Categories
Globalization

Basic Global Business Ethics in 20 Minutes

Basic Global Business Ethics in 20 Minutes

Note: This is a very academic approach. Users who want quick and easy answers will be disappointed. It usually takes several weeks of undergraduate training and reading for students to be able to use the principles described here effectively. Please provide a comment if you would like to see more materials added. There are 10 slides with an audio commentary for each.

Overview of Business Ethics


Definition of Business Ethics


Immanuel Kant Overview


Utilitarianism


Virtue Theory and Aristotle


Ross and Prima Facie Duties


Summary of Duties in Business Ethics


Example of Plant Closing


Example - Ford Pinto Case


Summary of Business Ethics



Created on December 22, 2018

 

Categories
Films

Mistakes in Film Criticism

1. THE AUTEUR THEORY. An idea popularized some decades ago by French intellectuals — basically, the idea that the meanings of films can be derived from their original intent, and this intent is controlled and manifested by the director of the film. The most often cited example is Hitchcock, who transformed “B” pictures into great works of art reflecting his own view of the universe. A more recent example: Tim Burton turned Pee Wee’s Big Adventure into something quite a bit more than a mindless kid’s movie. Hollywood and the general public continue to believe the auteur theory. Directors who do a surprising job with mediocre material (e.g., as Dennis Hopper did with Easy Rider) are often rewarded with more ambitious projects. The director’s reputation is sometimes a factor in getting the public to see films that might otherwise be ignored (e.g., Steven Soderbergh’s remake of Oceans 11 or Ang Lee’s Hulk).

The problem with the Auteur Theory is that it simplistic. While it is undeniable that the great directors leave an indelible stamp on their pictures, their input is only one of many factors that contribute to a great film. (See Aristotle’s list of elements in drama, elsewhere on these pages.) Most frequently overlooked is an obvious factor: the script. While the industry, and most film critics, have recognized the role of directors, screenwriters have been virtually ignored. The Screenwriters Guild went on strike over the issue. The strike (1999 or 2000?) lasted until the industry finally gave in to demands for increased public recognition of writers’ creative role in the production of films. During the strike, a member of the guild appeared on the TODAY SHOW. He said that we are in a culture that celebrates actors in stories rather than the creators of stories — and he implied (quite correctly) that there is something fundamentally wrong with this.

Directors do not (in their role as directors) create the basic narrative. Their role is more akin to that of a musician who plays and interprets a composition. By “basic narrative,” I mean the linguistic narrative. Defenders of the auteur theory might argue that film is essentially a visual narrative, and since the director controls the visual interpretation of the script, the director becomes the “author” of the finished product by default. First of all, any visual interpretation, while it can embellish (or even be at odds with) the series of events depicted does not itself constitute a new and independent narrative. The script, not the images associated with it, contains the essentials of the moral life posited by the characters. In my view (again, just following Aristotle), the structure of the plot, and the moral choices of the characters in the plot comprise the most important messages of a film. Second, as I (and many other philosophers) have argued elsewhere, the concept of a purely visual narrative simply does not hold water. Images have no meaning in an of themselves. They are given the potential for meaning by a narrative or story structure. Unless the director also writes the script, there is only a limited sense in which he is the auteur of the story.

One can respond, I think, to my comments above as follows. This is not the auteur theory at all. What we mean by the auteur theory is that the director transforms a written script into a visual language and creates a new level of meaning over and above the original narrative. And this is what is both interesting and creative about the role of the director in a film.

A response to this objection: True, a director can do these things. And in some cases, the role of the director, and the new levels of meaning introduced are the most important elements of the film. The works of many of the great directors (Ford, Welles, Hitchcock, etc.) usually cited as auteurs demonstrate this. But is it true in every case? Is this the only factor we need to look at? Do we need to get inside the director’s mind rather than the writer’s mind to understand a film? My objection to the auteur theory is not that directors cannot or do not introduce new levels of meaning, but that (1) this theory cannot serve as the only tool for criticism; (2) the fundamental moral meaning of a film derives from its script; and (3) the messages delivered by films are not essentially visual — rather, the messages delivered are due to a complex of factors (again, see Aristotle’s list of elements in drama) over which the director exerts only limited control.

