The Delusion Of Moral Progress

       Kenneth Goodpaster makes it clear in his article, On Being Morally Considerable, that in order for we rational beings to offer moral consideration toward other beings, it need not be necessary that the beneficiary of our generosity be rational or sentient. This notion may come as great shock to some given that much of the theoretical progress made on environmental ethics concerns moral obligations toward non-human animals on the grounds that animals are sentient. For the animal liberation movement, this has been a good theoretical framework in which to advance their politics. However, Goodpaster feels that even this is too restrictive, and there are more participants in our world other than human and animal. Our ethical scope must come to include more entities than previously considered, and he believes that the primary component to being the beneficiary of moral considerability is life. While I do not disagree that life in itself can make any entity who has it worthy of consideration, cannot the scope be stretched to include the non-living as well? I aim to show that while Goodpaster makes light of an arbitrary mapping at the hands of other theorists in the ethical field, he himself does not step out from the shadow of such arbitrary prose.

       It's important to note that his reasons for criticizing prior theories involve the view that such theories are not as rational as they could be if their framework were to include all those who live under the eyes of moral consideration, which is why they are deemed arbitrary; they abruptly stop when there is more ground to be covered. It is this sudden halt that Goodpaster finds irrational. What I wish to impose is that he is no more or less irrational than those he criticizes, and in doing so suggest that the use of reason is one of the most popular means to disguise arbitrariness as progress. This is not to be a slight against Goodpaster, I actually find his text quite likeable. If anything, he assists me in the notion that moral consideration is less dependent on reason, and more so on care and effort.

       To start, I will give an overview of Goodpaster's view, including his response to some objections. Afterward I will present my own criticism and response. As mentioned from the start, Goodpaster is challenging the notion that either rationality, and/or sentience, be the necessary requirements for any entity to be the beneficiary of moral consideration; being alive is the plausible non-arbitrary criterion (while he italicized “being alive”, I chose otherwise for the purposes of my thesis). He immediately follows this claim up with a distinction between moral rights and moral considerability. The former is something he defines indefinitely but perceives it as something that is narrow in scope as it applies only to humans. While he does not consent to this view of rights, he shifts his focus on moral consideration, the view that while non-human entities may not have rights, this still does not prevent them from being considered in matters of moral treatment. An additional dichotomy he quickly mentions is between consideration and moral significance. The latter is thought to pertain to comparative judgments that mean to express a moral priority between competing cases of consideration. The simple example used is whether one should offer more consideration toward a dog than a tree.

       Moral rights and significance are both important concerns, but they are not what Goodpaster wants to focus on. He seems to express an epistemological doubt towards rights and significance, an important factor for his responses to objections later. While he implies that non-human entities should fit into both categories, he finds it best to establish that they do in fact fall into the jurisdiction of consideration, perhaps the only category that eludes the above mentioned doubt. This is so because an entity that is alive in any way falls into such jurisdiction. It should be obvious that there are many types of life-forms other than animal and human. Plants and insects are to name a few. Our planet is heavily coated with living entities, and Goodpaster observes two views that mean to limit our scope of consideration. The first is a Kantian view that restricts consideration to rational human persons. This is quickly dismissed in that children and the mentally disabled are not included in such a view. Next is Warnock's notion of potentiality, granting consideration to those humans who posses the potential for rationality. From this we should note that the mentally disabled may still not make the cut, and that it should take more than potentiality to give reason for consideration. Goodpaster proceeds to indicate the move toward sentience as the attribute that determines the scope of consideration and makes mention of a crucial aspect in the theoretical framework of this (and possibly all) rational discourse: the object of moral enterprise. The notion of this object is key to my criticisms later on, but what's important to note at the moment is that each age of rational thought to have found the object: first it was rational human persons, but rational culture came to see this as an arbitrary halt, and that sentience covered more ground. Goodpaster now sees the same mistake from previous culture in the current one.

