Category: Aesthetics

Back when Black Lives Mattered, (HBO) Max briefly pulled ‘Gone with the Wind’ from its video library as an indirect response to protests about racism. The movie was later returned with a disclaimer to provide context. This struck a reasonable balance between the aesthetic importance of the work and the moral importance of presenting slavery honestly. The disclaimer also provided context for the film, such as how racism impacted the black actors. Perhaps because of the success of this approach, Max also added a disclaimer to the classic comedy ‘Blazing Saddles’.

This classic comedy-western engages with racism and prominently features racist characters using racist language. But, as the disclaimer noted, it is anti-racist. The racists are the villains. Racism is savagely mocked. As such, it might be wondered why the film required a disclaimer. This seems like putting a disclaimer before ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’ to make it clear that the famously anti-war film is not pro-war.

One concern about putting a disclaimer on a film like ‘Blazing Saddles’ is it could provide ammunition to those saying the “politically correct cancel culture of the left” is out of control. It could be used as “proof” that “the left” is wrong about criticisms of racism in aesthetic works. In reply, the right can create outrage ex nihilo and thus a disclaimer will have no meaningful impact aside from providing a focus of the outrage. That said, the disclaimer might have some impact on those critical enough to check to see if the target of the outrage exists, yet not critical enough to be thorough critics of the outrage.

This might seem a silly concern, but things like a movie disclaimer can  strike “normies” as ridiculous and this can be exploited as part of the radicalization process. The strategy is that an “absurd” response from “the left” can help build a gradual ramp leading into the pit of, for example, racism.

Another concern is the disclaimer might be seen as insulting. It seems to suggest viewers are too stupid to understand the obvious point of the movie, that racism is bad. As a counter, people do misread comedy. A good example of this is the character of Stephen Colbert once played by Stephen Colbert on the Colbert Report. While Colbert is a liberal who mocks conservatives (and liberals) some conservative viewers believed that he was serious about being a conservative. They understood he was doing comedy (the show was on Comedy Central) but did not get his point. While it is anecdotal evidence, I know conservatives who thought this. Since we all enjoyed the show, I was careful not to spoil their fun with the truth.  As such, it is possible that the movie might be seen by some people as endorsing racism

As another example, the 1975 “Germans” episode of “Fawlty Towers” includes the use of the N-word by the character of the major. In the episode, the major corrects someone for using a racist slur by suggesting they use another racist slur. In 2013 the BBC edited the episode to take out the word, which created a negative reaction in some quarters. A few years ago the BBC pulled the episode from streaming.

John Cleese, who played the main character on the show said that the racism of the major was presented in a negative light and that the point of the line was to criticize (with comedy) rather than commit racism. According to Cleese, “You see, what people don’t understand, there’s two ways of criticizing people. One is a direct criticism. And the other is to present their views as they would present them, but to make sure that everyone realizes that the person presenting those rules is a fool. And literal-minded people, who are the curse of the planet, can’t understand that. They think if you say something, you must mean it literally.” The decision makers seem to have come to agree with Cleese.  The episode was eventually restored, but some streaming services included a disclaimer or warning.

While these are only two examples, they do show how people can be mistaken about the intent of comedy. As the “Fawlty Towers” example shows, people can be confused about the intent of the use of racism in comedy. As such, the use of disclaimers even for comedies critical of racism would seem justified. The explanation provided can help people understand the intention of the work and realize that the racism in the comedy is not intended to be racist but is critical of racism. As such, the use of disclaimers could be a reasonable means of preventing such confusion. This benefit must be balanced against the possible harm, though. It can be argued that a reaction from “the left” about a work they mistake as racist would provide even better fodder for the right-wing outrage engines than the disclaimer. If the argument is a good one, then this would serve to justify the use of disclaimers.

As a final point, it is certainly sensible to inform potential viewers about content that they might find problematic, but it might suffice to add a text warning at the start (“contains comedy critical of racism that references racism”) rather than a disclaimer.

As noted in previous essays, Wizards of the Coast (WotC) created a stir when they posted an article on diversity and D&D. The company made some minor changes to the 2024 version of the game which generated some manufactured controversy.  The company took the approach of “portraying all the peoples of D&D in relatable ways and making it clear that they are as free as humans to decide who they are and what they do.” They also decided to make a change that “offers a way for a player to customize their character’s origin, including the option to change the ability score increases that come from being an elf, a dwarf, or one of D&D’s many other playable folk. This option emphasizes that each person in the game is an individual with capabilities all their own.”

