Augustine Hickey, "To Train for the Formation of Good Habits" (1916)

[277] The subject assigned for this discussion promises nothing new nor anything hitherto undiscovered in the field of educational endeavor. Nevertheless, a brief consideration of habit formation is opportune and helpful. It should lead to reflection and should stimulate to conscientious effort toward the attainment of the natural and necessary consequence of effective teaching. Children well taught have formed good habits. Their energies and activities have been intelligently directed; their ability to do things well is the pride of the teachers and the glory of the system responsible for this admirable condition. All successful teachers have realized the crowning satisfaction of their work. They have seen graduates go forth from school trained to earnest industry and application, devoted to study, accurate in their acquired knowledge, and eager to approach those ideals of virtue which the teacher held out before them. these graduates have passed from the school's influence bearing splendid proof of the excellent quality of its educational aims and methods.

Because habit formation stands in direct and intimate relationship to good teaching, the evident lack of necessary habits in the individual is a serious reflection on the character of his early training. Unfortunately indeed, the school's chief purposes are not always attained. Success does not follow on every effort. The acknowledgment of failure is the first step in the study of its more obvious causes.

[278] Two boys graduate from the same school, having advanced together through the entire course of instruction and discipline. After twenty years one has become a captain of industry, the other is enrolled among disciples of ease. Ability and opportunity alone do not explain this success and this failure. Their associates have discovered more subtle differences. The man who has prospered is thoroughly honest, reliable, industrious, accurate, a clear thinker, strong and purposeful in his methods. The other, with the same preliminary training, possesses few of these desirable qualities and accomplishes little or nothing.

Why this strange but marked contrast? It is clear at first sight that one man is strong and masterful in the use of his natural ability, while the other is a waster of his gifts of mind and will. Can we attempt to fix responsibility? It is but fair to divide it. The individual must carry his own share. Yet honesty, industry, power of observation, mental accuracy and determination, are the normal results of careful and intelligent training of mind and will. And it is precisely the function and the duty of the teacher and the school to increase the power and capacity of the individual by developing in the faculties those qualities which make for strength and efficiency.

Call education what you will, it is infinitely more than the bare imparting of knowledge and the crowding and cramming of a receptive memory. Education aims to develop and strengthen all the faculties. This development and strength is secured only by the well-directed use and exercise, which in the very nature of man leads to the formation of good intellectual and moral habits.

Habit can be described as an aptitude and facility for doing certain things in a certain way. This aptitude is acquired and becomes a controlling factor in life through the exercise of the natural human tendency to repeat acts of body, mind, and will. Each individual feels this inclination in varying degrees and is forced to recognize in it the source of his permanent qualities and characteristics. Each human act leaves its impression on the mind and will. Each movement made carries with it a disposition to repeat that movement. Physiologists say "the organism tends to the mode in which it is exercised." Psychologists affirm "that the mind in the presence of an object tends to recall [279] other objects associated at one time or another with the object in view. This association of ideas tends to recur in the original manner and order of presentation."

Personal experience offers ample proof of the truth of these principles and urges the necessity of attention and study of this most significant fact. For what comes of this tendency? The process is simple and evident. Each repeated act strengthens the inclination to reproduce that act and continued repetition inevitably results in an established and definite course of action. This is habit—the quality which increases the power of the faculties, for it lessens materially the need of conscious effort in action. What is said and done frequently is said and done easily in a spontaneous and automatic manner. The capacity of bringing actions under the influence of habit is a great blessing of Divine Providence. It is for this precise reason that the commonplace activities of life require the expenditure of little energy because they are simplified and well ordered through frequent recurrence. Without the assistance of habit, man could make but little progress, for his entire interest and attention would be absorbed in the trivial duties of the hour, and he would have neither time nor strength for further achievement. The habit capacity is a great source of power to the individual. It is to the mind and will what muscle is to the human body. It develops readily and rapidly by use and exercise until it becomes a dominating force manifesting itself in every phase of human activity.

The proper development of the habit capacity in the child should become the center of interest of the successful tteacher [sic]. Since no task is ever intelligently undertaken without some compelling motive, the teacher in the classroom must realize clearly the necessity and importance of this special work. The children seated before her are there to be trained. The results of this required training are best measured in the number and kind of desirable aptitudes and capacities developed in the mind and will. Good aptitudes are good habits. They constitute abiding standards by which to gauge the effectiveness of the teaching and training in one particular school or in a great educational system.

In the formation of habit, attentive repetition is the one substantial [280] means to the desired end. Repetition unenlivened by interest and attention is of absolutely no value in the process. Much of the drill work in the grades is a step backward for this reason. The children are neither interested in the task nor attentive to the details, and carelessness and indifference inevitably result. During the attentive repetition of the act, the teacher is quick to note exceptions and to correct them at once. No mistake is allowed to escape unnoticed. By this means accurate repetition is secured and the single acts are being organized in the proper manner. Interest and attention are constantly sustained by worthy incentives and clever teaching devices. The need and value of skill, the duty of the child to cooperate, the brilliant prospect of success, are general motives to be constantly applied. Position in class, marks and prizes, are school inducements always available and helpful to keeping pupils interested and attentive.

The teacher must remember that while kindness and sympathy are most attractive qualities, she must be strong and insistent in forming habits. Too often weeks and weeks of repetition and practice are wasted when a little additional perseverance would have accomplished wonders. Habits are not acquired in a day. In fact, no general rule can be established as to the amount of time and repetition required. The nature of the action, the temperament of the individual, are helps or hindrances in the work. Yet with the great majority of pupils, unswerving fidelity to attentive repetition will develop the capacity to do a certain thing with the maximum of correctness and the minimum of effort.

Many subjects of the elementary school curriculum offer abundant material for habit formation. In writing, spelling, arithmetic, reading, there are numerous unchanging elements over which the child must acquire that skill which comes only from habit. In presenting these lessons, the teacher need only apply with spirit and perseverance the rules and methods laid down for habit formation. But the responsibility of the school and the teacher cannot end here. Skill in writing, spelling, and arithmetic, does not represent the highest purpose of educational work. There are certain general qualities of mind and heart which the elementary school should develop and strengthen. [281] Educators differ and dispute over questions of curriculum, method and problems of administration, but all agree that true education should lead to the development of certain definite and permanent intellectual and moral habits. Can these desirable habits be easily enumerated? The list is indeed long, for it should include all the qualities required in the making of a perfect man. Nevertheless, it is not difficult to select and emphasize one habit or another which the school as a unit should set itself to form in all the pupils. If each member of the teaching staff realized a particular need common to all the children of the school, and used every opportunity and lesson to insist on the development of this special quality, the results after seven or eight years would be truly astonishing. Cooperation in purpose and action is the secret of success. When the school selects a definite aim and purpose and every teacher works diligently in that direction, then some results must surely be achieved. How shall the school make a selection? The choice rests on a very positive basis. What habits do our children really need? Where are they weak? Where must they be made strong? In reply to these queries, let it be clearly stated that the Catholic school is advancing nearer to its highest purposes in proportion as it develops in children a love of knowledge, the power to think clearly and accurately, and an abiding devotion to the interests of God and His holy Church.

The sum total of knowledge retained is not the surest standard by which to measure educational results. This statement may seem strange in view of present-day tendencies to increase indefinitely the number of subjects taught in elementary schools. Every year, additional requirements are added to the curriculum with apparently little attention to the retentive capacity of the young mind. Yet thinking men lament the fact that our typical American is neither student, book lover, or seeker after knowledge. He is satisfied with a most superficial acquaintance with things and can arrive at a conclusion from very meager premises. Does not this fact sadly reflect the quality of training given in the school? Does it not seem that teachers are presenting mere facts of knowledge rather than developing a love of knowledge for its own sake? In some respects this condition is hard [282] to explain. The book is the storehouse of knowledge, and children are surrounded by a multitude of books. But there seems to be a positive defect in the way these books are used. Children are not trained to realize the value of a good book, and to enjoy the study of the inspiring and beautiful truths it contains. Too often perhaps, the book is in some measure to blame. The school must carefully select interesting and helpful material and supply it in abundance. The reading lesson should never become a mere mechanical exercise, but a delightful period spent in the pleasant and gratifying work of learning of people, places, and things. Children should be encouraged to read at home and to describe what they have read. Industry in this particular should always be rewarded in a special manner. If a love of good reading were carefully cultivated in every classroom, then surely a most necessary and much needed habit would be formed in the children who enjoy the priceless advantage of united efforts to that purpose. One teacher for one year may succeed to a certain extent, but enduring results will be obtained only by the active cooperation of all the teachers who have, at any time, a part in the training of the child. To form the habit of reading, to instill a love of knowledge, is to develop a capacity which will be a strong safeguard in difficulty and a source of supreme pleasure and satisfaction in after years. 

