Do you like to play? If you do, why? If you don’t, why not? Oh! I see. You want me to define play. In this, I’m not the philosopher or lexicographer you might be seeking. There are articles and books on the subject, some of them richly insightful, some richly confusing. I can ramble on, however, possibly defining play to your semi-satisfaction. But even if I fail to define to your satisfaction, I will have by the end played a game, and you will have played one, too.
The late philosopher John Walsh, long-time professor and a colleague of mine at California University of Pennsylvania, * centered his philosophy of play on the work of Martin Heidegger. For Jack, as he was known, understanding the nature of play was an avenue into understanding the nature of humanity. He took, as Heidegger took, an existential approach to the subject and taught his students in a kind and mild manner. Jack’s emphasis on play, or leisure, was not a travel agent’s take on how to vacation. Rather, he focused on how play was an integral part of being human, or rather, how play makes us human. Maybe for you Heideggerians out there, I should say that play is an integral part of Dasein, roughly “being there,” or rather “becoming in the present.” I’m guessing, but I believe that Jack Walsh would say that in losing ourselves in play, in the game, we are totally involved in our present, and in our present we are always “becoming.”
That’s philosophy for you. It leaves you wondering whether or not you reached a definitive understanding. It makes you wonder why one should philosophize. It makes you think that the reason for 2,500 years of philosophical ambivalence, confusion, theses and anti-theses, and neologisms is that philosophers play intellectual games. Of course, we become absorbed by play, but what’s new in introducing Dasein into the conversation? Unless one wades through Heidegger’s Being and Time—not an easy task, I can tell you—the existential framework that my colleague used in his approach to play and leisure is esoteric. To explain play less metaphysically and more physiologically, should we switch from philosophy to neurology and biochemistry? Is philosophy the art of explaining mind whereas psychology coupled with biochemistry the science of explaining brain? In taking a psychological approach to play, am I not taking sides in that old dualism? Am I not favoring body over soul?
Have I become an agent of materialism?
Play is in itself not an exclusively human phenomenon. You have probably observed playful young animals, their antics contrasting with more laid back adults. The phenomenon is prevalent in many mammal species and is part of the socialization process; play is behavior. You have also noted that maturation appears on the whole to quash playfulness or alter it significantly. As some zoologists note, often the play of young predators prepares them for the realities of surviving by hunting. For young prey animals, romping might prepare animals in the absence of threats for escape during threats to come.
In humans the energetic physical play of youth often turns into bowling, riding a golf cart, or playing cards. For football fans, what they once might have done physically turns into the emotional and mental play of cheering, betting, competing in fantasy football, and, importantly, firing those mirror neurons that tie us to what we observe. We can play vicariously. For most of us, play doesn’t go away; it simply morphs. Or should I say that we, the players, morph? We might consider challenges as play, even risky challenges, such as rock climbing, running great distances, and gambling. I would be remiss, of course, not to mention playing electronic games, including versions that pit humans against AI. And play opens us up to invention, to new kinds of play in seemingly endless varieties: Curling, pickle ball, foot volley, and the various X games stand as evidence that play is a creative process.
Some might complain that play distracts people from serious concerns and that it is a time-waster, a nonproductive activity. In some social settings, people perceive it as a lower form of human endeavor that sidetracks us from nobler pursuits like those framed by the title “humanities”—including philosophy—or by the term accomplishments. As a distractor, play is seemingly non-utilitarian though, ironically, those financially invested in sports teams know the economic utility of their investment. And among professional athletes play becomes a matter of mastered techniques that enable the talented to excel among other talented people. For psychotherapists, play appears to be a useful curative endeavor for the neurotic, the overworked, and the work-obsessed. “You need a break. You need to lighten up. Let’s go play such-n-such.” Play has many purposes, and among them are two goals that we don’t readily associate with play: Destruction and Death.