       The face of sentience as the object of moral enterprise seems to have the best reasons as its support. Singer is one of the forerunners for said object, as he thinks there to be nothing to consider in the absence of sentience. It may even be said that it has come to be common sense to consider the well-being of those who have the capacity to suffer, especially when juxtaposed against non-sentient entities. Comfort in regards to cases of significance appear to be growing in relation to an expanding map of consideration. Infants, animals, and mentally disabled all make the cut this time round, so it would seem that we have included all possible parties under the roof of moral considerability. Not quite yet, thinks Goodpaster, as plants, as well as a whole host of natural life, are still the outsiders looking in. Referring back to the previous culture in which rational humans were the sole object (and for some today still are), it was thought crazy to extend the fence to include non-human entities. Without going into details, times changed, and now its thought as lunacy to extend the fence to all life. Too much ground to cover! This is a fascinating objection, one that Goodpaster deals with later, in that one recognizes that there is indeed further ground. This is not the case for all, as Singer indicates there is no more ground beyond sentience, but this objection is to include those who believe there to be more beyond the current fencing limits, but that our ethical plates our full enough with sentience. Good thing for Goodpaster, and all outcast life-forms, there are those of us who are still hungry.

       To continue with the hunger metaphor, those that perceive that there could be more ground to cover, and yet rather us remain content with the object we have offer reasons as to if we're not full why we should be. Goodpaster discusses Feinberg's idea of the “interest principle”, and how it aims at assisting the object of sentience. Although Feinberg speaks in terms of rights, Goodpaster chooses to interpret the conditions of interest in terms of consideration. The interest principle has two factors, the first of which is that only beings who can be represented can receive moral consideration, and in order to be represented one must have interests. The second is to be a beneficiary of moral consideration one must be capable of being benefited, and for that one must have interests. To examine interest in regards to representation, “mere things” do not qualify: a chair cannot be represented as being concerned over whether I sit on it or not. However, it is in human interest that a chair be in good condition for one to sit on. Mere things are purely instrumental to us, nothing more, and it is not difficult to observe interests in animals when they seem to use things to achieve ends, as a monkey that climbs a ladder at a zoo. Examples including infants and mentally disabled can be found just as easy, but what of plant life? Feinberg admits that plants are not mere things in that conditions of the environment can be good or bad for them, so he swaps terms to save his hypothesis and substitutes “mere things” for “mindless creatures”. This substitution implies that interests now comes in degrees, and that only higher forms of interests ought to receive consideration: desire, wants, aims, and other forms of more complex consciousness.

       While interests do not seem to expand the fencing, it does appear to make it taller. Sentience alone seems to make most content with how we position ourselves against outsiders, but with interest adding to its muscle, the satisfaction of rational ethical conquest is all the more apparent to everyone. Goodpaster attempts to disrupt this comfort by giving thought to the possibility that plants have interests, and that it should not matter what degree they come in. Given Feinberg's shift in terms, rational humans are conveniently placed at the highest end of the significance spectrum (we haven't left Kant that far behind us), but Goodpaster sees no reason why we should accept this shift, and we can easily imagine a representation of the needs of a tree not to be bulldozed for the sake of a parking lot. If this is so, then why resort to the life requirement? Interests appear to do the trick if we are to examine the ways in which, as Goodpaster observes, plants and trees maintain and heal themselves. However, if interests did the trick, then this discussion would be superfluous. The interests of non-sentients would already be contained in common sense much like the well-being of sentient entities.

