Author: Nick

Greta Gerwig’s ‘Barbie’ is a marvelous movie. It entices the audience to lose themselves in bouquet of visual delight, but conceals piercing thematic thorns for those who would succumb to its bubblegum allure. I’d be shocked if anyone made it through the film without at both a chuckle and a tear, at the least. Pain and pleasure are the sweeter for their juxtaposition. ‘Barbie’ could easily be a kid’s movie. Like any good children’s story, there are messages and themes waiting to be unraveled by an increasingly sophisticated viewer. In this post, I will examine one of those themes, the birth of misogyny.  

Plenty has been posted by writers far more qualified than I about the feminist message of the film. Any effort to extol these virtues would be superfluous, and I will make no such effort here. This is not to suggest that there is not a strong feminist thread to the movie, or that feminism is not the central theme. It is. While there are powerful, clear take-home lessons and instances of much-needed authentic representation, these stand side-by-side with subtler nods and oblique suggestions. It is these less-obvious moments that pique my interest.

“My aim is therapeutic; my hope is that by discussing and understanding the root of misogynistic behavior, people who want to avoid it can do so.”

Misogyny has nearly as many faces as there are people. At one point in the film, Sasha (played by Ariana Greenblatt) suggests that hating women is the one thing both men and women can agree on. Hopefully this is just angsty hyperbole.

Modern social theory sees no distinction between actions and character states. According to Critical Race Theory, for example, people think, say and do racist things because they (at least, all white people) are in fact racist. I disagree with this analysis. Of course some people are racist. Of course many people think, say and do racist things. However, the racist person thinks, says and does the racist thing because it is racist. They take considerations of race and racial prejudice to sufficiently justify or motivate some thoughts, words and actions. At the same time, there are people who do not take considerations of race to be sufficient to justify or motivate those same thoughts, words and actions. One internal signal that you are not racist is a genuine feeling of regret following some racist thought, word or action. Only you yourself are in a position to know if that regret is present. One external signal is effort to identify and correct racist thoughts, word and actions. The genuinely racist person feels no such regret and makes no such efforts.

In plain speaking we might say that the group who tries not to, but fails, does racist things “against their will.” In moral psychology we call actions of this kind ‘akratic’.^[1]To be fair, there is considerable academic debate about how akrasia is best understood. Akrasia is one of my areas of expertise but many people disagree with the picture I paint here. See … Continue reading At least in my opinion—if not in fact—not everyone who does something racist or homophobic or misogynistic or whatever does it because they themselves are racist, homophobic, misogynistic or whatever. Many people do things that are ‘out-of-character’. Not everyone who does something wrong is a bad person, though surely some are.

I am going to be discussing misogyny, and specifically misogynistic thoughts, words and actions. I do not mean to suggest that anyone who does or has done these things is a monster. In fact, my aim is therapeutic; my hope is that by discussing and understanding the root of misogynistic behavior, people who want to avoid it can do so. If you’re worried about your soul, it means you still have one. My goal is to help you be your own savior.

It is the pain of knowing that in both fantasy and the real world women’s happiness does not turn on men’s favor that is often the root of misogyny.

In the opening scenes of ‘Barbie’ we are introduced to Barbieland, an idealized world in which women are everything; not just presidents and noble prize winners, but happy and safe. Importantly, this physical and emotional security exists irrespective of the Kens. Barbie has a great day every day, Ken only has a great day if Barbie looks at him.

Interestingly, even in this idealized world, Ken is tormented by his lack of positive relation to Barbie. Comedically, he attempts to remedy this lack by risking, and ultimately hurting, himself. Like a petulant child, Ken does get some attention for acting out, but not the kind he wants. In our world, men are equally tormented by their lack of positive relation to women. Unlike Barbieland, men in our world attempt to remedy the pain of this lack by hurting women. It is the pain of knowing that in both fantasy and the real world women’s happiness does not turn on men’s favor that is often the root of misogyny. 

Lately, a popular attitude is “do you and f*ck what people think.” This sounds nice but it is psychologically unviable. People have basic needs. Food and water unobjectionably fits this criteria. Contemporary research^[2]specifically the empirical findings of Self-Determination Theory or ‘SDT’. See https://selfdeterminationtheory.org/ to learn more. suggests that, across cultures, ages, races, genders, economic classes and every other conceivable division of people, all people have basic psychological needs. Where these needs are not met, people will suffer. This suffering is manifested in a withdrawal from basic human actives. Where these need are met, people will flourish. One of these needs is positive relatedness.^[3]The others are autonomy and competence.  People need to be, or at least feel that they are, positively related to others. 

Just Ken liking himself is not, despite the pithy slogan, kenough.

Some consider people’s need for positive relatedness to be a bug, rather than a feature.^[4]One of my favorite philosophers, Friedrich Nietzsche, probably falls into this camp, as does novelist Ayn Rand, economist Friedrich Hayek, and most classically liberal and libertarian-minded people. If one understands humans as fundamentally individual, the need for positive relatedness is confusing, and maladaptive. However, if we understand humans as fundamentally communal animals—meaning that we do better together than we do alone—then the desire and drive to positively relate is plainly adaptive.

This is not to suggest that anyone owes anyone else positive relations. I am not saying that women should positively relate to men, or that Barbie should love Ken. Far from it. I am suggesting that Ken’s desire to be liked is a good thing. Ideally it motivates him to be the kind of person that people generally like; kind, honest, caring, helpful, or at the very least, funny. I am also suggesting that just Ken liking himself is not, despite the pithy slogan, kenough. 

Like many psychological drives, the drive to positively relate to others has healthy and unhealthy expression. Healthy expression involves identifying a group with which one would like to positively relate, and developing oneself into the kind of person with which that group will positively relate.^[5] There is an interesting question of ‘notional community’. Possibly, it is enough to positively relate to an imagined community when one cannot positively relate to their actual community. … Continue reading Unhealthy expression involves getting angry that a given group does not accept you, or feeling negatively about yourself because a given group doesn’t like you.    

