Another interesting juxtaposition of counterpart stories involving objects.

1.            Mohandas K. Gandhi evidently owned only five physical possessions: his steel-framed spectacles, a pair of sandals, a bowl, a plate and a pocket watch.  A Los Angeles filmmaker and peace activist named James Otis somehow came to own them and today he auctioned them off for $1.8 million.  Sulzberger, A. & Chan, S. (2009, Mar. 6).  “Despite Outcry, Gandhi Items Sell for $1.8 Million.”  New York Times.  Ironic indeed that Gandhi’s meager artifacts would sell for such a large sum when he eschewed all forms of materialism. 

2.            Then there’s Michael Jackson.  He filed suit today to recover various items of memorabilia he contends were stolen from him, including his famous left-hand glove, the entry gates to his Neverland Ranch, dozens of child statues, luxury cars, and nearly 2,000 other things.  Colker, D. (2009, Mar. 5). “Michael Jackson sues to get memorabilia back.”  Los Angeles Times.  I would not be surprised if he had pledged these as collateral for a loan, defaulted, and now the lender has foreclosed.  It will be interesting to see how much this ephemera brings at sale.  Which will be worth more – Gandhi’s rice bowl, or Jackson’s glove? 

This is the first in a series of hopefully interesting discussions about objects.  Objects are things.  They can be broken down into two categories: tools and objects per se.  Tools are equipment or implements.  They help us to achieve an objective or bring about a result.  They can be evaluated in terms of functionality – whether they work to accomplish their intended purpose.  They are transparent to the outcome and do not implicate concerns attending objects per se.

Objects per se on the other hand invite us to regard or contemplate them.  In doing so they create, or imply, a schism between self and world.  There is the world in which the object resides, mainly just sitting there.  Juxtaposed against it is a person, mind or self, mainly just looking at it.  In many cases objects per se are representational, for example, painting or sculpture, and therefore ontologically redundant because they are depictions of some other object. 

Objects per se are susceptible to a wide variety of issues, including the following:

1.            Damage or destruction

2.            Thievery.

3.            Counterfeiting – forgery.

4.            Misassignment or misattribution.

5.            Partial – incomplete understanding of the creator’s intention in making the object.

6.            Critique – criticism, which may entail being misunderstood.

7.            Resale from which the original creator does not profit.

The general format of this series will be to compare and contrast interesting news stories involving objects in order to illustrate and highlight the foregoing issues.  The foregoing is just a sketch, we will add more maladies to this list as they occur.  I have a theory that the reification of objects is a unique feature of Western culture – the Judeo-Christian Tradition.  I also have some ideas about how and why this has occurred and its implications for theory of mind.  I will amplify these concepts as they are illustrated by current developments out there in the world of objects.

Here is an example of some of the issues we will be dealing with:

1.            The photographer Annie Leibovitz evidently is in financial distress.  She has borrowed at least $15.5 million from a company called Art Capital Group.  As collateral she pledged the rights to all of her photographs.  Salkin, A. (2009, Feb. 24). “That Old Master? It’s at the Pawnshop.”  New York Times.  These photographs are her artistic patrimony.  She must be in desperate straits indeed to mortgage them to meet transitory financial obligations.  It’s like Steven Spielberg pawning the rights to his movies.  What happens if she defaults?

2.            On the same day of the Leibovitz transaction Christies auctioned the art collection of Yves Saint Laurent, bringing in at least $264 million.  Erlanger, S. (2009, Feb. 24).  “Saint Laurent Art Sale Brings In $264 Million.”  New York Times.  The sale set records for Matisse, Duchamp, Mondrian and others (none of whom are around to realize any financial benefits).  Evidently the YSL estate is doing better than Ms. Leibovitz.  How come the YSL artwork is more valuable than Annie Leibovitz’ pictures?  What is it about them that makes them worth more?  How much would the YSL estate have received if it just had pawned them instead?

3.            Finally the Iraq Art Museum has reopened.  Myers, S. (2009, Feb. 24).  “Iraq Museum Reopens Six Years After Looting.”  New York Times.  Recall this is the museum that civic-minded Iraqis looted in 2003 as they were liberated following the American invasion of their country.  Evidently, thousands of works from its collection of antiquites and art – some of civilization’s earliest objects – remain lost.  Where have they gone?  What is their future, particularly given their now-dubious provenance?  It’s all well and good for a collector to stare at them over their fireplace, but what happens next?  Even though they are aged, and maybe beautiful, do they have any economic value at all?

I previously have attempted to analyze the convoluted thinking of a now-all-but-forgotten Victorian art critic on this subject, see my post, “Wrestling with Ruskin.” I also have devoted similar attention to the astonishing remarks of a New Frontier regulator who should have known better, see my post, “The Minow and the Whale.” If you’re really interested in this stuff, then please read those posts, too.

A. A Colorful History

“Lowest common denominator” has a colorful social and economic history. The saying “You’ll never go broke underestimating the intelligence of the American Public” generally is attributed to the circus entrepreneur P. T. Barnum (or to Will Rogers, or J. P. Morgan, or H. L. Mencken, or G. B. Shaw, or George S. Kauffman), but in fact the concept dates back to the Roman emperor Augustus. It was the satirist Juvenal, who wrote: “The people who have conquered the world now only have two interests – bread and circus games,” Juvenal, Satire 10.

These circuses were not the same as those promoted by Mr. Barnum. Rather, at the time, they comprised primarily animal fights and gladiatorial combat. Thus, while Juvenal was expressing a normative preference of individuals to gather in stadia such as the Coliseum, he also was commenting on the base or banal nature of the entertainment there provided, implying this was as important and common a factor in uniting the populace as conflict and sustenance.

B. Lowest Common Denominator Algebra

We even can express this proposition in faux set-theory style. Let us postulate that a social group (“SG”) comprises a set of individuals (“I”), each of whom in turn comprises a set of attributes or ascriptive predicates (“AP”). These can be of any nature, be it physical or mental, and they can be determined by any means, be they behavioral observation or self-reporting.

I don’t want to get bogged down with complicated questions like how we know when to apply an ascriptive predicate to another person, or the nuances of self-reporting, particularly when states of consciousness are involved. Rather, with Strawson, I simply want to acknowledge the concept of a person as primitive, Strawson, P. F., Individuals 103 (1959).

The ascriptive predicates of interest to us are those about, regarding or otherwise pertaining to aesthetic preferences (I suppose it is convenient that they both can be abbreviated “AP,” though, of course, aesthetic preferences comprise just one of many different types of ascriptive predicates). Thus,

and

C. Juvenal Parsed

If we let “I” in this instance stand for persons or individuals who are contemporaneous with Juvenal, and if “LCAD” stands for “lowest common aesthetic denominator,” then,

What is even more interesting about the Juvenal quote, though, is the derogatory or derisory top-spin he puts on the ∩ of these preferences. It is not enough that they are shared by the “people who have conquered the world” (the notion of “sharing” itself epitomizing the concept of ∩). Rather, Juvenal as much as states that some alternative set of ascriptive predicates would be far “preferable,” in a normative sense that he does not identify further.

