How Habits Make Us Virtuous

Nancy E. Snow

Marquette University

Introduction

In traditional philosophical accounts of virtue, such as

Aristotle’s, virtues are assumed to be global traits, that is,

traits that are consistently manifested in actions across

different types of situations. For example, if someone is

considered honest in the Aristotelian sense, she can reliably be

expected to be honest in business transactions, when under oath

in court, in conversations with her spouse, and so on.

Contemporary virtue ethicists generally follow Aristotle in this

assumption. Contemporary virtue ethicists also typically endorse

Aristotle’s rich conception of virtue or something quite like it.

On this view, virtues are character states or dispositions that

are entrenched in the sense of being deep-seated parts of

someone’s personality, and are temporally enduring. Virtues

reliably give rise to virtuous actions, that is, actions that are

motivated by the desire to act virtuously in the circumstances,

1

and are guided by practical rationality. Virtues in this sense

are formed early in life through habituation – that is, action

that is guided by parents or others concerned to teach the young

to be virtuous. Ideally, specific virtues, such as courage,

generosity, and compassion, become well-integrated components of

personality, forming what we would call ‘character.’ Practical

rationality, as well as appropriate motivation, is essential for

virtuous action, yet at some point, virtues should become “second

nature,” in the sense that possessors of virtue should become

able to act virtuously without the need for conscious

deliberation about whether and how to act.

This conception of virtue has not gone unchallenged. Basing

their arguments on social psychological studies, several

philosophers, who have come to be known as ‘situationists,’

contend that global traits have little, if anything, to do with

producing behavior, and maintain that virtue ethics lacks

adequate empirical grounding (e.g., Harman (1999; Doris 2002).

Elsewhere I respond to this prong of the situationist critique by

arguing that empirical psychology does indeed have the resources

to support global traits, and that virtues in the traditional 2

sense sketched above should be regarded as a subset of these

traits (see Snow 2010).

Recently situationists have extended their critique to

practical rationality by arguing that nonconscious or automatic

processes, which operate outside of conscious awareness, are

often in conflict with the dictates of reflective reason

(Merritt, Doris, and Harman 2010). Conscious processing is that

of which I am directly aware. I know, for example, that I am

typing these words. Nonconscious processing is not salient to

our awareness, proceeding sotto voce, as it were. Though I am

aware that I am typing, I do not need to deliberate about where

to place my fingers on the keyboard; that is, I do not

consciously need to think, “now I should put my finger on the ‘a’

key and press down, now on the ‘b’ k ey, and so on.

Situationists adduce empirical psychological studies to highlight

the conflicted nature of conscious and nonconscious processes,

arguing that because of this, cognition is too fragmented to

support the kind of integrated personality needed to sustain

robust virtues. Their arguments, I believe, overstate the case

for fragmentation and underestimate the coordination of conscious3

and nonconscious processing in producing the kinds of habits that

form and sustain virtuous character. Here I explore the

coordination of these two types of processing in the habits that

contribute to virtuous character, thereby countering, at least in

part, the situationist view of the fragmented nature of

cognition.

I investigate three paradigms of virtue acquisition

involving habits. The first is an expansion of Snow (2010),

where I argue that virtuous habits can be developed through goal-

dependent automaticity. This is a fairly modest form of virtue

acquisition, one that reflects a “folk” approach to the

acquisition of virtue. I call it a “folk” approach because

virtues can be acquired outside of conscious awareness through

habits aimed at attaining virtue-relevant goals, imitating

virtuous role models, or following practical advice. Through

these pathways, ordinary people (the “folk”) are able to acquire

virtue nonconsciously, without directly or consciously aiming at

the development of virtue per se. One might think that the “folk”

in this way acquire virtue in a rather minimal sense, and fall

far short of the rich Aristotelian conception of virtue sketched 4

above. Though this could be true, I believe the minimal virtue

of the folk is broadly consistent with the Aristotelian

perspective on virtue and can, but need not be, developed further

into the conception endorsed by Aristotle or something relevantly

similar. This is because both Aristotelian virtue and the virtue

of the folk involve dispositionality, appropriate motivation, and

roles for practical reason.

The second paradigm is mainly from Annas (2011). She

endorses a broadly Aristotelian conception of virtue and offers a

robust account of virtue development modeled on the acquisition

of practical skill. Acquiring virtues on her account requires

what she calls “the need to learn” and “the drive to aspire,” the

tutelage of the virtuous, and the ability to articulate what one

is doing and how when one acts virtuously. As with Snow (2010),

habits help in the acquisition of virtue, but for Annas (2011)

they require more mindfulness and conscious deliberation. Annas

(2011)’s skill account meshes nicely with the expertise model of

virtue acquisition proffered by developmental psychologists

Narvaez and Lapsley (2005), so I discuss their view in

conjunction with hers. 5

The third paradigm is that of the Confucian cultivation of

the junzi, or gentleman. The Confucian tradition holds that virtue

acquisition requires immersion in a way of life. The gentleman-

in-training must develop appropriate habits of mind, including

habits of attention, perception, and thought, as well as

appropriate habits of feeling and acting. Studying selected

texts, learning to appreciate music, and practicing ritual

propriety (li), are needed to achieve these forms of habituation.

