Author: Michael LaBossiere

Higher education in the United States has largely embraced the business model. One highly visible example of this is the brand merchandizing of schools. Schools have licensed their names and logos for billions of dollars. Inspired by these brand-based profits, schools trademarked their slogans. Impressively, there are over 10,000 trademarked slogans.

Trademarked school slogans include “project safety” (University of Texas), “ready to be heard” (Chatham University), “power” (University of North Dakota), “rise above” (University of the Rockies), “students with diabetes” (University of South Florida), “student life” (Washington University in St. Louis) and “resolve” (Lehigh University). Those not familiar with trademark law might be surprised by some of these examples. After all, “student life” seems such a common phrase on campuses that it would be insane for a school to be allowed to trademark it. But one should never let sanity or logic be one’s guide when considering how the law works.

While the trademarking undertaken by schools might seem odd but harmless, the main purpose of a trademark is so that the owner enjoys an exclusive right and can sue others for using it. This is, of course, limited to certain contexts. So, for example, if I write about student life at Florida A&M University in a blog, Washington University would (I hope) not be able to sue me. However, in circumstances in which the trademark protection applies, then lawsuits are possible (and likely). For example, Eastern Carolina University sued Cisco Systems because of Cisco’s use of the phrase “tomorrow begins here.”

One practical and moral concern about universities’ enthusiasm for trademarking is that it has pushed higher education deeper into the realm of business. One might think universities should be focused on education rather than business—after all, an institution that does not focus on its core mission tends to do worse at that mission. This would also be morally problematic, if schools should (morally) focus on education.

An easy and obvious reply is that a university can wear many hats: educator, business, “professional in all but name” sport franchise and so on provided that each function is run properly and not operated at the expense of the core mission. Naturally, it could be added that the core mission of the modern university is not education, but business—branding, marketing and making money.

Another reply is that trademarks protect the university brand and allow them to make money by merchandizing their slogans and suing people for trademark violations. This money could then be used to support the core mission of the school.

There is, naturally enough, the worry that universities should not be focusing on branding and suing. While this can make them money, it is not what a university should be doing—which takes the conversation back to the questions of the core mission of universities as well as the question about whether schools can wear many hats without losing focus.

A second legal and moral concern is the impact trademarks have on free speech. On the one hand, United States law is clear about trademarks and the 1st Amendment.  The gist is that noncommercial usage is protected by the 1st Amendment and this allows such things as using trademarked material in protests or criticism. So, for example, the 1st Amendment allows me to include the above slogans in this essay. Not surprisingly, commercial usage is subject to trademark law. So, for example, I could not use the phrase “the power of independent thinking” as a slogan for my blog since that belongs to Wilkes University. In general, this seems reasonable. After all, if I created and trademarked a branding slogan for my blog, then I would certainly not want other people using my trademarked slogan. But, of course, I would be fine with people using the slogan when criticizing my blog—that would be acceptable use under freedom of expression.

On the other hand, trademark holders do sometimes try to exploit their trademarks and people’s ignorance of the law to their advantage. For example, threats made involving claims of alleged trademark violations are sometimes used as a means of censorship and silencing critics.

An obvious reply is that this is not a problem with trademarks as such. It is, rather, a problem with people misusing the law. There is, of course, the legitimate concern that the interpretation of the law will change and that trademark protection will be allowed to encroach on freedom of expression.

What might be a somewhat abstract point of concern is the idea that what seem to be stock phrases such as “the first year experience” (owned by University of South Carolina) can be trademarked and owned. This diminishes the public property that is language and privatizes it in favor of those with the resources to take over tracts of linguistic space. While the law currently still allows non-commercial use, this also limits the language other schools and businesses can legally use. It also requires that they research all the trademarks before using common phrases if they wish to avoid a lawsuit from a trademark holder. It has also long struck me as bizarre that someone can claim ownership of words and sentences, they did not create. But, of course, people also claim ownership of land and resources they obviously did not create. Ownership is weird.

The obvious counter, which I mentioned above, is that trademarks have a legitimate function. The obvious response is that there is still a reasonable concern about allowing private ownership of language and restricting freedom of expression. There is a need to balance whatever legitimate need there is to own branding slogans with the legitimate need to allow the use of stock and common phrases in commercial situations.  The challenge is to determine the boundary between the two and where a specific phrase or slogan falls. Or we could also consider that the approach of owing and exploiting common goods for profit is a bad idea and maybe we should do that less. Or not at all.

 

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It can be argued that providing college education to prisoners yields practical benefits and that there are ethical reasons for doing so.  If a function of the prison system is to reform prisoners so that they do not return to crime after they are released, then there is very good reason to support programs, such as that offered by Bard college, that provide college education to prisoners.

Since 2001 over a thousand prisoners have received college degrees from Bard. Of those released from prison, between 2.5 and 5% have been arrested again. In contrast, 75% of state prison inmates are arrested and incarcerated again within five years of their release. Prisoners who participate in education programs are also less likely to return to prison than former prisoners who did not participate in such programs.

Given the very high cost of incarceration (about $60,000 per year), reducing the number of people returning to prison would save the state and taxpayers money. There is also the cost of crime, both to the victims and society in general.

Of course, there is the (evil) practical concern that the prison-industrial complex in the United States is a job and profit creator (mostly transferring public money to the private sector) and having fewer people in prison would be a practical loss, economically speaking, for those who profit from the for-profit prison system. Also, scare tactics involving crime are a basic tool of politicians and pundits and addressing crime would be detrimental to them. Although, to be fair and balanced, they could just lie more about the crime statistics.

In moral terms, a utilitarian argument can be given in favor of such programs. Using the stock utilitarian moral argument, if the benefits generated by the education programs outweighed the harm, this would make them morally correct. There is, of course, also the moral value in having people not committing crimes and being, instead, positive members of the community.

One practical objection is that the cost of such programs might exceed the benefits. This is partially a factual matter, namely weighing the economic cost of crime and imprisonment against the cost of providing such programs in terms of dollars. The positive economic value of such programs should be considered as well. The cost to the state can, obviously, be offset if the programs are supported by others (such as donors and private universities). Given the cost of incarceration, practical considerations seem to favor the programs. However, this can be debated.