While the AD&D Monster Manual allowed individual monsters to vary in alignment and Dungeon Masters have always broken racial stereotypes in their campaigns, there has also been a common practice to portray races and species in accord with established in-game stereotypes. Drow and orcs are traditionally monstrous and evil while elves and dwarves are usually friendly and good.

AD&D also established the idea that fantasy races have specific physical and mental traits. AD&D also set minimum and maximum scores for the game stats. For example, half-orcs have a maximum Intelligence score of 17, a Wisdom score limit of 14, and their highest possible Charisma is 12. The game also divided characters by sex; females of all the races could not be as strong as the males. A PC’s race also limited what class they could take and how far they could progress. Going back to half-orcs, they could not be druids, paladins, rangers, magic users, illusionists, or monks. They could be clerics, fighters or thieves, albeit with limits on their maximum level. They were, however, able to level without racial limits as assassins. This is why AD&D players are suspicious of half-orc PCs; they are probably evil assassins. As a side note, the only PCs I have killed as a player have been half-orc assassins who decided tried to assassinate me. Given that race has been such an important part of D&D, it is no wonder the changes upset some players.

While some assume all critics of the changes are racist, I will not make that mistake. There are good, non-racist arguments for not changing the game. The problem is that racists (or trolls using racism) also use the same arguments. A difference between the two, aside from the racism, is that honest critics are arguing in good faith while racists (and trolls using racism) are arguing in bad faith. The main distinction is in their goals: a good faith critic opposes the changes for reasons they give in public. Those arguing in bad faith conceal their true motives and goals.

Some claim the people making the bad faith arguments are probably just trolls and not racists. But this distinction does not matter. Consider the following analogy. Imagine Sally takes communion at church. The wine tastes odd and later someone Tweets at her “did u like the atheist piss in ur blood of Christ? Lol!” Consider these three options. First, the person does not have a real commitment to atheism and is just trolling Sally to get a reaction. Second, the person hates Sally personally and was out to get her. Third, the person is an atheist who hates religious people and went after Sally because she is religious.

On the one hand, the person’s motives do not really matter: Sally still drank their urine. That is, the harm done does not depend on why it is done.  On the other hand, one can debate the relative badness of the motivations—but this does not seem to change the harm. Going back to racism, the person’s motivation does not matter in terms of the harm they cause by defending and advancing racism. Now, to the argument.

A good-faith argument can be made by claiming there is in-game value of having distinct character races, such as allowing people different experiences. Just as having only one character class would be dull, only having one basic race to play would also be dull. So, just as the classes should be meaningfully different, so too should the fictional races. While there are legitimate concerns about how racists can exploit the idea that races differ in abilities, it can also be argued that people understand the distinction between the mechanics of the fantasy world and reality. It can also be argued that we can stop the slippery slope slide from accepting fantasy races as different while not embracing real-world racism. One could even make a positive argument: people playing the game get accustomed to fictional diversity and recognize that PCs of different types bring different strengths to the party, something that extends analogically to the real world.

Unfortunately, this same sort of argument can be used in bad faith. One tactic is to use this argument but then slide into alleged differences between real people and then slide into actual racism. As a concrete example, I have seen people begin with what seems to be a reasonable discussion of D&D races that soon becomes corrupt. One common racist (or troll) tactic is to start by bringing up how D&D has subraces for many PC races. There are subraces of elves, dwarves, halflings and others that have different abilities. The clever racist (or troll) will suggest there should be human subraces in the game. On the face of it, this seems fine: they are following what is already established in the game. At this point, the person could still be a non-racist who likes the idea of fantasy subraces and thinks it would be cool to have different options when they play a human. But the racist will move on to make references to real-world ethnic groups, asking how one would stat whites, Asians, African-Americans and so on. The person can insist that they are just following the logic of the game and they seem to be right. After all, if the game has many sub-races with meaningful differences, then the same could apply to humans. And this is exactly how a racist can exploit this aspect of the game. A persuasive racist can convince people that they never moved from discussing D&D into racism and they can use the honest critics as cover. This shows why the change has merit, it could deny racists a tool.

Being an old school gamer, I do like the idea of distinct races in games. This is because of the variety they offer for making characters. While I do not want to yield this to the racists, I can see the need for a change to counter the racists. This would be yet another thing made worse by racists.

A second argument is a reductio ad absurdum argument. The idea is to assume that something is true and then derive an absurdity or contradiction from this assumption. This shows that assumption is false. In the case of races in D&D, some people have noted that the proposed approach would logically lead to all creatures in the game being the same. One person, I recall, asserted that the proposed changes entail that tigers and beholders would have the same stats. Another person joked (?) that this would also mean that gnolls would be “friendly puppers.” The idea was, of course, to show that assuming the changes should be accepted would lead to absurd results: no one wants monsters to all have the same stats and no one wants all the game creatures to be good. 

