From Data Self to Data Serf

Photo by L D M

"We belong to you, but the land belongs to us." - Russian Peasant Refrain

"But even when I am at a loss to define the essence of freedom

I know full well the meaning of captivity." - Adam Zagajewski, 'Freedom'

"You can't be what you were

So you better start being just what you are

You can't be what you were

Time is now and it's running out…" - Fugazi, 'Bad Mouth'

A few months ago, in preparation for my (then) upcoming 'Theorizing the Web' presentation, I tweeted the peasant refrain quoted above and made a comment to the effect that this is how, I believe, many feel when it comes to social media platforms and the data those platforms contain.  Essentially, the modern phrase would be 'We belong to your platform, but the data belongs to us."  Upon further reflection, however, I've started to think that this isn't the case at all.  Take, for example, the difference of opinion between American data platform owners and privacy advocates from the EU or the recent piece by Alexis Madrigal on the Atlantic titled The Perfect Technocracy: Facebook's Attempt to Create Good Government for 900 Million People.  Looking at the social media's sites process for regulating content on its data platform Madrigal states, "People know that Facebook controls a large slice of their digital lives, but they don't have a sense of digital citizenship."  I think the problem goes beyond the ideal of citizenship, even though Madrigal's statement hints at the larger issues.  Evidence grows that we are becoming serfs amidst the growing fields of cultivated data- and there has yet to emerge an articulation on the relation of our serfdom to data platforms like that embodied by the peasant's refrain.  Why is this so?

From my perspective, the heart of data serfdom centers on a question over what counts as certified, verifiable knowledge and the degree to which that knowledge is permitted to circulate or be modified.  Data platforms embrace stable declarations of the self through updates, likes, pins and other markers that, once declared, are difficult to change in content or meaning.  Even if one erases, or 'unlikes', something, the impression generated by the data platform of your data self remains tied with this now etherial 'like'.  Because we cannot change the content of these declarations easily, the validity of the message becomes even more key, even more vital.  This presents some unique challenges with regards to the relation of our data to ourselves.

Low-Mobility Value Facebook's 'Like' Button Produces
Photo by Eric Schwartzman

I would like to investigate the writings of Rob Horning (@marginalutility) and his focus on the 'data self', which explores how neoliberal capitalistic practices capture users in a sticky web of commodity production/exploitation.  His perspective and analysis helps clarify points I would like to make regarding how data platforms current utilization of low mobility knowledge constructs fits nicely with the evolution of documentary regimes into their new hybridized form.  Whereas pervasive documentation once allowed governments and others in power to shape the normative discourse (or at least put it into quantifiable terms), the new data platforms allow those in power to not only continue pervasive documentary practices but also avail themselves of that practices ills through integration of highly personal intermediation.  Social media is the embodiment of this intermediation.

In Advertising and the Health of the Internet, Horning addresses Atlantic writer Alexis Madrigal's piece detailing numerous companies that exist solely to track users data.  Picking apart Madrigal's premise behind the inherent value of this data, Horning states that the natural extension of Madrigal's logic would have one conclude that, "the health of the internet…depends on the degree to which we can turn thought into marketing through the process of circulating it."  For me, circulation is the key term in this statement.  Why?  Because I believe a key insight for understanding the 'data self' centers on the operation and interaction between high mobility and low mobility knowledge constructs, terms I've created to deal specifically with the circulation and adaptation of information.  In order to understand the terms of my critique, it would be best to take moment and define the terms and their execution as I intend.

Data platforms embrace, wholly, the configuration of low-mobility constructs, especially when it comes to articulating a data self that not only provides panoptic power but also algorithmic control in how we view our relation to others and ourselves.  Low-mobility constructs, generally, aren't modified through their transmission or reception.  I've often brought up the book as a prime example, but the same holds true for a Facebook update or Amazon purchase or Pintrest post.  These online statements are essentially one-offs that everyone can see- yet no one can change your thoughts, or purchase, or 'pin' through their own transmission or addendum.  All they can do is create a low-mobility response, adding shades of inflection to a conversation that is both asynchronous and bound in stasis bubbles.