A word about the commensurability of the three paradigms.

The minimal virtue of the folk is, I believe, compatible with the

richer Aristotelian conception endorsed by Annas (2011). The

Confucian account developed in a very different time and place,

of course, from the Aristotelian. Yet the two share

similarities: each regards virtues as dispositions; each

maintains that virtuous action must be appropriately motivated;

and each contends that practical reason has roles to play in the

development and exercise of virtue. Consequently, though the

three conceptions of virtue exhibit important differences, they

are similar enough to be considered side by side in order to make

constructive comparisons and contrasts. My focus here is on the 6

habits needed in each paradigm of virtue acquisition. These

habits differ as to the blend of conscious and nonconscious

processing at work in each. Yet all suggest that situationists

are too quick to argue that evidence of conflict between

conscious deliberation and nonconscious processing undermines the

prospects for character integration, for all three paradigms show

how both forms of mental processing can be unified in the pursuit

of virtue.

1. Habits of the Folk1

Let us adopt for the sake of argument a hypothesis that

seems, anecdotally at least, well founded: that most people are

not directly interested in developing virtue. By “directly

interested,” I mean that most people are not explicitly concerned

with deliberately acquiring virtues such as generosity, courage,

patience, humility, and so on. The hypothesis admits of obvious

exceptions. Some people choose vocations that require discipline

in a virtue, and they receive that training as part of their

vocational choice. Members of religious orders, for example,

live by rules that guide their lives and purport to help them to

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become patient, humble, chaste, loving, and so on. Soldiers and

police officers undergo training meant to overcome fear and

inculcate courage. These people deliberately cultivate virtues

in order to become good or better monks, soldiers, and police

officers. Despite such exceptions, it is safe to assume that the

ordinary “person in the street” is typically not deliberately or

consciously engaged in becoming kind, generous, compassionate,

and so on, whether for the sake of becoming better in a role, or

in order to become virtuous for its own sake.2

Yet many people do become virtuous, and work to cultivate

virtue in their lives. They do this in ways similar to those in

which monks, soldiers, and police officers inculcate virtue,

though not as consciously. Often, people aspire to virtue-

relevant goals. By “virtue-relevant goals,” I mean goals

associated with roles or activities the successful performance of

which requires virtue. Someone might aspire to be a good doctor,

nurse, teacher, or parent, or to promote peace. Successful

performance in these roles or attainment of these goals requires

virtues. For example, compassion for patients balanced by

professional concern and effectiveness is one hallmark of a good 8

health care provider, and good parents display generosity and

kindness, sprinkled with doses of loving firmness, in interacting

with their children. Good teachers are conscientious about class

preparation, care about their students, and are fair and even-

handed in grading, calling on students in class, and so on. A

panoply of virtues assist those promoting peace, such as

nonviolence and gentleness in demeanor, tolerance of differences,

and the virtues of negotiation, including the ability to see

things from the other’s perspective and the flexibility and

willingness to seek consensus or common ground.

Monks, soldiers, and police officers receive vocational or

disciplinary training explicitly geared toward inculcating

selected virtues. By contrast, those aspiring to be good

parents, teachers, health care providers, effective peace

promoters, or having other virtue-relevant goals typically do not

receive explicit instruction in how to act virtuously. Someone

aspiring to be a good parent, for example, might cast about for a

good role model to imitate, or read books that convey appropriate

attitudes to have and actions to perform. A young teacher might

be thrown into his classroom with advice and instruction from 9

senior teachers, but he, too, could have a role model whom he

seeks to emulate. The point is that in imitating a role model or

following advice and instruction, people do not consciously seek

to cultivate virtue. They consciously seek to be like someone,

or to follow guidance laid out for them. Yet, in aspiring to a

goal, adopting a role by imitating another, or following received

wisdom, they perform actions that, arguably, express virtue, and

do so repeatedly. In this way – through the repeated performance

of virtuous actions associated with roles or needed for the

attainment of desired goals – they can develop virtuous

dispositions, though much of this happens outside of conscious

awareness.

Elsewhere I have explicated this process in detail, but it

is worth revisiting and expanding features of this discussion

(for a more detailed treatment, see Snow 2010, chapter two). The

kind of virtue development sketched above, in which someone

repeatedly and habitually performs virtue-expressive actions in

the course of pursuing goals or fulfilling role expectations,

though she is not consciously aware that her acts are virtuous

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nor deliberately seeks to perform them qua virtuous actions, can

be explained using the resources of empirical psychology.

To begin this explanation, let us first note that dual

process theory in cognitive and social psychology holds that the

mind’s functioning can be explained in terms of two kinds of

cognitive processing: conscious and automatic. Conscious

processing is the familiar sort in which conscious or deliberate

attention is brought to bear on a problem or activity.