To make the love of knowledge effective, children must be trained to think clearly. Hazy, indefinite ideas are a positive hindrance in every enterprise. In teaching even the youngest children, no word should pass unexplained, no rule half understood. The pupils should be encouraged to look for the reasons behind the process and never to be content until they have grasped them. Rote recitation and memory lessons of rules and definitions not comprehended, make the pupil imagine that the has ideas, when as a matter of fact, he knows only words. A sure proof of clear thinking is clear expression. Teachers can apply this test frequently and by it measure correctly their progress in developing the power to think clearly.

Accuracy in word and action is intimately associated with the power to think clearly. If a man is never satisfied until the idea in his mind is distinct and plain, then he is easily accurate in his [283] speech and his manner of action. Yet on all sides carelessness and slovenliness in pronunciation and articulation, spelling, and mathematical calculation are causing daily annoyances and often-time, serious consequences. In the commercial life it is the man who is noted for accuracy who wins respect and advancement. It is not easy task to make all children accurate. Since they need the habit, let the school spare no effort to develop it. If a graduate goes forth from a Catholic school a clear and accurate thinker, anxious to learn, he has received a splendid preparation for the duties, responsibilities and problems of life.

The Catholic school has far more solemn and serious obligations than these. The purpose of the religious school is to develop habits of thought and action which will make the practice of religion a second nature to man. Our schools are expected to train pupils to an ardent love of religion and to a whole-hearted service to God. Each prayer in school, each lesson in religion, each hymn, each visit to the church, must become a well-forged link in the golden chain which is to keep creature and Creator in closest union all through life. In this connection, let it be remembered that mere repetition does not suffice. Interest and attention in daily religious practices is the element needed to weld them into habit. Surely Catholic education has done this service, for the flourishing condition of religion in places where schools exist is convincing proof of abundant success in this particular. May Catholic schools continue to train to these essential religious habits of mind, heart, and will, and may the crowning glory of the cause always be the ever-increasing number of loyal graduates eager and ready to think and act in strict accordance with teachings of the Church of Christ on earth.

The great general advantage of all training in habit formation is the personal advantage to the individual child. In forming good habits, he is developing himself. For habits of all varieties are acquired by a countless number of acts of the free will. Each voluntary effort of the will increases the power of the mainspring of human action. The making of good habits is the making of the strong determined will. It is the will that makes character and character makes the man. The making of men is the task of the Catholic educator. The more he studies his [284] opportunities and problems, the heavier does responsibility weigh down upon him. But this very responsibility brings its own consolations. In every effort to form a good habit, to strengthen the will, and to build character, the Catholic teacher receives all possible inspiration from the wonderful promise of Holy Writ, "Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it."

DISCUSSION

Brother E. Felix, F. S. C., Rock Hill College, Maryland: To the mind of the thoughtful teacher, the problem of habit must ever be one of great importance and one demanding much attention and serious study. Whether it be considered from a standpoint of physiology or one of pure psychology, we cannot fail to recognize that habit is a vital factor of great moment in developing and shaping the character of the growing child. Indeed, some authors go so far as to say that education is merely a bundle of habits. We may not be willing to endorse this statement on its face value, but we cannot deny that there is much truth in the assertion.

This morning we have listened with much attention to the discourse prepared by Father Hickey on this topic, in which he has given us some general notions on habit formation, together with practical consequences which flow therefrom. On an occasion like this we do not expect to hear a complete scientific exposition of all the elements that enter into the intricacies of habit-building, nor a long array of statistics and other details which have been prepared by specialists in experimental psychology. These are very useful, and will be studied with much profit by teachers in their research work. But for our present purpose it will be sufficient to confine our attention to one or two salient features of Father Hickey's paper which have an immediate bearing on our work as educators.

The first, and most obvious fact in connection with habit formation, and really its one underlying principle is, that habits are formed and retained only by countless repetitions of the acts to which we wish to become habituated. This is a matter of daily experience. Notice the wonderful dexterity, precision, and almost mechanical accuracy with which your graduate at the piano executes very difficult compositions. What is all this, if not the expression of a well-formed, complex habit? Making all due allowances for talent and natural aptitude, must we not ascribe this remarkable coordination of movements, this correlation of the faculties of mind and body to careful, painstaking, constant, remorseless practice,—day after day, week after week, for months and years? It is said that great masters, such as Liszt, Spohr, Paderewski, [285] practised [sic] as long as ten hours a day. Accept whatever theories you will, to explain the mental and physical phenomena involved in the process,—theories biological, neurological, psychological,—for us this fact remains evident: keeping everlastingly at it brings about the desired result. If this maxim be accepted as the keynote of all habit formation, the following laws are deduced as a natural sequence:

(a) An action, or series of actions, to become habitual, must be practiced faithfully and unremittingly, at regular intervals, until it becomes almost automatic. As Father Hickey observes, the time required for the acquisition of a useful habit depends largely upon the temperament and natural dispositions of the subject. But as far as their pupils are concerned, teachers must insist on continuous practice up to the very last day of the child's school term. An observation made by the Reverend writer of the paper calls for special notice here. He reminds us that, as in all other educational work, cooperation among the teachers of a school on a determinate course of action and the number and quality of habits to be inculcated, is essential. This is quite true. It would be of little use for a child to be habituated by one teacher to walk and stand erect, to keep his desk neat and in order, to dress himself with care and attention, if the next teacher would allow the child to fall into careless and slovenly ways. The same may be said of punctuality, personal cleanliness, sincerity, and all other habits that constitute the training of a well-bred Christian child.

The second law of habit formation follows as a necessary corollary to the first: (b) We must allow no opportunity of cultivating a desirable habit to pass by without profiting by it. To insure this, all the tact, prudence and skill of a resourceful teacher must be brought into action; advantage  must be taken of every occasion of practicing a useful habit, and every step that would hinder its progress must be checked. An example: You wish to cultivate the habit of correction English expression in your pupils; a very desirable habit, indeed. To be logical, systematic and, incidentally, to be successful, you should correct every ungrammatical expression that comes to your notice; not only in the recitations of your scholars, but in their conversation and written work as well; in short, whenever and wherever correction can suitably and profitably be given. I do not wish to anticipate the author of the paper which is to follow, but let me state, in passing, that we have here a clear illustration of the advantages of habitual practice, when compared with merely theoretical instruction. You may strain every effort to explain the principles of English composition, and have the children able to recite verbatim the rules of syntax with their numerous following of exceptions; but what boots it all if their actual use (or abuse) of the mother-tongue, in their daily intercourse, is at variance with the lessons they memorized so faithfully? Not until the use of good English is a habit, not until it becomes part and parcel of their ordinary language can they truly be [286] said to have learned it well. Teachers of the primary grades may think it futile to correct a child's grammatical mistakes on the ground that he is not yet able to understand the reasons for the correction. This would be a grave error. The faulty habits which the child would thus acquire would grow with him, and it would be all the more difficult to eradicate them in later  years. All this demands attention and persevering effort, but it is the sine qua non of success.

But where shall we find the incentive, where the necessary motive power to sustain the continuous effort which is so essential to habit formation? Of what use will it be to me merely to know that I must practice, in season and out of season, in order to learn penmanship, arithmetic, phonography, typewriting, or any other useful art to any degree of proficiency, unless I can bring myself to put this knowledge into a practical form? To do this requires a strong, energetic, determined will; not a half-hearted, impulsive, vacillating will, that attempts to do wonders by fits and starts, but one that is based on a clear conviction of the necessity or utility of the end to be attained, and fortified by an ambition to accomplish that end. This is all the more true in the case of good habits, with which we are chiefly concerned this morning. Habits of ease, of indulgence, of listlessness, will make their appearance as spontaneously as do weeds in a garden; but he who would uproot these noxious growths and replace them by the hardier plants of virtue, must apply himself to the task with a diligence that is proof against difficulties, and an energy that cannot be thwarted by temporary reverses.

But should we expect to find such a well-developed will power in a child? This is the critical point of the whole subject under discussion; and, in carefully considering it, the teacher will find how closely the question of habit formation is bound up with the professional duties of his state. Among the many children under his care he will find wills of various degrees of development. It is one of his principal obligations to perfect these wills as far as this lies in his power. It is in the cultivation of the will that the Catholic teacher differentiates himself from the mere instructor and pedagogue. it is his special mission, and at the same time, his privilege and his glory, to train not only the intellect to see the beauty and attractiveness of virtue, but also the heart and the will to love and to practice it. For virtue, be it remembered, is not constituted of an occasional good act, but it is essentially the habit of doing good. Now, if oft repeated acts lead to habits, good habits, in turn, make for character. And this, in substance, is the object of the lifework of the Catholic educator: to broaden the mind, to mould [sic] the heart and to cultivate the will of his disciples, and thereby lay deep and broad and strong the foundations of the sterling character of truly Christian ladies and gentlemen.