This in itself would not be revelatory.  But if we look at Horning's line stated above through the lens of low mobility a key point does arise.  Circulation of thought in low-mobility form is entirely dependent on validation.  Because low-mobility constructs are highly resistant to being changed through transmission, the very act of circulating these constructs hinges on validation by the transmitter and, to some degree, the recipient as well.  High-mobility knowledge constructs, in comparison, can enjoy the added value validation brings, yet their impetus for transmission rests solely on the inherent capacity to be changed by both the transmitter and recipient through circulation.  Its very mutability is what ensures its survival and circulatory value.  In the past, I've used rumors as a prime example of high-mobility artifacts and specifically examined how Russian peasants often successfully used rumors to obfuscate demands made by Imperial authorities exemplified in low-mobility edicts or laws.  (See, for example, my Theorizing the Web presentation paper discussing this phenomenon in more detail)

Photo by Gabriel Rodriguez

Data platforms and the 'data selves' they produce, in order to generate some sort of commercial value, embrace low-mobility methods of knowledge production because the incessant need for validation as a precondition of circulation not only makes our various crops of data stable, (hence Target can accurately predict pregnancy-changing consumer behavior before even you are aware of it) but it also traps how we view ourselves in purely low-mobility, unchanging terms.  The only change allowed is that validated by the platforms, whose certification of knowledge creates a self-fulfilling and continuous loop of data.  This, in turn, creates a new view of the self whereby the past is illusionary and the future is now.  Meanwhile, the present languishes amidst declarations based both in the past (I 'liked' this post, I 'pinned' this item) and situated in the future projection of the self (think saving articles for 'Instapaper').  It should also be noted that this view of the self, largely predicated through digital terms, impacts the operation of augmented reality the self inhabits.  (An effect Nathan Jurgenson calls the 'Facebook Eye')   This is the kernel of data platform enserfment so many find themselves in today.

The 'landed' lords of the platforms, and the various petty 'landless' lords they sell our 'cultivated data' to, depend on this stable projection of the self trapped forever in the present.  If we could change our thoughts and our projections on the fly, carefully arranged cultivation processes would be tossed into a state of near-anarchy.  The asynchronous effects demarcating our lived self from the data self would grow to such proportions that any attempt to place a commodity effect on our production would yield false, shadow selves and thus become worthless to data platforms and marketers alike.  Moving targets are much more difficult to hit, especially when your gun is fixed in place.

Photo by Michael Mandiberg

If we look at the history of information through the lens of mobility, a progressive shift from the predominance of high mobility constructs, embodied by oral conceptions and utilizations, to that of low mobility constructs, introduced first by manuscript culture but later reinforced by print culture, can be detected.  Our current digital platforms of data only reinforce this trend, as I have tried to explain above, binding our actions increasingly in terms that are indicative of low mobility expressions and shunning forms that could allow the possibility of high mobility transmogrification.  In doing so, the new data platforms managed to solve an age old problem that plagued panoptic potential of documentary regimes.  By channeling the documentary process through a highly mobile (but not high mobility) process of algorithmic control, platforms can enjoy the benefits of both documentation and control with only minimal disruptive potential.  Increasingly the self becomes merged with the projected data self and the asynchronous friction that this process would typically engender becomes smoothed over due to the ease by which the data self can be fed, nourished and anesthetized.  Numb to the pain, we no longer recognize that our data is not our own.  No need arises for high mobility responses to low mobility control.  We become data serfs with few means to shape the terms of our bondage.

Russian peasants at least possessed access to the high mobility world of oral reinterpretations and rumors to challenge low mobility edicts or laws judged 'unfair' or 'unjust'.  The current generation of data serfs putter along without these tools or techniques, in effect declaring through their sustained cultivation of the data self the idea that both our data and ourselves belong to the platforms.  This is a dangerous position to be in, something Horning notes towards the end of Advertising and the Health of the Internet when he states,

"If our public lives are underwritten by our value to advertisers, our public selves will end up indexed to that value for everyone, and our private sense of ourselves will be to a degree dictated by the boundaries of the sensorium marketers can create around us with increasing specificity."