Another practical objection is that the benefits being discussed arise only when a released prisoner does not return to prison because of the education program. If a prisoner is serving a sentence that will keep them in prison for life, then there would seem to be no practical benefit. The counter to this is that most prisoners are not in prison for life, so this would apply in only a very few cases that would be offset by the cases in which people do leave prison.

It could also be claimed that the education programs are not the cause of the former prisoners remaining out of prison. After all, this could be a case of a common cause (that is, what seems to be a cause and an effect are really both effects of an underlying cause): the qualities that would cause a prisoner to participate in such an education program are likely to be the same ones that would make it less likely that the former prisoner would return. If this is the case, then it could be argued that such programs are not needed since they are not actually the causal factor.

While it is always wise to consider the possibility of a common cause, it does make sense that an education program would have causal role to play in a former prisoner not returning to prison. At the very least, education would increase the chances of the person getting a job and this would have an impact on the likelihood that they would return to crime. Most people, even President Trump, do not do crimes for no reason. Most people will also pick not doing crimes over doing crimes if they can get what they want or need.

It can also be argued that even if the former prisoners who would have been in the program would not have returned to prison anyway, the value of the education itself would justify the programs. I do believe that education has intrinsic value. However, this is not a view that is shared by everyone, and it can obviously be argued against, usually on economic grounds.

In general, though, the education programs seem worthwhile, if only on practical grounds. In cases in which education programs are being privately funded, there seems to be no practical reason to oppose them, especially if they have the claimed benefits regarding recidivism. Unless, of course, one considers the desires of those who profit from the for-profit prison system and those who desire that other people suffer.

One moral objection that can be raised against these programs is that resources are being expended on prisoners that could be used to help non-prisoners who cannot afford an education. One might also add that prisons (are alleged to) exist to punish people for their crimes and not to reward them. As such, prisoners should not receive such education. Instead, any resources that might have been spent on educating prisoners should be spent on assisting non-prisoners who cannot afford college. Of course, there are those who would not want to assist even non-prisoners who cannot afford college.

This moral objection does have some bite. After all, a person in need who has not committed crimes seems more deserving of assistance than someone who has committed crimes. If it did, in fact, come down to a choice between helping a non-criminal or a criminal, then it would seem preferable to assist the non-criminal—just as it would be preferable to spend money on education and infrastructure rather than on enriching the rich. It would also be preferable to spend money on addressing the causes of crime rather than creating a prison-industrial complex.

A reply to this objection is based on the fact that it is very expensive to imprison a person. While it would be preferable to avoid having to imprison people, once they are in prison it would seem desirable to invest a little more to keep them from returning to prison. Calculating this would involve using the cost of the education, the cost of keeping the prisoner in prison, the likely chance of returning to prison and for how long. To use a made-up example, if it cost $31,000 for a prisoner to get her degree and $31,000 a year to keep her locked up, then if there is a good chance that her degree would keep her out of prison for another four-year sentence, then it would seem to be worthwhile even as a gamble. After all, spending $31,000 is likely to save much more money. If the fact that she is likely to be a contributing member of society is factored in, the deal is even better. So, the gist of the reply is that spending the money education does make sense, if it has a good chance of saving money and doing some social good. If the money is not spent on education, then it seems likely that even more will be spent on dealing with recidivism. Either way society pays, the question is not whether one should spend more or less but whether one should pay for something positive (education) or negative (locking someone up). So, it is not a matter of spending money that could be spent to assist non-criminals, it is a matter of how to spend the money that will be spent either way.

I understand how someone struggling to pay for college would be outraged if prisoners  were getting an education for free and this is something that evil (or ignorant) politicians exploit. However, my reply to this is that paying for the education of a prisoner, assuming it reduces recidivism, is cheaper than paying to keep locking the prisoner up. Also, it is unlikely that the money spent on educating prisoners would be redirected to pay for the education of non-prisoners.

It might be objected that the problem should be addressed before people go to prison, that there should be education programs designed to assist people who are at risk for prison, but are also likely to be able to complete college and avoid prison.

In reply, I agree completely. It is better that a person never goes to prison in the first place and education is a much better investment than prison (except for those who profit from the for-profit prison system). There are, of course, those who would disagree and argue that it is better to let people end up in prison than to spend public money on college education. Others could argue that while such plans might be good intentioned, they would not work—the money would be spent, and the result would merely be educated criminals. These objections are worth considering, but I would still contend that spending on education to keep people out of prison is preferable to spending money to keep people in prison. But I don’t own a prison, and I am not driven by a desire to make people suffer.

 

 

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As a college student and professor, I am familiar with the unfortunate pattern of the Greek system on American campuses. Something awful will happen involving a fraternity or sorority, such as sexual assault, racist stuff, or a hazing death. Then there will be a backlash and calls for banning fraternities (and sometimes sororities). Administrative action will follow, such as hiring well-paid consultants to solve the image problem and creating some new bureaucracy on campus. Academics like me will write think pieces about the Greek system. The media will cover the event, squeezing out the blood and pain as long as they can.  Finally, things return to normal in time for the next terrible incident that grabs the attention of the media. Because of this, people regularly argue for getting rid of fraternities. I will, of course, focus on the moral arguments.

The main moral argument for banning fraternities is utilitarian: fraternities create more harm than good, thus making their removal morally correct. In terms of the harm, the catalog is unsurprising and certainly matches the usual intuitions about campus life in general and fraternities in particular.

First, while college students are often heavy drinkers, fraternity members  are more likely to engage in heavy and binge drinking (75%) than the general college population of men (49%). This heavier drinking means fraternity members suffer more from the negative effects of heavy drinking (such as injuries and academic problems). In addition to alcohol, fraternity members also abuse drugs (prescription and otherwise) at higher rates than non-fraternity members. Sorority members are also more likely to engage in heavy and binge drinking than their non-Greek counterparts.

Second, fraternity members are much more likely than non-fraternity members to commit sexual assault. It must, however, be noted that most fraternity men never commit sexual assault. While there is some disagreement about the causes, this is typically linked to the greater abuse of alcohol, group psychology and fraternity culture. Sorority members are more likely to be sexually assaulted than their non-Greek counterparts. This is also linked to alcohol abuse and cultural factors.