Rev. P. J. McCormick, Ph. D., Catholic University, Washington, D. C.: I think that the various habits which we desire the school to form in [287] children have been very well enumerated by Father Hickey and Brother Felix. Both speakers have also indicated the importance of the subject of habit-formation from the viewpoint of training—educative training. They have shown that it is the chief work of the school, and no doubt we agree with them. Another phase of the subject might be here suggested for the purposes of discussion, and this refers more particularly to the manner or method of habit-formation.

For purposes of convenience we may divide habits into intellectual, moral and physical. The school purposes to form the child in all; little, however, is done for his physical formation. Unfortunately, the program does not provide for that very important division of habits. We are chiefly engaged, as a matter of fact, with intellectual and moral. We may further say that the intellectual habits are comprehended quite well by the term "habits of study," and the moral habits by the term "habits of conduct."

Assuming that this is the duty of every teacher to form such habits in their children, my point is that special care should be taken to form them early. It devolves upon the primary teachers as a peculiar task to form correct habits of study and conduct in the child from the beginning of his school career. Formation is better, more economical of energy, and safer as a process than reformation. The right habit should go before and if possible prevent the wrong taking root or becoming secure. Early formation, then, and correct formation should be the effort in a special sense of the first teachers of the children.

The school should attempt to form habits of study from the time the child takes up his first tasks. The teacher's office is to see that the right conditions are present for this formation. He should see, for example, that interest is present. No child can study without it, or without the problem or the question it assumes to be present. The center of interest, we know, is always a problem of some kind. The child must be looking for something, must have a difficulty or a question to concern him, and it is the teacher's work to see that he has. Merely assigning a lesson to study is not enough. The teacher must make the proper introduction for it, arouse the child's curiosity, stimulate his imagination, or in some way prepare his apperceiving powers for the new matter. This means that study has to be supervised, directed, and controlled by the teacher, if the act is to be correct, and if eventually the right habit is to be acquired.

Similarly is the process pursued on the moral side. In our Catholic schools we have the best moral doctrine and the best moral practices to use in our work of habit-formation. In moral matters it is the motive that counts, and I think that the peculiar work of the teacher here is to see that the child acts from the right motives. He should know why, for example, he is obedient, or faithful in his duties, why he is charitable or unselfish, in order that his motives will be built up, so to speak, into those principles of conduct which are at the base of character-formation and conduce to right living.

I would then repeat that in my belief the all-important task of the teacher is to see that habits are formed early on the intellectual and moral side, and that these habits are correct.

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Source: Rev. Augustine F. Hickey, "To Train for the Formation of Good Habits—A Real Problem in School Management," Catholic Educational Association Bulletin 13, no. 1 (Nov. 1916): 277–288.

Joseph Wehrle, "Education for Character Formation" (1921)

[198] In addressing myself to a consideration of the question proposed for discussion, character formation, which at the present day is exciting so much interest, eliciting so much discussion and on which in these meetings so many and such excellent papers have been read, it may not be amiss to preface that this paper makes no pretensions to a thorough and exhaustive treatment of the subject; it is as limited by time allotment as the subject is broad in phases of treatment. A general view of character formation in Catholic schools in contradistinction to the procedure of the secular system of education was suggested and adopted.

Education connotes efficiency. Character formation is the acid test of efficiency. At the present day there seems to be on the market a surplus of educational methods of forming character which collapse when subjected to the pressure of life's stern realities. Too often the child proudly marches forth from the school with a neatly beribboned certificate tucked under his arm. His talents augur success in life; his certificate guarantees it. The rugged air of outside life, however, soon refutes the one and disproves the other. The claim in attempted explanation is immediately advanced that the training in school was not at fault; it was admirably adapted, it is argued, to the formation of a sterling character. But the failure to measure up to the test of real efficiency belies such claim. The fact remains that there was no real character there.

Character in general is personality viewed in the light of conduct. In a more restricted sense it stands for the assemblage of man's acquired moral qualities grafted into his natural temperament. Both nature and experience cooperate in its production. Nature endows newly created rational life with intellectual and moral qualities, dispositions and tendencies that vary with the [199] individual. This fund of endowments includes susceptibilities for responding to external influences and potentialities for developing in various ways. On the other hand, the part of character that is acquired by experience or nurture is by no means inconsequent. Concomitantly with the advent of reason, personal will and the force of motives enter a contest for mastery and the contention continues without truce until death appears on the hotly contested field and drops the truncheon. "Each solicitation conquered, each impulse to immediate gratification resisted by building habits of self-control, goes to form a strong will and the stronger a man's will grows, the greater the facility with which he can repress transitory impulses, and the more firmly can he adhere to a course once selected in spite of obstacles." The natural qualities, dispositions and tendencies, therefore, disciplined by a strong will, have as a resultant a character that is admirable, worthy of imitation and in general a testimonial to the soundness of the system of training involved in its production. Mere conformance to external observances and conventions of the day, or merit and worth as our present none too good world estimates them, are frequently but erroneously taken for character. Real character as often makes its habitat in those unapproved by the world as it is found wanting in those whom the world apotheosizes. It finds expression in simple conformity to the laws of God and man, in an approach, namely, the nearer the better, to the ideal and perfect character, the God-Man.

The process of formation of a sterling character as far as time and effort are concerned comes under the same rules as the attainment of proficiency in any of the arts and sciences. "Art is long and life is short", the sage of old declared; so also character is the crown of long and tedious application to the formation of habits that become a second nature. In various lines of human endeavor, mastery is obtained only by dint of practice — by going over the subject-matter again and again. No amount of study, however great, is of any avail. Practice and practice alone confers the palm of victory. In history, for instance, study and study alone is the open sesame to its storehouse of facts. The process of formation of a sterling character is a synthesis of [200] both; in its production, the inclusion and importance of study and practice, of storing the mind with an abundance of good, sound principles of action and actually expressing them in conduct, are very marked. The reason lies in the interdependence existing between the will and the intellect. The intellect gives light to see what we are doing and the will strength to do it. The operations of both are essential for the performance of any work; the intellect in its capacity of seeing, knowing and understanding and the will in its capacity of putting forth effort, striving and achieving. "Without will, the intellect would be a vain and useless power of seeing visions and dreams; without intellect, the will would be a blind force struggling in darkness, beating the air." The intellect points out the course of action or duty and the will can brace itself to the task of fulfilling it or it can follow a course of action the very opposite in end and merit or, again it can remain in a dormant or lethargic state, refusing to act at all. Both will and intellect are necessary but the will is the more necessary of the two, for the direction of life's course, shaping of destiny and fashion and mould  [sic] of conduct are determined by it. The basic element, therefore, of character is strength of will; while the soundness and practical nature of the principles stored in the intellect and the assistance and inspiration of God's grace are highly important factors in its formation.

Formation of character, in so far as the intellect is concerned, demands that the guiding principles of life, learned at school and at the mother's knee, be sound and good. A non-Catholic writer says:

"Many parents act upon the principle that it is of no importance what may be the morals or sentiments entertained by a teacher, providing there is no immorality exhibited before the pupils and no attempt to inculcate principles deemed erroneous. But no opinion could be more untrue and practically dangerous. His teachings and his examples will be insensibly influenced by the doctrines he holds, and there will occur a thousand ways in which the pupil will comprehend the view and feelings of the preceptor; and these views will not have the less influence, from the fact that he makes no direct effort to impress them upon the pupils' mind. A direct effort of this kind would put the learner on his guard; but the other plan allays all fear and the poison silently and imperceptibly works."

[201] In many cases parents must answer the indictment of inculcating in their children's minds false principles or of failure to inculcate any at all. The conviction seems to have generally crept in that all responsibility for the mental, moral and even physical development of the child devolves on the school. Education of offspring is the essential, primary object of matrimony and indeed those parents are sadly recusant of their God-imposed duty who sit supinely by and exercise no supervision over their children's training or who, which is still worse, inculcate false principles by the laxity of their lives. If either of these two sources of supply is contaminated or runs dry, all attempts on the part of others at formation of character are in grave danger of proving abortive. Fortunately, the system of training in Catholic schools precludes the possibility of arraignment on the former charge. The principles for which the system stands are the eternal principles of Catholic truth and the teachers are God's own servants. The default of parents in their duty presents an obstacle often insurmountable; regular contact of teachers and parents, however, in many cases proves a very efficacious remedy.