In this respect, Juvenal may be the first historical instance of the naturalistic fallacy occurring, in a case of aesthetic judgment. We do not know, for example, if this alternative preference set comprises attributes drawn from his own experience (what we might term his own “personal” preferences, or J{AP1, …, APn} where “J” stands for Juvenal); a different sort through I1 ∩ In; or some ethereal (“E”) preference set E{AP1, …, APn}that might not actually be inculcated or instantiated in any real I, i.e., E{AP1, …, APn}∉ {I1, …, In}, but to which we nonetheless should aspire.

If the latter, then we surely have a couple of questions. First, how should this “hypothetical” LCAD be discerned, particularly if it is not expressed in any individual I? Second, what about it is compelling, and why is it worthy of emulation? In short, why should we care?

D. Aesthetic Preferences and Referential Opacity

The set of ascriptive predicates we’re interested in is “aesthetic preference.” Aesthetic preferences (along with several other species of cultural values) have a distinguishing characteristic, which is that sentences expressing them are referentially opaque. For example, in the phrase “I believes that {AP},” it generally is not possible to supplant {AP} with a co-designative term (i.e., one referring to the same thing), because I can believe whatever I wants. Because of this “opacity,” statements about aesthetic preferences are intransitive.

Consider the following propositions:

1. John likes rap music, i.e., a liking of rap music is an ascriptive predicate of John. We might diagram this as {rap music} ∈ {John}.

2. Tupac Shakur is a rap artist, i.e., a member of the set comprised of those artists who perform rap music. {Tupac Shakur} ∈ {rap music}.

3. We therefore might be tempted to conclude that John likes Tupac Shakur, i.e., a liking of rap music performed by Tupac Shakur is an ascriptive predicate of John, or {Tupac Shakur} ∈ {John}.

What if, though – completely unbeknownst to us – John lives in New York, and eschews the “west coast rap” sound of Tupac, in preference to the “east coast rap” sound of the Notorious B.I.G. If this is true, then, most likely, it cannot correctly be inferred that John likes Tupac.

This sort of reference “failure” is a distinguishing characteristic of all statements involving aesthetic preferences. Put slightly differently, your aesthetic preferences may not be mine. Furthermore, even if we are discussing what we think are the same aesthetic issues, we may be talking about different things.

This fundamentally is unlike the following:

1. All of the members of the band “Poison” are hirsute, i.e., if I is a member of the band Poison, then I is hirsute, for all possible values of I; I1 … In {I ∈ Poison} → {hirsuteness} ∈ I.

2. Brett Michaels is a member of the band “Poison,” i.e., {Brett Michaels} ∈ {Poison}.

3. Therefore, we validly may conclude Brett Michaels is hirsute, i.e. hirsuteness is an ascriptive predicate of Brett Michaels, or {hirsuteness} ∈ {Brett Michaels}.

It thus can be seen that substitutivity of identity is the sine qua non of referential transparency. For more on this, see Quine, W., Word and Object 141 (1960); and, Russell, B., An Inquiry into Meaning and Truth 261 (1950).

E. So Just What Is the “Lowest Common Aesthetic Denominator”?

Having thus digressed, we now are in a position to ask, exactly what is the “lowest common aesthetic denominator?” We won’t be using this phrase in its algebraic sense of “highest common factor.” Rather, our concern is its use in the context of social organizations – a problem that, despite our quasi-doodling around, supra, does not admit of an algebraic solution.

I think we can define LCAD as the extent to which, with reference to a particular AP, individuals {I1 … In} are “alike,” or it can be said that they “agree,” or some similar term of correspondence (which itself may have various degrees of precision). Thus,

If such is not the case with respect to any AP, then

Next: to what extent does a lowest common denominator aesthetic prevail in today’s cultural milieu; and, what is involved in making that claim?

Like a latter-day Mr. Peabody, let us jump into our time machine, and traverse back to 1961, when Newton Minow, who just had been appointed as Chairman of the Federal Communications Commission (“FCC”) by John F. Kennedy, gave a speech before the National Ass’n of Broadcasters [reprinted at 55 Fed. Comm. Law J. 395 (2003)]. He lambasted the television industry, characterizing television programming as a “vast wasteland.” Because he began by citing what he perceived to be the television industry’s relative prosperity, it is clear Minow’s critique adopts an economic perspective. However, his main objective was to focus attention on “the public interest,” one of the FCC’s principal regulatory mandates, 47 U.S.C. §151. In fact, the Communications Act of 1934, as amended, sets forth the phrase “public interest” a total of 103 times.

By contrasting “vast wasteland” with “public interest,” Minow intended not only to define one of the primary regulatory concerns of his administration, but also to induce action on the part of the broadcast community, to migrate towards what he thought were more noble and altruistic concerns.

B. Parsing the “Vast Wasteland”

We previously examined John Ruskin’s argument for what might be called “objective aesthetic criteria” (see “Wrestling with Ruskin,” a previous post). As with Ruskin, we need to examine Minow’s argument thoroughly, as there is a great deal that is puzzling in what he says. [Cites hereafter are to 55 Fed. Comm. Law J. 395 (2003).

1. The purpose of the FCC is to “enforce the law in the public interest,” 396.

2. The FCC’s purpose is not “to muzzle or censor broadcasting,” 396, 401.

3. The public interest is not “merely what interests the public,” 396, 402.

4. The public interest is made up of many interests, all of which must be served, 400.

5. In order to serve the public interest, broadcasting “must have a soul and a conscience, a burning desire to excel * * *; the urge to build the character, citizenship and intellectual stature of people * * *,” 396.

6. In addition to being mandated by law, serving the public interest is important because of the pressures of current events; advances in technological knowledge; and broadcasting’s cultural impact, 397. It influences children, 399. Broadcasting should assume a “leadership” role, like newspapers and magazines, 397.

7. This being so, what criteria may be used to distinguish programming “not in the public interest,” from programming that “is in the public interest”?

8. Not in the public interest: It is “complacent,” “unbalanced.” It “debases” the people, 397. “[W]hen [it] is bad, nothing is worse,” 398. It is in “low” taste, 399. It comprises “endless hours of mediocrity” and “moments of public disgrace,” 405. It is sterile, imitative, conformist, mediocre, 405. It has “mass-market appeal required by mass-product advertisers,” 404. It “squander[s] the public’s airwaves,” 401. It is more concerned with “costs per thousand” rather than “understanding per millions,” 402.