Of course, healthy expression of any drive is easier said than done. One can probably convince themselves to think, say, and do things that would win the approval of nebbish incels. Despite meeting the need for positive relatedness, I doubt such approval is a good thing. 

This is typically how men respond to the pain of rejection—by attempting to inflict it on others.

In the film, Ken experiences positive relatedness when a woman in the real world asks him for the time. He feels, for the first time, respected. He then attempts to rebuild the elements of the real world that convey that (undeserved) respect—patriarchy—in Barbieland. The results are disastrous; Despite his efforts, Ken only manages to alienate Barbie even further. 

Here, the story gets a little odd. In the film, Ken attempts to make Barbie feel the same pain of rejection that she “made” him feel. (Again, I am not suggesting that Barbie is criticizable for her role in Ken’s feeling this way, but I do insist that she played a role.) There isn’t much explanation given as to why Ken would attempt to hurt Barbie, rather than woo her. Perhaps his mink coat and gold watches are supposed to do just that, but clearly Barbie feels a greater affinity for people who do admirable things, like the other Barbies, than mere material goods. Maybe Ken isn’t smart enough the figure that out. Maybe he should’ve grabbed How to Win Friends and Influence People instead of Horses. 

Most likely no explanation is needed because this is typically how men respond to the pain of rejection—by attempting to inflict it on others. It’s just so ubiquitous that it would actually be weird to portray it any other way.

Any woman with a fitness-oriented social media account has first hand experience of the following phenomena: “Reply guy” replies to story, or sends a DM. When the content creator doesn’t respond, or doesn’t respond in the way he wants, he calls her vile names.

The phenomena is not not limited to the chronically online. I once worked with a man who was so incensed that a female co-worker was not romantically interested in him after a few dates that he refused to even speak to her for a while. When he finally did, it was with enough vitriol and disrespect that he got himself fired. Bear in mind, the woman he held in such contempt was one he previously saw as a fitting object of romantic interest! Of course, she didn’t change in the intervening period. He did. This is a prime example of unhealthy expression of the frustrated desire to be liked.^[6]Most likely, continuing to send replies and messages, even if they aren’t vitriolic, is not much better.  

Life isn’t always about feeling good. 

When I was a child my mother told me, “some people just aren’t going to like you no matter what you do.” This was a hard lesson, and in no way comforting, but it was still true and it’s being true made it useful. So take it from momma, fellas: Sometimes, no matter what you do, a woman, or even all women, aren’t going to like you. And it’s going to hurt. That’s just how life is sometimes, painful. Being a good man, and indeed a good person, means dealing with that pain and letting it stop with you. Being a bad man, and indeed a bad person, means multiplying that pain and pushing it onto others. All the hate and violence you can muster will not make you feel better. And that’s because life isn’t always about feeling good. 

One thing that is helpful when dealing with pain, whether physical or emotional, is to express it. Even if it’s just to yourself, it is ok to say, “I feel hurt that I am not loved by this person.” Probably, assuming she’s a complete stranger, just saying it out loud might help you understand how ridiculous it is to even feel that way. I am not saying you are ridiculous for feeling that way. You are normal and human for feeling that way. But it’s still silly. Feeling silly things is not one of the glories of being human. If you’re up for it, tell one of your bros. They might make fun of you, but I guarantee they know exactly what you’re feeling. If you don’t have a bro to tell, you can tell me. I get it.   

Another good anathema to pain is distraction. If you’re feeling the pain of rejection, go do something. Go outside. Go to the gym. Write an essay like this one. Learn to ride a horse. Let a guy on YouTube teach you how to rebuild an engine. Memorize the first 50 Roman Emperors in order, and a fun fact about each. Listen to early 2000s pop-punk. Write an early 2000s pop-punk song. Listen to Beethoven’s 3rd Symphony. Write a symphony. Watch a Scorsese movie. Start a podcast about Scorsese movies. Do literally anything besides take that pain out on someone else. You will be shocked how much motivation and production you can squeeze out of a little bit of negative emotion, if you try.

While I see value in acknowledging and discussing that pain, I see no value in pathologizing it.

Some will observe that “go to therapy” is notably absent from my list of suggestions. This is deliberate. One of my main points is that the pain of feeling undesired is totally normal and in fact adaptive, even when directed towards an unreasonable target, like a stranger on the internet. While I see value in acknowledging and discussing that pain, I see no value in pathologizing it. I expect to receive some flak from the ‘therapism’ crowd. So be it.

Like ‘Barbie’ I don’t have a happy, feel-good, fairytale ending for the Kens of the world. I don’t have a foolproof method for getting people to like you, especially women, and I don’t have any salve for the the pain of rejection. All I can say is, I feel it too. We all do. All we can do is be the best possible versions of ourselves, and hope that some day, someone notices. If not, we can crawl into our graves knowing that we have done nothing less than our absolute best, and no one and nothing can take that from you. Hey, at least you didn’t devote your life to developing a super weapon that murdered hundreds of thousands of civilians. If you want to feel better about yourself, go watch that movie. Could be worse.

Last week^[1]ok, like two months ago. I talked about when an apology was necessary and appropriate. Leaning heavily on Dr. Pamela Hieronymi’s “Articulating an Uncompromising Forgiveness,” I argued that the action or behavior must be (i) a serious moral wrong, (ii) by a legitimate moral agent, (iii) directed at another who ought not be wronged. I gave some examples of actions that might seem like they warrant an apology that actually don’t. This week, I’ll argue that anything that wants to call itself an apology must preserve the three conditions listed above. I’ll call out some common types of apologies that fail to be “genuine” (fail to meet the conditions) and finally talk about what a good, genuine apology looks like.

Oftentimes when people attempt to apologize, what they are actually saying is that the situation in question doesn’t meet the three criteria, that it isn’t something that warrants an apology.