In Social Graph vs. Social Class, Horning follows his 'boundaries of the sensorium' concept to its natural extension by examining how Facebook's 'Social Graph' articulates both social organization norms enforced by social media and how those norms reinforce class-based analyses that are supposedly absent in the data platforms construction/execution.  Many people understand the 'networked' concept of social media platforms, yet fewer probably view their connections, in Horning's words, in terms of 'lines of competition as well as mere affiliation."  Asymmetrical power relations are inherent in data platforms just as they are in life.  Yet while many can accurately and articulately define those asymmetrical relationships in their personal, face to face interactions, they more easily gloss over the subtleties of such relations when using data platforms.  

"The social graph purports to passively record social arrangements that emerge organically and thus reflect some sort of true and undistorted account of how society works," states Horning, yet I would contest this point by saying that data accrued through cultivation of low-mobility sources cannot be organic- it is anything but organic.  Real communities, ones that establish possibilities for membership to make meaningful changes, exist on a mix of low and high mobility constructs.  They are chaotic, changing entities.  The lords of the data platforms, knowing the pains previous landed lords went through, sought circumvention of this community aspect through their algorithmically defined user interface.  Horning believes that social media makes identity construction fluid and able to be revised in real time- I believe it creates identity stasis as the constant accumulation of low-mobility statements continually weighs down the lived self with the constraints of the data self.

But how do we escape this serfdom?  Russian peasants were largely unsuccessful in their quest to achieve freedom, so why hold them up as paragons for a 'second' serfdom now occurring with the rise of data platforms?

The answer to both lies in finding ways to integrate high-mobility potentials into the data platforms on which our data resides.  While not a perfect example, Twitter has shown how this can be accomplished.  The retweet and hashtag features did not initially debut with the system- instead they evolved through user-centered invention and innovation, becoming an official part of the Twitter UI only in mid-2009.  These were not strictly high-mobility constructs shining through, rather they represented the exploration of potential space the Twitter platform allowed through the boundary-pushing behavior of users not engaged in a tightly defined algorithmic experience.  The inclusion of oral testimony as a primary source for use in Wikipedia articles, something I've written about, represents another potential mixing of high and low mobility sources, though not without some compromise.  Just as Russian peasants challenged edicts and textual dualist norms espoused by Tsarist authorities through use of 'augmented' oral constructs, so too do we need to find methods by which the low-mobility nature of data platforms have to contend with high-mobility critiques generated by an authentic community of users.  

It goes beyond voting on potential privacy rules on Facebook- this means putting the actual creation of privacy regulations in the hands of the users themselves.  Of course, this would mean threatening the stability of data reaped by data platform lords, not to mention an acknowledgement of a general consciousness on the value of the self to the process of data gathering.  If we fail to do so, we risk becoming serfs on a scale greater than that imagined by the most ardent Russian landowner.

My First Meme

Well, I've done it.  I've created my first 'meme'.  Inspired (well, more provoked) by Sherry Turkle's latest opinion essay in the New York Times titled, 'Flight From Conversation', I chose to highlight her argument through the classic 'Downfall' scene so often used for various internet commentary.  Enjoy!

(Note: I haven't written any posts recently, and that's due mainly to the incredibly busy schedule I've had as of late.  I have some ideas in the 'cooker' as we speak, so should hopefully have something more long-form up here soon. -- JA)

My 'Theorizing the Web' Presentation Paper

Since people have asked me about my presentation paper, I've gone ahead and uploaded it to Scribd.  This is a 'rough' version, in that it does not contain footnotes pointing towards the sources- a much more 'full' version will come later.  Feel free to download and leave comments below.

Charting the Waves of Augmentation

My Work on Play the Past

Chalk this announcement up to 'meant to say something earlier, but kind of kept putting it off.'  I've been very excited in the explosion of coverage over the past few years on gaming and thoughtful explorations of games under different disciplinary backgrounds, with one of the best examples being the phenomenal Play the Past website.  Here, authors from diverse professional backgrounds mull over topics such as 'The Presence of the Past in Fallout 3', 'What Comes Before the Platform: The Refuse of Videogames' and even 'Lies & Gamification'.