Third, there is hazing. On average, about one person is killed per year due to a hazing incident. Others are injured or otherwise harmed. Most fraternities officially ban hazing, but it persists. Obviously, hazing is not confined to fraternities—my own Florida A&M University lost a student, Robert Champion, to band hazing in 2011. While sororities also engage in hazing, fraternities are the ones that make the news the most often.

These harms fuel the utilitarian argument for banning fraternities (and sororities) as eliminating them will reduce the harm. To be specific, if fraternities cause their members to abuse alcohol, commit sexual assault and haze more than they would otherwise, then getting rid of them would reduce (but obviously not eliminate) these problems.

One response is to argue that banning fraternities would not have the desired effect. It can be claimed that fraternities merely group people who would behave badly on their own and a ban would not have a significant impact. This does have some appeal in that non-fraternity members do binge drink, do commit sexual assault and do engage in hazing.

This response can be countered by arguing that a fraternity does not just collect people who would behave badly on their own, but the social dynamics and culture of the fraternity play a causal role in this bad behavior. The group dynamics change individual behavior and a man who is in a fraternity is more likely to behave badly because of that membership. Given the studies of group dynamics, this is appealing: people do behave differently in groups and humans are often easily swayed by cultural factors and peer pressure.

Another response to the argument for banning fraternities is to admit that fraternities do cause some problems, but to counter by arguing that the good they create outweighs the harm. In defense of fraternities, people typically point to some of the following benefits.

First, fraternities often engage in charity work and community service—they do good things for the campus and general community. While I was not in a fraternity in college, many of my friends were and they did many good things and are still good men today. As a faculty member and a member of the community, I also see the good work done by fraternity members.

Second, fraternities provide opportunities for leadership, brotherhood and the forging of social connections that often prove very useful later in life. Fraternities have a well-established history of producing leaders in various fields, such as business and politics. 

These benefits are appealing and some fraternities include upstanding and outstanding men who do good on campus and go on to do good after they graduate. These positive factors should not be simply ignored or dismissed.

That said, as with any utilitarian calculation, the positive must be weighed against the negative. In this case, the question is whether the benefits of fraternities outweigh the harms. There is also the related question of whether banning them would create more good than harm.

This is partially a matter of facts—the statistics about drinking, sexual assault and so on are factual and should be addressed by the usual rational means of assessment. However, it is also a matter of value in terms of how much weight is placed on each positive and each negative factor. To use a dramatic example, this would involve questions about how many sexual assaults are offset by fraternity contributions to networking, leadership development and campus service. While some would be inclined to take the view that the number should be zero, it must be noted that we routinely tolerate horrible consequences in return for positive consequences. For example, tens of thousands of people die each year due to automobile accidents, yet we still tolerate driving. So, weighing the awful against the positive is, sadly, how we do things as a species. And, for utilitarian calculations, how they should be done. The obvious practical problem is that people disagree about these evaluations, and such disagreements need to be settled in order to make a decision. Obviously enough, defenders of the fraternity system would contend the positives outweigh the negative. Detractors would claim the reverse.

Naturally, there are alternative moral approaches to utilitarianism. For example, one might take the view that to weigh the benefits of fraternities against the fact that fraternity men are significantly more likely to engage in sexual assault is a moral travesty. The fraternities should be shut down, it might be argued, because sexual assault is to be prevented. While this does have some appeal, the same reasoning could be pushed to the entire university system: since sexual assault occurs on campus and eliminating campuses would eliminate sexual assault on campus, campuses should be eliminated.

My own view is mixed. Given the harms associated with fraternities, there is a moral case for eliminating them. That said, there are some positive aspects to the fraternity system that can support a moral case for preserving them, presumably with some reforms. And thus concludes this think piece; simply refer back to it the next time something awful happens involving a fraternity (or sorority).

 

 

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While I have been playing computer games since I hunted the Wumpus on a DECwriter , I still think it is odd that competitive gamers have been dubbed “e-athletes.” Some colleges offer athletic scholarships to these e-athletes and field sports teams. As with some other college sports, these e-athletes can go pro and play video games competitively.

While seeing video games as sports and gamers as e-athletes is probably harmless, there are some grounds for believing these designations are not accurate. Intuitively, playing a video game, even competitively, is not a sport and working a keyboard or controller (even very well) does not seem very athletic. Since I am both an athlete (college varsity in track and cross country and I still compete in races) and a gamer I have some insight into this matter.

But there is the question of why this is even worth considering. After all, why should anyone care whether e-athletes are considered athletes or not?  Does it matter whether video game competitions are sports or not? One reason (which is probably not a good one) is a matter of pride. Athletes often think being an athlete is an accomplishment that sets them apart from others As such, they can be concerned about what counts as being an athlete.  This is, some would say, supposed to be an earned title and not one to be appropriated by just anyone.

To use an obvious analogy, consider being a musician. Like athletes, musicians often take pride in being set apart from others based on this defining activity. It matters to them who is and is not considered a musician. Sticking with the analogy, to many athletes the idea that a video gamer is an athlete would be like saying to a musician that someone who plays Rock Band or Guitar Hero is a musician just like them.

Naturally it could be argued that this is vanity and such distinctions lack significance. If e-athletes want to think of themselves in the same category as Jessie Owens or if people who play Guitar Hero want to think they keep company with Hendrix or Clapton, then so be it.

While that sort of egalitarianism has a certain appeal, there is also the matter of the usefulness of categories. On the face of it, the category of athlete is a useful and meaningful category, just as the category of musician is useful and meaningful. As such, it seems worth maintaining some distinctions in these classifications.

Turning back to the matter of whether e-athletes are athletes, the obvious point of concern is determining the conditions under which a person is (and is not) an athlete. This will, I believe, prove trickier to sort out than it would first appear.

