Finishing off my MA thesis

When I was pregnant with my son, it was a problem-free pregnancy and I didn't mind being the size of a house and having a baby jumping around inside me. But as I reached my due date, I started to want him out; not just because I was looking forward to motherhood, but because I was just sick of being pregnant. A week after my due date, I was REALLY sick of being pregnant and I just wanted the pregnancy to be over with. He finally arrived 10 days after the due date, and although I'd enjoyed pregnancy, I was so glad it was finally over with. (Of course, I soon realised that motherhood was a thousand times harder than pregnancy, but that's another story!)

I feel the same way now about my MA thesis as I did about pregnancy: it's been fun, but I want it over with. On the other hand, it feels like there's just not enough time to get it finished to a really good standard, even though I've been working on it for an eternity. I guess that's another parallel with pregnancy: no matter how much preparation you do, you're never quite ready for it.

My argument has generated far more interest than I expected it to; I thought people might be squeamish about talking about sexbots, but I should have credited people with more maturity. My work has been a talking point among my friends, family, and other academics, so of that I am grateful. At least my work is not so obscure that it's impossible to explain to the lay person, and every couple of weeks I see a sexbot related news article or something that someone sends me via email. I've pushed "not safe for work" to a whole new level, with people sending me all kinds of grisly stories.

I'm hopeful (but not expectant) that my work can be published in a journal. There's very little work on sexbots in the philosophical literature, so that is a point in my favour, but novelty shouldn't (and won't) be mistaken for quality, so I'm still going to have to produce something of a really high standard if I want it out there on Philpapers. Hopefully my MA thesis is a reasonable quality, but I'm so close to it I just can't tell any more. I've spotted a couple of holes in my argument but I'm not sure whether they are insurmountable failures or minor imperfections. They seem glaringly obvious to me because I've been embroiled in it for so long. Maybe others won't really notice them... or maybe they will. I suppose that there can't be many philosophy papers - if any - which present an argument so perfectly that no one has any criticisms of it. (Gettier's paper is the only one I can think of which comes anywhere close to universal acceptance.) So maybe a flawless argument is an impossible, unachievable goal to strive for.

Anyway, it's due in tomorrow, so there's not a lot I can do between now and then if my work is rubbish. I might have to resort to crossing my fingers until I get the grade back.

Best. Conference. Ever.

A couple of days ago, I returned home from what was, as the title of this post suggests, the best conference ever. Now admittedly, I've not been to loads and loads of conferences (maybe 10?) so I don't have much frame of reference, but I think I can say with some confidence that this was the best conference ever. I fear that few or no conferences will ever come close to the very high standard which has now been set.

I shan't name names, because it may only embarrass those involved, and I wouldn't want them to be the targets of conference-envy (is that even a thing?!) Anyway, the conference was held in Portland, Oregon, on the west coast of the USA. I think America is a fantastic country anyway; I've spent around 5 months there in total, and have visited 8 States (Oregon is number 9!)

The 5-day conference is an annual event, meaning that several of the attendees have known each other for some time - some for as long as 25 years - although I didn't realise this until a few days in. As one might expect from a conference, it involved different speakers presenting papers on a range of related (ish) topics; presentations began at 9am each day, and some days continued on until 9pm (other days we finished earlier at 5, 6, or 7pm). So on paper it was a fairly gruelling schedule... but almost all of the papers were really interesting, and so it didn't feel gruelling at all. There were about 25 or so people there at any one time, and we ate lunch together, we went out for dinner together in the evenings, and for drinks afterwards, and they were so welcoming and so much fun to be around. Sometimes when there is an established group of friends, it all gets a bit cliquey and newcomers are sidelined (sometimes unintentionally) as old friends want to catch up with one another, but this really didn't feel like that at all: I was welcomed into the group with open arms, and it felt like I was meeting up with a group of friends I'd known for years. Ah, they were great people!

The people I met were - almost without exception - left-wing liberals, atheists, Trump-hating, anti-gun, immigrant-sympathetic, they believed that climate change is happening, and children should be vaccinated. The news (or is it "Fake News"??) would have me believe that Americans are none of these things. At any rate, no one expressed any right-wing, creationist, Trump-supporting... (etc) views. I guess I wasn't seeing a representative sample of the population, but I'm not complaining.