While this could be a good faith argument, there are some concerns. One is that reducing the changes to absurdity in this manner seems to require using the slippery slope fallacy or at least hyperbole and the straw man fallacy. No one is seriously proposing to give all monsters the same statistics or that they will all be morally good. In terms of the slippery slope, no reason has been given that WotC would take the changes to these absurd extremes. At best these would be poor good faith arguments. Depending on where a person goes with them, they could also be bad faith arguments; after all, they do mirror the real-world racist arguments that claim it is absurd to think everyone is perfectly equal and then argue for racism.

I obviously do not think that all monsters should have identical stats nor that all monsters should be good. But this is consistent with the changes and one can easily adopt them and avoid the slippery slope slide into absurdity. In closing, whatever changes WotC makes to D&D, they have no control over what people can do in their own campaigns.

When the culture war opened a gaming front, I began to see racist posts in gaming groups on Facebook and other social media. Seeing these posts, I wondered whether they are made by gamers who are racists, racists who game or merely trolls (internet, not D&D).

Gamers who are racists are actual gamers that are also racists. Racists who play games (or pretend to play them) are doing so as a means to recruit others into racism. While right-wing hate groups recruit video gamers, there seems to be no significant research into recruitment through tabletop games like D&D. My discussion does not require any racists who game; all that is needed is gamers who are racist. Unfortunately, you can easily find them on social media.

An easy way to summon racists is to begin a discussion of diversity in gaming or mention of the revised 2024 rules. But surely there are non-racists who disagree with diversity in gaming and the changes WotC has made in the 2024 rules? Is it not hyperbole and a straw man to cast all critics of diversity as racists? This is a fair and excellent point: to assume every critic of diversity and the game changes is a racist would be bad reasoning. But while some racists are openly racist, others use stealth. They advance arguments that seem reasonable and non-racist while occasionally letting a hint of racism show through. But not so much racism that it cannot be plausibly denied.

There is also another problem: the honest non-racist critic and a stealthy racist will often advance the same arguments. So, what is the difference, other than the racism? The answer is that the critic is arguing in good faith while the racist is arguing in bad faith.

As a philosopher, I will start with the philosophical definition of an argument. In philosophy, an argument is a set of claims, one of which is supposed to be supported by the others. There are two types of claims in an argument. The first type of claim is the conclusion.  This is the claim that is supposed to be supported by the premises. A single argument has one and only one conclusion, although the conclusion of one argument can be used as a premise in another argument.

The second type of claim is the premise. A premise is a claim given as evidence or a reason to logically accept the conclusion. Aside from practical concerns, there is no limit to the number of premises in an argument. When assessing any argument there are two factors to consider: the quality of the premises and the quality of the reasoning. The objective of philosophical argumentation is to make a good argument with true (or at least plausible) premises. Roughly put, the goal is to reach the truth.

Philosophical argumentation is different from persuasion as the goal of persuasion is to get the audience to believe a claim whether it is true or false. As Aristotle noted, philosophical argumentation is weak as persuasion. Empty rhetoric and fallacies (errors in reasoning) have greater psychological force (though they lack all logical force). The stage is thus set to talk about bad faith.

The foundation of arguing in good faith is the acceptance of the philosophical definition of argument: the goal is to provide plausible premises and good reasoning to reach the truth. This entails that the person must avoid intentionally committing fallacies, knowingly making false claims, and misusing rhetoric. A person can, of course, still employ persuasive techniques. Good faith argumentation does not require debating like a stereotypical robot or being dull as dust. But good faith argumentation precludes knowingly substituting rhetoric for reasons. A person can, in good faith, argue badly and even unintentionally commit fallacies because a person can make bad arguments in good faith. A person can, obviously, also make untrue claims when arguing in good faith. But as long as these are errors  rather than lies and the person put in effort to check their claims, then they can still be arguing in good faith. 

Arguing in good faith also requires that the person be honest about whether they believe their claims and whether they believe their reasoning is good. A person need not believe what they are arguing for, since a person can advance an argument, they disagree with as part of a good faith discussion. For example, I routinely present arguments that oppose my own views when I am doing philosophy.

One must also be honest about one’s goals when arguing from good faith. To illustrate, a critic of changes to D&D who is open about their belief that they are detrimental to D&D would be acting in good faith. A racist who argues against changes in D&D hoping to lure people into racism while concealing their motives would be arguing in bad faith. As would be suspected, a clever racist will conceal their true motives when trying to radicalize the normies. There is also the possibility that a person is trolling. But if someone is trolling with racism it does not matter that they are a troll for they are still doing the racist’s work for them.

