"Wars Not Make One Great" (But They Also Don't Make the Jedi Slavedrivers)

In my last I mentioned that I had some problems with the way Karen Traviss, in her new novel Revelation, characterized the Jedi and their history. The last 40+ pages or so of the book include conversations amongst her Mandolorian characters (including Fett) and Jaina--and, honestly, there is a lot of interesting stuff here worthy of discussion. However, I will limit my comments to two major claims that Traviss seems to make (note: obviously it isn't Traviss herself but her characters that make these claims--that said, similar views are recurrent throughout her books and she seems to in general sympathize with the Mandolorian viewpoint).

1. The Jedi enslaved the Clone Troopers and exploited them during the Clone Wars.

2. All of the Jedi--most specifically Luke Skywalker--lack the moral courage to kill Darth Caedus.

Anyways, on to the first point. I can't seem to find the passage I'm looking for, but when discussing why he left the Jedi Order, Gotab basically says that he couldn't stay after the way the Jedi treated the clones (as exploited slaves) during the Clone Wars. He says that he became close friends, and cared deeply about, his troopers, and was disgusted by the way in which the troopers were treated.
Now, as an anarchist, I'm not sure how much we ought to defend the Jedi for fighting in the Clone Wars. In some respects the conflict seems analogous to the Civil War, and a better plan would have been allowing some substates to secede while using nongovernmental means to fight against the corruption and excesses of the Separatist movement. All of this just underlies a bigger problem with the Jedi Order--namely, that they spend too much time being diplomats for the Republic, enforcing their laws, and not enough time rectifying social evils (e.g., working to end slavery on the Outer Rim in The Phantom Menace).
But the claim that the Jedi were somehow "enslaving" the Clone Troopers--or were the ones somehow most responsible for their mistreatment--seems ridiculous. First of all, contrary to the suggestion that the Jedi and Sith are responsible for all wars, the Clone Wars was a war engineered by the Sith in which the Jedi just happened to fight (it is not as if, say, the jedi started a war in an attempt to exterminate the Sith, a la the Jedis' attempts to elimate the 'Brotherhood of Darkness'). And it is not as if it was the Jedi who were primarily responsible for having Clone Troopers under their command. While the Clone Army was created at the behest of Sifo-Dyas, it was a) without the knowledge or approval of the Jedi Council, and b) quickly integrated into the plans of Dooku and Sidious. It was the Sith who manipulated events such that the Republic would eventually use the Clone Army (note also that the Jedi didn't bring the clones to Geonosis until the Army had been "approved" by the Senate). In the end, it was not the Jedi who jumped to wage war against the Sith with a slave army--it is the Republic more generally who fought back against the Separatists, and the Jedi who--with much reservation--agreed with Palpatine's suggestion to serve as generals of an army that would have been used by the republic regardless of what stance the Jedi took on the war. And a cursory glance through the EU novels in the Clone Wars era suggests that Gotab isn't the only Jedi who befriended his or her clone troopers.


And what of the Jedi's "lack of moral courage"? I feel like there are two related questions here: first, would it be morally acceptable for the Jedi to kill Caedus? And second, are the Jedi morally obligated to kill Caedus? If we are to believe that, say, Luke lacks a certain moral courage, then we would almost certainly have to agree with the latter point--that since he has shown himself to be more powerful than Jacen, and since Jacen is so dangerous, that he is under moral obligation to kill him and end the threat. But this seems implausible to me. First off, if we know nothing else, we know that Caedus is reponsible for the death of the people he kills, not Luke. Just because Luke could have killed Caedus before (he had an easy chance in Inferno, and possinly one in Revelation), that doesn't make him responsible for any subsequent deaths that Jacen causes. Second, making it a moral obligation for someone with the means to kill Caedus, to do so, would require Caedus to assume a much exaggerated role in the galactic conflict. It is not as if, before Jacen turned dark, the galaxy was at peace, and his actions alone started a galactic war. He may be the most extreme and most evil proponent of the war, but it hardly seems to me obvious that assassinating Caedus would either end the war or completely end the suffering that has been wrought. It would, I think, end the war's greatest excesses and violations of conventional warfare and human decency. And, in case, Luke has his reasons for not killing Jacen himself, or allowing Ben to kill him, and his reasons for doing something should never begin nor end with galactic considerations since the heart of ethics is the question of how *I* (or, in Luke Skywalker's case, how *Luke*) should live my life. I think Gotab has the burden of proof in showing this supposed 'duty' to kill Jacen (rather than redeem him, neutralize him, etc. etc.) before he can claim that Luke Skywalker lacks "moral courage."