Conferences I've been to in the UK have primarily consisted of people clicking through a powerpoint and talking about it, but it would seem that the American style of presentation is somewhat different: "presenting a paper" can mean to literally read through an essay word-for-word (with the standard 30 minutes of Q&A afterwards, of course). My style of presentation felt somewhat at odds with this standard: I suppose that 14 years of teaching A-Levels has got me used to a more informal style of presentation which might appear low-brow or inarticulate to some viewers, so that was a concern... but thankfully my concern was unwarranted and a couple of other delegates described my presentation as "a breath of fresh air" and "the highlight of the week". A wife of one of the speakers said to me "I'm a non-philosopher, and I can tell you, I find so many presentations dull because I just don't understand them -- but I understood yours! It was great!" I'm taking that as a compliment.

Portland is a great city, and felt really safe. I've been to New York City and I did not feel safe there; once darkness descended I felt anxious that I might get attacked or shot! OK, I was 20 and it was my first time travelling alone, but still, there seemed to be a lot of gang members on the streets at night. But Portland was really lovely place, and I didn't worry at all about getting shot!

So overall, it was a fantastic experience, and I felt genuinely sad at the end of it. It's going to be pretty hard for any conference to top it. However, it's an annual event, so maybe I'll manage to attend again next year...? To quote my sister (who was being sarcastic when she heard I'd be travelling all the way to the USA to present my paper) "people must really want to hear about sex robots!"

Funded PhD scholarship - secured!

It feels like it's been a really long road towards securing funding for my PhD, and I won't lie: there have been tears along the way. But this week I got the news I've been waiting for! I've been awarded a fully-funded scholarship to research exactly what I want to research, at the university I want to study at (ie where I currently am: the University of Nottingham) and I am so happy, relieved, and excited that I can hardly contain myself.

There have been a few opportunities to apply for funding over the past year, and I've applied for whatever I could. Earlier in the year (April maybe?) I got through to the final 'round' of scholarship awards from the funding body I most wanted to be funded by, only to fall at the final hurdle. It was a tough blow, not least because I am currently not working, and I have a mortgage and a young child to support, and I need income from somewhere in order to put food on the table. So that was very disheartening, but there was still a glimmer of hope because I had heard word that there was set to be some funding available for arts and humanities research in the field of AI, which is exactly my preferred field of study.

I think it's probably fair to say that it was science fiction which cultivated my interest in philosophy before I even knew what philosophy was. Time travel paradoxes, robots with feelings, mind-body swaps, the ethics of dealing with alien cultures - ah, I love it! Throughout all these years, I've continued to enjoy sci-fi and philosophy, but separately. But the opportunity to study emerging technologies through the lenspiece of philosophy, well, I'm in heaven! So when I found out about a funded scholarship studying how AI robots should conceive of consent/harm, I didn't need to think too hard before applying.

What can I say, the rest is history: I applied, I was selected, offered the scholarship (covering fees, plus a living stipend), and I accepted. Now I'm just finishing off my MA dissertation before starting work proper on something I can't wait to get started on: it's like a dream come true for me. Yes I know that's a cliche, and I'm sure it will be difficult, hard work, and at times maybe exasperating, but right now I am just filled with excitement for what lies ahead over the next three years.

Bring it on!!

The value in atheists learning about the Bible

This morning, my son refused to go to school. Why? Because yesterday, his teacher had told the class the story about Jesus feeding the 5000 with only two fish and five loaves of bread, and it angered my son.

I am an atheist, and like most parents, I have shared my belief system with my offspring, and now he believes what I believe (ie there is no God). So this morning when he was flat out refusing to go to school (which is very unlike him) I tried to offer an explanation of (a) why I think the story was written in the Bible, and (b) why it might be useful sometimes to learn about things we don't believe in.

Man trying to catch lunch for him and his 4,999 friends

My son is only in Key Stage 1 of primary school, so my discussion with him was fairly basic. First I got him to consider how big a fish is. "Any size" was his very reasonable answer - for example, feeding 5000 people with two whale-sharks (the world's largest fish) is quite plausible, and to the best of my knowledge, the Bible does not describe what type of fish was shared out. Then I suggested to my son that a story can alter a little bit with each person who tells it: A describes Jesus as feeding a small group with two large fish; B describes Jesus feeding a group with two fish; C describes Jesus feeding a large group with two small fish; D describes Jesus feeding an enormous crowd with two tiny fish - etc.

