I know I said I’d be posting next on You’re Not Listening, but I’m not finished with the book yet, while the piece below seemed ready to go. Hope you like it.

            In this post, I will discuss what has been called the epistemological crisis affecting the country. The credulousness of large segments of the American public in the face of dubious conspiracy theories, the unwarranted stigmatizing of groups of people, and mythologized historical narratives, along with an ill-informed skepticism about dependable data and scientific fact, offer challenges for all of us. Perhaps most of all, these are signs that our education system needs to change. Specifically, greater emphasis on critical thinking, on logic, on selectivity concerning sources of information, and on responsible citizenship is required. This is different from the pieties and political correctness that sometimes characterize our current system.

            Meanwhile, however, the problem will not wait for even the most expeditious and effective education reform, which will require years and even decades to take effect. Also, before we begin the process of reform, there must be discussion of the nature of the problem. I am heartened to see that this has already begun, and will here add my voice. An important aspect of this crisis is what I will term (not wholly originally and calling on another branch of philosophy to go alongside epistemology) metaphysical thought. Metaphysics is an ancient branch of philosophy that inquires into the nature of the universe. It asks the questions about what is there, and what is it like.  Metaphysics has to a degree been supplanted by modern physics, since some of the questions once left to the speculations of metaphysics can now be answered by forms of observation and computation unknown until relatively recently. Still, metaphysics has performed a service in humankind’s efforts to understand the nature of its condition, and there is arguably still a role for metaphysics. One of the reasons for the survival of metaphysics is that modern and contemporary physics have grown very difficult for the layman to understand. Most of us who are not physicists or cosmologists probably still think of the universe in somewhat metaphysical terms, that is in terms or certain general properties rendered in ordinary language, rather than through rigorous observation and demonstration. This metaphysical thought can be illuminating, merely harmless, or a danger. Metaphysical thought can tend to murkiness or deliberate obscurity. Its search for a hidden or underlying reality behind appearances can lead the individual, and even whole communities, nations, or movements of people to embrace falsehood. To paraphrase Samuel Johnson, having tired of the truth, they may betake themselves to error, mistaking it for originality or insight.  Metaphysical thinking may conjure a “higher” or more transcendent reality, a deep understanding that can only be experienced or intuited, never really proven. They are matters of identification, not proof or reason: there was rampant voter fraud even though no evidence exists; the earth is not warming despite the record of climate change; immigrants are ruining the country even though they are actually working and contributing.

            These kinds of thoughts and beliefs are enabled by and in part the cause of the education gap between American Republicans and Democrats, at least among white voters. In a shift from past decades, Democrats are now the better-educated party. Their greater familiarity with science and other forms of organized, systematic expertise gives them a measure confidence in experts and in science and makes them less vulnerable to the appeals of metaphysical thinking. Less-educated people may also feel a need to assert themselves by claiming to a special knowledge that is being missed by the well-educated, by “mainstream media,” by out-of-touch intellectuals who have lost an intuitive sense of their own identity and the underlying truth.        

Right-wing and reactionary causes have often been served by irrational thought and ideas. As noted by Jonathan Egid in a recent book review, metaphysics has been used “to cultivate a feeling of sanctity and sublimity around such notions as ‘nation,’ ‘race,’ or ‘historical destiny’ ” (London TLS May 14, 2021). They have relied on religious or quasi-religious rituals and sometimes spurious traditions. Eighteenth century politician and conservative political philosopher Edmund Burke praised “prejudice and prescription” above the individual exercise of reason. His writings have given a degree of respectability to conservative dismissals of science and expertise.  Reactionary movements have sometimes allied with religious groups to make their appeals, calling on theology and religious cosmology to support their own world view and agenda. Or they have evolved their own form of spirituality, again generally anti-rational, to justify racist or authoritarian ideas. A recent, typically rather louche example of this was the Viking-helmeted “shaman” arrested for the 6 January assault on the U.S. Capitol.         