A few months ago, I was asked if there were any topics I though might be good for Play the Past and I immediately turned to the idea of player modifications, as they relate to one's sense of cultural heritage, in the very popular Cold War board game 'Twilight Struggle.'  Next, I tackled the question of 'Validating Model COIN's', which analyzed how game models of counterinsurgencies achieve validation through their combination of play-design mechanics and secondary source evaluation.  I then wrote on a topic, first written and debated here on Peasant Muse, about 'Interpreting History Through Games' which made the argument that board games could be analyzed as 'platforms' as defined by Ian Bogost and Nick Montford in their seminal work 'Racing the Beam'.

I've enjoyed writing for Play the Past.  I find it to be a great venue for exploring the intersections, boundaries and transdisciplinary approaches that are so vital for examining the world of gaming and cultural heritage.  That's why it makes me very happy to announce that I will be joining the fantastic group of authors at Play the Past as a regular contributor.  You can see my very first attributed post (the previous posts listed above were written under a guest writer account) discussing religious elements found in the sandbox game, Minecraft- 'Pilgrimage in (Minecraft) Middle Earth'.

I will still explore game topics here at Peasant Muse- I just now have another venue to engage a different sort of audience, with a cast of supporting authors that, frankly, make me realize how much I still have to learn and consider.  As I said above, this is a very exciting time for those of us interested in exploring games with more thoughtful consideration and I am personally thrilled to be a part of what I consider one of the shining exemplars of how this work can be done.

Going Beyond the Textual in History

Photo by Andrew Mason

Because of my interest in both history and games, I'm always on the look-out for good writing or new takes on how to bring elements of the gaming world into the framework of historical inquiry.  Increasingly, I'm finding my best sources of this kind of reading from my Twitter stream, as was the case when Shawn Graham (@electricarchaeo) pointed me towards an article in the recent edition of the Canadian Game Studies Association journal, 'Loading…', titled 'Beyond the 'Historical' Simulation: Using Theories of History to Inform Scholarly Game Design'.  Tackling what they call 'gamic action', the authors of the paper look to use elements of 'procedural rhetoric' (a concept introduced by Ian Bogost in his work 'Persuasive Games') combined with 'valid and scholarly means' of constructing the past (modeled on the monograph or print article) to produce 'reasonably justified truths' compatible with current methodologies in use by many historians.    

I mention the article not because I found it to be a progressive example of innovative historical thinking on games, but rather the opposite.  Instead of offering a means by which games can be productively and thoughtfully incorporated into historical study, the authors present a reactionary stance that seeks to bind 'gamic action' within the tightly defined epistemological boundaries incorporated into textual modes of history.  While they do offer valid insight when it comes to analyzing the roles and pretenses games follow today with regards to claiming historical validation, the repeated insistence on bringing into alignment the modes of 'objective' history and playable games not only overlooks the complimentary nature of both in creating reasonably justified truths about the past (to borrow a central concern of the authors), but also ignores the more fundamental issue centered on student prosumption (production + consumption) of historical knowledge.

Photo by Caro's Lines

While the first objection stems from concern the authors profess regarding games ability to present historical 'truth' as exemplified by the monograph, the second objection goes to the core of a fundamental debate now occurring in the discipline of History.  Examining both these objections yields the insight that History must go beyond the textual when forming links outside the circumscribed boundaries current epistemologies demand.  This is not abandonment, it is augmentation.  Rather than take a simplistic, reductionist view of the interplay between history and games, it might suit both the Historian and the Student better to uncover the more nuanced and complex interoperability both spheres of knowledge possess.

Let's begin with what the authors define as the 'gamic mode'.

"A gamic mode of history is the construction of scholarly historical arguments as scholarly games, creating a relationship to commercial games analogous to that of non-fiction to fiction in literature. This enables scholars to convey their research in ways that go beyond the limits of textual monographs, digitized historical sources, and digital simulations." [3]

via schaver.com

Thus the introduction of two parallel themes that run through the entire article- first, that scholarly historic arguments can be laid 1:1 over the gamic mode and, second, that this gives the gamic mode a source of truth to which other, commercial games cannot lay claim.  Simply put, the two worlds of textual history and games cannot coexist unless they are mirrors of each other, for to allow the possibility of transition between distinct spheres of knowledge would imply that truth is relative and the certified authority of the historian is no greater than the roll of a die or play of a card.  Students/players, in the 'commercial' and 'simulative' gamic modes, are empowered to both consume and produce knowledge on a level that is difficult for traditional Historians to acknowledge, much less accept.