Religion must be the feature of the program. Preparation for life, that is, the formation of a strong sterling character, in view of the existence of God and all it entails, that provides for the temporal prosperity alone of man, that relegates to other spheres the consideration of eternity, that divorces religion from secular advancement, fails by a half, if not entirely. It writes no prescription for the ills consequent on the defection of our first parents; it may have an abhorrence for excesses and enormities of evil but at the most is able to engender in the mind a natural tendency toward rectitude of life, which, however, proves altogether inadequate when the issues involves an eternal supremacy of good or evil; it, in fine, takes no cognizance of God or the laws of God which are interwoven through every branch of knowledge and human endeavor. Preparation worthy of the name occupies itself with the things of time and eternity; it qualifies the individual for the full attainment of the ends of those two perfect societies, Church and State; it provides for all lines of human endeavor but never independently of ethical principles; it prevents the perversion of knowledge to unhallowed [202] and vicious ends by toning it down and permeating it with the love of God and neighbor; it, while bringing out innate virtue and latent powers and moulding them into a form that makes for success in secular pursuits, stamps on the whole the impress of an accountability to be rendered beyond the grave for the proper or improper use of the Master's talents. It, in short, lays down the foundation, provides those good and sound principles of life, which are a conditio sine qua non for the formation of a sterling Christian character.

Quotations from profane authors are helpful but too much importance should not be attached to them. Passages from God's own book, The Imitation of Christ, lives of the saints, etc., have a prior claim to consideration. Nothing can supply their place. St. Ignatius, an adept in the art and science of the spiritual life, strongly recommended the Imitation to his confreres, while his manners, words and actions were fairly a dramatization of it. These books or some of theme were the treasury from which the saints drew their inspiration, and surely their value is none the less great to-day. Also, where in the files of history can we find more admirable and sterling characters than the saints who modeled themselves after Him who was like them in all things, sin excepted? How surprisingly few of the great names of history stand for real character! Many names, synonymous with phenomenal intellectual capacity and achievement or surpassing genius, are inscribed on history's rosters but how many are besmirched by excesses and vices that are as deplorable as foreign to the make-up of real character! The records of models, such as the saints, quicken and perpetuate in youth a spirit of emulation and to-day, more than ever before, the principles that actuated them and adorned their exemplary lives are of great importance in the education of youth. Youth must have ideals; it must have an image in its mind of noble character. Acts and conduct should conform to that image in the same way in which our forefathers in the faith strove to reflect in their lives the life of Christ and thus render themselves worthy of the appellation, Christian, which is Alter Christus.

It is well here to mention that the youthful mind may set up for imitation a model of screen celebrity or notoriety, the fanciful [203] creation of some questionable writer or some other hero by popular vote of the day. The baneful influence of the screen and cheap novel will always be with us and must be counteracted. A love for the reading and studying of good books must be fostered; Catholic books, especially lives of great and good men, must receive their due quota of attention. Finally, the school must enlist the cooperation of the home.

Of primal importance in the formation of character is the practice or art of right living, the art of giving expression to the good and sound principles stored in the intellect. These principles are not imparted merely for themselves; they are not their own reward. The motivating principle of their impartation is conduct. The natural order of things is reversed if such knowledge elicits no practical expression, if it has no bearing on right conduct. The mind may be a veritable thesaurus of sacred and profane lore, but unless this same lore radiates on human actions a positive influence for good, its very existence cannot be justified. Better by far no erudition than that which fails of expression in the all-important drama of life. The desideratum or objective, then, is not merely the impartation of principles, sound and good and with a potentiality for influencing conduct in the right line, but rather their conversion into an actuating force for good. They are not to be restricted to the influence they exert upon the will. The reason of their existence is to superinduce by long uninterrupted practice of virtue upon the soul, habits that characterize the friend of God and heir of heaven.

That such habits might be formed the will must submit to judicious and methodical exercise for nature gives but the disposition for the formation of habits. They are acquired by the repetition of similar acts. Each act placed leaves a determination or inclination for like acts, many of which are required for the formation of a habit. By resisting the passions the powers of the will against the passions are gradually increased and a certain disposition for eliciting similar actions against their allurements is induced. If on the contrary the passions are indulged the powers of the will for resisting them are weakened and the inclination toward the object of the passions waxes stronger. The [204] oftener similar acts are repeated the greater becomes the inclination and facility for placing such acts.

Important in the formation of habits is the constant discipline of school life. The rules and laws laid down for observance, regular and punctual attendance, performance of tasks at home, etc., have a value beyond that of the ends immediately intended. They are excellent disciplinary measures for the will and important steps toward its acquiring power of control over itself. Truly, the pupils might chafe under the restraint they occasion and put forth with reluctance the effort their observance demands, but this is the best proof of their efficacy. Exercises of the will, like all species of training, exact a real effort, and the sooner the realization comes home to the child that life is serious and that all the valuable things of life lie buried in difficulties and are unearthed only by dint of hard, determined, persistent effort, the more rapidly will the development of a strong will advance. It would be a profound mistake to follow the present-day tendency of exacting the least possible effort or application on the part of the pupil. The discard of the difficult and unpleasant in favor of the easy and pleasant is a risky departure from the time-honored procedure of the past and a course that is more of an obstacle than a help toward the development of a strong will. Later life will be fraught with many trials, severe tests of even a sterling character; onerous duties, demanding more than a modicum of strength and perseverance will have to be performed; impediments will be encountered and will have to be removed by unflagging effort. The necessity of a strong, resolute will successfully to cope with life's future problems is patent to all, but transferring the burden of work from the pupil to the teacher is certainly not a means to that end.

The duties, sacrifices and penances that our religion imposes upon us are exercises of paramount importance. The frequentation of the sacraments of penance and Holy Eucharist is the chief and most fruitful exercise. Through it a wholesome, moral atmosphere is created; a high standard of living is maintained and the mighty truths of our holy religion are kept alive in the intellect and find expression in the will. God's grace, won through [205] them, inspires and strengthens the will and aids it to do its work well. Hence it follows that training of the will should be a natural process for Catholics. But the self-restraints involved in and consequent on religious practices are not in accord with the natural inclinations of man; hence, his metamorphosis into a creature of deeply rooted religious practices must begin with the awakening of reason and be the principal object of education. Reiterated efforts are in constant demand in religious practices and in this consists its special value in will training. Isolated acts amount to little. Our religion calls for yearly, weekly and daily duties, often hard and severe, it is true, but, nevertheless to be performed. The will submits to the rule and order demanded by religion and in doing so absorbs something of order and regularity in operating. In the school, therefore, too much importance cannot be attached to the task of seeing that the pupils are practical Catholics and of encouraging the backward and stimulating those prone to relax to renewed effort. This, in conjunction with the exemplification of religion's transforming power in the lives of the teachers, the consecrated servants of God, is a potent factor in the training of the will.

It is imperative that there be a reasonable supervision and constant encouragement if results are to be forthcoming. Children seem to be of the sanguine temperament or of a combination of several types of temperament of which the sanguine is a component. Great enthusiasm is manifested in the beginning but it soon cools and unless stimulated is in danger of going out. Parish societies, sodalities or confraternities are often found of value in bracing up drooping spirits. Again, the home conditions may offset all that the school attempts. I would suggest as a remedy parent-teacher associations. The minor evils of school life can to a large extent be corrected through them and in different cases even the major evils respond to the treatment. A large part of the lack of cooperation of the home with the school is due, in my opinion, to ignorance of the real value of school work.

In summing up this delineation of the subject, for the time allotment restricts it to a delineation, the Catholic system, putting faith before prosperity, virtue before riches, occupies the position of vantage in the formation of real, sterling character. The [206] natural and supernatural motives it proposes are an antidote to every possible form of human frailty; moreover, centuries have tried the system and failed to find it wanting because its procedure is drawn entirely from the life and teachings of the greatest possible real character, the God-Man.

Discussion

Rev. P. M. Stief: We have here a very pertinent problem, and I desire to emphasize particularly the practical aspects of it, for Dr. Wehrle has dealt very capably with the theory but had little opportunity, necessarily, to expand the practical features.

It seems to me—and I believe you will agree—that our Catholic system of education, with all its conscientious and self-sacrificing teachers, with all its aims centering in the education of the whole man, body and soul, for this life and the next, is missing a cog somewhere. I don't want to seem over-critical, but I cannot see that we are turning out young men and women of sterling religious character in as great numbers as we should expect. I don't mean to say that we are not doing better in this matter than other, non-religious, schools; but, in my experience at least, I have noticed that while a large proportion of the boys and girls who leave our schools yearly are of solid character, yet there are all too many who are not a credit to us. These latter seem to fall largely into two opposite classes: those who are too timid, too docile, too weak-kneed, almost too cowardly, I would say; and those who, on leaving us, soon throw to the winds all respect for law and decency, who have little regard for God or His Church and are a living disgrace to the school that reared them.

