This is a penultimate draft. For the final draft, please see the volume in which it has been
published.
The Situationist Challenge to Educating for Intellectual Virtues
Jason Baehr
Loyola Marymount University
One main branch of virtue epistemology focuses on intellectual character virtues
like curiosity, open-mindedness, attentiveness, intellectual courage, and intellectual
tenacity.1 Such traits appear to be importantly relevant to educational theory and practice.
We expect a good education to help students learn to ask good questions (curiosity), take
up alternative standpoints (open-mindedness), notice important details (attentiveness),
take intellectual risks (intellectual courage), and embrace intellectual challenges
(intellectual tenacity). Intellectual virtues also suggest a way of “thickening” certain worthy
but nebulous educational goals like a love of learning, lifelong learning, and critical
thinking. A love of learning—or a desire for “epistemic goods”—is the putative
psychological basis of intellectual virtues.2 And intellectual virtues are the deep personal
qualities or character traits required for lifelong learning and critical thinking.3 By
enriching our understanding of what these other educational goals amount to, the concepts
of intellectual character and intellectual virtue can also improve our understanding of how
best to pursue these goals.
Suppose, however, that situationist critiques of moral character and virtue ethics
are successful.4 Given the structural similarity between moral virtues and intellectual
virtues, this critique may also spell trouble for virtue epistemology and its application to
educational theory and practice.5 It may, for instance, yield a decisive objection to thinking
of intellectual character growth as a plausible educational aim. Indeed, situationist
critiques may be especially pointed in this context: if intellectual virtue is a rare or nonexistent phenomenon, attempts to educate for growth in intellectual virtues are likely to
seem quixotic at best and a scandalous waste of scarce educational resources at worst.6
This is “virtue responsibilism” or character-based virtue epistemology rather than “virtue
reliabilism.” For more on difference, see Baehr (2011: Ch. 4).
2 See, for example, Montmarquet (1993), Zagzebski (1996), and Baehr (2011).
3 See Baehr (2013) for a development of this and related points.
4 See (Doris 2002) for a recent systematic treatment of the issue. The empirical literature he draws
on is surveyed in Nisbett and Ross (1991). For one of the initial philosophical replies to this
literature, see Flanagan (1991).
5 Mark Alfano (2012; 2013) has led the way in extending the situationist challenge to virtue
epistemology. For a recent response to Alfano, see King (2014).
6 John Doris (2002: 6; 24; 121f) makes a similar point. Indeed, some of the earliest and most
influential situationist-type arguments were leveled at attempts to educate for growth in moral
virtues. See especially Kohlberg (1968, 1981). For some early responses to Kohlberg, see Hamm
(1977) and (Peters 1978).
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In what follows, I address this challenge head on.7 My primary focus is the
situationist claim that intellectual virtue is a rare (possibly non-existent) phenomenon. I
begin by identifying some situationist research that bears on this question. Prior to
examining its implications, I distinguish between three “levels” of intellectual virtue:
maximal, robust, and minimal. I go on argue that while the research supports thinking that
maximal intellectual virtue is rare, it provides only weak support for thinking that robust
intellectual virtue is rare, and it provides little to no support for the rarity of minimal
intellectual virtue. I then turn briefly to consider whether, even if all three levels of
intellectual virtue were rare, this would significantly undermine the enterprise of
“educating for intellectual virtues” (EIV).8 I conclude by arguing that while situationist
research does not seriously threaten EIV, the most promising approaches to EIV will be
informed and constrained by it.
1. The Situationist Research
Identifying situationist findings relevant to EIV is a somewhat tricky task, for the
majority of situationist experiments have targeted moral character and virtues.9 However,
my focus here will be two studies targeting activity that can reasonably be thought of as
characteristic of two intellectual virtues—in particular, of intellectual flexibility and
intellectual courage.10 While my immediate focus is fairly narrow, I attempt to offset this
limitation by making several initial concessions and assumptions that favor a situationist
perspective.
Though the results in question are drawn from two studies, it will be helpful to
divide them into the following three groups:
CANDLE-I: In a study by Alice Isen, Kimberly Daubman, and Gary Nowicki (1987),
participants are asked to complete the so-called Duncker candle task. Each participant
is given a book of matches, a box of thumbtacks, and a candle and is asked to attach the
candle to the wall in such a way that when the candle is lit, no wax drips on the floor.
(The solution: take the tacks out of the box, pin the box to the wall, then place the
candle upright in the box.) It does not seem implausible to think of this task as
demanding a certain kind of intellectual flexibility—and indeed a kind that, if practiced
and internalized in the right way, could amount to an intellectual character virtue. In
the study, only 13% of participants were able to complete the task. However, when the
My concern is not with the situationist challenge to virtue epistemology per se, that is, qua
epistemological theory. This underscores a difference between the project of this paper and replies
to situationism on behalf of virtue ethics.
8 For more on what this enterprise might look like in practice, see Battaly (2006), Ritchhart (2002),
and Baehr (2013). It is also worth noting that the aim of EIV, as I am thinking about it here, is not
that students would become paragons of intellectual virtue (an extremely unrealistic goal), but
rather that they would experience meaningful or significant growth over a reasonable period of
time. See Baehr (2013) for more on this point.
9 For more on the relationship between intellectual virtues and moral virtues, see Baehr (2011:
Appendix).
10 These are two of the main studies addressed in Alfano (2012), which is one of very few attempts
to extend the situationist challenge to virtue epistemology. A version of this paper is reprinted in
his (2013: Ch. 5). I limit my attention to these studies mainly because, to my mind, they are the ones
that most clearly target activity characteristic of specific and identifiable intellectual virtues.
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tacks were presented to participants outside of the box, making the solution to the
problem more apparent, the completion rate jumped to 83%. On the assumption that
solving the former version of the task requires intellectual flexibility but solving the
latter version does not, one lesson to be drawn from these findings, per situationism, is
that most people lack intellectual flexibility.11
CANDLE-II: In the same study, a second group of participants is presented with the
more challenging, tacks-inside-the-box version of the task, but is also given a “mood
enhancer.” Specifically, each person is given some candy or shown a brief comedy
immediately prior to being asked to complete the task. Surprisingly, 75% of
participants went on to discover the solution, compared with 13% in the control group.
The conclusion urged by situationists is that while most people may be disposed to
engage in intellectually flexible activity under these conditions, doing so is not an
indication of the virtue of intellectual flexibility, for we expect the genuinely virtuous to
engage in virtue-relevant activity without reliance on mood enhancers or similar
expedients. Put another way, the upshot is that most people are at best intellectually
flexible only in a very weak or insignificant sense.
LINES: In a now famous series of experiments conducted in the 1950s, Solomon Asch
sought to determine the extent to which group pressure might cause people to deny the
clear evidence of their senses. In one such experiment (1963), seven confederates and a
single participant are shown a series of line pairs and asked to identify the longer of the
two lines. While the answer was always clear to the naked eye, Asch found that when all
seven of the confederates answered incorrectly (identifying the shorter line as longer),
the lone participant regularly registered agreement. Specifically, he found that while
approximately one quarter of participants refused to agree with the majority, roughly a
third agreed more often than not, and 50 to 80 percent of participants agreed at least
once. Subsequent experiments identified various limitations on these findings.12 For
instance, it was discovered that the group effect disappears when the disagreement is
anything short of unanimous and when the size of a unanimously dissenting group is
sufficiently small. It is also generally agreed that the participants do not actually
disbelieve the evidence of their senses but rather are simply unwilling to assert what
they believe. These qualifications notwithstanding, there is some plausibility to the
situationist suggestion that, when participants do register agreement with the majority,
they fail to demonstrate a kind of intellectual courage called for in the situation.
