Still Toying with "Tommy": On Kipling and Prejudice

It is a coincidence that today happens to be Martin Luther King, Jr., Day and I post a short blog note -- my first entry in some time -- on prejudice. My reflections are not on racial prejudice in the United States. There is unfortunately much of that still to be reflected on and rectified. What stimulates my thoughts is the poetry of a perhaps unlikely source: Rudyard Kipling.

In the estimation of George Orwell, "Kipling is a jingo imperialist, he is morally insensitive and aesthetically disgusting" ("Rudyard Kipling," Collection of Essays, 117). Orwell was a contemporary and published this essay in 1942, six years after Kipling's death. Orwell was also a writer of powerful pen and deep cultural observation. I, however, find what little I know of Kipling's verse to be complex -- complex with regard to imperialism, morality, and aesthetics. More than Orwell concedes, Kipling is at times artful in his moral critique of British imperialism and social prejudice.

Rudyard Kipling, 1895

One example comes from his poem "Tommy" (1890). The speaker is a common British soldier, who was by this time already known in slang as Tommy Atkins. Such soldiers then, as now, in both the U.K., the United States, and other countries, came often from the lowest socio-economic strata of society. They were much in demand as Great Britain expanded its imperialistic ambitions ever more globally afar in the latter half of the nineteenth century. They did the dirty work that made the crown sparkle with gems and ever increasing wealth. Kipling captures in this poem through Tommy's decidedly non-Oxford dialect a tension in British imperialism that consisted of not only prejudice against those foreign others but also those domestic others.

The speaker recounts in each stanza some experience of social prejudice, exclusion, ostracism, ridicule, moral snobbery, and a myopic concern for social justice. Then he follows each main experience with a varying chorus that points out the inconsistent ways in which not only proper British society and politicians but also bar maids and common theater-goers disregard "Tommy" (the familiar form of [dis]regard) in everyday situations, but quickly revert to "Mr. Atkins" (the respectful form of needy regard) when the topic turns to patriotic parades, military deployment, celebration of national heroes, personal protection, and defense from foreign enemies.

Striking, among other things, is the way in which the speaker captures how embarrassingly quickly disregard for him and his "kind" can turn to regard, nastiness can turn to need, jeering can turn to appreciation, and rejection can turn to reception. The aesthetic oscillation between the vocal forms of address "Tommy" and "Mr. Atkins" reflects the hypocrisy, or two-facedness, of those in society who so alternate.

Particularly indicting, it seems to me today, is the way in which politicians, as the speaker reports, can outwardly advocate improved military conditions and benefits for common soldiers, yet not only do they fail to deliver but they also miss what is most important to this common solider who would stand to benefit: humane, caring, consistent treatment face-to-face. The speaker says he would go without even more food provisions if those advocating them would just treat him like a valued human being: "We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. / Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face."

Finally, the poem ends with the speaker's chilling reflection of social and moral condemnation: "An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!" If there were any doubt about whether this hypocritical, inhumane instrumentalism of imperial and social convenience were done in the dark, the speaker removes it. He not only passively suffers; he actively sees. He experiences it painfully as he describes in so many situations, but what he ends with is a self-conscious recognition of his experienced injustice that, with the exclamation point, emphasizes his emotional anguish and the implied accusation. The sense is that this injustice does not escape notice -- and it will not escape judgment either.

Sometimes we need strong voices like those of "Tommy" or "MLK" to bring to light the various forms of inhumane treatment, marginalization, and prejudice in our own midst that work against human flourishing, consistent implementation of moral values, and social harmony.

Tommy

By Rudyard Kipling

(1890; reprinted in Barrack-Room Ballads, 1892)

I went into a public 'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:

O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins," when the band begins to play
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins," when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls! 

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap.
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit. 

Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an` Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes," when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints; 

While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' Tommy, fall be'ind,"
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace. 