Wherein then lies our failure? Religion, we are all convinced, is a most powerful agency in character-building. The fault must be with us and our methods. Is it possible that we are not making the proper use of religion in our teaching the young? Is it possible that religion is too much wrapped up with the rules and routine of school life? Or is it that we are regarding it as a separate study, tacked on to the secular branches, when it should really permeate, illumine and ennoble all other studies by means of skillful correlation? Is it possible that our teachers, in their own lives, are so absorbed with the cultivation of supernatural virtues, to the exclusion of the natural virtues and motives? For these latter, because they seem more tangible to people destined to live in the world and not in the cloister, can often be very helpful. I say this, of course, with all due respect for things supernatural, which I am sure we will not neglect. But do we strive, by all good pedagogic means, to instill in the children a knowledge of such natural virtues as reverence, pity, self-respect, sincerity, square-dealing, sympathy, candor, etc.? And [207] do we help them and urge them to practice these even now in their lives? They may show deep respect to the priest and Sisters, or even to Sister X who depends on her personality or the religious garb for her discipline, but do they show a like reverence for their parents or for others in authority outside the classroom? They may apologize to us for a wrong done, but will they be honorable enough to "make up" with a schoolmate whom they may have injured? In character training, as in other branches of education, knowledge plus practice make for success. And we will do well to seek out situations—even invent some—that will give our students practice in the virtues we wish to inculcate.

Law, as Father Wehrle points out, is of course basic in character formation. Our pupiles should comprehend well the meaning and significance of divine law and that all human laws, ecclesiastical, civil, social, derive their force and power from the divine law; that, therefore, duty regardless of consequences must be our standard of conduct, as well in the early grades as in later life. But what attitude toward the "reign of law" do we inspire in our pupils? Do they not look on it as a bugaboo, an external hardship, something to be evaded if possible? Do we show them, in season and out, that laws are for our good, that the Commandments given to Moses on Sinai were a blessing from God, leading the human race, which had wandered far afield, back to Him and to real happiness even in this world?

As regards the will, which is also a basic factor here, the theory of which Father Wehrle has shown, I will make one observation which not all of you may agree with, and I shall be glad to hear your opinions. I think we depend too much on the external acts of religion, for instance, bows, genuflections, set-times for prayers, compulsory attendance at daily Mass, the group practice for children's confessions, etc. Whilst all these practices are invaluable in that they develop habits which make the performance of religious duties somewhat easier in later life, yet they may, and doubtless often do, become meaningless and automatic, unless they are made to strengthen the will and thereby to develop real will-habits that are so necessary if our men and women are to do the right things at all times and under all circumstances.

This desideratum is not reached by mere repetition of acts, mere routine. When our boys went into the war camps and, under military discipline, were forced to adopt regular habits—rising and retiring early, wearing sensible army shoes—many people said, "When they are mustered out we will have boys trained to take proper care of their health and strength." But somehow it didn't happen. They now keep later hours, if anything, and the pointed toe is still the most popular mode in footwear. 

The real volitional habits are developed by the "free performance of duty as understood under the law of right and wrong." It must be a free performance; and right here I think we probably make a mistake in our school practice. Perhaps we hedge in our children on all sides with too [208] many rules and too much routine. We are safeguarding the children certainly—for the present and while they are with us; we may be encouraging good habits; but we must make sure to strengthen the will and to lay the foundation for character. We need to give our pupils more scope for free choice and the exercise of self-control. Full supervision and control by the teacher are probably necessary in the first grade. But from then on there should be an ever increasing freedom in our classes until, at the end of the eighth grade, we can turn out our boys and girls into the world—if necessary—and feel confident that they already know what liberty is and have the power to use it rightly.

One thing more and I have done. It is not enough that we gradually lesson our restraint and routine. We must stimulate desire—desire to do one's duty regardless of consequences, and a real desire (born of love for, and understanding of, our holy religion) to stand forth before the world as sound, practical, fearless Catholics, a glory to God, a credit to their Church and to our schools. What finer type of character could we desire?

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Source: Rev. Joseph J. Wehrle, "Education for Character Formation," Catholic Educational Association Bulletin 18, no. 1 (Nov. 1921): 198–208.

St. Augustine on Sin as Preference for the Private Good

[69] In the way we know all things of which we have knowledge by reason, and yet reason itself is also counted among the things we know by reason. Or did you forget that when we asked what is known by reason, you conceded that reason is also known by reason? [1] So do not be surprised that even if we use other things by free will, we are able to use free will through free will itself. The will that uses other things somehow uses itself, the same way as reason, which knows other things, knows itself too. Memory does not only embrace all the other things we remember. Since we do not forget that we have memory, memory also somehow grasps memory itself in us, and it remembers not only other things but also itself – or, rather, we remember other things as well as memory itself through it.

Thus when the will, which is an intermediate good, holds fast to the unchangeable good as something common rather than private – like the truth, which we have discussed at length without saying anything adequate – a person grasps the happy life. And the happy life, i.e. the [70] attachment of the mind holding fast to the unchangeable good, is the proper and fundamental good for a human being. It also includes all the virtues, which no one can use for evil. Although the virtues are great and fundamental goods in human beings, we thoroughly understand that they are proper to each person, not that they are common. Truth and wisdom, however, are common to all, and people become wise and happy by holding fast to them. Of course, one person does not become happy by the happiness of another. Even if you emulate another in order to be happy, you seek to become happy by means of what you saw made the other person happy, namely through the unchangeable and common truth. Nor does anyone become prudent by another person’s prudence, or is made courageous by another’s courage, or moderate by another’s moderateness, or just by another’s justice. Instead, you conform your mind to those unchangeable rules and beacons of the virtues,[2] which live uncorruptibly in the truth itself and in the wisdom that is common, to which the person furnished with virtues whom you put forward as a model for your emulation has conformed and directed his mind.

Therefore, when the will adheres to the common and unchangeable good, it achieves the great and fundamental goods of a human being, despite being an intermediate good. But the will sins when it is turned away from the unchangeable and common good, towards its private good, or towards something external, or towards something lower. The will is turned to its private good when it wants to be in its own power; it is turned to something external when it is eager to know the personal affairs of other people, or anything that is not its business; it is turned to something lower when it takes delight in bodily pleasures. And thus someone who is made proud or curious or lascivious is captured by another life that, in comparison to the higher life, is death.[3]

Footnotes:

1. See 2.3.9.36.
2. See 2.10.29.116–2.10.29.118.
3. See 1.4.10.30.

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Source: St. Augustine, On the Free Choice of the Will, in On the Free Choice of the Will, On Grace and Free Choice, and Other Writings, ed. by Peter King (New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 2.19.51.194–2.19.53.200, 69–70.

https://philonew.files.wordpress.com/2016/08/augustine-augustine-on-the-free-choice-of-the-will-on-grace-and-free-choice-and-other-writings-2010.pdf

Jonathan Snow: Creating a Self Identity in a Social Media World - Some Thoughts

http://www.thewritingofjonathansnow.com/2016/05/creating-self-identity-in-social-media.html

Some thoughts on the above excellent article.

If I have any criticisms, they would mostly pertain to the ambiguous use of the notions of identity, self, and human nature. A consistent point of Snow's essay is that technology "fundamentally changes" humans, leading to or, more weakly put, encouraging a "cyborgian form of being and self-identification." The exact extent of this modification on the level of being isn't explained although its influence on the level of action and reaction is, especially in the areas of "human emotions and traditional forms of communication" as well as the action of "autobiographical self-writing." Snow repeats several times throughout his essay that "our very human nature is fundamentally shifted through" our use of various social media technologies into "a cyborgian form of being," but the demonstration is not clearly made.

The notion of identity isn't explicated. Snow jumps immediately into the psychological effects of Facebook's algorithms on constructing a "coherent narrative" that presents certain bits of information for the user instead of others. The precise effect is that the range of possible identity formation is inhibited or directed by those algorithms in such a way as to prevent deep thought and more extensive forms of self-expression, reflection, and discursive thought characteristic of humans. The permanent effect of these technologies is not argued for; in fact, Snow gives an anecdotal account of how he was able to personally reverse some of the effects after limiting his own use of those technologies. His essay ends with a call to be more wary regarding the use, implying that the shift into a cyborgian mode of living is not permanent. This lack of permanence only raises the further question of what Snow means by saying that human nature is "fundamentally changed."

Part of the inhibition occurs through the use of templates either in the form of the message (text, pictures with a single line of text as in Snapchat) or in terms of length (Twitter's 140 characters, Vine's 6 seconds).

Traditional natural philosophy (and metaphysics) distinguishes between the orders of being and the orders of action, or between the entitative and the operative. The traditional axiom is that action follows or flows from being. In other words, the very essence or form of a being delineates the range of actions of which it is capable. If we wonder why a rock cannot see or fly or speak, we can answer simply that its nature or form prevents it from doing so. Furthermore, the range of actions that may flow from a being may be hindered in various ways from being exercised, either externally as from some violence or internally as from some defect within the subject.