Before turning to discuss the implications of these findings for EIV, I want briefly to
identify a few assumptions that will guide the remainder of the discussion. Each one is
See e.g. Alfano (2012: 237). A slightly different conclusion would be that solving the tacksoutside-the-box version of the task requires some intellectually flexible thinking but that the
participants who completed this task do not possess the virtue of intellectual flexibility because
they manifested such thinking only after being primed (tacks outside the box) in a manner that
would not be necessary for someone with the actual virtue of intellectual flexibility. For a response
to this sort of possibility, see the discussion in section 3.2 below.
12 See (Alfano 2013:134) for a relevant discussion.
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intended to bolster the situationist case against EIV. First, I assume that the activity
targeted by these experiments is indeed representative or characteristic of the virtues in
question, such that a failure to engage in this activity is at least prima facie relevant to the
question of how widely these virtues are possessed. Second, I assume that the behavior of
the subjects in these experiments is representative of how most people would act under
similar conditions. Third, and most importantly, I shall assume that similar experiments
could be designed for the full range of intellectual virtues and that the results would be
comparable and capable of being replicated on a wide scale. Taken together, these
assumptions will allow us to generalize on the research in way that will be helpful for
better understanding the prospects of EIV.
2. Levels of Intellectual Virtue
How, then, might a situationist draw on this research to argue against EIV? One
possibility is as follows:
(P1) Intellectual virtues do not exist;
(C) Therefore, EIV is a bad idea.
This argument is a non-starter. While some situationists have defended the non-existence
of character traits (e.g. Harman 1999), (P1) is not well supported by the findings just noted.
In both studies, a non-negligible number of participants engage in the targeted virtuerelevant activity (even without any motivational boost or priming). Therefore, contra (P1),
the studies do not show that intellectual virtues are non-existent; rather, they provide
some evidence for thinking that at least some people possess intellectual virtues.
A similar but more promising version of the argument is as follows:
(P2) Intellectual virtues are rare;
(C) Therefore, EIV is a bad idea.
This argument is an improvement on the previous one. Indeed, (P2) may appear to be
precisely what is supported by the relevant studies. However, as I turn now to argue, (P2)
is importantly ambiguous and its plausibility varies significantly from one understanding of
it to another.
Like moral virtue virtues, intellectual virtues come in degrees. A person can be more
or less open-minded, fair-minded, intellectually careful, intellectually courageous, or the
like. This has obvious implications for how we understand (P2). Should (P2) be read
merely as the claim that “perfect” or “ideal” intellectual virtue is rare? Or should it be read
as a claim about the rarity of “minimal” intellectual virtue as well? The difference is
significant. For claims of the latter sort are far stronger and require far more support than
claims of the former sort. Moreover, if situationists can show merely that “perfect”
intellectual virtue is rare, the implications for EIV may be insignificant.
This point about levels or degrees of virtue is not given an especially prominent role
in most discussions of situationism. Though I cannot stop to develop the point here, my
own view is that this often makes it unnecessarily difficult to pinpoint the significance of
the situationist findings.13 I contend that to get a good handle on the plausibility of
13
A recent and very welcome exception is (Miller 2013), especially Chapters 2 and 7.
4
situationism in ethics or epistemology, it is important to draw clear distinctions between
different levels of virtue and then to consider what the evidence suggests with respect to
each level. As we will see, this is no easy task. Doing so, however, will provide a more
accurate and illuminating perspective on the situationist case against EIV.
I shall distinguish between three levels of intellectual virtue in relation to the
following three criteria:
1. Scope: For a given subject S and intellectual virtue V, is S disposed to engage in Vrelevant activity across a wide range of V-relevant contexts?14
2. Frequency: Within a given V-relevant context, how frequently or consistently does S
engage in V-relevant activity?
3. Motivation: To what extent is S’s V-relevant activity epistemically motivated? That is,
to what extent is it motivated by distinctively epistemic goods like truth, knowledge,
or understanding?
Each of these factors bears importantly on whether or the extent to which a person
possesses an intellectual virtue.15 If a person regularly engages in open-minded intellectual
activity, say, but does so only in an extremely narrow range of contexts, then she
presumably is not a very open-minded person. Similarly, if this person demonstrates
intellectual autonomy across several different situations, but does so only very rarely,
thereby frequently missing opportunities to manifest this trait, then she presumably lacks
the virtue of intellectual autonomy.
While the notions of scope and frequency are straightforward, the concept of
motivation merits closer attention. On several accounts of intellectual virtue, a person’s
intellectual activity instantiates an intellectual virtue only if it is motivated by something
like a desire for epistemic goods. Many virtue epistemologists (e.g. Montmarquet 1993;
Zagzebski 1996; Baehr 2011) hold further that the desire in question must be intrinsic, that
is, that an intellectually virtuous person necessarily is motivated by epistemic goods as
such. It does not follow, however, that the activity of an intellectually virtuous person must
be strictly or exclusively motivated by epistemic goods. While a plausible qualification, this
raises the further question of just how strong or efficacious the motivation in question
must be. While I cannot explore this question in any detail here, I offer the following
elaboration:
Throughout the paper I use the term “virtue-relevant activity” to refer to activity that is
characteristic or expressive of a virtue; and I use the term “virtue-relevant context” to refer to
contexts in which virtue-relevant actions are called for.
15 These criteria, or closely related ones, are a familiar part of the situationist dialectic. For instance,
my scope condition is extremely similar (perhaps identical to) what Doris describes as
“consistency” (2002: 22) and what Sreenisvasan describes as “cross-situational stability” (2002:
49); and my frequency condition is similarly related to what Doris calls “stability” (ibid.) and
Sreenivasan calls “temporal stability” (ibid.).
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(EM) S’s virtue-relevant activity is “epistemically motivated” in the relevant sense
just in case it is (a) motivated by an epistemic good as such and this motivation is (b)
strong enough to cause the activity.16
We are now in a position to distinguish between three levels of intellectual virtue:
S is maximally intellectual virtuous in respect of a particular intellectual virtue V
only if: (a) S engages in V-relevant activity across all V-relevant contexts; (b) within
all V-relevant contexts, S always engages in V-relevant activity when doing so is
called for; and (c) within all V-relevant contexts, S’s V-relevant activity is always
epistemically motivated.17
S is robustly intellectually virtuous in respect of a particular intellectual virtue V
only if: (a) S engages in V-relevant activity across a wide range of V-relevant
contexts; (b) within a wide range of V-relevant contexts, S often engages in Vrelevant activity when doing so is called for; and (c) within in a wide range of Vrelevant contexts, S’s V-relevant activity often is epistemically motivated.18
S is minimally virtuous in respect of a particular intellectual virtue V only if: (a) S
engages in V-relevant activity across some V-relevant contexts; (b) within some Vrelevant contexts, S sometimes engages in V-relevant activity when doing so is called
for; and (c) within some V-relevant contexts, S’s V-relevant activity sometimes is
epistemically motivated.