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country " when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

On the Finer Points of "Fine"

The word fine is one of those lexical units whose meaning, or meaning potential, is frustratingly multiple. It spans the range from signifying satisfaction to reflecting dissatisfaction.  It is a little bit like, as I noted previously, "fuhgeddaboudit" in the fine film Donnie Brasco.  In an effort to clear up my own thinking about it, which stems in part from personal communication failure, I want to look at the finer points of what we mean by fine.

DFW and the Fundamental Attribution Error

A couple of weeks ago I decided to revisit David Foster Wallace's famous Kenyon College commencement address from May 21, 2005.  It was subsequently revised and published as "This Is Water."  (The audio and various text editions, including a transcription of the original speech and one cleaned up, are easily available on the web.)  Among many things that struck me upon both rereading and listening to the address, one thing jumped out in particular.  And I think it is one key reason that DFW's address went viral back then and is still discussed now.

Narcissism on the Rise: Notable and Quotable

From D. G. Myers, Social Psychology (11^th ed.; New York:  McGraw-Hill, 2012), 54.

After tracking self-importance across the past several decades, psychologist Jean Twenge (2006; Twenge and others, 2008) reports that today’s young generation – Generation Me, she calls it -- express more narcissism (by agreeing with statements such as “If I ruled the world, it would be a better place” or “I think I am a special person”).  Narcissism scores rose over time on college campuses from Alabama to Maryland to California (Stewart & Bernhardt, 2010; Twenge & Foster, 2008, 2010).  Narcissism correlates with materialism, the desire to be famous, inflated expectations, fewer committed relationships and more “hooking up,” more gambling, and more cheating, all of which have also risen as narcissism has increased.  Narcissism is also linked to a lack of empathy -- the ability to take someone else’s perspective and be concerned about their [sic] problems -- and empathy has dropped precipitously among college students (Konrath & others, 2011).  The researchers speculate that today’s generation may be so wrapped up in online interaction that their in-person interaction skills have atrophied.  Or, they say, empathy might have declined because young people today are “feeling too busy on their paths to success,” single-mindedly concentrating on their own achievement because the world is now so competitive.  Yet, ironically, those high in narcissism and low in empathy are less -- not more – successful in the long run, making lower grades in college and performing poorly at work (Judge & others, 2006; Robins & Beer, 2001).

But what about a different version of that last ironic phenomenon (high narcissists with low empathy who are lower performing academically and professionally but nevertheless are long-term successful)?  That phenomenon which is familiar to many of us in our everyday experience has a technical explanation attached to it:  promote the jerk and make him someone else’s problem.

There actually is a social scientific explanation more nuanced than the (accurate) one that I just gave.  It is that “even if overconfidence produces subpar results, others still perceive it positively.” Therefore, a jerk, sub-par performer is elevated in an attempt to pair appropriately his status with his perceived attitude.  The thought might be something like, “Well, I find him gratingly obnoxious, but he must be the type of person who gets ahead, because he displays similar traits of authority, power, and exceptionality.” 

We may not be able to control the behavior of narcissistic jerks, but we can be more mindful not to perceive them as better than they are.  And we can take more self-conscious care to check our first psychological impression and not put them on a pedestal.

Of course, sometimes narcissists are at the top simply because they own the place.

Was Rousseau an Enlightenment Figure?

I have recently been re-reading some key texts of modernity, which partly explains my blog silence for the last few months.  Among these texts are essays on the Enlightenment by Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) and Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778).  Sometimes the best questions for learning are the most basic ones.  Here are two:

1. What was Kant's understanding of the Enlightenment?
2. Was Rousseau an Enlightenment figure according to Kant's definition?

Testing Tolerance

Until now I have tried to stay above the fray involving Chick-fil-A.  I post this only to say that the main point of an editorial in today's The New York Times strikes me as correct:  Government officials, such as the mayors of Boston and Chicago, the Speaker of the New York City Council, and an alderman of Chicago, ought not to discriminate against a lawful business enterprise on the basis of the personal views of the business owner.  Those officials have said that they would block additional expansion of Chick-fil-A franchises in their jurisdictions.