Controlled processes satisfy most or all of the following

criteria: they are “. . . under the intentional control of the

individual, and thus, present to awareness, flexible or subject

to intervention, and effortful or constrained by the attentional

resources available to the individual at the moment” (Snow 2010,

40; see also Bargh 1989, 3-4). If I notice that I am hungry, and

deliberately decide to eat an apple instead of an ice cream

snack, I am using a controlled cognitive process. Automatic or

nonconscious processes, by contrast, operate outside of conscious

awareness, and satisfy most or all of a different set of

criteria: they are “. . . unintentional in the sense that they

can occur even in the absence of explicit intentions or goals; 11

involuntary; occurring outside of conscious awareness, autonomous

or capable of running to completion without conscious

intervention, not initiated by the conscious choice or will of

the agent, and effortless in the sense that they will operate

even when attentional resources are limited” (Snow 2010, see also

Bargh 1989, 3, 5). Examples of actions resulting from automatic

processing include frequently performed and routinized actions,

such as typing and driving along familiar routes. Researchers

now recognize that many actions are produced by a mix of

conscious and automatic processing.

Automaticity researcher John Bargh has identified three

different kinds of automatic processing, one of which is most

relevant here: goal-dependent automaticity (see Snow 2010, 43-

45). Goal-dependent automaticity can be explained as follows.

Representations of goals are held in memory. Chronically held

goals are kept in memory over the long term, and are more or less

readily activatable by environmental stimuli. More readily

activatable goals are more easily accessible to the conscious

mind than other goals and are frequently consciously salient to

the individual. A parent who places great importance on the goal

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of caring for her child, for example, will often have this goal

at the forefront of her consciousness. Even when she is not

consciously thinking about the goal, it will be chronically

accessible and easily brought to conscious awareness. When she

encounters situational features that activate or trigger the

representation of a goal, other things being equal, she will

respond by acting in ways that promote goal attainment. The

triggering of the representation, as well as the response, occurs

outside of conscious awareness. Sitting in a park and watching

her child play on the swings, she does not have to think about

what to do when he falls off. She simply rises and goes to help,

without entertaining explicit thoughts such as, “Johnny has

fallen off the swing, and is now lying on the ground crying.

Should I go over there?”

According to Bargh and his colleagues, “. . . the frequent

and consistent pairing of situational features with goal-directed

behaviors develops chronic situation-to-representation links”

(Snow 2010, 43; see also Chartrand and Bargh 1996, 465; Bargh and

Gollwitzer 1994, 72; Bargh, et al. 2001, 1015). Both situational

features and goal representations are held in memory; the latter

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become activated upon the appearance of the former, resulting in

familiar or routinized behaviors. Automaticity researchers

stress that the routinized behaviors resulting from nonconscious

goal activation are not mere stimulus-response reflexes, but are

intelligent and flexible reactions to situational features. A

trove of empirical evidence bears this out, indicating that

higher level social behaviors can result from goal-dependent

automaticity (see Snow 2010, 43-45). Examples include Cialdini’s

waiter (Snow 2010, 43; Ross and Nisbett 1991, 164). The highest-

earning waiter in a restaurant was studied over time. The only

consistent thing he did was to seek the goal of maximizing his

tips. This goal pursuit explained a variety of behaviors with

different customers across different situation-types. Another

interesting study by Fishbach, Friedman, and Kruglanski (2003)

found that a situational trigger (a piece of chocolate cake)

could elicit the representation of a personal goal (losing

weight) that counteracted temptation in the circumstances (see

Snow 2010, 44). Their study distinguishes automatic goal

activation from situational control, suggesting that the former

promotes personal control in accordance with an agent’s values.

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Finally, we should note that researchers have documented that

representations of a variety of value-relevant goals (for

example, the disposition to cooperate) are nonconsciously

activatable across a number of situation-types. This suggests

that representations of virtue-relevant goals, too, can be

activated by situational features across types of situations,

resulting in virtue-expressive actions that cross situation-

types. The repeated performance of such actions results in

habits of virtuous behavior, which build up virtuous dispositions

over time.

Though most of this discussion has centered on

representations of goals and goal activation, I mentioned earlier

that virtue can develop through imitating role models and

following practical advice. The latter two forms of activity can

be described in terms of goals. For example, Sam might imitate

his favorite professor in order to achieve his goal of becoming a

good teacher; and Sara might follow the practical advice in the

nursing handbook in order to attain her goal of becoming a good

nurse. Such descriptions suggest that these other two forms of

virtue acquisition can be explained by goal-dependent

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automaticity. However, it is not clear to me that explanations

of what is involved in goal pursuit exhaust the nuances either of

imitating a role model or of following practical advice, nor is

it clear that the explanation of virtuous habits in terms of

goal-dependent automaticity thus far offered gets to the bottom

of the complexities involved in virtuous habit formation. I do

not propose to explain the fine distinctions involved in these

paths to virtue cultivation here, but, rather, to suggest that

the concept of a schema can help in thinking about them.