While there are objective methods for sorting out the quality of arguments and the truth of claims, determining motives and thoughts can be hard. As such, while I can easily tell when someone is committing an ad hominem fallacy, I cannot always tell when someone is engaged in bad faith argumentation. This is more in the field of psychology than philosophy as it involves discerning motives and intentions. However, sorting out motives and intents is something we all do, and we can divine from a person’s actions and words what their motives and intents might be. But we should use caution before accusing someone of arguing in bad faith and this accusation certainly should not be used as a bad faith tactic. To use accusations of bad faith as a rhetorical device or an ad hominem would be bad faith argumentation and would, of course, prove nothing. But why should people argue in good faith?

There are two broad reasons why people should do so. The first is ethical: arguing in good faith is being honest and arguing in bad faith is deceitful.  Obviously, one could counter this by arguing against honesty and in favor of deceit. The second is grounded in critical thinking: bad faith argumentation generally involves bad logic, untruths, and a lack of clarity. As such, arguing in good faith is ethical and rational. Bad faith argumentation is the opposite. Why, then, do people argue in bad faith?

One reason is that bad faith reasoning can work well as persuasion. If one rejects truth as the goal and instead focuses on winning, then bad faith argumentation would be the “better” choice. 

A second reason is that a person might risk harm, such as social backlash, for arguing their views in good faith. In such cases, hiding their views would be prudent. As a good example, a person who wants to get people to accept human rights in a dictatorship might argue in bad faith, hoping to “trojan horse” people into accepting their views. If they openly argued for human rights, they risk being imprisoned or killed. As an evil example, a racist might argue in bad faith, hoping to “trojan horse” people into accepting their views. If they were openly racist in a D&D Facebook group, they would face censure and might be kicked out of the group. So arguing acting in bad faith is the only way they will be able to poison the group from the inside. A third reason is that bad faith reasoning can lure people down a path they would not follow if it were honestly labeled. Such a use does raise moral questions; some might advance a utilitarian argument to defend its use for good while others might condemn such deceit even if it is alleged it is to achieve a good end.

In the next essay I will look at some arguments against some of WotC’s policies that can be made in good or bad faith

A few years ago the owners of D&D, Wizards of the Coast, issued an article on diversity. In the previous essay, I advanced two arguments in defense of some of what Wizards proposed. One is the utilitarian argument stolen from Plato that harmful aspects of art can harm a person’s character and could increase their chances of behaving badly in the real world. The second is a Kantian style argument that it does not matter whether immoral content causes harm, what matters is that the content is immoral. I ended the essay noting an obvious concern with my argument: the same reasoning would seem to apply to two core aspects of D&D: killing and looting.

As an aside, I lived through the Satanic Panic D&D faced in the 1980s. The argument against D&D was like Plato’s argument but with a Christian modification that D&D would lead people to Satanism and other cults. Like most other moral panics from the right, this was debunked long ago. Now back to killing and theft.

Using Plato’s argument as a template, it is easy to argue that violence and looting should be removed from D&D: engaging in fictional violence and theft could corrupt people and make them more likely to behave badly in real life. I can also reuse the Kantian argument: even if hacking up dragons and looting their hoards had no impact on people, allowing the immoral content of killing and stealing would be immoral. This would allow for an argument from analogy: if D&D should be cleansed of racist elements for moral reasons, then it should also be cleansed of violence and theft on moral grounds. There are two main options in terms of where this reasoning should take us.

The first is to accept the analogy and agree D&D should also be cleansed of violence and theft. This would radically change the game, although some people have run violence-free campaigns. The second is to take this analogy as a reductio ad absurdum of the original argument. If using the same logic (what is known as parity of reasoning) leads to an absurd conclusion, then this can be taken as refuting arguments with the same logic. A well-known example of this is philosophy is Gaunilo’s reply to St. Anselm’s ontological argument.

Since D&D is inherently a game of combat and looting, it would be absurd to remove these elements. This would be analogous to removing cars from NASCAR. Since the violence argument is reduced to absurdity, the diversity argument is absurd as well. D&D should remain unchanged: killing, looting and no diversity changes. While this line of reasoning is appealing, it can be challenged.

For this reasoning to be good,  fictional violence and theft must be analogous to fictional racism within the game. Interestingly, someone agreeing with this reasoning would need to agree that racism, killing and looting are all bad but they should not be removed from the game. Someone who thinks that racism, killing, and looting are all morally fine would not need to make the absurdity argument. They could just argue there is no moral reason to remove any of these from the game. So, can a person believe that killing, stealing and racism are bad while consistently supporting diversity on moral grounds while also allowing in game killing and looting? The answer is “yes” and supporting this requires arguing that the analogy between killing and racism breaks down.