One obvious starting point is the matter of competition. Athletes typically compete and competitive video games obviously involve competition. However, being involved in competition does not appear to be a necessary or sufficient condition for being an athlete. After all, there are many competitions (such as spelling bees and art shows) that are not athletic in nature. Also, there are people who clearly seem to be athletes who do not compete. For example, I know runners who do not compete in races, although they run many miles. There are also people who practice martial arts, bike, swim and so on and never compete. However, they seem to be athletes. As such, this does not settle the matter. However, the discussion does seem to indicate that being an athlete is a physical sort of thing.

When distinguishing an athlete from, for example, a mathlete or chess player, the key difference seems to lie in the nature of the activity. Athletics is primarily physical in nature (although the mental is very significant) while being something like a mathlete or chess player is primarily mental. This seems to suggest a legitimate ground of distinction, though this must be discussed further.

Those who claim that video gaming is a sport and that e-athletes are athletes tend to focus on the similarities between sports and video games. One similarity is that both require certain skills and abilities.

Competitive video gaming does require physical skills and abilities. Gamers need good reflexes, the ability to make tactical or strategic judgments and so on. These are skills that are also possessed by paradigm cases of athletes, such as tennis players and baseball players. However, they are also skills and abilities that are possessed by non-athletes. For example, these skills are used by people who drive, pilot planes, and operate heavy machinery. Intuitively, I am not an athlete because I am able to drive my truck competently, so being able to play a video game competently should not qualify me as an athlete.

Specifying the exact difference is difficult, but a reasonable suggestion is that in the case of athletics the application of skill involves a more substantial aspect of the physical body than does driving a car or playing a video game. A nice illustration of this is comparing a tennis video game with the real thing. A tennis video game can require some of the skills of real tennis, but a key difference is that in real tennis the player is fully engaged in body rather than merely pushing buttons. That is, the real tennis player must run, swing, backpedal and so on for real. The video game player has all this done for her at the push of a button. This seems to be an important difference.

To use an analogy, consider the difference between a person who creates a drawing from a photo and someone who uses a Photoshop filter to transform a photo into what looks like a drawing.  Or someone who prompts an AI to create the image for them. One person is acting as an artist; the other is just clicking the mouse or typing a prompt.

It might be objected that it is skill that makes video gamers athletes.  In reply, operating complex industrial equipment, programming a computer, performing surgery, repairing a HVAC,  or other such things also require skills, but I would not call a programmer an athlete. Nor would I call a surgeon an athlete, despite the skill required and the challenges she faces trying to save lives.

Sticking with gaming, playing a board game like Star Fleet Battles or classic tabletop war games also requires skills and involves competition. Some games even require fast reflexes. However, when I am pushing a plastic Federation heavy cruiser around a map and rolling dice to hit Klingon D7 battle cruisers with imaginary photon torpedoes, it is evident that this does not make me a tabletop athlete. Even if I am good at it and competing in a tournament. Likewise, if I am pushing around a virtual warrior in a video game competition, I am not an athlete because of this.  I’m a gamer.

This is not to look down on gaming—after all, I am a gamer and I take my gaming almost as seriously as I do my running. Rather, it is just to argue what seems obvious: video gaming is not an athletic activity and video gamers are not athletes. They are gamers and there seems to be no reason to come up with a new category, that of e-athlete.  I do not, however, have any issue with people getting scholarships for being college gamers. And I can imagine that there are practical reasons to classify gamers as athletes for the purposes of scholarship rules and such.  I would have loved to have received a D&D or Call of Cthulhu scholarship when I went to college. I’d have worn that letter jacket with pride, too. Especially if it had the Elder sign on it.

 

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Peaceful protest is a basic right and in a democratic state the police should not interfere with that right. However, protests do escalate and violence can occur. In the United States it is all too common for peaceful protests to be marred by violence—such as damage to businesses and looting. The police are sometimes the instigators of violence, attacking peaceful protestors and then blaming the victims.

When considering reports of damage and looting during protests it is reasonable to consider whether this is being done by protestors or opportunists using the protest as cover or excuse. It is also worth considering that the reports are not true, especially now under the Trump regime.

An actual protestor is someone whose primary motivation is moral —they are there to express a moral condemnation of something perceived as wrong. Not all people who go to protests are actual protestors—some are there for other reasons. Some people believe a protest can provide an excellent opportunity for them to engage in criminal activity—to commit violence, to damage property and to loot. Protests do attract such people and often these are often not from the area.

Of course, actual protestors can engage in violence and damage property. Perhaps they can even engage in looting (though that almost certainly crosses a moral line). Anger and rage are powerful things, especially righteous anger. A protestor who is motivated by her moral condemnation of a perceived wrong can give in to her anger and do damage to others or their property. When people damage the businesses in their own community, this sort of behavior seems irrational. After all, setting a local gas station on fire generally won’t be morally justified by the alleged injustice. However, anger tends to impede rationality. I, and I assume most people, have seen people angry enough to break their own property. One example of this is when MAGA folks buy merchandise just to destroy it as an act of protest, usually against a company pretending to care about some issue.

While I am not a psychologist, I suspect that people sometimes engage in such violence because they cannot reach the target of their anger. Alternatively, they might be damaging property to vent their rage in place of harming people. I have seen people do just that. For example, I once saw someone hit a metal door frame (and break his hand) rather than hit the person he was mad at. Anger does summon up a need to express itself and this can easily take the form of property damage.

When a protest becomes destructive (or those using it for cover start destroying things), the police can often be justified in intervening. While protests are intended to draw attention and try to do so by creating a disruption of the normal course of events, a state of protest does not grant protestors a carte blanche right to interfere with the rights of others. As such, the police have a legitimate right to prevent protestors from violating the rights of others and this can sometimes involve the use of force. That said, sometimes the police are the ones engaged in the violation of rights, such as the infamous cases involving ICE under the Trump regime.

That said, the role of rage needs to be considered. When property is destroyed during protests, some condemn the destruction and wonder why people are destroying their own neighborhoods. In some cases, as noted above, the people doing the damage might not be from the neighborhood and might be there to destroy neighborhood property rather than to protest. If such people can be identified, they should be dealt with as criminals. What is morally problematic is when people are driven to such destruction by moral rage, that is, they have been pushed to a point at which they believe they must use violence and destruction to express their moral condemnation.