Examples: action-adventure programs and situation comedies, 397; “game shows, violence, audience participation shows, formula comedies about totally unbelievable families, blood and thunder, mayhem, violence, sadism, murder, Western badmen, Western good men, private eyes, gangsters, more violence and cartoons. And, endlessly, commercials – many screaming, cajoling and offending,” 398; “action-adventure, situation comedy, variety, quiz and movies,” 398; Westerns, 400; programs of “Western badmen and good men punching each other in the jaw in between the shooting,” 404; programs about private eyes, 400; programming that “communicate[s] relaxation,” 400; programming that “cater[s] to the nation’s whims,” 400; programming that results from “a relentless search for the highest rating and the lowest common denominator,” 400; and, old movies, 403. With respect to childrens’ programming: “massive doses of cartoons, violence and more violence,” 399.

9. In the public interest: It is “intelligent,” 397; it “enriches” the people, 397; “[w]hen [it] is good, * * * nothing is better,” 398; behind it are “the forces of art and creativity and daring and imagination,” 399; it exemplifies the people’s “good sense and good taste;” 399; it is imaginative; creative; experimental; excellent, 405; it “appeal[s] to more limited markets and to special tastes,” 404; it comprises program materials that “enlarge the horizons of the viewer, provide him with wholesome entertainment, afford helpful stimulation, and remind him of the responsibilities which the citizen has toward his society,” 404; it addresses “the special needs of children, * * * community responsibility, * * * the advancement of education and culture,” 404; it comprises “educational, religious, instructive or other public service programming,” 402; and, it is “more concerned with understanding per millions” rather than with “costs per thousand,” 402. With respect to childrens’ programming, its role is “to teach, to inform, to uplift, to stretch, to enlarge [their] capacities * * *,” 399.

Examples: “The Fabulous Fifties,” the “Fred Astaire Show,” the “Bing Crosby Special,” Conrad’s “Victory” and “Twilight Zone,” “The Nation’s Future,” “CBS Reports,” “The Valiant Years,” 397; symphonies, 400; programming that “communicate[s] ideas,” 400; programming that “serve[s] the nation’s needs,” 400; “Victory at Sea,” the Army-McCarthy hearings, “Peter Pan,” the “Kraft Theater,” a program called “See It Now,” a program called “Project 20,” the World Series, broadcasts of political conventions, campaigns and debates, 405; public-service programming, 403; educational programming, 401; programs serving local needs “as to local elections, controversial issues, local news, local talent,” 402; and, informational programs, 403. With respect to children, “programs deepening their understanding of children in other lands * * * a children’s news show explaining something about the world to them at their level of understanding * * * reading the great literature of the past, teaching them the great traditions of freedom,” 399.

10. Broadcasters’ responsibility to the public interest “cannot be discharged by any given group of programs, but can be discharged only through the highest standards of respect for the American home, applied to every moment of every program presented by television,” 404. “The people own the air. They own it as much in prime evening time as they do at 6 o’clock Sunday morning. For every hour that the people give you, you owe them something,” 400.

11. Why is so much of television so bad? “[D]emands of your advertisers; competition for ever higher ratings; the need always to attract a mass audience; the high cost of television programs; the insatiable appetite for programming material,” 398.

12. Ratings indicate only that some people have their television sets turned on and what channels they’re watching. Ratings are a “dictatorship of numbers,” 403. They do not tell us what the public might watch if they were offered additional choices, 398. They do not measure “intensity of reaction,” 399. Under many circumstances, ratings should have little influence – for example, where children are concerned, 399.

13. Ratings also present a puzzle, in that if broadcasters only presented programming shown as demanded by ratings, it is not clear it would continue to be demanded. “[I]f some of you persist in a relentless search for the highest rating and the lowest common denominator, you may very well lose your audience,” 400. By analogy, “the news is still on the front page of all newspapers, the editorials are not replaced by more comics, the newspapers have not become one long collection of advice to the lovelorn,” even though these are their most “popular” features, 399.

14. Broadcast content (and the public interest) therefore should not be determined by ratings or the popularity of any given show vis-à-vis another, 400.

15. Rather, broadcasters “must provide a wider range of choices, more diversity, more alternatives,” 400.

16. Advertisers will come around to this new regimen. Tell your advertisers, “This is the high quality we are going to serve – take it or other people will. If you think you can find a better place to move automobiles, cigarettes and soap – go ahead and try,” 402.

17. “The people” have good sense and good taste, 399.

18. The peoples’ “taste” is not as “low” as broadcasters assume, 399. “The people are wise, wiser than some of the broadcasters – and politicians – think,” 400.

19. While it is true that people “would more often prefer to be entertained than stimulated or informed,” 400, present programming is not aimed accurately at the public taste, 398.

20. One reason why is the “concentration of power in the hands of the networks. As a result, too many local stations have foregone any efforts at local programming, with little use of live talent and local service,” 402.

21. As a corollary, “[M]ost of television’s problems stem from lack of competition,” 404. Thus, presumably, if there were more stations (particularly in the UHF spectrum), there would be “a wider range of choices, more diversity, more alternatives” (from Step 15).

22. Television will thrive on this competition, 404.

C. A Problem for Minow

Where to start with all of this? To me, it really is astonishing that a public figure in this day and age, like Minow, was able to say these things, yet not confront serious challenge, if not from those in favor of the First Amendment, then at least from those members of the group with even a modest background in analytical philosophy. Minow states that his purpose is not to “muzzle” broadcasting, Step 3. Yet, all he offers for criteria to distinguish “in the public interest” from “not in the public interest,” Step 7, is a slippery slope of vague and poorly-defined words, Step 8 and Step 9. Surely this state of indeterminacy might be sufficient to deter even the most courageous broadcaster from airing a potentially controversial program, thus prospectively “muzzling” shows that, on margin, could go either way. Those criteria that exist are not susceptible to precise definition; and there always is the danger that additional criteria might pop up on an extemporaneous, improvisatory basis.

Furthermore, it is far from clear whether his illustrative references support his criteria; for example, shows such as “The Fabulous Fifties,” the “Fred Astaire Show” and the “Bing Crosby Special” conscionably could be described as “complacent,” “sterile,” “conformist,” “mediocre,” and in “low taste.”

Nor is it clear that either his criteria, or his examples, remain timely. Ironically, the very period Minow condemned as a “vast wasteland” now is referred to as part of the “golden age of television,” Spigel, L., “From Domestic Space to Outer Space: the 1960s Fantastic Family Sit-Family Sit-Com” in Penley, C., Lyon, E., Spigel, L. and Bergstrom, J. (eds.), Close Encounters: Film, Feminism and Science Fiction (1991). Shows such as “Bewitched” and Mod Squad” are dissected as paradigms of 1960’s culture. An entire cable network – Nickelodeon, owned by Viacom – is devoted to showing re-runs of programming long thought to be obsolete.