The obvious way to do this is to point out a relevant difference between racism and killing: while racism seems to always be wrong, there are arguments that support morally acceptable violence. These include such things as Locke’s moral argument for self-defense and centuries of work in just war theory. In contrast, there seem to be no good forms of racism or cases in which racism is morally defensible. While someone might use violence for self-defense against a wrongful attack and be morally justified, there seem to be no cases of racism in self-defense: that one must use morally acceptable racism to protect oneself against wrongful racism. Likewise, there is no body of ethics that constitutes just racism theory. To be fair to the racists, they could argue in favor of the ethics of racism and I certainly invite good faith efforts to publicly make such a case.

Because there are moral distinctions in violence, D&D could include ethical violence with no moral problem. It would not be corrupting, nor would it be inherently evil. In D&D people typically play heroes doing heroic deeds such as fighting evil foes and looting their foes to continue their heroic efforts. There are, however, three obvious counters to this argument.

One is that there are arguments that violence is always wrong, and one could be a moral absolutist about violence. If violence is always wrong, then it would be wrong to include it in D&D. While not without its problems, pacifism is a coherent moral view and would certainly make D&D morally problematic if it were correct.

The second is that people play non-good and even evil characters in D&D who engage in evil acts of violence. I have played evil characters myself, my favorite being my delusional anti-paladin D’ko.  One could argue that playing evil PCs would be immoral. The obvious reply is that if one is playing the role and it is not impacting the person, then there would be no moral problem: no one is being harmed, and the evil deeds are fictional. If someone were to get into the role too much and engage in behavior that did hurt other people then that would be wrong as real harm would be done. This could even be harm done at the table. For example, a player who has their character rape defeated foes and graphically describes this to the other players could be doing real harm.  Also, a Kantian might disagree about the distinction between fictional and real evil and argue that to will evil even in play would still be evil.

The third is that even in games where all the PCs are good (or at least not evil), the DM must take on the role of any evil NPCs the players interact with and engage in fictional acts of evil. As such, it would seem hard to avoid including unjust violence in D&D. From a utilitarian perspective, this would be morally acceptable if the fictional violence did no harm, either in terms of corrupting people or inflicting suffering on those involved. Again, a Kantian approach might forbid even harmlessly playing an evil being as a DM but some Kantians are notorious as killjoys.

As my closing argument, I contend there is a meaningful distinction between playing an evil character doing evil acts of fictional violence and having the game content mirror the racism of the real world. To use an obvious analogy, this is the distinction between an actor playing the role of a racist in a movie and knowingly acting in a movie that serves as racist propaganda.  As such, D&D can retain violence, and players can play evil characters (within limits) while avoiding moral harms. But the racism should certainly go.

A few years ago, Wizards of the Coast(WotC), who own Dungeons & Dragons, issued a statement on diversity. As would be expected, the responses split along ideological lines and the culture war continues to this day. The D&D front of the culture war is personal for me. I started playing D&D in 1979 and have been a professional gaming writer since 1989. This ties me into the gaming aspect of the war. I am also a philosophy professor, so this ties me into the moral and aesthetic aspects of this fight.

The statement made by WotC has three main points. The first addresses race in the real world. The second addresses the portrayal of fictional races, such as orcs and drow, within the game. The third addresses racism from the real world within the game, with the example of how a Romani-like people were portrayed in the Curse of Strahd. In this essay I will focus on the in-game issues.

Before getting to the in-game issues, I will pre-empt some of the fallacious arguments. While it is tempting to use straw man attacks and hyperbole in this war, WotC cannot prevent gamers from doing as they wish in their own games. If you want your orcs to be evil, vegans, mathematicians or purple, you can and there is nothing WotC or Hasbro can do. Any change of WotC policy towards D&D races (or species) only applies to WotC. As such, the only censorship issue applicable here is self-censorship.

As always in the culture war, there were (and are) ad hominem attacks on folks at WotC. Most of these attribute “wicked” motives to them and take these alleged motivations as relevant to the correctness of their claims. In some cases, the criticism is that WotC is engaged in “woke marketing” to sell more products. While this can be evaluated as a business strategy, it proves nothing about the correctness of their position. In other cases, those at WotC have been accused of being liberals who are making things soft and safe for the dainty liberal snowflakes. This is also just an ad hominem and proves nothing. One must engage with the actual claims rather than flail away with insults.

