Tag Archives: high ethos

red bar graphic

Eroding Norms Require a Revival of Timeless Ideas

It used to be harder to fake competence; now its easier.

In a recent column, the New York Times’ Frank Bruni recounted an article from a historian of education who mentioned a recent Columbia University graduate who shamelessly boasted about his ability to skate through his years mostly using A.I. The original conversation was recalled by James Walsh and mentioned in an article entitled, “Everyone Is Cheating Their Way Through College.” At the same time another higher education expert told Bruni that “in the minds of our students, [college] has become highly instrumental and transactional.”  When Walsh asked the student why he bothered with the Ivy League “only to offload all of the learning to a robot,” he answered that Columbia was an optimal place to meet the co-founder of a start-up and find a wife.

Obviously, as a representation of some students in higher education, this is disheartening. Are our best institutions producing graduates with a moral sensitivity that is as low as our President’s? Shouldn’t they know that the capability to copy and paste someone else’s thoughts is a long way from owning those ideas and being able to act on them?

Useful knowledge is precious. It can become part of the “equipment for living” that thinkers promise for any language of action. But lifting ideas from others is not the same as owning them. For example, I could take most A.I. descriptions of the key term “credibility” and sound like I know what I’m talking about. An A.I. definition at least superficially signals knowledge and awareness, but does not necessarily indicate real mental processes that give the idea life. Hence the definition that it “refers to the quality or characteristic of being trusted and believed”  is a harmless statement, but is not the same thing as the rigorous mental work of testing and detailed cross-referencing to understand a source’s credibility. In short, using A.I. descriptions is not the same as acting on its specific processes.

Imagine another case. I might make a guess that Canada is ripping off the U.S. in some sort of trade arrangement, but I can’t truly accept that claim if it has come from a source that has labored under the view that this is also true of every other nation. This is the unmoored thinking of Donald Trump.  As our defacto Minister of Slights, his faith in tariffs comes with a long held-bias that every nation is suspect and probably a worthy target of retribution. Those psychological motives are surely real, but beyond actual circumstances on the ground that could be assessed by a fair-minded expert. Thus, “credibility” is the result of considered judgment and knowledge, not something that just comes, a-priori, from a twisted set of norms.

black bar

Full and complete competence has to be earned, but seems to be more easily elluded if an A.I. substitute can be passed off as one’s own cognitive work. 

What is intriguing about all of this is that it represents the nature of high competence that classical thinkers sought to understand.  Their preferred words like “wisdom,” “aréte,” (excellence), or high “quality.” In Aristotelian and Platonic ideals, a person of evident “virtue” was worthy of belief. There should be no false front in the presentation of one’s own character. There should be no unearned pretensions. In plain language, an expert is worthy of attention when the “high ethos” of their character aligns with real knowledge and ethical intentions.

All of these indicators of “excellence” are what motivated Robert Pirsig in his well-known quest laid out in Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (1974). In the guise of a memoir of travel across the West he drifts into an interior monologue that keeps showing up. He compulsively revisits moments when his study of classical thought left him troubled by the lack of practical wisdom in the people he encountered. Consider his description of two uninvolved and distracted mechanics who were asked to diagnose a problem with his old motorcycle.

The shop was a different scene from the ones I remembered. The mechanics, who had once all seemed like ancient veterans, now looked like children. A radio was going full blast, and they were clowning around and talking and seemed not to notice me. When one of them finally came over he barely listened to the piston slap before saying, “Oh yeah. Tappets.”

Pirsig eventually paid a $140.00 repair bill for services that failed to remedy the engine problem. He later discovered that the noisy piston was caused by a damaged twenty-five cent pin accidentally sheared off by another careless mechanic. “Why,” he wondered, “did they butcher it so?” What evidence did they provide that indicated they were less than fully competent mechanics?

The radio was the clue. You can’t really think hard about what you’re doing and listen to the radio at the same time. Maybe they didn’t see their job as having anything to do with hard thought, just wrench twiddling. If you can twiddle wrenches while listening to the radio that’s more enjoyable.

Their speed was another clue. They were really slopping things around in a hurry and not looking where they slopped them. More money that way. . . .

But the biggest clue seemed to be their expressions. They were hard to explain. Good-natured, friendly, easygoing—and uninvolved. They were like spectators. You had the feeling they had just wandered in there themselves and somebody had handed them a wrench. There is no identification with the job. No saying, “I am a mechanic.” At 5 PM or whenever their eight hours were in, you knew they would cut it off and not have another thought about their work. They were already trying not to have any thoughts about their work on the job.