More serious than these objections, however, is Minow’s appeal to the intrinsic worthwhile-ness of certain specific categories of aesthetic works, as epitomizing cultural values in the “public interest.” Minow avers the public interest is not merely what interests the public, Step 3. Without getting bogged down in semantics, what then is it? We know it cannot be determined by ratings, Step 14. If not by ratings, then by what, or more propitiously, by whom? The answer is clear – it is Minow’s taste for symphonies, “Peter Pan,” public-service programming, educational programming and informational programs, etc. that matters.

D. Minow’s Preferences

This logic is disturbingly familiar; in truth and fact, Minow is a latter-day Ruskin. Minow believes that programs have what we might call an “intrinsic characteristic,” which is that they either are in the public interest, or they aren’t. I would like to suggest, as with Ruskin, that this is another example of the naturalistic fallacy, in application.

Imagine that a program (“P”) has the following aesthetic attributes (“AA,”) among others:

1. {There are people riding horses}.

2. {The program’s locale is the western part of the U.S.}.

3. {Some of the people riding the horses are good (or at least the producers of the program invite the audience to perceive them as good}.

4. {Some of the people riding the horses are bad (or at least the producers of the program invite the audience to perceive them as bad}.

5. {There is blood and thunder, violence and murder}.

6. {On occasion, the bad men shoot at the good men, and vice versa}.

7. {On occasion, in-between the shooting, the bad men and the good men punch each other in the jaw}.

8. {At various interludes, there are commercials, some of which are screaming, cajoling and offending}.
…
n. {AA} ∈ P.

From P = {AA1, …, AA8, …, AAn}, Minow then concludes:

Yet, there is nothing in {AA1, …, AA8, …, AAn} that even weakly infers such a conclusion.

Furthermore, it seems clear that Minow wants to arrogate unto himself the power to determine what is in the public interest. We know several things about Minow’s taste. For example, if Minow is “M”, then we might say:

1. {action-adventure programs} ≠ {AP | AP ∈ M}.

2. {situation comedies} ≠ {AP | AP ∈ M}.

3. {variety, quiz and game shows} ≠ {AP | AP ∈ M}.

4. {audience participation shows} ≠ {AP | AP ∈ M}.

5. {formula comedies about totally unbelievable families ≠ {AP | AP ∈ M}

6. {programs with blood, thunder, mayhem, violence, sadism or murder} ≠ {AP | AP ∈ M}.

7. {Westerns} ≠ {AP | AP ∈ M}.

8. {detective shows} ≠ {AP | AP ∈ M}.

9. {cartoons} ≠ {AP | AP ∈ M}.

10. {commercials} ≠ {AP | AP ∈ M}.

11. {old movies} ≠ {AP | AP ∈ M}.
…

n. {AA}≠ {AP | AP ∈ M}.

We also know:

12. {“The Fabulous Fifties”} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

13. {The “Fred Astaire Show”} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

14. {The “Bing Crosby Special”} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

15. {Conrad’s “Victory” and “Twilight Zone”} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

16. {“The Nation’s Future”} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

17. {“CBS Reports”} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

18. {“The Valiant Years”} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

19. {symphonies} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

20. {“Victory at Sea”} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

21. {the Army-McCarthy hearings} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

22. {“Peter Pan”} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

23. {the “Kraft Theater”} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

24. {“See It Now”} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

25. {“Project 20”} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

26. {the World Series} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

27. {broadcasts of political conventions, campaigns and debates} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

28. {public-service programming} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

29. {educational programming} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

30. {local programs} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.

31. {informational programs} = {AP | AP ∈ M}.
…

n. {AA}= {AP | AP ∈ M}.

But there is no basis for Minow then to infer that

Or even

So, when he says that “[t]he people have good sense and good taste” (Step 17) and “[t]he people’s taste is not as low as broadcasters assume” (Step 18), what Minow really is saying is that “the people,” broadly understood, are a lot like him, or, at least, that he is the iteration or embodiment of their aesthetic preferences. But this ignores what we might characterize as the “intransitivity of aesthetic preference,” and is exactly what Ruskin was trying to do. To confront Minow even more directly, how is his logic any different from appealing to the network’s “taste,” rather than Minow’s? At Step 20, Minow condemns the networks as concentrating too much power. Yet, he fails to perceive that all he really is proposing is substituting his power for theirs. At Step 13, Minow even goes so far as to conclude that if broadcasters only presented programming shown as demanded by ratings, it is not clear that it would continue to be demanded. This is like chastising those of us who would rather read about sports and do crossword puzzles, instead of reading the news on the front page. Literally, instead of “Father Knows Best,” it’s “Minow knows best.”

Minow also faces the problem of the “lowest common aesthetic denominator,” which we first identified for Mr. Ruskin. At our Step 4, Minow avers that the public interest is made up of many interests, all of which must be served. He also states, at our Step 15, that broadcasters must provide a wider range of choices, more diversity, and more alternatives (though it is far from clear that less concentration in the media industry will promote programming diversity, and Minow says nothing to support this proposition). At our Step 12, he states that ratings indicate only that some people have their television sets turned on and what channels they’re watching. He characterizes ratings as a “dictatorship of numbers,” observing that they do not tell us what the public might watch if they were offered additional choices. Nor do they measure intensity of preference. But how do these desirable hypothetical “additional choices” fare, against the imperative of what everybody else wants to see?

“John Ruskin will be remembered * * * as one of the gravediggers of British freedom, civilization and prosperity. * * * He paid homage to the arts of earlier centuries. * * * It was the writings of Ruskin that popularized the prejudice that capitalism, apart from being a bad economic system, has substituted ugliness for beauty, pettiness for grandeur, trash for art.” Von Mises, L., The Anti-Capitalist Mentality 60 (1972 ed.).

A. Cultural Values

One of Ruskin’s main interests was the process a society goes through when it identifies and establishes cultural values – how they came to be what they are, as opposed to something else; and, how it is we can discern them. He also reached normative conclusions about just what those cultural values should be. But wait, there’s more: he actually believed that everybody should adopt the specific cultural values he identified. Not only were they “intrinsically” more preferable, in and of themselves; but they also corresponded better to a set of “ideal civic virtues.”

B. Political Economy

Ruskin came to his conclusions about cultural values, as part of his analysis of political economy. “Political economy” is concerned with the production, distribution and consumption of goods and services, and the relationship between this and a form of social organization or government – issues such as taxation and the rights of property, the structure of markets, etc. Thus, for example, a political economist might theorize as to the “value” of an item, which in turn depends upon the “costs” involved to produce it.

C. John Stuart Mill

In Ruskin’s day, one of the foremost political economists was John Stuart Mill. Ruskin cast his work primarily as commentary on, and as a critique of, Mill.

