White Ford Polanski

Ithink that Chris Hedges says this so much better than I ever will so to hear him say it better, go to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ch0fl0m60Oo And now for my pathetic take on something important... You know when someone is supposed to be important. It's when you call them only by their last name.

Nietzsche, Reagan, Christ.

The world of entertainment is no different. We know the greater than famous only by their last names. Which means, conversely, if one is not great we would say the whole name. For instance, if I am watching Die Hard 2, I'm watching a Renny Harlin flick. But cinema belongs to Coppola, Spielberg, Scorsese, Hitchcock, and recently, Tarantino.

You get the idea.

One of the great ones has drawn some attention to himself these days, but not for his filmmaking.

Polanski.

I'm in no way a movie expert but I've been told that Roman Polanski is a pretty heavy-duty movie director. They say that before I die, I'm supposed to watch these movies: Repulsion, Rosemary's Baby, and Chinatown -- all directed by Polanski. Well, I've seen Rosemary's Baby (and unfortunately its sequel, which may have started that horrible Hollywood tradition of following up fairly decent movies with sequels that you wouldn't show to someone you really wanted to hurt). For those who don't watch cinema, Polanski is probably more (well) known for being the husband of Sharon Tate, who was murdered in 1969 by members of the Manson Family. These things made Polanski famous, but recent attention given to the director has focused on something that made him infamous. Namely, the 1977 drugging and rape of a 13 year old girl at the home of fellow famous person Jack Nicholson following a photo shoot.

Polanski admitted that he gave the girl champange and quaaludes (now that says 70s!), and eventually pled guilty to having unlawful sex with a minor.

As a culture, we tend to look somewhat negatively at people who have sex with kids.

Knowing that this is so, and that he stood to find himself on the bad end of the law, Roman Polanski fled sentencing and went to France, a country that does not have a full extradition treaty with the United States -- thus avoiding spending any time behind bars. After 30 years of avoiding his sentence, Polanski was arrested in September of 2009 while on his way to the Zurich Film Festival.

Better late than never.

In a not-so stunning move, the Hollywood community stood up and rallied to Polanski's defense. Some of Polanski's fellow Hollywoodites signed a petition calling for his immediate release. Martin Scorsese, David Lynch, Woody Allen, Debra Winger (who you almost have to ask "who?" when you hear her name), and Whoopi Goldberg (who, thankfully informed us of the difference between rape and rape rape) are among the stars who have called for Polanski's release. Even the governments of France and Polanski's native Poland have called for Polanski to be set free. Many, including the Swiss and the Los Angeles DAs office, haven't been swayed by the pressure from our fine moviemaking community. Some have gone so far as to dismiss the chatter as Hollywood's rallying around one of their own, no matter how awful the crime (funny, I remember a considerable lack of this reflex when OJ was accused of double murder). Although Whoopi Goldberg's remark may have been another example of celebrity-induced boneheadedness, she brings up a point that most assuredly many have pondered since Polanski's arrest -- was what he did really a crime? Not only that, but if it was, has the passage of time lessened the offense?

Did time heal these wounds?

Some of Polanski's supporters (and some people in general) say that attitudes were different in the 70s. I suppose that this sentiment has something to do with the fact that, at the tail end of the sexual revolution, sexual attitudes, even concerning children was more laxed than they are now. So, some say that determining whether an actual crime was committed has to do with whether a child is able to consent to sexual activity.

Psychologists say that children much younger than 18 are morally aware (thus responsible) for their actions. Chlidren as young as 9, according to psychologists, have moral distinct sensibilities.

A 13 year old is, according to Freud, in the genital stage of development -- a stage wherein children begin to initiate romantic and sexual relations with members of the opposite sex (or same sex if that's the way you roll). Traditionally, common law recognized that children as young a 14 could be held legally accountable for their actions. And anecdotally, we've all either seen or heard of the kid who neither looked nor acted like a child. So, in the minds of some, a child of 13 is more than biologically capable of deciding of she wants to have sex with a grown man.

But this assertion doesn't sound right to some people (myself included). It can easily be stated that there is a difference between biological maturity and mental maturity or moral awareness. When we say that someone is "mature", we're including the idea that he is capable of rational decision-making. Rationality is connected (if not required) to the ability to consent to any activity. So if we bring up the idea of rationality as required for engaging in consentual activity, we must ask when is a child rational? When can a child make decisions concerning sexuality.

I've decided to take a look at what Kant says about rationality.

Kant says that moral judgments are products of reason or the rational mind. Rational beings possess rational minds. And having rational minds, humans are rational beings. Rational beings possess a free mind and are capable of deciding according to their free will ( meaning that we are free moral agents). Moral agents must be treated as ends-in-themselves, that is, we are obliged to treat others as rational moral agents and not as a means to our own ends. Although Kant says a great deal about what free moral agents are, he spends little time telling us when a person is a free moral agent -- he doesn't specify at what age a person becomes a moral agent. It is obvious to us that an 18 month old child does not share the same moral capacity as his 28 year old mother. But, if we look at the toddler's 6 year old sister, the distinction between the moral awareness of adults and children aren't so clear. We can see that a child of six possesses some capacity to perform moral judgments. But, according to Kant's view is "some" enough? I think this is Kant's answer: Kant says that when we interact with others, we must treat them as if they are rational beings -- irrespective of whether the individual is in fact a free moral agent.

So, if psychologists say that children as young as 9 can render moral judgments, and Kant suggests that we treat people as if they are rational moral agents, then Whoopi Goldberg may have a point.

Roman Polanski is not guilty of rape rape.

But this still doesn't sit well with me. I still feel like he has done something wrong for which he should be punished. But I realize that, despite my gut feelings, the supporters may be right. But then, I remember one, small, detail. He drugged her.

We know that when it comes to sexual activity and the law, a person who is inebriated or mentally diminished cannot legally consent to sexual activity. This is why if you give a girl a roofie (even if she said that she wanted to have sex with you hours eariler), you could find yourself facing rape charges. The fact that she was unable to consent to sexual intercourse at the time that the activity took place meant that you performed an unconsentual sexual act with a drugged person. You could not only find yourself facing rape charges, but also charges for administering the drug (I think in some states it's considered poisoning). Kant's idea of rationality requires that a person be fully engaged in their decision-making ( which means that in addition to being sober, a person cannot be forced or coerced into moral judgments according to Kant). If a person is under the influence of drugs, Kant would say that the person is not fully capable of using their ability to reason. By drugging the girl, she became a mere means to Polanski's ends. So, in this circumstance, she could have looked Roman Polanski in the eye and demanded that he make her a woman, but the fact that he filled her full of booze and ludes made her unable to participate in the act as a free moral agent.

So Whoopi is wrong. He is guilty of rape rape.

But still there are others who would hold that Polanski's arrest is unjust. Debra Winger stated that Polanski is being punished by a "philistine" legal system. The French Culture Minister said that Polanski has been "thrown to the lions". They feel that he is being treated like a dangerous criminal when he is not. They argue that he is a good man and a humanitarian who has not hurt anyone. Treating a good man like a hardened criminal they say, is a makes a mockery of the concept of justice.

Of course this claim forces us to look a little at what justice (exactly) means.

We ask, what is justice? Some suggest that justice is each getting what he deserves. Others say that justice is equal treatment under the law. Others say that it is acting according to one's virtues, or that justice is whatever the ruler says that it is. Kant's theory of retributive justice holds that those who harm others ought to be harmed in return. In short, you get what's commin' to ya. But, Kant states, the punishment must be proportional. If an offender commits a minor offense, the punishment must be minor as well. If he commits a major offense, then we must punish him accordingly. In this way, Kant's justice is much like justice under Roman Law which held that "the constant and perpetual will to render to each what is his due". In our system of justice, prison sentences are either long or short, depending on the severity of the crime.

So, using Kant's theory of justice, we can say that Polanski knowingly and willingly gave drugs and alcohol to a child and then had (forced) sex with her ( did I mention that she says that she initially put up a fight and that she said "no" repeatedly?). Kant says that, as autonomous moral agents, we are to repect Polanski's actions. If we fail to do so, we are not giving him the proper respect that is required for him to act as a free moral agent. Since he acted freely, we are bound to respect his actions. And since he acted in a manner that was (and is) against the law, we must give him the proper punishment for his crime. Failure to do so is not only harmful to Polanski, but also harmful to us as well.

(Here's the thing... his pals in Hollywood think that they're doing a good thing by saving their colleague from a corrupt justice system. But in reality what they're doing is preventing Roman Polanski from being responsible for his own actions. This is what over-protective parents do when thay want to save their children from every harm in the world. Ultimately, all these good intentions serve to do more harm than good, as the act to protect is less protective than it's paternalistic, thus robbing an individual the ability to make their own moral choices).

So, using Kant yet again, we must see to it that Polanski serves his time.

But, for every Kantian there is an equal and opposite Utilitarian waiting in the wings, ready to say his peace. A utilitarian may say that punishing Roman Polanski now is of little use. So much time has passed and he hasn't done anything like that crime since. Polanski is not a threat to anyone and that sending him to prison would be a waste of time and money, and it only goes to dredge up old memories that even the "victim" has suggested that we let go. To punish him now would be a negative (as it detracts from the common good, and it wastes resources that could have been spent bringing real criminals to justice, and by incarcerating Polanski we're locking up a productive, upstanding, creative member of society). On the first notion, that too much time has passed, and that to do anything now would be useless, Entertainment Weekly contributor Chris Nashawaty put it like this: Roman Polanski may be a great director but he's still a convicted felon. The fact that 30 years has passed has not made the crime any less morally repugnant. If we wanted to argue that time lessens offenses, we can use the same argument to release Manson family member Leslie van Houten, and likewise argue that it was morally wrong to keep a dying Susan Atkins in prison (there are those who would argue that the passage of time has not made the Manson murders any less morally repugnant --even if Atkins was dying). The utilitarian not only has to consider those who are directly affected by the crime, but everyone who stands to be affected (which in te case of the justice system means everyone). If Polanski is released without serving his sentence, the utilitarian must consider the negative effects of that decision as well, including the possibilty that the integrity and reputation of the justice system might be damaged if people percieve that the legal system is unjustly weighing in favor of Polanski. We see justice is a matter not only of conviction but also of serving the sentence. By fleeing before serving his sentence and possibly getting away with not serving one at all the public may lose confidence in the system's ability to administer justice equally under the law ( as there is already the popular perception that there is a different system of justice for celebrities). Letting Polanski go may seem like the utilitarian thing to do, but may in fact do more harm than good.

