Virtue Quest

You've got to love a man who loves his mother

So, as I mentioned in the comments below, I’m an economic and political ignoramus, and I’m essentially live-blogging my self-education. So, of course, Adam Smith’s classic The Wealth of Nations is on my reading list; I’m working through it now.

Now, I’ve been told that Smith isn’t quite the die-hard laissez faire 100% regulation free super-capitalist my mother warned me about. I’m advised that he’s quite a moral guy, and sees an important role for government regulation in the marketplace, but that those parts come later in the book. I’m happy to keep reading.

But there are a few major red flags popping up in the first few chapters, and I thought I’d mention them because they all have one thing in common: they put things ahead of people.

Unwarranted assumptions

Smith makes a number of assertions at the beginning of his work, (more…)

A lot on my mind

So the family matter has taken up more time than I expected. Such is life. But I’m adapting, trying to do what good I can with the limited time and energy and other resources available.

And that’s a big chunk of what all of life is about. It’s what I was trying to do when I had a cold. It’s what every business does in making a budget. And someone famously defined politics as “the art of the possible.”

The virtue of prudence is, of course, all about making just that kind of judgment call: (more…)

'Nuff said

I was driving a friend to the airport, and we got talking about media and politics – always a dangerous combination. My friend was talking about how 1) NPR doesn’t take a strong enough stand on the truth or falsehood of some news items; and 2) it’s utterly irrational to dispute the reality of global warming.

I’ve got no dog in either fight. For the record, I listen to NPR occasionally and find it to focus on rather different issues (it tends to give a strangely large portion of time to pelvic issues) than the other local news stations, but with not too different a slant or bias. I’m sure that human activity has a significant effect on our climate but I’m always suspicious of a scientist who considers a question as closed and beyond dispute. What if Einstein never disputed Newton? Or Newton, Aristotle? Or Aristotle, Plato? Etc.

So, being the argumentative type, I asked him how his vision for NPR/PBS would be so different from FOX News, which he excoriates as a “propaganda machine.” And I asked him how to cover the genuine dispute over changes in the climate.

He replied that the news should investigate facts, and should not just give a “Republicans say X, Democrats say Y. Who’s to say what’s true?” account. Which I entirely agree with, so long as the facts are themselves clear and indisputable.

As to the reality of global warming, he recommended to me Al Gore’s film, An Inconvenient Truth. When I asked about the apparent manipulation of data and the secrecy policies I’d heard about, he simply replied that the science was solid and established and irrefutable.

Faith and trust

Now, a car ride to the airport is not the time to draw out a detailed philosophical argument. So I don’t want to be clear that I don’t think my friend was just avoiding questions or justifying his own beliefs. Having had detailed philosophical arguments with him, I know he’s a very smart and savvy debate partner.

But the situation reminded me of the way debates seem to be conducted in public forums these days: claiming that a position is indisputable, and therefore implying that one’s opponent is either stupid or arguing in bad faith.

It’s a subtle form of ad hominem,

an argument that fails because it focuses on the person rather than on the issue. And it’s all over. It’s the foundation of virtually every political ad I’m hearing on the radio and seeing on TV – all of which seem to be attack ads. It’s also rife in the blogosphere, in which the same statement seems to be taken entirely differently depending on whether it’s posted on the Huffington Post or the Drudge Report.

So, being an all-around skeptic, I tend to be very cautious about where I put my trust. I’m willing, even happy, to play devil’s advocate against just about any position, because I’ve discovered that most “facts” are indeed open to dispute, or at least to deeper questioning.

It is perhaps ironic that one of my greatest certainties is that most things in life are uncertain. I know how limited my own knowledge is, and how narrow my understanding is of what I know. When I’m relying on other people – which is foundational to human life – I tend to put more faith in those who also seem aware of their own limits than in those who claim an absolute certainty. People who know their limits are less likely to attempt to overreach.

Tools for life

This is why (to continue an argument from last week) I rely on tools like logic, or like the traditional structure of the virtues. I know how easily I make mistakes in my thinking or screw up my own life, left to my own devices. Ways of thinking and acting that have been tested through generations, that have had many of the kinks worked out of them, are reliable guides and serve as reality checks when I’m facing a difficult problem.

More than that, they give me something beyond my own opinions or desires that I can base a real and deep communication with others on. Logic and virtue help me sort out what’s real and true from what’s agenda.

Classical virtue - very classy

I was talking with a friend this weekend, and she said that she was a little confused when she first visited my blog because it wasn’t clear what kind of virtue I was talking about. So I took another look at the page, and I realize that the words “classical” and “cardinal” are entirely missing from the page.

I’ll rectify that soon, but in the meantime I realized that it never hurts to take another look at the big picture.

The classical virtues

The main reason I’m writing this blog is as a kind of public self-improvement exercise. I’ve found that the classical philosophy of virtue describes my strengths, my faults, and my potential. It also gives a very practical structure to work on overcoming my weaknesses and to work toward my potential.

These virtues are traditionally grouped under the four “cardinal” virtues and the three “theological” virtues: (more…)

Cutting through to the heart of the question

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.