       Despite expressing some hesitation to link the two, Goodpaster proceeds to discuss how our cultural dependence on the simplest type of hedonism that has come to determine the object of moral enterprise. He clarifies that neither the notion of sentience as the object, nor our type of cultural hedonism, entail each other. His claim is simply that they support each other. Given this, we are more irrationally inclined to deny interests toward plants and trees, and far more willing to take up Feinberg's idea of mindless creatures. This is to be heading dangerously in the wrong direction for Goodpaster. As mentioned before, the combined work of both sentience and interests give support to society's sense of rational progress, and because of which we might feel that to step out beyond this progress would be excessive. This can be thought similar to how we may have rejoiced at our “progress” as a society to develop certain technologies and an ever expanding string of laws, all while certain people were being restricted from voting (Africans and women). While Goodpaster thinks that the prior generation was blindly irrational, and that further progress of reason is needed, I'm more inclined to indicate that reason might support his cause to turn the focus on the “life principle”, but it is simultaneously reason that keeps it from getting off the ground.

       One last step before confronting my criticisms is to observe Goodpaster's responses to possible objections. I will not include them all, but only the ones that assist my thesis as well. The first objection alludes back to the idea that we have not left the Kantian concept of moral considerability entirely behind just yet. Some suggest that to make life the object of moral enterprise is to belittle the human status by implying that humans are no more considerable than plants. This can viewed as connected to the Kantian perspective because it is humans only that are belittled by this. We are still given priority, most likely due to our propensity for reason, or higher consciousness. After all, we're not the mindless creatures. Overall, this is to overlook Goodpaster's aims in that this objection is more an appeal to moral significance. He does imply that he thinks non-human entities should have a higher status on the significance scale, but this is too big a leap given our present cultural disposition. He leaves significance be, and simply seeks to include non-humans within the scope of consideration. As long as we are able to tell the difference, then including non-humans in consideration is not belittling.

       Next is more toward my criticisms as he entertains the objection that extending interests to non-sentient living beings lacks any sort of strong epistemic status. His response is simple: the same goes for you. The notion of sentience is aided by the interest principle, but Goodpaster is claiming that we are no more reasonably inclined to grant interests to animals than we are to plant life. It is hardly certain that the mentally disabled have interests as well, and yet we are hesitant to restrict them from being morally considerable. What is interesting about this response is that he is not claiming to have a sound epistemological grounding, but rather that his opponents are in the same boat. This may suggest tu quoque, which indeed it does, but this objection/response shines the spotlight onto the dilemma that both sides fail to see: the each think themselves to be the last step on the path of moral progress. Each age can be said to have thought itself the last. As I will soon discuss, Goodpaster is not tearing down the fence, but expanding it like those before him.

       The final objection, which is just as helpful to me, is referring back to the “too much” problem. Opponents to Goodpaster think that if the life principle is taken seriously, then it is absurd to think that anyone can actually live by it. There's hardly a moment that passes in which we are not doing harm to some form of life. The vegan, or vegetarian, who we can consider to be walking on a moral carpet by following the object of sentience will have the rug pulled out from underneath them. Goodpaster thinks this misinterpretation of his disposition is similar to the problem of the first objection, and that this is more an appeal to moral significance. Taking the life principle seriously may be a predicament for significance, as it should be, but not for consideration. The character of moral consideration is more an appeal toward “sensitivity and awareness, not for suicide”. Some may interpret this to water down his entire position up to this point. Are we ultimately being asked to simply have plants and trees in mind while they actively get the short end of the stick of moral significance? Kant still has presence in the form of his imperative!

       If this passivity is interpreted as a slight against Goodpaster, he defends it best by claiming that a shift toward such an awareness might help to cause a cultural reaction in the direction of better life-respecting practices. Many Native American tribes prior to English settlement practiced something similar to what he has in mind. The tribes people were well aware that life came at the hands of death, but a respect was shown towards those whom the tribe took from. An open field might have given way to tons of buffalo, but a hunter from the tribe saw it in himself to kill only one, or as few as possible. Ceremonies were conducted in form of forgiveness and apologies toward the environment used and the animals killed. This kind of belief made the degradation of the land and its non-human inhabitants quite difficult. However, it is this same kind of belief that the English saw as “savage”; there was little reason in holding prayer circles for deer, plants, and all other non-rational bodies. The Kantian perspective would offer very little to have prevented the buffalo massacre of the 1870s.

