On virtues

Late last year I opened a long note, sent via an Enneagram WhatsApp group, on the gifts of all nine types. It was entitled “Beautiful Mysteries – The Gifts of the Nine Spiritual Enneagram Paths – from a talk by Russ Hudson and Jessica Dibb”. Each Enneagram type has its own virtue, which I sometimes think of as its particular “flavour” of self-realisation. This note described gifts almost as the basis for, or particular expression of, the virtues. For example, the virtue of Type One is Serenity; Serenity is defined as being at peace with all that is; and the gift of Type One is the ability to see essential goodness (or sacredness, or even perfection) in everything.

Those who know the Enneagram will also know that each type has what is known as its line of integration. This might be considered as a sort of “aspirational” link to the higher qualities of another type (Type Six, for instance, integrates to Nine). With virtues and gifts on the one hand, and lines of integration on the other, one might wonder whether we are supposed to aspire towards the virtues of our own Type, or the highest version of our integration point type (Six, or Nine, in the previous example). Are the virtues or strengths of Nine to be sought after as “superior” to those of the Six, or are they at least related? Perhaps the virtues or best qualities of our integration type might offer us clues as to how we can realise our own type’s virtues and promote our own growth more generally?

Having worked on the Enneagram, I have learned that it is never about striving to “become” another type, because there is no hierarchy of types (as my Ennea friends would explain, only half-jokingly, all are equally awful and tragic). Rather, we should see the virtues of our “related” types, and ultimately all nine types, as accessible to us – perhaps even as self-referencing expressions of the same thing. There is, after all, a reason why this is described as a “path” rather than a typology.

Taking a step back, I reflected on how often we tend to look for rankings and hierarchies in everything, just as we love things to fit into neat, either-or boxes – even, or particularly, when it comes to our own psycho-spiritual development. We might think: “What should I prioritise? Is it better to be more like this, or like that?”  The other thing I noticed was that, apart from the fact that the Enneagram virtues can sound quite similar to one another, at least in how they are described, they can also sound a bit, well… fluffy. You could call them nebulous at best, and gag-inducing at worst (“connectedness with the unity of reality”? Really?) (Not me, of course – I love this stuff).

And so, I wondered: is there a kind of societal scepticism or even cynicism toward virtues, and where does this come from? Does it reflect our Western rationalism and materialism, which may scoff at things that can’t be measured or monetised? Does it reflect a sort of secular suspicion of anything that might be laden with morality – and therefore, we assume, religious or spiritual or simply traditional values? After all, the word “virtue” is defined on Wikipedia as moral excellence; surely any concept that centres around what it means to be “good” has a lot of baggage to unpack, especially if these traits or qualities are assumed to be universally desirable and valuable. Or do we simply think of virtues as lofty and vague, and therefore unattainable at best or meaningless at worst? Some may even find the word itself outdated (do we still even talk about virtues? Aren’t values the same thing?).

Semantics aside, at least for now, why is this topic important? Well, it struck me as particularly relevant in a month in which we are typically bombarded with “New Year, New Me” messaging and/or, at the very least, a vague impulse to “get back on track”. Even if we disregard all the media and marketing, do we not all aspire, to a certain degree, not only to get better at things but to become “better” people? If so, what guiding principles – or values, or standards, or (dare we say it) ideals – are we basing this on?

More broadly, my inquiry is around the value of contemplating virtues. Is there value in considering these aspirational or “higher” qualities, whatever we like to call them? Does thinking about an abstract and perhaps nebulous quality, like serenity, or equanimity, or “connectedness with the unity of reality”, actually transform you into a person who practises those qualities? Does contemplating virtues count as a form of meaningful practice – and by “count”, do we mean that it should translate into virtuous behaviour? Is it all too close to visualisation – or could contemplating virtues be more “virtuous” than visualising ourselves as successful and fabulously wealthy, à la The Secret?

Words, definitions and associations: Does virtue have a branding problem?

Let’s unpack the way we think about virtues, firstly by looking at its associations with religion and ethics at a high level, and then from a more secular, mainstream and popular media perspective. I’d like to return to the spiritual side of things later, because for me, this is one way to make meaning of the topic on a personal level.

What are some examples of virtues? Wikipedia lists the Christian virtues as faith, hope and love or charity. The section on Hinduism makes reference to punya or “holy living” in Sanskrit, which could perhaps be understood loosely as “virtuousness”; some of the more detailed virtues mentioned are non-violence, non-stealing, patience and truthfulness. The classical virtues in the Western Romano-Greco tradition are prudence, temperance, courage and justice. (And out of interest, the Enneagram virtues, from Type 1 to 9 respectively, are: serenity, humility, authenticity, equanimity, non-attachment, courage, sobriety, innocence, and essential action.)