The editors at the Times, as well as NYC mayor Michael Bloomberg, hold a view of the permissible parties involved in and the moral nature of marriage that is opposed to that of Chick-fil-A owner Dan Cathy.  What they both accurately recognize, however, is that the public relations campaign and business threats by government officials against Mr. Cathy amount to intolerance of his religious beliefs and his entitlement both to hold and to express them.  As Mr. Bloomberg is quoted in the editorial as saying, “You can’t have a test for what the owners’ personal views are before you decide to give a [business] permit to do something in the city.”

The Chicago and Boston mayors', the NYC councilwoman's, and the Chicago alderman's views are intolerant because they seek to deny public rights (the rights to pursue property and lawful enterprise) as an attempt to censure private rights (the rights to free religious belief, free speech, and liberty of conscience).  These officials may attempt this in protest to, or as an expression of disagreement about, some other closely-held matter, but they are still intolerant.

And they are intolerant, moreover, because they deny in practice something at the heart of political liberalism, the fact of reasonable pluralism.  In a contemporary democratic society, John Rawls observes, the fact of reasonable pluralism is "the fact of profound and irreconcilable differences in citizens' reasonable comprehensive religious and philosophical conceptions of the world, and in their views of the moral and aesthetic values to be sought in human life" (Rawls, Justice as Fairness, 3).  The government officials do this -- deny in effect the fact of reasonable pluralism -- precisely by seeking to banish from their political communities (because they cannot be tolerated) those who differ in moral and civic viewpoints from them.  They do not accept profound and irreconcilable differences in worldview; they wish to eliminate them.  The officials make no room for public debate about how to balance in the community all agreed upon liberties with those that may be disputed.  In fact, they make little to no room for the exponents themselves who hold and express differing viewpoints.

In this vein, a creative thought experiment was narrated by Mona Charen in a column that she titled "Al-Rahim and Chicago Values."  She describes a situation in which a Muslim business owner of convenience stores articulates to a Muslim periodical his belief in the traditional, Quranic view of marriage, which is a man's having not more than four wives.  Apparently this differs from the view of marriage held by the mayors of Chicago and Boston, who go on record that they will do all within their power to prevent him from opening up more convenience stores in their cities, because his personal beliefs about heterosexual matrimony are at odds with their and their cities' approach to marriage and civil unions.  What would the response be to this Muslim man's comments?

This is a thought experiment, because it is retelling the story of Mr. Cathy as Mr. Al-Rahim, the story of a Christian businessman's expression of his personal viewpoint as the story of a Muslim's.  As Ms. Charen explains, "Rahim is an invention to illustrate the selective outrage of liberal Democrats. It is simply impossible to imagine that liberal Democrats would treat affirmations of Muslim faith with the kind of bullying that Cathy and Chick-fil-A have received.  Yet Islam is at least as doctrinally tough on homosexuality as Christianity is, and considerably tougher in practice."

The fact of reasonable pluralism, as Prof. Rawls understands it, is an unavoidable fixture of contemporary democratic republics such as the one in the United States.  It is also, as the present brouhaha attests, difficult to navigate in conjunction with a commitment to the core and treasured liberties of the moderns:  freedom of thought, speech, property ownership, and liberty of conscience.  (I borrow the phrase "liberties of the moderns" from Prof. Rawls; see Justice as Fairness, 140-45.)  As much as definitions of fairness still need to be clarified carefully, about which I wrote in a previous post, so, too, does the concept of tolerance.

Tolerance of a belief is not the same as acceptance of that belief.  In my view, however, in common, everyday practice, tolerance has become in many people's minds synonymous with conforming to, or acceptance of, their viewpoint.  This conception of tolerance is the converse of the popular conception of intolerance:  If you accept my view about P, then you are tolerant; if you do not accept -- do not agree with, do not conform to -- my view about P, then you are intolerant.  Disagreement is designated intolerance; reasonable difference of opinion is often quickly labeled bigotry.