       What is it then to establish a moral boundary, or fence as I've come to refer to it as? Goodpaster's initial problem with the current state is that our current fencing arrangement is too exclusive. When we take his life principle into account this appears to cover all possible ground does it not? Those that object with “too much” can also recognize the arena beyond sentience, which ironically is the inspiration behind their objection. The life principle then seems as a truth they don't want to admit to. Then we truly are the last! Reason has finally achieved an all encompassing conquest with the possible acceptance of the life principle. Humans are a creative sort though (or at least they can be), and something else can always be thought to be the object of moral enterprise. Goodpaster criticizes Singer concerning his idea that there is nothing beyond sentience, but how is Goodpaster any different in saying there is nothing beyond life (as the object)? Both considered themselves to be the last in the age of reason. This is not to say that we cannot agree with either Singer or Goodpaster, in various aspects I agree with both of them. The consideration of sentience is what led me to be vegetarian, but the life principle is what troubles me about it.

       What I desire to shed light on is the notion that Goodpaster is doing nothing different than his contemporaries and predecessor in that he's erecting another fence. What are we barricading? Life covers all ground does it not? No. What about non-living entities? These can be “mere things”, as certain cultures come to place certain values on material, man-made objects. Some Christians will tell you that the cross around their neck is more than mere jewelry, as with one's wedding ring. A coworker of mine once lost his wedding ring while stocking items, came clean off. He was a manger, and while his immediate duties called for him to attend to both product and customers, he placed greater significance on finding his ring (which he failed). One could respond by calling his search unfortunate, yet irrational. Is this not similar to the settler's description of the “savage”? The term suits them best coming from a perspective that attributes moral considerability to rational humans alone, not trees or wedding rings (as though no settler ever lamented over the loss of a material item). As we discussed, this arbitrary halt has its problems, and so we expand the field to include sentient beings, but this excludes plants and trees. We can speak of the latter two in terms of interest, but seeing as interest is in allegiance with sentience, a good portion of our current culture is hesitant to include plants and trees in matters of consideration. The life principle oversteps this, however, and notices that neither sentience, nor rationality, is required of entities to receive consideration. The wedding ring, then, is just one requirement short of making the fence.

       The question then is why should the boundary stop where Goodpaster proposes? Boundaries and fences serve two purposes: to keep things in, and to keep things out. The dilemma is that each rational age looks to bring new things in, but in doing so continue to leave things out. In the process, each age believes that only the former is occurring, but why construct a boundary if not to exclude? As mentioned above, some believe there to be more beyond the set object of moral enterprise, but think it best to leave things out because it is neither possible, nor practical, to consider all. Each expansion imposes more obligations on those who are capable of providing benefits, and so each fence allows for some comfort. If we are to consider the objection Goodpaster addresses concerning the epistemic status of the object of moral enterprise, he is willing to plead a degree of ignorance insofar as his critics are as well. What Goodpaster shows is that each prior fence is grounded in just as much ignorance as his is, and that our desire for comfort in rational progress leads to an arbitrary establishment of the object. There does not seem to be any reason to stop the fence short of non-living entities apart from comfort.

       My coworker's wedding ring does not seem to have interests, but neither is it certain that trees and plants do as well in light of the criticism over epistemic status. In discarding the necessity for sentience, we do so for interests as well seeing as the latter was meant to provide support for sentience, especially in regards to moral significance. If trees and plants do not need interests in order to be considered, then why exclude the ring? Let us not overlook other non-living entities, such as the dead. There is much that can be said about this, and the idea of how the living honor the dead. I see nothing absurd in translating such honor in terms of moral considerability. Many religious dispositions ascribe certain rites to the deceased, as do the non-religious in the form of funerals. We can definitely imagine instances of disrespect in regards to disrupting the considerability of the dead, such as grave robbing, interrupting funeral processions, or not holding a funeral at all.

