The modern world thrives on systems: rankings, metrics, and “perfect” methods for everything from cooking pasta to evaluating academic departments. But this relentless drive for order isn’t always beneficial. C. Thi Nguyen, in his new book The Score, argues that the very systems designed to help us can instead capture our values, reducing diversity and stifling genuine exploration.
The Illusion of Perfect Systems
Nguyen begins with a seemingly harmless example: the pursuit of the “perfect” cacio e pepe. Physicists have devised a foolproof recipe using precise measurements and rigorous methods. While impressive, this approach reduces cooking to a mechanical process, eliminating the joyful messiness and individual expression that make it appealing. This illustrates a broader trend: the belief that order can be imposed on chaos, often at the expense of spontaneity and creativity.
The same principle applies to university and journal rankings. These metrics, intended to assess quality, instead prioritize adherence to narrow criteria. Nguyen points out that these rankings reward academics for answering “fairly arcane technical questions” rather than pursuing genuinely groundbreaking, but less quantifiable, research. This creates a system where the rules dictate the inquiry, not the other way around.
Value Capture: When Metrics Rule Us
This phenomenon, which Nguyen calls “value capture,” is pervasive. Metrics designed to be helpful end up dominating our behavior, shifting our focus from intrinsic motivation to external validation. The pursuit of higher scores, better rankings, and “optimal” outcomes becomes an end in itself, distorting the original purpose. This isn’t just about academia; it applies to everything from corporate performance indicators to national economic policies.
Why does this happen? Centralized bureaucracies and homogenizing nation-states often favor standardized metrics for control and efficiency. But such systems inevitably flatten nuance, ignore context, and suppress dissent. As James C. Scott argued in Seeing Like a State, scientifically planned societies frequently fail because they disregard the complexities of lived experience.
The Power of Play: A Counterbalance
Nguyen proposes a surprising solution: embrace the artificial constraints of games. He draws on his experience with Dungeons & Dragons, rock climbing, yoga, and yo-yoing to demonstrate how choosing to play by the rules can be liberating. In a game, the rules are explicit and voluntary. This allows for exploration, risk-taking, and a sense of agency that’s often absent in real-world systems. By deliberately submitting to a framework, we regain control over our participation.
This is not just escapism. Nguyen argues that games act as a “spiritual vaccine” against the insidious creep of institutional scoring. By practicing voluntary constraint, we become more resistant to the involuntary pressures of everyday life.
A Fresh Perspective on Old Ideas
Nguyen acknowledges that his arguments build on the work of scholars like Tim Marshall (who explores the influence of geography on geopolitics) and James C. Scott. However, his playful framing and personal anecdotes make the debate feel urgent and accessible. The book isn’t groundbreaking in its concepts, but it presents them with a refreshing clarity and conviction.
Ultimately, The Score serves as a warning: the pursuit of perfect systems can be a trap. By recognizing how rules can capture our values, and by actively choosing to engage with voluntary constraints through play, we can reclaim agency in a world increasingly governed by metrics and control.