When looked at from a cool and calm perspective of distance, such behavior can seem irrational and unwarranted.  However, it is well worth it to think of something that has caused the fire of righteous anger to ignite your soul. Think of that and consider how you might respond if you believed that you have been systematically denied justice. Over. And over. Again. 

 

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The Republican narrative that gun violence is caused by mental illness is sometimes true, much as a broken analog clock is right two times a day. On November 20, 2014, Myron May shot three people on the FSU campus in Tallahassee, Florida. He was shot to death after firing at the police. I did not know May, but I know people who did. That is the sort of place Tallahassee is: if you don’t know someone, you know someone who does.

May can be seen as a fourth victim.  May had been a cross-country runner who graduated from FSU and went to law school. During most of his life, May seemed to be the last person who would hurt anyone else—he was well regarded and interested in doing good for the community. But he showed signs of mental illness that culminated in his death on the campus he loved.  As would be expected, while the Republican narrative blames mental illness, the party is not inclined to do anything to address the mental health crisis in America. While the Democrats do talk about gun control and helping Americans with health issues, they have largely proven ineffective. But this essay isn’t about criticizing our two awful political parties, but to discuss mental illness and gun violence.

As I learned many shootings ago, a person can usually only be involuntarily detained for mental health issues when they present an imminent danger. Because of this high threshold, authorities often cannot act until it is too late.

It can be argued that the threshold should be lower so a person can be helped before they engage in violence. The practical challenge is determining the extent to which a person presents a danger to himself or others. The moral challenge is justifying lowering the threshold.

Oen approach is using a utilitarian argument: helping someone before they engage in violence will help prevent such violence. That said, there is a moral concern with allowing authorities to act because someone  might do something. It must be noted that mentally ill people are more likely to be victims than perpetrators of violence.

It could be countered that certain mental issues are adequate evidence that a person is reasonably likely to engage in harmful behavior, even though they have done nothing to reach the imminent danger threshold.

This has some appeal. By analogy to physical health, if certain factors indicate a high risk of an illness, then it is sensible to treat that condition before it manifests. Likewise, if certain factors indicate a high risk of a person with mental issues engaging in violence, then it makes sense to treat for that condition before it manifests.

An obvious objection is that people can refuse medical treatment for physical conditions and hence they should be able to do the same for mental issues. A reply is that if a person refuses treatment for a physical ailment, they are usually only endangering themselves. But if someone refuses treatment for a condition that can result in her engaging in violence against others, then she is putting others in danger without their consent and she does not have the liberty or right to do this.

To use another analogy, some forms of mental illness can be seen as analogous to infectious diseases. The analogy is not that mental illness can be caught, but that an infected person presents a serious risk to others and, likewise, a person with a certain sort of mental illness can also present a serious risk to others. Provided that there is adequate evidence of the danger, then the state could be warranted in acting against the individual’s will. The practical challenge is determining what conditions warrant acting. The infectious disease analogy does make this even more political, given the ideological battles over COVID-19.

One practical concern is that mental health science is far behind physical health sciences and the physical health sciences are still relatively primitive. Because of this, predictions about mental health can be unreliable. Using the coercive power of the state on such a tenuous foundation would be morally problematic. After all, a person can only be justly denied liberty on adequate grounds, and such a prediction is not strong enough to warrant such action. Also, as noted above, people with mental illnesses are more likely to be victims than perpetrators. As such, focusing on preventing mass shootings by policing mental health does not seem like a good approach. But addressing the health issues in the United States would be good.

A counter to this is to argue that preventing a mass shooting is worth the price of denying people their freedom. An obvious worry is that without clear guidelines and limitations, this principle could be extended to anyone who might commit a crime—thus justifying locking up people for being potential criminals. This would  be wrong.

It might be countered that there is no danger of the principle being extended and that such worries are worries based on a slippery slope. After all, one might say, the principle only applies to those deemed to have a certain sort of mental issue. Normal people, one might say in a calm voice, have nothing to worry about.

However, it seems that normal people would have reason to worry. After all, it is “normal” for people to have mental issues (such as depression) because our society is a stressful nightmare.  There is also the concern that the application of the fuzzy science of mental health might result in people being subject to coercion without real justification. 

Considering these considerations, it might be worth reconsidering the threshold for applying the coercive power of the state to people with mental issues. However, this reconsideration needs to involve carefully considered guidelines and should be focused on helping people rather than merely locking them away in the hope of protecting others. Or yet another example of ineffective political theater. Obviously, some would argue that the best way to address gun violence is to focus on guns.

The situation at FSU also illustrated another point of moral concern. If we take the claim that some mass shooters are mentally ill seriously, then using lethal force against them would be morally problematic. While police have some less-than-lethal options like Tasers and nightsticks, these are not very effective against someone armed with a gun. There have been some efforts to produce less-than-lethal options that are as or nearly effective as guns, but these options have not proven successful, and police have generally not adopted them.

From a moral perspective, it would be preferable if officers had better less-than-lethal options. In the case of May’s situation, if he had been rendered unable to act rather than shot to death, he might have been able to benefit from medical help and return to a normal life. In the case of criminals who are not suffering from mental illness, it would still seem morally preferable to subdue them without shooting them. As such, there is a good moral reason to develop an effective less-than-lethal weapon.

It is also important to note that such a weapon would need to be effective enough to morally justify its use in place of a gun. Such a weapon could be less effective than a gun and still be acceptable, but there is an important question about how effective the weapon would need to be. In practical terms, of course, there is the question of whether such a weapon is possible. After all, while something like the stun setting on a Star Trek phaser would be ideal, it is likely to always be science fiction.

In closing, some might argue that this essay is misguided. Debating about mental illness and discussing less-than-lethal options is a distraction from the real problem, which is the horrible society that is inflicted upon us. The real solution, one might argue, is fixing the nightmare in which the rest of us are ruled over by the cruel, the ignorant and the wicked.

 

 

 

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Bionics have long been part of science fiction (most famously the Six Million Dollar Man), the reality of prosthetics has mostly been disappointing. But, thanks to America’s endless wars and advances in technology, bionic prosthetics are real. There are, for example, replacement legs that replicate the functionality of the original organic versions quite well. There have also been advances in prosthetic arms and hands as well as progress in artificial sight.  As with all technology, these devices raise ethical issues.

