Three summers ago, on a road trip with friends through Idaho, I spent several days with a family that ran a sprawling cattle feedlot. Early one morning, when all of us were enjoying bacon and talking about mule deer spreads, a silver-tipped old man walked in for breakfast.
Walter, a hefty-framed grandfather, exuded authority from the wide gestures of his massive hands to the fluid way he slid into the worn dent of his leather armchair. His presence immediately affected the family’s demeanor. Instinctively, they sat up straighter, spoke more carefully and glanced at Walter’s face for approval.
Later that afternoon, Phyllis, his daughter, told me he started their feedlot and, despite nearing 90, continued to manage the day-to-day operations. The family and staff trusted only him because his unflappable integrity and strength of character held the business erect over the years.
Our meeting was brief, but in private, I later found myself thinking about Walter and Phyllis on more than one occasion. There was nothing exceptional about the way he looked, but his actions conjured an energy and goodness that most people can only write about and pray for. He wore upon him a cloak of personal integrity woven so seamlessly into his expressions and actions that even strangers could see, however intangibly, that this was a man of fortitude.
But character for the general public remains a quintessentially amorphous term much harder to identify. Etymologically, “character” comes from the Greek, meaning “to make a mark.” To have strong character then, is to make one’s mark on the world. A more practical definition of the term is much harder to find: Ask a room of 200 people to define “character,” and receive 200 answers. Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart’s judgment on obscenity, “I know it when I see it” may well apply. It’s easy to think of grandiose qualities to aspire to possess in our lofty moments. But practically, how do we do this; how do we become more like Walter?
To cultivate strength of character requires a recognition and active cultivation of ethical habits. At Duke, we have the luxury to frequently engage with ethics. There are theory and application-based ethics courses in the philosophy, political science and public policy departments as well as an ethics certificate. One of the modes of inquiry requires students “to assess critically the consequences of actions, both individual and societal” at least twice in their Duke careers.
Outside of the classroom, opportunities for ethical discussion abound. Student groups, house courses and guest speakers attempt to answer questions such as what makes a good decision and how to live a good life. Not short of resources, students who fail to take advantage of such opportunities to learn about ethical frameworks or how others make difficult decisions are lacking a critical component of their liberal arts education.
But these outlets are not enough.
Although Duke provides various avenues for participation, such diverse options remain piecemeal and disjointed. Few demand sustained personal engagement and commitment to ethical inquiry. To truly adopt strength of character as a habit of lifestyle, one must make ethics personal. Creating and justifying one’s own framework of morality requires rigorous ethical synthesis and candid introspection. This entails willpower and endurance, no different from learning in the classroom or on the basketball court.
To construct your own definition of character, and assess yourself according to its quality metrics, you can start by reading books on ethics such as Joshua Halberstam’s “Everyday Ethics” or Simon Blackburn’s “Being Good.” You can ask friends and acquaintances about how they make their moral decisions. You can take a step back and really focus on analytically digesting a morally challenging question.
Perhaps the hardest part about cultivating character is maintaining the conviction that the efforts are worthwhile. We need to treat character-building as an exercise until the habit of ethical decision-making aligns with our sense of self. Then we might hold the power, like Walter, to inspire complete strangers to do the same.
Courtney Han is a Trinity senior. Her column runs every other Friday.
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