The Complexities of Racism in AI Art

By: Imaad Huda

AI generative art is a recent advance in the field of consumer and social artificial intelligence. Anybody can write a few words into a program, and, within seconds, the AI will generate an image that roughly depicts that prompt. AI generative art can incorporate a number of artistic styles to develop digital art without somebody lifting a pen. While many users are simply fascinated with art being created by their computers, few are aware of how the AI generates its images and the implications of what it produces. Now that AI art programs have made their way into consumer hands, users have noticed stereotypical and racialized depictions in their auto-generated images. Entering prompts that incorporate types of employment, education, and history often produce images that incorporate racial bias. As AI becomes more mainstream, racist and sexist depictions by AI will only serve to entrench long standing stereotypes, and the lack of a legal standard will only make the matter worse. 

Quantifying the Racism 

Leonard Nicoletti and Dina Bass for Bloomberg note that the generative images take the “human” biases to the extreme. In a generative span of 5,000 images with the Stable Diffusion AI, depictions of prompts for people with higher-paying jobs were compared to people with lower-paying jobs. The result was an overrepresentation of people of color for lower-paying jobs. Prompts including “fast-food workers” yielded an image with a darker skinned person seventy percent of the time, even though Bloomberg noted that seventy percent of fast-food workers are white. Meanwhile, prompts for higher-paying jobs, such as “CEO and lawyer” generated images of people with lighter skin at a rate of over eighty percent, potentially proportional to the eighty percent of people that hold those jobs. When it came to occupations, Stable Diffusion showed the most bias when depicting occupations for women, “amplify[ing] both gender and racial stereotypes.” Among all generations for high-paying jobs, only one image, that of a judge, generated of a person of color. Commercial facial-recognition software, a tool specifically designed to identify the genders of people, had “the lowest accuracy on darker skinned people,” presenting a problem when these softwares are “implemented for healthcare and law enforcement.” 

Stable Diffusion was also biased when comparing criminality. For depictions of “inmate,” the AI generated a person of color eighty percent of the time when only half of the inmates in the U.S. are people of color. Bloomberg notes that the rates for generating criminals could be skewed by the racial bias by the U.S. “policing and sentencing” mechanisms. 

The Legality

Is racism in AI legal? The answer is complicated for a number of reasons. The law surrounding AI generative imaging is new. In 2021, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) declared the use of discriminatory algorithms to make automated decisions illegal, citing opportunities for “jobs, housing, education, or banking.” New York City has also enacted its own Local Law 144, which requires that AI tools undergo a “bias audit” before aiding in employment decisions.” The National Law Review states that a bias audit includes a calculation of the “rate at which individuals in a category are either selected to move on or assigned a classification” by the hiring tool. The law also states that audits “include historical data in their analysis,” and the results of the audit “must be made publically available.” 

The advancement of anti-racism laws regulating AI tools represents progress. However, how these laws pertain to AI art still has yet to be seen. Laws concerning AI generated art are currently focused on theft, as AI art often copies the originalism and stylistic choices of human artists. The racial depictions of AI art have not been touched on legally but could perpetuate stereotypes when used in an educational context, which the FTC prohibits under its 2021 declaration. Judges and lawmakers may not see AI art’s contribution to systemic racism as a legal issue that could stand in the courtroom just yet. 

What’s The Solution?

The bias in generated art results from its algorithm, which, depending on the user’s prompt, pulls together images that match a description and style to develop into a new image. From multiple prompts from many different users and the data available on the internet, the algorithm continuously produces these images. Almost a decade ago, Google postponed its consumer AI search program because images of black people were being filtered into searches for “gorillas” and “monkeys.” The reason for this, according to former Google employees, was Google not training its AI with enough images of black people. The problem in this case, again, could be a lack of representation, from too few AI algorithm employees of color to inadequate representation in the data sets being used to generate images. However, a simple fix to increase representation is not so easy. AI computing is built based on models that already exist; a new model will be based off of an older model, and the biases present in the older algorithm may stand. As issues with machines get more complicated, so do the solutions. Derogatory depictions should not be allowed to stand in the absence of a legal standard, and lawmakers should take the necessary measures to end AI discrimination before it becomes a true social problem.

Proposed Fee Increase for Artist Visas Threatens International Cultural Exchange

By: Smitha Gundavajhala

On Thursday, February 12, the Seattle Symphony opened its doors for a three-day run of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6. For weeks, the symphony had advertised that soloist Carla Caramujo would take the stage for the performance. However, as opening day approached, the Symphony had a change of plans. The web page for the concert displayed a message: “Due to delays with artist visa processing, soloist Carla Caramujo is regretfully unable to perform on this program.”