The book does not have much more to say about motorcycles, but it is full of the thoughts of a man on a quest to understand what “quality” and “aréte” can mean when applied to our own lives. I’m afraid he would be troubled by the intimations of excellence represented by the clueless student who thought he pulled off a perfect deception. The student may have deceived Columbia, but soon enough the rest of us must deal with more like him who have credentials but not competance.

red concave bar 1

The Eclipse of Character

Character measured by known virtues like honesty and doing good works was a huge concern for classical thinkers. Why do we now find the carnival barkers in our midst more worthy of our time? 

It seems like a paradox that, amidst sufficient information to draw conclusions about the quality of a public person’s character, vast segments of the American public are unable or unwilling to notice disqualifying flaws. To be sure, humans can be taken in by scoundrels in any era. From Professor Harold Hill to Bernard Madoff, the charlatan  “on the make” is a distinct American type. Among many others, historian Daniel Boorstin was especially vivid in chronicling American hustlers with a  gift for self-promotion but a tenuous grasp on the Truth. Even when serious flaws of character become known, many of us have an incapacity to see them. Indifference also seems to be the norm, even when we will pay a deep price for believing fraudulent claims. It was so for citizens of New York’s 3d congressional district, who trusted George Santos . Years ago folks in Wisconsin fell for the the same kind of destructive character in the person of Senator Joe McCarthy. And it many be worse now; Congress has an entire “chaos caucus” of loquacious but slow thinkers.

What thoughts are reflected in those enthusiastic faces we see planted behind felonious candidates at their political rallies? Why do persons with the cultural tools to sense the mendacity of others still fail to act react appropriately? Clearly many of the nation’s collective woes are due to widespread indifference to signs indicating that a person should not be trusted to lead.

short black line

There is a useful thought-experiment here to puzzle out why traditional virtues of character have withered in the public sphere.

Our public reasoning has become inverted. Incredibly, every new formal accusation brought against former President Trump has produced a new levels of support, as if we were talking about parking tickets rather than civil convictions for a sexual assault and tax fraud. The ostensible ‘bad news’ that in more sober times would have disqualified a leader now seems to boomerang. It is not just the shabby spews of ad hominem attacks from Trump that have given our public life an Alice in Wonderland aspect. We can find similar lapses of judgment in other leaders in business and the arts.

The word itself now seems like an antique, but virtue actually has a long history in the classical world representing the general idea of a good person.

                             Aristotle

Giants in western philosophy such as Aristotle (b. 384 B.C.) and Cicero (b. 106 B.C.) have explored the subjects of the virtuous and the good. They are mentioned here because—among their many interests—both were rhetoricians interested in how audiences react in the presence of those who would influence them. For Aristotle, a good person had high ethos, meaning a person was known for virtues that included prudence, sense of justice, temperance, and courage. Their known strengths preceded them. Persons known to be burdened with the baggage of low credibility (meaning an indifference to the Truth, or ways to test it) were seen as lacking high ethos. Having the virtue of good character is reflected in Aristotle’s famous dictum that “character may almost be called the most effective means of persuasion.”

Cicero noted much the same regarding basic morality, arguing that virtue was “the habit of the mind which makes us consistent in doing good.” If this seems too wooly, think of the doctrines in most faith traditions that require engaging in acts of service to others. Or consider the exemplary lives of Americans such as Martin Luther King, Madeleine Albright or Fred Rogers.

Aristotle’s ethical standards for an able advocate included the capacity for reasoning accurately, awareness of what is appropriate to a situation, and the mastery of language. Add Cicero’s recommendations that people worthy of our support cultivate goodwill, kindness, and benevolence. These ideas aren’t alien to us, but we seem lost in the maw of popular media that can distract us from sorting the honorable from the self-promoters.

There’s another an important twist here. In our era we tend to plant false flags that affirm loyalty to certain individuals, mistaking an act of continuous devotion as its own kind of moral absolute.  Interestingly, both philosophers centered their discussions of communication ethics on the agent. Neither had much to say about loyalty as a core virtue: a revealing fact, given the high status we now give to a person who is—not infrequently—totally devoted to an ethically flawed person. Many seem to have developed a withered form of ethics based on a fixed allegiance. What remains is more transactional, and based more on the personal rewards of a settled mind set. Put another way, we make fewer demands that others be “virtuous,” settling instead on their believability. In this realm, public figures with social capital matter more rather than those with integrity. Indeed, a person’s notoriety may be their chief asset in dominating a cultural space.

Perhaps we no longer want to be put to the test of thoughtfully assessing a person’s character. Our awareness of others outside our immediate circle is often nominal and impressionistic. If Aristotle thought the high ethos of a person was set prior to their appearance, we  tend to construct our truncated version of it on the spot. Vetting by using the standards of logic and evidence requires more effort than we are willing to give.

black bar

cropped Revised square logo