Thoughts on the latest SW novel

So, I just finished up the latest Star Wars EU novel--Karen Traviss' Revelation in the Legacy of the Force story arc--and I thought I would share my thoughts. Since my comments are filled with *SPOILERS*, I will post them in the comments section.

Star Wars: Episode 2.5?

Good news for the Star Wars fanatics amongs us! As I'm sure many of you already know, an animated Star Wars film is coming to theaters this summer, just before the animated series begins this fall. In general, I will read, watch, or play anything dealing with Star Wars, so this is big news indeed. But, I do have a few minor gripes, the first being that both the upcoming movie as well as the series will be set in the Clone Wars era. It's not that I dislike the Clone Wars era--it's just that this era seems sufficiently covered for my tastes (there is a Dark Horse comic book series,and a Del Rey book series, and of course the Cartoon Network animated series, not to mention the "spinoff" stuff like the Republic Comnnando series). I would vastly prefer something set set either in the KOTOR era, or the post-RotJ era (preferably something during the Thrawn trilogy, or during the NJO). My other little gripe is that the animation looks a little goofy--frankly, I would have preferred computer animation more realistic (more like Advent Children).
But--minor gripes aside--I must say that I am extremely excited.

Welcome to the Circus of Values!

Good article about Bioshock and Objectivist philosophy over at Kotaku. As I'm not an Objectivist, I don't really have much to say about the game's semi-critical attitude towards the philosophy, except insofar as they are more general criticisms of free markets. And even here, it is hard to read anything in Bioshock as a truly substantial criticism of free markets or libertarianism as Andrew Ryan, Rapture's leader and the game's main anatagonist, comes off as a tyrnat and is hardly a libertarian model (likewise I would be be hesitant to call Rapture a "libertarian" society).

Video Games as Art

On July 21st, 2007 Roger Ebert wrote an article in which he declared, in no uncertain terms, that videogames should not be considered art. This is a far grander claim than one might at first realize. Ebert is not merely claiming that, at this very moment, there are no videogames that have attained the lofty status of “high art”; rather, he is claiming that no videogame could ever attain such a status. I think the former question—that of whether any videogames right now ought to be considered ‘art’—is a more open question that is worthy of serious discussion (for those curious, my answer would be a qualified ‘yes’). But I do not wish to tackle this thorny issue—rather, I would like to answer Ebert’s claims with regard to the latter issue, that videogames can never attain the status of high art.
Before addressing Ebert’s claims point-by point, there is a general point that ought to be made. There is a larger question of some importance here, a question that reaches far beyond the scope of this response (it is a question also not addressed by Ebert). This is the fundamental question: what is art? What characteristics makes something ‘art’ but something similar ‘not art’? This is a very important question, not only with regard to the general pursuit of knowledge, but also with regard to attempting to categorize any specific videogame as either art or not. But I don’t think the question is of too much importance in our current task. It is enough, I think, that we note these points about Ebert’s view of art: one, that Ebert clearly thinks that there are objective criteria for what he calls “high art”, and, two, that in general literature and film are capable of attaining this status. If we accept these premises for the sake of argument, then it follows that videogames, too, are capable of being high art.
Why can’t videogames be considered ‘art’? In answering this question, Ebert says:
How do I know this? How many games have I played? I know it by the definition of the vast majority of games. They tend to involve (1) point and shoot in many variations and plotlines, (2) treasure or scavenger hunts, as in "Myst," and (3) player control of the outcome. I don't think these attributes have much to do with art; they have more in common with sports.