This fear is clearly expressed by the authors when they claim that current methods of integrating games and history steer the debate away from expressing and elaborating "a disciplinary way of creating truth" and ultimately seek to transform the discipline by altering its epistemologies and limiting its empirical rigor.  Hence the following claim by the authors:

"This [steering of the debate] in turn limits scholarly debate by increasing ambiguity and opening reader response beyond the determination of whether or not the author has presented a reasonably justified truth." [5-6]

While that statement certainly seems ominous, the real source of angst is not the debate on epistemology, truth and empirical rigor conflating history and games supposedly brings about- it's the fact that the reader is apportioned a space of interpretation hereto held inviolate by certified authorities of the historical profession.  The gamic mode, as the authors see it currently being applied, allows the reader (note careful avoidance of the term 'player') to produce responses that go beyond consumption and simple affirmation or negation of the argument presented.  The reader, enabled to produce (or, more accurately, prosume) their own 'truths', can simply avoid the argument altogether.

Instead of dwelling on this point, let's put it in our back pocket as we survey other important parts of the authors argument.

One key concept that helps the authors align fidelity of the historical textual mode to the gamic mode is procedural rhetoric, a term first introduced and elaborated by Ian Bogost, defined in this context as:

"…the use of computational processes to persuasively and effectively convey an idea. What the author creates in procedural rhetoric is not the argument itself, but a series of general and specific rules through authoring code that a computer can then use to generate the argument (Bogost, 2007). This mirrors scholarly constructions of the past as history in two important ways. First is that the argument is not the past, but a representation of it created by authoring evidential and interpretive relationships that lead to conclusions. Second is that the scholarly historical argument itself consists of facts that are converted to evidence and arranged according to a set of rules for that particular argument via interpretation. The gamic mode of history is an application of procedural rhetoric that takes advantage of the processes inherent in scholarly evidential relationships to express these arguments as games.  While different in form the argument experienced by the player would contain the same series of procedural evidential relationships that work towards a verifiable conclusion with a reasonably justifiable truth attribute that they might have expected to find in a monograph of the same argument." [6]

By linking 'computational processes' to the way in which textual arguments are assembled, the authors hope to bring authoritative strength to their claim that the gamic mode and the textual historical argument can be one and the same.  However, this viewpoint hinges on the assumption that digital games possess an internal consistency of rules and play that allow the player to understand and predict cause/effect relationships in the gamic world.  This, unfortunately, is not the case.

Photo by Ken Goldberg

Digital games are, by their very nature, closed constructions whose operation the player cannot, on face, intrinsically know or predict without engaging first in a large degree of play.  Cause/effect relationships in digital games are determined by trial and error, inference, and the acknowledgment of a reward to indicate progress.  Yet the player can never be sure every corner of a digital game has been explored because many actions are obscured by the operation of code, which the player often cannot access and modify.  In fact, a digital game could be considered the exact opposite of a monograph, where the argument and sources used are clearly articulated.  But of course, this too simplifies the monographs presence, which is never really accounted for in the article.  For while citations are visible the documents behind those citations are not.  Alternatively, we know what the scholar selected but we don't know what they didn't select, or even the range of documents surveyed.  This is not a knock on professionalism, merely the idea that History in pursuit of objectivity nevertheless is guided, perhaps unknowingly, by subjective desires.

There is also the question of why the authors are so dedicated to digital gamic action, leaving the venerable tradition of manual board gaming to the relative wayside.  I find this trend currently common in many historic approaches towards utilizing games- but without straying too far from the question at hand, I would add that board games at least allow an alternative separate from the digital gamic mode to occur.  Board games are 'open' and the player does not have to continually press the boundaries of the world to figure out its meaning, a la digital.  Complete boundaries are defined and areas of ambiguity are not hidden but rather demarcated quite visibly in a manual design.  The player can dispense with the never-knowing and move straight to analysis and interpretation.  It should also be noted that the 'open' design of manual games allows players to assert their own interpretations of the events or model depicted, something the authors, as cited above, greatly disdain.