But this popular conception, where it prevails, not only may serve as easy ad hominem argumentation.  This conception evacuates tolerance of all its meaning, for tolerance assumes non-acceptance.  It presupposes disagreement.  It says that a differing viewpoint and the one who holds it are not to be excluded from public discourse and the public square.  Reasonable disagreement will be endured and respected -- tolerated.  By contrast, to be intolerant is to be unwilling to grant equal freedom of expression or to penalize people unjustly for making free expressions.

The fact of reasonable pluralism tests real and workable conceptions of tolerance.  We may not agree with the fictional Mr. Al-Rahim's endorsement of traditional, Quranic marriage.  We may object to the real-life Mr. Cathy's advocacy of traditional marriage as a conjugal union.  These sorts of expression of speech and conviction of conscience are rights protected by the Constitution and enshrined as Constitutional essentials.

What we may not do, however, is this.  In advocating for fairness for all, we may not practice a selective view of fairness for some.  In an attempt to prevent certain Muslims and Christians from supposedly treating a group as separate but equal (for so goes the argument for same-sex "marriage"), we may not treat these Muslims and Christians themselves as separate but equal.  We may not, in other words, claim that they are equal but seek to separate them from our civic and business life.

But this is what the mayors of Chicago and Boston have done.  They say, "You may have your beliefs, but you cannot pursue your conception of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness in our community through your business enterprise.  You are equal, but you must remain separate from us.  We can discriminate, but you cannot."  In so doing, that is, by practicing a real separate-but-equal approach to matters of freedom of speech and lawful employment, these officials have undermined their professed moral justification for same-sex marriage on the basis of the same, namely, ending a purported practice of separate but equal.

Whether, in fact, the debate about the definition of marriage admits, as some parties believe, the separate but equal line from Plessy v. Ferguson (1896) is another matter.  The black community, for instance, does not on the whole view the subject in that light, and they might be positioned better than others to know separate but equal when they see it.  Separate but equal sounds nice; it is a powerful sound bite with a known civil rights pregnancy; but I am not sure that upon closer inspection it fully applies.  The debate about marriage seems to me fundamentally about the wisdom and propriety of redefining -- and thereby changing -- an indispensable cultural/civil (and arguably religious) institution, as well as about the moral consequences entailed by such a redefinition.

Be that as it may, the mayoral hubbub about Chick-fil-A demonstrates the ways in which so-called tolerance is frequently championed but inconsistently practiced.  For calling out what would amount to unjust policing and penalizing of law-abiding citizens and businesses for protected First Amendment rights, The New York Times editorial board is to be commended.

A Taxing Problem

Ari Fleischer writes in an op-ed in Monday's The Wall Street Journal about the latest Congressional Budget Office (CBO) report on U.S. taxation.  Mr. Fleischer discusses this in connection with the presidential campaign rhetoric about the income tax system.  He produces a graph, similar to a table produced recently by Harvard's Greg Mankiw, that helpfully illustrates the actual distribution of taxes paid by income level.

Mr. Fleischer's main point is this:  "If fairness in paying taxes means the amount you pay is based on the amount you make, then the only group in America paying at least a 'fair share' is the top 20% — people who make more than $74,000. For everyone else, the tax code is a bargain."  He substantiates his position based on a comparison of data that is summarized in the following graphic.

Based on the CBO report, Mr. Fleischer examines "the top 20% of income earners (over $74,000).  They make 50% of the nation's income but pay nearly 70% of all federal taxes.  The remaining 30% of the tax burden is borne by 80% of the taxpayers, those who make less than $74,000. In short, this group's share of taxes paid, 30%, is lower than the share of income they earn, 50%."

