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a conversation about civics in Chinese traditions

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On December 10, the Alliance for Civics in the Academy hosted a webinar on “Comparative Civics: Beyond Western Civ” with Fordham professor Dongxian Jiang, University of Chicago professor Shadi Bartsch, Nanyang Technical University professor Simon Sihang Luo, and University of Chicago student Jessie Wang. I was the moderator.

The title of the event suggests our original plan, which was to think about the role of “non-Western” texts and ideas (whatever the word “Western” means) in civic education. As it turned out, our panel had the expertise and lived experience to focus on China. Clearly, we could have chosen many other foci, but I thought this one was useful–it made for a coherent conversation. We discussed what “civic education” has meant in China, what American students can learn from studying Chinese society and classical texts, how Confucian thinkers might assess American civic education, what you should know to teach Chinese texts well, and other topics that may also apply (mutatis mutandis) to other countries and regions of the world.

The video is below.

The next ACA webinar will be “Beyond the Ivory Tower: What Elite and Non-Selective Colleges Can Teach Each Other About Civics” with Thomas Schnaubelt, J. Cherie Strachan, Scott Arcenas, and Josiah Ober on January 14, 2026, from 9:00-10:00 a.m. PT.

See also core curricula without the concept of the West; the history of the phrase “the West”, etc.

The Way of Skepticism

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Here is a pitch for a book that I have finished drafting, with the title The Way of Skepticism:

In 2025, I was invited to give philosophy lectures in Kyiv, Ukraine (on the day of the third-worst bombardment in the war so far) and then at two Palestinian universities in the occupied West Bank. In both settings, I spoke as a philosopher and essentially made the following argument:

There are no answers to questions that have sometimes been thought to provide a basis for overall happiness, such as “What is the purpose of human life?”

You might expect that someone who teaches or writes about philosophy will offer ideas that you should believe. Famous philosophers and religious traditions have recommended various beliefs as the foundations of a happy life.

But beliefs are easily overrated, especially when we use them to assess a person’s authority or character. A strong attachment to beliefs can distort judgment, inhibit listening, and substitute for action. Disagreement about beliefs produces unnecessary distress and hostility. On the other hand, suspending the search for such truths can bring valuable relief if we renounce the pursuit in a wise way.

We can experience good things, such as pleasure and justice. These experiences are real enough, but there is no reason to presume that they fit neatly together, so that (for example) being fair to others will surely bring inner peace.

Paying close attention to particular people and animals, both oneself and others, reinforces skepticism about general matters, such as the purpose or the nature of life, by reminding us how different everything must seem to creatures who have different bodies and who experience different circumstances.

A focus on individual people and animals also encourages compassion for them. Genuine compassion spurs action on their behalf. And a life infused with compassion and beneficial action is better than one without those things, although it does not guarantee happiness.

There is an important difference between fact and error. Valuable information can be discovered, stored, shared, and revised collectively and can guide action. The problem is not knowledge (a social good) but individuals’ adherence to beliefs.

Skepticism does not imply that reality is only what can be empirically observed. Human understanding is limited, and reality exceeds what our minds can grasp. Skepticism can coexist with religious faith. It is not a theory of reality but a practical way for finite, fallible beings to navigate a world of suffering.

Skepticism about beliefs does not imply moral relativism. We make good and bad decisions. Ethical responsibility arises most powerfully in face-to-face encounters with other people. Being present with others creates moral demands. Decisions to act or to be present should arise from invitations and relationships. We should be committed to people (and animals), not to beliefs.

My lectures had mixed success, for reasons that I discuss in the manuscript. In neither setting would it have been appropriate for me to share a much longer argument. In the book, I offer more detail.

First, I ground the general points summarized above in a rich intellectual tradition. This tradition begins with the ancient Skeptical School (represented by Pyrrho of Ellis and Sextus Empiricus). Their arguments were intriguingly similar to portions of the classical Buddhist Pali Canon, which I also interpret and discuss.

Renaissance authors rediscovered Sextus’ work, and Michel de Montaigne developed a version of Greek Skepticism while drawing on other sources and adding his own insights. Montaigne did not know anything about Buddhism, but his commitment to compassion made his form of Skepticism resemble the Pali Canon as much as it resembled Sextus. Montaigne’s Essays suggested Skeptical themes to Shakespeare, which echo in John Keats and several modern authors for whom either Montaigne or Shakespeare have been touchstones.

