Author: Michael LaBossiere

 

Joining a profession can complicate a person’s ethical situation. For example, lawyers are obligated to defend their clients even if their client is a moral monster. In the case of health care workers, moral complications can arise when they are expected to perform medical procedures they oppose on moral or religious grounds. They can also arise when they are asked to treat a patient when they have an objection to treating patients of that type, such as a transgender person or a CEO. There is the ethical issue of whether a health care worker has the right to refuse to perform a procedure or treat a patient based on these religious or moral objections.

Some might assume that health care workers have no moral right to refuse services, especially if they are thinking of procedures they find morally acceptable. For example, a pro-choice person is likely to think that a health care worker should not deny a patient an abortion on moral or religious grounds. But this assumption would be hasty. Entering a profession does not entail that a person automatically surrenders their moral rights or conscience. To think otherwise would be to embrace the discredited notion that “just following orders” or just doing one’s job provides a moral excuse. As health care workers are morally accountable for their actions, they also retain the moral agency and freedom needed to provide the foundation for that accountability. Those who support the moral right of refusal will find this appealing, but they must remember that this moral coin has another side.

Entering a profession, especially in health care, comes with moral and professional responsibilities. These responsibilities can, like all responsibilities, justly impose burdens and obligations. For example, doctors are not permitted to immediately abandon patients they dislike or because they want to move on right now to a better paying position. The ethics of a health worker refusing to perform a procedure based on their moral or religious views requires that each procedure be reviewed to determine whether it is one that a health care worker can justly refuse or one that is a justly imposed burden.

To illustrate, consider a state employed doctor asked to keep prisoners conscious and alive during torture. Most doctors would have moral objections to this and there is the question of whether this falls within the moral expectations of their profession. On the face of it, since the purpose of the medical profession is to heal and alleviate suffering, this is not something that a doctor is obligated to do. In fact, the ethics of the profession would dictate against it.

Now, imagine a health care worker who has sincere religious or moral beliefs that when a person can no longer sustain their life on their own, they must be released to God. The worker refuses to engage in procedures that violate their principles, such as keeping a patient on life support. While this could be a sincerely held belief, it seems to run counter to the ethics of the profession. As such, such a health care worker would seem to not have the right to refuse such services.

One could even imagine extreme cases as there is no requirement to prove that a sincerely held religious belief is true, one must only be convincing in one’s (alleged) sincerity. For example, imagine a health care worker who has a sincere religious belief that a patient must prove themselves worthy in the eyes of God by surviving with only the most basic care; anything beyond that is an affront to God’s will. The patient will survive if God wills it and humans should not interfere. Such views would not be accepted as justifying their actions and they should seek another profession if they cannot do their jobs.

Turning back to services like abortion and gender transition, the issue would be whether these are like asking a medical worker to participate in torture or expecting a medical worker to provide normal medical services. Those who oppose abortion will make the moral argument that performing abortion is as bad (or worse) than abetting torture. The pro-choice will contend it is a medical procedure.

In the case of gender transition, there are no moral appeal to concerns about killing. Rather, a person must appeal to the view that people should not modify their sex and should accept what they were born with. This seems to be more like my imaginary case of a health care worker who believes that people must prove themselves worthy in the eyes of God than like the torture case, especially if someone takes the view that God wants people to stick with their original sex. That said, it could be argued that such modifications are wrong in the same way that non-restorative cosmetic surgery is wrong as both aim to allow a person to be who they want to be. I do not, however, want to claim that the transitional process is as trivial as the gender affirming procedure of getting breast implants.

While I do not think I will change minds, the matter of moral objections needs due consideration. It is easy to simply embrace one’s views without considering the possibility of error.

 

AI generated works have already disrupted the realm of art. As noted in the previous essay, this is a big problem for content art (art whose value is derived from what it is or how it can be used). However, I will show that named art might enjoy some safety from AI incursions.

Named art, at least in my (mis)usage, is a work whose value arises primarily from the name and fame of its creator. Historical examples include Picasso, van Gogh, and Rembrandt. An anecdote illustrates the key feature of named art.

Some years ago, I attended an art show and sale at Florida State University with a friend. She pointed to a small pencil sketch of a bird that was priced at $1500. She then pointed to a nearby sketch of equivalent quality that was $250. Since I had taught aesthetics for years, she asked me what justified the difference. After all, the sketches were about the same size, in the same medium, in the same realistic style and were executed with similar skill. My response was to point to the names: one artist was better known than the other. If a clever rogue managed to switch the names and prices on the works, the purchasers would probably convince themselves they were worth the price—because of the names. The nature of named art can also be shown by the following discussion.

