One of the topics I used to enjoy teaching to A Level Philosophy students was Aristotle’s Virtue Ethics. Until the introduction of Aristotle into their ethical education, my Philosophy students had been used to thinking of Ethics as the study of which actions are good or bad. Is killing ever morally permitted? Is stealing always wrong? and so forth. On this view, moral judgements are episodic and somewhat disjointed. By contrast, Aristotle focuses the lens of morality on individuals’ character rather than the actions they perform. Instead of zooming in on one particular action to assess its morality, Aristotle encourages a broader assessment of personal qualities. What are the virtues we should cultivate as we strive to mature morally? In an attempt to nurture a modicum of interest in this topic, I used to ask students to come up with a list of the personal qualities they admire most. The ensuing discussion never failed to be fascinating and I always intended to dedicate some time to compiling my own list but I never had the time. We seem to live in a time when lunatics abound and many of those in positions of influence are lacking in admirable qualities, so turning some attention to the best of humanity feels like an antidote of sorts.
I think that kindness is often overlooked as a slightly timid, placid quality. It’s easily conflated with niceness, which is practically a synonym for boring. But the sort of kindness I admire is a quietly bold and steadfast commitment to making other people’s lives a bit better, even when you can’t be bothered or are preoccupied by other things. It’s noticing when people need something they haven’t asked for. Unlike qualities like ambition and righteous indignation, there are no prizes for kindness; it’s unassuming and sometimes unrewarding. Few people I know are unkind, but equally few are properly kind. Most of us probably fall into the category of decent, mostly friendly and often indifferent. I can think of friends who, even when they are struggling under the weight of their own burdens, will notice that something is a bit off and will take the time to send an uplifting card or a little present. Real kindness is when a stranger notices you struggling in a supermarket with three unruly children and not only smiles and asks if you are OK, but actually listens to your response and then carries your bags to the car with you and squeezes your shoulder before you drive off.
Self-belief and confidence are often touted as great qualities to nurture and they certainly have their place, but I’d like to make a case for the value of doubt. Doubt is not to be confused with dithering and lacking in backbone. Neither is it to be confused with wilful ignorance or a penchant for disagreement. I certainly don’t admire people who stubbornly dismiss the opinions of experts for the sake of seeming forthright or to stoke an argument for its own sake. But, a healthy dose of doubt is an admirable thing. It belies an appreciation of the nuances and complexities involved in most significant issues. To spend a bit of time doubting and pondering before nailing your colours to the mast is eminently sensible and it doesn’t happen enough. In teaching, I often had to temper Year 9’s vehement opposition to the moral views of Kant by gently suggesting that, after fifteen minutes of being aware of Kant’s existence, they might not have a full appreciation of his ideas. Instincts and passions matter, but it’s always worth thinking ‘could I be wrong here?’. I so admire people who have the humility to change their minds as they learn more. The most intelligent people I know are sensitive to nuance and they appreciate that they bring their own perspective to a given issue, meaning that there are important perspectives they are missing. It’s fruitful to explore those differing opinions in the creation of your own view. I wonder if Trump would benefit from a bit of research and voluntary exposure to challenge before stridently claiming to take ownership of Gaza and transform it into a holiday resort. Could it perhaps be a little more complicated than that? It’s just possible that he might have overlooked a few small points.
It’s so energising to be around people who are curious. Small children are a good reminder of the value of curiosity. Yes, it can be supremely irritating to be asked why it’s OK to eat pigs but not cats or how exactly electrical sockets work when you are trying to assemble a vaguely nutritious packed lunch from the limp leftovers at the bottom of the fridge, but it does serve as a reminder to approach the world with a sense of wonder. When you think about it, it IS amazing that clean hot and cold water emerge from taps. It IS weird to think that we are not in fact sitting still but are actually spinning at about 1000mph. Adults who retain a sense of curiosity are always interesting to talk to. It’s so refreshing to have a conversation with someone whose ideas are not stagnant, who genuinely wants to hear from you and who has pressing questions about even the most mundane aspects of life. Curious people are rarely arrogant and they remind you that it’s fun to explore the world.
I like people to be able to take serious things seriously, but that doesn’t mean you can’t laugh at those things too. Too much sincerity is a drag. I like a bit of irreverence. There is a delicate balance to be struck here and it is easy for dark humour to become nasty and vindictive. That’s no fun. But there is often a lightness to be found at the darkest of times, and the people who are brave enough to expose the humorous aspects of terrible situations are the people I like to have around. Very solemn occasions are often quite funny, particularly when everyone is working very hard to remain solemn. It’s such a relief when someone laughs. The best people I worked with took their jobs very seriously and had tremendous integrity, but they were also able to laugh at the absurdity of some of the situations we had to deal with. Moreover, some of the most effective opposition to toxic ideas and behaviour is ridicule. In my experience, bullies and egomaniacs can’t tolerate being laughed at. Irreverence can help to diminish those people and, in my view, it is invaluable.
Lastly for this particular list, I’d like to beat the drum for doggedness. People who are determined to keep going, to try again and to make the best of a bad situation are the people I like to have around. I think back to watching the 1500m running race on Sports Day when I was at school. (I was very much an observer rather than a participant in such events.) There was always a girl gliding around the track effortlessly like a gazelle, shiny blonde pony tail swishing in time to her stride. She would be at the front of the pack and it was clear that that was where she belonged. It was wonderful to watch such talent, but the girl you would really want to be friends with was the one looking a bit scruffy and out of puff near the back. She wouldn’t be immaculately kitted out in spikes and wearing a running watch and she knew she wouldn’t win, but she’d turn up to training and she’d give it a good go. As a teacher, I would encounter students to whom success came easily. Good for them. But the ones who I’m sure will be life’s winners are the ones who struggled but were determined to improve. They were the ones who asked questions others may have thought were embarrassingly obvious, who were brave enough to ask for help and continually risk getting it wrong by having a go.
So there you go. Kindness, Doubt, Curiosity, Irreverence and Doggedness. It’s not a particularly glossy list of qualities but those are my top five for now.
I’m unable to resist the temptation to give you my five least favourite character traits:
Pomposity and his brother Arrogance (assigning them male gender, as these seem to apply to more men than women); narrow-mindedness; sycophancy (in other words, creepiness); lack of humour; smugness.
Kindness would be top of my list, open minded, reliable, humble (but not in a creepy way) and humour in the face of adversity