The most common false apology, at least in my experience, attempts to reject (i) by way of explanation. “The reason why I did x was because…” What this false apology is attempting to do is establish that the action had a sufficient and reasonable basis such that the “offense” is totally understandable. 

“I’m sorry I screamed at you,” the false apologist might say, “I had just stubbed my toe.” The problem with this type of apology is it assumes the permissibility of an action is individual, rather than communal. Put another way, while the screamer might think screaming at an innocent bystander is ok because he’s in physical anguish, the bystander might (and probably will) disagree. Indeed, we generally say that lashing out at someone is bad. It’s only when we ourselves are doing the lashing that we find a way to justify otherwise reprehensible behavior.

A popular term for this kind of apology is “gaslighting.” If you pay attention, most apologies you give and receive will follow this structure. Someone does something wrong, they realize it is wrong, and then they give the reasons why they (possibly only allegedly) thought it was right. In my opinion this is not only a false apology, but the opposite of an apology. It admits of no wrong. It cares little for the wronged. 

Another common type of “apology” is one that rejects (ii), arguing that the agent is not sufficiently responsible. “I’m sorry I ate the last piece of wedding cake from the freezer,” this type of apologist might say, “I was so drunk last night.” Or, in another variation, “you shouldn’t be mad at him for not showing up,” a well-intentioned friend may insist, “he’s such a flake, he does this all the time.” This type of apology (or appeal for forgiveness) is equally callous towards the wrong and the wronged as the explanation type above. Even if we were to excuse the behaviors of a drunk on the basis that they are intoxicated, does being drunk make the fact that the last keepsake of a beautiful memory was consumed less painful? I argue that it does not. 

Furthermore, as I argued last week, appeals for forgiveness of this type deny the humanity of the individual, which is a fundamental moral error.^[2]I could say much more about the moral imperative of honoring humanity. For me it’s something like the a priori grounding for morality, similar to Kant’s categorical imperative or one of … Continue reading As I discussed in my last post, to reduce someone to below the status of a moral agent is convenient and effective, but it does not constitute forgiveness. Recalling the proverbial scorpion and the frog, that it’s in the scorpion’s nature to sting doesn’t negate the harm caused by stinging. Additionally, we are not scorpions. We are people. We contain multitudes, including a wide range of possible behaviors and attitudes, many of which are at our discretion. 

Another type of apology which I find entirely loathsome is the meta-apology. “Please pretend this never happened,” or “Please treat me the same as before I did the thing,” or even “Please feel bad for me because of how bad I feel.” In this construction (iii) is denied, as the wrongdoer attempts to subordinate the harm caused to their own suffering. Imagine a friend betraying a deep trust by telling a secret. One might, in response, stop telling that friend secrets. “Please don’t ice me out,” the untrustworthy friend might beg, “it would crush me to think you don’t trust me anymore.” Moral harm is not a zero sum game. That the untrustworthy friend might feel bad about the consequences of their own actions doesn’t excuse or supersede the harm they caused. 

One increasingly common feature of our current social construction is the race to the bottom or “oppression olympics.” Yes, someone’s life might be hard, but at least they aren’t a minority. Or they might be a minority but at least they aren’t a minority living in Syria. The implication seems to be that because someone else has it worse, the bad in your life doesn’t matter. However, if I have a loved one die, the fact that you had two loved ones die doesn’t replace my loss, make my grieving easier, or alleviate my pain. Apologies of the kind that beg not be appropriately responded to are similar to this line of thinking.

Another flaw with this kind of apology, as alluded to above, is that it confuses response, the equal and opposite reaction to an action, with punishment. If I lie to someone, and they decide not to trust me, that’s not a punishment, it is merely a (totally appropriate) response. For something to be a punishment it must necessarily be extraneous, above and beyond the appropriate reaction. In the case of the liar, telling other people not to trust the liar might be a punishment. Or, in the same case, deciding to exclude the liar from an event would be properly understood as punishment. While telling others about the lair and excluding them from events might be prudent, these actions are certainly not equal nor opposite reactions.

Having established the kinds of “apologies” which fail to be apologies at all, we are left to ask what a good apology actually looks like, and what we must do to genuinely forgive someone.

First, a good apology admits that wrong was done. It doesn’t attempt to minimize or negate the harm done, but acknowledges that the harmed party is legitimately, genuinely hurt.  Sometimes, this acknowledgment alone is enough to soothe the one wronged. Second, a good apology takes responsibility for that harm. It doesn’t try to explain away or distance oneself from the harm, but rather takes ownership. Finally, a good apology doesn’t attempt to undo the harm caused. It doesn’t ask that if the wrongdoer say some words or does some action that the harm be forgotten. It acknowledges that there is nothing the wrongdoer can do to unstrike the bell, that the one harmed is paying, and will continue to pay, the “price” for the wrong done. 

A good apology sounds something like, “I understand why what I did was hurtful. I understand that I hurt you, and I understand that I cannot unhurt you. I wish I had done differently, because my actions caused you harm.” A good apology does not, you will notice, ask for forgiveness. Instead it creates the conditions whereby the harmed individual can have a good reason to forgive.^[3]More can be said about good versus bad reasons for forgiving someone, but I think this post has run long enough.

Understanding that a good apology does these three things, the wronged party has a good reason to forgive: because the person is genuinely sorry. Where resentment is the appropriate response to a false apology (the resenter insists that they were wronged, even if no one else acknowledges this fact), true apologies make room for forgiveness. Whether or not one chooses to forgive is another thing altogether.

By examining the different flaws in typical attempts to apologize I have hopefully achieved two things. One, I’ve shown the way to genuinely, powerfully apologize. I’ve shown that an apology is not a request for forgiveness, nor an excuse, nor a shirking of responsibility. It is an embracing of harm and being harmful. Second, I’ve shown when and why we have a good reasons to expect more from a pseudo-apologist, and when and why we should forgive. 