So I'd explained why the story was in the Bible when it wasn't (as far as I'm concerned) true, but still my son said he didn't think there was any point in learning something that isn't real or true. I gave him simplified versions of the arguments I offer below. I'm not sure he was entirely convinced, and I'm not sure I'm really convinced there is value in knowing lots of stories from a religion one doesn't believe in. I know that as a parent I have the choice of whether to withdraw him from religious education, but I am reluctant to do so, and I said that it is sometimes worthwhile learning things even if we don't believe them.

The arguments I make below are:
(a) It's interesting to learn stories even if we don't believe them
(b) It's useful to know the sorts of things other people believe

It's interesting

Part of our job as parents is to point out
what's real and what's not real.

I don't believe in fairies, pixies, unicorns, gods, or dragons, but sometimes it is interesting to know stories about these things. Stories about magic and impossible events can be exciting and marvellous. Reading about fictional beings, people and events can make for a great story. In fact, just about all of the best stories known to man are fictional, so fiction is obviously great.

God can seemingly do the impossible in the Bible, so that makes for a fun story. The Red Sea parting, turning water into wine, immaculate conceptions, man coming back from the dead, and indeed feeding 5000 people with two fish - these are fantastical stories which it can be fun to learn about.

That's what I told my son anyway.

But for my own part, I hated learning about religion in school: by age 7 or 8, I began to feel irritated and cheated when a story was presented to us as if it were fact, when I was pretty sure that it wasn't. For example, I recall being told several of Aesop's fables in this way, and I was particularly annoyed when we were told the story about How the Tiger got his Stripes. The teacher read it to us in assembly and prefixed it by saying it was a true story: upon hearing the title and that it was a true story, I remember being eager to find out why tigers have stripes, because I didn't know. And then when he told us the story - that the big cat had been tied to a tree and the ropes set on fire, and the black lines are where the ropes burnt into its fur - I felt cheated. He'd said it was true, but I knew it couldn't have been, because I realised that one tiger being burnt wouldn't make all tigers have stripes. And whenever we were told a religious story, I felt exactly the same: the teachers said it was fact, but I felt sure that it wasn't. (I went to a Church of England primary school, so there was plenty of religiosity each week - and my parents sent me to Sunday School for a couple of years, which was torturously dull.)

So I had sympathy for my son being annoyed at being told that Jesus had fed 5000 people with two fish and five loaves of bread, and he was insisting to me: "It's not possible to do that, so why did they say it was?" I felt for him, but I said that sometimes it's fun to learn a new story even when we know it's not real. I'm not sure whether I convinced him, but I didn't convince myself.

The difference between learning a Bible story and a story about dragons is that teachers don't suggest that the dragon stories are real. As a parent, I think that kids learning Bible stories is OK when it's prefixed by "There's a story which says that..." or even "Some people believe that..."  I think I would have been OK with that as a child, and I think my son would have been OK with hearing the Bible story had it been prefixed in such a way. My son - like me as a kid - is quite happy to hear stories about talking animals, goblins, wizards etc. so fiction isn't the problem; the problem comes when a story is presented as fact when it is entirely at odds with what seems plausible. So by all means tell kids the Bible stories, but suggesting that they are factual isn't reasonable.

It's useful

Now I argue that it's useful to know about religions that we don't believe in for three reasons:

1. To be sensitive to others' beliefs and live in harmony with those around us
2. For the sake of general knowledge
3. To help reinforce our own beliefs and know what we're arguing against

Firstly, we live in a diverse society in terms of religious beliefs: the 2011 census found that 59% of people in the UK identify as Christian, and 25% identify as no religion. We also have plenty of Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs and other religions, and in the spirit of living in harmony with others around us, it's useful to know some things about different religions. For example, it's useful to know that Muslims may fast during Ramadan (and when Ramadan falls in a given year), in order to be sensitive towards anyone who is fasting. Similarly, it's useful to know that Christians might give up something for Lent, or they might want a day of peace or prayer on Easter Sunday. Although I must note that it seems to me that far more than a quarter of UK residents (the atheist population) 'celebrate' Easter by purchasing chocolate eggs, and so perhaps some people who identify as Christian are less concerned about Jesus rising from the grave than they are about chocolate eggs rising in price. Nonetheless, it seems useful to know a thing or two about the religions of those around us, particularly in the case of people who actually practise their religion. Knowing about others' religions enables us to be respectful even if we disagree with their beliefs.