The easiest moral issue to address involves restorative bionics. These are devices that restore a degree of the original functionality possessed by the lost limb or organ. For example, a soldier who lost the lower part of her leg to an IED might receive a bionic device that restores much of the functionality of the lost leg. As another example, a person who lost an arm in an industrial accident might be fitted with a replacement that does some of what he could do with the original.

On the face of it, the burden of proof would seem to rest on those who would claim that the use of restorative bionics is immoral—after all, they merely restore functionality. However, there is still a moral concern about the obligation to provide restorative bionics. One version of this is the matter of whether the state is morally obligated to provide such devices to soldiers injured in the course of their duties. Another is whether insurance should cover such devices for the general population.

The usual argument against both obligations is financial—such devices are expensive. Turned into a utilitarian moral argument, the argument would be that the cost outweighs the benefits; therefore, the state and insurance companies should not pay for such devices. One reply, at least in the case of the state, is that the state owes the soldiers restoration. After all, if a soldier lost the use of a body part (or parts) in the course of her duty, then the state is obligated to replace that part if possible. Roughly put, if Sally gave her leg for her country and her country can provide her with a bionic leg, then it should do so.

In the case of insurance, the matter is somewhat more complicated. In the United States, medical insurance a private, for-profit business. As such, a financially focused person could argue that the obligations of the insurance company are limited to the contract with the customer. So, if Sam has coverage that pays for his leg replacement, then the insurance company is obligated to honor that. If Bill does not have such coverage, then the company is not obligated to provide the replacement.

Switching to a utilitarian counter within the realm of practical concerns, it can be argued that bionic replacements would save money in the long term. Inferior prosthetics can cause pain, muscle and bone issues and other problems that generate ongoing costs. In contrast, a superior prosthetic can avoid many of those problems and allow the person to better return to the workforce or active duty. As such, there seem to be excellent practical reasons in support of the state and insurance companies providing such restorative bionics. I now turn to the ethics of bionics in sports.

Thanks to the infamous “Blade Runner” Oscar Pistorious, many people are familiar with unpowered, relatively simple prosthetic legs that allow people to engage in sports. Since these devices seem inferior to the original organics, there is little moral worry here iabout fairness. After all, a device that merely allows a person to compete as he would with his original parts does not seem to be morally problematic. This is because it confers no unfair advantage and merely allows the person to compete normally. There is, however, the concern about devices that are inferior to the original as these would put an athlete at a disadvantage and could warrant special categories in sports to allow for fair competition. Some of these categories already exist and more should be expected in the future.

Of greater concern are bionic devices that are superior to the original organics in relevant ways. That is, devices that could make a person faster, better or stronger. For example, bionic legs could allow a person to run at higher speeds and avoid the fatigue that limits organic legs. As another example, a bionic arm coupled with a bionic eye could allow a person incredible accuracy and speed in pitching. While such augmentations could make for interesting sporting events, they would seem to be clearly unethical when used in competition against unaugmented athletes. To use the obvious analogy, just as it would be unfair for a person to use a motorcycle in a 5K foot race, it would be unfair for a person to use bionic legs that are better than organic legs. There could, of course, be augmented sports competitions—these might even be very popular in the future.

Even if the devices did not allow for superior performance, it is worth considering that they might be banned from competition for other reasons. For example, even if someone’s powered legs only allowed them a slow jog in a 5K, this would be analogous to using a mobility scooter in such a race—though it would be slow, the competitor is not moving under her own power. Naturally, there should be obvious exceptions for events that are merely a matter of participation, such as charity walks.

Another area of moral concern is the weaponization of bionic devices. When I was in graduate school, I made some of my Ramen noodle money writing for R. Talsorian Games’ Cyberpunk. This science fiction game features implanted weapons and weapon grade cybernetic replacement parts. Fortunately, these weapons do not add a new moral problem since they fall under the existing ethics regarding weaponry, concealed or otherwise. After all, a gun in the hand is still a gun, whether it is held in an organic hand or literally inside a mechanical hand.

One final area of concern is that people will elect to replace healthy organic parts with bionic components either to augment their abilities or out of a psychological desire or need to do so. Science fiction, such as the above-mentioned Cyberpunk, has explored these problems and even come up with a name for the mental illness caused by a person becoming more machine than human: cyberpsyhcosis.

In general, augmenting for improvement seems morally acceptable, if there are no serious side effects (like cyberpsychosis) or other harms. However, it is easy enough to imagine various potential dangers: augmented criminals, the poor being unable to compete with the augmented rich, people being compelled to upgrade to remain competitive, and so on—all fodder for science fiction stories.

As far as people replacing healthy organic parts, that would also seem acceptable as a form of life style choice. This, of course, assumes that the procedures and devices are safe and do not cause health risks. Just as people should be allowed to have tattoos, piercings and such, they should be allowed to biodecorate.

 

 

 

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While I like being a professor, with each passing year I am less likely to recommend this career path. This is not because I fear competition (I am a tenured full professor). It is not because I have turned against my profession to embrace anti-intellectualism or some delusional ideology about “woke” professors. It is not even due to disillusionment. I still believe in education and the value of educators. My real reason is altruism and honesty: I want potential professors to know the truth. I now turn to some reasons why you might not want to become a professor.

First, there is the cost. To be a professor, you will almost always need a terminal degree in the field—typically a Ph.D. You need to start with a bachelor’s degree and college in the United States is more expensive each year. Student debt is at a record high. While a bachelor’s degree is, in general, a great investment, you will need to go on to graduate school.

While graduate school is expensive, many students work as teaching or research assistants. These positions typically for tuition and provide a very modest paycheck.  Since the pay is low and the workload is high, you will at best be in a financial holding pattern for the duration of grad school. After 3-7+ years, you will (if you are persistent and lucky) have that terminal degree.

If you are paying for graduate school, it will be expensive and will add to your debt. You might be able to work a decent job at the same time, but that will probably drag out graduate school.

Regardless of whether you had to pay or not, you will be attempting to start a career after about a decade (or more) in college—so be sure to consider this.