"Have you read my new book?"

I just returned from breakfast with George Weigel – he happened to pick my table to sit at – who was this morning’s speaker for the Catholic Professionals of Seattle. The basic gist of his talk was to promote his newest book: The End and the Beginning, which is a “sequel” and a completion of his 1999 biography of Pope John Paul II, Witness to Hope.

There was a bit of cold war spy drama, and a bit of “Lifestyles of the Holy and Famous,” and a bit of Vatican inside baseball; but one detail from his presentation jumped out at me. He said that he took part of the structure of his book from the process of canonization – the Catholic Church’s process of declaring someone a saint. One of the stages asks witnesses to describe the potential saint’s life in terms of the theological and cardinal virtues: Faith, Hope, and Charity; Prudence, Justice, Courage, and Temperance. Mr. Weigel noted, as an aside, that it’s an interesting exercise to look at life through the lens of the virtues, but that most people don’t do it.

A life out of focus

The virtues really form the only lens that has been able to bring my own life in to focus. But I only stumbled upon them by accident, myself. The classical model of virtue runs almost directly counter to most of twenty-first century American culture.

Now, Americans tend to value daring, or initiative, or valor; and that quality is similar to courage. Americans appreciate cleverness and foresight; those are certainly aspects of prudence. And it goes almost without saying that Americans are passionate about rights, which are a part of the virtue of justice.

However, American culture takes these values for granted, as a collection of qualities whose importance is assumed to be self-evident. In fact, it’s a kind of jumble that ultimately serves another purpose: one’s own interests.

Following the more-or-less normal course of life, I always found myself confused: should I take a risk or should I follow the safe course? Should I insist on my rights or make sure I’m not trampling someone else’s? Should I pursue my own interests or those of my employer/family/country?

Putting life in focus

When I discovered the idea of the virtues, I finally found a principle to help me answer all those questions. Like putting on my glasses, it brought all the fuzzy shapes into focus, and I could see more clearly what to do – and, more importantly, why to do it.

The virtues depend on one another. Love, or Charity, shows us what is good, and drives us to pursue it. Prudence shows us what is real, and sorts out the details of the situation as it really exists. These two virtues form the bedrock and cornerstone of our lives.

Justice and Faith both guide us in knowing what to do: we give to everyone what belongs to them, and we recognize them as fellow children of God, infinite in dignity and worthy of profound respect. These virtues form the framing structure that gives shape to our lives.

Hope, Courage, and Temperance all give us the strength or the stamina to follow through on the loving and prudent actions that Justice and Faith guide us to do. They support us in the face of despair, or fear, or temptation. They are like cross-braces that give a building strength and stability.

Taken together, the virtues describe the whole form of a person’s life.

An end and a beginning?

As Mr. Weigel points out in the life of Pope John Paul II, the virtues allow us to understand the depth and complexity of a man whose actions sometimes appeared confusing or contradictory to American eyes.

But I find virtue is as important at the beginning of each day as it is at the end of a life. I ask, how can I understand my own life; and how can I bring it to be the best life I can carry out, the kind of life I was created to live?

Ignatius the knight, before he became Ignatius the saint

I’ve recently started a nine-month “retreat” – though maybe a better name would be a spiritual workshop – based on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. The goal of the retreat, at least for me at this point in my life, is to learn the skill and process of discernment.

Discernment is the ability to see clearly or, maybe better, to see to the heart of the matter. It is the ability to tell one thing from another. So with physical vision, for example, it is the ability to tell your mother from your sister when they’re still a quarter mile down the street.

In morality, it is the ability to tell good from evil, (which usually is easy,) or to distinguish one good from another, (which often is harder). It is the skill of seeing the good that I should pursue in this situation, and the good that I should let go, at least for the moment.

Getting to the Exercises

I had long been suspicious of the Ignatian Exercises because, from what people told me of them, it sounded like they boiled down to “find your heart’s deepest desire.” But there’s much more to life than the desires of my heart, even the deepest ones, so I spent many years avoiding the Exercises.

However, after only the first couple sessions, I’ve discovered to my great delight (and only partly to my surprise) that the Exercises contain a great deal more that mere emotionalism. I figured as much, since they’ve stood the test of five centuries; but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find a director who would go beyond the passions.

Putting my questions in order

I should say here that I’m bringing what I’m learning to this blog as I’m learning it. In other words, these are my first impressions, in the moment of discovery. Please don’t take this as a complete exposition on Ignatius or his program.

One of the first things I’m learning is that discernment involves putting my questions in the proper order. Here’s what I’ve sorted out at this point:

1. What desires, attachments, thoughts persist in me? What remains strong over time? What are the deep desires of my heart?
2. Where do these attachments or desires lead? What are their various results or consequences?
3. What do I choose to be my goal or destination?
4. Seeing my desires and my destination, what practical step will I take? Which desire will I pursue, and how?
5. Having taken that action, what in fact happened? Were there any surprises, or anything to consider in taking my next action

Obviously, this is a process for major decisions; everyday decisions, I hope, can be made more easily and without so much reflection. But since I have trouble with both kinds of decision-making, I’m very glad for any tool of discernment that comes my way.