Developmental psychologists Lapsley and Hill (2008) offer a

social-cognitive approach to moral personality that stresses the

centrality of moral schemas.3 Schemas are “general knowledge

structures that organise information, expectations and

experience” (Lapsley and Hill 2008, 322). Moral personality is

unified and explained by the chronic accessibility of a person’s

moral schemas. These general knowledge structures afford

epistemic receptivity for processing certain kinds of

information. A person might, for example, see the world as an

overall just place in which people generally get what they

deserve. If so, this “just-world” schema might dispose her to

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view victims of crime negatively, as being somehow at fault. In

addition to general schemas, people can have schemas about

themselves. Someone might have an internalized self-schema as

being helpful. In common parlance, we would say that she sees

herself as a helpful person. If so, she could be more disposed

to help others in need than someone who does not possess this

self-schema. The repeated processing of certain kinds of

information reinforces the strength and salience of a person’s

schemas. Lapsley and Hill (2008) propose that the cognitive

processes that mediate moral action are influenced by schemas.

These internalized knowledge structures are stable parts of

personality that operate outside of conscious awareness to direct

moral attention in appropriate ways and facilitate moral action.

Here I can only suggest that representations of goals, of

role models and what they would or would not do in certain

circumstances, and of how to enact practical advice are

contextualized by a person’s schemas. That is, schemas supply

the tacit background knowledge within which representations of

goals, models, advice, and how to act in the world make sense.

Without some prior idea of what injury to a child and helping

17

behavior amount to, the parent of our previous example would not

know that her goal of being a good parent is advanced when she

sees Johnny in need and goes to him. In other words, she would

not know how to advance her goals, or how to model good

parenting, or how to follow practical advice in the situations in

which she finds herself. The point might seem obvious or even

trivial, but it is neither. Schemas provide us with information

for knowing how to act in the world. Lacking the background

knowledge that schemas provide, we could not act effectively in

the world, and could not form the habits that develop virtue.

Schemas are essential parts of what I call the ‘personality

scaffolding’ of virtue – the personality and knowledge structures

that support virtuous action, habituation, and dispositions. A

comprehensive empirical psychology of virtue – not attempted here

– would explain how schemas support the goal representations,

role modeling, and understandings of practical advice that enable

people to develop virtue. For now, let us note that schemas,

like goal-dependent automaticity, operate outside of conscious

awareness. Consequently, they contribute to the development of

virtuous habits and dispositions sotto voce. The habits of the 18

folk that allow them to acquire and sustain virtue are aided and

abetted by schemas and their elements.

The foregoing model of virtue acquisition explains how

ordinary “folk” – people not directly or explicitly concerned

with becoming virtuous, can, nonetheless, develop virtuous

dispositions. In this model, people are not directly motivated

to become virtuous, but instead, are directly motivated to become

something, such as a good parent or a good teacher, for which

virtue is required. They develop virtue indirectly, through the

pursuit of other goals, the emulation of role models, or the

enactment of practical advice. The habitual behavior through

which virtue is developed stresses nonconscious processing and

draws upon knowledge structures, such as schemas, that provide

the background knowledge that is essential for effective virtuous

behavior.

One might wonder how close the virtue of the folk as

described here is to Aristotelian virtue. I submit that the

virtue of the folk is not far removed from Aristotle. Though

I’ve stressed the importance of nonconscious processing for

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virtue acquisition in this paradigm, it’s worth noting that both

appropriate motivation and roles for the explicit use of

practical rationality are not excluded. Just as one who develops

courage because he wants to excel in battle would seem to be

appropriately motivated on the Aristotelian account, so, too, one

who develops patience because she wants to be a good parent also

seems to pass muster. Moreover, uses for practical reason are

not excluded, for we often need consciously deliberate about how

best to be fair or generous in situations arising in daily life.

On the folk account, both conscious and nonconscious processes

coordinate in the development of virtue. I wish here to stress

the salience of nonconscious processing, as well as the point

that often, ordinary people are not motivated to acquire the

virtue for its own sake, but develop it as they pursue other

goals.

2. Intelligent Virtue: Skill and Expertise Paradigms of Virtue

Cultivation

Annas (2011) offers a more robust paradigm of virtue

acquisition requiring more conscious deliberation on the part of

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those who would be virtuous. Let us examine her view, then

supplement it with the expertise model offered by Narvaez and

Lapsley (2005). In these skill/expertise accounts, conscious

processing assumes salience in virtue acquisition, though

nonconscious processing is by no means absent. We should note,

too, that it is appropriate to call these accounts ‘virtue

cultivation,’ since virtue is explicitly being inculcated by those

who want to be virtuous and by their mentors. In the folk

pathways discussed above, virtue is being developed and acquired,

though not explicitly cultivated for its own sake.

Intelligent virtue is a subtle and nuanced account of virtue

acquisition in which all of the elements fit together in a

cohesive whole with no one feature or set of features having a

foundational role. Yet two key concepts have prominence – the

notion that a virtue is like a practical skill, and the notion

that virtue is essentially dynamic, that is, is in a continual

state of development. Taking inspiration from ancient

philosophers, Annas (2011) argues that we should look to how

practical skills are developed for insights into how virtue

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should be acquired. Virtues, like practical skills, should be

deliberately cultivated.

The deliberate cultivation of practical skills and virtues

is a rich and complex endeavor, requiring motivation, cognition,

and affect. Consider motivation. The motivational aspects of

intelligent virtue are summed up in the need to learn and the

drive to aspire (Annas 2011, 16ff). These are properties needed

by and ascribed to learners of practical skills and virtue.

