The Wombat File Is Yours to Keep

The problem with wanting one's Saturday fix of " Morning Edition" is that in and among the good (if sometimes predictable in outlook) array of general news pieces is the tendency of the producers to pick from among the most fatuous of our nation's ready-for-radio public intellectuals is doubled and redoubled on the weekend versions of the show. This morning brought a great example in the form of this interview with University of Chattanooga professor Bill McClay, on...wait for it...modesty. It was occaisioned, it seems, by McClay's essay in this journal (a product of the science-n-theology mashup that is the John Templeton Foundation).

The interview itself was of a piece with the harmless timewasting that I should know NPR well enough to expect on a Saturday morning. For every worthwhile feature there's one like this one. McClay's opinings caught my ear though, because, in his effort to spin some relatively uncomplicated social-conservative dicta about how nobody is modest anymore, and of course the Victorians were right, and we've coarsened ourselves with our lack of respect for this pivotal virtue...he manages to miss the one compelling argument I can think of for elevating modesty to the first rank among desirable social virtues. McClay's main point is an ecumenical but largely Christian one. He points to the emphasis on modesty in the Garden of Eden story, and also in the Song of Songs, and uses these examples to claim that we need to both acknowledge our fundamentally imperfect nature and to protect (as a "garden enclosed" in Solomonic terms) certain parts of our lives from the destructive exposure to the public world -- the obvious referent in the latter case is either sexuality or the purity of the soul itself.

He doesn't try too hard, however, to play up the sexual angle -- his hobbyhorse is really boasting, or claiming the importance of ones achievements. There's nothing at all wrong about protesting this, in my opinion, except that he makes an argument which leans more heavily than it needs to on the Bible -- and seems, not incidentally, to chiefly serve to bring in the Good Book as a "foundation" of our morality without demonstrating why that might be so. I suppose it's to be expected -- but I'll maintain that there's a stronger case for personal modesty as a virtue, based on nothing more than the demonstrable value of sensitivity toward the complicated world.

I think it makes sense to be modest, because however wonderful we think we or our achievements are, a moment's reflection reminds us of how little others know about what goes on inside of our minds or hearts. And another moment's reflection ought to lead to the converse suspicion that we know too little about others to adequately compare our achievements or talents to theirs. We don't know their histories, the obstacles they've faced, the distractions their lives provide. Or the things (wonderful or awful) they've done which haven't come to our attention. This isn't to say we should never believe that we deserve notice, credit, or praise. Just that we should remember all the times our achievements or accomplishments have been overlooked whenever we put any stock in our own public profile.

This isn't coming out as convincing as I'd hoped. But I'll leave it stand -- as evidence of my faith that I'll probably post something even worse tomorrow. Anyway, after all that, what I really want to say is this: if you want to see an example of someone really go off the rails in pursuit of unnamed (but clearly very hated) academic and cultural rivals, read McClay's essay in full. Especially the part where he goes to Cape May, and has the misfortune to dislike the B&B!