Michigan Men, Morality, and Mentorship

I've been sitting on this post for awhile.

I constantly aspire to be a Michigan Man. Note, that I don't think I've gotten there nor am I vaulting myself atop some moral pedestal. It's just a good way of manifesting virtue in an idea, I think. That means nothing. Let me explain. As always though, a bit of back story.

I took a moral philosophy class in college, and one of the things I remember most was our discussion of different moral philosophies and frameworks. Basically, we talked about different ways people approach morality. Basically, there were three biggies we discussed:

Consequentialism - the moral rightness or wrongness of our actions depends on the consequences we create in the world.

Deontology - the moral rightness or wrongness of our actions depends on whether the actions adhere to some set of moral rules.

Virtue Ethics - would a virtuous person do the action(s)? If so, you're being morally good.

Now, I don't want to get into a discussion about the merits or difficulties with any of the moral theories above. Mostly because I'm only an amateur moral philosopher and can hardly go toe-to-toe defending one theory over another. But, I also wish to push these questions aside, because for one I want to discuss the practical matters of morality.

On that note, I'm a big virtue ethicist. And the way I kind of figure out what "character" is appropriate or what is virtuous, I think of what it means to Michigan Man. I think it means telling the truth and keeping your word. I think it means supporting the people and institutions you care about. I think it means giving back to the world that raised you. I think it means public service and service to one's family. I think it means having pride and confidence without being boastful. I think it means wearing Maize and Blue on Fridays at the office, during football season. I think it means leading for the sake of the team and not for the sake of leading.

I think being a Michigan Man means a lot of things, as you could probably guess.

But it's difficult to figure all this out. Learning what's virtuous is not a straight-forward sort of activity. It takes struggling and making mistakes. It's really friggen hard and time-consuming. For dramatic effect, though, I'm purposefully avoiding the key component of learning what's virtuous...

Mentorship.

Man oh man. How can anyone get through life, let alone discover what's right and wrong without mentors? Parents, teachers, neighbors, relatives, siblings, friends...all these people teach us about virtues and push us to discover these meanings on our own. A young child (or older adult) who has never seen mentorship cannot imagine the big picture or even how to function as a normal human being. I don't think we can expect kids to learn right from wrong without mentorship. How could we?

Mentorship is a sacred passing of tacit knowledge from one generation to the next. For that reason, it's not just a relationship between a mentor and a mentee...it's a relationship between a mentee and all the mentors that have come before him, since the beginning of time. A good mentor, from atop the shoulders of giants, raises you upon his own shoulders. A child - or adult for that matter - without a mentor is not only at a small disadvantage, they are missing out on the support of people across the millenia. That's a big gap.

I also think about how one might learn or set themselves up to learn consequentialism or deontological moral frameworks. With consequentialism, you have to analyze your own action and with deontology you have to understand moral rules. All that shit is complicated. I feel like you could study that stuff your whole life and not understand or apply it in life. You'd get caught up in the minutiae.

Which is why I think mentorship is the only "practical morality" we have. It's our best chance of impressing moral values to those around us. We actually transmit ideas this way, and it fits with our need for human interaction and affirmation. Mentorship is the only way to inflect morality across the masses of people on the earth. And even though it's problematic, I think virtue ethics is the most practical way to interpret morality. Afterall, what's easier to answer, "what are the immediate and long-term consequences of my actions?", or, "am I being a Michigan Man?". Both are hard, but I think we have a fighting chance of answering the second question, because of mentorship.

1 Corinthians 13:11

So, it's kind of unexpected...I draw on the Bible for small snippets of wisdom sometimes. Nearly all of the passages that I think of often come from fraternity lore. I'm reminded of 1 Corinthians 13:11 today. It reads (King James Version):

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

And I think of this passage tonight.

Whether you know this or not, I often feel like I didn't have a childhood. At least, I don't really remember the feeling of my consciousness as a child. Maybe it's because I'm dumb and can't remember. Maybe I just led a boring life as a kid, I'm not sure why. But nonetheless, I don't remember the irreverence and gleefulness of being a kid. I feel the same today as I always have.

But today, I remember what that unintentional apathy - borne from ignorance - feels like, or, I want to. I remember wool covering my eyes. I can't decide if it's a good feeling.

You see, even though I didn't have a childhood filled with particularly tumultuous events...somewhere along the line I grew up a little bit fast, I think. Even in the past year. Sometimes I feel like a dad, like a man of the house. In college and high school, at times, I felt like an elder statesman. Lately, I just feel un-relatedly old.

And sometimes I want to reject it. I want to willfully disregard responsibility. I crave the intellectual, emotional and social freedom that comes with being young. But, I'm not sure that I can now. And to my brothers who have become men - either voluntarily or those who've had it thrust upon them - I don't think you can go back either.

[This is where the ominous voice in your head says, "sorry."]

I know I sound like self-righteous (duh, I always sound self-righteous) when I say this, by the way. But I really feel this way. I seriously feel pressure to stay in the saddle. Because the world needs boys to become men.