Player-Made Twilight Struggle Card
by Mark MacRae

To put it on even simpler terms- the main objection the authors have with current gamic modes is that they produce history for consumers, while the authors would much rather produce history for producers.  This approach, currently, is endemic in the historical discipline because historians, by and large, are used to being both the producers and consumers of their own product.  This is why the authors struggle so mightily to make equivalent a textual mode of history and a gamic mode of history, to make claims that this approach can, perhaps, go beyond the textual when, in fact, the very notion of equivalence negates this possibility.  Textual modes focus on producing knowledge through reading, while gamic modes focus on producing knowledge through play.  One allows simple consumption, the other complex prosumption.

Stalwart defense of the 'consumptive' textual mode can be further seen in the authors elaboration of Alan Munslow's three broad epistemological approaches to historical scholarship, those being construction, deconstruction and reconstruction.  Because deconstruction relies upon one's own experiences to form understanding of evidence and arguments presented, the authors reject such claims of historic inquiry because "to certain extent (deconstruction) means the past is unknowable and denies a corporate understanding of history."  Reconstruction is similarly disqualified as its primary exemplar, the computer simulation, asserts that collected facts of the past can be arranged and recreated to simulate the past as it actually happened- yet this involves subjective qualifiers and emphases that the authors stress "taxes the traditional historian's ideal of objective scholarship." 

This leaves construction as the preferred epistemological approach in producing an authoritative historical gamic mode.

"Constructionist history builds up knowledge of the past and expresses the past as history by both analyzing how and what individual pieces of evidence can do, and what conclusions about the actions of historical agents (be they individuals or corporate entities) can be established through evidence relationships. In this case, evidence itself is separate from a notion of historical fact, as the fact only becomes evidence based upon its relationship to the question at hand. The constructionist approach to history, while allowing almost any question to be asked, provides parameters around how the question can be answered." [7]

What gives construction the edge for the authors is that it neatly lays outs parameters establishing how 'almost any question…asked' can actually be answered.  Construction also goes hand-in-hand with the use of narrative to act as the communicator of historical truth.  Narrative as communicator of truth is so vitally important to the authors that they express fear in letting the student have input on interpretation outside of that directed by the Historian:

"Narrative is so closely tied to our understanding of action, and as history is the study of past action, that if the historian’s prose does not present a cohesive narrative to the reader, the reader then creates one. Therefore, the gamic mode of history needs to be able to utilize narrative in the same way." [8]

This is not 'meaningful' description.
 Photo by Phil Romans

Under this rationale, it becomes easy for the authors to question the role of any gamic mode in which the student/player becomes a nexus of interaction or interpretation of historical evidence.  Simulations and counter-factuals, the bread and butter of commercial games, are thus scorned by the authors because they allow the student/player to feel as though their actions create meaningful and accurate depictions of the past without utilizing "empirical, justified truths claims about the past."

The solution presented by the authors is Shadows of Utopia: Exploring the Thinking of Robert Owen, a digital game that lets players simulate "an argument about Robert Owen's thinking."  Placing questions of education and labor reform before the player expressed through puzzles and game-world exploration, Shadows of Utopia demonstrates the idealistic thinking of Robert Owen via player transformation of the game-world's 'lazy, foolish shadow-creatures who steal and rob' into real people who attain wealth and morals through factory work.  Mimicking the textual authenticator of citations, Shadows of Utopia provides in-game source documentation in a transparent manner, going so far as to link "sources and related interpretations to the game code, user interface, and aesthetic choices," although how this is accomplished is not specifically defined.

The authors conclude that efforts like Shadows of Utopia not only can "do all the things that the textual mode does" but also "add digital utilities that augment research in imaginative and useful ways." 