Games centered on destruction and death have become entertainment. The presumed bloodlust of Roman fans in the Coliseum watching people hack one another to death has been transferred into a video game like Dark Souls III. Play centered on destruction and death occurs also in literature and film. War Games, Shooters, War Book, Lord of the Flies, and currently, Squid Game are examples. Squid Game? Hunger Games? What, I wonder, would Jack Walsh say? As one educated in the humanities, he probably knew of The Most Dangerous Game, that popular 1924 short story published three years before he was born. That story by Richard Connell found expression in movies, a TV series, and multiple imitations during his Jack’s life. And that 2021 Squid Game fad? Now preteens and teens are playing versions of the game, and some people are hurting the losers. Why didn’t I think to ask him about such “play” and its role in defining humanity? In playing a “game” in which people destroy and kill, are we demonstrating our existential state of becoming? Of being human? Isn’t this what Dasein is all about? Did Heidegger, who associated himself with the Nazi Party, know that Hitler and his henchmen “played” war games in preparation for actual war? Should we overlook Heidegger’s Nazi association and think of him instead as an avid and accomplished skier? Skiing is a form of play, isn’t it? Is there a better example of “being there,” of “being in the world,” of Dasein, than the intensity of skiing down a mountain? Focus on the present, or fall off a cliff.
As a veteran, Jack no doubt knew that generals conduct war games. On tables with toy soldiers or weapons or on computers to simulate fields of battle, military leaders turn play into preparation for death on scales that dwarf the fifty million plus killed during World War II. Recently, I stumbled on a report sponsored by the Office of the Secretary of the Army called Striking the Balance: US Army Force Posture in Europe, 2028. ** The cover of the report is a photo of a map with toy soldiers. Since World War II, the United States has maintained a military presence in Europe, initially as a shield against hegemony by the former Soviet Union and continuously as one against a perceived threat from Russia. To maintain the “defensive” posture, the Army constantly runs scenarios of hypothetical battles (and full scale wars). From the perspective of swivel chairs behind desks and conference tables and in conjunction with AI, the military plays multiple war games. In the United States the Pentagon frequently reanalyzes both its strategies and, to give the military some intellectual credit, the socio-political reasons to strategize. It’s chess on steroids. The Striking the Balance report enumerates such reasons for strategizing. Here is one of the report’s conclusions:
“The risk involved in any US-Russian conflict is so great that Russia would never conduct a sudden surprise attack based solely on the conditions of US/NATO military vulnerability. Therefore, any conflict would be preceded by a crisis period of days, weeks, or months of heightened political tensions that would buy some time for focused intelligence gathering and military preparations.”
The statement isn’t in itself a game, but it suggests that playing hypothetical war games is an essential part of military life and that at some time before 2028, the United States military might have to apply strategies it played out numerous times.
Let’s say you have a favorite team. I follow the Pittsburgh Steelers, for example. The team’s successes over the past half century have come with numerous failures. Six Super Bowls out of eight played during a period of more than fifty such championship games isn’t a high success rate, but it is a better championship record than that of all but one team, the Patriots, which also has six. Prior to every football game, a team plays out scenarios of the game, seeing where the other team’s weaknesses lie. Teams watch films of games that an upcoming opponent lost to find those weaknesses.
Now imagine countries that have had many wars. Russia is such a country. From a typical American’s perspective, Russia poses an Either/Or threat. Either NATO contains it to prevent a reconstitution of the Soviet Union, or Russia re-establishes something akin to the Soviet Union. But see the situation from the Russian perspective, also an Either/Or, and like the American perspective is centered on Winning vs. Losing. As the Striking the Balance authors point out, the Slavic peoples who became the Russians have had, like the Steelers and the Patriots, many losses. The Vikings, the French, and the Germans all invaded Russia. The Japanese defeated the Russian navy. And there have been numerous other wars and conflicts that Russians perceived as existential threats and encroachments on their homeland. Think of the millions of Russians killed in WW II; and think of largely Russian populations in “peripheral countries” the diaspora in Latvia and eastern Ukraine. So, as NATO and US Army generals play war games to defeat a Russian hegemony, so the Russians play them, and probably not just against the West, but also against any perceived threat from the East as China becomes more militarily capable. Now you might say, “But strategizing isn’t playing. It’s an essential path to victory.” No, it’s a game. It’s a form of play. But the score isn’t kept in touchdowns, points, or runs. Victories and defeats are summed in deaths and acreage conquered.