The characterization of robust virtue includes terms like “wide” and “often.” While not very
precise, what these terms are intended to pick out should be clear enough.19 The same
cannot be said, however, about the terms “some” and “sometimes” employed in the
characterization of minimal virtue. These terms are even less precise and do warrant
further clarification.
The concept of minimal virtue is intended to get at a certain threshold, that is, at
whatever conditions must be satisfied in order for a person to possess a minimal degree of
This causal requirement may be too demanding. If so, then one central condition for intellectual
virtue is less difficult to satisfy than I have suggested, which in turn makes the central claim of this
paper easier to defend. A weaker but less straightforward requirement would be that the
motivation must figure centrally in the explanation of the activity in question. For relevant
discussions, see Miller (2013: 54) and Adams (2006: 137).
17 As indicated by “only if,” these conditions are intended to be necessary; I wish to leave it an open
question whether they are sufficient. More on this below.
18 I am using the term “robust virtue” in a way that resembles but is not identical to Doris’s usage of
this term in (2002). Robust virtue as Doris conceives of it apparently lies somewhere between
robust virtue and maximal virtue as I am thinking of these states.
19 These distinctions are not aimed at a precise identification of determinate and pretheoretically
familiar states of character. The aim is rather to identify certain (possibly somewhat arbitrary)
points along a continuum from minimal to maximal virtue. For this reason, further clarity about
“many” and “often” is unnecessary.
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intellectual virtue.20 Intellectual virtues are personal traits—they reveal something positive
or admirable about their possessor qua person.21 Accordingly, we can understand “some”
and “sometimes” in relation to the minimal requirements for the kind of personal bearing
or significance in question. Specifically, we may stipulate that S “sometimes” engages in Vrelevant activity or does so in “some” V-relevant situations only if, on account of such
activity, S can be characterized by V qua person.22 To illustrate, suppose a person engages
in intellectually thorough activity only very occasionally and only across one or two
relevant contexts. While there need not be a problem with describing this person’s activity
as intellectually thorough, it will not make sense to describe the person herself in these
terms. That is, it will not make sense to think of her as an intellectually thorough person in
any interesting sense.
3. The Situationist Argument
Having distinguished between maximal intellectual virtue, robust intellectual virtue,
and minimal intellectual virtue, we are now in a position to return to the following
argument:
(P2) Intellectual virtues are rare;
(C) Therefore, EIV is a bad idea.
It should now be clear that (P2) might be read as a claim about maximal, robust, or minimal
intellectual virtue. Thus any of the following three premises could be used to mount an
argument against EIV:
(P3) Maximal intellectual virtue is rare.
(P4) Robust intellectual virtue is rare.
(P5) Minimal intellectual virtue is rare.
I turn now to evaluate each of these premises in light of the empirical findings and
corresponding assumptions identified above. I shall refer to this total body of evidence as
(E). Once this examination is complete, I will then turn to consider the validity of the
corresponding arguments.
Does (E) at least provide adequate support for (P3), that is, for the claim that
maximal intellectual virtue (MaxV) is rare? It does if it provides adequate support for
thinking that most people fail to engage in the relevant intellectual activity across one or
more virtue-relevant contexts. One might wonder, however, whether the contexts in
question really are virtue-relevant. Is the fact that someone fails to engage in intellectually
flexible or courageous activity in a rather artificial and low-stakes experimental context
necessarily even a weak indication that the person lacks these traits? While I think the
For more on the idea of virtue as a threshold concept, see Swanton (2003: 24-25) and Miller
(2013: 13-16).
21 For a development of this point, see Baehr (2011: Chs. 6-7) and Adams (2006: Ch. 2).
22 This is not intended as a definition of “some” or “sometimes,” but rather as a criterion for
determining when the relevant conditions have been satisfied.
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matter is debatable, I will assume that the contexts in question are virtue-relevant and thus
that (E) does support (P3). A far more difficult question concerns the implications of (E) for
(P4) and (P5), that is, for the rarity of robust intellectual virtue (RobV) and minimal
intellectual virtue (MinV). I turn now to address this question.
3.1. Scope and Frequency Conditions for RobV and MinV
First let us explore what (E) suggests about the satisfaction of the scope and
frequency conditions for Rob V and MinV. More specifically, the question is whether (E)
supports thinking that most people fall short of frequently (RobV) or sometimes (MinV)
engaging in intellectually flexible or intellectually courageous activity across a wide (RobV)
or at least some (MinV) range of virtue-relevant contexts.
CANDLE-I and LINES show that in certain relevant contexts, most people fail to engage
in certain forms of intellectually flexible or courageous activity. However, this is consistent
with either of the following two possibilities:
(i)
Even in the contexts in question, most people do or would engage in other forms
of intellectually flexible or intellectually courageous activity.
(ii)
In other relevant contexts, most people do or would engage in the targeted or
other forms of intellectually flexible or intellectually courageous activity.
These possibilities point in the direction of two more:
(iii)
Most people frequently engage in intellectually flexible or courageous activity of
one form or another across a wide range of relevant contexts.
(iv)
Most people sometimes (with a “personally significant” frequency) engage in
intellectually flexible or courageous activity of one form or another across some
(“personally significant” range of) relevant contexts.
If (iii) were true, it would follow, contra (P4), that most people satisfy the scope and
frequency conditions for RobV. And if (iv) were correct, it would follow, contra (P5), that
most people satisfy the scope and frequency conditions for MinV. Thus (E) is at least
consistent with the possibility that MinV and even RobV are widespread. This is something
that the situationist can readily agree with. Her retort will be that while (E) may be
consistent with (iii) and (iv), these claims nevertheless are unlikely or improbable given
(E). But this is precisely the claim on which the situationist must make good. To defend
(P4) and (P5), she must show that (iii) and (iv) really are improbable given (E).23
Yet another way to put the point is that the situationist must show that the best or most plausible
explanation of (E) is the thesis that RobV and MinV are rare. As all of these formulations suggest, the
burden of proof is on the situationist: she must show that the evidence favors a situationist
perspective over and against other (more intuitively or experientially plausible) perspectives,
including, for instance, that MinV is not nearly as rare as situationists suggest. Put another way, my
aim is to show that the situationist perspective is not more plausible or a better explanation than
one or more other, non-situationist perspectives.
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Let us come at this question by first considering what (E) suggests about (i) and (ii).
Does (E) provide evidence against (i), which again is the claim that in the experimental
contexts in question, most people engage in other, non-targeted forms of intellectually
flexible or intellectually courageous activity? On the contrary, (E) provides some support
for (i). Recall, for instance, that most of the subjects in LINES assert their belief in the face
of unanimous opposition when the opposition is comprised of a sufficiently small number
of people and in the face of majority opposition that is anything less than unanimous. Why
think that intellectual courage is required for voicing dissent when faced with unanimous
opposition of a certain size but not when that opposition is of a slightly smaller size or
when it is of the same size but just shy of unanimous? To be sure, the former scenario is
likely to require more intellectual courage or intellectual courage of a more challenging or
impressive variety. However, it hardly follows that voicing opposition in the latter
scenarios manifests no intellectual courage at all.24 Because most subjects in LINES register
dissent in the face of unanimous opposition of a certain (non-negligible) size and in the face
of any majority opposition that is less than unanimous, LINES provides some evidence for
thinking that even in the contexts at issue, most people do or would engage in some form of
intellectually courageous activity.
