The Philippines has banned a video game following a school shooting, citing British online safety laws as a model. This is a predictable response: a government, horrified by a tragedy, reaches for the nearest symbol of modernity to blame. The video game, a digital scapegoat, is sacrificed on the altar of political expediency. But let us examine this with the cold eye of history.
First, the British model is itself a work in progress, a legislative experiment whose results are far from proven. The Online Safety Act, for all its grand intentions, has been criticised for its vagueness and potential for censorship. To cite it as a model is to ignore the complex reality of its implementation. The Philippines would be wise to wait for empirical data before importing foreign laws wholesale.
Second, the causal link between video games and real-world violence is tenuous at best. Decades of research have failed to establish a convincing connection. The moral panic over video games echoes earlier panics over rock music, comic books, and even novels. Each generation finds a new medium to blame for societal ills. The school shooting is a tragedy, but it is a symptom of deeper problems: mental health, social isolation, family breakdown. A ban is a convenient distraction, a way for politicians to appear decisive without addressing the root causes.
Third, the timing is suspect. The ban comes amid a rise in nationalist rhetoric and a crackdown on digital freedoms. The government is using the tragedy as a pretext to expand its control over the internet. This is a pattern we have seen before: from the Roman Empire’s suppression of subversive texts to Victorian Britain’s censorship of ‘obscene’ literature. The state always seeks to monopolise the narrative.
What the Philippines needs is not a ban but a comprehensive strategy: better mental health services, gun control, community support. These are difficult, expensive, and require sustained effort. A ban is easy, cheap, and quickly forgotten. The British model, for all its flaws, at least includes a focus on platform accountability and user safety. But Singapore’s model of strict censorship is not the answer either.
We should be suspicious of any government that reacts to tragedy with a ban. It is the reflex of a state that fears its own citizens. The Victorians believed that controlling what people read would make them moral. They were wrong. The Romans believed that controlling what people watched would make them loyal. They were wrong. The modern Philippine government believes that banning a video game will make its people safe. It is wrong.
The real question is: what comes next? Will the ban extend to other games? Will it be used to silence critics? The history of such bans is not encouraging. They begin with a specific target and expand to encompass anything the government dislikes. The British model, if adopted uncritically, will not save lives. It will only give the state another tool to control speech.
In the end, the ban is a symbol of failure. It is an admission that the government cannot address the real problems. It is a surrender to the easy answer. The Philippines should look not to Britain but to reason. It should ask itself: what will make our children safer? The answer is not a ban. The answer is a society that values life over control.