            A difficulty in challenging such beliefs is that they are not based on facts or reason in the first place. What appears to have worked in the past is that metaphysical thought as a substitute for real knowledge has frequently demonstrated its own lack of efficacy. Movements based on metaphysical thought have generally failed to attract the “best and brightest” who might provide leadership. Their adherents, often motivated by feelings of resentment and inferiority, are also often burdened by social and psychological problems that can impair their effectiveness as activists. It may not be enough to wait for these movement to collapse of the own inherent defects. Patient repetition of facts and appeals to reason may work even with people not used to thinking that way. Some of us who canvassed during the last election may have had that experience. More of these conversations need to happen and, of course (to go back to some recent posts on empathy), we need to listen to why people hold the views that they do. There is a lesson there for me as much as anyone.          

Later: Back to Empathy?

            I’ve posted recently on the strategic empathy workshop I attended under the auspices of the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS). A further personal connection with the subject of empathy occurred recently when I purchased a book called You’re Not Listening: What You’re Missing and Why It Matters by Kate Murphy. I’d seen some notices for the book, most recently a favorable review in the London TLS, and I found a copy at the Strand bookstore on Broadway in Manhattan.

            There are a couple of reasons why I added this book to a growing collection of “pending,” unread books. In fact, I pushed this book to the head of the line, ahead of various military and historical works, a couple of novels and a book on writing a novel. You’re Not Listening first caught my eye because, at least in my own family circle, I have the reputation of a terrible listener. I’ve had various excuses for this. When talking to my wife, I used to invoke the “men are from Mars, women are from Venus” clause: the idea that men use language to communicate information while women talk to cement relationships. This excuse got fairly threadbare, and it was always a bit of a dodge. I’ve also told people that if I’ve been reading it might take me several seconds (at least) to attend to whatever they are saying. This excuse has some legitimacy, except that I’m a poor listener even when I haven’t been reading! I’ve sometimes thought to myself that well, I’m such an intellectual fellow with a lot of things going on in my mind, pardon me if I’m not that interested in observations about the weather, etc. However, my inattentiveness has caused me to miss out on some important conversations, and I have the exasperating habit of asking about something that I was told just minutes before.

            All of his adds up to the conclusion that I need help with listening. Another reason I broke down and bought the book was my participation in the empathy workshop. Listening is obviously a requirement for the practice of empathy. Reading may be practice for empathy. Reading may open us up to empathy with a certain group, for example, but for empathy with a live, present person, listening is most often needed.  The word “empathy” has several citations in the index of You’re Not Listening, and as a concept it comes up often under different names. Murphy interviews many people in the book, most with professional expertise in listening, whether in foreign affairs, politics, sales, hiring, polling, or focus groups (which appear to be an endangered species thanks in part to big data, a regrettable loss to Murphy and her experts).   

            Finally, the easing of the pandemic and of the restrictions on gatherings it necessitated is seeing us all get out and among others more than we have in months. I don’t think I realized how hungry I was for ordinary socializing and casual human contact until I began to tentatively renew these practices. I suspect many must feel this way. We are all a bit out of practice, but I think we also find that we may want more than a return to the sometimes perfunctory and uninvolved conversations of the pre-pandemic world. We’ve had a reminder of how precious is contact with others, that it is not to be taken for granted, that time is short, maybe shorter than we think. We have a lot of catching up to do.

            I’m about halfway through You’re Not Listening. When I’m done, I plan to post again on some of the key points in the book and maybe raise some issues for further discussion. I think it would make a good book club, workplace, family or community book.    

Next: More on You’re Not Listening    

       The equation of the military profession with conservatism was enshrined in Samuel Huntington’s 1957 The Soldier and the State, a book that continues to influence perceptions of civil-military relations. To be fair, there are historic and cultural reasons why the military profession and military institutions have tended to be conservative, but there are equally compelling forces pushing the profession of arms in the direction of liberalism.

            Why have military forces tended to be seen as and to see themselves as conservative?  In ancient times, military rank was closely tied to birth and social position. Military leaders had a vested interest in the status quo. Aristocratic commanders communicated some of their conservatism down the ranks, partly through the “glamour of class distinctions” which philosopher Kenneth Burke considered the basis for discipline in regular armies.  Class distinctions apart, the military profession sets great store by tradition and hierarchy. It often looks to the past for example, and it has made common cause with other conservative institutions, most notably with the churches, although also sometimes with conservative political parties.

