virtue ethics

In this paper I have argued that the best option in this time of great moral crisis is a return to the virtue ethics of the ancients. Moral rules are too abstract and too rigid, and it is difficult to apply them to complex situations and decisions. They, however, still retain their normative force for use the application of national and international law. Utilitarianism, on the other hand, fails to distinguish between qualitative values of the virtues and external quantities of pleasure, and sometimes the hedonic calculus produces unrealistic and even absurd moral obligations.

As opposed to a rule based ethics, where the most that we can know is that we always fall short of the norm, virtue ethics is truly a voyage of personal discovery. Ancient virtue ethics always aim at a personal mean that is a creative choice for each individual. Virtue ethics is emulative--using the sage or savior as a model for virtue--whereas rule ethics involves conformity and obedience. The emulative approach engages the imagination and personalizes and thoroughly grounds individual moral action and responsibility. Such an ethics naturally lends itself to an aesthetics of virtue: the crafting of a good and beautiful soul, a unique gem among other gems.

What's next--a quote from Socrates, Aristotle, or Jesus?

Nope.

[thanks to Online Papers in Philosophy, a fantabulous site]

up in a puff of smoke

Angel McClary Raich doesn't seem to have much hope that her medical use of marijuana will be legitimized, Dahlia Lithwick notes. Drugs that destroy the body in order to save it are legal; for no good reason, a drug that helps far more than it harms is illegal. If we legalize medical pot, a slippery slope is inevitable, Fed attorneys claim:

Clement concludes his rebuttal with his best argument: California law undermines enforcement of the entire federal drug regime. There is no way to distinguish between those in genuine medical need and those who are exploiting the system. He cites a case mentioned in the briefs in which a man was busted with pot in his backpack, his pocket, his other pocket, and another pocket. And some scales. The appellate court nevertheless found that he might have legitimately been buying the pot for medicinal reasons; he was just carrying the scales to "keep from being ripped off."

I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

But one thing is certain: Angel McClary Raich should start packing, and hope she can find compassion somewhere else.

Update: Jason Kuznicki covers the breadth and depth of the legal aspects of the case.

Update Update: Jim Lindgren of the Volokh Conspiracy is cautiously optimistic.

this time, anyway

If you're concerned that the Mainstream Media (what we bloggers call the MSM) unfairly characterizes religious folks as ignorant, gullible, or ignorantly gullible, take heart: sometimes they get it right.

take a gander

As Ed Brayton points out, Pandas Thumb has a new contributor, with an inaugural essay well worth reading.

quibbling, as always

Via the Volokh Conspiracy, this blogger got word of Rolling Stone's pathetic attempt to list the 500 "Greatest [Rock and Roll] Songs of All Time." I won't comment on the stupid choice (#3, stupid!), and I don't have the experience (being a mere twenty-five years old) or expertise to discuss most of the rest (which I'm sure all deserve to be there, as influential as they are), so I'll limit my comment to the only album from the 90s to make the top 10: Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit," which sounds as fresh and shocking as the first time I heard it, way back in high school.

The eight-bar opening that blasts through the blues structure, Dave Grohl smashing the drums, the immediate hush to the first verse, the abrupt shockwave chorus, and Kurt Cobain's haunting, inimitable, indecipherable scream-singing....

And the words.

Load up on guns and
Bring your friends
It's fun to lose
And to pretend
She's over bored
And self assured
Oh no, I know
A dirty word

hello, how low? (repeated)

With the lights out it's less dangerous
Here we are now
Entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious
Here we are now
Entertain us
A mulatto
An albino
A mosquito
My Libido
Yeah

I'm worse at what I do best
And for this gift I feel blessed
Our little group has always been
And always will until the end

hello, how low? (repeated)

With the lights out it's less dangerous
Here we are now
Entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious
Here we are now
Entertain us
A mulatto
An albino
A mosquito
My Libido
Yeah

And I forget
Just why I taste
Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile
I found it hard
It was hard to find
Oh well, whatever, nevermind

hello, how low? (repeated)

With the lights out it's less dangerous
Here we are now
Entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious
Here we are now
Entertain us
A mulatto
An albino
A mosquito
My Libido
Yeah, a denial
A denial
A denial...