2. THE THEORY THEORY. This is the idea that some specific perspective, generally one founded on some scientific, cultural, religious, sociological, moral, or intellectual ideology, is required for the correct criticism of all cultural manifestations expressed through the arts. The auteur theory (above) is similar in that it demands a certain perspective, but the theory theories are grander in scale. They are derivative of some total theory — one that purports to encompass virtually every aspect of social and political life. Examples include Marxist theory, radical Feminism, or any of the myriad other similarly inspired approaches. All these share a common thread: they posit that all cultural events, especially the productions of popular media for mass culture, are essentially a form of conspiracy to control the shape of human development in according to a some (evil) master plan, and it is the duty of the critic to expose this plan in order that cultural enlightenment will be brought about (according to the critics own vision of the good).

Such theories, in so far as they are applied to criticism of the arts, suffer from several flaws. First, like the auteur theory, they are simplistic. Theory-driven critics tend to lament the fact that popular media simply supports the prejudices of the status quo. It is, of course, true that the productions of mass media reflect the norms of the culture. But it is, in a sense, trivially true. What should we expect from popular media? Surely not anything that essentially calls into question all the presuppositions an prejudices that are built into the culture in which it exists! Cultures, and the popular media that run through them, generally seek some sort of stability; they do not try to commit intellectual suicide by trivializing or renouncing the values that they hold sacred.

Second, the theory-driven critic tends to become a soldier in a cultural war rather than a critic of the arts. Theory-driven critics are right to point out that evil cultures produce popular entertainment to support their value systems. After all, Nazi Germany produced films to support its agenda. This, however, is not the point of criticism of the arts. We can distinguish between propaganda and cultural artifacts (artistic productions) that exemplify both cultural and universal truths. The theory-driven critic tends to regard all popular media as propaganda — and he tends to pit his own vision of what reality should be against that propaganda.

Third, criticism driven by grand theories tends to develop its own “principles” of criticism, based on its own version of what would be best, according to the utopian vision of the critic. For example: “this image does not support the liberation of workers,” “this image retains the aura of a male-dominated society,” and so on. Eventually, these principles become so flexible that they evaporate into an empty repetition of formulas. Examples: Freudian psychoanalytic principles as an explanation of every form of human behavior; feminist principles as an explanation for every moment depicted in every film.

When “complete” critical theories are applied, they tend to subvert an authentic search for the good, the true, and the universal that may be embodied in the productions of popular media.

3. THE NO THEORY THEORY. The fall-back position from the theory theory is to take a diametrically opposed view. The “no theory” advocates say that finding the “correct” theory of criticism is not the problem. They assert there can be no “correct” theory because the concepts which underlie theory construction are flawed or outdated. The no theory advocates question (1)any type of universal theory of interpretation, (2) the idea that there are specific, original, or authoritative meanings to be uncovered by criticism, and even (3) the concept of truth itself. According to this line of reasoning, the idea that films (among the many other human productions that can be interpreted) actually have a meaning is false. A version of the no theory theory is reflected in an interesting article by Jo Smith. She states: “There is no lack or absence in a filmic encounter, no hidden meaning to be unearthed, no abstract body of knowledge to reach for to re-insert a meaning.”

The no theory theory is inherent in Postmodernism, which asserts that we should acknowledge the “death of the author” because readers (or spectators), conditioned as they are by pre-existing meta-narratives that define their social, political and intellectual horizons, clearly contribute just as much in the production of meaning as the reputed “source” of meaning, the author. Postmodernism capitalizes on the contemporary fear of “totalizing influences,” that is, of meta-narratives that control our thinking. I believe this view, while it has the benefit of making us conscious of our preconceptions, simply ignores the structure of the creative process in contemporary story writing, which follows well-known principles. One may question those principles, of course — but that is hardly the main job that needs to be done when one when one is intellectually engaged in appreciating a film. One does not need to question the rules of sonnet making when one reads and interprets a sonnet. The no theory theorists, are, perhaps, more in the right than the auteur theorists in recognizing that except in very rare cases there is no single author of a film, and they are right to caution us against over-reliance on conventional methods of interpretation. But by attempting to abolish truth and meaning they leave little in the way of possibilities for critical response other than a form of free-association with images and text. Furthermore, there seems to be a confusion in the no theory theory between having many levels of meaning an no meaning at all. To say that a sonnet has many meanings is not to say that it has no meaning, nor is it to exclude the possibility that some meanings gleaned through interpretation are better than others. Finally, the postmodern approach, in my view, is a kind of defeatism. It implies that we should give up searching for truths about the human dilemma that are expressed through art — or, worse, it implies that we should substitute our own “truth” for that of the artist’s. For additional arguments against the postmodern or no theory approach in the arts, see A. D. Coleman’s article on Cindy Sherman.