Delays in artist visa processing have prevented international artists from making their scheduled performances in the United States, and deprived American audiences of valuable opportunities for cultural exposure and exchange. As Tom Davis, a former Chairman of the Committee on Government Reform, said in an April 4, 2006 hearing on the impact of visa processing delays, “the American cultural scene will continue to remain vibrant only as long as foreign artists are able to bring their work to American stages and galleries.” This blog will explore a history of delays in processing the artist visa, a proposed rule to increase the efficiency of visa processing, and the implications of that rule for cultural exchange.

Delayed Artist Visas: A History

The term “artist visa” actually refers to two kinds of visas: O visas and P visas. O visas are for artists who are coming to the United States for longer terms, and P visas are for artists who are staying only temporarily to perform. Petitions for O and P visas are reviewed by the United States Citizenship & Immigration Service (USCIS). Under the Immigration and Nationality Act (INA), the statute that created USCIS, O and P visa petitions must be processed within 14 days (8 U.S.C. §1184 (c)(6)(D)).

USCIS has struggled to meet this processing time for decades. Art advocacy groups have traced the delay to 2001, when USCIS implemented a Premium Processing Service (PPS) that would guarantee visa processing in 15 calendar days for artists who paid a $1,225 fee. Similar to the creation of express lanes on highways, the PPS option created “traffic” for applicants who could not pay the fee: the processing time for applicants was an average of 45 days before PPS, and extended up to 6 months after PPS. In 2010, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) adopted a rule that committed USCIS to meeting the day processing time required by the INA.

In 2019, Congress passed the USCIS Stabilization Act (HR 8089), a piece of emergency legislation intended to address processing delays, in part by increasing the PPS fee. The USCIS Stabilization Act allowed DHS to suspend the use of premium processing if circumstances prevented the timely processing of petitions. However, despite consistent delays in processing, DHS has not suspended premium processing. Today, the PPS fee costs $2500, and artist visa delays continue to accumulate.

When President Biden took office in 2021, the Biden administration faced the task of reducing backlogs in visa processing times that had been deepened by Trump-era policies. That is where DHS’s proposed rule comes in.

The Proposed DHS Rule

The Department of Homeland Security is proposing a rule that would increase the cost of applying for an O or P visa by more than 250 percent. O visa fees would increase from $460 to $1,655, and P visa fees would increase from $460 to $1,615. DHS justifies the fee increase by citing high demand and insufficient staff in USCIS. The fee increase, along with an increase in the required processing time from 15 calendar days to 15 business days, is intended to provide USCIS with more funding, staff, and time to catch up with the backlog in processing O and P visa petitions. 

DHS’s authority to propose and promulgate this rule comes from the Immigration and Nationality Act — in particular, from the section on the “disposition of moneys” (8 U.S.C. §1356). Administrative agencies like DHS have the power to propose and enact rules to carry out the objectives stated in statutes that the agencies administer, like the INA. If the rule is adopted, it adds an additional layer of requirements to the statute that must be met along with the base requirements of the statute itself. Agencies must provide the public with a Notice of Proposed Rulemaking (NPRM) and allow the public an opportunity to comment before adopting a rule.

The proposed fee increase for artist visas sits within this unassuming administrative framework. Members of the public are often unaware of the existence of NPRMs and uninformed on how to comment. In addition, even though anyone can submit a comment, many of the stakeholders impacted by this proposed rule do not live in the United States, and are unlikely to be aware of the opportunity to comment on the rule.

Implications of the Rule

After the Biden administration committed to reducing processing times, it followed through by approving a $389 million budget for the 2023 fiscal year to support that effort. It is unclear whether that added funding is actually being used to improve processing times. DHS is still passing costs down to artists, and if the rule is passed, those costs will only increase.

The current framework for O and P visa petitions is already inequitable: those without the resources to pay a $2500 PPS fee are impacted by visa processing delays, and risk losing out on opportunities to perform. Independent artists and non-profit organizations are particularly impacted by this inequity, and are likely underrepresented in international cultural exchange. However, the current processing fees are lower than the proposed fees, so despite processing delays, artists currently have greater access to petitioning than they would under the new rule.