Imagine, if you will, that an amazing painting is found in an attic that might be a lost van Gogh. If the value of works of art was based on the work itself, we would not need to know who created it to know its worth. But the value of the might-be-Gogh depends on whether it can be verified as a real-Gogh. It is easy to imagine the experts first confirm it is genuine (making it worth millions), then other experts confirm it was painted by Rick von Gogh (making it worth little), and then later experts re-affirm that it is genuine van Gogh (making it worth millions again). While nothing about the work has changed, its value would have fluctuated dramatically, because what gives it value is the creator and not the qualities of the work as art. That is, a van Gogh is not worth millions because the painting is thousands of times better than a lesser work, but because it was created by van Gogh and the art economy has said that it is worth that much. As such, the value of named art is not a function of the aesthetic value of the work, but of the name value of the work. This feature provides the realm of named art with an amazing defense against the incursion of AI.

 While an AI might be able to crank out masterpieces in a style indistinguishable from van Gogh, the AI can never be Vincent van Gogh. Named art gets its value from who created it rather than from what it is. So works created by an AI in the style of van Gogh will not be of value to those who only want the works of van Gogh. This can be generalized: those looking for works created by Artist X will not be interested in buying AI created art; they want works created by X. As such, if people value works because of the creator, named art will be safe from the incursion of AI. But one might wonder about AI created forgeries.

While I expect that AI will be used to forge works, successful deceit would not disprove my claim about named art being safe from AI incursion. The purchaser is still buying the work because they think it is by a specific artist; they are just being deceived. This is not to deny that AI forgeries will not be a problem, just that this would be a forgery problem and not an AI replacing artists problem (other than stealing the job of forgers, of course).

It might be objected that named art will not be safe from AI art because AI systems can crank out works at an alarming rate and, presumably, low cost. While this does mean that content artists are in danger from AI, it does not impact the “named” artists. After all, the fact that millions of human artists have produced millions of drawings and paintings does not lower the value of a Monet or Dali; the value placed on such paintings is independent of the works of these “lesser” artists. The same should hold true of AI art: even if one could click a button and get 100,000 original images ready to be painted onto canvas by a robot, the sale price of the Mona Lisa would not be diminished.

If AI systems become advanced enough, they might themselves become “named” artists with collectors wanting a work by Vincent van Robogogh because it was created by Robogogh. But that is a matter for the future.

 

This essay changes the focus from defining art to the economics of art. This discussion requires making a broad and rough distinction between two classes of art and creators. The first class of art is called “named art.” This is art whose value derives predominantly from the name and fame of its creator. Works by Picasso, van Gogh, Rembrandt and the like fall into this category. Artists who are enjoying a fleeting fame also fall into this category, at least so long as their name is what matters.  This is not to deny that such art can have great and wonderful qualities of its own; but the defining feature is the creator rather than the content.

The second class of art can be called “content art.” This is art whose value derives predominantly from what it is as opposed to who created it. For example, a restaurant owner who needs to put up some low-price original art is not buying it because it is, for example, a “LaBossiere” but because she needs something on the walls. As another example, a podcaster who wants a music style for her podcasts choses it because she needs low-cost music of a certain style. As a third example, an indie game designer who needs illustrations is looking for low-cost images that match the style and fit the adventure. They might be interested in but cannot afford works by some famous illustrator. This essay will be about this second class of art, although the term “art” is being used as a convenience rather than theoretically.

Since the worth of content art is the content, of the two types it is most impacted by AI. As those purchasing content art are not focused on who created it but on getting the content they want, they will be more amenable to using AI products than those seeking name art. Some people do refuse to buy AI art for various reasons, such as wanting to support human artists. If the objective of the purchaser is to get content (such as upbeat background music for a podcast or fish themed paintings for a restaurant), then AI created work is in competition with human created work for their money. This competition would be in the pragmatic rather than theoretical realm: the pragmatic purchaser is not worried about theoretical concerns about the true definition of “art”, they need content not theory.

Because this is a pragmatic competition, the main concerns would also be pragmatic. These would include the quality of the work, its relevance to the goal, the time needed to create the work, the cost and so on. As such, if an AI could create works that would be good enough in a timely manner and at a competitive price, then AI work would win the competition. For example, if I am writing a D&D adventure and want to include some original images rather than reusing stock illustrations, it could make sense to use images generated by Midjourney rather than trying to get a human artist who would do the work within my budget and on time. On a larger scale, companies such as Amazon and Spotify would presumably prefer to generate AI works if doing so would net them more profits.

While some think that the creation of art is something special, the automation of creation is analogous to automation in other fields. That is, if a machine can do the job almost as well (or better) for less cost, then it makes economic sense to replace the human with a machine. This applies whether the human is painting landscapes or making widgets. As with other cases of automation, there would probably still be a place for some humans. For example, an AI might be guided by a human to create works with far greater efficiency than the works could be created by human artists, but with better quality than works created solely by a machine. While replacing human workers with machines raises various moral concerns, there is nothing new or special from an ethical standpoint about replacing human artists and the usual moral discussions about robots taking jobs would apply. But I will note one distinction and then return to pragmatism.

When it comes to art, people do like the idea of the human touch. That is, they want something individual and hand-crafted rather than mass produced. This is distinct from wanting a work by a specific artist in that what matters is that a human made it, not that a specific artist made it. I will address wanting works by specific artists in the next essay.

