In a move that has sent ripples through the educational establishment and caused a sharp spike in gin consumption among stressed headteachers, the Philippines has banned video games. Yes, the entire archipelago has decided that the only acceptable form of digital entertainment is now a PowerPoint presentation on the dangers of corruption. And, predictably, UK schools have responded with the kind of panic usually reserved for a sighting of a wasp in a summer fet.
The ban, announced by President Ferdinand 'Bongbong' Marcos Jr., cites a direct link between pixelated violence and actual playground fisticuffs. Never mind that most ten-year-olds can barely coordinate their thumbs to make a character jump, let alone plan a heist. No, the Philippine government sees the ghost of GTA haunting every corner, and they’ve decided to exorcise it with legislative holy water.
But it’s the reaction from our own hallowed halls of learning that has truly achieved peak absurdity. The Department for Education, never one to miss an opportunity for a circular, has issued guidance to schools on 'managing the digital diaspora.' This document, presumably written in crayon by a junior minister with a hangover, advises teachers to 'monitor pupils for signs of emotional distress' following the news. One headteacher in Slough has already set up a 'Sonic the Hedgehog bereavement corner' complete with tissues and a sad poster of Tails looking forlorn.
What next? A national curriculum module on the tragic loss of Candy Crush? State-funded therapy for Fortnite withdrawals? The governor of the Bank of England has been spotted nervously refreshing his Candy Crush leaderboard, muttering about 'systemic risks to the economy.'
Let’s be clear: nobody is saying that kids should be able to play games that involve recreating the Manson family’s greatest hits. But this is a blanket ban, an Exocet missile aimed at an ant with a water pistol. It doesn’t ban violent games. It bans all games. Even the educational ones where you teach a monkey to count bananas are now contraband. The only thing left for Filipino youth is to... go outside? Has anyone told them about the sun? It’s been known to cause vitamin D overdose.
Meanwhile, in Britain, the guidance is predictably useless. It suggests 'engaging in meaningful dialogue' about global events. Because nothing says 'educational excellence' like a Year 6 debate on international moral panics. “Please sir, I think the Philippines is wrong. Also, can I go to the toilet?”
This is the same country that, last year, banned Spice (the drug, not the music group). And look how that worked out. The streets are now filled with spice zombies who can’t remember their own names, let alone their primary school Minecraft passwords.
The truth is, this whole furore is a distraction. A shiny, digital bauble to stop us looking at the real problems: crumbling schools, underpaid teachers, and a complete lack of funding for anything beyond the Ministerial gin budget. But no, let’s all get worked up about whether little Johnny is sneaking a game of 'Grand Theft Auto: The Manila Expansion' when he’s supposed to be doing his times tables.
In conclusion, the Philippines has shown us that the answer to complex societal issues is always, always a simplistic ban. And Britain has shown us that the answer to a simplistic ban is always a pointless guidance document. I’m off to the pub to mourn the death of common sense over a large G&T. Cheers.
