Nancy E. Snow

Hope as an Intellectual Virtue

In the history of philosophy and theology down to contemporary times, hope has been regarded as a passion or as a moral or theological virtue.1 Here I propose to explore hope as an intellectual virtue, thereby following the lead of Roberts and Wood in developing profiles of the intellectual virtues as part of the approach that they call “regulative epistemology.”2 As opposed to analytic epistemology, which attempts to develop a theory of knowledge, regulative epistemology aims to give epistemic guidance about how to formulate beliefs and understandings.3 Virtue epistemology is a type of regulative epistemology that focuses on the virtues a person should have in order to be an excellent intellectual agent. Part I develops a conception of hope, and parts II and III outline respects in which hope so construed can be considered an intellectual virtue. Part IV concludes with a brief mention of some perils associated with hoping.

Generativity and flourishing

The psychological construct of ‘generativity’ was introduced by Erik Erikson in Childhood and Society in 1950. This rich and complex notion encompasses the constellation of desires, concerns and commitments that motivate individuals and societies to pass on legacies to future generations. ‘Flourishing,’ which means, very roughly, living life well, is another rich and complex notion, interpretations of which are found in ancient philosophers such as Plato, Aristotle and the Stoics. In this article I relate interpretations of these two concepts by arguing that certain forms of generativity can be considered an Aristotelian-type virtue, and that the virtue of generativity is necessary, but not sufficient, for flourishing in the Aristotelian sense. In other words, one can be generative without flourishing. The reverse, however, does not seem true: it is hard to see how one can fully flourish without being generative.

Positive psychology, the classification of character strengths and virtues, and issues of measurement

ABSTRACT This essay raises concerns about positive psychology’s classification of character strengths and virtues and issues of measurement. Part I examines the process whereby the classification was compiled. Part II turns to issues of measurement and questions about positive psychologists’ sensitivity to variations in the meanings of the constructs they purport to measure, both within and across cultures. I argue that attempts to find a ‘deep structure’ of the character strengths and virtues should proceed hand in hand with efforts to render positive psychology and its measurement tools more sensitive to variability in character strengths and virtues across and within cultures. The essay concludes with suggestions for future research.

Virtue acquisition: The paradox of striving

Abstract Aristotelian-inspired accounts of virtue acquisition stress guided practice and habituated action to develop virtue. This emphasis on action can lead to the ‘paradox of striving’. The paradox occurs when we try too hard to act well and thereby spoil our efforts. I identify four forms of striving—forcing, impulsivity, overthinking, and holding oneself to too high a standard—and explain how they can cause our actions to miss the virtuous mark. Though neo-Aristotelians can offer remedies for these ills, I turn in the rest of this article to explore an approach to virtue inspired by the life and work of Mahatma Gandhi. Gandhi stresses receptivity to personal transformation and turning inward through meditative practice as ways in which we can attain the inner states needed for virtuous action. In consequence, a Gandhian approach offers a rather different analysis of the paradox of striving than that given by neo-Aristotelianism.

Aristotelian character education. By Kristján Kristjánsson

may well feel that the current conceptual tool box can already do the job. I found myself somewhat sitting on the fence in respect of its value, curious on the one hand to what might have been made from a more thorough consideration and integration of concepts such as hysteresis, illusio and, perhaps, giving even more attention to doxa. On the other hand, however, I found myself nodding along enthusiastically to the deployment of egalitarianism as a means by which to make sense of dispositions undergirded by ‘what will be, will be’ attitudes, and also the ways the young people avoid the emergence of a cleft habitus. Most fundamentally, however, I found it more useful in attempting to understand the nuances of one of the key (but perhaps understated) findings in the book: the ‘ordinariness’ in the observed and articulated masculine performativity. Rather the subscribing to typical forms of othering or engaging in hypermasculine versions of problematic, protest masculinity, the boys ‘distance themselves from identities and behaviours they see as excessive’ (p. 125). There is some tension here in that the boys are perceived ‘to object to non-normative white masculine behaviours’ (p. 128) and simultaneously – though not explored for readers through the empirical data – cast suspicions towards the enactment of ‘Emo’ identity among some other school boys. The workingclass boys in the study are thus ultimately positioned as being heteronormative in the performance of their gender identity, and yet their pathologising of hypermasculinity as inauthentic and their valorising of ‘being yourself’ speaks to a version of masculinity that might be more inclusive, or indeed egalitarian, than the key tenets of hegemonic masculinity, which has been so dominantly portrayed until relatively recently in educational research. Stahl’s book is to be commended for being an engaging and scholarly enterprise as well as for its efforts to be theoretically innovative. It is a worthy contribution to ongoing debates and might form part of the answers to much bigger conceptual questions that, in my view, educational researchers need to more readily engage with: What is meant by working class? What is aspiration? And, importantly, what do we actually mean by neoliberalism?

Response to My Commentators.

In this article I respond to the commentators on my Kohlberg Memorial Lecture.

“May You Live in Interesting Times”: Moral Philosophy and Empirical Psychology

The Moral Psychology Handbook is a contribution to a relatively new genre of philosophical writing, the “handbook.” In the first section, I comment on an expectation about handbooks, namely that handbooks contain works representative of a field, and raise concerns about The Moral Psychology Handbook in this regard. In the rest of the article I comment in detail on two Handbook articles, “Moral Motivation” by Timothy Schroeder, Adina Roskies, and Shaun Nichols, and “Character” by Maria W. Merritt, John M. Doris, and Gilbert Harman. Both articles illustrate the perils as well as the promise of reliance on empirical studies for philosophers who work in moral psychology.

Virtue and the Oppression of Women

Men do not want solely the obedience of women; they want their sentiments. All men, except the most brutish, desire to have, in the woman most nearly connected with them, not a forced slave but a willing one, not a slave merely, but a favourite. They have therefore put everything in practice to enslave their minds. The masters of all other slaves rely, for maintaining obedience, on fear; either fear of themselves, or religious fears. The masters of women wanted more than simple obedience, and they turned the whole force of education to effect their purpose. All women are brought up from the very earliest years in the belief that their ideal of character is the very opposite to that of men; not self-will, and government by self-control, but submission, and yielding to the control of others. All the moralities tell them that it is the duty of women, and all the current sentimentalities that it is their nature, to live for others; to make complete abnegation of themselves, and to have no life but in their affections.— John Stuart Mill, The Subjection of Women.