Secondly, in terms of general knowledge, it is useful to know different facts about religion in the same way that it's useful to know geography, history, literature, languages, artworks and so on. If one goes around thinking that Muslims routinely wear turbans or that Hindu women wear the hijab, one is ill-informed. Aside from being little use in a pub quiz, this kind of ignorance can fuel hatred and bigotry. I seem to recall that after the World Trade Center was attacked in 2001 by Muslim terrorists, there was a spate of violence against Sikhs! So we owe it to ourselves, if not others, to have some knowledge of different religious views.

Thirdly, as John Stuart Mill wrote in On Liberty, "He who knows only his side of the argument knows little of that" (ref: Chapter II, paragraph beginning 'If the intellect and judgment of mankind...') Mill is one of my all-time favourite philosophical authors, and I think he's spot on with many of the things he writes, and his stance on knowing both sides of argument is no exception. If we atheists wish to enter into a debate with theists, it helps to know what their beliefs actually are. In knowing them, we can strengthen our own arguments and reaffirm our own (lack of) faith. To be misinformed about a theory is not a reason to disbelieve it: we should find out about the theories that exist (whatever they are) and then we can make an informed choice about what we believe, and construct arguments to show why our beliefs are more plausible than others'.

Source: The Atheist Dose

A fourth possible usefulness of hearing Bible stories is one which Christians might suggest, but that I do not subscribe to: "it's useful for non-Christian children to hear Bible stories so that they can hear 'the truth' and then change their views accordingly and convert to Christianity". I think it's definitely useful for children (and adults) to hear a range of viewpoints, but whenever one shuns fact in favour of fantasy, nothing worthwhile has been achieved. But then, I suppose a Christian might make the same argument about someone abandoning Christianity in favour of atheism!

Conclusion 

So should my son have to sit through Bible stories? Well, I think that when told sparingly and prefixed by "Some people believe that..." then there is a definite benefit for him to hear such stories. When the Bible stories are presented as if they were facts, I can understand why he finds it irritating, as I myself did at the same age. No child should be told that unverified (and unverifiable) theories are facts.

In case you're wondering, I spoke to my son's teacher this morning and asked whether they'd be learning more about Jesus today and she said no, yesterday's story was just a one-off - so my son was happy to attend school today! I'm just glad I didn't send him to the Catholic school not far from our house!

"Alexa, why are you so stupid?" - Is our rude treatment of AI devices a problem?

A few weeks ago, my mum got Alexa (an Alexa? the Alexa?) in her house, and she and my step-dad were keen to show off how it (she?) can play any song, tell us the weather forecast, and other things. Of course, my son and I were straight in there, asking for songs, asking it questions, and making requests. (I've had "OK Google" on my phone for years so it's hard to say why Alexa had such novelty appeal, but it did.)

However, it didn't take long for our conversations with Alexa to deteriorate into exchanges such as this:
- Alexa, how is cheese made from milk?

The Alexa family - image from Amazon

- I'm sorry, I don't have that information.
- Yeah well you're pretty stupid then aren't you?

- Alexa, what is the temperature today?
- The Tempest is a play by William Shakespeare...
- Alexa, that wasn't what I asked you!
- I'm sorry, I don't have that information.
- Alexa, why are you so
incompetent?
- I'm sorry, I don't have that information.

I began to wonder whether it was problematic for us to speak to Alexa (Google, Siri, Cortana) in such a rude way. It began with us adults (probably me more so than my parents) and soon my son was saying "Alexa is really stupid isn't she?" and I began to feel uncomfortable. Perhaps this was just an example of bad parenting on my part? But I've observed a similar phenomenon in too many other people for me to think that I am an anomaly ( although, the behaviour's being commonplace doesn't rule out its being an example of bad parenting, I understand.) In fact I recall the first time I heard of Siri, my friend demonstrated it to me, and was showing me how Siri responded when you swore at and insulted her/it.

Now, Alexa, Siri etc. have no feelings to be hurt when we speak to them rudely, so no harm done... I mean, we've all got angry with our computers or phones when they don't do what we want, haven't we? And it doesn't matter... or does it? Just how easily we slip into rude or verbally abusive behaviour towards AI devices is (now) a concern of mine. The tech will progress, and at some point, AI devices will have feelings, opinions, personalities... and probably some day, rights. As things stand, there's no problem with being rude towards Alexa, but the next generation of AI devices - Alexa's children, if you will - will be more sophisticated, and so perhaps we (and by that I am pointing the finger squarely at myself) need to cultivate in our children a little more respect and good manners towards smart devices. I will try to catch myself whenever I want to get annoyed with my phone or computer, and consider how I would want my son to treat Alexa's 'daughter': with civility as a bare minimum.

