Virtue Quest

I know some people who don’t get started on a task or deal with a problem until it becomes a crisis. They wait and procrastinate and put off until further inaction will result in disaster. Then, most of the time, they scramble everything together and get done what needs doing.

They say, “I thrive under pressure.”

Maybe this is true for them. For me, the pressure, the anxiety and the fear, can become overwhelming. I get paralyzed. I drop the ball.

That doesn’t stop me from procrastinating. It just means my threshold for crisis is much lower. A deadline a week or a month away produces as much urgency in me as a tomorrow morning deadline provides for them. I know (from sad experience) that if I put it off any longer, I’ll freeze up and utterly fail.

This gives me the reputation as someone who is responsible, who plans ahead, who is organized. If only.

I’m just as crisis-driven as anybody else. The only difference is my tolerance for anxiety. I hate the stuff. And it’s taken a while for me to learn how to get moving before the pressure crushes me.

Currently, my goal is to head off anxiety at the pass. (more…)

• Clean some part of my apartment – there’s always something that needs cleaning
• Pray
• Read a book on my nearly endless list of books to read
• Call or write a friend, especially one I haven’t talked to for ages
• Prepare a tasty meal
• Review teaching plans and notes
• Practice the bass

The easiest way to avoid bad stuff is to do good stuff. One of my many problems is that I tell myself, “I don’t know what to do!” and the only desires that come to mind are, well, slothful at best. When the best idea I have is to play a mind-numbing game on the computer, then I’m clearly not thinking straight.

Hence this list. It’s not in any particular order, because they’re all good activities. One might be better than another at any given time, but even if I choose one at random it will be better than sitting around trying to come up with a reason not to waste three and a half hours setting up a tower defense against “creeps”. My mind’s in the wrong place if I’m even asking the question, so I need to take some action to get my mind into a better place. This list does the work my mind isn’t capable of doing in those bad moments.

I’m sure I’ll be able to add to it as time goes on.

I’ve just finished reading Hilaire Belloc’s The Servile State. His main argument is that Capitalism is an unstable economic structure which must, sooner or later, settle into a more stable economic structure. The two possibilities for stable structures are slavery and property, and the one we are rapidly descending toward is slavery.

I’m not 100% on board with his argument on the necessary development of capitalism, but I find that anyone who tries to predict the future is very lucky to get even one thing right, and he does a great job of describing the development of such systems as minimum wages, social security, and some dynamics between “labor” and “capital” that had not yet begun in 1912 when he published his book.

The very best part of the book is the beginning where Belloc defines his terms. And the best distinction he makes, or the one most eye-opening to me anyway, is the distinction between political and economic freedom.

Political and economic freedom

Political freedom is what we usually mean when we talk about, well, freedom in the political realm. (more…)

Don’t worry, I’m not going all gushy on myself. Nor do I expect you to.

So one of the things I do to escape from stress is to read about the history of philosophy. So far I have a rough knowledge of Western thought from the Greeks up through about the beginning of the fourteenth century, and a couple bits of Muslim, Indian, and Chinese philosophy from various parts of history.

Anyway, I was reading about John Duns Scotus (ca. 1265 – 1308) in Frederick Copleston’s masterpiece, and I came across the following provocative passage:

Scotus often gave a peculiar stamp or emphasis to the elements he adopted from tradition. Thus in his treatment of the relation of the will to intellect he emphasized freedom rather than love, though he held, it is true, to the superiority of love to knowledge….

This helped me to articulate something I’ve known for some time but have never quite managed to say clearly.

Let me ask you a question. What does your will do? What is the action of your will? What is its purpose?

Okay, that was three questions, or at least, (more…)

As a sophomore in college, I had a single dorm room. No roommate. A space entirely my own. And I remember that, after the first ten minutes, it terrified me. I don’t think I ever finished entirely unpacking.

I had no one to tell me where my things were supposed to go.

I know that most normal people – you do realize I’m rather abnormal, I hope – would feel the thrill of freedom and the drive to creativity in deciding for themselves where their own things should go. But I was very caught up in a way of thinking limited to “right” and “wrong,” that had no room for “good” and its chums “better” and “best”.

It was actually the required class on Western Civilization that woke me up, or started to. (more…)

Anyone who plays guitar (or, as I do, bass guitar,) develops calluses on their fingers where they hold down the strings. It doesn’t take long, maybe a week of playing a little every day; but that can be a painful week, and the strings feel like they’re cutting into the soft flesh at the tips of your fingers. It’s especially bad if you only play occasionally, because any calluses you develop fade away when you’re not playing, so they have to develop all over again.