It is unlikely that any neuroscientist would be able to put electrodes on the heads of generals as they play their actual war games, but I would like to see whether or not the neurons active during such strategizing are the same that spark in my brain as I actively participate in a game or watch one. It is unlikely also that anyone will be able to sample the generals’ neurotransmitters to assess levels of dopamine and serotonin in an attempt to quantify pleasure that war games afford military leaders.
During the final stages of the Gulf War, General Schwarzkopf gave a news conference that is now available on the Web. In the conference, the general reveals the war strategy that the French, American, Saudi, and other coalition members used to defeat the Iraqis. In watching the exchange between reporters and the general, I had the feeling that Schwarzkopf experienced a flush of those pleasure neurotransmitters that come with a game well played and a victory assured. Was the general experiencing what we all experience in play? His war game played out just as he had planned. He achieved victory. The game was in the final minutes with time rapidly running out on the Iraqis who had no chance of victory. Certainly, Schwarzkopf’s brain was flushed with those neurotransmitters of pleasure.
So, are psychological, neurological, and biochemical explanations of play “better than” philosophical explanations? And is “pleasure” the end? Here’s a statement I find germane to the discussion. In Psychology Today online, Dr. Marianna Pogosyan writes, “Pleasure is not so much about dopamine and the opioids themselves but about how the brain communicates between various regions. The neurotransmitters change the wiring of the regions and how they engage with each other.” *** Does that mean play is a state of brain rather than a state of mind? Is it a purely physical “being in the world”?
I wish Jack were still alive. I would love to ask him.
*As of this writing, the university is to become Pennsylvania Western University or PennWest University under a consolidation of three Pennsylvania state universities.
**Clark. J. P., C. Anthony Pfaff, et al. June, 2020. US Army War College. https://publications.armywarcollege.edu/pubs/3729.pdf
*** https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/between-cultures/202107/the-new-neuroscience-pleasure
The late philosopher John Walsh, long-time professor and a colleague of mine at California University of Pennsylvania, * centered his philosophy of play on the work of Martin Heidegger. For Jack, as he was known, understanding the nature of play was an avenue into understanding the nature of humanity. He took, as Heidegger took, an existential approach to the subject and taught his students in a kind and mild manner. Jack’s emphasis on play, or leisure, was not a travel agent’s take on how to vacation. Rather, he focused on how play was an integral part of being human, or rather, how play makes us human. Maybe for you Heideggerians out there, I should say that play is an integral part of Dasein, roughly “being there,” or rather “becoming in the present.” I’m guessing, but I believe that Jack Walsh would say that in losing ourselves in play, in the game, we are totally involved in our present, and in our present we are always “becoming.”
That’s philosophy for you. It leaves you wondering whether or not you reached a definitive understanding. It makes you wonder why one should philosophize. It makes you think that the reason for 2,500 years of philosophical ambivalence, confusion, theses and anti-theses, and neologisms is that philosophers play intellectual games. Of course, we become absorbed by play, but what’s new in introducing Dasein into the conversation? Unless one wades through Heidegger’s Being and Time—not an easy task, I can tell you—the existential framework that my colleague used in his approach to play and leisure is esoteric. To explain play less metaphysically and more physiologically, should we switch from philosophy to neurology and biochemistry? Is philosophy the art of explaining mind whereas psychology coupled with biochemistry the science of explaining brain? In taking a psychological approach to play, am I not taking sides in that old dualism? Am I not favoring body over soul?
Have I become an agent of materialism?
Play is in itself not an exclusively human phenomenon. You have probably observed playful young animals, their antics contrasting with more laid back adults. The phenomenon is prevalent in many mammal species and is part of the socialization process; play is behavior. You have also noted that maturation appears on the whole to quash playfulness or alter it significantly. As some zoologists note, often the play of young predators prepares them for the realities of surviving by hunting. For young prey animals, romping might prepare animals in the absence of threats for escape during threats to come.