This does occur in other areas—for example, some people prefer hand-made furniture or clothing over the mass-produced stuff. But, as would be expected, it is especially the case in art. This is shown by the fact that people still buy hand-made works over mass-produced prints, statues and such. This is one area in which an AI cannot outcompete a human: an AI cannot, by definition, create human made art (though we should expect AI forgeries). As long as people want human-made works, there will still be an economic niche for it (perhaps in a wat analogous to “native art”). It is easy to imagine a future in which self-aware AIs collect such work; perhaps to be ironic. Now, back to the pragmatics.

While billions are being spent on AIs, they are still lagging behind humans in some areas of creativity. For now. This will allow people to adapt or respond, should there be the will and ability to do so. There might even be some types or degree of quality of art that will remain beyond the limits of our technology. For example, AI might not be able to create masterpieces of literature or film. Then again, the technology might eventually be able to exceed human genius and do so in a cost-effective way. If so, then the creation of art by humans would be as economically viable as making horse-drawn buggies is today: a tiny niche. As with other cases of automation, this would be a loss for the creators, but perhaps a gain for the consumers. Unless, of course, we lose something intangible yet valuable when we surrender ever more to the machines.

 

While it is reasonable to consider the qualities of the creator when determining whether a work is art, it also makes sense to consider only the qualities of the work. On this approach, what makes a work art are the relevant qualities of that work, whatever these qualities might me. It also makes sense to consider that the effect these qualities on the audience could play a role in determining whether a work is art. For example, David Hume’s somewhat confusing theory of beauty seems to define beauty in terms of how the qualities of an object affect the audience.

Other thinkers, such as Plato, take beauty to be an objective feature of reality. Defining art in terms of objective beauty could entail that the qualities of the work determine whether it is art, assuming art is defined in terms of possessing the right sort of beauty. Given all the possibilities, it is fortunate that this essay does not require a theory of what qualities make a work art. All I need is the hypothesis, for the sake of discussion, that something being art is a matter of the qualities of the work—whatever they might be.

One practical reason to focus on the work rather than the artist (or other factors) is there can be cases where we don’t know about the artist or the context of the work. For example, the creators of many ancient works of art are unknown and judging whether these works of art would seem to require judging the work itself. Alternatively, one could take the view that no matter how beautiful a work is, if we do not know about the creator, we cannot say whether the work is art.  But this can be countered, at least in the case of works that predate AI.  We can assume the creators were human and much is known about humans that can be applied in sorting out whether the work is art.

A science fiction counter to this counter is to imagine alien works found by xenoarcheologists on other worlds. It We might know nothing about the creators of such works and there would be two possibilities. One is that there is no way to judge whether the work is art. The other is to accept that the work can be judged on its own, keeping in mind that the assessment could be mistaken.  

Another way to counter this is to consider the case of AI created works in the context of an aesthetic version of the Turing test. The classic Turing test involves two humans and a computer. One human communicates with the other human and the computer via text with the goal of trying to figure out which is human, and which is the computer. If the computer can pass as human long enough, it is said to have passed the Turing test. An aesthetic Turing test would also involve two humans and one computer. In this case, the human artist and the art computer would each create a work (or works), such as music, a sculpture or a drawing. The test must be set up so that it is not obvious who is who. For example, using a human artist whose style is well known, and a bad AI image generating program would not be a proper test. Matching a skilled, but obscure, human artist against a capable AI would be a fair test.

 After the works are created, the human judge would then attempt to discern which work was created by a human and which was created by AI. The judge would also be tasked with deciding whether each work is art. In this case, the judge knows nothing about the creator of a work and must judge the work based on the work itself. While it is tempting to think that a judge will easily tell a human work from AI, this would be a mistake. AI generated art can be quite sophisticated and can even be programmed to include the sort of “errors” that humans make when creating works. If the AI can pass the test, it would seem to be as much an artist as the human. If the work of the human is art, then the work of the AI that passes the test would thus also seem to be art.

As a side note, I have recently run into the problem of my drawings being mistaken for AI work. Since 2013 I have done birthday drawings for friends, posting the drawing on Facebook. Prior to the advent of AI image generators, people knew that I had created the work, and they (mistakenly) deemed it art. Now that AI image generators are good at reproducing photographs in styles that look hand drawn, people often think I am just posting an AI image of them. I am thus failing my own test. I will write more on this in a future essay but back to the topic at hand.