A similar point can be made in connection with CANDLE-I. Recall that most of the
participants successfully completed the candle task when the tacks were presented outside
of the box. It is at least an open question whether in doing so they might have manifested
some intellectual flexibility. While we might expect a maximally intellectually flexible
person to be able to complete the more challenging version of the task, why deny that a
lesser degree or variety of intellectual flexibility might be manifested in the completion of
the less challenging version? Thus CANDLE-I may also provide some evidence for thinking
that even in the present context, most people do or would engage in some form of virtuerelevant activity.
Indeed, it may even be hasty to conclude that the subjects in CANDLE-I and LINES
who fail to engage in the targeted activity also fail to manifest any intellectual flexibility.
Surely the majority of participants who failed to complete the candle task when they were
presented with the tacks inside the box did not sit idle and thoughtless for the duration of
the experiment. Rather, we may assume that many of them thought hard about a possible
solution. And it is not implausible to think that at least some of this mental activity might
have manifested intellectual flexibility—even if not enough or of the right sort to arrive at
the solution.25 In other words, it may be that a number of the subjects in CANDLE-I engage
in intellectually flexible cognitive activity in their (ultimately unsuccessful) attempts to
complete the task. Similarly, it is reported that many of the subjects in LINES who
(verbally) deny the evidence of their senses nevertheless express considerable discomfort
Sabini and Silver (2005: 554-55) and Adams (2006: 129, Ch. 9) make a similar point. As Alfano
(2012: 240, 244, 247) points out, we also expect virtuous acts to be admirable; and it might be
wondered whether the activity in question satisfies this requirement. But here as well my reply is
that while the activity is not maximally admirable (or virtuous), it is minimally so. Alfano seems to
arrive at a similar assessment (240, 247).
25 Nathan King (2014) makes a similar point.
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or regret at having done so. Such discomfort might also be a form or be evidence of lowlevel virtue-relevant activity.26
We have seen that (E), rather than providing evidence against (i), may in fact
support this claim. How, then, does (E) bear on (ii), that is, on the claim that in other
(potentially quite different) virtue-relevant contexts, most people do or would engage in
the targeted or other forms of intellectually flexible or intellectually courageous activity?
Does (E) provide good evidence against this claim? I offer three reasons for thinking that it
does not.
First, we have just seen that many of the participants in both CANDLE-I and LINES
appear to engage in low-level virtue-relevant activity of one sort or another. To the extent
that they do, and to the extent that we can expect them to act similarly in similar contexts,
(E) may in fact provide some support for (ii).
Second, certain aspects of the contexts at issue underscore a problem with trying to
generalize on the behavior that occurs in these contexts.27 It is not difficult to believe, for
instance, that at least some of the subjects in CANDLE-I might have experienced a kind of
awkwardness or unusual pressure in the request to complete the candle task, coming as it
did from a psychological experimenter in a highly controlled environment. Nor is it difficult
to believe that such awkwardness or pressure might have played a role in their failure to
complete the task.28 Suppose, for instance, that the same subjects were asked to complete a
comparable task in a more familiar or natural environment, for example, while reading the
Sunday paper at home, trying to solve a logistical problem at work, or taking an exam at
school. To my mind, it is far from obvious that we should expect the same type or level of
intellectual flexibility in these other contexts that was manifested in the experimental
context.29 A related point applies to LINES. In this experiment, no significant epistemic
good is hanging in the balance. In (verbally) denying the evidence of their senses, the
subjects are not, for instance, failing to voice some conviction that is important to them or
forfeiting access to some important item of knowledge. It is at least an open question
whether, had the epistemic stakes been higher, many of the subjects would have exhibited
greater intellectual courage.30 This is significant given that, paradigmatically, an
For a similar point, see Webber (2006: 204), Kamtekar (2004: 473), Sabini and Silver (2005: 55455), and Swanton (2003: 30-31).
27 Doris (2002: 35-36) acknowledges a problem for situationism along these lines but responds by
noting that the burden is on the critic of situationism to identify reasons for thinking that people’s
behavior might differ or be less susceptible to situational influences in other, non-experimental
contexts. This is a reasonable challenge and one that I attempt to meet below.
28 For the development of a closely related point, see Sabini and Silver (2005: 550-53).
29 For a similar point, see Webber (2006: 197). Moreover, were they disposed to act differently in
these other contexts, there would not appear to be any problem with attributing to them at least a
certain level of intellectual flexibility.
30 For analogous points, see Merritt (2000: 372-75), Kamtekar (2004: 470-76), Sreenivasan (2002:
58), Snow (2010: Ch. 4 and 5); and Mischel and Shoda (1995). Alfano (2012: 244) raises an
opposite question about the stakes involved in the case: he points out that if the threat to the
participants had been more significant (greater than suffering embarrassment for speaking up in
the face of unanimous dissent), then their behavior would likely have been even less impressive. My
concern is not with the threat faced by the participants but rather with what they had to gain by
subjecting themselves to the threat. I agree that had the threat been greater, their actions would
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intellectually courageous person is one who is willing to face certain fears or harms for the
sake of significant epistemic goods. In these respects as well (E) fails to tell significantly
against (ii).
Third, it is extremely important in this context to note that a single intellectual
virtue can be manifested in a very wide and diverse range of cognitive operations or
activities. Consider, for example, the virtue of open-mindedness. Open-mindedness can be
manifested in attempts to understand a difficult or foreign subject matter, the handling of
counterevidence, the assessment of an opponent’s point of view, the imagining of an
original idea or explanation, or a decision about whether to bring an inquiry to a close
(“keeping an open mind”). What exactly open-mindedness demands of a person is likely to
vary considerably from one of these activities to the next.31 This underscores the
importance of not equating one possible and rather fine-grained manifestation of a virtue
with anything like the full range of its characteristic manifestations. The ability to complete
the Duncker candle task is hardly equivalent to the ability to think or reason in an
intellectually flexible manner. Similarly, then, we must not move too quickly from a
person’s failure to engage in a particular fine-grained virtue-relevant activity to the
conclusion that she is unlikely, in the present context or in other virtue-relevant contexts,
to engage in any other fine- or coarse-grained activities characteristic of the same virtue.
This further underscores the evidential gap between (E) and (ii).
I turn now to consider how (E) might bear on (iii) and (iv), which again are as
follows:
(iii)
Most people frequently engage in intellectually flexible or intellectually
courageous activity of one form or another across a wide range of virtue-relevant
contexts.
(iv)
Most people sometimes (with a “personally relevant” frequency) engage in
intellectually flexible or courageous activity of one form or another across some
(“personally relevant” range of) relevant contexts.