Whenever I pick up the bass again after neglecting it for a month or so, it’s not just the physical pain I feel. I feel a kind of moral pain, that “I should’ve been practicing all this time.”

But when I do practice regularly, (more…)

The profound James Chastek points out that James T. Kirk must have hated Greek drama:

The Greeks loved sticking characters in the midst of problem for which there is no right answer: Antigone must bury her brother and obey the king; Agamemnon must sail and love his daughter; and the fight between Achilles and Agamemnon is like the fight between the head coach and the star quarterback. The circumstances demand action but make every action wrong, or at least very problematic. This applies even to inaction : Achilles is doing something when he sits in his tent and lets his compatriots get slaughtered and pushed back to the ships.

In other words, the Greek playwrights loved exploring the dynamics of a no-win situation. The near-Greek Alexander the Great took matters to a new level by challenging the limits of the test: using a sword to loose the Gordian Knot.

But most of us don’t have the resources of an Alexander or a Kirk. Most of us, like Antigone or Agamemnon, are stuck facing powers greater than ourselves. Those powers don’t have to be gods; they could be banks, or governments, or even bosses.

And these are the kinds of situations that push all our moral buttons. What do I do when faced with an impossible choice? Do I pay my utilities or my mortgage? Do I alienate my best friend or my brother? Do I break the law or break my promise?

What is impossible?

The reason these situations can’t be easily resolved is because we are all limited, finite human beings. We are not all-powerful. We do not have bottomless bank accounts. We can’t be in two places at once. Eventually, we will die.

But I do have a certain power that is unlimited: that is my freedom. I am able to make choices without any restraint or encumbrance. I will always have to face the consequences of my actions, but my decisions are truly and completely my own.

How does this help anything? Freedom allows me to step away from the choice presented to me and ask another question entirely: what is the good that I can do here?

These situations are only impossible because they present every choice as something evil. But evil does not exist in itself: it is nothing but the loss or distortion of some good. And if the question turns to a choice, not between evils, but about the kind of good I can do – then I see what is truly possible, rather than fearing what is impossible.

Outwitting evil

Only two things are necessary to face any “no-win” decision: a clear understanding of what is good, and a clear knowledge of one’s own abilities.

Granted, gaining true clarity about those things could take a lifetime, or longer. But it shows what is important to look for, what the questions need asking and what questions are mere distractions.

Paying the bills with limited resources won’t get done by worrying about which axe will drop first. But it can be solved by overcoming fear and pride, talking to creditors, seeking different ways to gain income.

Maintaining close relationships with people who hate each other can’t happen by tip-toeing around the situation. But whatever is worth keeping in those relationships will remain if I seek love and honesty rather than avoiding hurt feelings.

It’s true, something will be lost or damaged, whatever choice I make. But this is true of all of life, not just the so-called “no-win” situations. But no good can be done by avoiding loss or hurt. The world is full of powers greater than any one of us, or even all of us together. Our goal is not to avoid suffering, but to do whatever good is possible. And because we can see the real good in the world, good made through our own efforts and those of others, we can trust that our work will not be in vain.

Among my many addictions is the TV show “House, M.D.” (available here on Hulu). For those not similarly addicted, the show revolves around a genius doctor, Gregory House, who refuses to play by the rules – either medically or socially. He’s also addicted to Vicodin. He would have been fired, friendless, and finished long ago if not for the codependent friends who surround him his incredible genius.

It would take too long to bring non-watchers up to speed, so suffice it to say that the show is really soapy, and that a major theme has been that House has a crush on his boss, Lisa Cuddy. But, like a bully in the schoolyard, he shows his affection with meanness.

For reasons beyond my kenning, Cuddy ended the last season by confessing her love for House. The new season began with them taking a day off of work to, um, cuddle in House’s apartment. Great soap opera stuff. But toward the end of the episode, House told her, “This isn’t going to work.” Why? Because, he said, I’m never going to change. I’ll always be the vindictive, manipulative, irresponsible, misanthrope that audiences love to hate.

Cuddy had a great come-back: “I don’t want you to change.” Then she kissed him. *aww…*

Okay, have you wiped away your tears yet?

Good. Because they’re both wrong – at least as far as human beings go.

The more things change…

The fact is, we’re always changing. Some changes we can control: for example, I can choose to ride my bike rather than drive my car today. Other changes are beyond our control: I can’t choose whether to have my appendix burst or whether I get hired at that job I applied for.

Some changes are harder than others: changing my habits of eating are very difficult to change, and require an active effort of mind over a long period of time. Changing the way I respond to people who annoy me requires both a strong desire and the quickness of mind to catch myself before I utter than snarky remark.