If the rule is adopted and implemented, DHS may or may not catch up with the backlog in O and P petitions. However, the cost of applying for an artist visa will increase, and the pool of artists that are able to apply for and obtain visas will skew in favor of those wealthy enough to absorb the fee increase. One thing is certain: adopting the rule will cause the United States to lose out on a great deal of talent, and cultural exchange is likely to suffer. 

DHS is currently accepting written comments on this proposed rule until March 6, 2023. The electronic Federal Docket Management System will accept comments before midnight eastern time at the end of that day.

AI Art “In the Style of” & Contributory Liability

By: Jacob Alhadeff

Greg Rutkowski illustrates fantastical images for games such as Dungeons & Dragons and Magic the Gathering. Rutkowski’s name has been used thousands of times in generative art platforms, such as Stable Diffusion and Dall-E, flooding the internet with thousands of works in his style. For example, type in “Wizard with sword and a glowing orb of magic fire fights a fierce dragon Greg Rutkowski,” and Stable Diffusion will output something similar to Rutkowski’s actual work. Rutkowski is now reasonably concerned that his work will be drowned out by these hundreds of thousands of emulations, ultimately preventing customers from being able to find his work online. 

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Examples of images generated by Dream Studio (Stable Diffusion) in Rutkowski’s style.

These machine learning algorithms are trained using freely available information, which is largely a good thing. However, it may feel unfair that an artist’s copyrighted images are freely copied to train their potential replacement. Ultimately, nothing these algorithms or their owners are doing is copyright infringement, and there are many good reasons for this. However, in certain exceptional circumstances, like Rutkowski’s, it may seem like copyright laws insufficiently protect human creation and unreasonably prioritizes computer generation.

A primary reason why Rutkowski has no legal recourse is because an entity that trains its AI on Rutkowski’s copyrighted work is not the person generating the emulating art. Instead, thousands of end-users are collectively causing Rutkowski harm. Since distinct entities cause aggregate harm, there is no infringement. By contrast, if Stable Diffusion verbatim copied Rutkowski’s work to train their AI before generating hundreds of thousands of look-a-likes, this would likely be an unfair infringement. Understanding the importance of this separation is best seen through understanding the process of text-to-art generation and analyzing each person’s role in the process. 

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To give a brief summary of this process, billions of original human artists throughout history have created art that has been posted online. Then a group like Common Crawl scrapes those billions of images and their textual pairs from billions of web pages for public use. Later, a non-profit such as LAION creates a massive dataset that includes internet indexes and similarity scores between text and images. Subsequently, a company such as Stable Diffusion trains its text-to-art AI generator on these text-image pairs. Notably, when a text-to-art generator uses the LAION database, they are not necessarily downloading the images themselves to train their AI. Finally, when the end user goes to Dream Studio and types in the phrase “a mouse in the style of Walt Disney,” the AI generates unique images of Mickey Mouse. 

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Examples of images generated by Dream Studio (Stable Diffusion) using the phrase “a mouse in the style of Walt Disney”

These several distributed roles complicate our copyright analysis, but for now, we will limit our discussion of copyright liability to three primary entities: (1) the original artist, (2) the Text-to-Image AI Company, and (3) the end-user. 

The Text-to-Image Company likely has copied Rutkowski’s work. If the Text-to-Image company actually downloads the images from the dataset to train its AI, then there is verbatim intermediate copying of potentially billions of copyrightable images. However, this is likely fair use because the generative AI provides what the court would consider a public benefit and has transformed the purpose and character of the original art. This reasoning is demonstrated by Kelly v. Arriba, where an image search’s use of thumbnail images was determined to be transformative and fair partly because of the public benefit provided by the ability to search images and the transformed purpose for that art, searching versus viewing. Here, the purpose of the original art was to be viewed by humans, and the Text-to-Image AI Company has transformatively used the art to be “read” by machines to train an AI. The public benefit of text-to-art AI is the ability to create complex and novel art by simply typing a few words into a prompt. It is more likely that the Generative AI’s use is fair because the public does not see these downloaded images, which means that they have not directly impacted the market for the copyrighted originals. 

The individual end-user is any person that prompts the AI to generate hundreds of thousands of works “in the style of Greg Rutkowski.” However, the end-user has not copied Rutkowski’s art because copyright’s idea-expression distinction means that Rutkowski’s style is not copyrightable. The end-user simply typed 10 words into Stable Diffusion’s UI. While the images of wizards fighting dragons may seem similar to Rutkowski’s work, they may not be substantially similar enough to be deemed infringing copies. Therefore, the end-user similarly didn’t unfairly infringe on Rutkowski’s copyright.