Let us begin by considering (iii). Does (E) support the denial of (iii)? Alternatively, does it
indicate that most people fail to frequently engage in intellectually flexible or courageous
activity of one form or another across a wide range of relevant contexts? This is rather
difficult to assess. On the one hand, the fact that the majority of participants fail to engage
in certain forms of intellectually flexible or courageous activity in the present contexts
provides some prima facie evidence for thinking that they will fail to engage in the same or
very similar forms of activity in other relevant contexts. On the other hand, we saw above
that certain features of the present contexts may complicate attempts to extrapolate from
what occurs here to what occurs or is likely to occur in other (more familiar or high-stakes)
contexts. Moreover, when one considers the sum total of the participants’ actions
(including those that appear to be indicative of lower levels of intellectual virtue), and the
likely have been even less intellectually courageous. However, I think that even with the threat
being what it was, the disagreement they did proceed to register was at least minimally admirable
or virtuous.
31 For more on this point, see Baehr (2011: Ch. 9).
11
diversity of activities in which intellectual flexibility or intellectual courage might manifest,
the bearing of (E) on (iii) becomes even less clear. I will not attempt to settle this matter
here. Rather, I will conclude, fairly I hope, that (E) provides some evidence against (iii) but
that this evidence is relatively weak.
Getting a handle on the relationship between (E) and (iv) is less challenging, for (iv)
is a considerably weaker claim than (iii). Again, CANDLE-I and LINES show that in certain
relevant contexts, most people fail to engage in certain forms of intellectually flexible or
courageous activity. But this leaves wide open the possibility that in some (“personally
significant” range of) other relevant contexts, most people sometimes (with a “personally
significant” frequency) engage in other forms of intellectually flexible or courageous
activity. This possibility is especially salient given the other factors just noted: again, the
low-level virtue-relevant activity engaged in by the participants in the experimental
contexts, the artificiality and low-stakes character of these contexts, and the array of forms
that intellectually flexible or courageous activity might take. We may conclude, then, that
(E) fails to provide significant evidence against (iv).
We began by noting that to defend (P4) and (P5) the situationist must make good on
the claim that (iii) and (iv) are improbable in light of (E). By first considering how (E) bears
on (i) and (ii), we have been led to the conclusion that (E) provides some (albeit) weak
evidence against (iii) but that it provides little or no evidence (iv). In these respects, (E)
provides only weak support for (P4) and little or no support for (P5).
3.2. Motivational Conditions for Max V, RobV, and MinV
Thus far our concern has been limited to the satisfaction of the scope and frequency
conditions for MaxV, RobV, and MinV. I turn now to consider what (E) suggests about how
often most people’s virtue-relevant activity satisfies the motivational conditions for these
states. How frequently (always, often, or sometimes) is this activity epistemically
motivated in the manner specified by (EM)?
It is not immediately clear how, if at all, the studies at issue are supposed to bear on
this question. To the extent that the participants in CANDLE-I and LINES fail to engage in
the targeted virtue-relevant activity, the question of whether their virtue-relevant activity
was epistemically motivated is moot. Similarly, to the extent that they engage in or
manifest what we have identified as low-level virtue-relevant activity, it seems difficult to
say much one way or the other about what the motivational basis of this activity might
have been.
While CANDLE-I and LINES do not bear significantly on our question, CANDLE-II
does. Recall that most participants in the group who received candy or were shown a brief
comedy went on to complete the tacks-inside-the-box version of the candle task, while
most participants in the group that was not given a mood enhancer failed to complete the
task. At first glance, this appears to say something significant about the motivation of the
subjects in the first group. Provided that there were no relevant differences between them
and the subjects in the second group, it suggests that their motivation had more to do with
the candy or comedy than it did with any epistemic end or goal. More specifically, it
appears to tell in favor of the following two claims:
(v)
The enhancers are the reason the majority of subjects in the first group
performed the intellectually flexible activity in question.
12
(vi)
And therefore this activity was not epistemically motivated in the sense specified
by (EM).
However, both of these claims are problematic.
Contra (v), the fact that most of the people in question engaged in intellectually
flexible activity only when given mood enhancers does not show that the enhancers were
the reason or cause of this activity. Rather, as the very notion of an “enhancer” suggests, a
more plausible interpretation is that the enhancers served to stimulate or boost—to the
point of causal efficacy—an existing motivational structure or mechanism. We shall return
to this point below.
On one way of understanding (vi), the claim is that the enhancers introduced a new,
non-epistemic motive and that this motive was the cause of the relevant activity. However,
the enhancer did not introduce a new motive, at least in the sense of introducing a new end
or goal. By all appearances, the goal of the participants was still to complete the task at
hand. Together with the point in the previous paragraph, this underscores the possibility
that the participants’ intellectually flexible activity was in fact epistemically motivated in
the sense specified by (EM).
While this point tells against (vi), it exposes a problem with (EM). For, as the
situationist will be quick to point out, we expect even minimally virtuous persons to be
capable of engaging in virtue-relevant activity without the assistance of mood enhancers or
similar expedients. We must, then, amend the foregoing account of epistemic motivation.
One way of doing so is as follows:
(EM*) S’s V-relevant activity is “epistemically motivated” in the relevant sense just in
case it is (a) motivated by an epistemic good as such and this motivation is (b) strong
enough to cause the activity and (c) does not depend on any enhancers or similar
expedients.
But (EM*) is too strong, for contrary to what is suggested by much of the situationist
literature, reliance on mood enhancers and the like is not necessarily inconsistent with
virtue-possession. Suppose, for instance, that a person is disposed to engage in a certain
type of virtue-relevant activity but only when she has taken her allergy medication, an
antidepressant, or some related substance. Or imagine that she can be relied upon to
manifest the relevant ability but only under conditions of relative quiet or only when she
has had her daily jolt of caffeine. The efficacy of this person’s virtue-relevant disposition is
contingent on the presence of certain situational facilitators.32 Yet it is not all clear that her
disposition fails to count as a virtue. This suggests that certain kinds of situational
dependence or contingency are consistent with virtue possession while others are not.33 I
cannot pause here to try to get at the difference. For our purposes, it is enough to make a
It does not follow from this that an epistemic motive is not the cause of the activity. For, again, the
idea is that the expedients, rather than introducing a new motive, serve to bolster or enhance an
existing epistemic motive. For more on the claim that virtues can be “fragile” in this sense, see
Adams (2006: Ch. 9).
33 For a similar point, see Sabini and Silver (2005: 504).
32
13
distinction between “problematic” and “unproblematic” dependence on facilitators. This in
turn motivates the following amended version of (EM*):
(EM**) S’s V-relevant activity is “epistemically motivated” in the relevant sense just
in case it is (a) motivated by an epistemic good as such and this motivation is (b)
strong enough to cause the activity and (c) does not exhibit problematic dependence
on any enhancers or similar situational expedients.
We are now in a better position to consider what CANDLE-II suggests about the
satisfaction of the motivational condition for MaxV. Given the plausible assumption that
reliance on candy and comedies is problematic in the sense just noted, we may conclude
that CANDLE-II supports the claim that the intellectually flexible activity of most people
fails to satisfy the motivational condition for MaxV, which again stipulates that one’s virtuerelevant activity must always be epistemically motivated in the relevant sense.