And it's this point of two systems of justice that I would like to end.

Rawls held that we could bring fairness into society if we pursued justice from under a veil of ignorance. Rawls believed that if we made laws that benefitted everyone and reduced inequality that we could maintain a just society.

There are those who believe that this idea is complete bullshit.

When we watch TV and complain that OJ "got away" with double murder, or that Leif Garrett paralyzed his friend in a car accident and served not one day behind bars, or that Robert Downey, jr., pulled off a B&E and we were supposed to feel sorry for him, we often say that it seems that there are two systems of justice -- one for the rich and famous and one for everybody else. And seeing Hollywood types like Woody Allen and Steven Spielberg rallying around a convicted child rapist only goes to show that some of our beliefs about a multi-layered justice system are true. We think that the fact that Roman Polanski is a celebrity earns him better treatment than the average barber or computer programmer or some poor undocumented dude who some kid says that he touched her in the park on her way to school. If Roman Polanski were anything other than Roman Polanski, we say, he'd be behind bars before you can say Look What's Happened to Rosemary's Baby? sucked eggs. Perhaps this is why: maybe the real problem is not that there is no morality in Hollywood, but that the famous operate under a different system of justice than everyone else does. Perhaps their view of justice is Aristotelian.

According to Aristotle, some people, because of their character or virtues deserve more. Unlike Rawls, who seeks to minimize inequality, the Aristotelian thinker sees inequality as a mere fact of life. Some people are, by nature, better than average. Inequality is natural. I remember Sharon Tate's sister saying that her former brother-in-law is a philanthropist. And we see that if she is correct, he is not only philanthropically-inclined, but as an artist, he gives his art to the people. By doing his natural talent, he is enhancing the lives of all -- he contributes to Happiness. Aristotle called these types of men magnanimous. And of magnanimous men Aristotle writes, "... since he deserves most... for the better man always deserves more, and the best man most".

And perhaps this is it.

It really isn't a matter whether a child consented to have sex with a man more than twice her age in the home of a mega-star in 1977. It doesn't matter whether she gleefully and rationally entered into sexual relations with Roman Polanski. What matters, we see, is that people like Roman Polanski are just different than people like me and everyone who isn't famous. If he had played his cards right, he should have looked the judge squarely in the face, announced that he was better than everyone in the courtroom, and walked out. I'm sure that it would have worked.

I don't see whay he's hesitating to do it now.

And if anyone believes that I actually think that he shouldn't be behind bars, I need only say that I may be an egoist, but at heart I am a Kantian.

They guy shouldn't know what sunlight feels like for some time.

...For They Know Not What They Do

I was watching season three of The Family Guy last weekend. As I am philosopher, I've trained my eyes to find the philosophic significance of any and all that I see on television. Now, initially, I enjoyed the episode "Petarded", because it was politically incorrect, and because. it's fun to mock the afflicted. But when I watched last weekend, I realized that there was more there than meets the eye. Lurking behind the juvenile "retarded" jokes was the age-old question dealing with moral inclusion -- namely, the question dealing with the culpability of mentally challenged people. In this episone, Peter is diagnosed as mentally disabled (he says retarded, because saying that is funnier than saying he's disabled or challenged). Peter, realizing that he's now mentally feeble, uses his challenged state to his advantage. He starts a Bible fight in church, he opens the occupied stalls in the ladies' bathroom -- all the while excusing himself by announcing that he's "retarded". Normally, we would say that Peter's behavior is inexcusable. if a "normal" person took a peek at us while we were in a public bathroom, that person would probably have an asskicking headed his way. (This is exactly what Sasha Baron Cohen does with his character Borat. By pretending to be ignorant and a little stupid, he gets away with things that we wouldn't tolerate from someone who we thought was normal. There is much more at work with the character, but I won't go it to that here). But, if someone is in a position that he is unable to control himself (or unable to understand what he's doing) we tend to treat those people differently. They do not share the same level of moral culpability as someone who is considered fully functional and rational. So what do we do with people who are not rational? Are they (can they be) responsible for what they do? The emphasis on rationality is one of the drawbacks when we consider human behavior philosophically, especially when we look at the behavior of people who clearly are not rational. There are those who are mentally handicapped -- born with or by way of accident -- who are not able to control or understand their actions (morally, consequences, etc). This is why we do not punish children as we punish adults (except in extreme circumstances) in the legal system. Children do not understand the full extent of their actions. Likewise, we treat people who are mentally handicapped in a manner tha is different than we treat "normal" people. But Peter isn't organically damaged, he merely believes that he's "retarded". What if someone isn't mentally challenged but believes that they are? They say that hanging around crazy people can make a person crazy. And certainly there is alot of anecdotal evidence to prove this to be the case. I don't remember what the name of the movie was, but there is this movie about this dude who wasn't mentally disabled, but was raised in an institution his entire life before someone figured out that he was normal. All I remember is that it was made in the 70s and it had Frederic Forrest in it (I should probably IMDB it someday). So, if someone said that you were mentally disabled (but yoy weren't) are you still responsible for what you do -- assuming that you are actually rational? Are rational people who think irrationally still responsible for what they do? We know that in Peter's case, even though he seems to take his diagnosis seriously, he's still morally on the hook for what he does (and CPS seems to think this as well, as they threaten to take his children away from him). But what about people who really are mentally disabled? Our attitude tends to be "it depends". When we see, for instance, a mentally challenged person who is accused of committing a crime, our first inclination is to ask how mentally challenged that individual is. If a person is merely "slow", we tend to show less sympathy for their condition than if a person were fully incapable of understanding their actions. If a mentally disabled person were accused of murder, we would ask if he demonstrated signs of knowledge of what he had done. We would ask if he ran from the scene of the crime or if he showed remorse for what he did. If he does, we would say that he understands that what he did was wrong, and that he should be punished. But then we ask, to what extent is to be the proper punishment? When Bill Clinton was runnig for president in 1992, he went back to Arkansas to preside over the execution of a mentally challenged man who was condemned for committing a murder. Clinton's decision to uphold the death sentence was blasted by those who felt that the condemned man lacked the mental capacity to understand what he had done. They felt that the punishment was excessive considerning the fact that the man was mentally handicapped. Questions of dimished capacity also arise when we think of the treament of children in the justice system. When a 6 and an 11 year old perpetrated a massacre of their classmates in Jonesboro, the question of whether a child as young as six can understand the implications of his actions came to national prominance. If a child that young can conceive of shooting and killing his classmates with high-powered firearms, does he have the mental capacity understand his actions and be held responsible for what he's done? If the child is not mentally disabled (meaning that besides his young age, he's normal), and we agree that all humans have the capacity for rational thought, then at what point is the child rational enought to be held accountable for what he does? Kant says that we should treat people as if they are rational, free moral agents (this avoids the urge to be paternalistic, which would, according to Kant violate an individual's autonomy).But if we treat all people as if they are rational, are we not treating people in a manner that they are not? The appeal of Kant's theory is that it is cut and dry. There is no room for ambiguity. But in real life, there is more ambiguity than we know what to do with. We're often left to wonder how rational a person is. A person may be able to function in society (even function without anyone else helping them), but they aren't fully rational people. I think of the character Lenny in Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men. Lenny has the capacity to function in society. He's capable of holding a job, and does it well. But mentally, he like a child. When Lenny kills Curley's wife, the act is unintentional. He was trying to feel her hair, but he panicked when she began to scream. Nonetheless, Lenny murdered the woman. He knew he had done wrong, but also seemed incapable of controlling himself when he did it. (Much like how a child acts). What would Kant have to say about Lenny? When the men on the ranch learned that Lenny killed Curley's wife, they gathered a lynch mob to kill him. When we read this, it seems like their punishment for Lenny is unfair --it's not fitting considering that Lenny lacked the mental capacity to fully understand his actions. But, when Lenny's BFF George kills him, somehow when George kills Lenny, we aren't as offended. We understand that George didn not kill Lenny out of revenge, but for the need to protect Lenny from the gang (and maybe to protect Lenny from himself). When George kills Lenny, another ranch hand, Slim, tells George," Never you mind... A guy got to sometimes". There are those who say that this is why they see no wrong in executing prisoners with dimished capacity. It's the "rabid dog" defense. They reason that it is inhumane to allow a rabid dog to go around potentially hurting other people. We don't kill the dog because it is cruel or because we necessarily want to kill the dog, but because we are saving others from an animal that cannot control itself. To put a mentally challenged man behind bars for the rest of his life, they argue is wrong because he may not understand why he is being held (the reasoning being if he doesn't understand that what he did was wrong, how could he understand that he needs to spend the rest of his life in prison for it?). We worry about punishing mentally challenged people excessively, but we know that we cannot simply let them go either.