However difficult, such changes are possible. But some changes catch me entirely off guard. When I was a kid, I was a huge fan of processed cheese. Now I can’t stand the stuff. On the other hand, I used to hate the taste of tomatoes, but now I’m a big fan – except for ketchup which still makes my tongue curl.

The point is: change is inevitable. The change I can control is how I deal with the changes that are beyond my control.

… the more things stay the same

That said, it’s always the same “thing” that undergoes the change: me. I am the same person who used to hate tomatoes and love processed cheese. I am the same person who used to weigh 150 pounds – or, for that matter, 8 pounds 11 ounces. And my ability to change is restricted by the fact of who and what I am.

I am, first off, a human being. Any attempt to live in some other way, as a plant or as a space alien, will only cause the kind of change called “damage.” I’m also a bookish nerd with a weak back and knees. I’ve tried both playing football and digging ditches; both resulted in unexpected injuries, because my body just isn’t built for those kinds of activity.

My mind, on the other hand, can’t stop asking the sort of questions that drive other people crazy. (A friend visited my apartment for the first time and commented on my bookshelf: “Did you really read The Illiad and The Odyssey for fun?” Well, yes – but only in English translation.) So it’s natural for me to focus my energy on learning and passing on what I’ve learned.

Indeed, it would be unnatural for me to repress that drive in myself, just as it would be unnatural for my athletic friends not to go out for six-mile runs or for my gregarious friends not to check Facebook and call their friends twice a day.

Virtue – mainly the virtue of prudence – lies in recognizing what will change, what can’t change, and then choosing how to live in the midst of it all.

I always feel awkward around the Independence Day holiday. I’m not by inclination a patriot, just as I’m not by inclination a church-goer. I am both these things because I’ve come to see that my own inclinations, or desires, or vices, have led me astray from reality.

So I recognize the honor that is due to the nation of my birth, and my own responsibility to be as good a citizen as I am able. I just have a hard time bringing any emotional *umph* to the celebration.

I also recognize that, while I’m inclined to focus on the naughtiness of my nation and my speculations on how it ought to change, there is a real need to celebrate what is good and true and virtuous in the United States of America. Perhaps it is especially important for someone like myself to participate in the celebration, exactly as a corrective to my own erroneous inclinations.

The virtue of patriotism

Thomas Aquinas does not list “patriotism” among the virtues, but he does note that all people are both subject to law and responsible for the good of society, and that Justice requires respect for authority and Charity requires action for the good of one’s fellows. As he puts it,

Consequently, this very act of loving someone because he is akin or connected with us, or because he is a fellow-countryman or for any like reason that is referable to the end of charity, can be commanded by charity, so that, out of charity both eliciting and commanding, we love in more ways those who are more nearly connected with us. (ST II-II q26 a7)

These are what make up the essence of patriotism: loving one’s country and fellow citizens exactly because they are one’s fellows. It is closely related to the love of family, whom we do not choose but whom we must love anyway, whether we like it or not. Family and country are, in a sense, a school of charity; they teach us how to love even when loving is difficult.

Ironically (given the whoop-de-do about Church and State in this particular country), it is the Catechism of the Catholic Church that, I think, states most clearly what patriotism is all about:

It is the duty of citizens to contribute along with civil authorities to the good of society in a spirit of truth, justice, solidarity, and freedom. The love and service of one’s country follow from the duty of gratitude and belong to the order of charity. (CCC 2239; emphasis in the original.)

What is critical, to me at least, about this approach is the balance it strikes: one’s country is to be loved, but not because it is better or stronger or more worthy than any other nation; rather, exactly because it is one’s own. I did not choose to be born an American; but I was, and it is as an American that I love the U.S.A. A Canadian or a Chinese might love the U.S.A. for some other reason. Perhaps they admire the American ideal, or perhaps they enjoy economic benefits from America, or any number of other reasons. But my own love of my country is founded simply on the fact that it is mine, or rather, that I belong to my country in a similar way that I belong to my family.

(I’m tempted to add a video of one of my favorite patriotic satires here, but instead I’ll just provide a link.)

American virtues

So, given that it’s not at all to my credit that I am American, what is it that I’ll celebrate with grilling and fireworks and other forms of pyromania today?

First off, I’ll celebrate the very good things I have myself received from the United States: a certain economic opportunity, even in difficult times such as these, to make ends meet without resorting to undignified or immoral work; a definite social opportunity to meet and converse with people from all walks of life and all regions of the country (and even the world), and to learn from their experiences; the English language which, thanks to American dominance following WW2 (augmenting the impact of English colonialism), has become a global language, giving me the advantage of communication with those I would otherwise have no connection; a political system that provides real opportunity (even if limited and corrupted by “special interests”) to contribute to and impact the governance of the society I live in.