Secondary Liability & AI Copyright

Generative AI portends dramatic social and economic change for many, and copyright will necessarily respond to these changes. Copyright could change to protect Rutkowski in different ways, but many of these potential changes would result in either a complete overhaul of copyright law or the functional elimination of generative art, neither of which is desirable. One minor alteration that could give Rutkowski, and other artists like him, slightly more protection is a creative expansion of contributory liability in copyright. One infringes contributorily by intentionally inducing or encouraging direct infringement.

Dall-E has actively encouraged end-users to generate art “in the style of” artists. So not only are these text-to-art AI companies verbatim copying artists’ works, but they are then also encouraging users to emulate the artists’ work. At present, this is not considered contributory liability and is frequently innocuous. Style is not copyrightable because ideas are not copyrightable, which is a good thing for artistic freedom and creation. So, while the work of these artists is not being directly copied by end-users when Dall-E encourages users to flood the internet with AI art in Rutkowski’s style, it feels like copyright law should offer Rutkowski slightly more protection.

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An astronaut riding a horse in the style of Andy Warhol.
A painting of a fox in the style of Claude Monet.

Contributory liability could offer this modicum of protection if, and only if, it expanded to include circumstances where the copying fairly occurred by the contributor, but not the thousands of end-users. As previously stated, the end-users are not directly infringing Rutkowski’s copyright, so under current law, Dall-E has not contributorily copied. However, there has never been a contributory copyright case such as this one, where the contributing entity themselves verbatim copied the copyrighted work, albeit fairly, but the end user did not. As such, copyright’s flexibility and policy-oriented nature could permit a unique carveout for such protection.

Analyzing the potential contributory liability of Dall-E is more complicated than it sounds, particularly because of the quintessential modern contributory liability case, MGM v. Grokster, which involved intentionally instructing users on how to file-share millions of songs. Moreover, Sony v. Universal would rightfully protect Dall-E generally as due to many similarities between the two situations. In that case, the court found Sony not liable for copyright infringement for the sale of VHS recorders which facilitated direct copying of TV programming because the technology had “commercially significant non-infringing uses.” Finally, regardless of Rutkowski’s theoretical likelihood of success, if contributory liability were expanded in this way, then it would at least stop companies such as Dall-E from advertising the fact that their generations are a great way to emulate, or copy, an artist’s work that they themselves initially copied. 

This article has been premised on the idea that the end-users aren’t copying, but what if they are? It is clear that Rutkowski’s work was not directly infringed by the wizard fighting the dragon, but what about “a mouse in the style of Walt Disney?” How about “a yellow cartoon bear with a red shirt” or “a yellow bear in the style of A. A. Milne?” How similar does an end-user’s generation need to be for Disney to sue over an end-user’s direct infringement? What if there were hundreds of thousands of unique AI-generated Mickey Mouse emulations flooding the internet, and Twitter trolls were harassing Disney instead of Rutkowski? Of course, each individual generation would require an individual infringement analysis. Maybe the “yellow cartoon bear with a red shirt” is not substantially similar to Winnie the Pooh, but the “mouse in the style of Walt Disney” could be. These determinations would impact a generative AI’s potential contributory liability in such a claim. Whatever copyright judges and lawmakers decide, the law will need to find creative solutions that carefully balance the interests of artists and technological innovation. 

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American Museums: Rightful Heirs or Pretenders to the Throne?

By: Anna Long

It is essentially undisputed that thousands of artworks and artifacts have been stolen or looted throughout history as the result of outright theft, colonial conquest, and war. Today, a number of these stolen works sit behind glass in museums, the plaques that detail their origins conveniently leaving out exactly how each piece ended up in American institutions. And while the last handful of years has seen a movement towards the repatriation of stolen artworks and artifacts, actual return of that artwork is the exception rather than the rule. First, museums are only compelled to repatriate the art if there is proof it was stolen or looted. And second, in laying claim to particular artworks and artifacts, museums reaffirm the American savior identity rooted in cultural appropriation. Prioritizing repatriation is a necessary step towards the decolonization of the art trade. Relaxing the mens rea requirement of the National Stolen Property Act of 1934 is the best tool for effecting this repatriation.