Maybe Hitler Should Have Tried A Sequined Glove

While the world waits for Michael Jackson's autopsy toxicology results, all of this still dwelling on this has got me thinking: given all of the praise and eulogies (all that is expected when someone of note dies) I wonder is it possible to think of Michael Jackson without thinking about or bringing up the allegations of molestation? I remember in the days that followed Jackson's death, when I listened to (former MTV VJ) Kennedy's radio show, a caller said that it was too early to start in on all of the talk about what Michael "supposedly" did -- that it was too early for all that negativity. He said that we have all the time in the world to talk about whether or not Michael molested kids, and that we should, at least for a time, try to remember the good things. Engaging in talk of well-rounded profiles can come later. Kennedy's response was that, in order to get a well-rounded picture of the person, we have to discuss both the good and the bad. The fact that Michael Jackson died shouldn't automatically wipe away any of the bad that he may have done. That makes sense. But, (and despite the fact that a logician would most certainly say that this is not possible) they're both right. If we ignore the bad stuff we're doing a disservice. If we dwell on it, we're no better than a pack of circling buzzards. Look, for what it's worth, I don't think that we'll get the definitive word on exactly what Michael Jackson did any time soon. What he did with Corey Feldman or Emmanuel Lewis is up for speculation as long as no one says anything or offers something like video of Michael feeling up some kid. I suppose, like thinking about the identity of Jack the Ripper, we won't really ever know. But in the meanwhile, damn, it's hard not to think that he did. But damn, the guy made some really good music. I'm listening to an one of our finer urban music radio stations right now, and "Never Can Say Goodbye" is on. Damn, it's good. (for the record, "Never Can Say Goodbye" is one of the few songs that I can think of that both the original and the remake are good. I'd also put on this list, "Heard It Through the Grapevine", "Proud Mary", Led Zepplin's "Misty Mountain Hop" and "Dancing Days" -- covered by 4 Non Blondes and STP, respectively, Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal" as covered by Alien Ant Farm, and the nine inch nails cover of Joy Division's "Dead Souls" ... wait, actually I liked that remake better than the original). Where was I? Was I anywhere? Anyway, thinking about Michael has got me thinking, of course, about how all of this fits into philosophy. I heard it said that, if there is no God then all is permitted. Meaning, what's the point of being moral if there is no one to punish you for the evil that you do -- assuming that the fear of eternal damnation is what will keep you from doing bad things. I thought of a twiat on that sentiment when it comes to celebrities. If there is no famous person, feel free to say anything that you want about 'em. This came to my mind when I listened to a guest on Coast to Coast "channeling" Michael Jackson! The guy had been dead for less than 72 hours and he was already appearing on a late-night talk show!?! I'm not saying that there is no need to say anything bad, we should if there is something to say. But, it seems that when a famous person dies, it's the ultimate talking behind your back, except there is nothing you can say to dispute whatever anyone says about you. Someone can say that Michael Jackson was a ringleader in an Illuminati child sex/murder ring -- there's absolutely nothing the guy can say. So what's my point? My point is is that people are right when they say that we should look at both the good and the bad about anybody, living or dead. And we shouldn't praise a person for molesting children. But, can we praise a child molester? I mean, Michael Jackson was a stellar artist, that is undeniable. But do the allegations of child abuse outweigh what he did musically? Is it possible to do something so horrendous that no matter what good you do is cancelled out by the bad that you did? (Like how I feel whenever I watch a Woody Allen movie or a Lakers game). Or we capable of doing something that is so brilliant that no matter what we have done (it doesn't make things ok, but) it mitigates what we did so that people will look fondly on us? I'm not talking about forgiving someone for doing harm to other people. What I'm saying is that we think of the bad as truly bad, even unforgivable, but we also bestow praise (for the good things) when we speak about the person as well. When I was thinking about whether we actually do this, a couple of people immediately sprung to my mind: filmmaker Elia Kazan and Founding Father (and 3rd president of the United States) Thomas Jefferson. Elia Kazan, director of cinema classics such as, A Streetcar Named Desire, On the Waterfront and East of Eden, ratted out his fellow Hollywoodians (and suspected Communists) to the government during the HUAC days of good old Senator Joe McCarthy. Careers of Communists, communist sympathizers and suspected Reds were destroyed by suspicions or allegations of being un-American. There are plenty of tales of suicides and all-around bad lives of those who were blacklisted. So when Kazan was awarded (sometime later) the Oscar's lifetime achievement award, there were some in the entertainment industry who were not pleased the a traitor and a ratfink was to be given an honor. They didn't think of Kazan as an esteemed director who deserved the lifetime achievement award, instead they saw a man who was willing to aid in the stiffling of freedom in America. That, according to those who saw Kazan as nothing more than a traitor, was unforgivable. To them, the man could have written the Bible -- it wouldn't have erased what he did. On the other hand, try this out for kicks -- on any 4th of July, around any random crowd of patriotic Americans, declare your unflinching hatred of Thomas Jefferson and all that he stands for. Carry plenty of ice and band-aids 'cause you're gonna need 'em. In Jefferson's Notes On the State of Virginia, Jefferson wrote that Native Americans (then affectionately refered to as "savages"), are "feeble" and that they "have no ardor for his female" and "he has no vivacity, no activity of the mind". On blacks, Jefferson wrote, ( this is where the fun begins) " their existence appears to participate more in sensation than reflection", and "that in memory they are equal to whites; [at least he gives us that -- author's comment] in reason much inferior, as I think one could scarcely be found capable of tracing and comprehending the investigations of Euclid." First, there are plenty of white people who are incapable of tracing the investigations of Euclid! Second, it's pretty hard to read Locke or study the pre-socratics when you're busy doing things like, let's see.... picking cotton and/or being raped by your master!!! But I digress. Let's not forget the fact that Jefferson did own slaves, and due to confirmation by way of DNA evidence, fathered at least one child with an under age slave (since sexual activity between masters and slaves was often non-consentual -- it didn't matter whether it was or not -- either Jefferson was a rapist or a child molester as Sally Hemmings was in her teens when she had her first child. Think about that). But we do not say that Jefferson deserves no praise. He, afterall, is why we are here, living in these United States instead of living as subjects of the British crown (although if we were, we'd have unversal health care, but that's another issue for another writer to handle). Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence, and he increased the nation's size with the Louisianna Purchase. The fact that he owned slaves, or was for lack of a better word, a racist ( not in the way that Glenn Beck says that Barack Obama is a racist, but a real, deep down negroes-are-stupid kind of racist) is overshadowed by the fact that Jefferson was an essential element to the founding of a nation and to the spread of democratic principles both here and abroad. So, for Jefferson, his moral wrongs did not cross pollenate. The wrongs he did did not infect the good he did. Ok, that works for writers of the Declaration of Independence, but Michael Jackson was an entertainer. He may have made us happy, but he didn't make us a nation. Plus, he was accused of committing about the worst crime that a person can be accused of, child molestation. ( I guess the only one that is worse is genocide). Pederasts even rank low among criminals. But I'm listening to Michael Jackson and I feel that doing so, and enjoying it, and praising him for his music isn't wrong. I'm not really hung up on the possibility that he may have touched some kid's privates. I can't, for the life of me, figure out why. Is it that the good that Michael did outweighs the bad that he accused of doing (and most likely did do)? How bad does a bad act have to be before we say that a person's evils cancel out whatever good that the do? Ok, let's think up a thought experiment. Let's say that Michael Jackson did molest children. First point: as far as criminals go, a molester is a hands-on kind of pervert. He can't say that his act was unintentional of that he accidentally put his mouth and hands (and possibly his penis) where it shouldn't go on a person under the age of consent. We'll all agree that this is super-inappropriate. But, we say, Michael brought us joy. He contributed to more charities than any other musical performer, he did "Thriller" for goodness sakes! (fun fact: So-called "shock rocker" Marilyn Manson says that he stole all of his moves from Michael Jackson. He says if you don't believe him, watch the video for "Thriller" and then watch his moves. Exactly the same!) Can we say that Michael's talent and spreading of joy to the world mitigates what he did to a handfull of kids? If we say (as one very mixed up utilitarian might) that the answer is yes, then let's take someone else and see if we still feel the same. How about Hitler? One, philosophers, although they are reluctant to admit to this fact, love Hitler. He's the ultimate go-to guy for any thought experiment. A friend and I thought that it would be a good idea to set up a shrine for good old A since philosophers rely on him so much. In hindsight that would have been a really bad idea. Ok, let's say that Hitler was a really good artist. Really good. (he wasn't but that's besides the point. He was better than I am anyway). But let's pump him up a little. Let's add that he was a totally awsome woodworksman and cabinetmaker. Good old A could build a chifforobe that can withstand a hurricane. And let's say, since he loved animals so much, that he was working on a parvo vaccine. And since his own childhood was so dreadfully unhappy, let's say that he devoted his spare time (when he wasn't plotting the final solution) to advancing what we now call child advocacy. Given such a people-oriented Hitler, is it possible that the fact that he invented World War II be overlooked? Kant says that when we perform an act, our intent determines the rightness or wrongness of the act. So, for example, if I give to poor people, but I do it, not out of my duty to serve the needs of others, but out of my need to serve my own narcissistic desires (pats on the back, being told that I'm such a great humanitarian, civic awards that I'll brag about, guest spot on Oprah), no matter how many homeless people benefit, my act was never morally right. But the intent behind my act to be judged pertains to that act. I know that for Kant, what motivates my actions is GOOD WILL. For Kant, having a good will inclines a person to perform morally right acts. The logic is, is that if my will is good, I will do right things, as my actions are a reflection of my character. Kant would say that if the intent behind my act was ill, no matter the consequence, my act was morally wrong. But if the moral value of an act is tied to intent, if our intent behnd the act is good, then a watercolor cityscape by Hitler, or his creating the first effective parvo vaccine is good -- they stand apart from Hitler himself. Still, if we speculate that Michael Jackson did not intend to do harm to any child, but by having sexual contact with them, wanted to show them how much he loved and cared for them, how are we to judge the rightness or wrongness of an act if the intent was to show genuine love for another person? But somehow this still sounds strange to us. Because our feeling is still that someone like Hitler, even if he did do good, deserves condemnation, and that we'd have a difficulty separating the acts from the man ( or that we won't take his actions in total, as opposed to individually). But, does this mean that we cannot appreciate Michael Jackson's music in light of the molestation allegations? Does the bad extend to taint something that is unrelated to his sexual behavior? Wait, he grabbed his crotch when he sang, right? What was up with that? Do we, as they say, throw the baby out with the bathwater? If we do, does than mean that Jackson's music (and the fact that so many people were positively affected by his music) is morally unpraiseworthy? Would it be morally wrong for me to own a gate-leg table made by Hitler or to own a copy of Blood On the Dancefloor? Are our all of actions all morally connected? If I say that it is ok to own Michael Jackson cds even though he is a child molester, yet say that someone who owns a painting by Hitler is morally wrong for doing so, how do I defend myself against charges of inconsistency? Honestly, I don't know how this works out. All I know is that so long as I don't know, I'll still feel a little odd listening to Off the Wall. So I'll have to do it with headphones on.

