Mixed Signals
The human race has been characterized in more ways than we can chronicle. We are the sapiens (grasping) species, which I trust has more to say about us than our possession of opposable thumbs. We may also be described as religiosus, spiritualis, moralis, ingenius (creative) and in these latter days of our evolution, inventus or technologicus. But irrespective of historical eras or cultural development, we probably fit best into another taxonomic classification: homo communicatus. We are not the only life form that communicates, but we may be the species that has taken it to its highest levels of complexity, and subtlety. To put it more simply, we are creatures who constantly signal to others our desires, intentions, moods and aspirations. We do it with words—spoken and written—with our clothing, our body language, even with our possessions. Our messages can be simple and straightforward, and they can be convoluted and nuanced. They are what make us so fascinating, irritating, aggravating, inspirational and even lovable.
Our signals express both who we think we are and who we want others to think we are. When another person picks up on what we are signaling, we sense we have been understood, giving us some satisfaction. That holds true when we are trying to be honest and our sincerity is acknowledged, and it follows even more so when we try to deceive, and someone falls for it. We connect to others through our signals, and we learn to become proficient in reading the signals others send us in return, be they authentic, sarcastic, or duplicitous.
“Give it to me straight,” the worried patient asks his doctor. “Tell it like it is,” the skeptical teens implore their elders. We all live by signaling. We trust that what we receive from others is clear, accurate, and dependable, just as we hope that what we send them is understandable. Sometimes, however, the signals we receive appear less than transparent. They seem to carry a hidden, double-edged or ulterior meaning betrayed by verbal inflection or nonverbal gestures that make the signals appear mixed, confused or manipulative.
Virtue signaling, a most recent messaging trend that social and news media have brought into our lexicon, seems to be the latest example of a mixed message. I consider it such because of the nature of what is intended to be signaled: virtue. How does one signal virtue without negating the very thing one is trying to convey? If I’ve lost you in my own soul-searching here, maybe this will help.
Our English word virtue, from the Greek arête, has a history that goes back at least to Aristotle who made it the centerpiece of his ethical philosophy and theory of education. This very word captured, for him, those attitudes and temperaments so necessary for people to live in a civil, orderly society. Learned rather than innate qualities of mind and heart, virtues were the essence of the life curriculum that adults were expected to model and teach their children if they were to become mature and productive members of human society. Aristotle was convinced that, “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.”
If virtues are habits of excellence learned in the company of those who embrace and embody them, then every generation’s charge is to adopt and perpetuate them. To be sure, not all habits are good or helpful. Some can be quite the opposite. What would make any worthy to be called a virtue? For Aristotle virtuous habits were those whose value came from their occupying that middle ground between the excesses and the deficiencies of human personality and conduct. He wasn’t alone in thinking so. Confucius in China and Siddhartha Gautama in India, living in the same axial moment some 2500 years ago, grounded their programs of social morality and civility in similar conceptions we know as “the golden mean” and “the middle way”.
Aristotle left us a catalogue of virtues that bisected a broad range of human temperaments, from courage to generosity, benevolence to wittiness, modesty to patience. Courage, for instance, can be recognized in those who can chart a course between the excesses of out-of-control emotionalism that leads to reckless behavior, and the deficiencies of fearfulness and self-consciousness that turn us into cowards. Likewise, modesty straddles the virtuous middle ground between exhibitionistic shamelessness and self-deprecating shyness. Friendship is that rare virtue we sense from those who neither flatter us insincerely nor abuse us with their mean-spirited invective. Temperance is a virtue seen in those who can follow the path between self-indulgent hedonism and self-mortifying asceticism. To be virtuous, then, is to embrace and express those habits of moderation that keep one centered, balanced and grounded.
Virtue signaling, as Oxford describes it, is “The public expression of opinions or sentiments intended to demonstrate one's good character or the moral correctness of one's position on a particular issue.” Whenever good character is in the mix, virtue can’t be far behind. Yet when virtue becomes a moralistic weapon to label and castigate, its signaling invalidates any claim to its being virtuous, rendering it oxymoronic and empty of meaning. Hubris, dogmatism and self-righteousness are deeply entrenched in the human psyche. But are they virtues? It would appear not, if Aristotle were to be counted in that reckoning. How could one signal virtue when in doing so one unavoidably broadcasts his or her arrogance and dishonesty?
Virtue is rare. Like perfection it is unobtainable, yet it inspires the best of our aspirations and emulations. Virtue signaling is much easier, and much more attainable. I suspect it springs from good hearts stirred by impassioned idealism about life as it should and could be. But inasmuch as imperfection, ignorance, fallibility and self-interest describe the human condition that all of us, both signalers and targets, share, virtue messages will be the latest, but, certainly not the last word, about the way things really are. Specks are always easier to see in other’s eyes than are logs in our own.