Second, the chances of getting a job are usually not great. While conditions vary, the general trend has been reduced budgets for faculty and increased spending on facilities and administrators. As such, if you are looking for a job in academics, it might be smarter to become an administrator rather than a professor. The salary for administrators is generally better than that of professors, although elite coaches of the prestige sports have the very best salaries.

When I went on the job market in 1993, it was terrible. When I applied for a job, I would get a form letter saying hundreds of people applied and how sorry the search committee was about my not getting an interview. I got my job by chance by being in the right place at the right time. It is thus wise to consider the odds of even getting a job.

Third, universities now often hire people into low-paying adjunct positions which lack benefits and job security.  The average adjunct salary is about $26,500. Starting salaries for professors varies, but are in the $50,000-$77,00 range. This is good, but not as good as what a person with an advanced degree can make outside of academics. Also, it is worth noting that the average salary for someone with just a B.A. is $81,000. By the numbers, if you go for a professorship, the odds are that you will be worse off financially than if you just stuck with a B.A. and went to work. That said, most of us do not become professors for money.

Fourth, the workload of professors is higher than most people think. While administrative, teaching and research loads vary, professors work about 61 hours per week and work on weekends (typically grading, class prep and research).  Thanks to budget cuts and increased enrollment, class sizes have tended to increase or remain high. For example, I typically have 35+ students per classes, with most of my classes being “writing intensive.”

People still tell me that they are envious that professors like me get summers off; the envy deceases when I tell them that this is unpaid “vacation.”. During this off time, a professor is still doing research and class preparation. And administrators seem to struggle with the idea that off-contract faculty are not getting paid, so I and others are still called to do unpaid work in the summer. For example, I am on an AI committee this summer along with other unpaid faculty.

Fifth, the trend at universities is that faculty are expected to do uncompensated administrative work on top of their academic duties (research, teaching, advising, etc.). As one extreme example, one semester I was teaching four classes, advising, writing a book, directing the seven-year program review, completing all the assessment tasks, serving as the philosophy & religion facilitator and serving on nine committees. 

Sixth, while professors were once well-respected, that respect has faded. Some of this is due to politicization of education. Those seeking to cut budgets to lower taxes, to transform education into a for-profit industry, and to break education unions have done an able job demonizing the profession and academics. To be fair and balanced, we professors have dropped the ball by failing to  make the case for our profession in the public arena.

Seventh, while every generation claims that the newer generations are worse, many students now see education as a means to the end of getting a job. Given the economy that our political and financial elites have crafted, this is a sensible and pragmatic approach. However, it has also translated into less student interest. The new model of education, crafted by state legislators, administrators and the business folks is to train the job fillers for the job creators. The current phrase is to make the students “workforce ready” and many universities are going all in on AI.

Finally, the general trend in politics has been one of increased hostility to education, with it being seen as a political battleground and another area for the rich to make profits. It seems likely that higher education will get worse.

But to be fair and balanced, a career as a professor can be a better choice than the alternatives, depending on what you value and what you expect from life. Even today, when people ask me if I would become a professor, I still say “yes.”

 

 

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For those not familiar with the term, to catcall is to whistle, shout or make a comment of a sexual nature to a person passing by. In general, the term is used when the person being harassed is a woman, but men can also be subject to such harassment.

Back in 2014, a video documenting a woman’s 10 hours of being catcalled as she walked New York City, garnered considerable attention. In between 2014 and today there was the #MeToo movement and some pushback against the patriarchy. With the triumph of Trump, the patriarchy of idiots pushed back hard, and I almost expect a presidential medal of misogyny to be awarded at some point. But there is the question of why some men catcall.

 Some men seem to think they have a right to catcall. As one man put it back in 2014, “if you have a beautiful body, why can’t I say something?” This view has two parts. The first (“you have a beautiful body”) seems to suggest that the woman is responsible for the response because of her beautiful body. It is reasonable to accept that beauty, be it in a person or painting, can evoke a response from a viewer. The problem is that a catcall is not a proper response to beauty and certainly not a proper response to a person. Also, while a woman’s appearance might cause a reaction, the verbal response chosen by the man (or boy) is his responsibility.

The second part (“why can’t I say something?”) suggests a presumptive right to catcall. This seems to assume the burden of proving that men should not catcall rests on women and it should be assumed that a man has such a right. While the moral right to free speech does entail than men have a right to express their views, there is also the matter of whether it is right to engage in such catcalling. I would argue that it does not on the grounds that the harm done to women by catcalling outweighs the harm that would be done to men if they did not catcall. While I am wary of laws that infringe on free expression, men should not (in the moral sense) behave this way.

This question also shows a sense of entitlement—that the man seeing the woman as beautiful entitles him to harass her. This seems similar to believing that seeing someone as unattractive warrants saying derogatory things about them. Again, while people do have freedom of expression, there are things that are unethical to express.

Some men also claim that the way a woman dresses warrants their behavior. As one young man said back in 2014, “If a girl comes out in tight leggings, and you can see something back there… I’m saying something.” This is just an expression of the horrible view that a woman invites or deserves the actions of men by her choice of clothing. This is best known as a “defense” for rape—the idea that the woman was “asking for it” because she was dressed in provocative clothing. However, a woman’s mode of dress does not justify her being catcalled or attacked. After all, if a man was wearing an expensive Rolex watch and was robbed, it would not be said that he was provocative or was “asking for it” by displaying such an expensive timepiece. Or if a corporation has beautiful databases of information, few would argue that it was asking to be hacked. Naturally, it might be a bad idea to dress a certain way or wear an expensive watch when going certain places, but this does not justify catcalling or robbery.

There has been some speculation that catcalling, like everything else, is the result of natural selection. One might say that if the theory of evolution is correct and human behavior is determined (rather than free), then this could be be true. This is because all human behavior would be the result of such selection and determining factors. In this case, one cannot really say that the behavior would be wrong, at least if something being immoral requires that the person engaging in the behavior could do otherwise. If a person cannot do otherwise, placing blame or praise on the person would be pointless—like praising or blaming water for boiling at a certain temperature and pressure. Looking at it another way, it might be useful to consider the alleged evolutionary forces that might lead to the behavior.