When we forgive someone for bad reasons, meaning forgive someone who isn’t actually sorry in the ways I’ve adumbrated here, we deny our own moral standing. We deny that we ought not be wronged. While this betrayal of self is convenient, it tells both the self and the other that it is acceptable to harm. By knowing when and why to forgive we can create a space that respects our individual agency while also making room for others to respect us in the same way. Apologizing sincerely and forgiving authentically allow us to live together peacefully and enrichingly. It is this mutually beneficial cohabitation towards which we should all strive.

Hasten the day.

Apologies have always been a struggle for me. Not only do I rarely feel the need to apologize, but I have a hard time accepting apologies from other people. My typical response when someone apologizes to me is, “what do you mean?” In the next two posts I will attempt to answer that question. First, I will identify the features of an offense that make it warrant an apology, compared to the times when an apology is unnecessary or inappropriate. Then, I will examine the different things (that aren’t apologies) that can be meant by “I’m sorry,” including “please pretend this never happened,” “please feel bad for me,” and (the one I loathe the most) “the reason why I did the thing was…”. I will argue that none of these statements are actual apologies because they attempt to reject the features that make an offense warrant an apology in the first place. Hopefully, by looking at when apologies are necessary, and what can be—versus what should be—meant by “I’m sorry,” I will make it both easier to genuinely apologize and easier to accept a genuine apology.

I will lean heavily on the work of Dr. Pamela Hieronymi, specifically her “Articulating An Uncompromising Forgiveness” (2001). Those of you who check my citations know I am a huge fan of Dr. Hieronymi. Those of you who watch The Good Place are familiar with her work; she was the ethics consultant for the show. This particular essay is, in my opinion, far less technical and easier to read than some of her more recent work.^[1]e.g. “The Wrong Kind of Reason” (2005), “Controlling Attitudes” (2006), or “Reflection and Responsibility” (2014). All can be found for free on her website  For those interested, you can access the final version of the paper with a free (or paid) Jstor account, or access the pre-print version without any signup or fee here.

When is an apology warranted? According to Hieronymi, a situation warrants an apology when three conditions are met: 

• (i) the act in question was wrong; it was a serious offense, worthy of moral attention.
• (ii) the wrongdoer is a legitimate member of the moral community who can be expected not to do such things. As such, she is someone to be held responsible and she is someone worth being upset by.
• (iii) You, as the one wronged, ought not to be wronged. This sort of treatment stands as an offense to your person.

To further clarify, let’s look at examples where one (or more) of these conditions are not met, i.e. situations where an apology is unnecessary or inappropriate.

First, times when the act in question was not wrong. Unlike me, some people seem to have no trouble apologizing. One of my friends often apologizes simply for taking up space. Whether it’s in her own home, in shared spaces like the gym, or public spaces like the sidewalk, if she feels like someone else might want to occupy the same space she is, however briefly, she will apologize. When I say to her “stop saying ‘I’m sorry’” I not only mean “you are worthy of space,” but also “taking up space isn’t wrong.” I mean, setting the psychological aspects aside, that condition (i) is not met. The same can be said for trifles like leaving the side door open, forgetting to put gas in the car, or missing a lift. In those latter cases, what I think people mean by “I’m sorry” is something like, “I acknowledge my mistake,” or “my bad.” Of course, taking up space isn’t a mistake, as much as some might feel like it is. In that case, the appropriate thing to say would be nothing at all.

Sometimes, though the wrong is grievous, the wrongdoer is not an appropriate moral agent. Imagine a child calling you a particularly heinous slur. While we might want the child to both feel they should, and understand why they should, apologize (because it is in the process of learning to become a legitimate member of the moral community) it would be odd to get mad at the child for not apologizing. Or, imagine a barking dog. While the barking might be annoying, inconvenient, even embarrassing, it would be odd to get mad at the animal and expect it to feel  (or display) some sort of regret. That’s just what dogs do, they bark. In either case, condition (ii) is not met.

I have a bad habit of reducing peoples moral standing as a coping mechanism. For example, if someone lies to me, I reduce them in my mind to the status of Liar. Liar, in this case, doesn’t mean someone who could tell the truth and doesn’t, but rather someone who can’t tell the truth at all, maybe even to themselves. Once I’ve reduced someone in this way, I assume that whatever they’re telling me probably isn’t true. This way, I am typically able to avoid the harmful affects that could come from trusting them. Additionally, I avoid being incensed by the very fact that they’re lying to me because, of course they are. Dogs bark, liars lie.

Practically, this approach is useful and reliable. Philosophically, it denies the personhood of the liar; denies the multiplicity of their character, and denies their potential for growth and change. Interestingly, there are some people who, despite the fact that they lie all the time, I still expect to tell the truth, get upset when they don’t, and get into trouble as a result of taking them at their word. I don’t know why it’s easier to dismiss some people more than others, but my intuition is that this behavior is categorically wrong. Perhaps certain psychological conditions can excuse an individual from moral agency, but the distinction between a clinically pathological liar and typical liar are blurry for me.

Finally, my favorite, condition (iii). One example of this condition failing to be met is when you deserve it. If I call someone a bastard, and they spit in my face, I don’t have a realistic claim to an apology from them. I totally deserved it. Or, if they were in fact being a bastard, they can’t correctly expect me to apologize for saying so.

I said before that I rarely apologize… and I don’t apologize for saying it! Most of the time I don’t apologize because either conditions (i) or (iii) are not met. (I do not think it’s possible for someone like myself to coherently reject condition (ii).) As posts like these probably make obvious, I spend plenty of time thinking about what I say, what I do, and what I feel. When I identify a bad reason or a harmful effect, I do my best to change. I spend so much time considering if something is wrong, and why, that I rarely do something wrong, even by other people’s standards. On those infrequent occasions that I do, I can typically point to a way in which the person deserved it. I’m not the nicest or most congenial person, but I am certainly not mean or cruel. Thus, I either don’t do something that is actually a moral wrong (condition (i)) or the person totally deserved it (condition (iii)). Yes, I am the worst.