He compares not just income level to percentage of federal taxes paid in the period under review (through 2009).  He also tries to put this into historical perspective:

the share of taxes paid by the top 20% has gone up over the last 30 years, while the share of taxes paid by everyone else has gone down. … The top 20% in 1979 made 44.9% of the nation's income and paid 55.3% of all federal taxes. Thirty years later, the top 20% made 50.8% of the nation's income and their share of federal taxes paid had jumped to 67.9%. … Meanwhile, the federal tax burden on middle- and lower-income earners is lighter. In 1979, the bottom 20% paid barely any taxes at all, just 2.1%. Now their share of taxes is a minuscule 0.3%.

I doubt that the data that Mr. Fleischer presents will be disputed.  What will be disputed is his interpretation of the data.  It is important to remind ourselves of this distinction (data and interpretation of it), even generally, because it will help to clarify the moral issues that are debated and thereby to promote improved public discourse.

Although I sympathize with the perspective that Mr. Fleischer advances, I also think that he misses something critical to the ongoing national conversation about monetary and tax "fairness."  This is a complicated topic, but let me offer one observation.

When the president and others object to the current tax system on the grounds that many citizens do not pay "their fair share," they are objecting, among other things, not just to the rate at which certain citizens pay taxes (that the rate is too low) but also to the level of income on which taxes are paid (that the level is too high).  It is both the tax rate and income level, taken together and with a view to a certain social end, that is viewed as unfair.

To say the same thing slightly differently, the issue in question is both the progressivity of the tax system and the spread between income levels.  The wide spread between income levels now versus thirty years ago -- that is, the difference in earned income between the top and bottom quintiles -- may in fact be what prompts the outcry for greater progressivity in taxation than prevails at present.  (This income discrepancy, by the way, is not a uniquely American phenomenon.)  

I suspect that if the spread were narrower, then demands for greater tax fairness might be more muted.  If some people did not make so much more money than others, then the issue might not seem in certain quarters to be so problematic.

This is important to note.  It is a sense of unfairness about the spread between income levels that is effectively prior to -- and therefore it is this that motivates -- the sense of unfairness about the spread between average tax rates and share of income taxes paid.  The widening income gap seems to some to be wrong (unfair); so current taxes paid on the high levels of income also seem to be wrong (unfair).  At issue, in other words, is the understanding of fairness itself.

Mr. Fleischer himself seems to recognize this, which is why he begins the op-ed in the way that he does, namely, by proposing one understanding of fairness:  that "the amount you pay is based on the amount you make."  This is fairness as equity.

His construction helps him to make his case, since he presents his data in light of that construction.  He spotlights disparities in taxation relative to earnings.  He, too, identifies unfairness; however, it seems to him to be "unfair" to those who have higher incomes.  It is not unfair because they have higher incomes.

When viewed thusly, Mr. Fleischer's objection may not be to progressivity itself but to the degree of progressivity:  that discrepancy in taxation is out of proportion to the discrepancy in income earned; it is too progressive; this spread is too wide.  It is not equitable.  The increase in the amount of taxes paid is greater than the increase in the amount of the nation's income earned.  (See the nearby table.)
 

But others will object that "fairness" is not really or ultimately to be conceived in terms of the amount of tax that one pays compared to the amount that one earns.  If it is, Mr. Fleischer will probably win the argument on that assumption along the lines of his op-ed.  According to his detractors, however, fairness is not a matter of proportionality in Mr. Fleischer's sense, whether proportionality of contributions or proportionality according to merit.  The driving sense of fairness on their view is not one of fairness as equity, but fairness as equality.

On this view, fairness is that system which leads to more equal social outcomes regardless of contributions or merit.  (In some versions it may perhaps be fairness precisely in contradistinction to them.)  It is fair to tax people differently, often very differently, if it is done with the goal of making more equal the primary goods of income and wealth (often through federal programs) across society but especially among those defined as the least advantaged.

This view, as I have articulated it, echoes that advanced by John Rawls, justice as fairness, a theory in which what he calls the "difference principle" operates:  "the difference principle requires that however great the inequalities in wealth and income may be, and however willing people are to work to earn their greater shares of output, existing inequalities must contribute effectively to the benefit of the least advantaged.  Otherwise, the inequalities are not permissible" (John Rawls:  Justice as Fairness:  A Restatement, 64; see also 122-24).

