What does it take to become a reasonably mature, reasonably wise, reasonably loving person? Inescapably, a great deal of time. Not just the years of cognitive and social development from infancy through adolescence into early adulthood—roughly 25 years from birth to the maturation of the prefrontal cortex. But also years of friendship, long hours of conversation, even the pause between hearing and speaking that marks the truly personal moment of really listening. In her 2011 book Alone Together, Sherry Turkle writes of the seven-minute mark at which conversations take a turn—the point when the usual opening gambits, pleasantries about weather or sports, have run out, there is a palpable pause, and someone has to take a risk. It takes seven minutes for a conversation, a real one, to even begin.It is at the seven-minute pause, Turkle observed in her lab, that many people take out their phones, implicitly signaling to each other that the conversation need not go any further or deeper, an exit ramp before the unpredictable and vulnerable words beyond the silence. That, of course, was more than a decade ago. What are the chances that conversations last even that long these days?...[W]e have let [technology] colonize places where not only is it of no use—there is no magical way to raise a child—but where it actively displaces and undermines the essential process of personal formation. We have let the magic of technology into the formative stages of life—infancy, childhood, adolescence—so that from very early on, many if not most children experience the seductive power of instant, effortless results delivered through screens and digital devices (and many battery-powered toys as well).And while these stages of life are singular and essential, magic is equally disastrous at other formative moments. A friend of mine found himself seated on an airplane departing Los Angeles next to a couple en route to their honeymoon in Hawaii. He observed with growing horror as the newly-married young woman opened up TikTok on her phone, began scrolling and swiping through videos, and did not stop, even for a bathroom break let alone a word to her husband, until the plane landed five hours later. One can only wonder how the rest of the honeymoon unfolded.
So we want to develop virtuous people -- the author says "reasonably mature, wise, loving." Development of any sort of virtue requires time spent doing the work. As Aristotle explains, virtue is a kind of habituation to doing the right thing that is achieved by doing it, over and over, until it is what you do because it is who you are. The reason that the US Army still trains its elite soldiers as airborne units is not because it plans to drop them out of airplanes into Europe or Asia. It is because Airborne school trains the virtue of courage. It takes courage to step out of an airplane into the wild air. Habituating soldiers to do that brings about courageous soldiers.
Courage is the model virtue for Aristotle because it's one that is easy to get as an example. Habituating wisdom (or lovingness) is harder to visualize, but it works the same way. The author has a good point here: we have to do the work, because it is only by doing the work that you develop the habits. Even if a technology came into being that made it easier to connect with and understand another -- perhaps some sort of mind-meld technology that let you experience the world from their perspective, thus shortening the process to understanding -- you'd still have to spend time doing it, and then time understanding and integrating what you'd experienced. You'd have to do this because they were worth it to you, and because you decided it was worth doing.
What this reminds me of most strongly is the old writing I did back when I rode horses a lot on the virtue of chivalry. This virtue, like lovingness, is about building the kind of character in yourself that can sustain a respectful relationship. This one requires spending time with horses.
What does it take to tame a horse? It takes courage, not recklessness, but that kind of disciplined and developed courage that comes from learning to fear being thrown, and getting on horses again. It takes self-mastery, because the horse is a prey animal that will amplify your fear. You must learn to ride through it, until even you don't really feel the fear in the same way anymore.It takes gentleness. A horse responds to the slightest touch. You must be sensitive to its movements, its breathing, the language of its body.
What does it take to ride a horse to war? It takes trustworthiness. The horse must believe in you to charge into the smell of blood.
It takes honor. You can't ride alone. You must build relationships with other men like you, who know they can count on you while there is blood in your body. There is your self-sacrifice, even to death.
What does it build in you to do these things? Some of the things have been said. You get the virtues you practice, as Aristotle teaches in the Nicomachean Ethics. You must have some courage to begin, but you will build courage as you do. You must have some self-mastery, but you will become the master of yourself. You must be gentle, and able to understand another very different kind of living being through touch alone. You will become moreso.
The habit of keeping your word is like any other habit. After a while, it becomes part of you. The habit of honor likewise.
Can you do without chivalry? I don't know. Can you do without men like this?
That post closes by pointing out that the real question is not whether you can do without it, but whether you can build it without the horse. The author here is pointing to a similar question about other virtues, humane virtues like maturity and wisdom and being a loving person. It may be that you can capture these qualities in other ways. It may also simply prove to be true that you need the horse or the other people to get the virtue. If so, making a society where we spend time with people at the right stages and moments of life may be a necessary condition to building a life worth living, or people worth living with -- worth living for.
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