4. CONFUSING STORY CONTEXT WITH THEME. The story context of Forrest Gump is “a slow-witted man makes his way in the world.” The theme of the film, on the other hand, is a profound metaphysical issue: do we live in a world guided by chance or does God’s grace influence or control certain events? Do we live in an uncaring, mechanical universe, or is there something more complicated involved? The theme is introduced at the beginning of the film as a feather floats through the air (obeying chance and the laws of physics) and finally lands (by chance?) near the hero. Many people, even professional critics, mistake what is immediately presented (the action, setting, or context) for the theme or message of the film. Some critics, for example, objected to Forrest Gump as “a celebration of stupidity.” Such criticisms clearly miss the point. We can make the distinction another way: at one level in any narrative, there is a story line or setting; at another, there is what the author is writing about at the deepest level – his theme. The setting of The Iliad is the Trojan War, but the poem is not about the Trojan war per se. The poet uses the context of the war to address his themes: the consequences of uncontrolled anger, the folly of human pride and jealousy, and the involvement of the gods in human affairs. Similarly, Dirty Harry is the story of a cop who steps outside the law in order to track down a psychopathic killer, but one of the themes concerns justice in general: can we trust our system (or God) to bring people to justice? Now, one may argue that the vehicle chosen by an author is inappropriate to the theme. Hence, some people may think that both The Iliad and Dirty Harry seem more like celebrations of violence than serious treatments of important themes. But this is a different sort of aesthetic judgment, and it cannot take place until we have at least first attempted to differentiate story context from theme.

5. “POLITICAL” THINKING. A professor at Columbia University once informed the class that Rising Sun was a racist, politically-motivated film. The professor had not seen the film, nor had any members of the class. This fact stopped no one from passing judgment. The entire class agreed the film was racist. There should be, the professor went on to say, a review panel that would check the “messages” of any film before it was released. This “classroom moment” should have been televised: it might have later been enshrined as a defining moment for political correctness. Plainly this brand of PC revealed itself as the worst sort absolutism, with a strong attraction for people interested in obtaining moral and intellectual domination through mind control and social engineering.

This warped political consciousness is the foundation of one of the most pervasive styles of criticism in the United States. Examples abound: “this film carries the wrong message for contemporary women,” ” this film depicts black Americans in a negative light,” “this film glorifies violence,” and so on. Indeed, for some, how a film depicts blacks, women, or gays is the essential litmus test of the “quality” of a film. In any given case, such critical comments may, in fact, have some merit, but if that is the end of the analysis, then it is a mistake. One must first do justice to the essential questions relevant to the analysis of narratives:

1. What is the nature of the human character development (regardless of race or gender) that takes place in the film?

2. What is the nature of the conflict between good and evil?

3. Was the protagonist correctly motivated?

4. What did the protagonist learn as a result of his struggle?

5. What happens in the subplot? (As far as the message of the film goes, this may be more important than the plot.)

6. What universal themes are at issue?

These, among others, are questions essential to answer before one can begin to interpret the political messages that may be contained in a film.

6. EMOTIONALISM.“I liked it.” “It made me laugh.” It made me cry.” These and other similar reports on how a movie made us feel are sometimes mistaken for criticism. But reporting one’s emotions is not the same sort of activity as reflectively judging the overall quality of an artistic production. Critical, reflective, activity is always at one remove from emotional involvement. Of course, how an artistic production makes us feel is an essential part of criticism, but it must be part of other considerations. It is perfectly possible, for instance, to accept that a film has profound emotional impact (because, for instance, of powerful imagery or the sentimental nature of the story), but judge that the film is not, overall, a good film (because of lack of nuance, poor acting, predictable story, etc.). On the other hand, a film might lack emotional impact, but still be a very good film in most other respects. Confusing these issues is, perhaps, a less common mistake than others.

7. ELITISM. There is, for some people, a temptation to believe that whatever the hoi poli enjoy and endorse should not be enjoyed or endorsed by a “certain class” of people. So, for example, some people judge European films as invariably better than American films — simply because (so they believe) such films are not produced for a mass market, but are specifically intended for intellectuals. This attitude overlooks several important features of popular media, and of American films in particular. Many (if not most) great works of art have always been, and continue to be, produced with the intent of creating popular (as opposed to “class targeted”) art. In particular, the narrative arts are usually intended to be appreciated on many levels, by every “class”(Shakespeare, anyone?). While European “art” films that make it to this country often appear (on the surface) to be more intellectually sophisticated, it is not true, as a rule, that popular American films are always less sophisticated (and therefore for a lower “class”). The apparent differences in sophistication between American and European art films is often more a matter of how the films present their themes. The intellectual issues addressed in the themes of American films are usually covered over by more tangible elements that tend to increase audience involvement, such exciting plots, grand spectacles, or convincing demonstrations of the techniques of method acting. For those who wish to make the effort of analyzing the deeper layers of meaning present in many American films, there is plenty of material to satisfy the intellectual. The Auteur theorists, to their credit, accepted this truth and developed many techniques for the appropriate analysis of American films.