To be fair, one can raise legitimate questions about the ethics of the folks at WotC: their motives do matter when assessing them as people. If this is merely cynical snowflake marketing, then they could be criticized as hypocrites. But their motives are still irrelevant to the assessment of their position and plans. It is to this that I now turn.

While the Monster Manual from AD&D does allow for monsters to differ in alignment from their standard entries in the book, many fictional races in the game have long been presented as “monstrous and evil.” These famously include orcs and the drow (a type of elf). The concern expressed by WotC is that the descriptions of these fictional races mirror the way racism manifests in the real world. Their proposed fix was to portray “all the peoples of D&D in relatable ways and making it clear that they are as free as humans to decide who they are and what they do.” In the case of real-world racism manifesting in their products, such as the depiction of a fictional version of the Romani, they plan to rewrite some older content and ensure that future products are free of this sort of thing. These changes raise both moral and aesthetic concerns.

One way to defend the traditional portrayal of fictional races in D&D is to, obviously enough, appeal to tradition. Since Tolkien, orcs have been portrayed as evil. Since the G and D series of modules,  D&D drow have been evil. The obvious problem with this defense is that it the appeal to tradition is a fallacy, one I have addressed at length in other essays.

Another way to defend the idea that some fictional races are inherently evil (or at least almost always evil) is to use in-game metaphysics. Until recently, good and evil were objective aspects of the standard D&D world. Spells could detect good and evil, holy and unholy weapons inflicted damage upon creatures of opposing alignments, and certain magic impacted creatures based on their alignment. Demons and devils are, by their nature, evil in classic D&D. Angels and other celestials are, by nature, good in classic D&D. While alignment does have some role in D&D 5E, this role is miniscule by way of comparison.

In most D&D worlds, gods of good and evil exist and certain races were created by such gods. For example, the elves have mostly good deities, with the most obvious exception being the goddess Lolth, the queen of the demonweb pits. As such, the notion of races that are predominantly evil or good makes sense in such game worlds. As good and evil are metaphysically real, creatures could be imbued by divine and infernal powers with alignments.

While this defense does have its appeal, it raises an obvious concern: in the real-world people defend real racism with appeals to good and evil. They invoke creation stories to “prove” that certain people are better and others inferior. As the folks at WotC note, fantasy worlds often mirror the racism of the real world.

One reply to such concerns is to point out that most people can distinguish between the fictional world of D&D and the real world. Casting orcs and drow as evil and monstrous, even using language analogous to that used by racists in the real world, is nothing to be concerned about because people know the difference. The player who curses the “foul green skins” in game will not thus become a racist in the real world and curse the “wicked whites.” Thus, one might conclude, WotC stands refuted. There is, however, an ancient philosophical counter to this reply.

In the Republic Plato presents an argument for censorship based on the claim that art appeals to emotions and encourages people to give in to these emotions.  Giving way to these emotions is undesirable because it can lead to shameful or even dangerous behavior. On his view, viewing tragic plays might lead a person to give in to self-pity and behave poorly. Exposure to violent art might cause a person to yield more readily to the desire to commit violence. While Plato does not talk about racism (because the ancients had no such concept), his argument would apply here as well: engaging in fictional racism can lead people to racism in the real world. As such, Plato would presumably praise WotC for this action.

At this point it is reasonable to bring up the obvious analogy to video games. While the power of video games to influence ethics would seem to be an empirical matter, the current research is inconclusive because the “…evidence is all over the place” —so it currently comes down to a matter of battling intuitions regarding their power to influence. So, I will turn to Plato’s most famous student.

As Aristotle might say, players become habituated by their play.  This includes not just the skills of play but also the moral aspects of what is experienced in play. This, no doubt, is weaker than the influence of the habituation afforded by the real world. But to say that D&D games with moral components have no habituating influence is analogous to saying that video games with hand-eye coordination components have no habituating impact on hand-eye coordination beyond video games. One would have to assert players learn nothing from their hours of play, which seems unlikely.

I am not claiming that D&D takes control of the players in a Mazes and Monsters scenario, just that experiences shape how we perceive and act, something that is obviously true. So, I do not think that people who play in D&D games casting orcs and drow as monstrous and even those that mirror real world racism would make players into white supremacists. Rather, I agree with the obvious claim: our experiences influence us and getting comfortable with fictional racism makes it slightly easier to get comfortable with real world racism.

For those who prefer Kant, one could also advance a Kantian style argument: it does not matter whether the in-game racism that mirrors real world racism has an impact on people’s actions or not, what matters is whether such racism is wrong or right in and of itself. If racism is wrong, then even fictional racism would thus be wrong.

