The Responsibility of Art

In society, we tend to subscribe to a belief that depictions of violence in art – be it in a film, a video game, a novel, or any other form – could invite real-world acts of violence in response. This begs an important question: should an artist bear any responsibility for what happens when they put their art out into the world?

According to French philosopher Jacques Maritain, art can function in two ways: as ‘Art for Art’s sake’ or ‘Art for the people’. These two ideas are essentially in opposition. Art for Art’s sake ‘simply disregards the world of morality,’ whereas Art for the people speaks to art that wants ‘to raise the needs or ideals of the community’. In other words, we can view art as something separate from the society it is produced into, or we can view it contextually as both influenced by and impacting on that society.

So, if we’re talking about the role of the artist and their potential responsibility, which motto is the right one? Should art exist for art’s sake, without fear of censorship or bite-back? Or should art be produced with an understanding of particular cultural values and any potential consequences that might ensue? Of course, demanding that an artist predict what consequences might follow is unfair and probably impossible, because when a piece of art enters the world, it is experienced by different people with different worldviews and is, therefore, unlikely to elicit a universal response.

And yet, it is necessary to consider the links between art and real-world consequences; specifically, violence in the name of art. In 1971, Warner Bros. released one of the most controversial films in history: Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of A Clockwork Orange. The film follows a young man and his band of thugs as they embark on a brutal and chaotic crime spree, which includes beating and raping innocent people. In the wake of the film’s release, a series of incidents occurred that seemed to resemble the violence enacted in the film. Shaken by the events, Kubrick asked Warner Bros. to withdraw the film from theatres while also defending his work, arguing that ‘[t]o try and fasten any responsibility on art as the cause of life seems to me to put the case the wrong way around. Art consists of reshaping life, but it does not create life, nor cause life.’ 

A similar situation ensued following the release of Todd Phillips’ controversial 2019 film Joker, which was interpreted by many as a tale about white male rage exploding into violence. Like A Clockwork Orange, Joker was subject to much the same defence offered by Kubrick with Warner Bros. stating that the film is not supposed to be ‘an endorsement of real-world violence of any kind.’ But whether a piece of art is ‘supposed’ to be something or not is sort of beside the point. Artists don’t get to determine the final meaning of their art, because to do so would undermine the fact that art is, above all, subjective.

Thankfully, no violent acts were carried out in Joker’s name, though it’s notable that the film did not play at the Colorado movie theatre, where a mass shooting occurred during a 2012 screening of Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises. Yet, even if violent acts had occurred, would it be unfair to attribute responsibility to Phillips or Warner Bros. or the film itself? Just as Charles Manson claimed to have been inspired by the Beatles’ White Album in his planning of the infamous Tate-Lafayette murders, and the most toxic of Breaking Bad fans saw Walter White as a hero, we can’t judge the value of the art by its worst receptors. Can we?

Generally speaking, I would not ascribe any direct responsibility to the artist for actions of other people who draw their own harmful conclusions from that art, though, I can understand the temptation to do so. Ultimately, though, while art doesn’t tell us what to do, it can, as noted by Kubrick, reshape how we see the world. It can create new thought channels, new possibilities of being, and it has the capacity to either confirm or deny beliefs and behaviours. In this sense, the artist bears a strange, unnamed burden. Not quite responsibility, but perhaps something proximate.