According to Prof. Rawls, the operative principle is not equity but his own special brand of reciprocity.  (I say that it is special because reciprocity is usually, is ordinarily, an in-kind exchange between two parties, whereas that in view in Prof. Rawls's theory involves unlike transfers among multiple parties.)  A controlling idea, then, in Prof. Rawls's view of justice, which has been in the air that many government officials have breathed for the last forty years since he first proposed it in 1971, has to do with acceptable differences across society as judged by a notion of reciprocity.  And it is this notion of reciprocity that sheds light on one current group's sense of fairness:

To sum up:  the difference principle expresses the idea that, starting from equal division, the more advantaged are not to be better off at any point to the detriment of the less well off.  But since the difference principle applies to the basic structure, a deeper idea of reciprocity implicit in it is that social institutions are not to take advantage of contingencies of native endowment, or of initial social position, or of good or bad luck over the course of life, except in ways that benefit everyone, including the least favored.  This represents a fair undertaking between the citizens seen as free and equal with respect to those inevitable contingencies. (124)

Professor Rawls advances this notion of justice as reciprocity, or fairness, by way of a thought experiment:  what sort of society would representatives behind a veil of ignorance choose to create in a hypothetical original position?  Policymakers advance something akin to this notion of justice as fairness not in an original position but at a different stage; they regulate society that is in its current position with constitutional essentials already settled.  The goal of many current policymakers is, with reciprocity as a guiding light, to make progress toward the ideal through social and economic legislation and through the administration of related rules (see 47-49).

When politicians say that they only want the group with greater monetary wealth to pay its fair share of taxes, they do not refer to the statistics that Mr. Fleischer adduces.  They appeal, instead, to a moral idea that is not dissimilar to that of Prof. Rawls's, even if it is not directly dependent on his teaching.  The moral idea is that such a wide discrepancy in income as exists now between the top 20% of earners and the bottom 20% of earners -- which has widened over the last thirty years -- is permissible if and only if the wealth amassed by the top 20% works to the greatest benefit of those in the bottom 20%.

These politicians believe that such a benefit has not been realized.  Because the more advantaged seem to be better off to the detriment of the least advantaged, it follows for them that unfairness exists and that greater taxation is a justified means of producing fairness.  And fairness is what would be to the greatest benefit of the least well-off.  Increased taxation -- which is a form of coercive state power -- on one group of society is a justified means of producing "fair undertakings," or just plain fairness, for the rest or whole of society.  Hence, "fair share" on this view is the share that secures a fair distribution of monetary goods across society.

The debate about taxation, precisely because it is tethered to the ongoing debate about the best American political scheme for the future, is not going away soon.  It is therefore critically important to make explicit the assumptions about what is fair that are often unarticulated but that are nevertheless powerfully at work in people's thinking and speaking.  Taxation is a material manifestation of a more formal matter:  competing conceptions of fairness.

Until and unless we engage each other candidly at the formal level, inquiring sincerely about a person's view of fairness and pressing respectfully why that person believes in this sense of fairness and not another, we will be fruitlessly volleying material arguments back and forth.

Turkle: "The Flight From Conversation"

The Sunday, April 22, opinion contribution in The New York Times by Sherry Turkle, "The Flight From Conversation," largely reproduces in writing main themes from her February TED talk, which I noted and provided a link to in a prior post.

(Recent, related posts are found here and here.)

Noonan: "America's Crisis of Character"

It has been a busy week for me, so, yes, here's a link to a column rather than a long reflection on virtue and character.  Peggy's Noonan's opinion piece in today's Wall Street Journal, "America's Crisis of Character," does not offer much in the way of prescriptions, but she is very astute at diagnosing -- assuming she is right -- a very large problem.