Categories
Films

Aristotle’s Six Elements of Drama

Pages related to this topic:
Recent Best Films
Narrative Structures in Films: A Mindmap
Thomas Mann on film: Text from “The Magic Mountain”
Mistakes in Film Criticism

During the last century, an astounding phenomenon has occurred: the world, particularly the Western world, has developed a universal language. This is the language of films. Since the 1920s and 1930s, French, Italian, German, British and American films have been mainstays of international cultural and artistic expression. American movies, in particular, have been enormously successful, appealing to audiences worldwide. Internet media, broadcast media, and print media carry stories about the latest Hollywood releases in addition to the all-important trivia surrounding the lives of the various stars. Cultural differences begin to disappear in the melting pot of the universal language of film narratives.

It is the enormous international popularity of American films that have led some to conclude that this must be the result of the dread scourge of the late 20th and early 21st centuries: cultural imperialism. Guilt by virtue of success. This kind of thinking is shallow at best. The narrative structure of popular dramatic art forms has not changed essentially since the days of Aristotle. It is by virtue of adherence to formulaic artistic criteria and the judicious use of defined narrative elements that all films, American and others, achieve their success. Good popular films are art forms like odes, sonnets, or fugues: they have specific formal requirements. Their artistic merit – and their popular success – is a result of meeting these formal requirements.

To understand the formal elements utilized by the contemporary film industry, it is useful to review the elements of drama introduced by Aristotle.

ARISTOTLE’S SIX ELEMENTS of drama are Spectacle, Character, Fable (Plot), Diction, Melody, and Thought. These elements (slightly modified and re-interpreted for contemporary audiences) remain essential to modern films. Aristotle claims that, contrary to what one might expect, Plot or “the form of action” is the most important element. This is because, in Aristotle’s view, the purpose of life “is a certain kind of activity” and drama ought to depict certain kinds of activity that we may learn the results of these forms of activities. Aristotle would reject the contemporary view (supported by insidious propaganda that acting is a high art form and by the public’s fascination with the lives of actors) that the depiction of Character is central or most important. Aristotle’s arguments for the primacy of Plot over character include the following:

“Character gives us qualities, but it is in our actions — what we do — that we are happy or the reverse” (Poetics, 1450a18).

“In a play accordingly they do not act in order to portray the Characters; they include the Characters for the sake of the action” (Poetics, 1461a15-20).

He concludes that Character is of second most importance (Poetics, 1450b1). Character does interplay with the other elements, but its primary importance (especially in films) it that it introduces morality. As Aristotle says, “…character is what makes us ascribe certain moral qualities to the agents” (Poetics, 1450a4). The third element is Thought. One must be careful in discerning this element, for this is not what the character says that may reveal elements of the character, but what a character says regarding important intellectual themes — or, as Aristotle puts it, “all they say when proving or disproving some particular point, or enunciating some universal proposition.” [In contemporary films it is sometimes asserted (with justification in some instances) that the director of the film actually controls “what is said or asserted.” This is done not through the dialogue, over which he has limited control, but through subliminal suggestion through the language of images alone. This idea of the correct way to determine the ultimate meaning of films is often referred to as the auteur theory. I reject, in part, this theory. See my Seven Mistakes.]

Below is a summary of the above three elements and the remaining four  elements, with examples, as they apply to contemporary films:

1. Plot: The Searchers — Horrible event befalls man; man initially chooses revenge, but finally chooses redemption and forgiveness.

Note: It is not always easy to describe how plot relates to theme and what I call story. It has been argued, correctly, following Aristotle, that there are only a few basic plots. If we state the plot of The Searchers as “man chooses revenge against INDIANS,” we have a different, more specific, understanding of the plot. Such a specific understanding cannot be considered a basic plot. A basic plot introduces THEMES. In this case, the basic plot of “horrible event befalls a man” introduces the theme of the POSSIBILITY of forgiveness. It does not introduce forgiveness as a narrative actuality, until that point in the plot where the character makes a moral choice. It remains as true today as in Aristotle’s time — and Hollywood writers generally accept it this — that a good story (film) MUST have specific “plot points,” or moments when the character makes a moral choice. By adhering to this rule, Hollywood writers can be said to accept Aristotle’s idea that plot, rather than character, is central. Further complexities of this issue go beyond the scope of my comments here. See my Seven Mistakes for more information.