As someone who regularly games, I can see the obvious danger in the arguments I have just advanced: would not the same arguments apply to a core aspect of D&D, namely the use of violence? I will address these matters in the next essay.

Artists often claim to have a special relationship that gives them rights over their art even after it has been sold. One example involved artist David Phillips and Fidelity. Fidelity hired Phillips to create a sculpture park and then the company wanted to make changes to it.  With neither side willing to compromise, Phillips sued Fidelity alleging the changes would mutilate his work. A famous example occurred in 1958 when the owner of the mobile Pittsburgh donated it to Pennsylvania’s Allegheny County. Alexander Calder, the creator of the mobile, unsuccessfully opposed the plan to repaint the black and white mobile green and gold.  In 1969 sculptor Takis (Panayotis Vassilakis) tried to remove his work from New York City’s Museum of Modern Art. He claimed he had the right to determine how his art was exhibited—even after it had been sold.  A more recent example involves watches.

 Dann Thorleifsson and Arne Leivsgard, founders of the Kanske watch brand, purchased painter Tal R’s Paris Chic and claimed they wanted to cut it into pieces for watch faces. The painting was selected because it is considered a masterpiece and thus might justify the price they intended to charge for the watch. The two have purchased paintings by other famous Danish artists for the same purpose. Tal R condemned the project and won an injunction in court.  While the court battle sorted out the legal issue, the philosophically problem is determining what rights an artist retains over their work once they have sold it.

One approach is to consider selling a work of art like selling other goods. Suppose Sally hires Jane to paint the interior of her house. After the work is done, Sally decides she has changed her mind about one room and plans to have it repainted.  Suppose Jane demands the room be left unchanged because she painted the room. Imagine that Sally learns Jane intends to buy a new laptop with what Sally paid her. Sally does not like this and demands that Jane give the money to charity.  While Sally’s demand is absurd, it seems no more absurd than Jane’s. Either both have a right to control their former property or neither has that right.

It seems reasonable to see this as a change of ownership and hence a change of control: Sally now owns Jane’s painting and Jane now owns Sally’s money. Neither has a right to tell the other what she can do with her property.

If the analogy holds, an artist who wishes to retain the right to control their work must place such restrictions in the agreement. To insist on new conditions after the sale would be unfair, as the above analogy shows.

It might be objected that the artist has a special relationship with their art that places it beyond the realm of mere commerce. This relationship gives an artist the right to control their work even after selling it. A seemingly reasonable reply is that when the artist sells their work, they have made it a commercial commodity. They cannot consistently accept payment and insist that art is special. They cannot have their cake and sell it too.

It might be claimed that a work of art has an inherent right not to be altered and even if it is sold, it retains this right. But a work of art does not intuitively seem to be an entity that can have rights. While it is reasonable to suppose that people and animals have rights, it seems odd to assert that a non-sentient thing has rights, even if it is a great work of art. After all, rights against harm are usually based on an ability to suffer and while art might cause suffering, art cannot suffer. Thus, the burden of proof rests on those who claim that a work of art has such a right. So, some other approach is needed.

A practical approach is to focus on the contract between the artist and the buyer. This could be a legal document or informal agreement that specifies how the work can be used. Following Socrates this contract would hold as long as it was not the result of force or fraud.

But contracts cannot and should not be expected to cover every possible situation. As such there is the question of which rights should be assumed to be possessed by the artist and buyer, even if they are not specified in the contract. This involves sorting out the moral default of what can be done with a work of art after it has been sold. This is, of course, focused on unique works rather than mass produced copies. For example, buying a copy of a Harry Potter book from Amazon is different from buying an original painting. In the case of the book, you own a copy but not the work itself.

A right to resell is clearly a basic right, unless otherwise specified in an explicit contract. After all, what can be rightly sold can be rightly sold again unless there is a relevant difference between the sales.  The right to destroy a work also seems to be a right one acquires upon purchasing something. There can be moral limits here, as in the case of buying a pet or in the means of destruction. While Tal R would prefer that the painting not be destroyed, he initially agreed that the owners had the right to do this. The point of dispute was that the owners wanted to use the painting to create watches that would be sold as art and Tal R opposed this.

Taking Tal R’s painting and using it to create new art without his consent would not be work by Tal R, but a forced collaboration. It could even be argued that it would no longer be a work by Tal R, since Tal R would not be participating in the creation. While watches could be made that include cut up pieces of Tal R’s painting, they should not be considered works by the artist. They have no responsibility for the work if it is created without their consent for.