In addition to being a political economist, Mill also was a utilitarian, which (as we all know) is a variety or species of ethical theory. Generally speaking, utilitarianism holds that an action’s rightness or wrongness depends on the “goodness” or “badness” of its consequences. In addition to being an explanation of how we ought to think about ethical problems, utilitarianism also reaches normative conclusions about modes of conduct, such as, “an action is preferable if it results in better consequences for the greatest number of people.”

D. The Inherent “Goodness” of an Action, versus Utilitarianism

Mill’s economic theories are so intertwined with his ethical theories that, for the most part, it is difficult to separate them. Thus, in a significant way, we can interpret Ruskin’s critique of Mill’s views on political economy, also as a critique of Mill’s views about utilitarianism. Since Ruskin believed only certain objects or activities were intrinsically worthy of aesthetic attention, then it stands to reason he also would have believed certain actions were intrinsically good or bad, without reference to impedimentia such as causes or effects.

In other words, Ruskin would have disagreed with any analysis that depends on reference to factors “external” to the analysis itself, such as the utilitarian theorem of “the greatest good for the greatest number.” In principle, to determine this, one would have to take a vote (prospectively), or, do a case study (retroactively). Instead, Ruskin simply would refer to the underlying precepts of the theory, itself.

Thus, Ruskin and Mill can be neatly juxtaposed, something like this:

Ruskin: Believed the worthiness of an aesthetic work (or an action) was intrinsic to the nature of the work (or the action), itself.

Mills: Believed the worthiness of an aesthetic work (or an action) only could be determined by referring to extrinsic criteria, such as “the greatest good for the greatest number.”

E. A Problem for Ruskin

In this undertaking, however, Ruskin assumed his particular “take” on cultural values could be extrapolated across, and characterized as representative of, a set of individuals; whereas, in fact, each of such individuals might have a different preference. This not only would be true of the time – those individuals then alive, in colonial England – but especially true if Ruskin intended for his theory to have on-going applicability, for example, in the present day. Ruskin would have believed, for example, that opera music is intrinsically preferable to rap music; and, that individuals who patronize the opera, are in some way more acculturated than those queuing up for Eminem or Judas Priest.

For example, Ruskin was particularly fond of Turner and the Pre-Raphaelites. His criticism of James Whistler’s ethereal landscape Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket, exhibited at the Grosvenor Gallery in July 1877, resulted in a libel case against him. In a manner similar to the way in which many contemporary critics initially dismissed Andy Warhol, Ruskin accused Whistler of “insolence” for charging “two hundred guineas for flinging a pot of paint in the public’s face.” Whistler v. Ruskin was heard at the Old Bailey in November 1878. The trial involved many of the major figures of the Victorian art world: William Powell Frith and Edward Burne-Jones testified on Ruskin’s behalf, while Albert Moore and William Michael Rossetti supported Whistler. Although Whistler won the trial, he was awarded only one farthing in damages, a primary cause of his subsequent bankruptcy. In December 1877, Whistler published his account of the trial, the first of his “brown-paper” pamphlets. Whistler, J. M., Whistler v. Ruskin: Art and Art Critics (1878), reprinted in Whistler, J. M., The Gentle Art of Making Enemies (1890).

But where does Ruskin get the idea that “Turner is good” and “Whistler is bad;” and how does he elevate this concept to the status of something approaching an ethical precept? If this sounds kind of screwy to you, it does to me, too, which is the main reason why I’m writing this note.

F. Unto This Last

Ruskin’s main work on political economy is entitled Unto This Last – a collection of essays, published in 1862. Unto This Last is, itself, an enigmatic title. Does he envision a sequence, or a shelf of books, and mean this is the last book that should be read? Does he mean the content of the book is something that needs to stick around for a long time, until society reaches some undefined (perhaps, indefinable) objective? Or, is it more like an expression of relief upon reaching a destination, i.e., something like, “Unto This, at Last!”

G. The Nature of “Ruskinian Analysis”

As expressed by the von Mises quote, Ruskin thought the very concept of politically economy, and its resulting analytical framework, reduced human endeavor to a “covetous machine,” concerned solely with the acquisition of wealth, but with no interest in its sources or applications. He disagreed both with the logical structure of the inquiry – the nature of the questions Mill posed; together with his premises and conclusions. In this respect, Ruskin’s critique can be characterized not only as semantic in nature, but also syntactical or meta-linguistic. Not only is he in disagreement with the underlying propositional content, but also the logical mechanism or procedures of the system itself, that one might use in order to deduce higher-order conclusions.

Reading Ruskin today is a curious exercise, as he writes in the stilted prose so common to writers of that era. Most of the time, it is difficult to discern exactly what he’s talking about; and, after you think you understand it, it’s hard to get into the right frame of mind, in order to put it into context. His style of argument is first to show potential inconsistencies within what he interprets as Mill’s definition or statement of principle, or to attempt to illustrate potentially anomalous cases. Typically these go off on a tangent, and are based on a confusing or incorrect interpretation of what Mill was trying to say, to begin with, thereby trapping the reader in a kind of logical cul-de-sac. Then, he proceeds to the exposition of his main point, which invariably involves appeal to a metaphysical notion that may have been well-understood then, but that is virtually impenetrable now.

H. Parsing Unto This Last

The most important essay in Unto This Last is Essay IV, entitled, “Ad Valorem.” Because I want to try to get to the bottom of what Ruskin could possibly be thinking, I am going to outline in some detail each of the propositions Ruskin advocates in “Ad Valorem.” In doing so, I have set aside peripheral ideas, instead structuring his argument as a series of inferences and conclusions. I have tried to interpret Ruskin expansively, so as to give his position as much credence and expositive force as fairly can be derived from the text. He’s not an idiot, though he does have some curious notions. It therefore is my intention to give Ruskin the “benefit of the doubt,” to the fullest extent possible.

So far as I can discern it, then, Ruskin’s critique of the enterprise of political economy goes something like this (all page references are to Unto This Last):

1. The term “value” means “value in exchange” (or “exchange value”), 38.

2. A thing is economically useful, or an object has exchange value, if it “leads to life,” 40.

3. Cultural concerns such as aesthetics are proxies for “life,” 43. Thus, exchange value is inextricably linked to the positive attributes of a well-ordered society.

4. There is a sense in which the economic utility of an object (using the definition at point 2) is intrinsic to the object itself, “independent of opinion and of quantity,” 40. Thus, for example, a plow has greater exchange value than a bayonet, 37.

5. “Wealth” consists of the accumulation of things or objects with exchange value. To be “wealthy” is to “possess” a “large stock of useful articles” that can be used in exchange, 40.

6. But, since articles can be used both for “good” and “bad” purposes, it also is necessary for the article to be appropriately applied. A person is not really “wealthy,” then, unless he can deploy resources for beneficial purposes, 41.