I believe that my position benefits from close readings of Montaigne and some of his predecessors and influences, because these thinkers are complex and persuasive.

Second, the ancient Skeptics did not simply offer arguments in favor of Skepticism. (In fact, as they acknowledged, an argument against belief would risk self-contradiction). More usefully, they practiced and taught methods or meditative exercises that could reduce our level of belief in beneficial ways. Sextus offers several lists of these “modes” (the standard translation of his word for such methods), reaching a maximum of 10 in one text. Montaigne practices some of Sextus’ modes and discusses other ways that he has pursued equanimity.

In modern European authors and in some Mahayana Buddhist texts, I have found mental exercises that are fundamentally consistent with ancient Skepticism but more appropriate for our period. The bulk of my manuscript presents ten such modern Skeptical “modes”:

  1. Don’t strive to be original but think vividly. This method involves acknowledging that our best beliefs are often clichés (which is a specifically modern complaint). Seeing a belief as a cliché reduces our attachment to it without making us negate it.
  2. Adjust your relationship with the past and the future. This method involves identifying problematic mental states, such as dread and nostalgia, that depend on beliefs about time that we can challenge.
  3. Learn from shifting moods. Sextus and Montaigne try to shake our commitment to beliefs by showing that they depend on the mood that we happen to be in. Science offers methods that are supposed to combat all form of subjective bias, including moods; however, science cannot reveal what is good or right. Drawing on Heidegger, I argue that we can derive specific insights from each mood (because it is one way for us to be in the world), while also loosening our commitment to the beliefs associated with any given mood.
  4. Appreciate being oneself. Montaigne is a great student of his own experience, a phenomenologist before that word was coined. He gains happiness from this exploration. (“There is no description so hard, nor so profitable, as the description of a man’s own self.”) The goal of Do-It-Yourself phenomenology is not to discover general truths that will make us happy or better once we believe in them. Instead, DIY phenomenology can reveal complexities, mysteries, and depths that we can appreciate. By seeing ourselves as much more than suffering machines, we can increase how much we can enjoy being ourselves.
  5. Consider the boundaries of experience. Sextus and Montaigne emphasize that the world that we consider objective is actually contingent on whatever senses, values, and reasoning powers we happen to have. A different creature must inhabit a different world. The Zen master Hakuin Ekaku (1686-1769), William Blake, and the young Ludwig Wittgenstein derived consolation from realizing that the world infinitely exceeds our capacity to know it; and we can learn from them.
  6. Don’t try to be perfect but appreciate the turn toward it. Let’s define a “sublime” experience as something far better than our usual life. From a classical Skeptical perspective, sublime experiences are neither true (revealing that the world is really better than it seems) nor false (as if we merely imposed our wishes on reality). Sublime experiences are simply experiences among others, but they are much more enjoyable. Therefore, we should seek them out.
  7. Recognize others in sublime experiences:Many modern views of the sublime are highly individualistic. They assume that anything of spiritual value must be timeless and can be appreciated by a lone individual who is in the right frame of mind. But we always learn what to value from other people, both living and dead. A sublime experience depends on the particular people who have influenced its creator and its audiences. This is a Skeptical point, suggesting that we would find different things beautiful and moving if we had different backgrounds. But it also gives us an opportunity to be grateful to the people who have shaped our values, and this gratitude can deepen our sublime experiences.
  8. Do things for their own sake. Many authors and even whole traditions offer the same valid advice: focus on doing the right thing, not on whether it has the intended outcomes. Derive satisfaction from the act, not its goal. I justify this advice in a Skeptical way and turn it into a “mode.” First try to identify morally good actions and then view them as intrinsically valuable ways of being, not as means to any end.
  9. Be compassionate (not sympathetic). Montaigne is a great proponent and exemplar of compassion. Properly understood, compassion is not a mirroring of someone else’s emotions, so that if they are angry, we must also feel anger. It is a specific emotion that can be positive (or at least calm) and must result in action. I draw on Buddhist texts and Emmanuel Levinas to present a view of compassion that is compatible with Skepticism.
  10. Decide what to do in conversation. Perhaps the most serious criticism of Skepticism is that it may discourage action. If we have no beliefs, then why should we do anything? Yet many people suffer, and we should help them. As Sextus and Montaigne emphasize, we have limited intellectual capacities and unreliable motives. Besides, as individuals, we cannot accomplish much. To put it bluntly, we are both stupid and weak. But we do have other people around us. By listening, talking, and working with others and reflecting on the results, we can make ourselves at least a bit wiser and stronger. Even when a group errs, we are at least in solidarity with the other members.