Next we need to consider what CANDLE-II might suggest about the satisfaction of
the motivational conditions for RobV and MinV. The motivational condition for RobV says
that, within a wide range of virtue-relevant contexts, one’s virtue-relevant activity must
often be epistemically motivated, while the motivational condition for MinV stipulates that,
within some (“personally significant” range of) virtue-relevant contexts, one’s virtuerelevant activity must sometimes (with a “personally significant” frequency) be
epistemically motivated. Here again our question is whether or the extent to which
CANDLE-II makes it plausible to think most people fail to satisfy these conditions. To
answer this question, it will be helpful to consider the extent to which CANDLE-II provides
support for the following two claims:
(vii)
Most people’s intellectually flexible activity is often epistemically motivated in
the relevant sense only in a narrow range of relevant contexts.
(viii) Most people’s intellectually flexible activity is sometimes (with a “personally
significant” frequency) epistemically motivated in the relevant sense only in a
very narrow (less than “personally significant”) range of relevant contexts.
CANDLE-II supports the claim that most people fail to satisfy the motivational condition for
RobV only if it supports (vii) and it supports the claim that most people fail to satisfy the
motivational condition for MinV only if it supports (viii).
Does CANDLE-II support (vii)? CANDLE-II shows that most people’s performance of
certain intellectually flexible actions within a certain relevant context is problematically
dependent on a certain sort of situational facilitator and thus is not epistemically motivated
in the relevant sense. While this might make us wonder whether most people’s
performance of other intellectually flexible actions or of similar intellectually flexible
actions in other contexts would also fail to satisfy the requirements specified in (EM**),
there are at least two sorts of reasons for thinking that CANDLE-II does not provide
significant support for (vii).34
The question is not, of course, whether it is reasonable to think that most people’s intellectually
flexible activity in other relevant contexts is similarly dependent on their receiving candy or
34
14
The first sort concerns the narrowness of the activity targeted in CANDLE-II. As
noted above, intellectual flexibility should not be equated with the ability to solve the
Duncker candle task. Rather, the virtue of intellectual flexibility can be manifested in an
array of finer and coarser-grained cognitive activities. This opens up the possibility that
while most people’s performance of the specific activity targeted in CANDLE-II falls short
(on account of its dependence on mood enhancers) of being epistemically motivated, there
exist other forms of intellectually flexible activity most people’s performance of which is or
would be epistemically motivated. We have seen, for instance, that some forms of
intellectually flexible activity are more demanding than others. Therefore, there may be
forms of intellectually flexible activity most people’s performance of which is or would be
less dependent on situational facilitators and therefore is or would be epistemically
motivated in the relevant sense. Alternatively, there may be forms of intellectually flexible
activity that are significantly different from (albeit no less demanding than) the kind of
thinking required by the candle task, such that most people’s performance of this activity
also is or would be epistemically motivated. These possibilities underscore the problem
with trying to extend the account of epistemic motivation applicable in CANDLE-II to other
forms of intellectually flexible activity performed in the present or other relevant contexts.
The second sort of reason concerns the context of CANDLE-II. Several features of
this context also pose an obstacle to generalizing very broadly on the results in question.
One is the fact, noted above, that there is no significant epistemic good (actual or
perceived) at stake in this context. To the extent that a person’s completion of the candle is
susceptible of epistemic motivation at all, the epistemic good at issue must be something
like the solving of a puzzle. This is not an especially inspiring epistemic end. Thus, if we are
interested in measuring the extent to which people’s intellectually flexible activity is
epistemically motivated in the sense relevant to possessing an intellectual virtue, we would
be much better off examining this activity in contexts in which there is a significant
epistemic good at stake or in which the persons in question are genuinely curious or
motivated by a desire for truth.35 A second and related reason concerns the awkwardness
or artificiality of the target context. Again, these features might have a relatively unique
hampering effect on people’s epistemic motivation—an effect that would be absent from
more natural or normal epistemic contexts.36 This points to a third possibility, namely, that
watching a comedy. Rather, the question is whether, given CANDLE-II, it is reasonable think that
most people’s intellectually flexible activity is problematically dependent on some kind of
situational facilitator or other, be it a favorable mood, artificial priming, or some other factor.
35 The latter point is similar to claims others (e.g. Flanagan 1991; Merritt 2000; Kamtekar 2004;
Russell 2009; Snow 2010; Cokelet 2014) have made in defense of virtue ethics vis-à-vis situationist
objections: e.g. that when it comes to determining to what extent (if any) people possess moral
virtues, we ought look primarily at how they behave in the context of their deeply held
commitments or intimate relationships (not in relation to strangers) or in contexts they deem or
construe as morally important. Indeed, even Nisbett and Ross (1991) emphasize the importance of
subjective construal in this regard. Similarly, then, it may be that to determine the extent to which
people possess intellectual virtues, we ought to examine their intellectual activity with respect to
questions or subjects they have an intrinsic interest in, construe as worth knowing, and so on.
36 As noted earlier, I am assuming that while susceptibility to such effects might not be consistent
with the highest degrees of virtue, it is consistent with lower degrees, particularly if the person’s
virtue-relevant activity is regularly epistemically motivated in more normal or natural contexts.
15
the enhancers do not actually supply a motivational boost that otherwise would be absent,
but rather serve to cut through or mitigate the awkwardness or artificiality just noted.
Watching the comedy might, for instance, cause subjects to loosen up or feel more
comfortable, thereby allowing their normal or standing epistemic motivation to take
effect—an effect it would automatically have in wide range of other, less artificial but still
virtue-relevant contexts.37
Taken together, the foregoing considerations suggest that CANDLE-II does not
provide much support for (vii). That is, it does not provide much support for the claim that
most people’s intellectually flexible activity is often epistemically motivated in the relevant
sense only in a narrow range of relevant contexts. Ipso facto, neither does it support the
claim that most people’s intellectually flexible activity fails to satisfy the motivational
condition for RobV. I am not claiming, of course, that most people’s intellectually flexible
activity does satisfy this condition. Rather, my claim is merely that neither CANDLE-II nor
any other element of (E) provides a good reason to think otherwise. Given the earlier
discussion of (E) and its bearing on the satisfaction of the scope and frequency conditions
for RobV, we may conclude that on the whole (E) provides only modest support for (P4)
and thus also for the argument against EIV based on this premise.
Given the conclusion just reached about the (very limited) bearing of CANDLE-II on
(vii), it should be no surprise that this bearing is even weaker in connection with (viii),
which again is the claim that most people’s intellectually flexible activity is sometimes (with
a “personally significant” frequency) epistemically motivated in the relevant sense only in a
very narrow (less than “personally significant”) range of relevant contexts. That is to say,
the obstacles just identified to generalizing on CANDLE-II in the attempt to support (vii)
apply with even greater force to any attempt to defend (viii) on the basis of CANDLE-II. We
may conclude that CANDLE-II also fails to support (viii). When combined with the earlier
discussion of (E) and its significance regarding the satisfaction of the scope and frequency
conditions for MinV, this warrants the further conclusion that (E) as a whole provides little
if any support for (P5) and thus also for the argument against EIV based on this premise.
3.3 Taking Stock
The cognitive character manifested by participants in CANDLE-I, CANDLE-II, and
LINES exhibits clear weaknesses and limitations. We have found that these limitations are
good evidence for the claim that MaxV is a rare phenomenon. However their bearing on the
possession of RobV and MinV is considerably less significant. Specifically, they provide only
weak support for thinking that RobV is rare; and they provide little to no support for
thinking that MinV is rare. Indeed, we have found that the research is consistent with—and
in certain respects may even favor—the claim that MinV (and to a lesser extent RobV) is
relatively widespread.