Consider the need to learn. A serious learner, say someone

learning to play the piano, strives to understand what her

teacher is doing, and does not settle for simply copying or

mimicking, but wants to know and do more for herself. As Annas

(2011, 17; italics hers) puts it, “What the learner needs to do

is not only to learn from the teacher or role model how to

understand what she has to do and the way to do it, but to become

able to acquire for herself the skill that the teacher has, rather

than acquiring it as a matter of routine, something which results

in becoming a clone-like impersonator.” The need to learn, I

take it, is necessary for the drive to aspire, but the drive goes

beyond the need. To see this, consider someone who needs to 22

learn to swim so that she can exercise her arthritic back, but

does not aspire to learn more about swimming than what is needed

to keep afloat and get exercise. If she is able to do this,

surely this person can be said to know how to swim, even though

she lacks the aspiration to develop her abilities. As Annas

(2011) has it, learners of virtue need both to learn how to be

virtuous for themselves, that is, in their own way and not as a

clone-like copy of another, and should have the drive to aspire

to deeper, richer, more extensive practical understandings of how

to be virtuous.

Described in this way, the need to learn and especially the

drive to aspire clearly incorporate cognition and practical

reasoning. Practical reasoning plays many roles in Annas

(2011)’s account. For example, articulacy is required to both

teach and learn the virtues (Annas 2011, 19). Just as an expert

in a practical skill must be able to explain to a novice what she

is doing and why, so, too, a teacher of virtue must be able to

explain to a learner what it is to be brave or generous and why

being that way is important. Those learning a practical skill or

virtue must be able to use practical reasoning in a variety of 23

sophisticated and highly personalized ways. I cannot develop my

own abilities in a practical skill or a virtue without thinking

about how and why I should do it, how and why I can be genuinely

kind or compassionate, for example – what that would mean for me,

with my personality and in my circumstances, and what it would

mean for the recipients of my intended kindness and compassion.

This, I take it, is what Annas (2011, 21) means by saying that

practical skills and virtues develop in embedded contexts: they

are embedded in our own life histories as individuals, woven into

the warp and woof of our daily lives. Virtues are, in an

important sense, our virtues, and not someone else’s. They are

shaped both by the features of our external environments, and by

the internal factors, such as temperament and reasoning ability,

that comprise our unique psychologies.

It is important that we learn to be virtuous by acting in a

specific kind of way (Annas 2011, 22). Though we might repeat

skilled or virtuous actions over and over in order to learn them

well, virtuous responses are educated and intelligent, not rote

(Annas 2011, 28-29). Virtuous dispositions, like practical

skills, are acquired and cultivated through habituation that is 24

intelligent and flexible, not mindless routine (Annas 2011, 13).

Yet, the emphasis on intelligence and conscious deliberation for

the development of virtue does not preclude a role for

nonconscious processing in her account. Annas (2011, 28-30)

seems to recognize this point when she discusses expertise. In a

memorable phrase, she says that “. . . reasons for acting can

efface themselves without evaporating entirely,” and “. . .

conscious thoughts seem to have disappeared; they are not taking

up psychological room, or we would never see learners speed up as

they become experts” (Annas 2011, 29). Eventually, as one

becomes expert in a virtue or practical skill, conscious

deliberation about whether, when, and how to act are no longer

required. Annas (2011, 30) writes, “The reasons have left their

effect on the person’s disposition, so that the virtuous response

is an intelligent one while also being immediate and not one

which the person needs consciously to figure out.” Yet she

insists on the articulacy requirement: “There are people who

apparently act virtuously but prove completely unable to explain

why they did so; as with skill, this makes us think that we are

25

dealing with a natural gift which has not yet been educated to

become virtue proper” (Annas 2011, 30).

Let us mark two important differences between Annas (2011)

and the folk account of habituation given earlier. Consider

again someone with the goal of being a good parent. She can rely

on both conscious and nonconscious processing to act in ways

conducive to being a good parent. Presumably, some of these

actions will be virtuous, expressing virtues such as care,

compassion, fidelity, justice, generosity, and so on, will be

flexible and intelligent, will become habituated through

repetition, and will contribute to the development of virtuous

dispositions. This example falls short of Annas (2011)’s model

of intelligent virtue in at least two ways, one motivational, the

other, cognitive. First, the parent is not directly aiming at

the development of a virtue; she does not want to be just or

compassionate for the sake of the virtue. She aspires to be

virtuous because she aspires to be a good parent. It isn’t clear

that this falls within the scope of what Annas (2011) would count

as the development of virtue as a form of expertise. So, a

question for Annas (2011)’s model is: can we develop expertise in26

virtue while aiming for something else, or must we always aspire

directly to be just, generous, and so on, in order to satisfy the

requirements of intelligent virtue? Second, the folk paradigm of

habituation into virtue does not require that a virtuous

individual always be able to explain her virtuous behavior. This

falls foul of Annas (2011)’s articulacy requirement. To sum up

the disagreement between the two accounts for the case of the

person who develops virtue in order to be a good parent, we can

say that the parent has the need to learn (in order to be just in

the parenting context), but not the drive to aspire (in order to

excel in justice). On Annas (2011)’s view, she is somewhere in

the lower or intermediate ranges of virtue acquisition, but she

is not on the path to expertise.