We live in a period of polarization and conflict, including several cruel wars. These challenges have political causes and require political solutions. Becoming a Skeptic is not a solution to such problems, but it is a way for an individual to navigate our current world with a dose of sanity and responsibility.

This book is also an argument for practicing the humanities–the disciplines that interpret human culture–to improve one’s inner life and one’s relationships with other human beings and animals. Reading for pleasure is in decline. The academic humanities are under political attack for being (allegedly) leftwing and economically unprofitable. And reading and writing risk being replaced by artificial intelligence. This book argues that engagement with texts can improve the inner life, but it also justifies other modes, including ones that require no texts.

(Revised for clarity on 1/7.) See also: three takes on the good life: Aristotle, Buddha, Montaigne; consider the octopus; does skepticism promote a tranquil mind?; notes from the West Bank; etc.

in praise of John Florio

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I find myself nearly finished writing a book whose hero is Michel de Montaigne. In the manuscript, I quote him many times. I have read large swaths of his Essays in M.A. Screech’s translation, which is learned and reliable (and good English prose). I translate the passages that concern me most. But sometimes I also turn to John Florio’s 1603 translation, which was hugely influential. Shakespeare had the same publisher as Florio and drew heavily on Montaigne, probably using Florio’s translation.

Florio is not always as literal as I need for my purpose (closely reading Montaigne), but he is an excellent writer.

Consider, for example, a passage from “De Mesnager sa Volonté” (or “How one ought to governe his will” in Florio’s translation). I will first offer a summary, interpolating my own translations, and then show what Florio does with with the text.

The passage begins with Montaigne saying that he no longer wants to improve himself. “It’s almost better never to become an honest man than to do so so late, and certainly better to learn how to live when you no longer have a life to live. I, who am about to depart, would gladly pass on to someone who comes after me the lessons of prudence I’ve learned in dealing with the world. Mustard after dinner.”

He mentions the recent change to the Gregorian Calendar, a reform that has “eclipsed” ten days. He says that it depresses him, and he finds himself clinging to the old ways even though it makes him feel a bit like a heretic. He convinces himself that the reform is not for him but for those who will follow after he has died. He may keep “counting” the days as he has. He explains, “In short, here I am, finishing this man, not remaking another. Through long use, this form has passed into substance for me, and fortune into nature.”

I think Montaigne means both that the old calendar, which was a flawed human invention, has become a natural truth for him—and also that all the experiences that have accidentally turned him into Michel de Montaigne have become his substance and nature. “I say, therefore, that each of us, in our weakness, should be excused for considering as our own what is comprised within this measure. But also, beyond these limits, there is nothing but confusion.”

Now consider Florio’s version:

I will say this by way of example; that the eclipsing or abridging of tenne dayes, which the Pope hath lately caused, hath taken me so lowe, that I can hardly recover my selfe. I followe the yeares, wherein we were wont to compt otherwise. So long and ancient a custome doth chalenge and recall me to it againe. I am thereby enforced to be somewhat an heretike: Incapable of innovation, though corrective. My imagination maugre my teeth runnes still tenne dayes before, or tenne behinde; and whispers in mine eares: This rule toucheth those, which are to come. If health it selfe so sweetely-pleasing, comes to me but by fittes, it is rather to give mee cause of griefe, than possession of it selfe. I have no where left me to retire it. Time forsakes me; without which nothing is enjoyed. How small accompt should I make of these great elective dignities I see in the worlde, and which are onely given to men, ready to leave the world! wherein they regarde not so much how duelie they shall discharge them, as how little they shall exercise them: from the beginning they looke to the end. To conclude, I am ready to finish this man, not to make another. By long custome, this forme is changed into substance, and Fortune into Nature. I say therefore, that amongst us feeble creatures, each one is excusable to compt that his owne, which is comprehended under this measure. And yet all beyond these limites, is nothing but confusion.