If I am able to, then why not me? Or you? Or us? Isn't it a moral obligation? And not necessarily an obligation, but almost a sacred duty? Isn't growing up a timeless way to honor the sacrifice of one's parents and mentors?

I think that it is, because that's the way to a better world...standing up tall and figuring it out. That's what our parents raised us to do. To be strong. To do the right thing. To work together with others for the benefit of others. To make sacrifices and take risks. The whole lot.

Shoot, I sound like a conservative.

Also, if you're thinking that I'm some sort of jerk for making this post gendered and that I'm neglecting the important role women have in being stewards of society, etc...save it. Read between the effing lines.

Having it all

I had a provocative conversation with a family-friend today. She's a medical resident in Flint right now and was telling me about what being a new resident is like and the sorts of challenges she's been facing. They are hard. Really hard.

Over the course of our conversation, she got to something I have been thinking about a lot lately: can we have it all. Can we live a life with a fulfiling career and a strong commitment to family. Can we do good in the world and still make enough money to live a secure, comfortably, plentiful and fun life? Can we make a difference in the world without compromising our integrity?

I've realized over the past year that this isn't an easy task, at all. The complexities of human interaction, especially when security of self and well-being is not guaranteed, are enough to topple empires if not handled well. Other people aside, too, it takes so much energy on the individuals' behalf. The prospects of being able to conquer the dualities I mentioned are slim. Having it all is ambitious, if not foolish. It might even be an indicator of insanity.

But as we chatted, I started to reject this. If we do, that is, if we have agency, there is no doubt that we can have it all. We can have what really matters. But it takes an incessant willingness to work, I think, and work smartly. It takes tenacity, a warm touch and self-awareness. Sometimes I don't know if I'll be able to manage it. But then I think, one must just think that they can. That they can claw their way to the great light. You've gotta. No matter how bad things seem.

If you want it all, there's no out that's required...there's not "option". It's a "you're in or you're out kind of deal.

Time to saddle up.

-PS, not sure how coherent this is...hopefully so.

"Real" life

On my way home from work today, I read this article in GQ, titled Boom. It was one of the more moving things I had read in awhile. I swear, the article wasn't shmaltzy, though it had pretty "heart-tuggy" passages. It was just raw, real and honest...and that's what was moving about it.

This passage in particular (the last bit of the piece):

"Shane always told me, 'If anything ever happens to me out there, you better fight till you're blue in the face,'" she says. Because if something ever happened to Shane, that meant something went wrong—something that shouldn't have gone wrong and shouldn't go wrong again—and usually it takes a judge and a jury to get that point across with any authority. "I want to be able to sit down with Blaine twenty years from now and tell him something really bad happened one night," she says, "but here are all the good things that came out of it. Here are the safety rules that changed, here are the regulations that changed."

But what does she tell him now? What does she tell a 3-year-old boy who'd just figured out that Daddy was gone when his truck was gone and Daddy was home when his truck was home, but now Daddy's truck is home and Daddy's not? What does she tell him when Blaine is playing with a toy John Deere and slips and bumps his arm and he's not really hurt but he's crying and he wants his Daddy? What does she tell him then?

She tells him the only thing she can think of. "Just raise your arm up toward the sky," she says, "and let Daddy kiss it."

And because Blaine is only 3, he believes her. So he raises his arm and says, "Thank you, Daddy," and sniffes away the last of his tears.

And, I was just sitting in my seat and I was just moved. Slightly teary, but most just jolted...like the way you perk up in your office chair just as your body loses its grogginess for the day.

And walking out of the terminal, I just wondered why. And this is what I thought.

It was just so real. It was honest. It wasn't manufactured, it was just a moment that really caught its own essence. It was like reality TV, except not on TV and actually reality.

And then I realized how sometimes we just want moments to be special, because we want them to mean something. Or mean something more...something that trancends the very moment that we're experiencing. There are times that we're deliberate about moments, we either make them happen or really focus on the fact that they happened.

But that moment, described in that article, was different. It was precisely real. Precisely real. Not just, "in the moment". It was REAL life.

As much as I like powerful, meaningful moments, it doesn't have to be like that. There's something about moments just as they are, that can be wonderful. They can be amusing, charming, emotional, funny or uncomfortable...just as they're supposed to be. And that they deliver exactly that breed of emotion - the real moment they're supposed to - makes them amazing in retrospect.

Those moments, though, are elusive...because it takes everything about the moment to be real, from the people to the context. It's like being silent with someone you love, in an elevator. The time that passes - all of 15 seconds - is almost naked and so binding...because those 15 seconds are exactly what they are supposed to be.

That begets the question, in my mind, what does it take to be real?

"The Lucky Ones"

Just fooling around with some words, a little bit...


And in their youth they hung off the precipice of what the world could be. Lining their dreams with magic and the begginings of things. Everything was dabbed with marinara sauce in those days. Optimism and iPods are how they made it through difficult evenings as they toiled away at building the world up again. The easy days were glorious.