This response is problematic for two reasons. First off, Ebert is already making a shift from making a claim about what any videogame could possibly be to a claim about what most videogames right now happen to be. Even if we assume that it is true that, right now, most videogames involve ‘scavenger hunts’, or are nothing but empty shooters, this doesn’t seem to show that videogames can’t be art any more than if it were the case that most literature right now consisted of trashy romance novels. It is also unclear why “point and shoot” mechanics or treasure hunts ought to be grounds to disqualify a game from being considered art. These mechanics, as well as combat mechanics, puzzles, etc. constitute the “active” elements of gaming that makes videogames interactive in a way that novels and films are not. But so what? These are just what makes videogames games, and make them distinct from, say, movies. Ebert has given us no reason to believe that such elements detract from being art, and why should they? If a videogame can tell a story of the same caliber as a novel or movie, why does it matter that you actively “play through” parts of the story (assuming that your play doesn’t change the story—Ebert’s points about ‘player control of the outcome’ may have some merit, and will be addressed later).
Let us move on to some of Ebert’s other points. Many of Ebert’s points in this article are written as a response to comments by Clive Barker, and here Ebert responds to Barkers’s claim that Ebert has a prejudiced view of videogames:

I might suggest that gamers have a prejudiced view of their medium, and particularly what it can be. Games may not be Shakespeare quite yet, but I have the prejudice that they never will be, and some gamers are prejudiced that they will.

Note that, again, Ebert equivocates between claims about what videogames can be and claims about what they are (or will be). He begins by stating that he thinks that gamers have a prejudiced (“misguided”) idea of what games can be, but then claims that he thinks games will not achieve the level of Shakespeare (implying that they of course could).
This aside, does Ebert have a prejudiced view of videogames? Honestly, I wouldn’t know, and I doubt there’s enough information in this article to make that claim. However, I do think that Ebert is pretty ignorant about videogames, and I don’t mean for this comment to be particularly mean or disparaging. After all, he implies that he has never played a videogame, and many of his points in this article belie the fact that he has a misguided view of what many videogames are like. So while I would not call Ebert’s view prejudiced, I would describe it as misinformed.

Let us look at perhaps the most important criticism of videogames-as-art that Ebert makes, one which connects with his earlier point about player-controlled outcome:

I believe art is created by an artist. If you change it, you become the artist. Would "Romeo and Juliet" have been better with a different ending? Rewritten versions of the play were actually produced with happy endings. "King Lear" was also subjected to rewrites; it's such a downer. At this point, taste comes into play. Which version of "Romeo and Juliet," Shakespeare's or Barker's, is superior, deeper, more moving, more "artistic"?

In general, I believe that his point is a good one. In other words, art, on a fundamental level, is created by the artist, and experiences in which a story is left open for someone else to decide (be it a videogame or even a “choose your own adventure” novel) aren’t “high art.” But I question how relevant this point is to videogames in general—while some videogames certainly fall into this category, not all of them do. And more importantly, videogame don’t necessarily involve player control of the outcome, at least in any significant manner. Allow me to expand on this point: it ought to be clear that some changes made by a person don’t affect a work of art’s status as art. If I am reading a Shakespeare play online, and change the text color from black to red, I clearly haven’t made any artistically significant changes. Similarly, if we allow for the moment that a videogame might be art, how I play through the game (how I solve puzzles, what characters I use in battles, whether or not I complete sidequests, etc.) will have no bearing on the game’s esthetic values. The only player-induced changes that could affect a game’s standing as art, I think, are those that are significant changes to the plot or theme of the game’s story. But this isn’t enough to disqualify videogames as a medium from being considered art, since a) many “artistic” games (by which I mean games that one might defeasibly consider art) don’t have any significant player control of outcome (Final Fantasy VII, Metal Gear Solid 2, and Shadow of the Colossus come to mind), and b) many games that have player control of outcome shouldn’t disqualify a game from being considered art. Let me explain what I mean by this. Let us take the game Bioshock as an example, and put aside questions of whether is game ought to be considered art. The point I want to make is that whether or not this game is considered art should have nothing to do with the fact that player choice determines the outcome. Why? Because very little about the story hinges on whether you play the ‘good’ or ‘evil’ route—it pretty much affects only the ending on the most literal interpretation. But what makes Bioshock such an interesting game—the eerie music, the deco-art style, and the twisting and turning story—depends little on how the game “wraps itself up”, so to speak. And Bioshock is not alone, I think, among videogames in which the portion of the outcome that a player can “decide” is really a rather insignificant portion (or which the path the player chooses is disparate enough that making a different choice amounts to playing two different games).