Plan 9 From Walter Benjamin

Art as an expression of citizens within a capitalist society is commonly viewed as an outlet, like a vent, through which people can healthily subscribe to variation from the system. Particular artistic endeavors serve to assist those with aspirations to live in a manner that is uncommon amongst average careers (desk jobs, customer service, etc), and yet still helps one to accumulate some form of finances to survive in our society. Art as a form of this kind of health has come to be seen as customary, and as such, acceptable within everyday practices of capitalism. Given this, the average reaction is simply to accept matters as such, and to view art as one career amongst many. Is it not problematic to take the side of the demon as opposed to attempting to thwart the monster's endeavors? The imposed necessity for finance and property accumulation can serve as a restriction on those types of expression that may not be useful for financial gain, but regardless are honest as to the feeling of the citizen. Art has taken many forms over the course of its existence through various types of cultures, and one of its most prominent features has been the assistance of ritual, and traditional foundation. This paper will discuss the dilemma Benjamin views our artistic careers as, and will include his criticism of art's origin in ritual. From this discussion I will offer a glance at the directing style of Ed Wood, as challenge to capitalist systematization as it has been proposed here.

The examination of our predicament will focus on Benjamin's text, “The Work Of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”, the start of which includes a proposition of a certain theses of art:

However, theses about the art of the proletariat after its assumption of power or about the art of a classless society would have less bearing on these demands than theses about the developmental tendencies of art under present [capitalist] conditions of production. Their dialectic is no less noticeable in the superstructure than in the economy. It would therefore be wrong to underestimate the value of such theses as a weapon. They brush aside a number of outmoded concepts, such as creativity and genius, eternal value and mystery—concepts whose uncontrolled (and at present almost uncontrollable) application would lead to a processing of data in the Fascist sense. The concepts which are introduced into the theory of art in what follows differ from the more familiar terms in that they are completely useless for the purposes of Fascism. They are, on the other hand, useful for the formulation of revolutionary demands in the politics of art.

Rather than for the artist to cooperate with our capitalist system, that Benjamin identifies as Fascist, such practices are proposed as being a possible weapon against the system. Thinking in terms of what it would be like for art to exist in a society in which the proletariat has prevailed does not assist our current condition. Benjamin wishes to build on a style of art that challenges any kind of rational participation in financial gain to the extent that one's practices seem to jeopardize one's chances at success. At first glance, some may be troubled by such notions. Current artists might even take offense at such criticism that any sort of participation in financial gain affiliates one with Fascism. As stated above, artistic enterprises are often viewed as a type of variation from systematization. This doesn't seem to be the case for Benjamin in that such practices do not succeed, or in some cases do not even attempt to disrupt the system, but instead seek compromise. Another aspect that may seem troubling is what is proposed as “brushing aside” ideas like creativity, genius, eternal value, qualities often seen as essential to art and its practitioners.

The customary foundations of art are placed on the chopping block as Benjamin seeks to cut away from attributes that are usually viewed as essential for artistic practices. Seeing as current art participates in financial gain, which indicates one's allegiance to the system, one cannot hope to sabotage fascism through current practices. The system is only fed by our desire for financial security, and that desire is driven by success. There can be only specific ways in which one can be successful in our modern age, and thus the face of art is determined by financial desires. The finished product of one's work has to have a certain appearance that is assisted by specific aspects of personality: creativity and genius are two. As he states, Benjamin also thinks that the product itself must harbor particular attributes to acquire success: eternal value and mystery to name a few, but these are key in that they signal to audiences the special quality that the product has is the result of unique personal attributes. Access, by audiences, to art is thus limited to those with such attributes. This is not to deny that anyone can be audience to such works, but the understanding of them as art is for the unique few who then offer authoritative commentary over any given interpretation. Traditional thought concerning the given properties and personal attributes are more a weapon against the masses rather than being marks of accomplishment by a society for they indicate a dichotomy between certain people in which one set is elite, in that they are successful, and the other is lacking in some degree. An art project that is seen as qualitatively poor by society cannot be an example of success, so it's thought that its creator cannot be an instance of genius. Society is driven to this judgment by a history that has put the dichotomy in place, but how is it that it acquired so much force in the first place? As Benjamin examines the history of art within ritual, he paints a picture in which the creatively plentiful elite are placed in a position to command while the lacking masses are subject to obey.