"We don't want people wandering in when we're bopping perverts": On Kant's Theory of Retributive Justice As Demonstrated In Paul Bartel's Eating Raoul

A, if not THE big question in Plato's Republic is "what is justice?". This is one of those easily asked, but not so easily answered questions. Kind of like asking which one is better, Alien or Aliens? In Republic, Thrasymachus says justice is might makes right. When I was doing the Christian thing, justice is saved for God, who doles it out on the Day of Judgment -- each is saved or condemned according to his faith. Still others, like John Rawls, say that justice is a matter of fairness. Of course when we think about justice, what we're thinking about is punishment. what is the proper punishment for wrongdoing? Moreover, are there people who have certain kinds of punishment coming to them? A punishment like, say, the death penalty? One objection to the death penalty is that death as a method of punishment is not justice, but vengeance. Justice, the objectors say,has nothing to do with revenge. Those who support punishment by death may say, it is not mere vengence than plays a role in the punishment (although it is a part), but to punish someone by taking their life is merely returning the favor. This is what, I think we're getting at when we demand an eye for an eye. It's not revenge, it's retribution. Ok, semantics alert: I realize that the words 'revenge' and 'retribution' are synonyms. I argue that, in everyday usage, we tend to treat them as two differing concepts. Revenge, as we use it, is more connected to the notion of a vigilante or someone who exacts vengeance without regard for the legality of their actions. For instance, a man whose daughter is raped may exact revenge on the man accused by removing his manhood, shooting him several times with a high calibre firearm, and then dumping his body in a shallow grave. He does not care that he has committed murder (among several other crimes). He wants to inflict as much -- if not more pain on the rapist as was inflicted on his daughter. To many, revenge suggests arbitrariness. Whether we inflict pain or how much depends entirely on the person doing the revenging. The person committing the revenge is willing to do anything to anyone in pursuit of exacting their pound of flesh. On the other hand, when we think of retribution, we tend to think of something like vengeance on the part of some higher judge or authority, as in the idea of divine retribution. God tells you exactly what is going to happen to you if you do bad. For any unrepentant sin, you burn in Hell. It's not personal or arbitrary, it's just what the punishment is. So back to our story. Retribution, according to Random House Dictionary, is (def 1) "requittal according to merits or deserts, esp. for evil". So, on this point of view, punishment is not excessive or arbitrary -- it's not done to inflict pain -- we do it because the wrongdoer deserves it. This is exactly what Immanuel Kant suggests in his theory of retributive justice. Kant says that a rational individual who commits a crime that harms another individual ought to be harmed in return. Kant's reasoning is based on the notion that a rational individual who chooses their actions deserves to be respected (as a rational moral agent -- individuals who possess a free mind and are capable of deciding their actions according to their own free will) and that punishment for their harmful deeds is, in actuality, a means of respecting the freely, rationally-chosen actions of the individual who is punished. We must respect the choices of other rational actors, Kant tells us. According to Kant 1) people should be punished for no other reasons than the fact that they have committed a crime, and 2) punishments must be in proportion to their crime -- small punishments for small crimes, big punishments for big crimes. Oftentimes, satire offers us an opportunity to see philosophy at work ( I guess I'd give a plug to Orwell's Animal Farm, Swift's "A Modest Proposal", and the films of Monty Python. Watch and read). Given this opportunity, I ask this question: is cannibalism an adequate punishment for murder? Before anyone answers no, what if I add that the cannibalee is a murdering thief? This thief, in addition to murder, steals another man's wife, tries to kill that man, and supplies a local dog food factory with the bodies of murdered perverts, would that change anyone's mind? The thief in question is Raoul Mendoza, played by Robert Beltran (who is probably better known for his role on Star Trek: Voyager. Well, better known by Star Trek geeks, anyway) in the late Paul Bartel's 1982 comedy Eating Raoul (Bartel also directed Death Race 2000, which I highly recommend. Not only is it a damn fine movie, you also get to see a pre-Love Boat, and future Republican congressman Fred Grandy's ass, which may be a bonus for some folks out there). Described by the tagline as a "Comedy of bad manners", the plot goes something like this: Paul and Mary Bland (played by Bartel and Mary Woronov) want to open a restaurant , but don't have enough money to do so. After clubbing a swinger on the head with a frying pan (while he attempts to rape Mary), the couple discover that the swinger has a large amount of cash in his wallet. The couple soon discover that alot of swingers are loaded. The couple decided that they can not only rid the world of "horrible, sex-crazed maniacs", but also make enough money to open their dream restaurant (which they want to call "Paul and Mary's Country Kitchen) -- if they lure perverts to their apartment, kill them, and take their money. After he breaks in and discovers the bodies of dead perverts, the thief Raoul makes a deal with the Blands where he agrees to get rid of the bodies (by dropping them off at the local dog food manufacturing plant) in exchange for a cut of the profits. Long story short (too late), Raoul makes a move on Mary, tries to kill Paul, and ultimately ends with Raoul getting his just deserts (pun intended) as a main course served at a dinner with the Blands and their real estate agent, James. Ok, first off, we admit that it is the Blands who kill the perverts. We can say that two wrongs don't make a right, and that they are all guilty of wrongdoing. Despite their best motives, there is really no way that the Blands can excuse bopping perverts. That point is taken. The Blands are not innocents in this situation. But this fact does not mitigate the fact that Raoul's fate was an appropriate punishment for what he did. We can attempt, however, to argue in the Blands favor. Let's look at who they kill. First off, the people that they kill are perverts. They all respond to ads the Blands place in the local press that cater to perverts (unusual then, Craig's List now). At least 4 of the "sex-crazed maniacs" are maniacs. There are at least 4 attempted rapes on Mary Bland during the course of the movie. One client, played by Ed Begley,jr., is a crazed Vietnam vet who tries to rape Mary and seems quite abusive. It's easy to see that his intentions are truly malevolent. When Raoul strangles him with his love beads, it's not only ironic ( a hippy getting strangled by love beads), but the creep gets what he deserves. We can argue for Paul and Mary, but it's a bit harder to do the same for Raoul. He's really not such a nice guy. When we first see Raoul, he's leaving an apartment carrying a hi-fi system. We know that when he's passing himself off as a locksmith in the Bland's apartment, he's relly casing the place to break in later. As we get to know Raoul, we discover that he's fully capable od blackmail, and strangling a man with his own necklace. In addition, he seduces Mary and wants to kill her husband. The Blands also discover that Raoul has been keeping the profits from selling the perverts' cars from the Blands while getting a cut from what the Blands find in the perverts' wallets. Last but not least, he's selling the bodies of the perverts to be used for dog food! One could argue that this is a pretty extensive list of some pretty big crimes. And, as Kant says, big crimes call for big punishments. So, given Raoul's list of no-nos and Kant's theory, one could also argue (could being the operative word) that, by killing Raoul, the Blands are doing some version of Kant's retributive justice. If Raoul is a bad guy who is guilty of big crimes, was his death (in the manner in which he eventually ends up a meal himself) coming to him? I think that it was. Of course, one may object that revenge is never good, and that, the person doing the revenge (in this case the Blands) are in the end no better than Raoul. In Sam Raimi's Darkman, Dr. Peyton Westlake asks himself, after he's dished out some revenge killing, " what have I become?" suggesting that he has become exactly what he sought to destroy. In fighting the evil that harmed him, he had become corrupted. This is a common sentiment that many anti-heroes such as Batman or The Crow's Eric Draven wonder after they start on a path of get evenism. And, of course, when the credits roll, and we see a very happy Paul and Mary standing outside of their Country Kitchen (home of the Bland enchillada), we wonder what is in store for the couple. There is a darkness to their happiness. Afterall, they did more than kill Raoul, they ate him. But unlike Draven or Westlake or even that nutty-ass Bruce Wayne, Paul and Mary seem completely unaffected by their moral crimes. They see no wrong in what they've done. In a way, it makes the couple even more monstrous than Raoul. When Mary expresses some regret for killing Raoul, Paul quickly reminds her that Raoul got exactly what he deserved. Which is exactly, I think, what Kant would say. I believe that Kant would tell us that we are completely justified in being horrified by what the Blands have done. And the Blands should be punished appropriately. But, the fact that Raoul associated with people that were more evil than he does not mean that we should think that Raoul deserved less than what he got. Paul is right. Raoul got exactly what he deserved to get. Raoul was a pervert himself, but a pervert of a different type. Raoul had a perverted sense of morality. He stole, he committed adultery, he killed a hippie, he (gasp) smoked reefer. He was totally willing to involve himself in the business of feeding perverts to dogs. Unfortunately for Raoul, dogs aren't limited to animals who walk on all fours. Sometimes, the most fiersome dogs are ones that walk on two legs -- and occasionally, they eat us before we can eat them.

WHAT IS KANTIAN EGOISM?

