Loss of Reality

As our society “decultures,” our outlooks become more mechanical. John Henry Newman recognized that the most important intellectual virtue is good judgment, what he called the “illative sense,” the capacity to round out a body of evidence, which is never complete or definitive, into a firm conclusion. This capacity requires a taste for reality, one that can distinguish subtle shades of significance.

A good scientist has this capacity. But it is focused. The entomologist knows insects; the astronomer knows the stars. The wisdom we need to govern our society and our souls addresses the full human condition, a richly varied reality, parts of which can be studied scientifically, but the whole of which cannot be subsumed under a theory. For this reason, humanistic study is crucial, for it plunges us into the stream of human endeavor, speculation, lament, celebration, and more.

I don’t want to oversell books, even great books. Many students in my generation and earlier ones were assigned and dutifully read the canonical authors but gained little insight. It’s tempting to go through the motions, especially in required classes. In truth, life itself is often the best instructor. An older generation of faculty looked back on the late 1940s as a golden moment for good reason. Returning GIs were not just a bit older and more mature than the usual freshmen. They had a richness of experience that came from participation in great and consequential events.

I certainly learned a lesson or two in the school of life. During my high school years, I spent a summer as a kitchen assistant and pot washer in an Italian restaurant in Baltimore. When cooks were going full throttle during busy times, the atmosphere was high-spirited. There were times when I was chewed out for being too slow and not anticipating needs, yelling sessions during which I learned elaborate combinations of obscene words, a species of creativity heretofore unknown to me. I cannot distill a “lesson” from those hours in the hot restaurant kitchen, any more than I can boil down Milton’s Paradise Lost to a one-sentence statement about its “point.” Rather, my mind was infused with new and vivid material from the great gallery of the human condition.

Here as well we are embarked on a Great Forgetting. I have the impression that the most talented students at our most prestigious universities—those most likely to be assigned responsibilities for the future of our society—undertake internships, but rarely work at the numbskull jobs that expose them to people outside the charmed circle of the clever and well-placed.

This social isolation of our elite is compounded by the triumph of screens. Not only are few bright young people reading Hemingway; they spend endless hours looking at their smartphones, where reality is mediated and curated. A person educated in game theory (or any other theory of human motivation and action) and socialized by social media is so removed from the breadth of human experience that good judgment about how to navigate through life becomes elusive. I’m not surprised, therefore, that mental illness and other dysfunctions are on the rise—and that our institutions and political culture are eroding. These days our intuitions and sensibilities are not well-trained by reality.

As with the task of passing down cultural inheritance, men and women of faith have important roles to play. Priests and pastors need to preserve the tangible reality of worship. Fortunately, the sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist require the visible signs of water, bread, and wine. Hymns and songs are anchored in the human voice. But the potency of the real needs to be embraced in every possible way. The installation of screens of any sort in churches should be resisted. I advise getting rid of microphones whenever possible, as well as amplified music. (Orthodox Jews have the advantage of ritual prohibitions against turning devices on and off, limiting the electronic invasion of the sabbath.) Processions should be emphasized. Christians should consider adopting the Jewish tradition of asking all in attendance to sprinkle dirt after a casket is lowered into the grave. Our taste for reality needs to be engaged and trained so that we can taste and see the goodness of the Lord.