No song better captures the ethos of our age, or better illustrates the paradox that Kurt Cobain's anti-pop screeds didn't destroy pop, but, in their time, became it.

running sacred

Chris Gregoire is not alone. My brother quotes her recent statement:

"Voters have a sacred right to have their ballots counted. That's been our goal throughout this process," Gregoire said in a statement. "We want every vote to be counted. But that hasn't happened yet."

Amazingly, a quick Google search reveals that the phrase "sacred right to vote" can be found on at least 676 different pages (both in serious and sarcastic references). Turns out it's a feminist catchphrase that may have originated at the "First Woman's Rights Convention" back in 1848.

open letter to Christine Gregoire

Dearest Chris,

Tie goes to the Republican.

Your pal,

Jim

peril, grave peril

Gregoire loses again--this time by a mere 42 votes. Should she concede, or call for a manual recount?

Democracy hangs in the balance...

missing the mark

I hadn't even heard about it until yesterday, but apparently Target has banned the Salvation Army from bellringing outside its stores.

Now, I don't have a problem with Target's decision on moral or legal grounds. They have the right to allow, or disallow, any sort of solicitation on their property. If Target wants to brighten its public image, it should contribute back to the community the $9 million the Salvation Army will lose. (Target, it should be noted, is already a leading corporation as far as charity work goes.)

I have no beef with the Salvation Army, either; they may be a sectarian organization, but that doesn't mean they shouldn't continue helping those in need, or that they shouldn't ask for donations. No one's forced to give.

What bothers me, though: articles like this one, a kettlefull of overblown rhetoric.

Throughout the night in Uganda, thousands of children dubbed "the night dwellers" roam the streets in fear, seeking refuge from vicious bands of kidnappers. Despite their pain, hunger and loneliness, they are considered the lucky ones, unlike the other 20,000 Ugandans captured by Lord's Resistance Army insurgents over the years, doomed to a life of prostitution and guerilla warfare.

Thousands of these children spend their nights sleeping in churches and shelters run by non-profit organizations like the Salvation Army.

The Salvation Army is a humanitarian organization that relies heavily on its annual holiday drive to sustain these shelters. Every year, thousands of bell-waving volunteers take to the streets in the spirit of selflessness and generosity. They raise millions of dollars crucial for spreading goodwill to more than 109 countries and territories that the Salvation Army serves....

...we are left with only the facts: The Salvation Army is $9 million weaker today, and tonight, perhaps as you're reading this, the sun will set in Uganda.

This is an egregious example of the Appeal to Pity, and here's why:

A spokeswoman for the Salvation Army’s national office, Teresa Whitfield, told C&F Report that those interested in such an effort should contact the Salvation Army unit in their local community.

“The kettle funds are all budgeted locally and stay in the community where they are collected,” Whitfield said.

Perhaps it says something about Americans--or at least Michael Darling--that we have to mention Ugandans to get people to care.

reflection

A while back, after reading a thought-provoking article by Michael Beran, I blogged about poetry memorization:

Certainly, teachers need to foster "active" learning--not just passive acceptance of time-honored screeds--but memorization is a form of sinking-to-swim, being tossed into literacy. Constructivists tip the balance too far in favor of anarchic learning, where the desires of the child form the philosophical center, conflating wants with needs, and forgetting that any form of progress requires an attainable goal--an objective, not subjective, position. While ostensibly in the pursuit of self-empowerment, pure constructivism is self-constricting folly.

Over the last couple days, I've put theory into practice, with mixed success. I tried to satisfy my inner anarchist by letting students have a wide berth, choosing any poem or song of at least twenty lines. Most students chose good poems, but there were a few country songs in there, and some Silverstein. I realized, too late, that I didn't set clear enough limits on subject matter.

The best moments came when previously unrecognized students became stars, giving particularly dramatic or nuanced readings. Amazingly, even some of the country songs didn't sound too bad when read aloud rather than sung over a twanging guitar.

There may be hope for poetry in this world.

democracy on the march

They're cheating, Hugh Hewitt, and they're getting away with it!

"when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed"

Last night I dragged the wife to Olympia High School's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. As high school theater goes, it was pretty darn good--fabulous sets and costumes, mostly decent line readings, and a show-stealing performance by Patrick Rayment as Nick Bottom.

