This post is a response to the following question posted by Prof. Walden in Ethics and the Arts (Phil 23.01): Explain how someone might argue that Goodfellas is a good film in part because of its immorality. What do you think of this argument?
Assuming that Goodfellas is itself immoral, and that an artwork’s moral valence is related to its success formally, i.e., aesthetically, one could still argue that it is good qua work-of-art.
An aside: It is worth noting that the interrelation of moral and aesthetic value is not trivial. Autonomists deny that such a relationship exists (in the extreme), or that it is irrelevant (moderate). Ethicists/moderate moralists argue that art succeeds aesthetically when it elicits a merited response from its audience. A work of art either fails to elicit its intended immoral response from its moral audience or, in the case that it succeeds, it ultimately fails because such a response can never be merited.
But back to the immoralists!
The immoralists argue that there is cognitive value in assuming an unmerited response. For example, in the instance of Goodfellas, accepting the recommendation—or at least the glamorization—of the mafioso code. Namely: loyalty to the in-group is the ultimate good such that those human beings outside the in-group ought to be afforded no moral consideration whatsoever. This moral framework is wrong. That much is trivial. So how can sympathizing with the outlook embodied by the protagonists of Goodfellas, to one extent or another, ever be worthwhile? That is, how can it be cognitively enriching?
The core of Kieran’s argument was expressed best by Adam Smith in The Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759): The remote effect of vice is often virtue. To expound upon this point, Kieran and Smith believe that one can gain unique cognitive—in this case, moral—insight through direct, personal experience with that object of contemplation. Kieran extends the Smithian argument to include those imagined experiences in which we relate to/share/take on the immoral attitudes expressed by an artwork, especially those articulated by a narrative’s protagonist(s).
I agree with the immoralists that there are cognitive rewards to seriously entertaining the psychological, philosophical, and other motivations of a character’s vicious, prima facie unintelligible attitudes and actions. However, I disagree with the immoralists that this cognitive insight can only be reaped through artwork that foregrounds the evildoer, thereby implying an apparent author that defends his vicious attitudes and actions. For example, Guts and Griffith are the protagonist and deuteragonist of Berserk (1997), respectively. The show elicits sympathy for Griffith’s Machiavellianism throughout the show, thereby rendering intelligible to viewers his vicious actions. But it does not take Griffith’s side—Guts, Griffith’s second-in-command and best friend, is the (imperfectly) virtuous protagonist with whom we properly sympathize more; we join him in his opposition to Griffith’s monstruous amorality, as we ought to in our own lives.
Were Berserk to depict Guts as the deuteragonist and Griffith as the protagonist, it would attempt to elicit an unmeritable response in favor of the latter’s immoral (heinous, really) actions, making itself immoral and thereby worse according to the moderate moralist’s position.