Yi Li is a London student studying public policy.



Game of Thrones—and especially the A Song of Ice and Fire series— is known for its shockingly young protagonists almost as much as for its liberal use of sex and violence. Adolescents in Martin’s world are thrust into places of great power and expected to display far more maturity and wisdom than we could ever expect of contemporary teenagers. And to a significant extent, they succeed. Robb is a better battle strategist in his teens than most lords could ever hope to be and Margaery a better political operator than Cersei could ever hope to be. Jon becomes a role model for his comrades in the Night’s Watch. Daenerys demonstrates the moral fiber and charismatic leadership to change the way of life of an entire region.

As someone who has studied neuroscience, I’ve often wondered— how realistic is it for the adolescents of Game of Thrones to behave as they do? How do they succeed and fail to live up to expectations of maturity?

First, it’s worth noting that discussion of the maturity of adolescent Game of Thrones characters will inevitably be somewhat vague. All the characters have been aged up somewhat for the show (in the books Robb and Jon are fourteen at the start of the series, Dany is thirteen, Sansa is eleven, and Arya is nine), but with the exception of Sansa, their exact ages on the show are not given. Meanwhile the actors and actresses playing them are either already in their mid- to late-twenties or growing like weeds before our eyes. As a consequence, it becomes increasingly difficult for the viewer to remember just how young characters like Jon and Dany are meant to be, as book readers tend to forget the characters’ ages as they watch them engage in increasingly sexual, violent, and political plotlines. For my purposes, it’s enough that we think of these characters as adolescents.

Though we might call these characters teenagers, no such category existed in either the world of Game of Thrones nor its real-life medieval counterpart. The concept of the teenager didn’t come into vogue until the twentieth century, as the advent of cars allowed adolescents greater mobility away from home and consolidated high schools brought greater numbers of teenagers together to form their own cultural identities. A number of other factors may have contributed to the development of teenagers as a large and culturally distinct group— including earlier ages of puberty (caused by improvements in health and nutrition), decreasing birthrates, and the increase in the amount of education necessary to become financially independent.

In contrast, in medieval England, common law held that a child was legally responsible for his or her actions by the age of twelve and the Catholic Church’s canon law considered girls marriageable by twelve and boys by fourteen. There was little recognition that though an adolescent might be physically mature, they might not emotionally be ready to take on the responsibilities of adults.

Much the same is true in Game of Thrones. Though characters occasionally recognize that being technically an adult is no guarantee of maturity— for example, Tyrion calls Sansa a “child” in protesting their marriage while both Jaime Lannister and Rickard Karstark call Robb “boy” to belittle him— they don’t have the concept to express it. Instead of recognizing the existence of an intermediate category, adults in Westeros resort to calling adolescent characters children when they behave like it or when it serves some purpose to emphasize their youth, while at the same time saddling them with very adult responsibilities. After all, Karstark and the other northern lords certainly had numerous concerns about Robb’s maturity in mind when they proclaimed him King of the North.

And if the people around you think you can and should lead, maybe you just might step up. Expectations do affect how we behave. Tell someone they’re kind and generous, and they’ll be more likely to donate to a charitable cause. Tell a kid they’re smart, and they’ll do better on their next test. We internalize what others expect of us and we, consciously or unconsciously, shape our behavior to match. It’s called the Pygmalion Effect, and the examples are legion.

But all the expectations in the world can’t make someone behave in a way they’re incapable of behaving. Teenage brains are qualitatively different than adult brains. (Click here to learn more about the teenaged brain.) From a neuropsychological perspective, do teenagers even have the capacity to be as successful as the adolescents of Game of Thrones?

Probably.

Teenagers certainly don’t lack for cognitive capacity. Even if it might not have seemed that way in high school, there’s no better time for learning and experimenting than during adolescence. In that sense, it’s not quite so unbelievable that leaders like Robb could surprise his generals with his feint at the Battle of Green Fork and Dany could plot a double-cross at Astapor when her more experienced advisors could not. It helps, too, that both Tywin and the slavers underestimated their adversaries precisely because of their age.

No, teenagers aren’t missing a part of their brain, but the ad has a grain of truth to it. The brain doesn’t fully mature until the early- to mid-twenties and the capacities that teenagers are most lacking help explain the ways in which young leaders like Robb, Jon, and Dany fail to live up to the expectations placed on them. The very last area to mature is the prefrontal cortex. In adults, the prefrontal cortex sends inhibitory signals to the parts of our brain responsible for our desire for immediate gratification to allow us to make more carefully considered decisions and stick to our more rational long-term plans.

Throughout the teens and early twenties, fibers in the prefrontal cortex accumulate a layer of fatty insulation called myelin, which allows signals to travel faster. Thus, adults are able to more effectively dampen down their need to indulge immediate impulses—the impulse to bed that hot Volantene field nurse, for example— compared to teenagers. 3 Paired with the fact that teenagers react more strongly to emotional stimulus than adults do3, it’s easy to imagine why these leaders may not always make the most pragmatic decisions when tempers and libidos run high.

Even the strengths of Game of Thrones’ young leaders can cut against them. From Robb’s cause of Northern independence to Dany’s abolitionist agenda to Jon’s eventual willingness to negotiate with the wildings, the younger generation demonstrates a willingness to pursue new ways of doing things and to shape the world to their ideals. Game of Thrones, and especially Dany’s storyline, show that such idealism is both the greatest strength and greatest weakness of its young leaders. The former slave Fennesz tells Dany in “The Children” that “the young may rejoice in the new world you’ve built for them. But for those of us too old to change, there is only fear and squalor.”

Dany was able to gain the love and loyalty of the slaves because her conviction comes across in every word—her youthful idealism is what makes her a charismatic leader capable of mobilizing masses to her cause. But her age and inexperience also means that the difficulties that come with preventing mass poverty and maintaining order after cutting through the cornerstone of the region’s economy comes as a genuine surprise to her.

Like many, when I first saw Game of Thrones (and even more so when I read the books), the ages of the characters seemed preposterous—a detail adding even more shock value to the already deplorable conditions that these characters find themselves in. Yet, I think we find that, upon further examination, the strengths and weaknesses of Game of Thrones’ adolescent characters can be explained in terms of neuropsychological differences between adults and teenagers. What may seemed hardest to believe about Robb and Dany and all the rest turn out to be what makes them most recognizable as teenagers and relatable to young viewers and readers.

Not bad, Martin (and Dan and David). Not bad at all.