Department of English/Philosophy

U.S. Military Academy

West Point NY 10996

cr2559@usma5.usma.edu

"Self-knowledge is a requirement of good lives, because unless we know what we want, how to decide the respective importance of various wants, and which ideals to guide us, we cannot satisfy our wants reasonably, and so we cannot have good lives."--John Kekes

How does one typically think of oneself? How should one think of oneself? Since Socrates’ endorsement of the motto, "Know thyself," self-knowledge has been a recurring theme in Western Philosophy. Nevertheless, ethics in the Modern era has been almost exclusively focused upon actions, rather than attitudes. That is, our ideas and beliefs--including those about ourselves--have been regarded as ethically relevant only insofar as they are exhibited in our actions. Positivism and behaviorism have intensified this focus. Furthermore, Modern ethics, presumably under the strong influence of Christianity, has concerned itself primarily with actions that affect others’ well-being.

What I propose in this essay is to consider what an ideal self-conception would be. This theorizing will be (mostly) of the "armchair" variety, and alludes to classical views, especially Aristotle, and contemporary views, especially the language of Jonathan Jacobs in Virtue and Self-Knowledge (1989). A self-conception, in my view, is not perfectly identical to self-knowledge, although there is sure to be some overlap. Not all of how we should conceive of ourselves, a "self-image," need meet the high standards often demanded of knowledge: it might (in some circumstances) not be highly justified, and need not be true. Furthermore, a conception of ourselves may not be precisely a belief, i.e., the kind of mental state that might constitute knowledge; it might, for example, include conscious goals, values, or an emotional constitution. Then too, there is an adverbial nuance to an ideal self-conception that may not be present in self-knowledge in its most prosaic forms. The emphasis in a self-conception is on how we conceive of ourselves, and on important conceptions about the self, not just that one believes certain things that happen to be about the self. Self-conceptions are "core," self-defining, or otherwise significant values and beliefs. My belief that I once broke my arm may constitute a piece of pedestrian "self-knowledge", but it is probably not part of my self-conception.

I will present and argue for a standard for what I think counts as a good or wise self-conception, and present something of a recipe for achieving an ideal self-conception relative to one's abilities and place in the world---or at least for how to stay away from shallower self-conceptions. The merit of a self-conception, in this view, does not consist purely in its being true, or even in its being justified. To an extent, then, I am discussing merits or values that mental states might have other than traditional epistemic ones, and of obligations that might flow from them.

My main thesis is that a good, full human life requires, but is not guaranteed by, a certain approximation to an ideal self-conception. This self-conception is often constructed by the individual, in tandem with a personal narrative (the expression is Jacobs’). It is both in the small- and large-scale features of these self-conceptions and personal narratives where we most significantly and interestingly differ from one another, but I assume as a methodological principle that good or ideal self-conceptions share certain features.

I do not here mean to ask questions about "formal" properties of self, such as having a notion of self that is distinct from other selves and other things, or the Kantian "I think" that attaches to every perception or act of awareness. These would be properties that every individual has, or at least every creature that is conscious, self-conscious, or rational, to name just a few of the many proposed delimiters. Rather, I am more interested in normative considerations in the development of substantive notions of self, and specifically, of a self-conscious self. Roughly: what guidelines should we have for the development of a conception of ourselves so that we maximize our opportunity for a happy, fulfilled, rational, moral, or otherwise ideal life?

Some might think that this enterprise is doomed from the start. They might say that there is no agreement over what counts as a good life, however loosely articulated. They might say that the conditions of one's genetic endowment (intellectual and physical abilities, as well as emotional makeup), together with the varying possible historical and social contexts in which one finds oneself, are so diffuse as to make general principles impossible. They might also say, applying "ought implies can," that since we cannot really exercise any control over our evolving self-conceptions, normative theorizing is inappropriate. Self-conceptions just happen.