In humans the energetic physical play of youth often turns into bowling, riding a golf cart, or playing cards. For football fans, what they once might have done physically turns into the emotional and mental play of cheering, betting, competing in fantasy football, and, importantly, firing those mirror neurons that tie us to what we observe. We can play vicariously. For most of us, play doesn’t go away; it simply morphs. Or should I say that we, the players, morph? We might consider challenges as play, even risky challenges, such as rock climbing, running great distances, and gambling. I would be remiss, of course, not to mention playing electronic games, including versions that pit humans against AI. And play opens us up to invention, to new kinds of play in seemingly endless varieties: Curling, pickle ball, foot volley, and the various X games stand as evidence that play is a creative process.
Some might complain that play distracts people from serious concerns and that it is a time-waster, a nonproductive activity. In some social settings, people perceive it as a lower form of human endeavor that sidetracks us from nobler pursuits like those framed by the title “humanities”—including philosophy—or by the term accomplishments. As a distractor, play is seemingly non-utilitarian though, ironically, those financially invested in sports teams know the economic utility of their investment. And among professional athletes play becomes a matter of mastered techniques that enable the talented to excel among other talented people. For psychotherapists, play appears to be a useful curative endeavor for the neurotic, the overworked, and the work-obsessed. “You need a break. You need to lighten up. Let’s go play such-n-such.” Play has many purposes, and among them are two goals that we don’t readily associate with play: Destruction and Death.
Games centered on destruction and death have become entertainment. The presumed bloodlust of Roman fans in the Coliseum watching people hack one another to death has been transferred into a video game like Dark Souls III. Play centered on destruction and death occurs also in literature and film. War Games, Shooters, War Book, Lord of the Flies, and currently, Squid Game are examples. Squid Game? Hunger Games? What, I wonder, would Jack Walsh say? As one educated in the humanities, he probably knew of The Most Dangerous Game, that popular 1924 short story published three years before he was born. That story by Richard Connell found expression in movies, a TV series, and multiple imitations during his Jack’s life. And that 2021 Squid Game fad? Now preteens and teens are playing versions of the game, and some people are hurting the losers. Why didn’t I think to ask him about such “play” and its role in defining humanity? In playing a “game” in which people destroy and kill, are we demonstrating our existential state of becoming? Of being human? Isn’t this what Dasein is all about? Did Heidegger, who associated himself with the Nazi Party, know that Hitler and his henchmen “played” war games in preparation for actual war? Should we overlook Heidegger’s Nazi association and think of him instead as an avid and accomplished skier? Skiing is a form of play, isn’t it? Is there a better example of “being there,” of “being in the world,” of Dasein, than the intensity of skiing down a mountain? Focus on the present, or fall off a cliff.
As a veteran, Jack no doubt knew that generals conduct war games. On tables with toy soldiers or weapons or on computers to simulate fields of battle, military leaders turn play into preparation for death on scales that dwarf the fifty million plus killed during World War II. Recently, I stumbled on a report sponsored by the Office of the Secretary of the Army called Striking the Balance: US Army Force Posture in Europe, 2028. ** The cover of the report is a photo of a map with toy soldiers. Since World War II, the United States has maintained a military presence in Europe, initially as a shield against hegemony by the former Soviet Union and continuously as one against a perceived threat from Russia. To maintain the “defensive” posture, the Army constantly runs scenarios of hypothetical battles (and full scale wars). From the perspective of swivel chairs behind desks and conference tables and in conjunction with AI, the military plays multiple war games. In the United States the Pentagon frequently reanalyzes both its strategies and, to give the military some intellectual credit, the socio-political reasons to strategize. It’s chess on steroids. The Striking the Balance report enumerates such reasons for strategizing. Here is one of the report’s conclusions:
“The risk involved in any US-Russian conflict is so great that Russia would never conduct a sudden surprise attack based solely on the conditions of US/NATO military vulnerability. Therefore, any conflict would be preceded by a crisis period of days, weeks, or months of heightened political tensions that would buy some time for focused intelligence gathering and military preparations.”