I had this ethics class. The project at the end of the quarter was to defend a moral theory. That is, we were supposed to find THE True Moral Theory, and argue why it is so. At that time, I argued rule egoism, with an objective view of the good. I picked egoism, because it came as close to how I make my moral decisions. I believe that I cannot make any choice (be it moral, ontological, or epistemic) without seeing it through the prism of my self. No matter where I go, there I am. Even if I supported divine command theory, I'd still figure in there, somewhere. But, despite my firm egoism, I still had a problem. The theory seemed a bit binding. It was limited in that I wasn't always so selfish when I decided what to do. Surely my decisions were always made through the filter of me-ism, but I wasn't always such a dedicated egoist. There were always other theories creeping in. Namely, I found myself more often than I had expected, running my moral choices through Kant's Catagorical Imperative. This was disturbing to me. I was, after all, an egoist. There was no duty to others, only duty to myself. I was told that, in the interest of consistency, one could not be an egoist and a Kantian simultaneously. Doing so is about as possible as being both in Paris and Fontana at the same time. And that just ain't happening. But somehow it was. I was using what I thought were two opposing moral theories simultaneously. How was this possible? It took awhile and some getting over some denial before I realized that I was indeed both -- I am a Kantian and I am also an egoist. 18th century German philosopher Immanuel Kant wrote, in Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785), that the moral value of an act is weighed in that that action is performed from duty. We evaluate the moral value of our actions according to two principles, which Kant calls the Catagorical Imperative. Principle 1 states that we act only on a maxim that we can at the same time make universal law. Principle 2 holds that we act in such a way as not to use others as mere means for our own ends. Now, it doesn't take much useage to figure out that Kant's ethics, when actually practiced, tend to cause a complication or two. We often find ourselves tweeking the rules, which is exactly what we are not supposed to do. Kant's rules are absolute, and unbendable. Kant's theory works in ethics bowl, but it makes for trouble in the real world. Likewise, egoism also tends to, when we attempt to live as pure egoists, cause it's fair share of agony. According to Hobbes, the primary goal of all men is self preservation. Because we don't like things like pain or death, we decide to make agreements with others to cooperate with one another so as to create a more peaceful and stable society. This is Hobbes' idea of the social contract. We are motivated to do what works best to preserve our own interests. Ayn Rand wrote that men, " must live for his own sake, neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself; he must work for his rational self-interest, with the achievement of his own happiness as the highest moral purpose in life". For the egoist, our highest moral duty is when we act according to our own self-interest. *I realize how many people out there feel about Ayn Rand, and really, I agree with all of you. For using Rand to make a point, I totally, wholeheartedly apologize* But there's a word that is common to both theories -- duty. And the Kantian will admit that among our duties includes duties to self. Likewise, both theories stress the role of making rational moral decisions. At first glance, it may seem that these are conflicting moral systems. One may ask, how can one be an egoist, yet maintain Kant's C.I.? It seems that they conflict, but in fact, they do not. At this point, I think that it's important to clear up what we mean when we say "egoist". Now, The antics of Rand followers like Alan Greenspan aside, an egoist is not one who is exclusively motivated by unbridled greed. Quite the contrary, an egoist is one who merely evaluates his moral choices according to how they coincide with his rational self-interest. It is possible that when someone thinks of an egoist, what he is thinking of is an egotist -- which is someone who operates according to his primary goal of getting as much profit or pleasure as possible. The egotist is motivated purely by selfishness. An egoist knows that, in the pursuit of his own interests, he may encounter periods or situatons that may be very unpleasant. An egoist isn't so centered on his own interests that he neglects the needs of others. In fact, he may be motivated to do for others before he satisfies his own physical needs -- if he sees that by serving others he ultimately serves himself. This is how the egoist declares that despite the outward appearance of altuism, he is no altruist. For his actions are based in the service of himself. The fact that others may benefit is just a good consequence. A classic example of egoist thinking is the "prisoner's dilemma". In the arena of interantional politics, nation-states conduct their affairs according to their own best interests. The reason they do is because the govenrments of nations do not know the internal affairs of other nation-states. So, for example, during the Cold War, the United States armed itself with various sorts of nuclear missiles because we did not know what the Soviets had in their nuclear facilities (ok, I know that that's not exactly true, but it fits the example). And, this sort of way of going about things works on the macrocosmic level of nation-states. Unfortunately, it tends to be alittle difficult on the personal level. If you stockplied weapons in your garage because you don't know what kinds of guns your neighbor has, you might come off as a little nutty. It might do an egoist some good if he adopted for himself as an overriding moral principle something like this: in the pursuit of my own self-interest, I will live according to 1) do not engage in any act or act according to any maxim that I cannot also universalize, and 2) do not use others as a mere means to my own ends. Of course, this is easily recognized as Kant's Catagorical Imperative. My motivation, I add, is if I live according to these two principles, I am less likely to get my ass kicked. In this way, my duties to self and to others is not limited in the way that Kant's ethics are often binding in the real world, in that among my considerations I include consequences to myself. My ethical position recognizes that in the real world, it is difficult to live purely according to one set of moral principles. We often find ourselves operating according to multiple theories, sometimes simultaneously. Few of us are strict utilitarians or unshakable moral relativists. Often we find ourselves splitting the difference between moral theories -- taking the elements from each that allows us to decide what to do. What I am doing is not "shopping" for moral theories, but finding where seeming opposing theories cohere and allow me to make rational moral decisions that benefit others any (more importantly) benefit myself. My ethical position simply finds the workable parts of Kantianism and egoism and binds them together into a more practicable moral theory (than any one is on their own). Hence, I call myself a kantian egoist, or an egoist with a Kantian view of the good. Now that I'm thinking of it, this all stinks of intuitionism.

On the Question of Intent and the Illusion of Altruism

No matter how hard I try, I keep coming back to the idea of intent and morality. What is it that really motivates our actions? How are our intentions connected to our actions? Can a morally wrong act be a good thing, or conversely, can something good be wrong? It's easy to think about intent when we think of classic "thought experiment" cases like murder or genocide. With few exceptions, there are very few people who would be on board for carrying out whole-scale or even small-scale murder. There are those cases where we have some difficulty deciding how to act -- for instance, whether we should blast a fat man to kingdom come if he has wedged his body in front of the only exit. We might have some difficulty when we say we must blow him up to save the lives of others. But then, there are those instances when we might think that the morally right thing to do is the worst thing to do. It's especially difficult when we are not exactly sure of what our own intentions are in the matter. Is there ever a time when a moral wrong is ok? Are there times when our intentions may be bad but they are really good? It's easy to calculate the moral wrong of something like murder. Even the egoist has to say that it's wrong, even if it does not directly affect him ( he might have to say something like, I disapprove of murder because it makes the city where I live look bad, and that makes me sad). But what about an act with a little moral ambiguity. Let's take adultery. Now, first off, we're pushing the Christians out of the room, they're no fun in this game. They tent to count everything as a moral wrong. Second, let's decide which moral theory that we'd like to use first. Personally, I'm quite partial to Kantian ethics, so I'll start there. Kant's great moral theory is expressed through his Catagorical Imperative (C.I.). At first glance, it seems that by applying the principles of Kant's moral theory, sexual impropriety is a no-no. But let's look a little closer. Let's look at an example: I'm assuming that many philosophers would not admit to watching, let alone enjoying pornography. There's not much in the way of deep thinking in your garden variety skin flick (there's alot of other deep stuff going on, but it ain't what you'd call thinking). Back in the 1970s, when adult films were coming (no pun intended) into the mainstream, some filmmakers attempted to create "real" cinema. That is, some pornographers had in mind to make movies that a mature adult audience would see at the local cineplex. You'd take out the wife to see a double bill of Barbara Broadcast and Smokey and the Bandit. Or so it was assumed that's what people would do. One of these "adult" films was The Private Afternoons of Pamela Mann directed by Henry Paris (by the way, watchers of so-called "soft-core" films may be aware of the fact that Henry paris is also known as Radley Metzger. As Radley Metzger, he directed the movie Carmen, Baby. I only mention this fact because Carmen, Baby contains a scene that, once you've seen it, you will never think of wine bottles the same). Where was I? Oh yes. So, luckily for filmgoers looking to arouse their prurient interests, porn plots are fairly uncomplicated. This film is no exception. It goes like this: man has cheating wife. Man hires private dick (ha, ha) to follow wife. Wife seduces P.I. Detective removes himself from the case because he feels (get this) guilty for betraying his employer's trust (although he doesn't admit to the real reason why he quits). When all's said and done, we learn that it's all been a set-up. Man and wife actually do this to get their rocks off. As they wish each other a happy anniversary, the curtain falls (literally) on the post-coital couple. Now, let's throw out the fact that sex is supposed to be inherently dirty and morally wrong. Let's run it through Kant's C.I. First, we ask, would we want to universalize the act that the Mann's did in the movie? Well, they might answer yes. In fact, if we take Kant's declaration that we must first and foremost act from duty as our dominant principle, Mr. and Mrs. Mann may suggerst that they did act out of duty to each other. If couples did as they do, they might reason, their marriages may actually be better off. Ok. Let's move on. Second, we ask, did anyone get used as a mere means to their end? We might answer yes, the P.I. did. But wait, let's look at the private detective. He knew that he was following a married woman. He was hired by her husband. He knew what she was up to, namely sharing her virtue with anyone within a five mile radius of her person. So, when she seduces him, was he really used as a mere means? It seems that the detective wasn't so much used as the pair decided to use each other. The act was mutually beneficial to both. No one got any more out of the act than the other. When the detective regigns from the job, he does not tell Mr. Mann why he is leaving the case. He merely states that "something came up" (I think that pun was intended). He evades the real reason for his leaving because he felt that what he did was morally suspect. And lastly, no one got hurt! At the end of the movie, everyone is happy. This not only checks out for the Kantian, but for the utilitarian, and (especially) the egoist as well. Ok, the Christians still have a problem with the whole adultery thing. So let's ditch the porn. I've gone through how a seemingly bad act can be good, or at least not as bad as it may seem. But, what about so-called morally good acts? Can they be hiding a hidden evil? For some strange reason, I decided to watch Superman Returns the other day (maybe it has to do with finding Kevin Spacey oddly attractive. Whatever), and watching that made me want to watch the far-superior Superman: the Movie starring the late Christopher Reeve as the Man of Steel. Why they tried to make that dude in Superman Returns act like Christopher Reeve, I don't know. I mean really, they didn't get some chick who looked like Margot Kidder! But then, we all know why they didn't, don't we? Anyway, In the movie, Lois is killed during an earthquake, which is caused by a missile detonating in the San Andreas fault. As Superman stands over her dead body, he suddenly screams to the heavens and darts up straight into the sky. He is confronted by the ghost of his father, who seems to know exactly what he is going to do, who reminds his so that it is forbidden to interfere with human history. But Superman won't have any of this forbidden business. He spins around the earth, making it reverse it's spin, thus reversing history and allowing him to go back in time, thwart the missile, and save Lois from death ( he did what Anakin Skywalker could only dream of doing for Padme). By the way, can that really cause an earthquake? Superman not only saves Lois, but he saves some kids on the Golden Gate Bridge from tumbling over the side in their bus, he stops up a dam from flodding a community and all sorts of other good stuff. It all sounds good. It sounds altruistic. But is it so? On the surface, Superman's actions check out pretty much according to every moral theory. But when we check out his true intentions, his actions are suddenly morally suspect. Ok, let's say that when we ask Superman why he did it, he says that he has a duty to sav humanity. Ok. That sounds just fine. but the Randian in me (and really, I like to keep her bound and gagged at all times) is saying, no. His duty was not to mankind. He's doing it to get something. Superman is motivated by his want to fufill his own self-interest, not to serve the needs of mankind. When he arrived in Metropolis, it shifted from something to someone -- Lois. We might suspect that had Lois lived, he wouldn't have gotten so riled up over all that destruction. He probably would have saved as many lives as he could, but would not have defied his own father to save any one person in particular. Superman reversed time to save Lois, pure and simple. His motivation towards saving her wasn't duty -- it was that he wanted to do to Lois what he eventually did do to Lois in Superman II (that is, he pulled a private detective on her). Like the Mann's, Superman may try to sneak duty past us when he explains to us why he saves people. But this is just not so. His goal is to get Lois. If you want to get really dark about things, you can say that the entire state of California served as a mere means to his getting Lois -- an act which puts Superman's morality right along side of a typical character you'd find in your average smut flick (in fact, this would make a terrific plot. Superhero saves lady. Lady feels need to shower with equally hot roommate. Cable guy shows up...). Let's not forget the fact that the utilitarian can say that Superman's supposed altruistic act caused more harm than good. By diverting the missile and letting it explode in outer space, Superman shattered the phantom zone, thus releasing General Zod and his equally evil companions to take their revenge against Superman's father out on the citizens of earth. Superman merely swapped one evil for a greater evil. Instead of Lois dying or just the people of California in danger, Superman endangered the entire planet when Zod and his two cohorts were released from captivity. When all's said and done, Superman's acts only have the veneer of good deeds, but deep down, they're truly evil. Which makes me think that this is why, when I think of what I do in the real world, my decisions are not so cut and dry. I find that, despite my disappointment in admitting as much, I am far too often a Superman. All of my seemingly selfless acts stink of ulterior motives and hidden wants and desires. I used to think that watching movies and TV was nothing more than brain candy, stuff that, instead of being a useful tool to sort out my own thoughts, sucked my thoughts away and made me into a passive participant. Not so. I think, and I think that it's not just me on this one, when we watch TV or movies or play video games, we can just sit back and consume. Or, we can look with a careful eye, watching the moments and situations that should and can help us to sort out our own lives. Heck, if I can learn in two hours while watching a movie what takes ten weeks sitting in a classroom listening to often boring lectures -- which one would anyone rather choose?