The interpretation of history that is offered is saturated by Benjamin's notion of “aura”. His analysis of the aura is rather vague, but what can be gathered is that the aura of an art object consists of its being situated within its particular time and space of origin. One way he helps us to understand is to consider newer practices of mechanical reproduction due to advances in technology. Photography is one he places great emphasis on, and with the development of the camera, one is able to sneak a picture of what some culture may consider a sacred object. An example would be to consider statues of the virgin Mary, and how they are covered in order to maintain that only those with the proper sight, which can be translated as the proper “understanding”, are permitted to see them. This sort of treatment assists in embedding certain objects into the framework of ritual, as the objects are taken to be sacred and available to only a select few. With the advent of the camera, however, one can capture the image of an object, and take it home to treat as eye candy regardless of whether such a person has the unique attributes that grant access. While the photograph, as an instance of reproduction, may grant one sight in one's own home, it fails to capture the aura in that what cannot be reproduced is the object's unique existence within a certain time and space. It's in this way that Benjamin notes that instances of reproduction always depreciate an object's “historical testimony”.

The primary way in which we are assisted to grasp the idea of the aura is to consider it as that which is lost in the process of mechanical reproduction. While tradition may see this as a bad thing, Benjamin will ultimately come to say “good riddance!”. The aura does not travel with the image produced by a camera because a crucial aspect to the aura is that it is marked by distance. More will be said about this when we return to the idea of “eternal value and mystery” as necessary properties of an art object, but for now consider mechanical reproduction as a technique to bring closer what was once distant. With the example of hanging the photograph in the room, this is an attempt to erase the gap between a sacred object and the public, but reproduction depreciates an object's aura in that it cannot capture its historical testimony. We can think of this testimony as the object's use in ritual within the time and place it was initially created. An object's use within ritual grants it authority: only that object will do, and it must be used and thought about in a certain way; it is also a beacon for particular values that participants seek to embody and teach. Its authority is maintained by its authenticity, which holds so long as the object is accessible by a select few who use the object to conduct rituals. Any attempt at reproducing the object outside of the context of ritual diminishes its authenticity, which in turn injures its authority. This last idea is crucial to Benjamin's critique in that this is exactly what we want to do.

The process and structure of isolating a unique factor of an art object from the public has helped to develop people into a systematization that pushes them into subjecting themselves to the authority of those who claim to have access to the authenticity of the art object. This is the tradition of expertise and knowledge that Benjamin identifies with fascism. Glancing back out our initial examination of creative personal attributes, affiliating genius with artistic practices assists in instigating the notion to any onlooker to a work of art that she only wishes she can do that. If we were to question the onlooker as to why her participation is dubious, the response would most likely appeal to standards of success. We can identify those properties that an object must have in order to maintain success as the ones listed before: eternal value and mystery. These are both key aspects of the aura that is meant to imply distance. Regarding natural objects, while we may be able to see a mountain range, we are unable to grasp or fully harness it. What slips through our fingers is the aura. Seeing as the aura is something that does not give itself over to reproduction, its existence can be thought of as eternal in that while the reproduced object decays in time, the aura is something that does not travel with it. As it concerns an object's mystery, this is to return more to the personal attributes in that not everyone can fully access the object given that its authenticity is aligned with its distance. Similar to ritual, only those with certain expertise can understand an object as being a work of art, for everyone else the matter is an unsolvable riddle. As long as art remains the best kept secret of those with the understanding, the onlooking public will always be held captive by the authoritative relationship between genius and mystery.