Tonight, though, the wife is watching Michael Hoffman's A Midsummer Night's Dream, perhaps to get back at me for making her suffer through amateur hour. Sadly, it's a tedious, despicable, melodramatic, soporific hack job that includes:

1. "Italian" characters speaking English (in either American or bad British accents), along with Italians speaking, of all things, Italian
2. Bicycles in starring roles (at least they don't act badly)
3. Rapid-fire, overly rhythmic line readings
4. Mud wrestling
5. A horrible mix of moods--comedy that isn't funny juxtaposed with romance that isn't romantic, followed by laughable tragedy and pedestrian magic.
6. A classic score, the only redeeming feature
7. Bare bottoms (and, worse, a bare Bottom)

Put in perspective, Oly's version is a triumph of adolescent genius.

how the grinch stole christmas

The recount won't be over until then, in all likelihood.

"Two coffins. No, maybe three."

It hasn't been posted on their website yet, but I'm hoping New Scientist will feature "A billion brains are better than one," in which Mark Buchanan delves into a topic I'd never even considered before: bacterial communication. I'd always assumed that bacteria are microscopic Yojimbos, beholden to no other organisms. Turns out that's not exactly the case; bacteria can communicate chemically in a process called "quorum sensing"--and, if one Israeli researcher is right, their language is "more than a metaphor."

Read up on the phenomenon at the Quorum Sensing Site, which summarizes it better than I ever could.

As Buchanan writes,

More and more researchers agree with [Eshel] Ben-Jacob's assertion that microbes have the kind of social intelligence previously considered to be the exclusive preserve of the most intelligent animals. Microorganisms recognise the social groups to which they belong, and readily pick out strangers who might pose a threat.

Too bad they can't sense when I'm about to wash my hands.

feed thy brain

Looking for enlightenment, but don't know which blog to turn to? (Obviously not this one.) Ed Brayton points the way.

information overload

Huge shout-out to PZ Myers for pointing his readers to Google Scholar, which looks like an invaluable resource. I've already started trolling for new works about the current Lincoln-Douglas resolution, and have discovered articles that aren't even in Proquest yet.

Some articles aren't free, though, so don't get too excited. But it's a great complement to traditional research venues. All hail Google.

it ain't over...

...'til the recount is finished, next Wednesday. But Dino Rossi, as I predicted, has won the first count--and if history repeats itself, will walk away with the win in a week. (Yeah, that's alliteration.)

I want one.

You do, too. Admit it.

too much to do

With a three-week hiatus from speech tournaments, I was supposed to magically discover more time, and thus embark on a voyage through the social contract (to discuss my brother's all-too-important, all-too-weighty question as to "what grounds rights"), re-reread The Open Society and its Enemies, revitalize bibliocracy (by actually writing about reading), and continue in my moral obligations to blog, to blog constantly, to blog well.

Alas.

A history prof I had in college once talked about having rocks in your box of time--the big obligations: marital life, family, job, etc.--and finding useful sand to fill the rest. Those are the intellectual pursuits I wish I were pursuing more. I've been plowing through all sorts of material on philosophy, morality, and global politics, but all in the name of Lincoln-Douglas debate. I've perused fine poetry, but for scholarly motives. I've kept up with current events, but mostly to keep my classes and my conversation fresh.

And now, my wife leans over the laptop screen and asks an imperative interrogative: "Are you going to make coffee?"

Yes, I am, even if it means unhitching from the cyber-wagon.

But I'll be back.

Soon.

Atlantis found!

Need proof that Plato was divinely inspired? Look no further.

Robert Sarmast said sonar scanning of the seabed between east Cyprus and Syria revealed man-made walls, one as long as 3 kilometers (2 miles), and trenches at a depth of 1,500 meters (1,640 yards).

"It is a miracle we found these walls as their location, and lengths match exactly the description of the acropolis of Atlantis provided by Plato in his writings," Sarmast said, referring to the ancient Greek philosopher.

"We have definitely found the Acropolis of Atlantis," he affirmed, adding the site was 80 kilometers (50 miles) southeast of Cyprus.

Darn--the news came in just too late for the Plato discussion.

Update: Brendan Koerner explains it (away?).