A claim that human nature is fundamentally changed must ultimately be intelligible metaphysically, that is, explained with respect to a modification in human being or doing. My criticism is that Snow's essay shows only changes on the level of doing, of actions characteristic of humans yet not so fundamental as to change the very essence of humans. It would be hard to see how a person could undo the effects of such technology if his very essence were changed, if he were no longer the same kind of being.

The effects of habits on human action are thoroughly explained in traditional natural philosophy. Examples of communication, human emotion, and the ability to focus or reason in an extended, discursive fashion are all examples of operations that flow from human nature. The argument of the essay is that the changes in these activities indicate a change at the level of being. It is not clear, however, that these changes cannot be explained as the formation of certain habits, which are accidental or non-essential changes, that inhibit the full operations of human nature as mentioned above, hindrances coming either externally from some form of violence (whether physical or perhaps in the case of Facebook algorithms on the level of sensory and intellectual input) or some defect.

We know from a growing number of psychological studies that attention and reasoning abilities require training to improve and can deteriorate over time either through misuse or lack of use. It seems more reasonable to say that social media fosters this deterioration and encourages the formation of habits that inhibit the full functioning of actions proper to human nature, rather than effecting any change in human nature on the level of being. In other words, the cyborgian form of living is not an essential or fundamental change but rather an accidental and secondary change, one that admits of degrees and can even be reversed by a change in one's actions.

This criticism brings us to a second possible criticism of the essay, namely, a confusion between the orders of being and operation. For example, Snow writes, "Furthermore, technology inhibits the deep thought and work that makes humans unique." If action flows from being and is determined by being, then the above quotation gets things in the opposite order. Deep thought and work do not make humans unique but are manifestations of a fundamental nature, and it is the nature that makes humans unique, and from this nature flows certain actions, namely, deep thought and work. Deep thought is a work that only humans can do because of their nature and not because of their environments. Their environments either help or hinder the exercise of this form of activity but do not cause them. To suggest so could imply that humans don't have a proper, stable nature to themselves but are constituted wholly by environmental factors, at which point it no longer makes sense to speak of a collective human race but only individuals that reflect certain actions at some points that can be called "human" for an otherwise arbitrary reason.

The opposition between deep work and mindless boredom is interesting but again ambiguous. Strictly, boredom is a lack of interest, and deep work is more than interest but an application of rational activity on some object. Perhaps it would be more precise to say that boredom is a symptom of a person who does not engage regularly in deep work or lacks the opportunities or environments to do so. Our attraction to novel distraction is not strictly correlated with the lack of opportunities for deep work but may also reflect a profound crisis in the modern notion of one's self-identity being in contrast with the demands of reality, even on the unconscious level.

The relationship between characteristically human activities and existential boredom is not clearly explained either. The need to have a certain self-identity is certainly a contemporary dilemma, but the importance of identity was not stressed in the past when certainly much deep work was done by plenty of humans.

On the other hand, digital technologies afford a certain distraction that can legitimately be used as a form of leisure. The same cautions that St. Thomas gives to leisure in general certainly apply to modern technologies and even more so by their ability to stimulate our nervous system in ways that traditional, physical forms of leisure could not. Above all, the need for self-control in the use and engagement of these technologies stands at the forefront. So while one may not be able to "effect a fundamental change in existential temporality" while playing Doodle Jump, on the other hand there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with Doodle Jump in itself when certain restrictions are kept in mind and it is remembered that Doodle Jump (hopefully) isn't trying to effect such a fundamental, existential change or at least prevent it from happening in the rest of the user's life.

It is not clear the extent to which technology cannot aid us in participating in or entering into "something beautiful, powerful, or peaceful." Social media technologies don't claim to try to do this although they do try to provide a platform in which we can share such experiences with each other, such as sending a photograph or video of a sunset or sharing a poem that was particularly moving to us. The Internet is a polymorphous technology with many possibilities of action, but at the end of the day, it is only one form of technology. We have to remember that writing is a technology, and so are pianos and musical instruments, yet these latter certainly are regularly part of many beautiful, powerful, and peaceful experiences. Is it conceivable that digital technology might provide a similar experience? Perhaps we can find something close in movies that contain noble themes and artful craftsmanship.

An interesting counterpoint to Snow's essay is that it is precisely through the Internet that more and more people are being exposed to the findings of psychological studies stressing the need to relax and to strengthen our natural ability to focus through regular self-discipline, such as mindfulness practices. In other words, the very technologies that have been destroying the exercise of our natural capacities have also been the vehicle to warn us of that fact.

It is further unclear what the effects of networked and fragmented thinking are on human nature itself. Such broad statements as "what does this lost ability mean for our humanity" are too vague to give much of a response to. As indicated earlier, it is perfectly explicable that intrinsic actions flowing from an essence or nature may be inhibited by habits that deform the natural exercise of those activities, and although habits have a certain semi-permanent quality, they are reversible and do not alter a subject on the order of essence. It is uncertain that networked thinking is really possible without a linear process in the mind on the level of consciousness and that the ability to shift rapidly between multiple elements is really anything different than what humans have always done in discursive reasoning.

Speculative questions about the potential future of human thinking and evolution and the "hive mind" are almost always too ambiguous to respond to.

The importance or even nature of a self-identity are left without the needed explanation to understand their relationship to existing and living in our world. Snow's invoking of Crawford's autonomy/heteronomy distinction is confusing because its contribution to his thesis is unclear. It remains unclear why whether a subject "flits about" or pursues "settled purposes and ongoing projects" is a problem to be solved. The notion of a sense of self can occur on multiple levels of discourse, psychologically, philosophically, socially, etc. What sense Snow is using isn't clear.

Finally, the actual danger of technology-guided or aided self-reflection also remains unclear. While an unquestioning reliance on algorithms that we have no understanding of may strike a note of fear in those desiring to construct an autonomous identity, perhaps on the other hand we should recall that many forms of modern identity are constituted precisely by the intersection between the false individualism and the totalitarian consumerism existing in a social-media soaked culture, and the very attempt to preserve any notion of coherence to this sort of identity is merely an unconscious fantasy desire to continue promoting what is at its very root in opposition to the full demands of reality and human nature itself. Perhaps an embrace of human nature rather than the non-essentialism so prevalent in academia and now popular culture would remind us of the basic need for restraint in the leisurely use of our technologies, whether digital or mechanical, and that identity formation must firstly run the way of reality and not virtual reality before it can lead to any genuine promotion of human flourishing. Technologies can certainly aid us in the exercise of properly human operation, for technology in its traditional understanding falls under art, which is simply the production of things according to right reason (recta ratio factibilium), and as such technology ought already to be a reflection of the right order of things, extending and aiding our natural faculties and operations, the way a telescope aids our natural sight to see what is truly there but without which we could never discover, or a simple organization schema can put into order the jumbled and quasi-related elements of our thought as we try to form coherent discourse.

Repost: "Saving the 'Benedict Option' from Culture War Conservatism"

[...] There is a sense among many conservatives that the Benedict Option is really just a more sophisticated “I’m moving to Canada” lament by those who lost the Culture War. But is this white-flag-waving, defeat-and-retreat “Benedict Option” the same vision we find in the final pages of After Virtue? Or is it—as several interlocutors at Dreher’s blog have begun questioning—a repeat of the “take to the woods” strategy of American Protestant fundamentalism in the early 20th century?

There’s good reason to believe that the popularized Benedict Option diverges from MacIntyre’s understanding in several crucial ways. Take, for instance, the basic timeline. MacIntyre sees our condition as the result of many centuries of development in moral and political thought, while those advocating the popular version pinpoint the origins of the decline within the last decade—in the post-Bush American political landscape. Such a hasty adoption of this “civilizational collapse” mentality should raise several concerns, most centrally whether such culture-despairers might—given the right set of platitude-spouting political candidates in the next election cycle—find themselves drawn back to the seductive hopes of “imperium maintenance.”

A proper understanding of MacIntyre’s larger argument can save After Virtue’s Benedict Option from being reduced to conservative Culture War retreatism. While After Virtue‘s conclusion may stand out for its “Dark Ages” imagery and grim diagnosis, MacIntyre’s body of work reveals a consistent predilection for particular localized forms of shared moral life. This is often confused with contemporary conservatism or communitarianism, two traditions from which he distances himself. Understanding his vision of localized communities requires also a broader engagement with his ongoing interactions with Marxism, his criticism of contemporary communitarianism, and his more recent political thought in the 2011 volume Virtue and Politics.

Briefly stitching together this vision allows us to see that some Benedict Option advocates have diverged from MacIntyre in three crucial ways: conflating contemporary electoral gains and losses with centuries-long conditions of modern culture; endorsing a form of “conservatism liberalism” denounced by MacIntyre; and falsely creating an either/or of engagement and withdrawal efforts that misses the “radical localist” push of MacIntyre’s political project. Briefly exploring each of these points supports a clearer evaluation of how MacIntyre’s work might serve the particular needs of our current political and moral predicament.