One possible “just so” story is that males would call out to passing females as a form of mating display (like how birds display for each other). Some of the females would respond positively and thus the catcalling genes would be passed on to future generations of men who would in turn catcall women to attract a mate.

One reason to accept this view is that some forms of what could be seen as catcalling do seem to work. Having been on college campuses for decades, I have seen a vast amount of catcalling in various forms. Some women respond by ignoring it, some respond with hostility, and some respond positively. While the positive response rate seems low, it is a low effort “fishing trip” and hence the cost to the male is rather small. Like fishing, a person might cast hundreds of times to catch a single fish.

One reason to reject this view is that many of the guys who use it will obviously never get a positive response. However, they might think they will—they are casting away like mad, not realizing it will never work. After all, they might have seen it work for other guys and think they have a chance.

Moving away from evolution, one stock explanation for catcalling is that men do it as an expression of power over women. A man might be an unfit, ugly, overweight, graceless, unemployed slob but he can make a fit, beautiful, intelligent and successful woman feel afraid and awful by screeching at her about her body. Of course, catcalling is not limited to such men, though the power motive would still seem to hold. This is morally reprehensible because of the harm it does to women. Even if the woman is not afraid of the man, having to hear such things is unpleasant. While I am a man, I do understand what it is like to have stupid and hateful remarks yelled at me. When I was young and running was not as accepted as it is now, it was rare for me to go for a run without someone saying something stupid or hateful to me. Or throwing things. Being a reasonably large male, I did not feel afraid (most of those yelling did so from the safety of passing automobiles). However, such remarks did bother me—much in the way that being bitten by mosquitoes bothers me. The harassment made running less pleasant. As such, I have sympathy for women who are catcalled, especially since the harassment would be far worse for them since they need to worry that the catcaller might attack them.

In my youth, I was even “catcalled” by women—but I am sure it was not the same sort of experience that women face when catcalled by men. After all, the women who have catcalled me are probably just kidding (perhaps even being ironic) and, even if they are not, they almost certainly harbored no hostile intentions and presented no real threat. As an example, when a young woman yelled “nice ass” from her SUV as I ran through the FSU campus was a weird sort of compliment rather than a threat. Though it was still weird.  In contrast, when men engage in such behavior it seems overtly predatory and threatening. So, we men should refrain from catcalling women. I have mixed feeling about women praising my butt while I run, but honesty compels me to admit that part of my aging brain (and butt) would welcome it. Which is probably wrong.

 

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Teenagers are stereotyped as poor decision makers who engage in risky behavior. These stereotypes are often explained in terms of the teenage brain (or mind) being immature and lacking the reasoning abilities of adults. Obviously, adults often engage in poor decision-making and risky behavior.

But research shows that teenagers use basically the same reasoning as adults and they even overestimate risks. So, if the youth use the same reasoning as adults and overestimate risk, then what needs to be determined is the way teenage thinking differs from that of adults.

A plausible hypothesis is that teenagers differ from adults in terms of how they evaluate the value of a reward. The difference is that teenagers place higher value on certain rewards than adults. If this is correct, it makes sense that teenagers are more willing than adults to engage in risk taking. After all, the rationality of taking a risk can be seen as a matter of weighing the (perceived) risk against the (perceived) value of the potential reward. So, a teenager who places higher value on a reward than an adult would be acting rationally (to a degree) if they were willing to take more risks to achieve that reward.

Obviously, adults also vary in their willingness to take risks and some of this is, presumably, a matter of the value adults place on the rewards relative to the risks. So, for example, if Sam values sex more than Sally does, then Sam will (somewhat) rationally accept more risks than Sally. If teenagers generally value rewards more than adults do, then the greater risk-taking behavior of teens relative to adults makes considerable sense.

It might be wondered why teenagers place more value on rewards relative to adults. One theory is based in the workings of the brain. On this view, the sensitivity of the human brain to dopamine and oxytocin peaks during the teenage years. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter that is supposed to trigger the “reward” mechanisms of the brain. Oxytocin is another neurotransmitter, one that is also linked with the “reward” mechanisms as well as social activity. If the teenage brain is more sensitive to these chemicals, then it makes sense that teenagers would place more value on rewards. This is because they do, in fact, get a greater reward than adults.  Or, more accurately, they feel more rewarded. This, of course, might be one and the same thing as perhaps the value of a reward is a matter of how rewarded a person feels. This does raise an interesting subject, namely whether the value of a reward is subjective or objective.

Adults are often critical of what they see as irrationally risky behavior by teens. While my teen years are well behind me, I have looked back on some of my decisions that seemed like good ideas at the time, yet my adult assessment is that they were not. However, I am weighing these decisions in terms of my adult perspective and in terms of the consequences of these actions (or potential consequences I could have faced). I also must consider that the rewards that I felt in the past are now nothing but faded memories. It is a bit like eating a lot of cake. At the time, that sugar rush and taste are rewarding, and it might seem like a good idea at the time. But once the sugar rush gives way to the sugar crash and the cake, as my mother would say, “went right to the hips”, then the assessment might be different. The food analogy is especially apt: as you might well recall from your own youth, candy and other junk food tasted so good then. Now it imostly just tastes like junk. This also raises an interesting subject worthy of additional exploration, namely the assessment of value over time.

Going back to the cake, eating the whole thing was enjoyable and seemed like a great idea at the time. Yes, I have eaten an entire cake. With ice cream.  But, in my defense, I used to run 95-100 miles per week. Looking back from the perspective of my older self, that seems to have been a bad idea, and I certainly would not do that (or enjoy it) today. But does this change of perspective show that it was a poor choice at the time? I am tempted to think that, at the time, it was a good choice for the kid I was. But my adult self now judges my kid self harshly and perhaps unfairly. After all, there does seem to be relativity to value and it seems mere prejudice to say that my current evaluation should be taken as being better than the evaluations of my past self. That is, what would be a bad decision today might have been a good one then. Using the cake example, cake tasted so good back in the day. Now, thanks to the cruel hand of time, cake does not taste nearly as good.

 

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