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This engagement with theory, while fascinating on its own, led me to realize something: I couldn’t outline my own specific moral code, and I took that as a pretty significant issue. I grew up in a household without religion—my parents didn’t practice any so neither did I—so I had almost no engagement with the religious aspects of morality. Sure, I had still been instilled with moral values just in the way I was raised, but trusting my gut feelings about morality in action was not a satisfying enough guide for how to live. Practice without theory is hollow, and I was especially worried about the implications of contradicting previous moral statements or actions simply because I felt it was right in the moment. Furthermore, this semester especially, I have felt rather unmotivated and undisciplined in my everyday life. After a particularly challenging day of struggling to find the motivation to complete some especially taxing classwork, I decided to try applying in everyday life some of the elements of philosophical theory that spoke to me.
By beginning to employ Kant’s categorical imperative—that is, to respect the autonomy of all human beings, treat others as they treat you, and never act in a way that would cease to exist were it to become a universal law—I had a solid framework upon which to base the moral permissibility of my actions. To provide an example of the categorical imperative in action, let’s imagine a scenario where a man is nearly running late for an important business meeting as he stops by a coffee shop. There is a long line to order, so the man cuts the line to get his coffee and get to his important meeting on time. This violates the categorical imperative in three ways: he violates other people’s autonomy by keeping them from ordering in their own time and assuming his schedule is more important than theirs; he fails to treat others how they treat him by cutting in front of them while they wait patiently in line; and if cutting the line became a universal law, meaning everyone did it, there would cease to be a line to cut and so the act of cutting in line would become impossible. Therefore, the man cutting the line is morally impermissible, regardless of the consequence of getting to his important meeting on time. This highlights another reason Kantian ethics really appealed to me: their deontological nature. Kantian ethics are non-consequentialist, meaning that the moral value of an action is dependent on its intent and not its outcome. This means that as long as one means to do good with their action, it is morally right (assuming it follows the categorical imperative) regardless of its consequence, as opposed to the terrifying unknowability of consequentialist ethical theory where an action’s ends may justify any means. My employment of the categorical imperative didn’t necessarily change how I acted, but it gave me a solid reason to explain why I acted the way I did. This “why” was important to me, as it meant that I wouldn’t have the opportunity to act differently situation to situation, potentially being unfair to others in my moral dealings.
Although Kantian ethics provided a solution in finding a concrete moral framework, they didn’t necessarily help with my motivation and self-discipline or provide specific goals for self- improvement. This is where Aristotelian virtue ethics became invaluable to me. Aristotle suggested that the goal of the human function is to attain flourishing happiness, which can be worked toward by living a life of virtue. His ethics aim towards taking a middle course in all action, steering away from one’s disposition to act a certain way and towards a perfect, golden mean. For example, he would say that one who is naturally cowardly should push themselves to be more fearless and brazen to reach the golden mean of bravery. On the opposite hand, if one was naturally brash, they should habituate themselves to shrink from conflict to reach that same mean. Although this specific application of virtue theory is less applicable in contemporary times, the value of being intentional in all action and letting reason mold one into a better version of themself is why I have attempted to apply it in my life.
Finally, I have found Aurelian stoicism to be very helpful in boosting my motivation and self-discipline. Like Aristotle, Marcus Aurelius emphasizes the importance of allowing reason to reign over appetite and spirit. He also harps on the breakneck passage of time and the importance of living well while one still lives. These points, I feel, have provided the most utility in my personal life. I feel like appetite rules most of humanity today—myself included—what with the insane emphasis our society places on consumerism, the rampant small-hit dopamine addictions that arise from doom-scrolling social media, and the fact that almost every want is just an arm’s length away. Humans are maybe the only rational species on our planet. It is in our nature that reason should rule us, yet our ability to satisfy our appetite seems to have grown out of reason’s control in recent times. Like Aurelius says, life is unbearably short on the grand scale of things. I want to spend mine intentionally living to the fullest extent, and for me that means ensuring that reason rules me. Though I certainly haven’t been perfect at achieving this goal so far, I have been working to cut my screen time, go to the gym regularly, and make genuine connections with more people around campus. I have already noticed an improvement in my self-discipline, motivation, and mental health from doing so, and I hope to continue seeing improvement as I work on continuing to better myself.
Could I have done these things without engaging with philosophy? Sure. Practical knowledge tells us that doing things like working out, reducing screen time, and living intentionally helps increase natural endorphins, stabilize dopamine levels, and raise serotonin levels, each making a person feel better mentally and physically. In my personal experience, however, reasoning through and applying a philosophical argument in life better conveys the “why” of why one should act a certain way. It strengthens the mind, improving logic and reasoning in other subjects. It allows one to better understand their own mind and the thinking processes of others. And, frankly, it’s just a lot of fun. Aristotle claims that philosophy itself is the highest human good because it is self-fulfilling and completely intangible, putting it closest to the divine. Although I don’t know if I fully agree with that claim, I seriously enjoy philosophy’s study and application. With its continued practice, I hope to habituate myself to lead a better life.
Connor is a McConnell Scholar in the class of 2028 at the University of Louisville. He studies political science and history.