2. Character: Rocky — Following Aristotle, we could ascribe moral characteristics to Rocky and how his character fits into the action as follows: Rocky is a man who has lost his self-respect. Fate (being selected by Apollo Creed as an opponent) allows Rocky the chance to regain his self-respect by working hard and taking on a seemingly impossible task (going the distance against the world champ). It is only through actions that Rocky can rebuild his character; he cannot simply will himself to have more self-respect. Hence, Rocky demonstrates Aristotelian character-building through action.

3. Thought: Forrest Gump — an example of a film showing how a character who has limited cognitive abilities may nevertheless be used as a mouthpiece for ideas relevant to a philosophy of life. Forrest says, “Life is a box of chocolates,” meaning “you don’t know what possibilities life has until you embrace them” or “do not despair because life seems to be a game of chance — that’s where the fun comes in!” Forrest Gump is, in fact, a metaphysical speculation on the role of chance in the universe (see Seven Mistakes, item number 4). Sometimes the hero states a more profound philosophy, such as the reasons we might have for self-sacrifice, as Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) does at the end of Casablanca. Another technique used by writers is the use of “throwaway lines,” in which characters can provide thought, or a conceptual background, in a film that may otherwise seem devoid of it. The Avengers (2012) has a number of these lines (see current home page). Additional reflections, largely from a Platonic rather than an Aristotelian perspective, on how philosophical concepts can be expressed in films are provided with my Mind Map of Narrative Structures.

4. Diction: In his Nichomachean Ethics, Aristotle calls for finding the “mean” or “middle” between extremes of character. In a similar fashion, in his Poetics, Aristotle suggests that extremes in diction be avoided. He calls for a mixture of poetic speech (use of metaphors, etc.) and common speech. Poetic speech adds interest and common speech provides clarity: “We need then a sort of mixture of the two. For the one kind will save the diction from being prosaic and commonplace, the rare word, for example, and the metaphor and the ‘ornament,’ whereas the ordinary words give clarity” (1458a25). Most films use prosaic speech throughout. In this sense, they probably fail to reach Aristotle’s standards for high art. A few films have adopted stylized speech throughout, such as True Grit (A). Some film adaptations of plays may represent what Aristotle had in mind, for example, Night of the Iguana (A), with Richard Burton. While we regard almost any film adaptation of Shakespeare as an example of high art, the language used is probably too inaccessible to current audiences to meet Aristotle’s “clarity” criterion.

5. Melody: Can be unnoticed (most films), or central to the impact of the film, e.g., the title theme from Star Wars (A). Today, composers of film scores are often considered major artists in their own right (John Williams, Max Steiner, Bernard Hermann, Elmer Bernstein) and some film scores are evaluated independently of films (see Digital Dream DoorWikipedia’s 100 Years of Film Scores, or Classical Music at About.com). The best films seek integration of the music with visual impact and major plot points. In many recent films, music often telegraphs emotional content, often to the detriment of particular scenes. Actors, directors, and producers rightfully fear having music overwhelm scenes or even entire films, throwing the film out of balance from an Aristotelian point of view. Major plot points are sometimes punctuated with specific musical events. For example, a bell chimes when Rocky (in one of the subsequent films) announces that he will fight again. Older films often utilize the power of silence: when a distraught mother calls her daughter’s name in M (1931), we only hear an echo from cold brick walls and see the child’s balloons drifting silently away. Musicals fall into a different category and deserve a more detailed discussion than can be provided here.

6. Spectacle: Visual Impact, the feeling of participating in large, grand events. Lord of the RingsBen HurSpartacus (Spartacus is an excellent example of a film in which all six elements are of high caliber). Currently, many films promote spectacle as if it were the most important element and the primary reason to see films. Dialogue (i.e., expressions of Thought) often recedes into the background, as screentime is dedicated to special effects. It is instructive to compare contemporary films with some of those in the past that succeeded in developing effective drama with minimal spectacle. Lifeboat (1944) is an excellent example of an artistic tour de force achieved without spectacle. Additional commentary and screenshots from the visually spare landscape of Lifeboat are available here.

Additional comments on some features of popular culture, with examples from films and comics, are available here.