If whether a work is art depends on the qualities of the artist, then a judge who could not tell who created the works in the test would not be able to say which (if any) work was art.  Now, imagine that an AI controlled robot created a brushstroke-by-brushstroke identical painting as the human.  A judge could not tell which was created by a human and the judge must rule that neither work is art. However, this is an absurd result. One could also imagine a joke being played on the judge. After their judgment, they are told that painting A is by the human and B is by the computer and then they are asked to judge which is art again. After they reach their verdict, they are informed that the reverse was true and asked to judge again. This does show a problem with the view that whether something is art depends on the qualities of the creator. It seems to make more sense to make this depend on the qualities of the work

But there is a way to argue against this view using an analogy to a perfect counterfeit of a $100 bill. While the perfect counterfeit would be identical to the “real” money and utterly indistinguishable to all observations, it would still be a counterfeit because of its origin. Being legitimate currency is not a matter of the qualities of the money, but how the money is created and issued. The same, it could be argued, also applies to art. On this view a work created in the wrong way would not be art, even though it could be identical to a “real” work of art. But just as the perfect counterfeit would seem to destroy the value of the real bill (if one is known to be fake, but they cannot be told apart, then neither should be accepted) the “fake art” would also seem to destroy the art status of the “real art.” This would be odd but could be accepted by those who think that art, like money, is a social construct. But suppose one accepts that being art is a matter of the qualities of the work.

If it is the qualities of a work that makes a work art and AI can create works with those qualities, then the works would be art. If an AI cannot create works with those qualities, then the work of an AI would not be art.

As a philosopher, my discussions of art and AI tend to be on meta-aesthetic topics, such as trying to define “art” or arguing about whether an AI can create true art. But there are pragmatic concerns about AI taking jobs from artists and changing the field of art.  

When trying to sort out whether AI created images are art, one problem is that there is no necessary and sufficient definition of “art” that allows for a decisive answer. At this time, the question can only be answered within the context whatever theory of art you might favor. Being a work of art is like being a sin in that whether something is a sin is a matter of whether it is a sin in this or that religion. This is distinct from the question of whether it truly is a sin. Answering that would require determining which religion is right (and it might be none, so there might be no sin). So, no one can answer whether AI art is art until we know which, if any, theory of art has it right (if any). That said, it is possible to muddle about with what we must work with now.

One broad distinction between theories relevant to AI art is between theories focusing on the work and theories focusing on the creator. The first approach involves art requiring certain properties in the work for it to be art. The second approach is that the work be created in a certain way by a certain sort of being for it to be art. I will begin by looking at the creator focused approach.

In many theories of art, the nature of the creator is essential to distinguishing art from non-art. One example is Leo Tolstoy’s theory of art. As he sees it, the creation of art requires two steps. First, the creator must evoke in themselves a feeling they have once experienced. Second, by various external means (movement, colors, sounds, words, etc.) the creator must transmit that feeling to others so they can be infected by them. While there is more to the theory, such as ruling out directly causing feelings (like punching someone in anger that makes them angry in turn), this is the key to determining whether AI generated works can be art. Given Tolstoy’s theory, if an AI cannot feel an emotion, then it cannot, by definition, create art. It cannot evoke a feeling it has experienced, nor can it infect others with that feeling, since it has none. However, if an AI could feel emotion, then it could create art under Tolstoy’s definition. While the publicly available AI systems can appear to feel, there is yet a lack of adequate evidence that they do feel. But this could change.

While the focus of research is on artificial intelligence, there is also interest in artificial emotions, or at least the appearance of emotions. In the context of Tolstoy’s theory, the question would be whether it feels emotion or merely appears to feel. Interestingly, the same question also arises for human artists and in philosophy this is called the problem of other minds. This is the problem of determining whether other beings think or feel.

Tests already exist for discerning intelligence, such as Descartes’ language test and the more famous Turing Test. While it might be objected that a being could pass these tests by faking intelligence, the obvious reply is that faking intelligence so skillfully would seem to require intelligence. Or at least something functionally equivalent. To use an analogy, if someone could “fake” successfully repairing vehicles over and over, it would be odd to say that they were faking. In what way would their fakery differ from having skill if they could consistently make the repairs? The same would apply to intelligence. As such, theories of art that based on intelligence being an essential quality for being an artist (rather than emotion) would allow for a test to determine whether an AI could produce art.

Testing for real emotions is more challenging than testing for intelligence because the appearance of emotions can be faked by using an understanding of emotions. There are humans who do this. Some are actors and others are sociopaths. Some are both. So, testing for emotion (as opposed to testing for responses) is challenging and a capable enough agent could create the appearance of emotions without feeling them. Because of this, if Tolstoy’s theory or other emotional based theory is used to define art, then it seems impossible to know whether a work created by an AI would be art. In fact, it is worse than that.

Since the problem of other minds applies to humans, any theory of art that requires knowing what the artist felt (or thought) leaves us forever guessing—it is impossible to know what the artist was feeling or feeling at all. If we decide to take a practical approach and guess about what an artist might have been feeling and whether this is what the work is conveying, this will make it easier to accept AI created works as art. After all, a capable AI could create a work and a plausible emotional backstory for the creation of the work.