 

Returning to our example of the onlooker, we can imagine she makes an attempt at art, but very few, if any, appreciate the work. Furthermore, we can suppose the attention it receives is one of disdain. The onlooker's doubts are confirmed: lack of success is clearly an indication that she is not a creative genius, and the gap between her and the authenticity of art works is wider than she previously imagined. Her old attitude is amplified, she now leaves art to the “experts”, the evidence of their status being held tightly in their wallets. The onlooker succumbs to the system by acknowledging that the evidence is didactic. Genius and mystery aid in systematization by substantiating, or representing, certain values that the onlooker is necessarily inclined to submit to. Even though the minute details of ritual may not be as common as they used to be, the same exploitation of mystery is still expressed through the arbitrary allegiance between authority and success.

Film and photography may not be the first instances of new technology making reproduction of art works more common, but they are huge steps toward possibly shattering the authoritative foundations of aura and financial success. For values in ritual to manifest there must be an autonomy between the art object and the cult figures. This is similar to the autonomy maintained by the successful in regards to accumulated wealth and creativity. Benjamin expresses great faith in film's ability to disrupt such autonomy by its ability to shatter the distance, and show that an arbitrary organizing of fragments is what's at work. There is no doubt that contemporary works of cinema are thought of in terms of success and failure, and that film can also assist capitalist structures, but Benjamin believes that it is in a better position than other art mediums to exhibit weakness in the autonomous structure between the elite few and art. In this sense art has political purpose and acquires the capacity to have social significance. Art as it pertains to its place in ritual has significance more for the isolated elite in that their access is direct and managerial: it is prepared for the public so as to better express systemic values.

The production of film involves the arbitrary piecing together of recorded fragments that are the visual reproductions of particular environments and actors. The final product is a constantly changing array of images that prevents audiences from perceiving any type of aura. Instead, audiences are placed into the position of developing a critical attitude. The goal of reproduction is to eradicate the distance factor, bridging the gap between different aspects of reality, such as our case of the photograph brought home, and when it does not seem to do so a critical attitude takes shape, and the public becomes more aware of the fragmented plight we are in. Simply put, in our capitalist system, it is those arts that fail, that are not marketable, that serve a political purpose. In the practice of cinema, I find no better example than Ed Wood. Pop culture regards Wood as the worst movie director of all time. His magnum opus, Plan 9 From Outer Space, is viewed as one of the worst movies ever made. The elite attitude considers his work to be vacant of any of the necessary properties of success, and thus Wood cannot be consider a genius in any way. Certain films are considered successful, and because of which these features obtain an authority that enables a judgmental juxtaposition to take place. However, what failure pieces do is help indicate that successful works are involved in the same kind of reproduction that failures are. The only manner in which failures differ from successes is that the latter is profitable. Otherwise, all films are involved in optical testing: audiences are brought “closer” to the environments and actors through the fragmented recordings of the camera.

Both actors and environments lose any sort of authority in front of the camera. These notions of aura and authority attempt to support that the artist is creative and exhibits genius because the product has qualities of eternal value and mystery. Film is not the only reproductive technology, but it does well to indicate that geniuses are involved in reproduction like anyone else. Oscar winning films are essential in supporting the authoritative foundations that genius and mystery purport. Failed works, like Wood's, have the potential to pull away the curtain and show that the distinction between “author and audience” is not so clear. Wood's films incorporate tons of stock footage from unrelated films, single-take shots, poor lighting, crude sound recording, cheap sets, and actors whose skill is definitely in question. Each of these aspects is more than obvious to any eye, elite or not, and yet the product is a feature film. Any audience member is able to see that something is amiss as the different pieces of the filming process are glued together in way that indicates that a piecing-together process is at work.