House and Cuddy, clearly in love

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.

Eileen Nearne

I ran across this eulogy of Eileen “Didi” Nearne, an agent of Britain’s Special Operations Executive charged with maintaining communications with France during World War II.

She worked cleverly and faithfully, but ultimately was captured and tortured by the Gestapo (apparently using a technique similar to waterboarding). She was interred in a concentration camp, but escaped and hid until the Allies arrived.

I tend to imagine a war as a highly dramatic situation where the moral lines stand out more clearly; but Didi’s work, for the most part, took a much more everyday aspect. She operated a wireless set. She held down a day job. She had to decide when to tell a lie and when to tell the truth. She had to make difficult choices with uncertain consequences. Her stakes were, in some ways, higher; but the nature of her choice was not very different from the kind of choices I face each morning.

She maintained her cover as long as she could, but when captured she refused to contribute her labor to the Nazi war effort suffered greatly for her stand on principle. She managed, not only to escape herself, but to help others to escape with her. This required both prudence and courage in choosing just how best to combat the evils she faced.

When she returned home, she also returned to a more “normal” life. She did not cling to either the pain or the glory of her work during the war. She lived with her sister, and made the best contribution she could to her community. She continued to suffer what we now would call Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from what she endured during her captivity. But she resisted the temptation to leverage her heroism or her suffering for personal benefit.

Her service was to God and Country, and she left it at that. She may not have been a saint, (or maybe she was); but she certainly was a model of courage and prudence, and is a good reminder to me that simply doing my work quietly can sometimes help change the world for the better.

Other information is available:

• Her biography at Wikipedia
• Obituary in the London Telegraph
• Obituary in the New York Times

Find the right tool for the right job

My grandfather was an engineer, and one of the things he taught me was how to use a tool. “A tool,” he’d tell me, “is designed to make the job easier, not harder. If the job is too hard, either you have the wrong tool for the job or you’re using the tool the wrong way.”

I think this is one of the best ways to describe the moral and social principle of subsidiarity.

What is subsidiarity?

I don’t like to use technical terms or jargon because, nine times out of ten, they muddy things up rather than bringing any clarity. But “subsidiarity” is a really useful term, and I haven’t found a more common synonym to use. I think that’s because subsidiarity is a principle that’s almost entirely forgotten in modern American culture.

The short definition is: in social or political structures, the bigger or “higher” structures exist to support the smaller, more local, or “lower” structures – because it’s at those local structures that the concrete problem actually needs to be solved.

If there’s a bridge that needs to be repaired, you can’t repair it with a national policy. You need to repair it at the bridge itself.

A real classy party

Now politics isn’t my strong suit; but political involvement is a responsibility that comes with American citizenship, so, I’m striving to educate myself politically. Friends who know this recommended to me this article from The American Spectator (printable version here), a magazine that has (I think it’s safe to say) somewhat conservative leanings.

At the heart of the article, though, is a startlingly “leftist” assumption: that the world consists of two classes of people, the “Ruling Class” and the “Country Class”, and that these classes are opposed to one another. This is too bad, because this faux-Marxian notion undermines some very wise insights. For example:

When pollsters ask the American people whether they are likely to vote Republican or Democrat in the next presidential election, Republicans win growing pluralities. But whenever pollsters add the preferences “undecided,” “none of the above,” or “tea party,” these win handily, the Democrats come in second, and the Republicans trail far behind. That is because while most of the voters who call themselves Democrats say that Democratic officials represent them well, only a fourth of the voters who identify themselves as Republicans tell pollsters that Republican officeholders represent them well.

From this foundation, he builds an argument (which I find rather compelling) that the Democratic Party is the real political power in this nation (even when not in office), and that the Republican Party has largely succeeded by imitating Democrats tactically while opposing them rhetorically.

However, an increasing number of people find the tactics of American politics – whether handled in an amateur way by the Democrats or in a clumsy way by the Republicans – to be out of touch with down-to-earth, day-to-day life. In particular, they find it problematic that every problem, no matter how big or how small, needs a political solution.

• There’s a hurricane or an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico! It’s up to the president to solve the problem.
• Homosexuals want to “marry” each other and lots of people see problems with that. Better pass a law, or file a lawsuit!
• I’m having trouble finding a job! It’s those dratted {insert reviled political opponents here} who ruined the economy!

Subsidiarity: an alternative to political solutions

It seems to me that we would have better politics if we didn’t try to solve so many problems politically – especially at the national scale. In other words, perhaps we should pay more attention to the principle of subsidiarity.

The only problem with this is that we all, individuals and businesses, local governments and churches, charities and non-profits, all of us would have to shift our entire economic model and most of our structures for getting things done.

That’s not impossible, but it’s hardly easy, and I don’t have a complete solution. But I am increasingly convinced that the way we’ve been doing things is running us all into the ground, and that the principle of subsidiarity is one essential piece of the solution.