Bad/Good Will Revisited

I'm a fan of classic horror flicks. In particular, I'm a fan of the gimmicky films of William Castle. For those who don't know, William Castle brought to us some of the most fantastic schlock (said in a complelely good way) films of the late 50s and early 60s ever brought to the theater house or drive-in. Castle's films include The Tingler, Macabre, 13 Ghosts, Mr. Sardonicus, Zotz!, Rosemary's Baby, and my personal favorite, The House on Haunted Hill relased in 1958. If one is inclined to simply watch movies and not have to think beyond the urge to take the occasional pee break, William Castle's movies totally satisfy that need for a fix. The cool thing is, is that beyond providing mindless entertainment, William Castle's movies often have an undercurrent of something philosophical. And since so much of the horror genre deals with evil-doing, much of the subtext in Castle's films is ethical. The House on Haunted Hill is no exception. The plot of the movie is pretty simple, there's this awfully rich fellow named Frederick Loren (played by Vincent Price -- you can't go wrong there!). Loren invites a group of not-so-rich guests to his house for a haunted house party. The five individuals that are told that, if they can spend a night in Loren's haunted house, he will give them $10, 000. The trick, Loren knows, is that his guests' chances for success are fairly slim, given that the house is abound with kiler ghosts. Each of Loren's guests accept his invitation because each needs the $10,000. So, as the film opens, Loren's guests make their way to the haunted mansion on the hill. The ethical question here is obvious. Loren's intentions are clearly in the wrong. not only is he exploiting the needs of his guests, but inaddition, he plans to kill his wife. At first glance it seems that Loren is a moral criminal, not to mention a would-be murderer. But, is that so clear once we look a little closer at the situation? First. let's throw out the Loren wanting to murder his wife bit. Murder, even if your wife is a total b, is always wrong. Even if we all think the dame deserves to die ( Loren's wife is, afterall, carrying on an affair with some dude named Trent) we can't justify killing her. But, that leaves Loren's challenge to his guests. If they spend a night in the house, they get money. Sounds like a fairly even exchange. We enter into this same type of exchange all the time. Some people work for pay, kids do chores for money, we pay for overpriced tickets to see our favorite band in concert, etc. Most of the time, the exchange of money for services rendered is non-exploitive. Morally, this is absolutely OK. Kant's Categorical Imperative (which I will refer to as C.I.) includes two principles by which we should (or is it must?) judge the rightness of our actions. Kant's first principle states that we act only on a maxim that we at the same time can make universal. That is, before we act, we ask, should everyone do this? For instance, if I wanted to steal an unguarded iphone sitting on a desk, I should ask, would I want everyone to do this? Would I have for a moral rule "if an iphone is unguarded, it is morally right to steal it"? The answer in this case is obviously no. I wouldn't want that for a maxim to be obeyed by everyone. Kant's second principle holds that we must treat other people as ends in themselves, not as mere means to our own ends. According to Kant's second principle, I cannot use others to further my own goals. So, if I decided to take philosophy classes because, no wait, bad example. If I make friends with Dante's mom because she has lots of spare cash floating around, and I really don't like her, but I enjoy the perks of her "friendship", then , according to Kant, I am morally wrong because I am using someone to further my own ends -- namely the fact that someone is spending their money to satisfy my wants. Kant's categorical imperative deals with absolute moral obligations (as opposed to hypothetical imperatives, which are binding on a person so long as that person desires to fuflil some result or end. For instance, if I want to lose weight, I have to diet and exercise. I'm only bound to diet and exercise so long as my end). As I noted, in the case of Frederick Loren, the situation seems to smack of exploitation. The people Loren invites need the $10,000, and they will do anything, including risking their own lives, to get it. But that's just it. Both sides are in it to get something. Loren's guests want Loren's money just as much as Loren may be inclined to exploit them. They are willing to do anything, even risk their own lives to get it. So here's my question: what does Kant say about mutually exploitive acts? Every one of Loren's guests wanted something (and that Trent guy wanted Loren's wife as well). They went to Loren's haunted house party knowing that there was a chance that they might not make the night. So let's look at Loren's "party" according to Kant's first principle of the C.I. Let's say that Loren constructs his maxim as such: "If you want to invite a group of people to your haunted house, be sure to offer them a large sum of money as to compensate them (or their heirs, if necessary) if anything bad should happen to them". That sounds fair. If Loren constructs his maxim that way, it seems that it has a whiff of fairness to it. I don't think anyone would be offended by this maxim. But, Loren thinks about his maxim. There's something wrong with it. It's not quite complete. So he reformulates it by adding a clause to protect him from those who accuse his maxim of exploitation. Loren adds: "If you want to invite a group of people to your haunted house, be sure that they are well-informed that the house is haunted and that the ghosts are dangerous, and be sure to offer them a large sum of money as to compensate them (or their heirs, if necessary) if anything bad should happen to them". I think, that, if Loren use this as his maxim, he's in the moral clear. Loren adds, they are getiting something from me as well, so it's not just me who is benefitting in this situation. With Loren in the clear on principle one, let's move on to the second principle. Kant's second principle states that we cannot use others as a mere means to our own ends. This means we cannot use others by way of coersion, manipulation, exploitation, force, etc. Kant's C.I. requires that we respect the dignity and autonomy of an individual to make rational moral choices for himself. If we are to make autonomous moral choices, we must enter into our decisions well-informed and free of coersion or manipulation. If we do not, then our choices were not rendered autonomously. It seems that Loren's guests entered into the agreement (an overnight stay for money) freely and knowingly. Loren's guests know that the house they will spend the night in is haunted. They know that they will get $10,000 if they spend an entire night there. They accepted Loren's invite and intend to leave the mansion $10,000 richer. So, Loren may say, so what if they all need the money, they all agreed to be here. If I, Frederick Loren, was to say anything about the matter, I'd say that they agreed to be exploited! So, Loren has thrown his opinion into the ring, and said that his guests agreed to be exploited. So now we ask, can a person agree to be exploited? Kant would say no. In this situation (and others similar to it -- like when a woman who works as a "dancer" says that she's not doing degrading work, but at least "gets paid" -- that's what Dante's mom says, anyway), the fact that both parties agree to the act doesn't make the act morally right. As the old saying goes, "two wrongs don't make a right". And this is what Kant thinks as well. Even if Loren says that his guests agreed to spend the night in his house, the situation still stinks of exploitation. Loren argues that his guests were getting paid for their stay -- but the fact is, is that Loren invited people who needed the money, not merely wanted it. They were willing to engage in a extreme act that they most likely would not have done if their situations were not so dire. In a sense, they were not free to do otherwise. The fact that their acceptances to Loren's challenge was made out of desperation, meant that their decision was not a truly autonomous decision. The offering of money was a form of coersion. But, wait, Loren cries -- they could have freely left the house at any time. They weren't forced to spend the entire night! True, but, we can say that the lure of money was so great (not to mention not seeming like a wuss) that they could not leave. Loren knew that, once he suggested that his guests were total wusses if they left, no one would leave. So he's still in the moral wrong. Loren can't say that this situation was excusable because his guests decided to attend his party. Kant's C.I. wants us to seek out moral rules that are universal. The categorical imperative requires that we consider all in our moral sphere, not merely the five people that we invite to our haunted house party. In this situation, Loren's guests may benefit, but we (collectively) lose. So, it seems that Loren's maxim wasn't universalizable, no matter how many clauses we add, we can't morally justify exploitation -- even if the exploitation is mutual. Our moral universe requires that we create rules that aren't just useful for throwing haunted slumber parties, but useful for everyone who is affected by our actions. For Kant, that "everyone" isn't limited to the people that we know, but covers everyone at all times in all places (including planets where soul-sucking botanists dwell). If we deny someone the right to do otherwise, even if we inform themof all the risks, we aren't respecting their ability to make rational moral choices -- which is exactly what Frederick Loren did in The House on Haunted Hill. In picking people who needed the money, no matter how well informed his guests were, no matter if they didn't leave after he informed them that they could, Loren used them as a means to his own ends, and deprived them of the respect that being a morally autonomous being requires. And because of that, Frederick Loren violates the principles of Kant's categorical imperative. And, let's not forget, the guy wanted to kill his wife!