It was uncertain what would happen as they aged. They did come of age in remarkably unstable times, afterall. Many of them had unfounded expectations, even though they practiced persistence. But their lives were good, as far as lives go. Others were lost - not necessarily in a physical way - and were the collateral damage of their generation. Unfortunately, nobody knows if it was necessary for it to be that way or if it could've been avoided.

The last of them did what they had set out to do...fixing the mistakes of their mothers and fathers. They had to make sacrifices and take unreasonable risks. They rebelled for the right reasons and were always tired, caffienated or both.

They were the lucky ones.

"Almost" stories

There's a day, coming in the indefinite future, where things will start to coalesce. It's a day where random occurences will contribute to a larger narrative, and won't be so random any more. "Almost" stories will complete themselves and become stories in their own right. Everything will fall into place, so to speak.


I imagine all this happening in a flurry, but I suppose I don't really know what it'll look and feel like. Maybe that day was yesterday. Maybe it'll be in 6-8 months.

Either way, I'm throwing a party shortly thereafter.

Thinking of camp.

On this 4th of July. I think of character. And character which is not shakeable, is not character at all. As a nation, as a tribe and as individuals. I've found it difficult lately to stay "centered" in this way. But at the same time, if we are not true to our character, all we have in this world is not true. So we must, whether it is painful to discover and exercise - or if is not.

This is what I learned at camp.

We felt pathetic.

Trading stories, a roommate and I, commiserating about a topic that's irrelevant to this story. But we felt that way, nonetheless.

The stories were wrenching, for us, emotionally. And, we feel that way about other things too - I think we find ourselves in this predicament of feeling pathetic, precisely because we're willing to take risks in social and emotional matters. In essence, we feel pathetic, because we take on tough cookies and struggle.

I don't write this to garner some sort of pity party, by the way.

Rather, the point of me writing this is to say that I don't think it's pathetic at all. Even though I feel that way, often. We shouldn't feel pathetic because we live life in a way that gets us into tough spots beause we put it all out there. We put our hats into the ring and leave all our cards on the table, so to speak. That's not lame. It's the stuff that underwrites dream-chasing.

Indeed, non-bearers of social risk aren't pathetic either. However, if we lack people willing to take social and emotional risks, we as a society are surely lost. We should not feel pathetic for doing things which are hard. We cannot.

Satyam Vada, Dharman Chara

I've been thinking for many weeks now about why I believe in honesty. I've run into walls for two reasons. First, I find myself valuing honesty because if one is not honest, bad things happen. Second, I find myself valuing honesty because good thing happen if one is honest. These are fine, but their valuing honesty on the basis of utility.

I don't want to do that.

I want to find the intrinsic value of honesty. I believe in it because of it's very essence and I want to define that. I think I may have found an angle:

Honesty is sacred.

I believe in honesty because it is sacred. It is the glue that holds human bonds together. It is the basis of trust and one of the ultimate affirmations a person can bestoy to somebody else.

Honesty is a choice. When one is honest they are respecting life and reality for what it is. They are recognizing their existence. They are absorbing life purely. When acting honestly it builds trust among people. In fact, I'd say honesty is an absolutely essential to relationships - it's an infrastructure for human interaction.

It's an ultimate nod of respect. If you tell someone the truth, you are basically telling them that they matter enough to hear the truth. That they are capable of handling it's power.

And, there's a certain raw energy in stark, unadulterated honesty. Honesty and the truth are fixed, they are absolute. The truth is the truth, if you get down to it. This is supremely powerful because it is fundamental. For that reason I think honesty has energy - there are no ifs ands or butts about it, it's just there and cannot be trumped.

Satyam Vada, dharmam chara. This is a phrase describing the ultimate axiom of hindu morality - tell the truth, do your duty. It's funny, I remember learning about this in Sunday school when I was very, very little. Now, it finally means more than words. They are so powerful. Honesty often in.

This I Believe, again.

I have spent much of this year reflecting upon what matters in life. Friends, family, persistence, freedom, etc. In other words, I've cataloged the core group of things that I value.

But I want to revisit an old exercise that I struggled with the first time around.

Backstory: one of my favorite things is the radio segment This I Believe. Basically in the 1950's - during the era of McCarthyism - when the nation was it one of its most fearful times, Edward R. Murrow invited citizens to espouse their deepest convictions on the radio. Recently, the program was revived because it was a time, again, where the reflection and sharing of peoples' strongest convictions was needed most.

I want to do this again, because the first time was a miserable failure.

I've parsed out what drives me, the heuristics I live my life by, and what matters to me most in the world. Those things are clear. Now it's time for conviction. It's time to cull out my deepest, innermost belief. (Note: that noun is singular, it has to be).

So, I will start off by completing this sentence. I thought it was going to be hard, but it hit me about 70 words ago.

If I was to tell you one thing about me, one thing that if you understood that you would understand me it would be that...

I believe in the power of Honesty.

Now, for a post in the future...what does it mean to believe in honesty?

-nt