[...] Yet neither the growth of the Christian Right nor the rise of Reagan-Thatcher neoliberal economics would do anything to offset MacIntyre’s dark assessment of the “barbarians governing us,” which he reaffirms in the two editions and the 2007 prologue published subsequently. His uninterest in either 2004 presidential candidate confirms the conflict. MacIntyre’s focus has consistently been on sustaining “practice-based communities” amidst cultural conditions that transcend court rulings, electoral cycles, and partisan gains and losses.

Secondly, MacIntyre’s Benedict Option is not a blueprint for piecing together utopian societies built around the modern conservative agenda. He explicitly distances his work from the contemporary “conservative moralist” who imports his “inflated and self-righteous unironic rhetoric” to a set role established for him among the ruling liberal elite. Much of modern social conservatism envisions shoring up particular values—whether personal, patriotic, or sacred—through means of the modern liberal state, displaying a confidence in the modern state not shared by MacIntyre.

What popular Benedict Option accounts also leave out is MacIntyre’s critical view of certain economic configurations in advanced capitalism that are equally culpable for producing our current moral condition. Though MacIntyre left behind organized Marxism over fifty years ago, his work still takes seriously the interrelationship between economic systems and flourishing moral culture. Modern conservatism often fails to connect the two. Contemporary Benedict Option advocates could recover this interrelationship by turning to the careful empirical work of several sociologists attuned to the moral consequences of neoliberal capitalism: thinkers such as Richard Sennett, William Julius Wilson, and even Christian Smith’s wider contextualization of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism, a frequent subject of Dreher’s work. Such work reinserts into this discussion an examination of economic configurations compatible and incompatible with the pursuit of particular forms of flourishing.

Finally, MacIntyre’s wider work envisions thick moral communities that are as revolutionary as they are retreatist, and that encompass both inward-facing and outward-facing virtues and practices. In Dependent Rational Animals MacIntyre develops from Aquinas the virtue of just generosity, a form of solidarity that extends to those with needs outside one’s immediate community. This openness to and concern for the outsider reflects the practices of Benedictine monasteries themselves.

[...] Such activities work within the niches and cracks of existing structures to build alternative practices and social relations that resist dominant cultural norms—what Erik Olin Wright labels “interstitial” strategies of transformation.

[...] Both MacIntyre and Wright argue that such efforts—in forming people’s imaginations counter to the dominant culture while still spatially located within it—can lay necessary groundwork for wider social transformation.

We are at a time when a growing number of observers have recognized the prevailing political structures are unable to produce particular moral results, whether greater economic justice, a non-racialized policing and justice system, decisive environmental policy, or the preservation of privacy rights. MacIntyre’s work, saved from a retreatist Culture War conservatism, can speak to a variety of efforts and traditions that seek ends of justice and flourishing that counter the dominant social order. [...]

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Source: Andrew Lynn, "Saving the 'Benedict Option' from Culture War Conservatism," Ethika Politika blog, June 4, 2015, accessed June 12, 2015, http://ethikapolitika.org/2015/06/04/saving-the-benedict-option-from-culture-war-conservatism/.

Alasdair MacIntyre on the Fiction of Human Rights

[81] I take it that both the utilitarianism of the middle and late nineteenth century and the analytical moral philosophy of the middle and late twentieth century are alike unsuccessful attempts to rescue the autonomous moral agent from the predicament in which the failure of the Enlightenment project of providing him with a secular, [82] rational justification for his moral allegiances had left him. I have already characterized that predicament as one in which the price paid for liberation from what appeared to be the external authority of traditional morality was the loss of any authoritative content from the would-be moral utterances of the newly autonomous agent. Each moral agent now spoke unconstrained by the externalities of divine law, natural teleology or hierarchical authority; but why should anyone else now listen to him? It was and is to this question that both utilitarianism and analytical moral philosophy must be understood as attempting to give cogent answers; and if my argument is correct, it is precisely this question which both fail to answer cogently. Nonetheless almost everyone, philosopher and non-philosopher alike, continues to speak and write as if one of these projects had succeeded. And hence derives one of the features of contemporary moral discourse which I noticed at the outset, the gap between the meaning of moral expressions and the ways in which they are put to use. For the meaning is and remains such as would have been warranted only if at least one of the philosophical projects had been successful; but the use, the emotivist use, is precisely what one would expect if the philosophical projects had all failed.

Contemporary moral experience as a consequence has a paradoxical character. For each of us is taught to see himself or herself as an autonomous moral agent; but each of us also becomes engaged by modes of practice, aesthetic or bureaucratic, which involve us in manipulative relationships with others. Seeking to protect the autonomy that we have learned to prize, we aspire ourselves not to be manipulated by others; seeking to incarnate our own principles and stand-point in the world of practice, we find no way open to us to do so except by directing towards others those very manipulative modes of relationship which each of us aspires to resist in our own case. The incoherence of our attitudes and our experience arises from the incoherent conceptual scheme which we have inherited.

Once we have understood this it is possible to understand also the key place that three other concepts have in the distinctively modern moral scheme, that of rights, that of protest, and that of unmasking. By 'rights' I do not mean those rights conferred by positive law or custom on specified classes of persons; I mean those rights which are alleged to belong to human beings as such and which are cited as a person for holding that people ought not to be interfered with in their pursuit [83] of life, liberty and happiness. They are the rights which were spoken of in the eighteenth century as natural rights or as the rights of man. Characteristically in that century they were defined negatively, precisely as rights not to be interfered with. But sometimes in that century and much more often in our own positive rights—rights to due process, to education or to employment are examples—are added to the list. The expression 'human rights' is now commoner than either of the eighteenth-century expressions. But whether negative or positive and however named they are supposed to attach equally to all individuals, whatever their sex, race, religion, talents or deserts, and to provide a ground for a variety of particular moral stances.

It would of course be a little odd that there should be such rights attaching to human beings simply qua human beings in light of the fact, which I alluded to in my discussion of Gewirth's argument, that there is no expression in any ancient or medieval language correctly translated by our expression 'a right' until near the close of the middle ages: the concept lacks any means of expression in Hebrew, Greek, Latin or Arabic, classical or medieval, before about 1400, let alone in Old English, or in Japanese even as late as the mid-nineteenth century. From this it does not of course follow that there are no natural or human rights; it only follows that no one could have known that there were. And this at least raises certain questions. But we do not need to be distracted into answering them, for the truth is plain: there are no such rights, and belief in them is one with belief in witches and unicorns.

The best reason for asserting so bluntly that there are no such rights is indeed of precisely the same type as the best reason which we possess for asserting that there are no witches and the best reason which we possess for asserting that there are no unicorns: every attempt to give good reasons for believing that there are such rights has failed. [There is also a connection here to that form of relative being within the realm of ens rationis, crucial to the possibility of confusing reality with fiction and vice versa, but MacIntyre doesn't bring this up.] The eighteenth-century philosophical defenders of natural rights sometimes suggest that the assertions which state that men possess them are self-evident truths; but we know that there are no self-evident truths. Twentieth-century moral philosophers have sometimes appealed to their and our intuitions; but one of the things that we ought to have learned from the history of moral philosophy is that the introduction of the word 'intuition' by a moral philosopher is always a signal that something has gone badly wrong with an argument. In the United Nations declaration on human rights of 1949 what has since become [84] the normal UN practice of not giving good reasons for any assertions whatsoever is followed with great rigor. And the latest defender of such rights, Ronald Dworkin (Taking Rights Seriously, 1976) concedes that the existence of such rights cannot be demonstrated, but remarks on this point simply that it does not follow from the fact that a statement cannot be demonstrated that it is not true (p. 81). Which is true, but could equally be used to defend claims about unicorns and witches.

Natural or human rights then are fictions—just as is utility—but fictions with highly specific properties.

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Source: Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue (London, UK: Bloomsbury Academic, 2007), 81–84.

Judgment Is the Only Sin

I have heard some people claim that their philosophy is that "judgment is the only sin." They proceed to act as they please and allow others to do likewise so long as the twain shall ne'er harm each other or get in each others' way against their wills.

But what is judgment? The person may reply, "It is to condemn another for their beliefs and their way of life." In other words, it is to say that something that a person is doing or the way a person is—that is wrong. It is to declare something wrong. A judgment in its most simple form is an assertion that something is or ought to be this way. But then to say "judgment is the only sin" is itself a judgment against judgment. Furthermore, to say, "People can do as they please" is also a judgment, a judgment of freedom; it is an apparently positive judgment but still a judgment. To qualify a statement that one can do as one pleases so long as it harms no one else is a restriction imposed by judgment: behavior is good insofar as it isn't harmful. And what is harm? It is up to the judgment of the individual (and practically speaking, the law).