Intergalactic Botanists Will Swallow Your Soul

To rid myself of that Murray Head song "One Night In Bangkok", I decided that I would do a little bit of TV watchin'. I was in a kind-of 1980s, Cold War-era flicks mood, so I started the night by watching a little bit of Red Dawn. I breezed through Wargames, and was lamenting the fact that I didn't have Gotcha! on DVD. I was listening to "99 Luft Balloons" and was trying to remember which 80s compilation CD had "Der Kommissar" on it, when I glanced over at my DVD shelf and spotted ET. ET: the Extra-Terrestrial is perhaps the film of my generation. Who could not like the story of the lovable, non-threatening little alien from a billion light years away? And given the fact that the year ET was released, 1982, saw the release of a decidedly un-friendly alien movie, John Carpenter's remake of The Thing, it's easy to see why people flocked to see the cuddlier alien movie. For what it's worth, I like The Thing. I'm assuming that everyone with eyes that see and ears that hear has either seen or heard about this movie. But, if you haven't: a well-meaning, adorable, intergalactic horticulturist gets so caught up in looking at the local earth fauna that his ride home ditches him. The newly homeless fellow stumbles upon a nice suburban family (who are neither afraid of falling victim to a face-hugger nor worried about their new alien friend subjecting them to the time-honored alien tradition of probing), he squats for awhile with the middle child of the family, a boy named Elliott. Eventually the celestial traveler and his young companion jimmy up a subspace communication device and ET's peeps swing back 'round to pick him up. All's well that ends well. Some people see a heart-warming tale of the power of love and friendship. Others see a parable (or is it allegory?) of the story of Christ. Me, I see one of the worst moral offenders in film history. Assuming that the ethics of 18th century philosopher Immanuel Kant apply to visiting aliens, this little bundle of interstellar joy has some explaining to do about his behavior. Kant's moral philosophy is primarily concerned with two objectives: 1) moral principles that have universal applicability, and 2) our acts are performed from obligation -- no matter the consequences. The first formulation of Kant's categorical imperative states that we undertake no act that cannot at the same time be made universal law (or something like that). The way I see it, this one isn't really a problem. Well, not yet. It's Kant's second formulation that has my finger pointing at this so-called friend to all children. Kant's second formulation of the categorical imperative holds that we are to treat others as ends in themselves, that is, we are not to use others are a mere means to our own ends. So, say I want to rob a bank. I don't have a car, but you do. I ask you to drive me over to the bank while I step in to go take care of some "things". While I'm in the bank, I knock over the joint. I didn't tell you why I was going or what I was going to do once I got there. I merely used you for your car. So, according to Kant's second formulation of the categorical imperative, I have used you as a mere means to my ends. And that's morally wrong. And that, using Elliott as a mere means to his ends, is precisely what that alien did. A test for whether we are being used as someone else's means to their ends is whether we have entered into an agreement with that person freely and knowingly (meaning we weren't coerced or forced). Now I know, you say that it was Elliott who pursued ET. This is true. He did lure ET into his house with Reece's Pieces. And Elliott did assume responsibility for the alien. But, I think that Elliott did this unaware of what assuming responsibility for ET fully meant. What ET did, was not allowing Elliott to take care of him -- he literally bonded his life to Elliott's! Maybe there's another version of the movie where ET sits Elliott down and explains what "taking responsibility" means where he comes from; but I doubt that, in Elliott's mind, that "responsibility" meant feeling hunger when ET was hungry, or feeling sleepy when ET was sleepy. Nor do I think that Elliott signed on to experience drunkenness when ET decided to go on a bender, or to sexually assault a female classmate under ET's mind control. Worse yet, ET's life bonding nearly killed Elliott when ET decided that I was better to die than to live in earth (real subtle, Spielberg!). Not to mention, that Elliott was, what? Twelve at the most? Could a child of that age really have made a competent decision to endanger the lives of himself and his family and have his house ransacked by the feds all in an effort to make a phone call?!? I think not! I think that even Kant had a point where a kid is too young to make decisions that no only affect him, but the universe as a whole. And while we're at it, I don't think that back on ET's planet that they would have welcomed such an interruption of their lives. I don't think that almost getting a kid shot by an FBI guy (yes, I'm using the original theatrical release) is something that we want to say is universalable. Some people watch ET and see a movie that they want to share with their childern and their grandchildren. I see a movie I'd only show to a kid that I didn't like (which reminds me, I think that I'll invite that Dante over for popcorn and some DVDs).

I Usually Don't Ask Open-Ended Questions, Because I Usually Have All the Answers

Kant opens the first section of his Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals with the statement: "Nothing in the world -- indeed nothing even beyond the world -- can possibly be conceived which could be called good without qualification except a GOOD WILL". Kant says that there are qualities that may be good and desirable (intelligence, courage, resoluteness, etc.), but these qualities can be bad if they are not accompanied by a good will. A good will, according to Kant, corrects the influences on the mind. Kant states that the will is good, not because of what effects follow from having a good will, but because the good is intrinsically good or good in itself. For Kant, all moral decisions are emanate from a sense of duty, and our sense of duty contains good will. I know that this question might seem like it has an obvious answer, and I used to think so myself, but what is a bad will? I know that what I just asked is one of those questions that scream out "duh", like asking someone who steps into the room soaking wet, shaking off an umbrella if it's raining outside. Or hearing the dude next to you stomach growl, and asking him,"hungry, eh?". It's pretty easy when someone's intent is fairly obvious, like when some dude carrying a pike, covered in blood, wearing an "I H8 Philosophy Professors" T-shirt asks where the philosophy department is. It dosen't take a stroke of genius to figure out the the guy's intent is to do some harm -- especially when it's nowhere near April Fool's Day and it's not Halloween. There is the bad will that we can see -- the murderer, the thief, the starlet intent on launching a music career. But some will is what we might call ambiguous. What do we do when the intent of the will is not so clear? I thought of sticking a personal situation in right here about something that I did that I'm still not sure as to whether my will in this situation was good or bad. (Take your guesses everybody) But since I've thought it over, I decided that I would save myself the embarassment ( not to mention any possible bridge burning) and grab an example from my collection of DVDs. About a year ago, I was made familiar with a website called selectsmart. The point of this website is to spend hours taking surveys to figure out what kind of whatever you are. They should call this website hours from your life. So, instead of studying philosophy, I was taking this survey on which horror movie protagonist I'm most like. Much to my delight, I'm like the character Dr. Herbert West from the movie Re-Animator, which just happens to be my favorite horror movie. Talk about serendipity. To those who are not familiar with the Stuart Gordon classic Re-Animator, here's the plot in a nutshell: a couple of med students at Miskatonic University discover the secret for re-animating dead people. They decide to see if it works by testing it on a cat named Rufus and then on the cadavers in the pathology ward. All hell breaks loose when one of the students beheads a professor, reanimates the professor's head and body, and eventually lands himself in a fantastic battle royale with the professor's intestines. Now that I'm done with the plot. In the film, Herbert West discovers the key to reanimation, which, in and of itself, isn't bad. You might say that someone who makes such a discovery is motivated by good will. If we can cheat death, think of all that land we'd be saving from becoming cemetaries. We could put WalMarts up everywhere! Ok, and a few Trader Joes. And it seems that, at first, Herbert is intent on making genuine medical progress. But, somewhere that same intent loses it's good-willish patina and takes a turn for the bad. We know that when Herbert kills Dr. Hill, he is motivated by a bad will. He wants to kill Hill because Dr. Hill is in his way. That's easy. And when the bodies start piling up, including the dean of the university and Dan's girlfriend Meg, we need not consult the utlitarian calculus to figure out that Herbert's quest to revive the dead was bad. But there it goes again. We can say that what Herbert West did was inherently bad, but how was it so? At what point did West's intent turn from good to bad? Since Kant tells us we cannot rely on consequences, we cannot point to the pile of dead bodies as evidence of Herbert's bad will. But we know that, perhaps on some intuitive level, Herbert's intent had changed -- although it stayed the same. I realize that what I'm saying might sound like a little bit of goobledygook here. And there's a reason for that. It's because there are times when someone's intent may be the same, but somehow the intent may seem to be aimed at doing more harm than good. What makes things worse, is the fact that, in addition to not being able to pin down how a good intent can become bad, we may not be aware that our own will is bad. We may be operating under the supposition (delusion) that our own intentions are good. But how do we know what a bad will is, or when our own will is bad? The question is not so much what constitutes a bad will than how do we know what a bad will is? Perhaps the issue of whether a person's will is good or bad is as much an epistemic question than an ethical consideration. And that's where I land my open-ended question. I'd like to know what the answer is, because honestly I have no idea.