Critics of Tolstoy have pointed out that artists can create works that seem to be art without meeting his requirements in that an artist might have felt a different emotion from what the work seems to convey. For example, a depressed and suicidal musician might write a happy and upbeat song affirming the joy of life. Or the artist might have created the work without being driven by a particular emotion they sought to infect others with. Because of these and many other reasons, Tolstoy’s theory obviously does not give us the theory we need to answer the question of whether AI generated works can be art. That said, he does provide an excellent starting point for a general theory of AI and art in the context of defining art in terms of the artist. While the devil lies in the details, any artist focused theory of art can be addressed in the following manner.

If an AI can have the qualities an artist must have to create art, then an AI could create art. The challenge is sorting out what these qualities must be and determining if an AI has or even can have them. If an AI cannot have the qualities an artist must have to create art, then it cannot be an artist and cannot create art. As such, there is a straightforward template for applying artist focused theories of art to AI works. But, as noted above, this just allows us to know what the theory says about the work. The question will remain as to whether the theory is correct. In the next essay I will look at work focused approaches to theories of art.

 

While Florida Republicans falsely proclaim that Florida is a free state, the legislature and governor are hard at work to limit freedoms they dislike. One costly example of this is a potential $15.6 million contract with Maryland based Trinity Education Group to create a centralized system for reviewing and objecting to instructional materials and books in Florida’s public schools. In higher education, where I work, the state is engaged in an ongoing review of course syllabi and books to ensure conformity with the official ideology and indoctrination goals set by the legislature.

As of this writing, Florida has redistributed $3 million in taxpayer money to Trinity. Given that Florida’s teacher pay is last in the United States, a strong case could be made that the money should have gone to Florida teachers rather than to enrich a Maryland CEO. Florida schools, like most American schools, are also chronically underfunded and if the goal is to improve education, then it would make more sense to spend the money addressing this issue. Given these facts, it might be wondered what Florida is supposed to get in return for these millions and why this is so critical that it must be funded at the expense of educating children.

As might be guessed, this spending is part of Florida’s war on critical race theory, DEI, and woke. There are two reasons being presented as to why this system is necessary. The first is the claim by Sydney Booker that, “The Department firmly believes that parents have the fundamental right to know what materials their child is accessing at school.”  This view is eminently reasonable, and it is difficult to imagine that anyone would object to such a right. But the obvious question is why the state would need to enrich a Maryland CEO for parents to know what school materials their kid is accessing. While it would take a tiny bit of effort, a parent could ask their kid what they are accessing, they can look at the syllabi, they can talk to teachers, and they could take a few minutes to look through the catalog of the school library. That is, there are free and easy ways for a parent to quickly find out what material their kid is accessing. So why is this system needed? This takes us to the second reason.

According to the state, this multimillion-dollar system will ensure the public can access the same information, since “districts are currently making the materials accessible in various formats and platforms.” While this is superficially appealing, a moment’s reflection destroys this justification. Unless a parent has numerous children spread over several school districts, they will only need information from one school district. As such, they only need to be concerned with the one format and one platform used by that district. This reasoning is like justifying spending millions on a statewide database listing what classes each student is taking so that parents can check to see what classes their kids are taking. This would be absurd, as is the wasteful plan for the central system of course materials. This leads to the question of the system’s actual purpose.

As noted above, its first purpose is to fulfil a central goal of Republican education strategy: redistribute public education funds into CEO compensation and private profit.  The second goal, which is obvious from the “justification” given for a centralized system, is to provide a centralized system to enable a few actors to challenge books across the state. Without a centralized system, a person interested in censoring school material would need to put in more effort to determine what every school might be offering as opposed to a parent’s legitimate concern with what their kid’s school is offering. This system is clearly designed to facilitate people like Friedman (a man responsible over 30% of Florida’s book challenges) who have the goal of banningbooks that do match their value system. The state is thus sending up to $15.6 million to a Maryland corporation to make it easier for a few people in Florida to ban books and course material. Whatever one’s political ideology, this should seem like a terrible waste of taxpayer money.

If you are wondering how this got approved, the answer seems to be duplicity. The department told an administrative law judge that the rules implementing the school library statute wouldn’t have regulatory costs. The state then entered the contract with Trinity, which would seem to prove that there were regulatory costs. In response to questions about this, the department replied with a clever bit of sophism: “A statute that results in costs to either the district or to the state is not synonymous with regulatory costs of a rule.” This is like someone getting you to go to a restaurant by saying “it’s free to go with me” and then being hit with a huge bill that is defended by the person saying, “it being free to go with me is not synonymous with getting a free lunch.” You would be right in thinking they had misled you.

In closing, this system sems to serve three awful purposes. The first is to deplete education funding. The second is to redistribute public funds to a Maryland CEO. It is not even enriching one of our own Florida CEOs.  The third is to create a system to make censorship easier for a very few people. But all this lines up with the Republican approach to education and it is working as intended.

