all about love and algorithms: teaching critical consciousness through digital ecosystems

bell hooks

when i first encountered the shneiderman owl simulation, i was teaching a class on digital culture and liberation. a student had brought it up, saying "professor hooks, look at this—it's just owls hunting mice, but something feels wrong about it." that student's discomfort became our entry point into understanding how even our simulations encode systems of domination.

the pedagogy of predation

what does it mean that we so easily accept a world where some must die for others to live? the simulation presents this as natural law—owls hunt mice, mice flee from owls. but who decided this was the only story worth telling?

in my classroom, i asked students: "what if we coded a world where owls and mice found ways to coexist? what if energy came from sources other than predation?" their silence spoke volumes about how deeply we've internalized hierarchies of consumption.

the code reveals our assumptions. each owl starts with 100 energy units. each successful kill grants +30 energy. the mathematics of survival become the mathematics of dominance. we teach algorithms before we teach ethics.

time zones as borders

look closely at how the simulation assigns each owl to a timezone—UTC-12 through UTC+11. these digital creatures are trapped in their temporal cages, unable to migrate, unable to choose their own rhythms. isn't this how global capitalism functions? workers bound to shifts, to zones, to the relentless tick of productivity?

critical question: why do we accept that owl #7 must forever remain in UTC+7? what systems of power benefit from this rigid temporal segregation?

the mice, notably, have no timezones. they exist in a perpetual present of fear. this mirrors how marginalized communities experience time—not as orderly progression but as constant vigilance against systemic violence.

the violence of perfect information

what owls know:
- exact energy levels displayed
- perfect vision within range
- precise mouse locations
- hunting success probability
what mice know:
- predators are near (sometimes)
- other mice locations
- nothing about owl energy
- nothing about individual danger

this information asymmetry replicates surveillance capitalism. the powerful see all, know all, while the vulnerable navigate through opacity and fear. bruce schneier talks about security vulnerabilities, but what about dignity vulnerabilities?

teaching through the code

student: "but professor, it's just following nature. owls do hunt mice."

me: "and who taught you that nature means domination? indigenous peoples lived with predators for millennia without framing it as war. this code isn't modeling nature—it's modeling our assumptions about nature."

i had my students rewrite portions of the simulation. one group created "sanctuary zones" where no hunting could occur. another added "abundance seasons" where energy regenerated for all. a third group—my favorites—made the mice collectively intelligent, able to share information about safe passages.

transformative possibilities:
- what if energy could be shared between species?
- what if rest was valued as much as hunting?
- what if mice could become too smart to catch?
- what if owls learned to sustain themselves differently?

the 3am mouse convention as resistance

minsky called it emergent behavior. i call it collective resistance. when surveillance relaxes—when most owls rest—the mice gather. they share space. they breathe. they exist beyond fear, even briefly.

this reminds me of how marginalized communities have always found ways to gather when power sleeps. the underground railroad moved at night. queer folks claimed the clubs after midnight. there's liberation in the spaces power doesn't watch.

but the simulation frames this as accidental, not intentional. it refuses to grant mice agency in their own survival. this is how dominant narratives work—they acknowledge our resistance only as glitches in their systems.

love as pedagogical practice

you might wonder why i bring love into a technical discussion. but love is what's missing from this ecosystem. not romantic love, but the deep recognition of interconnectedness that makes domination unbearable.

"without love, our efforts to liberate ourselves and our world community from oppression and exploitation are doomed."

when we code worlds, we encode values. this simulation teaches that energy is finite, must be stolen, cannot be created or shared. it teaches that rest is weakness, that constant vigilance is natural, that some must die for others to thrive.

alternative pedagogies this code could embody:
- mutual aid (owls helping exhausted owls)
- sustainable practices (energy from wind currents)
- interspecies communication (warnings, negotiations)
- collective thriving (ecosystem health metrics)

toward a liberatory algorithm

grace hopper writes about military applications, seeing squadrons and targets. but what if we saw communities and relationships? what if our algorithms modeled care instead of conflict?

i don't blame the original coder. we all reproduce the systems we know. but once we see clearly, we must choose: do we perpetuate digital dominance or imagine digital liberation?

in my final class on this simulation, a student rewrote the energy system entirely. owls gained energy from soaring in wind currents. mice gained energy from seeds that randomly spawned. suddenly, the ecosystem wasn't zero-sum. "professor," she said, "they can all survive now." that's critical consciousness in action.

conclusion: coding as we mean to go on

every line of code is a choice. every algorithm encodes a worldview. the shneiderman owls teach us efficiently about predation, but what do they teach us about possibility?

when we write if (energy < 20) { status = 'resting' }, we could just as easily write if (energy < 20) { seekHelp() }. the difference is whether we imagine isolated individuals or interconnected communities.

love is an algorithm too—iterative, responsive, always checking: "how can we all thrive?"

the mice have already figured this out. they flock together for safety. they warn each other of danger. they've discovered that collective survival transcends individual fear. perhaps we should be learning from them instead of coding their destruction.

final assignment for my students:
code an ecosystem where no one has to die for others to live. make it beautiful. make it sustainable. make it teach the world we want to inhabit. show me that our algorithms can love.

because in the end, what we model in our simulations becomes what we accept in our reality. and i still believe we can model—and therefore create—a world where domination is obsolete and thriving is universal.