For something to be unlike these examples—for something to warrant an apology—all three conditions must be met. While the latter two seem pretty straightforward, and I’ve given examples of when the first one doesn’t apply, there is a looming question; when is something a serious moral offense? Especially given the current popularity of relativism, it can be hard to give a definitive answer. 

Last year a student expressed some discontent during my weightlifting class. The specific complaint was that I mentioned a professional lifter’s marital status, and never (or rarely) played videos of female lifters, both of which amounted to sexism.

On the first charge, I played a video of Jenny Arthur and introduced her as national champion, American record holder, five-time world team member, two time world medalist, 2016 Olympian, and wife of Norik Vardanian, son of Yurik Vardanian. The late Yurik was (and is) known for his technical mastery. He coached his son, Norik, who is also widely regarded as a beautifully technical lifter. Norik coaches Jenny and that heritage is reflected in Jenny’s increasingly dazzling technique, though her lifting style is very much her own. This was not intended to demean or detract from any of her accomplishments, merely to gesture towards the concept of coaching lineage and some observable similarities between lifters from different countries, weight classes, and genders. However, I am not insensitive to the detrimental effect of couching the achievements of a woman in the history of a man.

To the second charge, it may well be the case that while I often played female lifters for my 7AM class, I rarely, if ever played them for my 7PM class. Instead of thanking the student for the correction and observation, or even just responding neutrally, I objected. I insisted what I said and did was not sexist. I then relayed the story to a friend who I knew would reassure me I was in the right. If you’ve read White Fragility, what I did was line for line exactly what DiAngelo describes as the “fragile” response. On that note, I don’t tell this story to elicit comments like, “you’ve always been very fair and non-sexist in my experience.” While that’s very nice of you to say (and hopefully true), the point if the story is to beg the question: Should I, in this case, have apologized?

Ultimately, I did. As is probably obvious, I still don’t think mentioning that one lifter is married to another is a moral wrong. It’s trivia, it’s cute, and it’s instructive. If my “apology” had just been that explanation, it wouldn’t have been much an apology at all. I would be denying condition (i). If I were a bit more callous, I could’ve denied condition (iii), saying something like “it’s my class and I’ll say, and play, whatever I want.” Thankfully, though sometimes painfully, that’s simply not the kind of person I am. So where is the genuine wrong? 

One of the things that people come to me to work on, and which I endeavor to teach, is courage. It must have taken a tremendous amount of courage for that student to push back against an extremely popular person in a position of authority. It was wrong of me, as an alleged leader, not to affirm that good behavior. Indeed, I should’ve thanked them for their bravery.

Additionally, it was wrong, or at least foolish, to insist that I did in fact play videos of female lifters all the time. When class is going I am mostly watching the physically present lifters. If one tells me they want to see more female representation on the screen, it would be prudent of me to take them at their word. They are likely paying much closer attention to the screen than I am, and I suffer no harm or loss as a result of playing W64 instead of M81. After a period of reflection, I rightly acknowledged that speaking up was brave, thanked them for making the observation and apologized for not responding in this way initially.

All of this is to say, the rightness or wrongness of my behavior was not obvious to me alone. It was only when viewed through the lens of another person that I could see where and why I was in the wrong. The lifter, who was much more temperate than I, graciously accepted my apology, for which I am grateful.

As this story demonstrates, when looking for for instances of moral wrong, it’s often insufficient to only use one’s own sense. Taking the viewpoint of the Other is instrumental. Much, much more can be said about the nature of morality generally. Some things might be wrong no matter what the opinions of the victim or villain are. Some things might not actually be wrong that the Other feels actually are. Committing to always honoring the feelings of the Other might tether one to a kind of political correctness that is, frankly, exhausting. However, in general, I believe that being sensitive to the claims of others are going to lead you to fewer judgmental errors than assuming you are always in the right; when it comes to moral harm, a false positive typically has a more desirable outcome than a false negative.

If the original question was “How do you know when something is morally wrong?” one answer is, “When the other person tells you it’s wrong.” This is not foolproof. After all, we can easily imagine a situation where there is a dire moral wrong and no one says anything about it. But, in general, if someone tells you you’ve done some kind of wrong, the action or attitude probably warrants some consideration.

This is not to say that every time someone expresses discontent with an action, that action falls under the moral scope. Again quoting Hieronymi (though this time a later work), moral demands are “the demands placed on us by our need to live peacefully with others.” Necessarily, for an action or attitude to fall under the moral purview, it must involve two or more “people” (some, like me, would say this includes animals) and there must be a conflict that aims at resolution. Merely establishing different points of view is not the kind of thing that can be considered a moral concern. I’ve now opened up a serious can of worms, so I’m going to slam the lid shut and save untangling this horrifying, writhing mass for another day.

Next week, I’ll talk about the different things people mean when they say I’m sorry, and why most of them aren’t actually an apology. I’ll also identify the necessary features of a genuine apology, and what we need to do to genuinely forgive someone. Hasten the day!

What do you look like? In the age of forward facing cameras we can answer this question pretty easily and often instantaneously. While the answer the selfie gives us is often less comforting than the image we’d like to see, any adequately kind friend will tell you the double chinned low-angle isn’t what you really look like. 

The mirror can give another answer, but only from a certain, head-on point of view, and only if we stand directly in front of it. If we took away these tools we could get a rough idea by feeling the contours of our countenance and then try to represent those fleshy undulations mentally, but the picture is probably going to be dismally inaccurate. 

Interestingly, that our conception was inaccurate probably wouldn’t stop us from being pretty confident that we had it right. This is the typical state of things. With no help from the outside we become entombed in, and by, our own opinions. Forge the chains of our own bondage, sort of thing.

A few weeks ago, because I have a thoughtful and intelligent following (yes, that means you) I received a variety of responses detailing what I saw as essentially three different schools of thought. I wrote about how different people can have different ideas of the same thing in a blog post here.