The rap musician Sean “Diddy” Combs has been accused of kidnapping, drugging and coercing women into sexual activities. This potentially puts him in the company of such men as Kevin Spacey and Harvey Weinstein. These cases, and others like them, raise the question of the aesthetic impact of these misdeeds on their works. This is an old topic and philosophers, since at least Plato, have discussed the effect of the ethics of the artist one the aesthetics of their works. However, it is still worth discussing and is obviously relevant today. I will begin by getting some easy matters out of the way.

One concern that is more a matter of psychology than philosophy is the impact of the artist’s behavior on the audience. The experience of the audience can be affected by their beliefs about the ethics of the artist. It is possible that an audience member will find their aesthetic experience diminished or even destroyed by these beliefs. For example, someone listening to Combs’ music might think of the allegations and be unable to enjoy the work. It is also possible that some will be unaffected by this. For example, someone who enjoys his music might find this enjoyment undiminished by the allegations against Combs.

While considerations of how people might react are relevant to the aesthetic issues, they do not settle these issues. For example, how people might react to an artist’s misdeeds does not settle whether the ethics of an artist is relevant to the aesthetic merit of their work. To use an analogy, how fans feel about a professional athlete’s moral misdeeds does not settle the issue about whether they are a skilled athlete.

Another area of concern is the ethics of supporting an artist who has engaged in misdeeds. This is part of the broader issue of whether one should support anyone who has engaged in moral misdeeds. As such, it is a moral issue rather than a specifically aesthetic issue.

While a customer has every right to patronize whoever they wish to give their money, what is under consideration is whether one should support an artist one thinks is a bad person. On the one hand, a moral case can be made that by supporting such an artist by buying their work, purchasing tickets to their movies or subscribing to a service that streams their shows one is supporting their misdeeds. Naturally, as the degree of financial support diminishes, so does the support of their misdeeds. To illustrate, if I think a painter is evil, but pay them $10,000 for a painting then I am providing more support than a situation in which I think Combs is evil yet keep paying for a music streaming service that he profits from.

It is also worth considering that unless the artist is operating alone the decision not to support their art impacts other people. So, for example, if someone decides to not buy any music by Combs because of what he is accused of doing, this might cost Combs some minute fraction of his income, but it also punishes everyone else who receives money from these sales. While people have every right to make purchasing decisions on ethical grounds, it is also important to consider that the target of their ire might not be the only one impacted.

 It can be argued that supporting an artist one regards as morally bad is not supporting their misdeeds. One is paying for the art and not paying them to commit misdeeds. The purchasing of the art is not an endorsement of the misdeeds but a financial transaction and what matters are the aspects that are relevant to the transaction. To use an analogy, one does not need to inquire whether a mechanic has engaged in misdeeds that have nothing to do with their job before deciding to use their services or not. One also does not feel obligated to investigate what the mechanic might use the money for. What matters is the quality and cost of the work. Naturally, a person might prefer a nice person as a mechanic or be upset if the mechanic used the money to pay prostitutes or buy illegal drugs, but that is a matter of preference.

It can be argued that patronizing a bad person who is an artist does support their misdeeds. After all, it is the wealth and power of people like Combs, Spacey and Weinstein that enabled them to get away with their alleged misdeeds for so long. On this view, once a person knows about the misdeeds, they would be morally accountable for continuing to provide support for the artist. This is analogous to patronizing any business that is accused of doing terrible things. On the one hand, one can claim to be just buying their product or service without endorsing their misdeeds. On the other hand, without customers they would be far less able to do their misdeeds.

 

By J R – https://www.flickr.com/photos/jmrosenfeld/3639249316, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=37298033

Some of the surplus of military equipment leftover from America’s foreign adventures were given to American police forces. While this might have seemed to be a good idea at the time, it did lead to infamous images of war ready police squaring off against unarmed civilians. This is the sort of image one would expect in a dictatorship but are not supposed to see in a democracy.

This images helped start a debate about the appropriateness of police equipment, methods and operations. The Obama regime responded by putting some restrictions on the military hardware that could be transferred to the police, although many of the restrictions were on gear that the police had, in general, never requested. In his first term, Trump decided to lift the Obama ban and  then attorney general Jeff Sessions touted this as a rational response to crime and social ills. As Sessions sees it, “(W)e are fighting a multi-front battle: an increase in violent crime, a rise in vicious gangs, an opioid epidemic, threats from terrorism, combined with a culture in which family and discipline seem to be eroding further and a disturbing disrespect for the rule of law.” Perhaps Sessions believes that arming the police with tanks and grenade launchers will help improve family stability and shore up discipline. With Trump’s promise to forcibly deport millions of migrants, we are likely to see a militarized police forcer operating alongside the actual military.

While it might be tempting to dismiss Trump and Session having engaged in a mix of macho swagger and the view that bigger guns solve social ills, there is a real issue about what is appropriate equipment for the police.

The key factor in determining the appropriate armaments for police is the role that the police are supposed to play in society. In a democratic state aimed at the good of the people (the classic Lockean state) the role of the police is to protect and serve the people. On this view, the police do need armaments suitable to combat domestic threats to life, liberty and property. In general, these threats would usually involve engaging untrained and unarmored civilian opponents equipped with light arms (such as pistols and shotguns). As such, the appropriate weapons for the police would also be light arms and body armor.

