The Quiet Game

When we were watching Little Miss Sunshine in class today, I was launched back ten years into my elementary school classrooms. I know it's a pretty loose connection, but does anyone else remember the "quiet game?" For me, today was one of those moments where the smallest detail reminds me of the smallest memory: a nice little memory cue. 

I don't really remember if I was a fan or hater of the quiet game, but I always found it really interesting how it brought out different sides of each of my classmates. For many of us, we stayed silent, even when there was no reward attached — and especially when teams were assigned. We were competitive in our little desks and fueled by a desire not to win praise from the teacher but rather to seek internal validation that we won, that we prevailed over those who did not have as much restraint. At the same time, there was always someone who purposefully butted in and purposefully uttered a single word. When we were split into teams, this was often followed by groaning and frustration, whereas laughter often broke out when we were "competing" individually. The success of the quiet game (regardless if it was initiated by a teacher or initiated by classmates) paints a picture of kids motivated by two major factors: a sense of teamwork or pressure not to betray one's team, as well as an internal drive for success and validation, whether it came from within or from another person.

In Catch-22, Heller takes a different approach to explaining human motivations and in doing so criticizes the state of society. Put in the middle of deadly WWII, fighting folks are motivated by one different and one similar motivation: still a goal of validation (albeit largely external validation now), but a shift from comradery and altruism to self-preserving individualism that borders on selfish at times. Doc Daneeka refuses to ground men during a mission not because of a duty to his country or an altruistic aim for victory, but rather because he fears that he will be transferred to the Pacific if he defies his bosses. Milo Minderbinder serves as Heller's sharp and direct attack on capitalistic greed; he is characterized as a greedy soldier willing to make deals that benefit himself regardless of consequences, going so far as to fight for Germany at times and drop bombs on his own fellow soldiers (although these actions are half "justified" by him later in the book). Throughout the entire novel, officers like Colonel Cathcart focus solely on promotion. Cathcart's raising of the required missions not only serves as a way to follow along with the confusing chronology but also demonstrates Cathcart's greed and his willingness to put career over people.

But Yossarian also does feel regret and sorrow when his fellow crewmates and soldiers die — maybe we're not too bad after all? I'd like to think that we're driven my a sense of teamwork as a species, racing towards mutual wellbeing, but I understand that that view is not realistic. Instead, it's best sometimes to take in lessons from the quiet game: when we work together, we can achieve more and do better, but it's equally as important to be aware of one's environment and context.