But if electronic devices - even voice-activated ones - don't have any feelings, then it seems harmless for us to be verbally abusive towards them, but does this change when those devices give the appearance of feelings? I wonder how we'd feel if being verbally abusive towards Alexa caused her to respond with something like "I don't like it when you are rude to me; please be more well-mannered" or a simple "You've hurt my feelings" or perhaps something more aggressive such as "Hey! Don't speak to me like that! How would you like it if I called you a $@£$%?!" I think we would perhaps feel more guilty - although I imagine that some people would complain that Amazon is trying to control the way we talk. After all, some people pepper their speech with expletives as a matter of course; is it really the job of Alexa to police people's use of language? Probably not, but since it's not usually acceptable to use swearwords or be verbally abusive to others in most situations, then maybe Alexa should behave in a similar sort of way to how a normal human would behave if treated rudely?

Amazon have introduced a feature whereby Alexa praises children for saying please and thank you. I know from my own experience how hard it is to get children to say please and thank you (I must have reminded my son around 10 times a day, every day for the past two years, and still he needs reminding. He's not abnormal either: I hear many parents reminding children - even aged 10 or over - to say please and thank you!) So if Alexa can help children to be more well mannered, then all the better. But it wouldn't seem right if Alexa reminds children to say please and thank you, but not adults - after all, we should have learnt our manners by now.

Of all the voice-activated AI tech that I've had contact with (my Garmin satnav, "OK Google", Siri, Cortana, "Hi Galaxy" on my Samsung phone, and now my Mum's Alexa) none of them have required manners or prompted me to say please, so now I am accustomed to speaking to them solely with commands like "Navigate to 123 High Street", or "Show me images of great white sharks" without any manners. In fact, if you say please to my satnav, it thinks that is part of the address, and it starts searching for 'High Street Please'!

"OK Google, show me a picture of an iguana"

"OK Google, please could you show me a picture of an iguana?"

The more I think about it, the more I think that AI devices which are voice-activated ought to expect the same level of manners from users as we humans expect from one another. In our everyday lives, we might be more inclined to help out a person who is well-mannered as opposed to one who barks orders at us, and I wouldn't be surprised - I think I would be pleased, actually - if the AI devices of the future provide a better service to those who are well-mannered. Imagine: saying "OK Google, show me pictures of iguanas" retrieves poor-quality, small, grainy, pixellated photos with watermarks all over them, whereas saying "OK Google, please could you show me pictures of iguanas?" retrieves high-quality beautiful photographs. This, I think, would be progress, and it would certainly prepare us for a world where we interact with intelligent - and perhaps even emotional - artificial devices on a daily basis. I for one am going to try to change my ways (except with my satnav!)

The funny side of disablism?

A few days ago, a comedian with cerebral palsy and who cannot speak won Britain’s Got Talent 2018 – and the runner-up was a comedian with Asperger’s syndrome. (I know my last blog post was about BGT too, but would you believe I haven’t actually watched it - except the two men I'm talking about here.) Some people are talking as if this is a watershed moment for disability, but I'm wondering whether we’ll look back in years to come and feel uncomfortable about what has happened. Should we be laughing about disablism and disability?

Disabled people can get a pretty raw deal at times; I am able-bodied (now), but I spent most of my twenties in a wheelchair and in pain, and so I have first-hand experience of some of the obstacles (both literal and figurative) that disabled people must overcome. There is some debate surrounding whether autism is a disability (cerebral palsy is recognised as one) but for now I’ll sidestep this debate and just talk about both men as being disabled.

Disablism exists, and disabled people are largely excluded from TV and positions of power. So on the one hand, it’s great to see that disabled people are getting some air-time on a prime-time talent show. Decades ago, this simply would not have happened, so that’s progress. It’s also progress that the voters – who decided the winners of the show – have voted a disabled comedian to win the show.