As such, the owners of the painting can sell the unmodified original as a work by Tal R, but to use the painting to create new works to sell as works involving Tal R would be wrong and inaccurate. The same would hold of other works. For example, if an author sells their book to a company and the company then decides to split up the chapters and combine them with the works of other authors to create numerous books to sell as works by that author, then this would be both inaccurate and wrong.

The owners of the painting could have taken the view that the watches are not a derived work while cashing in on the artist’s status. In defense of this approach, one could draw an analogy to cutting up any valuable item, such as a jersey worn by a famous athlete and selling the pieces as collectable objects. In this case, a watch would not be a collaboration, but an expensive container for a fragment of the work and this would have an impact on the artist’s rights. In such a case, it would not be a forced collaboration, but a division of the work for resale and this would be harder to argue against.

 

An issue in aesthetics is whether the ethics of the artist should be relevant to the aesthetic value of their work. Obviously, what people think about an artist can influence their feelings about their work. But how people assess works of art and how they should do so are different.

One way to approach this is to look at art works as like any other work or product, such as a student’s paper in a philosophy class or a storage shed. In the case of a student’s paper, a professor can be influenced by how they feel about the student. For example, if a professor learned that a student had groped another student, then the professor is likely to dislike the student. But if the professor decided to assign a failing grade to the alleged groper’s paper, then this would be unfair and unjust as the quality of the paper has nothing to do with the behavior of the student. After all, a paper is supposed to be assessed based on the quality of the writing nd not on what the professor feels about the student.

By analogy, the same should apply to works of art: the quality and merit of the work should be assessed independently of how you feel about the artist and their (alleged) misdeeds. In the case of the technical aspects of the work, this seems obviously true. For example, the misdeeds of an artist have no bearing on whether they get perspectives right in a drawing or hit the correct notes in a song. Another analogy, that will lead to an objection, is to a professional athlete.

In sports like running and football, an athlete’s performance is an objective matter and how the spectators feel about the athlete has no role in judging that athletic performance. For example, how the spectators feel about a marathon runner has no impact on how their time should be judged. The time is what it is regardless of how they feel. By analogy, the same should apply to works of art. A work is what it is regardless of how people feel about the artist. The analogy to athletes leads to an objection against this view.

While the quality of an athlete’s performance is an objective matter (in certain sports), professional athletes are often also entertainers. For example, a professional basketball player is there to play basketball to entertain the crowd. Part of the enjoyment of the crowd depends on the quality of the athlete’s performance, but what an audience member thinks about the athlete can also affect their enjoyment. For example, if the audience member does not like the athlete’s history of domestic violence, then the fan’s experience of the game can be altered. The experience of the game is not just an assessment of the quality of the athletic performance, but can involve consideration of the character of the athletes.

By analogy, the same applies to artists. So, for example, while Combs might be a skilled musician, the allegations against him can change the experience of someone listening to his music.

The obvious reply is that while people do often feel this way, they are mistaken. They should, as argued above, be assessing the athlete based on their performance in the game. What they do off the field or court is irrelevant to what they do on the court. In the case of art, the behavior of the artist should be irrelevant to the aesthetic merit of the work. For example, Combs music should not be considered differently in the face of the allegations against him. Once again, people will feel as they do, but to let their feelings impact the assessment of the work would be an error.

This is not to say that people should feel the same about works in the face of revelations about artists or that they should still buy their art. The right to freedom of feeling is as legitimate as the right to freedom of expression and people are generally free to consume art as they wish. They are also free to say how a performance (be it athletic or artistic) makes them feel. But this is a report about them and not about the work. Naturally, there are aesthetic theories in which the states of the consumer of art matter and these are certainly worthy of their due, but this goes beyond the limited scope of this essay.

Another approach to the matter is to consider a case in which nothing is known about the creator of a work of art. As examples, a work might be found in an ancient burial site, or an anonymous poem might appear on a web site. These works can be assessed without knowing anything about their creators and this suggests that the moral qualities of the artist are irrelevant to the quality of the work.

Suppose that the anonymous poem was regarded as brilliant and beautiful, but then people learned it was written by an awful person. Nothing about the poem has changed, so the assessment of the poem should not change either. But some would change their minds based on the revelation. Now imagine that that the initial attribution of the poem was in error, it was really written by a decent and kind person. Nothing about the poem has changed, so the assessment should also remain unchanged. The point is that tying aesthetic assessment to the character of the artist entails that judging the aesthetic merit of a work would require knowing the moral status of the creator, which seems absurd. Going back to the sports analogy, it would be like having to determine if a runner was a good or bad person before deciding whether a two-hour marathon was a good time or not. That is absurd. Likewise for the art. As such, the moral qualities of the artist are irrelevant to the aesthetic merit of their work. Unless they are not

 

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.