Before returning to the question of how these findings bear on EIV, I want briefly to
acknowledge three limitations of the discussion up to this point. First, as noted early on, my
focus has been limited to two main sets of experimental findings. While I have made several
concessions to the situationist in an effort to compensate for this limitation, the point
remains that if there are or come to be other empirical findings that clearly bear on the
possession of specific intellectual (vs. moral) virtues, some revision of the foregoing
In this case, we might have to take back the concession that CANDLE-II shows that most people’s
intellectually flexible activity fails to satisfy the motivational condition for MaxV.
37
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arguments or conclusions may be in order. Second, the plausibility of the situationist
account of intellectual virtue depends in part on the availability and plausibility of
alternative accounts or explanations of the relevant data. I have gestured at an alternative
explanation here: namely, that at least MinV is a fairly widespread phenomenon. However,
I have done little to fill out the details of this account or to consider all of its merits.38 To
this extent the present examination and critique of situationism remains incomplete. Third,
while the conditions specified for the three levels of intellectual virtue are necessary, I have
left it an open question whether they are sufficient. This underscores the possibility that
there exist other necessary conditions for, say, MinV, which in turn opens up the possibility
that while (E) does not support thinking that most people fail to satisfy the conditions for
MinV identified above, it does support thinking that they fail to satisfy one or more of these
additional conditions. These are further possibilities that a more exhaustive treatment of
the issues would need to take into consideration.
4. Is the Situationist Argument Valid?
Earlier in the paper we noted three possible variations on a situationist argument
against EIV the central premises of which were, respectively, (P3), (P4), and (P5). Again, we
have found that (E) provides strong support for (P3), modest support for (P4), and little or
no support for (P5). In the present section I turn to consider the validity of these
arguments. I contend that even if their central premises were true, EIV would remain a
viable enterprise. As this suggests, while the situationist case against EIV already looks
relatively weak, its prospects are even poorer than what has been suggested by the
discussion up to this point.
(P3) is the claim that MaxV is rare. This claim is well supported by (E) and by
ordinary experience. Does the truth of (P3) somehow threaten the viability of EIV? As
indicated earlier in the paper, the goal of EIV is not intellectual perfection. Rather, EIV is
aimed at fostering meaningful or significant growth in intellectual virtues. But surely such
growth might be possible even if MaxV is and remains a rare phenomenon. It leaves
entirely open the possibility that, for instance, either MinV or RobV can be fostered on a
wide scale. Were educators capable, over a reasonable period of time, of fostering character
growth of this sort, this would be a significant achievement indeed. Thus (P3) by itself does
little to threaten EIV.
What if (P4) or (P5) were also true? What might follow from the rarity of RobV or
MinV? At first glance, this could seem like a more serious problem for EIV. For it could
seem, first, as if EIV would likely benefit only a small minority of students; and, second, that
EIV would thereby constitute a highly questionable expenditure of time and other scarce
educational resources. In the remainder of this section, I explain why neither of these
impressions is correct.
The rarity of MinV or RobV might in fact be viewed as a reason in support of EIV.39
Few would deny that a higher incidence of MinV or RobV would be a desirable state of
affairs. Indeed, given that the quality (even moral quality) of our actions depends in part on
the quality of the beliefs that guide these actions (Montmarquet 1993), this could have
major benefits from an epistemic, moral, and civic point of view. Thus the rarity of RobV or
I do some of this work in “Is Intellectual Character Growth a Realistic Educational Goal?”
(typescript).
39 See Sosa (2009: 286) and King (2014: 251) for similar points.
38
17
MinV could be viewed as underscoring an urgent need for intellectual character education.
At a minimum, any existing lack of intellectual virtue should not by itself be regarded as a
problem for EIV. For, EIV is not something that has been widely attempted and found
wanting. On the contrary, understood as systematic and explicit undertaking, attempts to
educate for growth in intellectual virtues are in their infancy.40
Suppose, however, that we were eventually to learn that even our best efforts at EIV
warrant pessimism about fostering RobV or MinV for anything but a minority of students.
Would this tell significantly against EIV? Here as well it can seem that it would, for it is
tempting to think that by adopting an educational approach that benefits only a minority of
students, the majority of students would suffer. There are, however, several good reasons
for doubting that this would be the case.
First, part of why it may be tempting to think that a majority of students would be
worse off in such a scenario is the assumption that EIV is an alternative to educating for
more traditional educational aims like the transmission of knowledge or the fostering of
various intellectual skills. Thus if the focus were on intellectual character growth, and only
a minority of students could be expected to experience significant levels of such growth, it
could seem that the knowledge and skills of the majority of students would suffer.
However, as I have argued elsewhere (Baehr 2013), EIV is not an alternative to educating
for knowledge and intellectual skills. It is rather a way of doing so—a way that is aimed at
producing deep understanding of important content, that promotes wondering and asking
questions, encourages intellectual risk-taking, includes structured opportunities to practice
intellectual virtues, and so on. Accordingly, the cost of EIV, vis-à-vis more traditional
educational aims, is apparently minimal.41
Second, even if EIV were found to promote significant intellectual character growth
for only a minority of students, the majority of students might still reap certain
characterological benefits. It is a familiar complaint about many current educational
systems and practices that they serve to diminish students’ curiosity, imagination,
intellectual autonomy, and related traits (Kohn 1993; Stipek and Seal 2001). In doing so,
they apparently weaken or damage students’ intellectual character. Therefore, even if
educators were unable to bring about positive intellectual character growth in a majority of
their students, they might still be able to limit a kind of characterological fallout or atrophy
that otherwise would occur. Taken together with the previous point about the low cost of
EIV vis-à-vis goals like the transmission of knowledge and the cultivation of intellectual
skills, this actually tells in favor of EIV.
Third, the (questionable) assumption that significant growth in RobV or MinV
cannot be fostered on a wide scale is compatible even with the possibility that EIV is
See nt. 8 above for some of the relevant literature. Alfano (2013: Ch. 7) argues along with Dweck
(2006) and others that virtue-ascriptions function like self-fulfilling prophecies. If this is right, it
supports the present point and sheds light on an important strategy for promoting intellectual
character growth.
41 One possible cost is that the breadth of topics a teacher can get through when educating for
intellectual character growth may be more limited than if her objective is merely (say) the
transmission of cursory knowledge or the fostering of certain rudimentary problem-solving skills.
Because intellectual virtues aim at conceptual or explanatory understanding of important subject
matters (Baehr 2014), EIV favors instruction that prioritizes depth over breath.
40
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capable of effecting some positive intellectual character growth for a majority of students.
Specifically, it allows for the possibility of fostering widespread growth in what might be
referred to as “respective virtue.” It might, that is, help a number of students to develop
certain facets of virtues or to be become virtuous in certain respects. For instance, it might
help students learn to think carefully and thoroughly, ask insightful questions, or persevere
in the face of struggle within a certain relatively narrow range of contexts.42 While ex
hypothesi respective virtue falls below the threshold of MinV, an ability to systematically
foster facets of virtues would be nothing to discount.43 Provided, again, that the cost of EIV
is not too substantial, this is further support for EIV—support that obtains even given an
inability to foster widespread RobV or MinV.