More recently, I wrote about the concept of common ground, the part of the Venn diagram where different opinions and beliefs overlap. This week I’d like to offer one more argument for the value of different points of view: a selfish justification of the value of the opinions of others, and how we can interact with them in a way that enriches us.^[1]Frankly, I find the egocentrism of this argument distasteful. However, I understand how it can be persuasive to a certain kind of person, so here it is.

In 1996, American philosopher Christine Korsgaard published her Sources of Normativity. While I remain skeptical of Kantian conceptions of morality, I found her presentation of reflective endorsement ( as well as like, everything else in the book) compelling. 

Essentially, Korsgaard argues that because the reasons, beliefs and opinions of other people are the same type of thing as our own reasons, beliefs and opinions, we should give them the same status that we give our own. 

While we tend to value or prioritize our own beliefs, and denigrate the beliefs of others (especially when the two conflict), solely on the basis that the one belief is ours and the other belief is not, Korsgaard points out that this is badly mistaken. The belief held by the Other and the belief held by the Self are the same thing, just a belief. Whatever value a belief has is found equally in both.

I take the argument a step further. Not only do I see the perspectives of others as equal to my own, I see them as enriching my perspective in a way that would be impossible in isolation. The perspective of the other person allows us to see ourselves in a way that we can’t otherwise, and without that added point of view, we are prone to error in the way we understand ourselves.

Beliefs often tell us more about the believer than they do facts about the world.

Consider an analogy. In the 1500s, the official state-sanctioned stance was that the earth was the center of the universe. While the faults in this viewpoint have been variously attributed to hubris, egocentrism or ignorance, I see it as a lack of perspective.  People of the day were not ignorant to mathematical concepts or the physics of heavenly bodies, but their point of view made it difficult to see how these concepts were properly applied. Quite literally from the viewpoint of the common earthling it looked like everything was moving around the earth. 

In the introduction I spoke of the challenge of literally seeing yourself, and that’s just the body at rest. To conceive of our body in motion is even more challenging, to say nothing of the self.

As any dancer, gymnast or weightlifter can attest, when you look in the mirror while you move, you will be shocked by how different what you feel like you’re doing is from what you’re actually doing. 

The “Self” in motion is even more tenebrous. As one of my favorite gurus, G.I Gurdjieff famously said, “it is easy to decide to change, sitting alone in your room, but as soon as you meet someone, the horse kicks!”^[2]Views from the Real World, 1973 Once that horse starts kicking, we are so caught up in its movements (I’m talking about flashes of anger and impatience, the spacey glee that comes from being complimented or praised, the psychic pain of seeing another being suffering) that we can’t really tell what’s going on. We are just “along for the ride,” emotionally speaking.

If you aren’t much concerned with self-improvement, or you think you’re just perfect the way you are, the fact that you don’t have a great perspective on yourself (and that other people can help with that perspective) probably isn’t something you’ll care about. In that case, I’m almost, but not quite, jealous.

Assuming you are interested in getting some idea of what you are “actually” like, other people are a great stand-in for mirrors and cameras. Equally you provide a valuable, prescient perspective to the Other. This is why humans are social animals. If we want to improve ourselves, we can do it best together. If the other wants to improve themselves, they can do it best with us. That idea that individuation is a solitary processes is a misconception of the term.

Like the people who have come to rely on the vague translations of an alternative sense, continued reliance on just one perspective will make you quite certain of the opinions you have on your motivations, faults, and virtues. Of course, that you are sure something is right does not mean it is actually right; Beliefs often tell us more about the believer than they do facts about the world.

One of my (probably many) personality flaws is that I can be kind of a dick. I usually justify this behavior by saying something like, “I’m just being honest.” When I justify my behavior I eliminate the possibility of changing it. Instead of acknowledging that I am doing something, I instead insist I’m doing something else, in this case being honest instead of being a dick. I am, essentially, denying that I have a problem. 

Of course, I would not want to stop telling the truth just because it’s hard to hear, but if my goal is to bring some value into the world by telling the truth it would be worthwhile to consider how and when I present that information.

When someone says to me, “you’re being a dick” I need to force myself to reconcile the fact that I am telling the truth and being a dick.  The I can ask myself if the two are mutually exclusive, or if the former necessitates the later. When I can accept both as true I can work to eliminate the one that I don’t like. Even if I’m not interested in change, I can have a clearer and more comprehensive picture of who and what I am in the world: Nicholas Novak – Truth Sayer and Real Jerk.

If we want to improve ourselves, we can do it best together.

In a way, none of us can be faulted for justifying our actions. That is just what human brains do. They come up with explanations and insist whatever explanation they have is right, so that they can move on to the next thing. To stop and ask yourself if you do in fact have it right is unnatural and sometimes counterproductive. And this is the trap. The more you listen to just the voice in your head the more sure of yourself you will be, and the less likely you will be to identify appropriate areas for improvement and instances of bad behavior.

In fact, I did not first notice that justifying prevents changing from observing myself, but by observing other people. I noticed that when people gave reasons for why they were doing something, they weren’t saying “and I shouldn’t,” they were rationalizing what they did. Once they rationalized it, they were pretty much guaranteed to do it again. While most therapists would probably disagree with me, why you do something “bad” isn’t really important, just that you stop doing it. If understanding the “why” helps you stop, it has a tertiary value. If understanding “why” helps you accept, it is without value and even harmful.

So, how can we do this work?

My personal practice when receiving criticism is to say it back, out loud. If someone says to me, “You’re being a dick,” I will say back “I am being a dick.” If someone writes to me, “Your writing is at once insipid and pedantic,” I will say to myself “my writing is at once insipid and pedantic.” It’s not that I take everything said to me to be true, but by saying it out loud I force myself to at least consider the possibility that it is true. If I am not able to consider that there might be truth to it, I will never be able to make use of the criticism I receive.