As we’ve seen, virtues seem unavoidably associated with, if not defined in terms of, morality and ethics. While the words are abstract, they tell us how to live and how to behave, or they at least expect us to know how. Or do they? I’m not an expert on any of the traditions mentioned above, but my sense is that their associated virtues are broader, more conceptual guiding “ideals” – separate from, for example, the Ten Commandments or other equivalents, which seem to offer more specific guidelines for ethical behaviour (and seem to speak more often to virtue’s opposites, i.e. sins). As another example, consider Buddhism’s four brahmaviharas, also known as the Immeasurables or “divine states”, which are compassion, loving-kindness, sympathetic joy, equanimity. These, like the other virtues, are qualities – they aren’t instructions. They don’t in themselves tell us what to do, though most would probably agree that they set the bar very high.

Since we’re on the topic of what guides our behaviour, it’s worth considering the difference between virtues and values. The two might easily be confused; one might even wonder whether we need both and whether the whole issue is in fact nothing more than a branding problem. Virtues are out, values are in (at least they were common currency in any of the Personal Mastery workshops I attended in my corporate life) – right? But no. A Google search explains that values are specific guiding principles or standards for behaviour based on what is important in one’s life, whereas virtues are supposed to be qualities that are generally considered to be good and valuable. The suggestion is therefore that not all values are good, but all virtues define good values.

So, even if virtues don’t tell us what to do, they still presume to tell us what’s good. And so we return to one of our original potential sources of cynicism, namely that virtues are unavoidably tied up with morals and hence with culturally defined values, norms and judgements.

But now to take it even a step further: are we cynical about trying to be good, full stop? Have we become incurably (or maybe just seasonally) jaded about our own self-improvement efforts? Or are we just allergic to righteousness when it comes from the outside? In the extreme, does our cynicism bely a (rightful, I think) suspicion of authoritarian control and surveillance?

Loftier than thou: virtuous cynicism in the mainstream

I remember listening to a podcast with an Irish comedienne, who spoke about what it meant to “have notions”. Having notions was when you tried to be better than you were. It had a sense of acting above your station, and with it a sense of derision for those who acted in some way superior – most importantly because having notions seems to imply that you look down on others. I’m curious about the cultural norms and messaging behind this apparent version of tall poppy syndrome – for example, perhaps this sense of irony towards others’ striving is a kind of hangover from the British habit of self-deprecation (which I have my own theories about, but that’s another story). 

More recently, I saw a snippet from Untamed author Glennon Doyle’s podcast, in which she commented on the branding of the month of January, and the overall absurdity of the “New Year, New You” concept. The point she highlighted was how January (or, more literally, commerce in the month of January) capitalises on our propensity toward self-hatred – and hence, I think, our vulnerability to shame, which is readily stoked by social media and anyone wanting to sell new gym memberships. It’s as if we’re all just waiting for the right month to come around to throw out everything and start again, Doyle comments (‘Imagine if they tried “New Year, New Wife?”’).

The tacit assumption around new year’s resolutions is, of course, that we will inevitably fail; that the gym debit orders will keep coming off from February onwards, even as the excess kilos do not; and that we’ll wait for next January to get strenuously virtuous once again. (My other favourite word, which I like to use when I feel guilty about what I’ve been eating, is “pious”. “Let me be pious this week and not drink wine.”) Here, it’s tempting to wonder whether the real problem of virtue is that it translates personally as self-punishment. And, of course, that we fall for it all, anyway. When it comes to playing along with trying to be good, you’re damned if you do (guaranteed failure plus the shame of having notions) and damned if you don’t (continue to face society’s impossibly high standards of success, beauty and thinness).

A question, then, is whether we believe aspiring to virtues automatically makes us pretenders. Can we solve the problem by keeping quiet about them? Have we learned, at least recently, to avoid doing or saying anything that might invite the stinging rejection of being called out as – even worse than having notions – performing, being a “slacktivist”, or generally feigning righteousness? Which brings me to another example of how the branding of “virtue” has evolved in an ever more ironic direction: the phenomenon of virtue signalling.

Virtue signalling has been defined as “indicating that you are decent, kind and virtuous”. It is used often in political or social contexts, where people profess the “right” opinions, positions, and allegiances (e.g. demonstrating that you are not racist, that you care about the poor, that you are worried about global warming etc) – often, as James Bartholomew wrote in this 2015 article, by vehemently accusing others of being otherwise. If you’re seen to be virtue signalling, you are basically being seen as a pretender, somebody who claims to be a good person – or who simply makes all the right noises, like posting black squares on Instagram – but doesn’t actually do anything good. Or to quote Bartholomew, “There was a time when Britain had a form of Christianity in which pride was considered a sin. Maybe that is part of why some of us find all this virtue signalling obnoxious. It’s just showing off.”