An expertise model of virtue cultivation that meshes well

with Annas (2011) is offered by developmental psychologists

Narvaez and Lapsley (2005), who build their account on an

understanding of the workings of the nonconscious mind. To take

just one example of how the workings of the nonconscious are

incorporated into their account, consider their discussion of

chronic priming as a tool that enables us to teach and learn 27

virtue. As we teach virtue to children, we repeatedly expose

them to virtue concepts and their meanings and applications in

various social settings, with the hope that they will internalize

the schemas and scripts (descriptions of action sequences) that

show how to be virtuous, say, how to be kind or generous. The

idea is that children’s learning of virtue through repeated

exposure to schemas and scripts can result in chronic or enduring

manifestations of virtue, so that children, internalizing

guidance for how to act virtuously, will begin acting virtuously

over time, and eventually develop virtuous dispositions as parts

of their emerging characters. Here we can note compatibility

between Annas (2011)’s view that virtue develops in embedded

contexts and the development of virtue as a unique part of

personality. Given the differences in the contexts in which we

live and grow, it is entirely possible for me to develop the

virtue of kindness as part of my unique character and

personality, whereas you might have more frequent occasions for

the development of courage. Embedded contexts for virtue

acquisition make a difference as to which virtues develop, as

28

well as the shape they take in individual lives – a point on

which Annas (2011) and Narvaez and Lapsley (2005) agree.

Assuming, then, that the nonconscious mind is an active

element in the acquisition of virtue, Narvaez and Lapsley (2005,

150-151) draw on the expertise literature in psychology to point

out three respects in which experts differ from novices. First,

experts’ knowledge of a domain is richer in concepts, more well-

organized, and more highly interconnected than that of novices.

This is connected with the second difference between experts and

novices: owing to the differences in the depth, organization, and

accessibility of their knowledge, experts see the world

differently. In other words, the more experience one has, the

better able one is to “read” or interpret the terrain one is

navigating. This is consistent with Annas (2011)’s account of

virtue as dynamic and as similar to practical skill development.

Due to her experience with practicing virtue, the expert has a

better developed ability to “read” situations than the novice,

and can better recognize occasions for virtue, as well as the

shape virtuous action should take in specific contexts. Finally,

Narvaez and Lapsley (2005, 151) maintain that experts have 29

developed a different set of skills than novices. Experts use

routinized problem-solving skills and heuristics, and know what

knowledge to access, which procedures to apply, and when and how

to apply them. Novices, by contrast, proceed slowly, step by

step, and their decision-making is often superficial. Narvaez

and Lapsley (2005, 151) write: “Experts use automatic, goal-

dependent processing, seeing meaningful information where novices

do not.”

How are experts formed? Narvaez and Lapsley (2005, 152-154)

identify three crucial factors. The first is that experts learn

in situations that reward appropriate behavior. These situations

provide “learning structures” that shape the intuitions of

learners. Similar to what Annas (2011) calls ‘embedded

contexts,’ these are environments that provide learners with

opportunities to engage their skills and get supportive feedback

and mentoring. The second factor is that expertise is acquired

by the use of explicit theory to guide actions. That is, the

implicit or nonconscious learning described earlier is reinforced

or deepened by the use of explanation. This meshes well with

Annas (2011)’s emphasis on articulacy and explanation. Expertise30

in virtue is not just a matter of developing virtues in the

context of automatically pursuing goals, but requires deliberate

thought and the ability to explain actions explicitly in terms of

reasons. Explicit explanations deepen the practitioner’s

understanding of virtue and situate its practice within the

larger context of her life and evaluative commitments. Finally,

time and focused practice in a domain is the third factor

implicated in the development of expertise. Narvaez and Lapsley

(2005, 153-154) note that some psychologists believe this is the

key to expertise, and that expertise development requires about

10,000 hours or ten years of focused practice. This is

consistent with Annas (2011)’s insistence on the need to learn

and the drive to aspire. Practice in virtue that is geared to

expertise development requires commitment, self-directedness, and

the desire to improve. Narvaez and Lapsley (2005, 154) note that

past a certain level, expert practice becomes automatic, and many

experts lose the ability to explain what they are doing. Though

this conflicts with the articulacy requirement, it is prima facie

compatible with another aspect of Annas (2011)’s account, namely,

31

her observation that reasons for acting become self-effacing, but

do not evaporate entirely.

The skill/expertise accounts of virtue cultivation take us

beyond the folk paradigm of habituation in three key respects.

First, roles for nonconscious processing involved in cultivating

virtue as a form of expertise are explored in detail by Narvaez

and Lapsley (2005). This goes beyond explanations currently

provided by the folk account, according to which people

nonconsciously acquire virtue in the course of developing other

life goals, imitating role models, or following practical advice.