I’ll also celebrate the genuine good that the United States has done in the world: through the citizens’ works of charity, of scholarship, of invention; and through the occasionally wise governmental policies, such as developing our highway system or contributing to the reconstruction of Germany and Japan after WW2.

Celebrating the good does not mean I stop critiquing the bad; it simply means I acknowledge that there is virtue to be found even among rampant vice. It means I extend to my country the same charity I extend to my neighbors and myself. I will celebrate my brother’s birthday, even if my brother is a criminal; I will celebrate my friend’s success, even if my friend is often a fool. So, although I am highly critical of many aspects of American politics and culture, I will celebrate America’s birthday with both gratitude and joy. In other words, I will practice the virtue of patriotism, trusting that both I and my country will grow toward greater virtue through practice.

And besides, who can pass up an opportunity for grilled meat?

First off, I just want to say, “Thank you!” to readers Jeana and bob, who in the past week or so have helped me fulfill one of my goals for this blog: to generate provocative and intriguing conversation. Thanks!

So, in continuing the question of whether there’s any such thing as “natural rights” – or, more generally, what Thomists call “natural law” – the next step is to consider … the Order of the Universe!

Actually, I’m serious. By “order,” I mean specifically teleological order. In non-techno-babble, that means, whether things are in and of themselves directed to an end beyond themselves. The classic example is the eye: the eye is ordered toward the sense of sight, and so an eye that does not see is a “bad” eye.

Order and morality

Now, someone might object that you can’t blame the eye for being blind. And that’s true. So it’s important to distinguish between what’s called “ontological evil” and “moral evil.” “Ontological evil,” or evil in “being,” is simply the lack of full existence or perfection in a thing. A diseased tree, or a collapsed bridge, or a blind eye is “bad” because it lacks the fullness of what it is to BE a tree, or a bridge, or an eye.

“Moral evil,” on the other hand, involves the freedom of the will. Without personal freedom, there can be no “bad” or “evil” except in the ontological sense. For something to be evil in a moral sense, it must be a bad choice

Now, according to Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas and those who follow their tradition, the mind has several major parts, two of which are the intellect and the will. The purpose of the intellect is to understand things abstractly. The purpose of the will is to choose freely. If the intellect has a problem – for example, my intellect has great difficulty grasping poetry and metaphor, but thrives on mathematics – then we recognize that as a problem in the mind. I tell people that I’m “bad” with poetry, and they know what I mean.

If the will has a problem, it affects a person’s ability to choose freely. Sometimes this is a mental illness; for example, a psychopath is not free to act empathetically, or even responsibly. But often, we limit our own freedom by our very choices themselves. If I choose to insult you, I am no longer free to be your friend.

The slavery of vice

Now, part of the nature of the will is to develop habits. Habits are to the will what memory is to the intellect: they keep us from having to re-invent the wheel every time we hit the road. So, a virtuous habit is one that protects, or even extends the freedom of the will. Vice, on the other hand, increasingly limits the will’s freedom.

But this freedom is not freedom to do anything at any time; it is freedom to fulfill the nature of the person. It is freedom to pursue the good.

The best image I’ve found is that of a piano keyboard. Anyone at any time is free to hit any key or combination of keys on the keyboard. (This is what Pinckaers calls “freedom of indifference.”) But only someone who has practiced a great deal is free to play Debussy, or to compose an original work of music.

Now, every moment of every day, our will faces at least 88 possible choices of what to do next. If we practice making those choices well, with an idea of harmony or rhythm or beauty in mind, then we will develop habits that allow us to make more interesting and more complex and more, well, good choices. The will really does become more free, more fulfilled in achieving its purpose.

But if we simply hammer away at life according to mood or blind emotion, like a piano student who refuses to adopt proper posture or fingering, then we limit our freedom and risk hurting both ourselves and the instrument – that is, everybody around us.

Natural morality

This view of the human person, one who has a purpose or an end in both being and acting, and whose purpose is to pursue greater and greater goods, is the foundation of any theory of natural rights, or natural law, or natural morality of any kind.

Some thinkers have tried to do away with “human nature” without losing universal morality, but I haven’t found any of them (that I’ve read) to be convincing.

Others have noted that it’s incredibly difficult to pin down exactly what’s involved in “human nature” and have accepted that rejecting nature also means rejecting any universal morality. But then why do even they act as if moral questions remained vital? Dostoyevski’s Crime and Punishment is a brilliant exploration of the problems with this way of thinking.

So that’s largely why I’m convinced that there really is such a thing as human nature, and that the nature of the will is to choose freely, and that virtue is the true path to freedom and fulfillment and happiness.

But I’ve been talking too much. Looking forward to continuing the conversation.