Naturally enough, the possibility of unusual circumstances must be kept in mind. Since the United States is awash in guns, the police do face opponents well-armed opponents. The police might have to go up against experienced (or fanatical) opponents, perhaps within a fortified defensive position. They are also sometimes called upon to go up against rioters.  In such cases, the police would justly require riot gear and military grade equipment. However, these should be restricted to specially trained special units, such as SWAT.

It might be objected that the police should be equipped with this sort of equipment, just in case they need it. I certainly see the appeal to this. A rational combat mindset is to be ready for anything and to meet resistance with overwhelming force. But that points to the problem: to the degree the police adopt a combat mindset, they are moving away from being police and towards being soldiers. Given the distinction between the missions, having police operating like soldiers with military equipment is a danger to civil society. Defeating an enemy in war is different from protecting and serving.

There is also the problem that military equipment is more dangerous than standard police weapons. While a pistol can kill, automatic weapons can do much more damage. The police, unlike soldiers, are presumed to be engaging fellow citizens and the objective is supposed to be to use as little force as possible. They are supposed to be policing rather than subjugating.

But the view that the police should serve and protect the good of the people is not the only possible view. As can be seen around the world, some states regard the police as tools of repression and control. These police operate as the military, only with their fellow citizens as enemies. If the police are regarded as tools of the ruling class and exist to maintain their law and order, then a militarized police force makes sense. Militaries serve as an army against the people of other countries, serving the will of their rulers. Same basic role, but different targets.

It could be argued that while this is something practiced by repressive states, it is also suitable for a democratic state. Jeff Sessions characterizes policing as a battle, and one could argue the is right. As Trump likes to say, one might think there are enemies within America that must be defeated in the war on crime. On this view, the police are to engage these enemies in a way analogous to the military engaging a foreign foe and thus it makes sense that they would need military grade equipment. They are a military force serving military objectives. This lines up with the criticism that the police are often an occupying army in poor neighborhoods, but this is regarded as a feature rather than a flaw as that is the function of the police.

While I do think the militarization of the police impacts their behavior (I would be tempted to use a tank if I had one), my main concern is not with what weapons the police have access to, but the attitude and moral philosophy behind how they are armed. That is, my concern is not so much that the police have the weapons of an army, but that they are regarded more as an army to be used against citizens than as protectors of life, liberty and property. As this is being written, the police have been deployed against striking Amazon workers and critics point to this as an example of how the police force serves as domestic army for the rich.

https://dukeroboticsys.com/

Taking the obvious step in done technology, Duke Robotics developed a small armed drone called the Tikad. Israel also developed a sniper drone that it is using in Gaza. These drones differ from earlier armed drones, like the Predator, in that they are small and relatively cheap. As with many other areas of technology, the main innovations are in ease of use and lower cost. This makes the small armed drones more accessible than previous drones, which is both good and bad.

On the positive side, the military and police can deploy more drones and reduce human casualties (at least for the drone users). For example, the police could send a drone in to observe and possibly engage during a hostage situation and not put officers in danger.

On the negative side, the lower cost and ease of use means that armed drones are easier to deploy by terrorists, criminals and oppressive states. The typical terrorist group cannot afford a drone like the Predator and might have difficulty in finding people who can operate and maintain such a complicated aircraft. But smaller armed drones can be operated and serviced by a broader range of people. This is not to say that Duke Robotics should be criticized for doing the obvious as people have been thinking about arming drones since drones were invented.

Inexpensive gun drones do raise the usual concerns associated with remotely operated weapons. The first is the concern that operators of drones can be more aggressive than forces that are physically present and at risk of the consequences of engaging in violence. However, it can also be argued that an operator is less likely to be aggressive because they are not in danger and the literal and metaphorical distance will allow them to respond with more deliberation. For example, a police officer operating a drone might elect to wait longer to confirm that a suspect is pulling a gun than they would if they were present. Then again, they might not as this would be a training and reaction issue with a very practical concern about training officers to delay longer when operating a drone and not delaying too long in person.

A second concern is accountability. A drone allows the operator anonymity and assigning responsibility can be difficult. In the case of the military and police, this can be addressed by having a system of accountability. After all, military and police operators would usually be known to the relevant authorities. That said, drones can be used in ways that are difficult to trace to the operator and this would be true in the case of terrorists. The use of drones would allow terrorists to attack from safety and in an anonymous manner, which are matters of concern.

However, it must be noted that while the first use of a gun armed drone in a terrorist attack would be something new, it would not be significantly different from the use of a planted bomb or other distance weapons. This is because such bombs allow terrorists to kill from a safe distance and make it harder to identify the terrorist. But, just as with bombs, the authorities would be able to investigate the attack and stand some chance of tracing a drone back to the terrorist. Drones are in some ways less worrisome than bombs as a drone can be seen and is limited in how many targets it can engage. In contrast, a bomb can be hidden and can kill many in an instant, without a chance of escape or defense.  A gun drone is also analogous in some ways to a sniper rifle in that it allows engagement at long ranges. However, the drone does afford far more range and safety than even the best sniper rifle.