I've long thought that public dissatisfaction is about more than the economy, that it's also about our culture, or rather the flat, brute, highly sexualized thing we call our culture.

Now I'd go a step beyond that. I think more and more people are worried about the American character—who we are and what kind of adults we are raising.

Every story that has broken through the past few weeks has been about who we are as a people. And they are all disturbing.

Diagnosis may be the first step of treatment.  For now, it will have to do.

Turkle: "Connected, but alone?"

In private correspondence, a good friend pointed me to the recent TED talk by Sherry Turkle, "Connected, but alone?", which also dovetails with my recent post "Free Your Mind."   The MIT professor's thesis:  "Our little devices, those little devices in our pockets, are so psychologically powerful that they don't only change what we do; they change who we are" (at 2:36 minutes).

Ubiquitous and incessant texting, for example, creates the "illusion of companionship without the demands of friendship."  And "you can end up hiding from each other even as we are all constantly connected to each other" (at 5:02 ).  Why?  Because, as she explains more fully, "technology appeals to us most where we are most vulnerable. ... we're lonely but we are afraid of intimacy.  And so from social networks to social robots, we're designing technologies that will give us the illusion of companionship without the demands of friendship" (at 12:13 ).

Real relationships, including the art of personal conversation and self-reflection, are suffering:  "Human relationships are rich, and they're messy, and they're demanding.  And we clean them up with technology. ... we sacrifice conversation for mere connection" (at 7:10).  (A similar, if differently articulated, observation is made by Jonathan Franzen in his essay/address "Liking Is for Cowards. Go for What Hurts.")  Constant use of technology is, to restate Turkle's thesis, altering humanity, our self-conception of it, and ourselves (and our duties) as relational beings within it.  It is, in this sense, reshaping not just what we do as humans but who we are as humans, both individually and in community.

Ms. Turkle's most recent book, Alone Together:  Why We Expect More From Technology and Less From Each Other, explores related ideas in more detail than her TED talk.  The book is  reviewed in The New York Times, and she was interviewed, among many appearances, on "The Colbert Report."  Her 20-minute TED talk, which includes some practical suggestions for navigating the technological/relational minefield, is embedded below.  And yes; it is okay to watch this engaging digital media video about the relational dangers of digital technology -- just not in board meetings, during family breakfast, or at a funeral.

Brann on studying the West

Eva Brann is not to be confused with Eva Braun. The latter, of course, was Adolf Hitler's companion. The former is the longest-serving tutor of St. John's College (Annapolis), where she has taught the school's great books curriculum since 1957. In this article, "The Great Tradition," she essays to answer the question: Why study the West?

Among the many points that Ms. Brann makes on the benefits of thoroughly studying the Western tradition, one is about intellectual, cultural, and personal empathy for others: "being rooted in one’s own [tradition] is practically a predicate for appreciating the ways of others as other, that is, of confronting these ways not in melding surrender, but in observant receptivity."

Professor Brann's prose does not always make for the easiest of reading, but it is candid. She eschews the common ways in which the value of a course of study is, these days, measured by its presumed utility. (Often it is the utility of future earnings power.) "Why must education be a means only instead of an end in itself?" she in effect asks. A fair question. But the importance of her point about empathy should not be missed.

It strikes me that in affirming liberal education as primarily an end in itself Ms. Brann actually spotlights it as perhaps a truly great means: liberal education in the Western tradition is, when pursued as its own end, a means to the virtuous goal of informed, civil, reflective, and reasoned understanding of those who differ from us. Such informed and patient empathy is currently in short supply.

If liberal education of the sort that Ms. Brann advocates as a goal itself also results in more and better practitioners of empathy, and if this is a prized value of our contemporary society, then why is this course of study in decline in American universities? If this sort of education, as the term itself suggests, "leads people out" of themselves into humane, heady, and heartfelt intercourse with others, then maybe promoting university curriculum in the Western tradition deserves to be reconsidered -- and, well, the study actually pursued.