Perhaps for these reasons, the armed forces still often attract people who might be called social conservatives: comfortable with continuity and authority, resistant to change and lack of order.  To speak personally, and as an American, I was a Republican for many years, a party affiliation that sometimes seemed the implicit home for the relatively non-political patriotic military person. What changed me was a combination of what I saw as the party’s sharp turn to the right, and a consideration of my own experiences, the deployments in particular, that convinced me of the need for liberal values in preserving peace. 

If it is the conservative person who is often drawn to military service, I would argue that the most important lessons of military service, properly considered, ought to tend us in the opposite direction. Soldiers (and I use this term in the broad sense of applying to all military members) meet people from all over the world, and they often come away with an awakened sense of a common humanity across regional and national lines. The soldier sees and experiences things that the civilian is usually spared. Soldiers of the past two decades have been deployed to places on the brink or over the edge of complete breakdown and disorder. Sometimes these conditions were frankly the consequence of military operations. At other times they preceded the intervention of military forces. In either case, soldiers often bear witness to the need for change in the status quo, for a diminution of the power of vested interests, for greater rights, freedom and opportunity for individuals. Often, it has been a neglect of such liberal values as individual rights and social justice that has pushed societies to the edge. The corrupt and authoritarian regimes that routinely deny these rights also often resort to force to stay in power, and they may give people no outlet but violence. Another lesson the soldier learns is the importance of peace itself, which is more than the avoidance of war. The high cost and frequent futility of war are things borne in on the soldier, who will often come to say, like Eisenhower, “I hate war as only a soldier can.”

          Thanks in part to all that soldiers see of a world in turmoil, alongside the conservative military tradition is one of liberalism. Soldiers like Lafayette, some dissatisfied with the autocratic ways of their own monarchical countries, came to America to fight in a revolution for a new form of government.   Marine General Smedley Butler blew the whistle on what he considered his country’s imperialist policies in Central America. Internationally, armed forces have often sided with constitutional government against tyrants and oligarchs. Also, military practice has changed. The old, top-down approach to military command has gradually given way to greater emphasis on teamwork and inclusion, as recently championed by such distinguished commanders as Generals McCrystal and Dempsey. 

Perhaps the most compelling reason for American military members and veterans to self-identify as liberal is the Constitutional Oath that defines our service. Colonel Anthony Hartle has identified the essentials of the Oath as a pledge to “constitutionalism, representative democracy, individual rights, the rule of law, and greatest equal liberty.” In 1789, these principles were radical, but nascent. Today, they are liberal, and endangered. Much of what passes for “conservatism” today is not a longing to return to Constitutional principles, but rather an expression of reactionary, racist, even atavistic cultural forces that have long held in check the aspirations expressed in the Constitution. This kind of toxic, faux-conservatism is on the rise worldwide. In fact, the same authoritarianism, often under the guise of “conservatism,” the damaging effects of which a soldier may have witnessed on a deployment abroad, might be encountered at home on returning to his or her own country.

  Soldiers are justifiably subject to some restraint in the area of political activism, but they are allowed to think, and with some restrictions to speak and to act. In Washington’s words, when we assumed the soldier, we did not set aside the citizen. Soldiers may express their opinions in the proper setting. Not all political activity is partisan. It is perhaps even more important for military liberals to uphold principle rather than candidate or party. Military liberals are not as outnumbered as they may think. They should speak up, in a manner informed by their service, in touch with the traditions of liberal thought, and consistent with the laws of their countries.