Thus, I do not think it is fair to claim that videogames cannot be art. This isn’t to say that none of Ebert’s points are valid; on the contrary, I think his general insights (and I say “general” partly because he doesn’t discuss this in great depth) on what elements are a necessary component of “high art.” And I would agree that a lot of great video games—perhaps even some of the best video games—could not be considered “high art.” But I vehemently disagree with Ebert’s claim that no video games could ever be considered high art. I think, even on Ebert’s own position, this claim is ultimately untenable. Video games come in all varieties, and many have the same artistic goals (and use similar means to attain these goals) as films and novels.

There are many--and I would count myself among them--who felt that the officials played too large a part in determining the outcome of Monday night's Ravens-Patriots game. Specifically, I am talking about the 4th and 5 defensive holding call. Now, this call is certainly more controversial than, say, the "holding" calls against Pitt from Saturday, not only because the call against the Ravens actually turned a victory into defeat, but also because it is far less clear that the defensive holding call actually was bad.
Peter King, for instance, defended the call, saying:

"Once Watson gets past the 8-yard line, it's illegal for Winborne to have anything but
incidental contact with Watson, but he clearly has an arm on him well past the 8, and all the way into the end zone. Maybe the call should have been holding, maybe the call should have been illegal contact, but it was a legitimate call, not a ticky-tack one."

There are two ways, I think, to interpret what King is saying here when he calls the flag "legitimate" and not "ticky-tack". The first would be that, as per the events he describes, Winborne's actions fit the description of defensive holding, and therefore the call was legitimate (in this scenario, a "ticky-tack" call would involve something, perhaps, that looked like a penalty but strictly speaking was not). The second interpretation is that, with regards to the context in which the penalty was called, the penalty was legitimate.
Before I rebut King's point, let me briefly state my own position, which will in turn clarify my problem with his argument. I subscribe to the 'prevailing' notion that the players, not the officials, should decide ballgames. Absent any concrete circumstances, this can sound vague and rhetorical; but in practice I think it generally means that officiating needs to be contextual. That is, the range of what fouls/penalties/etc. get called might need to change given the context of the game. And I know I am not alone in holding that when a game gets down to the final minute(s), or the last few plays/possessions in a big game, that officials ought to "let the players play", so to speak, and save penalty flags and whistles for only the truly egregious fouls.
So it is important to understand that I (and others who feel similarly) are not necessarily criticizing the defensive holding flag insofar as it was actually a penalty--the criticism isn't that no defensive holding took place (this might be our criticism of the holding calls in the WVU-Pitt game), but that the holding was not egregious enough to be called at such an important juncture of the game. Which is why it matters, to some extent, which interpretation we attribute to King. For on the first interpretation, his point misses the mark, since most are not denying that, technically, defensive holding took place; the call was bad because "ticky-tack" defensive holding shouldn't have been called on a play of this magnitude. If we (perhaps more charitably) attribute the latter meaning to his argument, he is certainly addressing the meat of our argument, but I am not sure that anything he says ultimately supports his point. For the situation he describes (Winborne riding Watson past the 5-yard mark where contact is allowed) doesn't seem to merit a flag within this context. It's fine if King doesn't think that the call was "ticky-tack" like many do--but everything he says merely shows that the flag was correct only in the most technical sense. Which is exactly what people mean when they call a penalty "ticky-tack".

Cardinal's-Eye View

There were some crazy football games this weekend, but it seemed to take place admist some very poor officiating. Pitt beat West Virginia despite what could only be described as the officials' best efforts to give WVU the game (two ridiculously bad holding calls on two of the game's biggest plays, and the second one followed by a pretty questionable no-call on defensive holding against WVU). But, yeah, that outcome was... unexpected.
In any case, I was very happy to see my Rams improve to 3-9 (though maybe I shouldn't be, since at this point we're only costing ourselves draft position...) and Ohio State luck into the championship game. The only thing that ruined it was the Browns losing. Now, granted, they didn't play very well, turned it over four times, so I guess in some sense they 'deserved' to lose--but this game is the type of game that good playoff teams find a way to win, and in a very real sense we should have won that game. And we would have won that game, if not for an extremely bad call at the end of the game. I mean, if I were to give someone a textbook example of what a "force-out" was, this would be the play I would show. If that catch by Kellen Winslow isn't a force-out, then what is? And what was that official even looking at? It looked like he wasn't even watching, like he was expecting the ball to be incomplete-- or perhaps he was in a hurry to get the game over with so he could go collect his giant bag of money from the Cardinals.