7. The subject of political economy is “wealth,” 38.

8. The enterprise of political economy therefore is inherently contradictory, in one with the requisite mind-set to accumulate “wealth” (using the definition at point 6) typically would be disinterested in accumulating objects with material value. Conversely, the possession of a large number of such objects might have a tendency to undermine the disposition or character of such a person, 42.

9. The “price” of an item is a measure of its exchange value, 42.

10. Any exchange transaction is a closed-loop system, in that there is a finite amount of “profit” to be made. To the extent one transactor profits, the other experiences a diminution of wealth, 42.

11. An exchange results in “profit” if one party is comparatively advantaged to the detriment of the other. Comparative advantage in turn depends on exploiting the ignorance or incapacity of one’s transacting counterpart, 43.

12. A “just” exchange would not exhibit these characteristics. Rather, there either would be advantage on both sides of the exchange, or advantage on one side but no disadvantage on the other. The definition of “profit” (at point 11) also is derisory to cultural values, such as aesthetics, 43.

13. The “price” of an item must be determined by the nature of the labor given by the person desiring it, in order to obtain possession of it, 44.

14. “Labor” in turn consists of two dimensions or aspects: “quality,” which is invariable; and “quantity,” which is the amount that must be given for other things, 43. [By “quality,” Ruskin seems to mean the subjective apprehension of the laborer with respect to his work, i.e. labor considered qua labor, from the perspective of the actor. A back-room executive, for example, regards his labor as every bit as laborful, or partaking of labor-like activity, as someone on the shop floor.]

15. Labor is “good” if it applies “intellect and feeling” to regulate a physical force. Labor is “bad” if it is “heartless, inexperienced or senseless.” “Bad” labor is not susceptible to valuation, 44. [By “good,” Ruskin means something like, the laborer authentically and honestly performs the labor.]

16. Labor may be divided into two categories – “positive” and “negative.” “Positive” labor is that which “produces life,” e.g., raising children. “Negative” labor is that which “produces death,” , murder, 45.

17. “Capital” is the capacity to achieve a transformative economic result, e.g., using a plow to dig a furrow, 45. It does not consist simply in the ownership or possession of the predicate element (in this example, the plow).

18. “Wealth” in turn depends upon the existence of capital, i.e., this transformational capacity, 46. The plow has no utility, in and of itself.

19. “Production” means the acquisition of capital (as defined at point 17). The key metric is not the acquisition of things, but rather, their distribution and consumption, 46.

20. To the extent the discipline of political economy is concerned with acquisition, not distribution, it rests on mistaken premises. For the emphasis should be on the latter, i.e., the deployment of wealth to beneficial ends – “how much life it produces” (i.e., how much it advances the society’s culture), 48. Furthermore, focusing on exchange transactions to the exclusion of other factors, such as what one uses one’s wealth for, is misleading.

21. Wealth thus consists in “life” (i.e., the fulfillment or realization of the society’s culture), 46. Merely acquiring wealth without deploying it for useful purposes is “comfortless” and to do so is “selfish” and “fruitless” – a species of “avaricious fraud, 48.

22. A rich person is one who deploys wealth for the “widest helpful influence.” A nation is “wealthy” if its labor is deployed towards obtaining and distributing “means of life,” i.e., cultural values such as aesthetics. A rich country is one populated by “noble” (i.e., virtuous) and happy people. A political economy based solely on self-interest, on the other hand, is inherently destructive, 46.

23. Political economy, and in particular, a capitalist political economy as outlined by Mills, therefore devalues culture, 50.

I. Analysis

Clearly there are a number of problems with Ruskin’s argument, thus set forth. His concept that things or objects have innate vitality – hearkening back to Locke’s notion of “primary” and “secondary” qualities [Locke, J., An Essay Concerning Human Understanding 168 et seq. (1894)] – is highly dubious. His notions of “leads to life” and, for that matter, “life” in general, are unexplained premises, not derived conclusions. His definition of “wealth” similarly is teleological. His concept of “labor” simply is non-sensical.

Furthermore, while he thought he was criticizing Mill, unfortunately, Ruskin did not advance anything in the way of a counter-proposal. What he might have said is something like “there are circumstances under which the consequences of moral choices might outweigh the effects of economic ones” (such as devoting a factory to the production of spoons rather than bayonets), but this type of statement is nowhere to be found.

In a significant way, then, Ruskin misses the point. One does not question the validity of a theory simply by rejecting it; rather, it is incumbent upon the critic to propose an alternative one, with better fit to the facts. Mill, and other political economists of his day, were not proposing a merely theoretical hypothesis, which one could reject on the grounds one would prefer to contemplate gothic architecture (another of Ruskin’s favorites). Rather, they were attempting to describe and analyze the real-world phenomena they observed.

Furthermore, we end up in the unpleasant spot where, contrary to his earlier implicit promises, Ruskin has not provided us with any criteria to differentiate the “good,” from the “bad.”

J. Something of Interest

This notwithstanding, there are a couple of interesting points about Ruskin’s analysis, metaphysical flummery notwithstanding. First, there is nothing that would prevent his critique from applying equally to a socialist or Marxist analysis of political economy, rather than a capitalist one (as embodied by Mill). Although such an economy obviously would result in a different distributive consequence, the same reasoning and principles regarding the effect of political economy as a discipline and methodology still would pertain.

Second, and more importantly, Ruskin’s formulation of a “just exchange” (at our point 12) is a precursor definition of Pareto optimality, not formally articulated in economic literature until years later. Broadly speaking, an outcome is Pareto optimal when no one can be made better off without making someone else worse off. This is a distinctly non-utilitarian perspective – utilitarians believe in the greatest good for the greatest number. Generally speaking, they are concerned with collective welfare-maximizing alternatives, not individual ones.

This is the main reason why I think it is erroneous to characterize Ruskin as a socialist, as he often is. If he was a socialist, he would be more congenial towards utilitarianism – but he isn’t. Rather, he believes a “just exchange” is one in which there either is advantage on both sides of the exchange, or advantage on one side but no disadvantage on the other.

K. Ruskin and Rawls

In this respect, I think Ruskin’s views are similar to those of John Rawls. Rawls asks us to envision a hypothetical “original position” where “no one knows his place in society, his class position or social status, nor does any one know his fortune in the distribution of natural assets and abilities, his intelligence, strength, and the like,” Rawls, J., A Theory of Justice 12 (1971). Under such circumstances, “it hardly seems likely that persons who view themselves as equals * * * would agree to a principle which may require lesser life prospects for some simply for the sake of a greater sum of advantages enjoyed by others,” ibid. 14. Rather, rational and disinterested actors in such a situation would conclude that “social and economic inequalities, for example inequalities of wealth and authority, are just only if they result in compensating benefits for everyone, and in particular for the least advantaged members of society,” ibid. 14 – which, as a point of the theory, could be you.