The photograph and other forms of reproduction may be able to better fool those who obtain such works that they are in touch with unique authoritative content. A failure film strips any objects that are being filmed from having any authoritative power. The actor is separated from the audience, and is unable to adjust to the mood of the crowd, as one might on stage. An adjustment seeks to stabilize authority, and does so by accommodating to the mood of the audience. The audience is unable to perceive that something is amiss amongst the authoritative figures as their so-called genius is really a kind of “playing to the crowd”. A similarity can be drawn between the stage actor and the cult figure within ritual, as the latter is more able to bestow values to a crowd if the figure's genius eludes all doubt. Before the camera, the actor, and everyone involved, has no idea how the audience will react, and if the temperament of the people is not accommodated to, then critical emotions may arise. The film attains social significance in that the public comes to be distracted by the critical attitude and starts to apply it towards their living environment. Our cities are filled with streets, buildings, sidewalks, sign posts, all sorts of edifices that are meant to direct the movements of people so as to allow better participation within the system. The design of these different entities work very much like art in that they exhibit an authoritative power given that they come from the minds of geniuses. The average citizen is not qualified to put up a sign post, it requires someone with expertise that understands the framework of the city; expertise offers the position of telling others how to move. Wood was trying so hard to be one of these figures within the aesthetics of cinema, but his inability to glue fragments of filming together left visible gaping holes through which audiences are able to question authoritative foundations—the onlooker is now able to say to oneself, “I can do that!” Seeing as Wood was so emotionally inclined to organizing fragments in the manner we see in his films, what enables us to think that those experts are doing anything different? It's in this way that Benjamin feels that the divide between author and audience is blurred, and that anyone can take up instruments around them are start piecing together the fragments of our world together in any which way they please. An awareness of the arbitrary nature of the construction of cityscapes begins to stir as the public questions the genius of the art around them, as well as the success that tends to follow.

Wood's films failed to acquire any sort of financial success, and so his films were useless in establishing any authoritative foundation. His reproductive processes are viewed as nonsensical, such as in scenes in which characters are knocked over in a graveyard, taking down the plastic tombstones beside them. These kinds of blunders are shocking for audiences in that they are used to being accommodated to: we all thought we were in the hands of experts! The disruption of comfort presented by Wood's features makes salient the discord between filmed fragments, and one begins to wonder “if a yahoo like Wood can gain access to cinematic processes of capturing and gluing visual fragments together then why can't I?” The political significance that comes about is the undermining of the artistic autonomy of genius and mystery. The language of aesthetic criticism, then, is nothing more than an appeal to marketability. Wood's films are bad insofar as they do not secure profits; genius and mystery are simply a way to keep intact the capitalist structure in which profits are the goal.

The critical eye that accumulates within audiences potentially aims itself at environmental structures and authoritative figures—if Wood is involved in arbitrary construction of elements, then perhaps everyone else is as well. The critical response towards art works helps the public in collecting courage to administer the questioning eye towards cult figures, and doubt is placed on whether or not such figures possess the genius that they claim to, or if the mystery of an art object is not just some ploy produced in the process of piecing together fragments of reality. It's clear that Wood is no authoritative figure, and if we interpret his works as being involved in similar processes of those we thought to be authoritative, then the authenticity of such figures and works is jeopardized and loses its value administering power over people.

Wood, by ironic consequence within the framework of capitalism, is a revelatory hero by passing authorship amongst the public. Art is not for the special few, but is for anyone who has the will to create. Mechanical reproduction cripples the soundness of the aura, but this is all for the better. Anyone who takes up a camera is an expert—the processes and motions of the elite few are made more available to the public in the advent of new technology. Similar to how reproductive processes devalue an object's authenticity by removing it from its historical testimony within ritual, the elite lose their grasp on authority the more removed their practices become from genius and the distance factor. As the quantity of experts increases in the wake of mechanical reproduction, the fight over quality starts to shift, and those works that stray away from aspirations of success are a crucial weapon against an oppressive system that demands of its public to excel in a way in which wealth determines value.