Second, the use of explanation, articulacy, and practical

reasoning is stressed by both Annas (2011) and Narvaez and

Lapsley (2005), though the latter recognize that at higher levels

of expertise, the ability to articulate what one is doing becomes

lost. This heightened role for conscious virtue cultivation

contrasts with the minimalism assumed by the folk paradigm.

Finally, the skill/expertise accounts pay attention to the

deliberate use of situations or contexts to cultivate virtue.

The folk paradigm acknowledges the role of situational factors in

triggering virtue-relevant goals and setting in train virtuous 32

action, as well as in eliciting deliberation about how best to

act virtuously in certain settings, but does not explore the

deliberate use of such factors as a means of cultivating virtue.

3. The Way of the Junzi

Our third paradigm of habituation into virtue, from

Confucian accounts of the cultivation of the junzi, or gentleman,

stresses the deliberate use of situational factors as crucial for

the development of the inner life. The first paradigm of

habituation, that of the folk, explains how virtue can be

developed in the ordinary course of pursuing valued life goals.

The skill/expertise paradigm explains virtue acquisition as a

kind of apprenticeship or tutelage by means of which one

cultivates, and is mentored into, the practice of virtue.

Confucian paradigms stress virtue cultivation as immersion into a

way of life, characterized by a set of values, such as the key

virtues of benevolence (ren) and righteousness (yi), ritual

practices that express them, scrupulous attention to detail and

demeanor, and a focus on correctness in externalities. This

focus on the outer life is meant to structure attention in

33

specific ways so as to create a kind of inner life. We cultivate

the inner by attending to the outer. In this section, we’ll

explore, albeit briefly, this apparently paradoxical approach to

virtue cultivation, as well as its compatibility with empirical

psychology, through the work of Slingerland (2011) and Mower

(2013).

Both authors describe how virtue is cultivated in the

Confucian tradition, Slingerland (2011, 403-415), through a

discussion of the early Confucians Confucius and Mencius, and

Mower (2013), through a treatment of Xunzi. Though there is

considerable complexity and nuance to their discussions, both

stress the role of ritual (li) in cultivating the kinds of mental

states needed to become a junzi, or gentleman, and Mower (2013,

sects. 4-6) discusses the next stage of moral development,

whereby one becomes a sage. As Slingerland (2011, 410) puts it,

li are “. . . the most important of the traditional cultural forms

advocated by early Confucians . . . [they are] a set of cultural

scripts governing a broad range of behaviors, from ancestral

sacrifice and diplomatic ceremonies to details of one’s personal

comportment, such as the manner in which one dresses, takes one’s34

meal, enters a room or takes one’s seat.” The path from learner

to junzi to sage can roughly be described as a progression in the

refinement of one’s sensitivities to the requirements that

different types of situation place on the expression of virtue.

These sensitivities are cultivated through the rituals associated

with various types of events. For example, funerals and mourning

require rituals of a certain sort meant to elicit appropriate

attitudes of sorrow, respect, and reverence for the dead and for

one’s ancestors. Ideally, the clothing, speech, actions, and

facial expressions required by such rituals should reflect and be

an expression of one’s inner state. Through cultivating the li

associated with different types of situations, one begins to have

and express the inner states, or virtues that are characteristic

of the junzi in these circumstances. As one perfects one’s

performance of the li through habituated practice, one cultivates

the virtues appropriate to the situation.

Xunzi especially emphasized the importance of li to the

cultivation of personal virtue (see Slingerland 2011, 410-411;

Mower 2013). According to Mower (2013, 120), Xunzi endorsed a

stage-like progression through learner to junzi to sage that she 35

calls the “embeddedness model” of moral development “. . . in

which one progresses ethically by transitioning from type-level

models inherent in ritual, to the reflective analysis of and

adherence to the ‘logic’ within ritual, to careful evaluative

deliberation focused on and embedded in the determinative

features of situations or token events.” Following Xunzi, she

contrasts those on the path of moral development with those

uninterested in self-cultivation (Mower 2013, 120). The latter,

“standardless commoners,” pay no heed to ritual; their lives are

not shaped by adherence to li. They stand in contrast to “men of

standards,” or the “well bred,” who endorse and adhere to the

standards of attitude and behavior that ritual requires. This

first stage of development is simply the approval and practice of

ritual. One can, but need not, go beyond it. Those in the

second stage, who are intent on becoming junzi, practice ritual

under the guidance of a teacher. They are “. . . truly virtuous

persons that consciously strive to embody the models in their

every thought and action, and continually reflect on them in the

course of their training and study” (Mower 2013, 121). The third

36

and final stage of moral development, reached by few, is that of

the sage or exemplar (Mower 2013, 128).

The second stage of the embeddedness model, that of the

formation of the junzi, or gentleman, is of special interest for

understanding yet a third way in which habits can make us

virtuous. Though akin to Annas’ model of apprenticeship in

virtue, it takes us a step beyond it by conceptualizing

apprenticeship in virtue as immersion in a way of life. Under

the master’s guidance, the junzi-to-be does not merely learn one

practical skill on the model of learning to play the piano, but

learns how to act well across a range of different situation-

types, each calling for behaviors and attitudes in accordance

with exacting standards. At this stage of development, the

practitioner of the li is exposed to a variety of situational

influences intended to prompt and nurture virtuous response.