Rawls’ re-formulation of the issue also fortifies my belief that Ruskin is less pro-socialist than may appear. While he tip-toes around the issue, Rawls makes clear that one of the more significant advantages of a market system is that “given the requisite background institutions, it is consistent with equal liberties and fair equality of opportunity,” ibid. 274. He might just as well have said it is more likely to result in a “just exchange,” using Ruskin’s definitions for those terms.

Unfortunately, it is difficult to harmonize Ruskin’s views on ethics with his views on aesthetics. A Ruskin-Pareto-Rawlsian principle (of imagining the situation of the least advantaged member of a group) does not translate into objects having “inherent utility,” or certain artistic works being “intrinsically more preferable.” In a way, almost the opposite seems true; if the emphasis is on the fate of the least-advantaged member, then it might follow that such person should have the freedom to make personal aesthetic choices, rather than have them presented by, or somehow manifest in, the work itself. Keep in mind Ruskin’s premise that a thing is economically useful, or an object has exchange value, if it “leads to life,” “life” in this instance being a kind of short-hand for cultural values such as aesthetics (Step 2 and Step 3, supra). “Wealth” itself consists in “life,” i.e. the deployment of things or objects with exchange value (Step 5, supra) towards beneficial ends (Steps 20 – 23, supra).

But this is a form of circular reasoning, as both the definiens and the definiendum depend upon the notion of “life,” i.e., cultural value. Rather than positing “leading to life” as the primary characteristic of an object with “exchange value,” Ruskin simply should say everybody is free to attribute whatever properties they want to an object. It then would be logically consistent to conclude the object’s exchange value ought to be measured by the extent to which the actor is successful in deploying it for beneficial ends, and that “wealth” is a measurement of that actor’s success in so doing.

L. The “Lowest Common Aesthetic Denominator”

Significantly, Rawls does not offer a theory of aesthetics. If he did, it seems unlikely he would adopt Ruskin’s position that there exist certain classes or individual instances of works that are intrinsically preferable. Rather, I think Rawls would be – and Ruskin ought to be – sympathetic to the notion of what we might call a “lowest common aesthetic denominator” (“LCAD”). Rawls believes social and economic inequalities are “just” only if they result in compensating benefits for everyone, and in particular, for the least advantaged members of society. This formulation invites us to imagine a set of social and economic (“SEQ”) that are distributed over the individuals (“I”) comprising a given social group (“SG”), i.e.

and

It follows that SG1’s LCAD with respect to SEQ is

Is this ∩ the perspective of the “least advantaged” I of SG? Not necessarily, because clearly some I’s attract SEQ’s that are less welfare-maximizing than LCAD. However, this is not the only criterion. Rather, the second prong of Rawl’s test is that LCAD simultaneously must result in compensating benefits for everyone. In other words, because it is ∩, it necessarily must comprise those SEQ’s that are shared by all of the I’s over SG. It is not that far of an inferential leap to substitute “aesthetic preference” (“AP”) for SEQ. Simple economics will advise us the more I’s you have in any given SG, the harder it is for SG to supply utility to each I, because the highest possible utility for each I is LCAD. And, this has important implications for the entire notion of “aesthetic preferences.”

An interesting fact about aesthetic preferences is that there is no good way to determine their truth or falsity. To borrow an analogy, it’s not like Moses brought the Ten Commandments down from Mount Sinai, and one of them said that “opera is good and rap music is bad.” It certainly might be possible to discern whether somebody – let’s call him “John” – likes Tupac Shakur. A cultural anthropologist, for example, might observe his behavior, and note the frequency with which he played Tupac’s albums.

But all this does is attribute an ascriptive predicate to John, i.e., a liking for the music of Tupac Shakur. It tells us nothing about Tupac (other than, perhaps, John is one of his fans). In particular, it is not and never will be possible to derive a conclusion that Tupac’s music is good or bad. We can determine if it fits the criteria for what counts as rap music, by parsing out its various elements. For example, it typically is spoken in a chant-like cadence, not sung; it has a repetitive beat; etc. We can determine if it fits the criteria for any number of sub-genres of rap music, e.g. west coast rap, gangsta rap, etc. We can count the number of people who enjoy listening to it, for example, by using an opinion poll, or using record sales (or music downloads) as a proxy for popularity. We also can count the number of people who dislike it; indeed, we know there is at least one such person, because Tupac died in Las Vegas in September of 1996 after shots were fired into a car in which he was a passenger (1). But this tells us nothing about the intrinsic worthiness of the music, itself.

All of this leads to the conclusion that there is a profound sense in which aesthetic preferences simply don’t “matter,” in the sense that, standing by themselves, they do not have real-world consequences. Interestingly, sentences expressing ethical principles typically are referentially opaque in the same manner as sentences expressing aesthetic preferences. Their significance, though, is completely different. One would be hard pressed to argue, for example, that the propositional content of “murder is bad” is the same as “heavy metal music is bad.” The former has real-world consequences, in that murder is a crime and deprives a human being of life, with resulting welfare-adverse effects. Whereas, liking, listening to, or propagating heavy metal music, is not. While there is a utilitarian theory of ethics, there is no such thing as a “utilitarian aesthetics.”

G. E. Moore coined the term “naturalistic fallacy” to describe the effort to define an evaluative statement (such as “this is good”) in terms of a set of descriptive statements (such as “it has qualities x, y and z“) (2). He characterized ethical statements as particularly vulnerable to this problem. Critics of Moore appeal to the social conventions and rules that govern all species of ethical behavior. For example, if Jones uttered the words “I hereby promise to pay you, Smith, five dollars,” then it follows that Jones ought to pay Smith five dollars, because part of what is entailed in promising is that one ought to keep one’s promises (3). Aesthetic judgment, however, is not hedged by any such social conventions or rules. If Jones was to say, “I like the opera,” then it does not follow that opera is good, even if Jones was attending the opera while making this statement. Aesthetic conclusions therefore present the sine qua non of the naturalistic fallacy in application.

B. But, in a Subset of Cases, They Do

So far, this seeems pretty intuitive. However, we would be remiss not to note a peculiar sub-genre of legal cases that have arisen under the general heading of undesirable social effects “caused” by art. Algebraically, we might diagram this as follows, where AP stands for “aesthetic preference” and RWC stands for “real world consequence”:

For example, In 1774, Johan Wolfgang von Goethe published The Sufferings of Young Werther. The novel’s hero is a sensitive, emotional aspiring artist who loses the love of his life to a rival, then shoots himself to end his torment. There were copycat suicides, like the one recounted by Goethe biographer Richard Friedenthal, in which a Werther fan opened the book to the death scene, invited others to watch, then shot himself with a pistol (4). Apocryphally, during the 1920s, a child killed his father with a carving knife after watching a silent movie (5). The original 1950s “Superman” series apparently incited a few children to leap off rooftops in imitation (6).