In the United States, it is currently not legal to arm your drone. While the people have the right to keep and bear arms, this does not extend to operating armed drones. The NRA does not seem interested in fighting for the right to arm drones, but that could changes.

In closing, there are legitimate concerns about cheap and simple gun drones. While they will not be as radical a change as some might predict, they will make it easier and cheaper to engage in violence at a distance and in anonymous killing. As such, they will make ideal weapons for terrorists and oppressive governments. However, they do offer the possibility of reduced human casualties, if used responsibly. In any case, their deployment is inevitable, so the meaningful questions are about how they should be used and how to defend against their misuse. The question about whether they should be used is morally interesting, but pragmatically irrelevant since are being used.

Since the US is experiencing a drone panic as this is being written, I’ll close with a few rational points. First, of course people are seeing drones. As comedians have pointed out, you can buy them at Walmart. Drones are everywhere. Second, people are regularly mistaking planes and even stars for drones. Third, as has been pointed out and as should be obvious, if a foreign power were secretly operating drones in the US, then they would turn the lights off. Fourth, no harm seems to have been done by the drones, so it is a panic over nothing. But it is reasonable to be concerned with what drones are being used for as corporations and the state are not always acting for the public good.

 

Imagine a twenty-sided die (a d20 as it is known to gamers) being rolled. In the ideal the die has a 1 in 20 chance of rolling a 20 (or any number). It is natural to think of the die as being a locus of chance, a random number generator whose roll cannot be predicted. While this is an appealing view of dice, there is a question about what random chance amounts to.

One way to look at the matter is that if a d20 is rolled 20 times, then one of those rolls will be a 20. Obviously enough, this is not true. As any gamer will tell you, the number of 20s rolled while rolling 20 times varies. This can be explained by the fact that dice are imperfect and roll some numbers more than others. There are also the influences of the roller, the surface on which the die lands and so on. As such, a d20 is not a perfect random number generator. But imagine there could be a perfect d20 rolled under perfect conditions. What would occur?

One possibility is that each number would come up within the 20 rolls, albeit at random. As such, every 20 rolls would guarantee a 20 (and only one 20), thus accounting for the 1 in 20 chances of rolling a 20. This seems problematic. There is the obvious question of what would ensure that each of the twenty numbers were rolled once (and only once). Then again, that this would occur is only a little weirder than the idea of chance itself.

But a small number of random events (such as rolling a d20 only twenty times) will deviate from what probability dictates. It is also well-established that as the number of rolls increases, the closer the outcomes will match the expected results. This principle is known as the law of large numbers. As such, getting three 20s or no 20s in a series of 20 rolls would not be surprising. But as the number of rolls increases, the closer the results will be to the expected 1 in 20 outcomes for each number. So, the 1 in 20 odds of getting a 20 with a d20 does not seem to mean that 20 rolls will guarantee one and only one 20, it means that with enough rolls about 1 in 20 of all the rolls will be 20s. This does not say much about how chance works beyond noting that chance seems to play out “correctly” over large numbers.

One way to look at this is that if there were an infinite number of d20 rolls, then 5% of the infinite number of rolls would be 20s. One might wonder what 5% of infinity would be; would it not be infinite as well? Since infinity is such a mess, a more manageable approach would be to use the largest finite number (which presumably has its own problems) and note that 5% of that number of d20 rolls would be 20s.

Another approach would be that the 1 in 20 chance means that if all 1 in 20 chance events were formed into sets of 20, sets could be made from all the events that would have one occurrence each of the 1 in 20 events. Using dice as an example, if all the d20 rolls in the universe were known (perhaps by God) and collected into sets of numbers, they could be dived up into sets of twenty with each number in each set. So, while my 20 rolls would not guarantee a 20, there would be one 20 out of every 20 rolls in the universe. There is still the question of how this would work. One possibility is that random events are not random and this ensures the proper distribution of events such as dice rolls.

It could be claimed that chance is a bare fact, that a perfect d20 rolled in perfect conditions would have a 1 in 20 chance of producing a specific number. On this view, the law of large numbers might fail. If chance were real, it would not be impossible for results to be radically different than predicted. That is, there could be an infinite number of rolls of a perfect d20 with no 20 ever being rolled. One could even imagine that since a 1 can be rolled on any roll, someone could roll an infinite number of consecutive 1s. Intuitively this seems impossible. It is natural to think that in an infinity every possibility must occur (and perhaps do so perfectly in accord with the probability). But this would only be a necessity if chance worked a certain way, perhaps that for every 20 rolls in the universe there must be one of each result. Then again, infinity is a magical number, so perhaps this guarantee is part of the magic.