Florio sees a theme here about “counting” and uses that verb (“compt” or “accompt”) three times. There is no similar echo in Montaigne’s French text, but this is a lovely way to convey the author’s argument.

Likewise, Florio’s “hath taken me so lowe, that I can hardly recover my selfe” allows him to foreshadow the discussion of Montaigne’s “self” that is coming soon, although the word is not in the original (“m’ont prins si bas que je ne m’en puis bonnement accoustrer.”)

Screech ably translates a sentence as “I grit my teeth [a modern idiom], but my mind is always ten days ahead or ten days behind; it keeps muttering in my ears” (p. 1143). However, Florio’s language is more pungent: “My imagination maugre my teeth runnes still tenne dayes before, or tenne behinde; and whispers in mine eares.”

See also: Montaigne’s equanimity; was Montaigne a relativist?; three takes on the good life: Aristotle, Buddha, Montaigne

why policy debates continue

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I’m at Stanford today to discuss a paper, Policy Models as Networks of Beliefs. After circulating my draft, I realized that the following is really my argument. …

We use mental models to think about and discuss contested questions of policy. Worthy models typically have these features:

  1. They have many components, not just a few. A model might include a causal inference, such as “spending more on x produces better outcomes.” But those two components (the spending and the outcomes) must be part of a much larger model that also explains why certain outcomes are valuable, where the money would come from, what else effects the system, and so on.
  2. The components should be connected, and the resulting structure matters. Structures can take various forms (e.g., root-cause analysis, vicious cycles). There is no single best structure.
  3. Pieces of models may prove regular. For instance, maybe spending more on x regularly produces better outcomes, all else considered. But such regularities only apply to small aspects of good models. The science-like effort to find regularities can only get us so far.
  4. Some components of any worthy model should be values or normative claims. Some normative components have regular significance in all models. However, many value components change their significance depending on the context. Equality, for example, does not consistently mean the same thing and may not always be desirable.
  5. If a model proves influential, it can change the world, which can require a new model. For example, arguing that more money should be spent on X could cause more funds to be allocated to X, at which point it would no longer be wise to increase the funding. Models are dynamic in this sense.

I believe this account supports a pluralistic, polycentric, pragmatist, and deliberative approach to policymaking, as opposed to a positivistic one.

See also: choosing models that illuminate issues–on the logic of abduction in the social sciences and policy; different kinds of social models; social education as learning to improve models; etc.

trusting experts or ordinary people

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The 2020 American National Election Survey asked, “Do you trust ordinary people or experts for public policy?’ Respondents could answer either or both. Overall, 42% chose both experts and ordinary people, 40% said experts, and 17% said ordinary people.

(By the way, I suppose I would answer “both,” although I have some concerns about trusting either experts or majority opinion.)

There was a partisan difference. A narrow majority (51%) of Democrats chose experts, and just 12% of Democrats said ordinary people. The largest group of Republicans (47%) said both, followed by ordinary people at 28%. Only 25% of Republicans chose experts.

When I controlled for education and age, partisanship was a significant predictor, meaning that Democrats were more likely than Republicans to trust experts, regardless of their own education and age. This is a meaningful difference between the parties.

The ANES also asked people to name their most important issue, using an open-ended question. The survey researchers assigned responses to many categories, most of which represented less than one percent of the sample. (For example, 0.2% of respondents named illegal drugs as their top issue.)

Among the more popular categories, there were some interesting differences in trust.

Seven percent of the sample chose the environment as their top issue, and of those people, 64% trusted experts while only 4% trusted ordinary people more. Apparently, environmentalists like expertise.

On the other hand, of the 1.8% who chose employment as their top issue, only 27% trusted experts more, and almost as many (23%) trusted ordinary people more. There are experts on employment (economists) but they do not seem to be trusted by the people who care most about this issue.

And for the 2% who chose the media as their top issue, experts came in last, behind ordinary people and “both.” This is a small group, but it seems that there are some critics of expertise who view the media as our main problem, perhaps because they distrust the experts whom they see in the news.