Among them are exposure to music, musical form, ritual practices,

and classical Confucian texts (Mower 2013, 124-127; Slingerland

2011, 412). Slingerland (2011, 412) observes that the Confucian

practice of “rectifying names” (zhengming) was intended to

provide “. . . normatively desirable frames for behavior.” That 37

is, the Confucian practice of calling things rightly or correctly

provided ways of framing situations that then guided action. The

repeated exposure to music, classic texts, the proper use of

names, and ritual forms was, Slingerland (2011, 416) argues, a

form of chronic priming meant to shape and cultivate the “heart-

mind” (xin) as “. . . the proper ‘ruler’ of the self, charged

with moral decision making and the enforcement of those decisions

that rest on the self.” Essential to the cultivation of the xin

is the development of virtue, or de, in the junzi. Foremost among

the virtues, and informing ritual practice, are those of

benevolence (ren) and righteousness (yi). Consequently, at this

second stage of virtue development, many situational factors are

brought to bear on the development of the character of the would-

be junzi, shaping his affect and cognitions (heart-mind) in ways

intended to elicit virtuous response, and, eventually, through

habituated practice, virtuous dispositions. These virtuous

dispositions continue to inform and are shaped and honed through

the ongoing practice of li.

Slingerland (2011, 416) suggests that the character

formation of the junzi can be viewed as a “. . . kind of ‘time-38

delayed’ cognitive control that functioned by embedding higher-

level desires and goals in lower-level emotional and sensory-

motor systems . . . ” This way of looking at Confucian virtue

ethics, he (2011, 416-417) contends, is consistent with recent

empirical work in cognitive and developmental psychology,

including, we should note, the picture of moral development

advocated by Narvaez and Lapsley (2005), according to which

conscious and nonconscious processing unite in the course of

moral education. The nonconscious priming essential to Confucian

virtue cultivation is conjoined with the development of

reflective deliberation in the would-be junzi.

The total immersion in a way of life of the would-be junzi is

deliberate and a more global form of virtue development than

either of the two paradigms previously outlined. It thus affords

a seamless approach to character development in which conscious

and nonconscious cognitive processing are aligned to promote a

desired end. Character cultivation in the Confucian tradition,

then, specifically, the way of the junzi, offers a clear

alternative to the recent situatonist contention that

nonconscious processes are often at odds with and upset our 39

deliberative plans. Though nonconscious and conscious cognitive

processes can be opposed, they need not be. Early Confucian

accounts show how such processes can work harmoniously to promote

and cultivate virtue in those motivated and capable of acquiring

it.

More can and has been said about the roles and complexities

of ritual in Confucian moral development.4 Enough has been said

here, I hope, to show that Confucian ritual adds a third

alternative to our other two paradigms on the role of habituation

in developing virtue.

Conclusion

In this essay I’ve outlined three paradigms of the

development of virtue through habituation. Each of these

approaches uses a different blend of conscious and nonconscious

processing in the acquisition of virtue. I’ve called the first

the ‘habits of the folk,’ in order to underscore pathways in

which ordinary people might acquire virtue through pursuing

valued life goals. Nonconscious processing looms large in this

account. The second is the expertise paradigm of Annas (2011)

40

and Narvaez and Lapsley (2005). This paradigm, though includimg

nonconscious processing, is more focused on the importance of

conscious deliberation and striving for virtue acquisition.

Finally, the third paradigm of virtue acquisition is found in the

early Confucian tradition. The creation of the Confucian

gentleman, the junzi, requires total immersion and conscious

thought about the situations in which one is placed.

Nonconscious priming and processing have roles to play in this

approach, but deliberation and focused attention are more salient

elements. All three paradigms illustrate how a combination of

conscious and nonconscious processes can function together in the

acquisition of virtue. Thus, all three afford visions of self-

cultivation that counter the situationist account of the

fragmentation of cognitive processes.5

41

1 Section one expands upon ideas developed in Snow (2010), chapter

two, “Habitual Virtuous Actions and Automaticity.” Section two draws

on Snow, “Intelligent Virtue: Outsmarting Situationism,” comments given on

Julia Annas’ book, Intelligent Virtue, at the “Author Meets Critics”

session, Pacific Division Meeting of the American Philosophical

Association, April 6, 2012, and to a lesser extent, Snow,

“Situationism and Character: New Directions,” in van Hooft and

Saunders, The Handbook of Virtue Ethics (Durham, United Kingdom: Acumen

Publishers: 2014), pp. 430-439.

2 Yet even here we should admit exceptions. Someone might recognize

that she has a blindspot – a tendency to be gruff, for example, and

work to become kinder.

3 The account of schemas given here draws on Snow, 2014.

4 For example, the entire issue of Sophia (2012), volume 51 is devoted

to explorations of Confucian ritual; Lai (2006), Hutton (2006), and

Ivanhoe (2000) also contain valuable discussions.

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5 I am grateful to members of the University of Notre Dame Virtues

Reading Group for helpful comments on an earlier version of this

paper.