While considering all this, it occurred to me that virtues and morals have not become outdated – in fact, they’ve become amplified beyond measure. Or rather, they have either shapeshifted or been drowned out by opinions, which are essentially ideas, which are equally abstract and meaningless – with the exception that they have been expressed in a very active way, namely through social media posts, likes, or comments. This is the new form of “activity” we have become accustomed to. As a result, the performance of virtues is now something we are both heavily influenced by and acutely sceptical of.

Earlier I suggested that the word “virtue” has cultural baggage. To me, virtue signalling (or being called out for it) is a way of inviting us all to unpack – both our cultural and personal “stuff”. The point is that we all like to believe we are good people, and we are all vulnerable to the need to defend our own egos by feeling superior to others. Realising that we are imperfect and fallible, though, doesn’t mean we should be paralysed by shame. Neither does it necessarily mean we should throw virtues completely out of the window.  

So what is the value of virtues?

Let’s move on from the value judgments surrounding virtues and onto the topic of their actual “utility“. Earlier I suggested that virtues might be problematic simply because they are so vague and abstract. What is it that makes them valuable? You could take the position that virtues have value only if they translate into observable behaviour; you could take this further and ask the same question about values. Even if we leave religion, spirituality and ethics out of it, in the absence of some form of dedicated practice, do we take it for granted that our secular virtues or values somehow translate into behaving virtuously?

It has been said often that organisational values are worthless if they are simply displayed somewhere on a poster or intranet site (or on above-the-line advertising and social media). They have to be enacted. My interest here is not in how to practically turn virtues into behaviours but in what makes them meaningful to individuals as a reflection of society. So, rather than going into a discussion on organisational culture, I’d like to bring back spirituality, and briefly consider what contemplating virtues can look like in practice.

Having practised mindfulness for several years, I would say that the secular version of the practice is pretty much value neutral. Or maybe not quite – in my training, we worked with Jon Kabat-Zinn’s working definition of mindfulness, which is to pay attention on purpose, in the present moment, and with non-judgement, non-reactivity and open-heartedness. The latter are fairly neutral values, I would say – but I know that in the mainstreaming of mindfulness, there’s something of a phobia toward bringing in spirituality or anything approaching religiosity.

To put it bluntly, I think the Western mainstream seems to want mindfulness techniques without the virtues – it’s happy telling people how to be, without telling people how to be, if you get my drift. This is a whole subject on its own, but I believe it is worth mentioning that regardless of what ethics it may or may not teach, mindfulness practice needs to be taught ethically.

The above aside, in the last few years I went from mainstream mindfulness into a foray into Buddhism, and this led me to add a particular type of practice: compassion, or metta. Now, there are several mainstream versions of compassion meditation, but what’s interesting to note is that it might be described as a virtue-based or “value-driven” practice. Its object is not to cultivate focused attention, but to cultivate the wish for one’s own and others’ happiness and freedom from suffering. This is, in short, one form of contemplating virtues.

One might ask: What is the point of sitting on a cushion wishing for an end to all sentient beings’ suffering? Surely we could rather spend that time donating money to charity? Well, apart from generating a positive motivation to be kind to other people, which may or may not lead to prosocial behaviour, there has been research into the neurological effects of metta practice. One hypothesis is that the practice may stimulate the release of hormones such as oxytocin, which are associated with bonding, but this is apparently notoriously difficult to measure. Other research has suggested that the emotional states induced by these so-called heart focused practices are literally good for your heart.

As I think of it, when you practice metta, you don’t just generate thoughts of well-wishing; you also generate a state of wellbeing in your own body, because bringing to mind love, altruism or gratitude towards others equates to generating emotions within your body that don’t just feel good but are also health-sustaining. At the very least, they surely lower stress. Far better than constantly knocking back the dopamine-cortisol spiked cocktail of ongoing Twitter battles (though perhaps less exciting). At the very least, these practices might get us off our phones for ten minutes.

In Buddhism, compassion is one of the Brahmaviharas, or four Immeasurables; the other three are loving-kindness, sympathetic joy and equanimity. Now, would you say that “joy” is a virtue? Not in the West, I would think. Cynically speaking, it certainly has value here, when considered as a gateway to hedonism, which fuels consumerism. But ethically speaking, what value does joy have? To answer this, it is helpful to understand the full translation of the original term.