Now, to be clear and upfront, I think that Shadows of Utopia sounds like a fascinating attempt to bridge the epistemological gap between what we understand to be the practice of history with the act of play encountered in the gamic mode.  However, I'm not willing to burn all other existing and potential bridges from history to games as the authors of 'Beyond the Historical Simulation' have done.  For one thing, porting (to borrow a phrase from digital gaming) over the epistemological guidelines of textual monographs and journal articles to the gamic mode doesn't allow one to go beyond the textual mode- it merely extends that mode to gamic space without taking into account the unique epistemologies gamic space inherently possesses.  (The authors want to 'paper over' the gamic space, literally, with textual modes)  To make a simple point of comparison, a monograph does not seek reader input whereas a game, by its very nature, requires player input to be utilized.  When you read a journal article, you are passively absorbing knowledge.  When you play a game, you are actively absorbing knowledge.  The authors argument presented above seeks to appropriate player activity and channel it into passive knowledge absorption.

Instead of trying to simplify the conflation of history and games, perhaps it would be better to acknowledge their separate epistemological boundaries and formulate a way to negotiate knowledge handoffs between the two spheres.  Katie King in her recent work Networked Reenactments, points the way to just such a negotiation in her analysis of flexible knowledges and pastpresents displayed in commercially produced television reenactments.  Here we often see the interplay of several fields of knowledge, represented either by talking heads or physical actualization of knowledge epistemologies through representative involvement (i.e. having a Historian and Architect work together in recreating a Roman bath), set against the backdrop of a historical narrative that links the past to the present.  When you add in the viewer angle to reenactments, the demarcation of specialized knowledge becomes less and less viable as the flexible knowledges required to fulfill the reenactment demand greater mobility than tight epistemologies might otherwise demand.  Thus King notes,

"…it is especially important that reenactments are not a way to keep pasts and presents apart-or a way to keep authorities and alternative knowledges, metaphors and referents, materialities and abstractions, forms of academic expertise and cultural entertainment, or affects and cognitions separated, managed, or delimited by membership. Flexible knowledges, transdisciplinarities, new media, all plunge us into uncertainties, risk, collusion, and collaboration; all conditions that-as with responsibilities to multiple audiences from painfully limited authorships-we do not control and in which we are elemental "bits" in emergent reorganizations of knowledge economies and among altering evaluations." (17)

The uncertainty noted by King is what the authors of 'Beyond the Historical Simulation' wish to avoid, as it potentially invalidates the Historians authoritative position in knowledge making.  But, again, King notes this aversion in traditionally defined disciplines presented with flexible knowledges when she states, "intensively experienced affect is what signals movement across knowledge worlds, as well as what indicates cognitive and affiliative shifts across what counts as authoritative."

I have tried in previous posts (one on course design, another on modeling counterinsurgency) to indicate a way towards understanding how to use games in historical study that seeks to broaden the analytical framework beyond that of the textual, even though the textual is essential to analyzing games.  If games offer us nothing but interpretations of history, something I don't fully believe, there is still valuable cultural significance worthy of study in the act of play that brings about said interpretations.  How are cultural narratives sustained or modified in play?  Why do some historical 'truths' stick to the public consciousness, while others are perennially ignored?  How are certain conflicts or simulations modeled, and why would designers build games to emulate these processes?  How does a players analysis of the game, its play-design mechanics, impact how they approach replays or creating modifications?  (In particular I'm thinking of 'pacifist' play in Skyrim and even the creation of a '72 Summit Series card for Twilight Struggle)  

King offers a potent conceptual metaphor for analysis of games with her use of pastpresent- a player literally links the past to the present with their act of play- in addition to providing a framework though which diverse disciplines can interact on the subject of games through her analysis of flexible knowledges.  This is a good start- but as the 'Beyond the Historical Simulation' article makes clear, there are still many who are skeptical of such ventures.

Photo by Mollenborg

Games are highly complex cultural artifacts that situate themselves on the borders of several disciplines, embodying fully the sort of reenactment potential for flexible knowledge discussed by King above.  While it might be nice to render the gamic mode under the auspices of textual epistemologies, these can only take us so far in our understanding on the interactions of both and perhaps limit us, arbitrarily, from expanding and utilizing historic knowledge in emerging 'posthumanities' approaches the study of games demand.  We can surely do better than advocate for the gamic mode to become backwards compatible with textual monographs.