What made bothered me slightly was that the winner – the Lost Voice Guy – made so many jokes about his disability. (This was true of the runner-up Robert White to a far lesser extent, although he did make some jokes about his social awkwardness.) Winner Lee Ridley’s cerebral palsy means that he is unable to speak, and he used a voice synthesiser to tell his jokes on stage. Many of his jokes centred around his disability: his voice synthesiser sounds like the “Cashier number four please” voice you hear at the post office; someone on the bus wanted him to give up his seat as another person was more disabled; people asking him “what’s wrong with you?”; his mum and dad still wondering whether his first word will be ‘mummy’ or ‘daddy’… the list goes on. Even his T-shirts sported captions such as “I’m in it for the parking”. His jokes were funny, and I found myself laughing along with the audience, thinking the guy was a really good comedian, but his routine should give us pause for thought.

If disabled people were treated fairly and disablism didn't exist, then this sort of routine wouldn’t be possible. Many of his jokes revolved around the ways in which he’s been treated negatively, discriminated against, and the obstacles he faces, and people might suggest that it’s good that he can ‘see the funny side’ of his disability and disablism by sending himself up, but experiencing disablism is not something anyone should have to see the funny side of.

A few decades back, when people of colour were first ‘allowed’ to perform comedy for a mainly white audience in the UK and US, it wasn’t uncommon for their routine to include jokes about their race, or racism they’ve faced. People laughed about it then, but I think we’d feel pretty uncomfortable now listening to a black person joke about their fear of getting shot by a police officer and suchlike. We feel uncomfortable because we think that racism shouldn’t happen, and laughing about it trivialises it. So the fact that the Lost Voice Guy can have people in stitches with jokes about his disability and disablism might not be the watershed moment that it seems to be. Nonetheless, it might be a step forward. For a long time, people of colour weren’t part of the comedy scene in the UK and US, and now they are – and so that transitionary period where they made jokes about their skin colour may have been a first awkward step forward towards acceptance. But a black comedian who is popular because he makes jokes about a range of topics (or a particular topic, such as politics or sport) would surely be preferable to a black comedian who makes jokes about the racism he faces on a daily basis. (Note that I’m not saying that people should keep quiet about the racism they experience; I’m saying that the racism shouldn’t happen in the first place.) Similarly, disabled comedians who continually joke about their disability and disablism are, for me at least, an awkward first step towards a time when we can hopefully accept a disabled comedian not because he makes funny jokes about disability, but because he makes funny jokes about all kinds of things.

Some might say that I am being overly defensive, and that I should lighten up – after all, the Lost Voice Guy (presumably!) wrote the self-deprecating jokes himself, and the audience liked the routine, so why am I putting a downer on it all? The reason why is that disablism is a daily reality for many people, and being on the receiving end is a humiliating and soul-destroying experience. I am in no way a criticising the Lost Voice Guy (or Robert White), because comedy can be a way of regaining control over a situation and dealing with negative treatment, not to mention a way of drawing people’s attention to the fact that (a) disablism exists, and (b) disabled people are in many ways that really matter, just normal people. I think that disabled comedians should be allowed to joke about their experiences if they want to, but what we should take away from it all is a harsher message: jokes about disablism are only possible because disablism exists. We should work towards ending disablism, not just laughing about it.

Bigots Got Talent: why we should separate issues of talent from issues of bigotry and criminality

When news about Kevin Spacey's alleged sexual misconduct emerged, it wasn't long before the public were tweeting that people should boycott all his movies, as well as the upcoming House of Cards series which was due to screen on Netflix. And recently a news story has emerged regarding a Britain's Got Talent (BGT) contestant who has liked and commented on homophobic, anti-Semitic and racist YouTube videos. Below I argue that we should separate art from the artist; that we can with a clear conscience enjoy the talents of Kevin Spacey and Jenny Darren (the BGT contestant) whilst condemning their (alleged) actions in their private lives. The issues in the two cases are slightly different, so I'll deal with them separately: BGT first, and Kevin Spacey second.

So, a contestant on BGT liked some YouTube videos which were by all accounts, expounding bigoted opinions. The show has apparently 'reprimanded' her, but I'm not fully clear on why they have reprimanded her. Racism, anti-semitism, and homophobia are undoubtedly unsavoury, (prima facie) wrong, and in some cases illegal, but what concern is it of the BGT team if a contestant is a bigot in her life offstage? The show is Britain's Got Talent, not Britain's Got Politically Correct Viewpoints. The woman's talent (or lack thereof - I haven't seen her perform) are entirely independent from her ability to sing, dance or otherwise perform. It's not clear to me why BGT should only permit people with benign and politically correct viewpoints perform. If she were a drug addict, a football hooligan or a dog-beater would they reprimand her for that too? These things are horrible, problematic and even wrong ways of life, but they would not detract from her talent.