Why is judgment the only judgment prohibited? These same people will then also assert, when pressed, that obviously things such as rape, genocide, pedophilia, etc., are wrong. But who are they to pass judgment? Why can a person do anything they please except those things that harm others? And who determines what it means to harm others? The individual?

This is a morality of solipsism, of individualism. It allows the individual to get away with anything he wants without responsibility for consequences and without regard for others.

Remember, Christ never forbade judgments in Matthew 7; He forbade hypocritical judgments. Christ Himself made many condemnations and was fully justified in doing so.

Judgment is fundamental to human action. Every action presupposes a judgment. Even animals make judgments. This morality of solipsism is simply a justification for sin, and it seeks to alleviate guilt by removing the possibility of judgment, of condemnation for bad behavior. That is why judgment is the only sin: because the presence of judgment means the possibility that I have to own up to my sins, that I can't simply do as I please without regard for consequences, that I am not an isolated individual who schizophrenically has no regard for others and regard for others only when I desire, when I determine.

Distinction: Right/Wrong vs. Virtuous/Vicious

Instead of thinking about issues in terms of "right and wrong," "good and bad," think of them in terms of "virtuous and vicious."

Instead of: is this action right/wrong?
This: is this action virtuous or vicious? That is, will it make me more virtuous or vicious, more human, in the image of God, more free, more noble, more happy, more integrated—or will it make me more like the beasts?

Society often draws us to make the choice against virtue. It pressures us to follow this way, which it claims will make us more free, more noble, more happy, more integrated. But see for yourself the results.

Catholicism has the virtue of being able to see the true, the good, and the beautiful in all things. But actually, most people simply do not have sufficient reflective abilities to do so. For them, and I count myself among them, we should stick to what is explicit—Christ. That's safe and plenty a challenge (if we want a challenge or rather are we just kidding ourselves?). Does society mention Christ? Only as the calling card of fundamentalists. So there you go. Don't follow society. It's quite clear. Stick to what the Church teaches, and you'll be safe.

There are others who think themselves intellectual enough to see the true, good, and beautiful amidst the muck of society. For them, I wish good luck. For myself, I have learned from the Saints that often what I believe is true, good, and beautiful is hardly ever what it seems. My judgments about things are most often and most likely wrong precisely because I have not been sharpened in holiness. Because I haven't been purified, I do not see properly, think properly, feel properly. Everything is slightly ... off.

So it's easier for me to think about things in this way: rather than right/wrong, is it virtuous or not? This is also particularly helpful for people with scruples.

The Sex-Full, Love-Empty Individual

An anonymous commenter wrote:

This is the stupidest bunch of bull[****] I’ve ever read. First of all, am I happy that I slept around before I got married? Yes I am. Am I happy that I am sexually active now that I’m divorced? Yes, I am. Why? Because I know what I like, and I know what it takes to please me sexually.
When are people going to learn that love and sex are two separate things?

Source: anonymous, comment, November 14, 2013, on "Abstinence Is Unrealistic and Old Fashioned," The Matt Walsh Blog, November 9, 2013, accessed November 15, 2013, http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/11/09/abstinence-is-unrealistic-and-old-fashioned/

This comment, following a blog post in support of abstinence until marriage (http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/11/09/abstinence-is-unrealistic-and-old-fashioned/), was met with many other comment responses in refutation of or reaction to it. But the comment itself is revealing on so many levels.

I might first note that the refutation of the blog post's argument is an appeal to the commenter's present level of sexual satisfaction, which the commenter equates with her happiness. Would that mean, by the commenter's apparent logic, if the commenter was not sexually satisfied in the present that the blog post's argument would be sound?

But the second is that this comment, soaked in individualistic, post-Enlightenment, and libertarian discourse ("I," "happy," "sexually active," "divorced," "like," "takes to please," "love," "separate"), the mentality that fuels and places individual autonomy and rights above everything else, pays no concern to anything other than the individual, and even then, it is the individual on the conscious level. But what about the individual on the unconscious level?

Notice three facts about this comment: 1) it was made anonymously; 2) it was posted; 3) it ends: "When are people going to learn that love and sex are two separate things?"

Both the commenter and the people addressed are left undefined, presumably left to be filled in by context. But in fact, even if the commenter had a name (and pictures and a profile, etc.), we could have no assurance that the apparent identity we see on the web was in fact the true identity of the poster. It's one of the possibilities of the internet that what you see is not what you get. Such falsified identities occur all the time, and in some contexts are systematically encouraged, such as in message boards or online gaming. (A question related to this issue: what does such phenomena do to the individual identity, to the notion of self?) My point being: a comment in the comment box is in most circumstances intrinsically anonymous for the average reader.

The comment is an appeal by an anonymous victim to an anonymous "Other," the Other that instills in us much of our desires and beliefs, the Other that St. John calls the world and the devil.

And what is the appeal? "Learn that sex and love are two separate things."

And what is the woman doing now? Sex.

Which means she isn't getting: Love.

And that is the issue, and no amount of comment responses will show her otherwise. Prayers and acts of love by people striving for holiness alone will show her the truth that abstinence is love, and the sexual act should be an expression of love reserved for the lifelong bond of marriage.

St. Thomas Aquinas on Miracles and Virtue

So he sends them as he was sent, to preach. Hence Do penance... and as Jesus had begun (above 4:17): "Do penance,": so he commands them. He had begun: "Do penance, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand"; "For salvation is far from sinners" (Ps 119:155), but now it is near through the passion of Christ: "With his own blood he entered once into the holy place, thus securing an eternal redemption" (Heb 9:12). Hence he says, is at hand, namely, through my passion. So it is established in them by partaking of grace: "The whole kingdom of God is within you" (Lk 17:21).

But they could say: How shall we confirm what we say? Certainly by miracles as he did. So he says, Heal the sick... But if someone asks why the Church does not work miracles now, the answer is given that miracles were preformed to prove the faith, but now the faith has even been approved. Therefore, just as a person who formulated one demonstration to prove some conclusion would have no need for another one, so here. Hence the greatest miracle is the conversion of the whole world, so there is no need for other ones. But just as the other miracles were bodily, so every day spiritual miracles are performed, because the spiritually infirm are cured. For the infirm are those tossed about by sin and those prone to sin: "Welcome the man who is weak in faith" (Rom 14:1), and they are healed by the Lord. But those who consent are dead, because separated from God, as it says in Ephesians (5:14): "Awake, you sleeper, and arise from the dead." Likewise, lepers are cleansed; for lepers are those who infect others, because leprosy is a contagious disease, and sometimes they are cured. In 2 Kings (5:27) it is recorded that the leprosy of Naaman cleaved to Gehozi. Furthermore, devils are cast out; for devils are ones who have already committed sin: "They rejoice in doing evil and delight in the perverseness of evil"(Pr 2:14), and as is said of Judas (Jn 13:27): "Satan entered into him." And these are sometimes cured.

But because the apostles could say: "Now we shall be rich; if we perform miracles, we shall have much." This was the reason Simon Magus wanted to perform miracles. But the Lord excludes this, saying, You received without pay, give without pay. It is great to perform miracles, but it is greater to live virtuously. Hence he removes pride from them, because pride can happen in two ways: either from cupidity or from deserts [sic]. For the highest form of pride appears when a person ascribes to himself the good he has.

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Source: St. Thomas Aquinas, Commentary on Saint Matthew's Gospel (Super Evangelium S. Matthaei lectura), trans. R.F. Larcher, chapter 10, lecture 1, verses 7-8; http://dhspriory.org/thomas/SSMatthew.htm

Emphases mine.

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Interestingly, St. Thomas's answer to the question why miracles are not performed today as they were in the past suggests the possibility that the Church may again work miracles in the future if the faith were to come into worldwide question.

Distinction: The Virtuous, Continent, Incontinent, and Vicious Man

[T]he virtuous man is inclined towards good both by his sense appetite and by his (practical) reason, and that he actually chooses good with his will. The continent man is like the virtuous man, except his sense appetite does not incline him towards the good that he knows and chooses, so there is a certain tension within him: he acts against his sense appetite. The incontinent man, like the continent man, is inclined towards evil by his sense appetite and yet is capable of knowing the good that he ought to do through practical reason, but unlike the continent man, he chooses evil. Finally, the vicious man is inclined towards evil, rationalizes his evildoing through practical reason, and chooses evil--in at least one respect he is like the virtuous man, namely, in that there is a certain harmony among his powers, albeit a perverse one.

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Source: Francisco Romero Carrasquillo, "Continence and Incontinence, A Handy-Dandy Table," Ite ad Thomam Blog, October 30, 2013, accessed November 6, 2013, http://iteadthomam.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-other-day-in-my-philosophical.html