# data[].attributes.headline
Are scientists morally responsible for how their discoveries are used?

# data[].attributes.subject
Are scientists morally responsible for how their discoveries are used?

# data[].attributes.body
In the article, it talks about Einstein and his discovery of the E=mc^2 equation. This equation was later used to make the atomic bomb that killed many people. The debate is whether Einstein should be held responsible for the damages and losses that his discovery caused. In my opinion, Einstein should not be held responsible for the destruction his discovery caused. I feel that he never meant for what he made to be used for bad, but other people turned it into something bad. If people were to not invent something because something bad might come out of it, then they're limiting the good and successful things that could happen as well. So, if scientist were always scared for what bad their discoveries could bring, then we wouldn't have any new discoveries in the world because there is always a way to use something in a bad way.

# data[].attributes.headline
Are scientists morally responsible for how their discoveries are used?

# data[].attributes.subject
Are scientists morally responsible for how their discoveries are used?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
E=mc2: Einstein's equation that gave birth to the atom bomb

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Alok Jha: Albert Einstein's famous equation E=mc2 for the first time connected the mass of an object with its energy and heralded a new world of physics

# data[].attributes.headline
To what extent should the arts have a moral function?

# data[].attributes.subject
To what extent should the arts have a moral function?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
On my kitchen wall, there hangs a cartoon by the brilliant illustrator Tom Gauld. I bought it from him after I saw it in the Guardian, where it appeared on a letters page in which readers debated the impact of revelatory biography on art. Yes, indeed. It's possibly rather middle class, this cartoon, and perhaps you're already thinking: my God, you couldn't parody this woman if you tried. But I am going to tell you about it anyway.

It has eight frames. The first contains its title, which is: "Eric Gill's Busy Day". The second, captioned "Typography", shows Eric Gill, the artist, messing about with fonts. The fourth, "Sculpting", shows him bashing away with a hammer. The sixth, "Tea Break", has him with a cup of darjeeling in his hand. And in the seventh, "Drawing", he is involved with a pencil.

But what, I hear you ask, of frames three, six and eight? In fact, they're just white squares: "Censored," they say. In these spaces, you must imagine what our hero is up to - though it's probably best not to, given that Gill had an incestuous relationship with his sister, abused his two elder daughters and experimented sexually with his dog.

Last Friday morning, I stood in front of this cartoon, a cup of tea in my hand, and I thought yet again about the fraught line between a man's life and his work. Moments before, I'd read that the Tate had removed from its online collection 34 prints by Graham Ovenden, the artist who was last week found guilty at Truro crown court of six charges of indecency with a child and one count of indecent assault. And while I didn't disapprove of this decision one little bit (the gallery, quite properly, is seeking information about whether any of these images of children portray Ovenden's victims), I could feel an old anxiety creeping over me.

Where, I wonder, will this investigation end? According to what I read, the Tate is also considering the "wider ethics" of showing work by Ovenden, and until this review is complete, these 34 prints "will not be available to view by appointment". Wider ethics. What does this mean, exactly? It sounds a touch North Korean. Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that the images in question do not portray Ovenden's victims. What then? Will the Tate return them to the public view? Surely it must, for if it is unethical to show work by a paedophile, what are they going to do about all the other artists who had dubious sex lives? Unless, of course, this rule only applies to perverts who are living.

It's baffling to me, the belief that art must be "ethical", as if it were so much fair trade chocolate. It's so much more complicated than that. The laughable idea that it can pass or fail some kind of tick-box test! What was art in March must surely be art in April. You can't un-art art, though Hitler had a go, when he decided that what was modern was also degenerate and set about destroying it and, far worse, those who made it.

There are those who will say that Ovenden's images of children are now revealed to be porn rather than art, but that argument crumbles to dust in this case, since the subjects of many of the Tate's images aren't even naked. Just to be clear, though - even if the children were naked, I wouldn't feel any differently. The qualities that won them a place in the Tate's collection can't be extinguished - rubbed out, like chalk on a board - by the perversions of the man who created them. If those qualities now make you feel uncomfortable as you look on, well, that is a part of their power. Live with it.

Not to play the art critic, either - even if I thought Ovenden was talentless, I would still be writing this - but it seems to me that much of his work captures something about childhood that many adults are reluctant to acknowledge: its loneliness, its isolation, the feeling that one will never make it out and into freedom. It may well be that he had his reasons for exaggerating these aspects of it in his work but that doesn't make such emotions ersatz.

We have to give it up, this weird inability of ours to separate art and life. It makes fools of us. People were after Ted Hughes for years - the old misogynist, the monster, the wife killer - and then, in 1998, he published Birthday Letters and they had to eat their words. All that love and pain and regret. "Drawing calmed you," he wrote, and suddenly they had it from his side.

But it also robs us, if we give in to it, of so much that is good and beautiful. When Andrew Motion published his biography of Philip Larkin in 1993, and we learned of his casual racism, and the way he behaved with women, they all lined up to have a go at him: Lisa Jardine, Tom Paulin, Alan Bennett. Jardine said, somewhat gleefully: "We don't tend to teach Larkin much now in my department of English. The Little Englandism he celebrates sits uneasily within our revised curriculum." I remember feeling enraged by this. For one thing, Larkin doesn't celebrate anything terribly much - he's not that kind of poet (and when he does, it's mostly love). For another, I could not get over the idea that someone would deny their students the pleasure of discovering Larkin's poetry - so clear, so plangent, so intensely beautiful - because they didn't agree with his politics. It felt criminal to me.

Did Albert Goldman's sordid revelations about Elvis and John Lennon honestly change how we feel about their music? No, and nor should they have done. Did you go off Brighton Rock once you found out, courtesy of his biographer Michael Sheldon, that Graham Greene wanted to commit adultery "behind every high altar in Italy"? If you did, it's your loss, not his.

I could go on and on. With every new biography, there comes fresh outrage. But let's return to where we started: what about Eric Gill? The Tate has a piece by Gill called , made for Edward Perry Warren, a collector who also commissioned Rodin's . It's a lovely thing, a naked couple carved in Hopton Wood stone, clinging to one another as if sex were a matter of life and death (which it is, sometimes).

Does it change anything knowing that one of the models was Gill's sister, Gladys, with whom he was then having an incestuous relationship? Not really. It has an existence all of its own, this carving, powerful and true. Gill made it but it's we who keep its meaning alive, bringing to it our feelings, our thoughts, our sense, however muddled, of what it means to be human.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The idea of 'ethical art' is nonsense. We have to separate art from life | Rachel Cooke

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Rachel Cooke: We'd be wrong to let the sordid revelations about Graham Ovenden's sex life colour our appreciation of his work

# data[].attributes.headline
To what extent should the arts have a moral function?

# data[].attributes.subject
To what extent should the arts have a moral function?

# data[].attributes.body
In the article we found, it said that art should not be censored because it is unethical. There was a cartoon that had 8 frames but 3 of them were censored because of unethical ideals such as incest, abuse, and sexual experimentation. In my opinion, there are ideals that I do not agree with, but they should not be censored. Art is a way to express yourself personally and if we choose to censor certain things it will set a precedent for censorship in the future.