A fourth and final reason concerns the way in which intellectual virtues can function
as regulative ideals. Intellectual virtues are broadly attractive and compelling personal
traits. In their purest or most exemplary form, they inspire intellectual respect and
admiration.44 Even if teachers cannot expect to help a majority of their students satisfy the
requirements for RobV or MinV, the very activity of reflecting on and pursuing growth in
intellectual virtues can add meaning and value to the educational process. It can bring a
kind of depth and richness to this process that is sorely lacking in educational settings
dominated by the memorization of information, an obsessive concern with state standards,
“teaching to the test,” or the kind of crass careerism prevalent in some university settings.
Treating intellectual virtues as a regulative ideal can also have significant benefits in
connection with other educational goals and values like conceptual understanding,
academic rigor, metacognition, and critical thinking. These and several related concepts are
closely related to the notion of good or virtuous intellectual character.45 Given the rich,
specific, and compelling nature of the traits that comprise such character, serious reflection
on and attention to these traits can help teachers and students better understand these
other goals and be more inclined to pursue them. In other words, treating intellectual
character growth as an educational ideal can provide a personal and attractive framework
for understanding, integrating, and pursuing several other important educational aims.46
Such value is independent of any intellectual character growth that might or might not
result from this approach.
King (2014: 251) makes a similar point.
This may be a matter of fostering the sorts of dispositions that many situationists are willing to
ascribe to many people. See, for example, (Doris 2002: 62, 115-16) and (Alfano 2013: 65). It is also
similar to what Adams (2006: 125-30) and Flanagan (1991: 268-75) describe as “modules” of
virtue.
44 For an example of how even scholarly work on intellectual virtues can be informative and
personally edifying, see Roberts and Wood (2007).
45 As noted above, any plausible approach to EIV will place a premium on facilitating deep
explanatory understanding of important subject matters. In doing so, it will necessarily be
academically rigorous. As I argue in Baehr (2013), the best approaches to EIV will also involve the
promotion of self-knowledge, in particular, knowledge of one’s intellectual character strengths and
weaknesses. As such, they will promote the kind of self-reflection and self-understanding that is
central to “metacognitive” strategies and approaches (Ritchhart, Church, and Morrison 2011).
46 Miller (2013: 208) makes a similar point about the regulative role of virtue concepts. See also
Merritt (2000: 372).
42
43
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We have considered several reasons for thinking that even if (P3) – (P5) were true,
EIV would remain an important and viable enterprise. Again, the rarity of MaxV leaves wide
open the possibility that educators can foster substantial and significant progress in
intellectual virtues. Moreover, even if both RobV and MinV were also rare, several reasons
in support of EIV would remain. Some of these reasons are characterological in nature (e.g.
the possibility of significant characterological improvement, the minimization of
characterological atrophy or damage, and the fostering of “respective” virtue). Others point
to value in EIV that lies beyond the characterological domain (e.g. the addition of depth and
meaning to the educational process and the provision of a framework for understanding
and pursuing other important educational goals).
5. The Remaining Relevance of Situationist Research
We are finally in position to see that the situationist challenge fails to pose a
significant threat to EIV. However, this conclusion underscores a new question: can
proponents and practitioners of EIV therefore safely disregard situationist psychology? In
this final section, I briefly defend a negative answer to this question.
Though we have thus far been focusing on the limitations of the situationist
research vis-à-vis EIV, it would be a mistake to conclude that this research fails to reveal
any widespread characterological limitations or vulnerabilities. LINES, for example, shows
that, to a greater extent than commonsense would predict, some of our intellectual
activities (e.g. speaking our minds) are constrained by situational (e.g. social) factors. And
CANDLE-II reveals some ways in which what might initially seem like cognitively
insignificant factors (e.g. mood) can have a significant bearing on a person’s ability or
motivation to perform certain virtue-relevant tasks.
Viable approaches to EIV must take account of what situationist research suggests
about the limitations of the intellectual character of most people.47 Thus practitioners of
EIV should, among other things, be cautious about adopting overly optimistic or ambitious
characterological goals. Given that intellectual virtues are often conceived of as ideals, it
can be tempting to view the goal of EIV as the radical transformation of every student’s
intellectual character. But it should now be clear how structuring one’s pedagogy or an
entire educational program around such a goal could be misguided and potentially
damaging.48 Situationist research should also have an effect on which virtues educators
decide to focus on and how they conceive of these traits. In particular, situationist findings
underscore the importance of intellectual humility and related virtues. Intellectual humility
can be understood as a kind of alertness to and “ownership” of one’s cognitive limitations,
defects, or mistakes. Accordingly, if I am trying to promote the intellectual character
growth of my students, I might draw on situationist research to help my students better
understand what their cognitive limitations and vulnerabilities are and to encourage them
to accept or “own” (rather than deny or ignore) them. Finally, the best approaches to EIV
will also draw on situationist research when it comes to designing activities, assignments,
or other “interventions” aimed at fostering intellectual character growth. Knowing the
A similar point is made by Sosa (2009: nt. 20). Doris, while suggesting that one must choose
between fostering character growth and taking situationist empirical findings seriously (2002: 111112, 121, 146), eventually seems to acknowledge that the latter may play a fruitful role vis-à-vis the
former (151-52).
48 Doris sketches some of these problems in (1998: 517).
47
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influence that certain social factors can exert on the intellectual activity of my students, for
instance, I might create frequent opportunities for them to confront some of their
intellectual fears in a “safe” environment. And in other respects as well I might work to
create a classroom culture in which things like intellectual risk-taking are valued as much
or more than things like speed and accuracy (Ritchhart 2002: Ch. 2).49
Of course, situationist psychology is not alone in meriting serious attention in this
context. Other bodies of psychological research should also play a role in efforts to foster
intellectual character growth. This includes research in developmental psychology,
cognitive psychology, attachment theory, and positive psychology. 50 However, the point I
wish to emphasize at present is that while situationist research is not a threat to EIV,
neither is it irrelevant. The best approaches to EIV will be informed and constrained by
situationist insights.51
References
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-----. (2012). “Expanding the Situationist Challenge to Responsibilist Virtue Epistemology,”
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Asch, Solomon. (1963). “Effects of Group Pressure upon the Modification and Distortion of
Judgments,” Groups, Leadership and Men: Research in Human Relations, ed. Harold
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-----. (2014). “Sophia,” Virtues and Their Vices, eds. Kevin Timpe and Craig Boyd (Oxford:
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For some similar suggestions, see Battaly (2014), Alfano (2013: 178-79), Merritt (2000: 372-75),
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50 For a discussion of developmental psychology and character education, see Berkowitz (2012).
See Porter (forthcoming) for ways that attachment theory can inform attempts to foster intellectual
character growth. The work of Peterson and Seligman in positive psychology (2004) sheds light on
several character strengths relevant to moral and intellectual character education. Likewise,
psychologist Carol Dweck’s work on “mindsets” (2006) has obvious bearing on character education
broadly construed.
51 I am grateful to Michael Pace, Heather Battaly, Anne Baril, Lani Watson, Allan Hazlett, and the
students in my fall 2014 graduate seminar on virtue epistemology for helpful conversations about
this material.
49
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