Empathy in Literature, History, and Philosophy

All engagement with literature is an act of empathy. By reading, we are concerning ourselves with the thoughts and lives of people we have probably never met, and in the case of fiction who never existed. The fictional characters, historical figures, and poetic persona about whom we read are expressions of our common humanity. They are the creations of the writer but also of the reader, and as such we may empathize with them very deeply. In order to enhance the ability of literature to develop our sense of empathy, it may be useful to “name it,” to explicitly ask ourselves and one another how this reading can expand our range and depth of empathy, and perhaps most important how it can develop our ability to practice empathy in the world outside of our reading. Some of the most valuable reading for empathy may be of works about people most different from us, and even neglected or even derided for some reason, because of their race, or gender, or sexuality, their temperament, and even their values. There may even be a special benefit to be gained from reading about frankly unsympathetic or dislikeable characters, even the wicked, those who appear to be without empathy themselves. We may have to deal with such people in the world of the living, after all, and we must know how to meet them and overcome them, if necessary, while perhaps recognizing some of them in ourselves. I will mention two examples.

In Shakespeare’s Coriolanus, both the cynical tribunes and belligerent Coriolanus fail to understand other people’s real motives. The tribunes can’t imagine anyone acting other than out of self-interest. Noble motives, observes one character, comparing the tribunes to Coriolanus, are as alien to them as the mysteries of heaven. Coriolanus himself possess a kind of nobility, but his unrelenting belligerence and self-involvement limits him as a military leader, and it is fatal when he ventures into politics.  His end is tragic, and the receptive reader or audience will likely experience the strong empathy and even sympathy with him that is typical of tragedy.

In the Herbert Read poem “Meditation of a Dying German Officer,” part of a longer work, “The End of a War,” the dying German officer is intelligent and thoughtful, but also a dangerous, murderous fanatic. Read was an infantry officer in World War I who had first-hand knowledge of some of the tactics employed by the Germans as they retreated in the last days of the war. They laid deadly traps for the advancing allies and killed French civilians who might have revealed them. Read likely found this conduct inexcusable, but his poem is an extended effort to understand why someone would fight this way in a war already lost.

Empathy might be considered a neglected subset or product of the ancient virtues of prudence and wisdom. In the Summa Theologica, Thomas Aquinas concludes after consideration that military command is an act of moral prudence. An attribute that distinguishes the morally prudent commander is that she will consider, not just her own military objectives, but the good of mankind. As I have written on this blog and elsewhere (for example in How to Think Like an Officer), literature and history are replete with examples of both prudent and imprudent command, Marshall and Coriolanus among them respectively. Aquinas also called for amity among nations in addition to legalistic virtues like faithfulness to treaties. This was echoed by Kant, whose formula for peace included open borders and limits on government secrecy, two practices which could contribute to empathy. War is the product of human relationships gone terribly wrong on a large scale, sometimes of a failure of empathy expressing itself in tyranny and violence, of a failure to consider the feelings of others, or even of a failure to see others as human and entitled to feelings at all.

 I’ll end with a few personal thoughts on empathy. The first is that empathy often requires that we let go of anger. In a time of maximum political divisions and social estrangement, this may be important to remember. It is also often necessary in war. Good leadership, as noted by military historian Corelli Barnett, is a matter of cherishing human relationships, even perhaps with an adversary, even with those we consider bad, whether in order to defeat or to redeem them, or both. My reading of military history has often given me a feeling of kinship with the soldiers of the past. I’ve felt their burdens, their pride and fear partly because I have experienced these things myself. Still, my own reading should be more diverse. I probably spend too much time reading about “military types” like myself! I will say that it helps to belong to a book club, which has one reading books that would probably not have been picked up otherwise. My current book club selection, a biography of Leonard Bernstein, is an example. Another was a collection of poems written by Navy wife Jehanne Dubrow, which gave me a perspective on military service of which I have taken too little mind. Writing as well as reading can develop empathy, whether we are crafting a fictional character, researching an historical person, philosophizing about the human condition, or rendering some of the paradoxes of our common existence into poetry. Lastly, a necessary preliminary to empathy is a strong degree of self-understanding, the form of knowledge most prized by Socrates. The posturing and lack of authenticity that may come of insufficient self-knowledge are surely impediments to empathy. Unless we have faced our own faults squarely, with perhaps some indulgence mixed with a desire for self-improvement, how can we understand and aid others? We’re all in this together.