Hopefully the previous points already gestures towards this, but I am not arguing that every perspective from every one is equally useful, or even of use at all. Having spent roughly the same number of years in the metropolitan northeast as the rural south, one of my favorite ways to describe the difference between the two, in a thick Carolina drawl, is that “it’s not better, it’s just different.” The same can be said of the opinions of others. They are not “better” (because they’re exactly the same type of thing as your opinion) they’re just a different opinion.

If you are the kind of person who folds like a fourth grade love note anytime someone says something remotely critical to you this practice might also be a good anti-fragility practice.

Considering the opinions of others is not an easy thing to do. Much of the socialization that shaped the personality of Millennials and Gen-X’ers has taught us to reject alternative opinions and react poorly to criticisms. However, with a little bit of effort I believe we can all make practical use of the criticisms that are going to be leveled against us no matter how arduously we struggle to cocoon ourselves in ideological homogeny.

I don’t ask you to take something as true just because I’ve said it. Instead, I ask you to try it yourself and tell me if you find it to be true. Next time someone criticizes you, allow yourself to consider the criticism. If you find some value in it, let me know. If you find yourself more resilient in the face of criticism, all the better. Here’s to the day.

What’s Going On?

Earlier this week a drunk driver struck another car while (allegedly) traveling at speeds in excess of 150mph in a residential zone.^[1]https://www.reviewjournal.com/crime/courts/henry-ruggs-released-from-jail-after-fatal-las-vegas-crash-2471134/ (edit: this was later corrected to a speed of 127mph at time of collision). The collision started a fire that killed the other driver and her dog. Some eyewitness accounts claim to have heard the recently deceased screaming as she and her pet burned alive. ^[2]https://dailysnark.com/2021/11/04/victim-of-henry-ruggs-crash-was-alive-during-fire-eyewitnesses-heard-her-screams-from-car-2/ The driver, an NFL player, was released on bail.

Yesterday I put up a story expressing my confusion surrounding one aspect of the legal system, bail, and venting some frustrations about what I see as flaws in this system. The responses I received, which I did ask for, ranged from passionately sympathetic to passionately defensive. Across all responses, the passion was the common feature, which is to be expected. After all, who is going to bother responding to something like that unless they have an opinion they think is worth sharing? One follower even told me she was currently in labor while explaining her stance to me (congratulations, Allison, on baby Vivienne).

Why is it relevant?

This passionate interest is, in my opinion, not just the normal response to a maddeningly tragic situation. Recently, there’s been a fair amount of discussion around drunk driving as an analogy to support vaccine mandates. Don’t worry, I’m not going to mention anything C-word related for the rest of the post. I only say it to say, drunk driving is something that has been on people’s minds. Additionally, the perpetrator is somewhat of a celebrity, and there’s certainly been a recent rise in criticism of celebrities and wealthier people generally, especially the uneven application of social responsibility and written law to the “rich and famous.”

Less abstractly, New York State (where most of my followers are from), recently reformed (and then amended) its policies surrounding bail. I take this as evidence that the concept is somewhat up for debate. Currently, for most misdemeanors and nonviolent felonies, judges are “required to release people with the least restrictive conditions necessary to reasonably assure the person will come back to court. For these crimes, cash bail is still prohibited.” ^[3]https://www.brennancenter.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/new-yorks-latest-bail-law-changes-explained

In this post I’d like make some observations about the responses I received, some analysis about why they are important, and point to some (much more scholarly) work that is being done to address what some see as dire flaw in the system.

What’s my take?

I take a few things away from the variety and volume of responses that I received.

A.) Regular people (meaning not lawyers or legal scholars) have opinions on the law, and should. While I see expertise as important, especially when considering codifying something vague like common sense, I ultimately see the law, under democracy, as an extension of the will of the governed. What that will is, takes up most of the rest of this section. (If you’re only interested in proposed and actual solutions, you can skip the remainder of this section.)

B.) There are, even among non-lawyers, differing conceptions of what the law is for. I definitely fall into one of these camps, but I don’t think any of them are objectively right or objectively better than the others. There is one that I absolutely agree with more, but I understand that other people have other good reasons for believing in the ones they believe in. (This will be the subject of my post next week). Obviously, most people are not hard into one camp or the other, and instead hold a blended position. Additionally, I don’t take the handful of responses from my relatively homogeneous following to represent all positions regarding the law. However, if you’re reading this, I assume you’re a follower of mine, probably one who cared enough to respond, so it’s likely you do fall into one or several of these camps. So what are they?

Conceptions of the Law:

1.) Instrumentalism^[4]I made all these names up. There is probably a commonly accepted set of definitions for these positions but I’m really just trying to get this thing out the door. If it gets significant traction … Continue reading – The Law Aims at Some Greater Good.  I start with this one because it’s the most common response I received. Under this conception, the law is an instrument by which we try to obtain Common Good or Justice or Harmony or some other more abstract ideal. What I like about this position is that is doesn’t enshrine the law overly much. It sees the law as necessarily and appropriately revisable when and where it fails to achieve whatever end. The instrumentalist position is generally, it’s not good that Ruggs is walking the streets. Because I am a nerd and love D&D, I will make the analogy that this stance can be understood as a Chaotic Good stance. Aiming to do Good, within the Law if possible, but outside the Law if not. (I’ve made these types of analogies before. They’re imperfect but fun).

2.) Contractualism –  The Law is a Contract that Protects.  This one takes a more pessimistic view of human nature. For contractualists, the law gives people some recourse when crimes or wrongful harm occur, so that they don’t have to resort to vigilanteism. This way, society can keep humming along. Accordingly, the law doesn’t just protect me form you and you from me, it protects me from me, in the sense that it creates an appropriate, productive outlet for the anger and resentment I might feel at being wronged. What I like about this one is it acknowledges and accounts for the, let’s say, less ideal aspects of human nature, which I have to admit certainly seem to exist. If you’ve ever read any of the Iceland Sagas you can understand why vigilante justice is incompatible with society. The contractualist’s position is generally, it’s important that people like Ruggs have the possibility of walking the streets, though this instance might not be the best example of such an important feature. In D&D terms I will call this one Lawful Evil, not because I think its bad, but because this position sees people as inherently bad and the law as the best means to manage that inherent evil.