More recently, in 1984, 19-year-old John McCollum killed himself with a .22 caliber handgun after spending the day listening to records by the “heavy metal” rock singer Ozzy Osbourne. His parents sued Ozzy’s record label, alleging that the song “Suicide Solution” from the album “Blizzard of Ozz” contributed to their son’s death (7). The rock group Judas Priest was sued when two delusional fans killed themselves after allegedly being subjected to subliminal messages while playing the song “Better By You, Better Than Me” from the band’s Stained Class album backwards (8). Slain Texas patrolman Bill Davidson’s family sued Tupac Shakur and his record company after the murderer confessed he had listened to Tupac’s album 2PACalypse Now immediately prior to the slaying (9). One of the album’s songs, “Soulja’s Story,” speaks of “blasting” a police officer and “droppin’ the cop” after a traffic stop. The Columbine killings variously were blamed on Marilyn Manson, the 1995 film The Basketball Diaries, and the television shows Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Promised Land (10).

A handful of other cases arise from television programming. These are: Zamora v. CBS (11) [TV violence caused young Ronny Zamora to become addicted and desensitized to violent behavior, resulting in his killing an 83-year old woman]; Walt Disney Productions, Inc. v. Shannon (12) [11-year old child sought to reproduce a sound effect demonstrated on a TV program by rotating a BB inside of an inflated balloon]; Olivia N. v. NBC (13) [rape victim’s assailants allegedly acted upon the stimulus of observing a scene in a TV show]; and DeFilippo v. NBC (14) [minor hanged himself while imitating a stunt he observed on TV].

The outcomes of all of these decisions flounder either on the notion of “causation,” or the right to freedom of expression set forth in the First Amendment (15). None of them have validated a theory of recovery. For example, in the District Court of Nevada’s decision dismissing the Judas Priest case, the Court found that the scientific research presented at trial did not establish that subliminal stimuli, even if perceived, would precipitate the decedents’ conduct (i.e., killing themselves); and that there existed other factors that explained their conduct, independent of the subliminal stimuli (i.e., they were crazy) (16). In Zamora, the Court stated:

“Reduced to basics, the plaintiffs ask the Court to determine that unspecified “violence” projected periodically over television (presumably in any form) can provide the support for a claim for damages where a susceptible minor has viewed such violence and where he has reacted unlawfully. Indeed, it is implicit in the plaintiffs’ demand for a new duty standard, that such a claim should exist for an untoward reaction on the part of any “susceptible” person. The imposition of such a generally undefined and undefinable duty would be an unconstitutional exercise by this Court in any event. To permit such a claim by the person committing the act, as well as his parents, presents an a fortiori situation which would, as suggested above, give birth to a legal morass through which broadcasting would have difficulty finding its way” (17).

As articulate as they are on causation and the First Amendment, none of these decisions recognize the inherent opacity of the enterprise itself. Expanding on the concept of the “naturalistic fallacy,” it is not possible to derive the conclusion:

from the premise:

Put differently, the Los Angeles Times reviewed Mel Gibson’s movie The Passion of the Christ as the most violent movie ever made (18). Yet, it seems unlikely that it will precipitate a wave of copy-cat crucifixions. And, to keep this issue in perspective, isn’t persuasion the objective of “advertising” in any media? – i.e., the derivation of the conclusion “you ought to buy this” from the predicate facts “it has attributes a, b and c.”

1. Hilburn, R. & Crowe, J., “Rapper Tupac Shakur, 25, Dies 6 Days After Ambush; Crime: Artist known for songs of violence and regrets had been in critical condition since Las Vegas shooting,” Los Angeles Times (Sep. 14, 1996).

2. Moore, G. E., Principia Ethica 10 (1903).

3. Searle, J. R., “How to Derive ‘Ought’ from ‘Is,’” 73 Philosophical Review 43 (1964), reprinted in Foot, P. (ed.), Theories of Ethics 101 (1967).

4. Boehm, M., “Unstable Reactions Our Fault, Not Artist’s – The ways that one is affected by art depend on the individual. Rock musicians like Ozzy Osbourne are no more responsible than Goethe or Shakespeare for ‘encouraging’ suicides,” Los Angeles Times (Oct. 4, 1990).

5. Jensen, E. & Graham, E., “Stamping Out TV Violence: A Losing Fight,” Wall St. J. (Oct. 26, 1993).

6. Ibid.

7. “Suit Charges Lyrics Pushed Teen to Suicide,” Los Angeles Times (Jan. 14, 1986); McDougal, D., “Osbourne Denounces Suit in Teen-Ager’s Suicide,” Los Angeles Times (Jan. 22, 1986). In 1990, Osbourne was sued again in Georgia by bereaved parents who alleged that their sons had killed themselves because of subliminal messages found in the same song. Philips, C., “Another Day in Court for Rock Music Law: Just weeks after the Judas Priest case, Ozzy Osbourne faces similar suits over subliminal message,” Los Angeles Times (Oct. 4, 1990).

8, Philips, C., “The Music Didn’t Make Them Do It,” Los Angeles Times (Aug. 25, 1990); Marcus, A. D. & Hayes, A. S., “CBS Is Found Blameless in Music Suicides,” Wall St. J.(Aug. 27, 1990). The ruling was affirmed on appeal, Vance v. Judas Priest, 1990 WL 130920 (Nev. Dist. Ct.).

9. Philips, C., “Texas Death Renews Debate over Violent Rap Lyrics,” Los Angeles Times (Sep. 17, 1992); Reibman, G., “Suit Ties Cop’s Murder To Time Warner Rap Act,” Billboard (Sep. 19, 1992); Philips, C., “Testing the Limits,” Los Angeles Times (Oct. 13, 1992).

10. Braxton, G., “Tragedy In Colorado – TV Execs Quickly Shelve Offensive Shows – Entertainment – Violent episodes are pulled, and video retailers are asked to return ‘The Basketball Diaries.’ Marilyn Manson concert also is canceled,” Los Angeles Times (Apr. 23, 1999).

11. Zamora v. CBS, 480 Fed.Supp. 199 (1979).

12. Walt Disney Productions, Inc. v. Shannon, 276 S.E.2d 580 (1981).

13. Olivia N. v. NBC, 178 Cal.Rptr. 888 (1981).

14. DeFilippo v. NBC, 446 A.2d 1036 (1982).

15. For an overview, see Smith, C. R. “violence & media,” www.firstamendmentcenter.org (2006).

16. Vance v. Judas Priest, fn. 12 at p. 11.

17. Zamora, op. cit., 480 Fed.Supp. 206.

18. Turan, K., “A Narrow Vision and Staggering Violence,” Los Angeles Times (Feb. 24, 2004).

19. Although it enjoys somewhat less First Amendment protection from governmental encroachment than other types of speech, advertising is protected under the First Amendment, Central Hudson Gas & Electric Corp. v. Public Service Comm’n of New York, 447 U.S. 557 (1979).