If someone's act on stage involved dressing up as a member of the Ku Klux Klan, having a bigoted stand up routine, or singing racist songs, then I would thoroughly understand and endorse the programme stepping in to prevent such broadcasts, but that is substantively different from a singer who performs a crowdpleasing song, but has offensive views while offstage. Even if a performer was a crowdpleaser onstage but was abusing other contestants while offstage, I'd understand the bosses telling the performer that their behaviour is inappropriate. But when the performer's views do not form part of their act, nor their behaviour while at the shows, it's not BGT's place to police contestant's viewpoints. 

The winner of BGT will be chosen by the public, and the public may well take someone's personal views into account when voting, but then it has ceased to be a talent show, and instead become a popularity contest. To be honest, it sails pretty close to that line most of the time anyway, with talentless but likeable people faring pretty well in the public vote. However, this doesn't mean that winners should be chosen in such a way. If BGT really is a holistic assessment of contestants' opinions and lifestyles, then the show should just come out and say it - and perhaps rebrand itself as Britain's Got Nice People With Talent. It's not as catchy, admittedly, but it would be more accurate.

In sport, the person who runs the fastest, throws the farthest or scores the most points is the winner. If that person happens to be something of a bigot or an otherwise unpleasant person in their private life, then that does not feature in whether or not they are awarded the gold medal. It seems evident to me that, with the few exceptions I mention (the opinions are on-screen or directed at a fellow colleague), this is the way talent shows and entertainment should be. In sport, if someone is an excellent sports(wo)man but a bit of a $@#! in their private life, then so be it; that doesn't - and shouldn't - prevent them from being recognised as an excellent footballer, runner, tennis player etc. Acts which occur within the sport - a footballer shouting racist abuse at a member of the opposing team, for example - isn't and shouldn't be tolerated, but what happens off-pitch should stay off-pitch.

The Kevin Spacey (Weinstein, Dustin Hoffman, Bill Cosby, or any of a seemingly endless list of male celebs of a certain age who've been accused of sexual misconduct) situation is a little different, since it involves not just offensive views, but (allegedly) criminal behaviour. If one were to be casting for a new film, and looking for an actor to play a significant role, one would need to take into account the safety of the other members of the cast and crew. Bringing a convicted sexual assaulter or rapist into the cast could spell trouble (and no, I don't think someone merely being accused of something by a single person is reason enough to exclude him, because not all accusations are true.) Kevin Spacey has not denied the accusations, and he has offered an apology of sorts - so  this might be considered an admission of guilt. Given this, it's reasonable for any future casting directors to avoid casting him, for the safety of others. But retrospectively boycotting all films or series with Kevin Spacey in them is just ludicrous. People who've decided not to watch House of Cards, Seven, The Usual Suspects etc in virtue of the fact that it has KS in it are misguided. I understand the motivation is that they don't want KS to receive any money for his work (but since films usually pay actors a set fee rather than continual royalties, this boycott doesn't deprive KS of any money at all.) If anyone is deprived of money, it will be the directors, producers etc who in all likelihood are decent hardworking people who had no idea hat KS was a wrong'un. Depriving them of profit because they lacked the clairvoyance to know who was a sexual predator and who wasn't, (in the absence of any allegations,) is absurd and pointless. Kevin Spacey has been in some fantastic movies, and they don't become any less fantastic in virtue of knowing that he's (allegedly) a $&@!# in his private life. 

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a post where I argued that we should stop criticising Donald Trump for his tiny hands or silly hair, because these features are not relevant to his ability to be a good President. And here again I make a similar point; knowing that Kevin Spacey has been accused of criminal behaviour, or that a contestant on BGT has liked some anti-Semitic YouTube videos is entirely independent of their ability to be a talented performer. It strikes me as decidedly odd that when the bigoted opinions and behaviour of someone really matter for his job (because he makes laws, for example) we focus on his hairdo, but when the bigoted opinions of someone don't matter for their job, (because they're a singer or actor, for example) we're all about judging the off-screen behaviour as if it's central to their job. In the arts, art can be separated from artist, and (allegedly) bad people can be brilliantly talented. We can and we should admire the talent while condemning the (alleged) bigoted or criminal behaviour.