While the expectation that stolen art should be repatriated is gaining acceptance, the museum community has yet to come to a consensus on its appropriateness and efficacy. Some experts assert that the artworks and artifacts should stay wherever they are currently placed, regardless of national origin or cultural importance. This argument is usually centered on the claim that American museums can better manage and protect the art. However, the fact that the American market encourages continued looting and, correspondingly, further damage calls that claim into question. Other scholars advocate for the return of the art to its country of origin or, if possible, the original owner. This sentiment rests on the concept that cultural property belongs where it originated, especially if it was forcibly removed. This debate does not change the reality that museums are only required to repatriate the art if it is proven to be stolen or looted. Clear provenance, documenting the piece’s history, usually means the art stays where it is. Documentation of ownership going back decades should not necessarily absolve museums of responsibility now. 

Ancient Greek art and artifacts embody the implications of continued American control over cultural property and the importance of repatriation. These artifacts, spread through museums across the country, are a good way to conceptualize how a claim to cultural identity can be expressed through control of material objects. 

“For reasons rooted in everything from Hollywood marketing to Cold War politics, most Americans, regardless of their level of formal education, have a sense that democracy was invented in Athens, Aphrodite was a literal sex goddess,… and (Eric Bana’s) Hector was no match for (Brad Pitt’s) Achilles in the Trojan War.” 

Stretching from democracy, a fundamental building block of American identity, to Brad Pitt and Eric Bana, who are also arguably central to that identity, Greek myth and imagery exist in all aspects of American media. The artifacts that line our museums are the physical manifestation of that imagery.  In appropriating the physical artifacts, we have laid claim to a cultural inheritance of idyllic heroes and representative government.  We are leaning on manipulations of history to do so; manipulations intended to valorize the United States as the exemplar and appropriate inheritor of past greatness.

This interest in control of these artifacts and claim of ownership of a heroic narrative legacy then has greater implications of colonialism. In asserting a legacy from the Ancient Greeks, America, and other centers of the Western world,  claim descendance from a culture that, in turn, claims a descent from the gods and god-like heroes of its own past. The result is an implication that the nations and cultures that originated this grand legacy, no longer have what it takes to expand and continue it.  This opens the door to oppression under the guise of rescue. Even something as simple as asserting that non-Western museums are incapable of maintaining the art reemphasizes the notion that American greatness has supplanted that of the nations and cultures that preceded it.

This appropriation of the art blends uncomfortably with the savior narrative it reinforces.  Wealthy white Americans take it upon themselves to manage the art they have deemed worthy, removed from the people they have deemed unworthy. Unfortunately, it is here that race and privilege are unavoidably thrown into the mix. Although applicable to art and artifacts across the world, the Ancient Greek pieces provide a clear example: it is only in contrast to Western ideals that we considered modern Greeks unworthy inheritors of their own history. Echoing uncomfortably with the fact that most modern audiences do not know that the statues and temples were painted, the modern aesthetic value placed upon the gleaming white is imposed by the colonial powers, preventing understanding of the values of the originating culture.  

Understanding just how deeply ingrained these colonial concepts are in our national identity, it can seem like repatriation will make little difference. But it is a step in the right direction and the National Stolen Property Act of 1934 (NSPA) is a way to get started. The NSPA, often used in conjunction with foreign patrimony laws restricting ownership and transport of cultural property, penalizes the possession, transport, and sale of items that have crossed a state or U.S. border after having been stolen, converted, or taken

Although the statute seems fairly straightforward in its application, it was the 1986 amendment and the Second Circuit’s United States v. Schultz decision that gave the NSPA real teeth. Implemented in 1934, it wasn’t until 1986 that the amendment added possession to the list of criminal behaviors.  Prior to 1986, museums used the statute of limitations as a defense, with decades if not centuries passing between the act of theft and active museum control. As possession is an on-going action, the amendment erased this defense and opened the door for actual enforcement.

United States v. Schultz then expanded the reach of the statute. In Schultz, the Second Circuit held that “just as the property need not be stolen in the United States to bring the NSPA into play, the fact that the rightful owner of the stolen property is foreign has no impact on a prosecution under the NSPA.” Allowing foreign nationals, and even governments, as victims under the act expanded the opportunities for enforcement. Together the 1986 amendment and Schultz brought the NSPA to the forefront of antiquities litigation.

But it is a removal or relaxation of the mens rea requirement that would make the NSPA the most effective tool for repatriation and decolonization of the art trade. The NSPA currently requires a defendant’s knowing violation, and with antiquities long since removed from their context, it is difficult to prove knowledge that the artifacts were stolen. Removing, or at least relaxing, the scienter requirement lowers the burden of proof needed to hold museums liable for possession of stolen property. This is simultaneously a deterrent for the continued acquisition of stolen goods and a justification for the repatriation of artifacts currently within museum collections. And as further enforcement will only limit the number of stolen artifacts entering the US, relaxing the mens rea requirement will do little harm to any legitimate antiquities trade, if there is one.