3.) Proceduralism – The Law Is the Best Guide. This one is similar to contractualism in the sense that it sees the law as giving some procedure or guidance, and sees that procedure as valuable. The biggest difference, as I see it, is that proceduralists aren’t committed to seeing people as violent creatures needing to be managed, but rather as emotional creatures that sometimes make hasty judgements. In this way, it is a little more sympathetic. Proceduralism provides us a dispassionate lens through which to view crime or wrongful harm, giving us guidance that helps us review each case as a kind, rather than a unique instance. Not only does this save time, but it (allegedly) makes it more likely that the law will be fair and evenly applied. We can imagine the law, for proceduralists, as a type of guru or virtue agent who understands our best attempts as ultimately doomed to fail due to our own flawed nature. Rather than worry about the best possible thing to do, the law concerns itself with the best that we can do today. The proceduralist stance is something like the contractualist stance, the best we can do today is let Ruggs walk free, but tomorrow maybe we can find a way to do better. In D&D terms, I call this stance Lawful Good, aiming to do Good, but only within the confines of the Law.

4.) In-Itself – The Law is The Law. I know I said all these stances were were good but I actually hate this one. Using the D&D analogy, we would call this stance Lawful Neutral. This stance is something like, the law says he should be free on bail, and it  should be upheld because it is the law. The circularity of argumentation drives me insane. There’s no real greater value here, the law is seen as sufficiently valuable in itself. Unlike the other stances, this one is pretty resistant to reform because it doesn’t have a good basis for reform. Where the instrumentalist or the contractualist can justify reforming the law as in service of some greater good (Care or Procedure), this type of person can make no such justification. It’s not important what the law is, just that there is a law of some kind. In ethics we call a stance like this “moral fetishism.” While I wouldn’t normally, I am going to kink-shame in this instance. Legal Fetishism is a Classically Conservative viewpoint, not in the sense of Republican but in the sense of resistant to change, wants to keep things as they are. I do not see it as having any real value, but there is an interesting discussion to be had around who benefits from this (and every) kind of stance versus who actually holds/supports each kind of stance. That is a topic for another time 🙂

Regardless of which school or schools you fall into (except the last one), observation of flaws in the system warrant consideration for revision. Depending on your stance, you might see this flaw as more or less dire. Either way, bail is certainly flawed. As I said before, I take the recent revisions to the bail system in New York State as evidence that these laws are flawed to at least some degree, so they are apt for revision. Troublingly, I see the revisions that have been made as (frustratingly, typically) aimed at short term political approval instead of any of the broader conceptions listed above. However, this isn’t supposed to be yet another post about why I hate politicians, so we’ll set that aside for now.

So, What’s the Solution?

If you’re interested in how the current law could be revised to account for this flaw, I recently really enjoyed Alex Guererro’s Law and Violence. He makes an argument that we currently differentiate crimes on the basis of violent or non-violent. According to his argument, many “violent” crimes don’t risk or cause that much harm (for example, two drunks fist-fighting outside a bar), whereas many “non-violent” crimes (like a single drunk driving 150mph through a neighborhood) do risk a significant amount of harm. Guerrero argues that we already make the “wrongful harm risked” distinction in sentencing and assessing penalties, so it wouldn’t take much work to introduce this distinction earlier in the legal processes. Potentially, an approach like this could provide legal basis to keep someone like Ruggs off the street while we assess how to handle his case, while still protecting less harmful criminals from the (potentially) predatory nature of the legal system generally.

It’s also worth noting that we do currently qualify some people as ineligible for bail, on a state by state basis. In New York State, minor, nonviolent crimes are ineligible for bail in the sense that you don’t have to post bail, you can just go and wait for your court date. Additionally, some heinously violent crimes are ineligible for bail in the sense that you aren’t walking free no matter how much money you have. Dzhokhar Tsarnaev (the Boston Marathon bomber) is a good example of this kind of case. Interestingly, murder 1—premeditated, intentional killings (like stalking someone before murdering them)—does qualify for bail in New York State. While that’s an uncomfortable thought, I do think there’s some basis for it (something like innocent until proven guilty).

Finally, it’s not exactly accurate to characterize someone who has posted bail as “free” to commit the same wrongful harm, or free to engage in the same level of recklessness that led to the grave, wrongful harm. In Ruggs’ case, he’s on house arrest. This seems like a good compromise between the concerns about holding some people for the (seemingly indefinite) amount of time between committing the crime and the actual hearing (which can be months or years depending on the tactics employed by the lawyers on either side) and letting someone go free for an equally indefinite amount of time.

So What, Who Cares?

It is important to have guiding principles. Ethics are supposed to make our life easier, in the sense of less decision intensive. We create some framework of right and wrong, and categorize actions accordingly. I believe this why humans developed ethics in the first place, so that we could make distinctions between right and wrong, and know what we should do, without having to spend hours per day pondering every qualm that comes our way. Of course, some, like me, are going to do that anyway. And some, like the Church and the State, are going to try to co-opt ethics to control people, to get them to behave in a certain way, regardless of what is actually right or wrong.^[5]you’ll have a hard time convincing me, for example, that masturbation has any ethical basis for being considered wrong, though the Catholics insist it does. If you have some time, it might be worthwhile to articulate your stance to yourself. The more clearly articulated, the more accurately you can advocate for your position, which is legitimate and worthy, by political means. Next week I hope to write more about that precise subject: your opinion, my opinion, why both are worthy, and how government represents (or, struggles to represent) these equally valid opinions.

Thanks for reading, don’t drink and drive.