Mudita is a Pali word that translates as sympathetic joy, or delighting in others’ success, happiness and wellbeing. It is a pure form of joy unaffected by pride or self-interest. One way of looking at this is that taking delight in others’ success has no measurable benefit to ourselves. But here’s the thing: we do value it. Why else would we watch videos on social media channels such as Upworthy? Why would we celebrate others’ graduation pictures on LinkedIn, or consume posts about random strangers paying for other random strangers’ lunches? Rather than see this as an indulgence, we could see that this is a practice we already naturally want to engage in. There is, of course, more – I don’t have the research, but mudita might surely motivate prosocial behaviour, generosity, support of good causes, transformation and greater inclusion, or simply make people less depressed.   

We may think of virtues as non-tangible, fluffy, and ultimately worthless. This, I think, is because the kind of “worth” that virtues offer us is transcendent and uncommodifiable. At face value, some of them might actually sound “useful” and productive. For example, back to the Eneagram again, the virtue of Type Nine is essential action. But if you study more closely, you learn that what leads to this action is a deep sense of self-empowerment, which derives from being fully engaged with reality.

If we reclaim our virtue, we reclaim ourselves, as well as the value of community – the outcomes of which commerce might have no control over.

The meaning of aspiration: Acting versus being

Gandhi famously said: “Be the change you want to see in the world”. Here’s the thing, though: he didn’t. Apparently, the full original quote is this:

“We but mirror the world. All the tendencies present in the outer world are to be found in the world of our body. If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. This is the divine mystery supreme. A wonderful thing it is and the source of our happiness. We need not wait to see what others do.”

Mahatma Gandhi

It strikes me that “Be the change” is much more suited to the Western mentality because it seems so active. Even though the nett interpretation is that we need to change ourselves, the misquote somehow seems to translate much more readily as “Do the change. Make the change. Change the world out there”. What Gandhi said is much more subtle, and implies much harder work.

This brings us back to our understanding of the word “aspiration”. The word to me seems associated with “striving” – seeking to get better, to become something more. While it’s not to say that we don’t grow and evolve, there’s a subtle but critical distinction between becoming something you’re not, and becoming who you really are. It’s like hunting for treasure that’s already within you. 

On this, remember how this piece started with a discussion of the Enneagram gifts, as part of the expression or origination of the virtues. One way of understanding gifts might be to treat them as similar to character strengths. But to me, this might be something of a dilution. Once again, the Enneagram suggests that we have access to all types ultimately. And if the qualities are similar-feeling, could this perhaps point to a broader, unifying but subtler quality of aspiration? At the heart of which is the realisation that it’s not about simply being yourself but about recognising your underlying nature as inherently kind, loving and, yes, virtuous. This, I believe, is what is encapsulated in the concept of Buddha Nature, which every being ultimately possesses.

Perhaps, then, aspiration should be understood rather as embodiment or realisation. Or, to draw on something beautiful that was said by a fellow participant during a talk on “The Knowing Heart”, hosted by an Ennea-practitioner coach and spiritual seeker friend:

“Healing [is] not so much about mending what was broken, but about reconnecting to the light that can never be broken.”

Or as I like to think of it: One way in which we can defy the system is to do less and be more. Not “be more”, but “be”, more.  

A final thought on virtues as being at the “apex”

A brilliant connection of mine posted something recently on LinkedIn: “Aristotle said that a virtue sits at the midpoint of two vices. So courage is the virtue that sits between recklessness and cowardice. Patience sits in the sweet spot between being impatient and being passive. And so the list goes on.”

As mentioned, when we think of a virtue, we typically think of something lofty and superior. What if it’s more the case of virtues being about balance – something not at the top of some imagined hierarchy of goodness, but in the middle, as Aristotle said? Is the ultimate virtue, then, a sort of judiciousness? Flexibility? Responsiveness to the needs of the present situation? Or even something that conveys the essence of bringing together – something like reconciliation or integration?

While we might associate virtues with the “thou shalt not” principles that all religions and traditions have, they are much more than that. They are abstract, yes, but that’s maybe part of their power. They aren’t people who need to be idealised, placed on a pedestal, or obeyed; they are principles we can call on, as one of many resources in humanity’s repertoire. They are principles to apply – and they aren’t static. They are sources of strength, or even (to borrow once more from the Buddhist tradition) refuge. And they are reminders of the gifts that we all share.

(Postscript: A stock image search on the word “virtue” returned a noticeably high ratio of paid images compared to free ones. This struck me as either highly ironic or highly appropriate, given the above discussion of both the value and “currency” of virtues.)