An Artistic Expression of Critical Race Theory

By: Stephanie Turcios

A picture is truly worth a thousand words. Many of us have seen Jonathan Harris’ painting entitled Critical Race Theory (see the artwork here on Mr. Harris’ website) while scrolling on social media this year. The image is sending shock waves through the art world and is impressing the importance of Black history upon the global consciousness. While it often takes legal scholars pages of rhetoric to explain, Harris has captured the significance of Critical Race Theory (CRT) in a single painting. The image depicts a blond person painting over prominent Black American leaders – Martin Luther King Jr., Harriet Tubman, and Malcolm X with white paint. 

Salient to Black History Month, Harris’ work depicts the danger of whitewashing history. Harris, like many black people in the U.S., assumed that Harriet Tubman was a well-known historical figure. However, during one of his shows at the Irwin House Gallery, a white woman noted that the painting was “a powerful piece” but asked why Harris chose to include Aunt Jemima with Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr. It was a serious question and an eye-opener to Harris. He questioned that if this woman doesn’t know who Harriet Tubman is, does she really understand the history of slavery and oppression that Harriet Tubman fought against. 

Further, when asked why he painted Critical Race Theory, Harris told Artnet News that “Black people [are] questioning if our history [is] in jeopardy …[w]e only know what we are taught. My mind went to, ‘how far can this actually go?” His inquiry is in response to the recent backlash against CRT as an academic discipline. Since January 2021, 37 states, including Washington, have proposed legislation to restrict or outright ban teaching CRT in public schools. Harris further opined that “[i]f we don’t push back as these bills are getting passed, this painting could be the future.” To many black people, erasing our history threatens the understanding of our experiences in this country. Our history explains the issues of today and is critical to undoing the harm that persists. 

But what is critical race theory? 

Earlier this year, the American Bar Association published an article by Janel George, a professor at Georgetown University Law Center, explaining CRT. CRT emerged as a subdiscipline of Critical Legal Studies (CLS) in the 1970s. CLS theorists departed from the traditional understanding that the law was a neutral force devoid of political or social considerations and instead posited that law was neither objective nor apolitical. Likewise, CRT theorists agree that the law is neither objective nor politically or socially neutral and that our legal system is instrumental in furthering racial inequality. 

Founding theorists such as Derrick Bell, Kimberlé Crenshaw, Cheryl Harris, and many others ultimately reject the theory of color-blindness, the idea that racism stems from “a few bad apples,” and instead raise structural questions as to why racism persists despite decades of reform efforts. Professor Crenshaw notes that CRT is not a noun but a verb because it is an evolving theory that recognizes that race is a socially constructed concept that is structurally and systematically embedded in many of our institutions, including our legal system. CRT argues that systemic racism perpetuates racial inequality, evidenced by the lived experiences of people of color and other marginalized identities. 

Conversely, opponents of CRT characterize the discipline as divisive. Christopher F. Rufo, an activist against CRT, argues that the discipline is nothing more than a reframing of identity-based Marxism that spreads anti-American ideology. Rufo, and opponents like him, fear that CRT will destabilize our institutions, which they see as “neutral, technocratic, and oriented towards broadly-held perceptions of the public good.” But is this a fair characterization of the theory? Is CRT teaching children to hate their country, or is it challenging us to think about the institutions that have perpetuated harm to people for centuries? 

Why CRT matters. 

The discipline of CRT does not share in the notion that destabilizing the law will stop racial injustice. As Professor George notes, CRT recognizes that although the legal system has historically been used to deepen racial inequality, it also has significant potential to help secure racial equality. We must shift our focus from reform of our institutions to examining the root causes of racial disparity and dismantling those causes through structural change.  

In the New York Times, Mari Matsuda, a CRT founder and law professor at the University of Hawaii, explains the significance of the theory as follows: “I see it like global warming…[w]e have a serious problem that requires big, structural changes; otherwise, we are dooming future generations to catastrophe. Our inability to think structurally, with a sense of mutual care, is dooming us — whether the problem is racism, or climate disaster, or world peace.”

The beauty of art. 

We live in a time where people are quick to speak and slow to listen, where nuances in arguments are lost, and the “all or nothing” mentality prevails. But the beauty of art is that in order to appreciate it, you must sit and reflect on it. You must pause, take a moment, and ask yourself: is Harris’ depiction of our future what we really want?