The statement isn’t in itself a game, but it suggests that playing hypothetical war games is an essential part of military life and that at some time before 2028, the United States military might have to apply strategies it played out numerous times.
Let’s say you have a favorite team. I follow the Pittsburgh Steelers, for example. The team’s successes over the past half century have come with numerous failures. Six Super Bowls out of eight played during a period of more than fifty such championship games isn’t a high success rate, but it is a better championship record than that of all but one team, the Patriots, which also has six. Prior to every football game, a team plays out scenarios of the game, seeing where the other team’s weaknesses lie. Teams watch films of games that an upcoming opponent lost to find those weaknesses.
Now imagine countries that have had many wars. Russia is such a country. From a typical American’s perspective, Russia poses an Either/Or threat. Either NATO contains it to prevent a reconstitution of the Soviet Union, or Russia re-establishes something akin to the Soviet Union. But see the situation from the Russian perspective, also an Either/Or, and like the American perspective is centered on Winning vs. Losing. As the Striking the Balance authors point out, the Slavic peoples who became the Russians have had, like the Steelers and the Patriots, many losses. The Vikings, the French, and the Germans all invaded Russia. The Japanese defeated the Russian navy. And there have been numerous other wars and conflicts that Russians perceived as existential threats and encroachments on their homeland. Think of the millions of Russians killed in WW II; and think of largely Russian populations in “peripheral countries” the diaspora in Latvia and eastern Ukraine. So, as NATO and US Army generals play war games to defeat a Russian hegemony, so the Russians play them, and probably not just against the West, but also against any perceived threat from the East as China becomes more militarily capable. Now you might say, “But strategizing isn’t playing. It’s an essential path to victory.” No, it’s a game. It’s a form of play. But the score isn’t kept in touchdowns, points, or runs. Victories and defeats are summed in deaths and acreage conquered.
It is unlikely that any neuroscientist would be able to put electrodes on the heads of generals as they play their actual war games, but I would like to see whether or not the neurons active during such strategizing are the same that spark in my brain as I actively participate in a game or watch one. It is unlikely also that anyone will be able to sample the generals’ neurotransmitters to assess levels of dopamine and serotonin in an attempt to quantify pleasure that war games afford military leaders.
During the final stages of the Gulf War, General Schwarzkopf gave a news conference that is now available on the Web. In the conference, the general reveals the war strategy that the French, American, Saudi, and other coalition members used to defeat the Iraqis. In watching the exchange between reporters and the general, I had the feeling that Schwarzkopf experienced a flush of those pleasure neurotransmitters that come with a game well played and a victory assured. Was the general experiencing what we all experience in play? His war game played out just as he had planned. He achieved victory. The game was in the final minutes with time rapidly running out on the Iraqis who had no chance of victory. Certainly, Schwarzkopf’s brain was flushed with those neurotransmitters of pleasure.
So, are psychological, neurological, and biochemical explanations of play “better than” philosophical explanations? And is “pleasure” the end? Here’s a statement I find germane to the discussion. In Psychology Today online, Dr. Marianna Pogosyan writes, “Pleasure is not so much about dopamine and the opioids themselves but about how the brain communicates between various regions. The neurotransmitters change the wiring of the regions and how they engage with each other.” *** Does that mean play is a state of brain rather than a state of mind? Is it a purely physical “being in the world”?
I wish Jack were still alive. I would love to ask him.
*As of this writing, the university is to become Pennsylvania Western University or PennWest University under a consolidation of three Pennsylvania state universities.
**Clark. J. P., C. Anthony Pfaff, et al. June, 2020. US Army War College. https://publications.armywarcollege.edu/pubs/3729.pdf
*** https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/between-cultures/202107/the-new-neuroscience-pleasure
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