It is depressingly humorous to find myself imagining things before they happen, and later discovering how terribly deviant those thoughts are from reality. I would walk into my first lecture of the semester to see a professor that looks different from how I had imagined, or see a bed that is on the wall-side of the dorm instead of being by the window. It’s no detriment that things are different from how I had thought they would be — instead there is a weird spark of sensation that comes with that realization of discrepancy.
What makes those seemingly unspectacular moments special? No matter how insignificant they may seem, every moment bears a grandeur that comes from plunging into the wilderness. Every second, we are learning at the edge of our collective knowledge. Such a topological analogy of knowledge makes sense because “what-is-to-come” is never within our past. Suppose someone was here to tell us exactly what is going to happen, and we had every reason to believe that he was right. Then, when we come face-to-face with that forecasted moment, could we attribute it with the same sense of awe? I wouldn’t think so. The liberty to be surprised and to be wrong about something is a beautiful thing. It stands as a timeless reminder that we can always jump out of the frame of correctitude. I deem it a positive thing that we don’t (yet) have a divine entity that is here to tell us of our future. Unfortunately, other branches of “knowing” are not immune to such ruining; and aptly enough, we define the very act of taking that sensation away, “spoiling”.
I remember feeling almost obliged to watch the Avengers: Endgame on its day of release. Even the slightest possibility that I would be exposed to spoilers had me anxious whenever I was on social media during that week. With stories, I am adamant that discussions be ceased until its narrative has been consumed at its purest form by all the members taking part in that exchange. Experiencing or watching a story after receiving opinionated input inevitably becomes an evaluative experience that urges us to accredit or invalidate those opinions rather than help us formulate our own. Although some reactions did seem to be overboard, anger and hostility from the spoiled viewers are totally understandable.
Just as acts that infringe upon the rights and freedom of other individuals are punished, so should actions that hamper one’s sensations. As we approach an age where intangible and inanimate subjects are regarded with more reverence, we should start to think how infringement of such properties should be penalized. These matters may seem like distant topics that do not extend beyond a philosophy or psychology classroom, but they are the fundamental aspects that make up who we are as those who harbor the capacity to think and perceive.
On top of that, we need to do filmmakers justice by preventing their artwork from being distorted from how they intended them to be. From production to delivery, the work should be protected. The filmmakers invest a lot of time into facilitating a viewing experience that would arouse a specific array of sensations in their audiences. Just because films are a publicly presented form of artwork doesn’t mean those intended experiences should be perturbed by outside factors. Relying solely on the ethical responsibility of the audiences is not enough to secure these sophisticated deliverables. What is lost through spoilers is too significant to be made possible with the level of accountability we have today.