Scottish People Scare Me: On A Good Reason Why I Ain't Ever Goin' To Scotland Or, A Problem Of Conflicting Moralities In "The Wicker Man"

Police Sergeant Howie flies off to a remote Scottish isle to investigate the disappearance of a young girl. During his investigation, he finds that the natives of the quiet Scottish hamlet are a bit more than odd -- they're pagans! What follows during the next 90 minutes is public group sex, people spontaneously breaking out into song, nude women crying in grave yards, schoolchildren singing odes to phallic symbols, naked flashdancing, foreskins in jars -- ultimately culminating in Sgt. Howie being roasted alive in a giant rattan action figure (so the crops will grow). Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is The Wicker Man. This gem from 1973, starring Edward Woodward, bears the rare distinction of being the only movie in film history that Rod Stewart tried to get banned -- and not because it's a bad movie. It all has to do with Britt Ekland and some dancing.... Anyway, Sgt. Howie, played by Woodward, is sent to investigate the disappearance of a young girl named Rowan Morrison. When Sgt. Howie arrives, he is met by several locals who, besides being confoundedly stupid, insist that the girl is not a resident of the island. They've never heard of her, they say. But Howie is as nosy as he is persistent, and he continues to search for young Rowan, despite the fact that everyone on the island, including the woman who is Rowan's alleged mother, claims that they do not know the girl. As Howie searches for the missing girl, he finds that the residents of Summerisle are pagans who worship the old gods and reject Christianity (this fact offends Howie, who is a Christian). Howie begins to suspect that the island's May Day ritual may be more than mere re-enactment, but a full-scale human sacrifice made to appease the gods. Howie suspects that Rowan is not missing, but intended to be the isle's offering. After a game of cat and mouse (I really hate that cliche), Howie finds that it is he who is the intended sacrifice, and he is given up to the gods -- burned alive inside the Wicker Man. The Film's protagonist, Sgt. Howie, is a Christian. Howie, as a modern man thrown into the strange world of paganism, is intended to represent the audience. The audience, meanig us, and Howie are products of Christendom. We've been raised with, whether we've accepted Christianity or not, Christian morality. Our collective Christian sensibilities tell us that paganism, in particular, pagan practices that call for blood sacrifices, is not only a useless practice, but morally reprehensive as well. We, as well as Sgt. Howie would regard the practices on Summerisle as heathen and blasphemous according to our Christian perspective. Our God, the Christian God, as Howie proclaims, is the "true God". Howie calls the religion of Summerisle "fake", and demands to know why the children have "never heard of Jesus". As people raised with (or at least in the presence of ) the Christian faith, we can understand Howie's outrage. And we also share Howie's disgust when he discovers that the Summerislanders intend to perform ritual human sacrifice. But, the residents of Summerisle have a different point of view. When Sgt. Howie meets Lord Summerisle, played by Christopher Lee ( the first man I usually think of when I think of a Scotsman), Summerisle explains to Howie that his grandfather, in an attempt to rekindle the spirit of the people living on the island and cure them of their apathy, brought back the old gods. The people, along with the local flora, flourished. The ethic, Lord Summerisle tells Howie, is to love and fear nature, to rely on it, and to "please it when necessary". Summerisle tells Howie that the Christian God is not worshipped on his island because the Christian God failed to help the people. "He's dead," Summerisle says. He had his chance and blew it. When Howie, furious at Summerisle's unrepentant paganism proclaims that Summerisle is a pagan, Summerisle responds, " A heathen conceivably, but not I hope an unenlightened one". But Howie sees Summerisle and his people as just that -- unenlightened. They are backwards, savage, and barbaric. I guess it's alot like spending a night in Devore. Howie knows that Summerisle knows that bringing back the old gods did not make his island prosperous, but correctly using the island's volcanic soil to raise crops that would grow in that environment saved the island and its people. If Summerisle is not an unenlightened pagan, Howie knows, then certainly the people of Summerisle are, as they believe that sacrifice will please the gods and renew their harvests. As he is being led off to his date with the Wicker Man, Howie tells the islanders that burning him will not bring back their failed crops. He says that, if the crops fail again, that no sacrifice other than the Lord Summerisle himself will appease their gods. As Howie burns in the Wicker Man, he sings the Psalm of David ( Psalm 23), while the people of Summerisle, led by Summerisle, sing a triumphant pagan 'let's roast a cop in the fire' song. By the way, there really is a Summerisle located off the coast of Scotland. I'm not sure if the events depicted in the film are representative of events that actually go on there, but rest assured I'm not going there any time soon to find out. This brings us to a very important question: what are we to do when we are confronted with competing moral theories? In particular, how do we decide moral rightness when each side claims that their side is morally correct? What do we do if we have, as in this case, competing religious claims? Ok, let's take out the fact that Lord Summerisle knows that paganism is wacked. Let's say that he, and the people of the island, truly believe that performing human sacrifices will bring back their failed crops. Their gods, they believe, demand that they do. If they do not obey, they believe, the gods will get angry with them and kill their crops, causing the deaths of hundreds of people. So, let's stick Sgt. Howie in the mix. And, like the people of Summerisle, Howie believes that his religion prohibits human sacrifice. His religion, he believes, will punish those who unlawfully shed the blood of an innocent. Each claims that their religion is morally correct. Each operates from a mandate from God or their gods -- including potential punishment if each does not obey. How are we to solve the ethical dilemma? How are we to determine which side is morally correct? Is doing so possible? If there is, which ethical system can/should we appeal to to settle the difference? Usually, when we are faced with ethical dilemmas, even when we pull out the old thought experiment, we consider ethical dilemmas one theory at a time. So, for instance, if everyone in this situation were Kantians, we could easily draw some conclusion as to which side is morally correct. we might say that ritual human sacrifice is murder and that the pagans have no right, morally speaking, to perform their evil deed. Moreover, Sgt. Howie is an unwilling participant, and to sacrifice him is using him as a mere means to their end. Problem solved. We wipe off our hands, and pat ourselves on the back after winning the ethics bowl round. But we can make such an easy decision here. Each side says that it is their moral imperative to act as they do. So now what do we do? Let's look at another theory. Let's say that this time, everyone is a utilitarian. The utilitarian says that we must only act in such a way that will bring the greatest good for the greatest number. Ok. We've got Sgt. Howie on one side saying that the sacrifice won't work. The crops are going to fail, no matter what, and if they fail next year, no sacrifice other than Lord Summerisle himself will do. So, according to Howie, performing the sacrifice will be pretty bad for everyone. So, let's give benefits a plus five, and the negatives a minus twenty. According to Howie, or course. So, after hearing Howie trying to worm out of doing something beneficial, Lord Summerisle says that, if they commit the sacrifice the crops will grow, and the people will prosper. And, Summerisle explains, Howie will benefit as well. Summerisle tells Howie that he will join with the forces of the universe and sit at the right hand of the gods. And even from Howie's Christian perspective, Summerisle says, Howie benefits from having a martyr's death. So Summerisle says the benefits are all plusses -- plus twenty, plus twenty, and plus fifty for Howie. Well, this isn't working. Somehow it seems that Summerisle beats Howie. In fact, Summerisle claims that, if Howie participates, he benefits more than everyone else. Now, the obvious problem here, is these claims, like any utilitarian claim, remain speculative (at best). We don't know whose god is right. There's a chance that Summerisle's gods are the "real" gods. In that case, if we follow Howie's advice, we've done more harm than good. So, is there anything out there that can help us? We might want to abandon, at least for now, any ethical system that takes a definitive stand on rightness or wrongness. So let's try moral relativism. According to the relativist, different cultures have different standards of right and wrong (cultural relativism). From that fact we conclude -- since every culture has a different standard for right and wrong, there exists no universal standard of right and wrong. Therefore, we cannot objectively measure the rightness or wrongness of a given act. Or something like that. Well, this gets us absolutely nowhere. All a relativist can say is that Sgt. Howie has one set of morals and the people of Summerisle have another. They're both right. But unfortunately for Howie, he can't both be burned in the Wicker Man and as far away from that damned island as possible at the same time. So we're back at square one. The natives are lighting their torches and we've got to make a decision, quick. How do we decide which is morally right? Luckily for us in this case, there actually is a way to solve the dilemma. I mentioned before that we should forget that Summerisle knew that paganism is a load of poo. Well, that's our cheat. And even though we are secretly rooting for the pagans, let's face it, Howie was rude and nosy --he deserved to die, we know that Howie is dying for nothing. What makes it worse is the fact that Howie himself knows this as well. We know what the people of Summerisle do not know. We know that Summerisle knows the real reason why his grandfather brought back the old gods. And because of this, we know that sacrificing Howie is wrong. It's wrong because Summerisle is not only using Howie to further his own ends, but he is also using the people of Summerisle for his own benefit. He is relying on their ignorance ot maintain control over them. Although Summerisle claims that he loves his people, we can see that this may not be the case. He loves ruling over them. He enjoys manipulating Sgt. Howie into falling prey to his plan to use him as a sacrifice ( notice that he did not use one of the island's natives but a mainlander). In this case, unlike so many we see in the real world, it is easy to tell. The sacrifice is wrong. Thank the pagan gods that screenwriters make it all so easy.