I think all three of these claims are false, or at least are not patently and unarguably true. And even if they do raise difficulties, they should not prevent us from trying to think about something that so clearly matters to our daily lives as does our substantive conception of ourselves. While no single, simple theoretical formulation of the summum bonum is widely accepted---nor, for that matter, that summum bonum theories are the way to proceed---we continue to make judgments about ourselves and others concerning various normative features of our, and their, lives. At various extremes of happy fulfillment, and of miserable emptiness and pain, our judgments often agree. If not, then it is pointless to be moralizing together. Interestingly, the details of this ideal human life matter less to my enterprise here than one might think, as should become evident. That is, the account I hope to give is substantial, but also contextualized to circumstances. "Contextuality" in any case is not a decisive blow against such theorizing, for there are likely to be patterns of social context and natural endowment that produce valid conditional principles.

Finally, I, with Aristotle and Descartes, believe it is possible and desirable to mold one’s mental states, including emotions, and even one's broad outlook on self and world, so that they fit the prevailing circumstances of one's life and opportunities. That we cannot always do so, that some individuals cannot do it at all, or that it is often difficult to do, are no arguments against such an ideals. This is not to say that we can alter our emotions, desires, or beliefs, by easy and direct acts of will. In any case, there lurk here empirical facts about our psychology that we should not assume are one way--inalterable--rather than another in part because this makes life easier and excusable.

It would be very easy to dismiss my topic as but an offshoot of pop psychology and self-help literature. Much of this self-help and self-esteem-boosting literature is based upon what I will argue are false assumptions (such as that self-esteem can be raised just by telling people they are "worthwhile"). The main difficulty seems to be in supposing that self-esteem and self-conception are directly, and easily, improvable. I do not propose successful treatments for truly pathological or nearly absent self-conceptions. My purpose is also not to offer self-conception therapy that is especially appropriate for men, for women, or for minorities in circa 1995 North America. Rather, I am interested in the broad, preferably universal, features of ideal self-conceptions--given, however, realistic assumptions about the nature of our mental life, and the non-ideal physical and social circumstances in which we find ourselves: that we are mortal, grow old, and will sometimes fail because of circumstances beyond our control, for example.

Particularly problematic are goals that are in some sense "irrational": goals that are not statistically likely to succeed (like aiming for outstanding success in any field, art or sport) but in which "believing" that one can succeed is a motivational precondition of the possibility of success. In other complicated cases, the striving itself, side-effects of the effort, or partial accomplishment, are themselves good. The almost unconditional commitments made in Kierkegaardian leaps of faith, as well as commitments in love, friendship or marriage, raise difficulties concerning their "rationality" as well. These topics lead us directly to very difficult questions in moral psychology, such as the higher rationality of illusions (irrational or unwarranted beliefs), and commitments to flawed or unjustified people, institutions, or belief-systems. That is, the problem is how to preserve enough "idealism" to sustain motivation at the same time that one is epistemological "rational" in some traditional sense. My own view here is that while there is a clear notion of rationality that is purely epistemological, once the formation of attitudes other than "belief" (as usually construed) enters the picture, and especially once the necessity or desirability of action is fully acknowledged, then a more general form of rationality augments (or even contradicts) purely epistemological considerations.

One should be cautious. It has become too easy to posses normative theories in ethics and moral psychology, and then glibly to apply them to social problems--that is, to people whose self-conceptions we do not personally know. Eyeing someone sleeping on the grates, or a late-rising job applicant with inarticulated and surly speech, we might be tempted to say: "Pull yourself together, man, that's the whole problem." I am willing to say that this might indeed be applicable, but unwilling to say that I can know with any certainty when it applies in a particular case of someone other than myself and closer friends. A self-conception cannot be reliably inferred from small slices of someone’s behavior or speech. There may even be good reasons--privacy and preserving the possibility of intimate revelations--why self-conceptions should not be superficially evident. While an individual's motivational state and self-conception is (where there are not conditions of scarcity) often a suitable explanation for an individual's failure or unhappiness, it is not true that self-conceptions are always and entirely the individual's hard-won product. That would be naive, and suspiciously self-congratulating. Motivations and self-conceptions can have partly external causes---perhaps typically have them---even though to be self-conceptions of the right and classical sort, they must be won by the individual him- or herself in a delicate dialectic with the structures of the individual's education, family, and culture. With the wrong structures, without structures at all, or in a hostile environment destructive to a rational, useful, and motivating sense of self and world, constructing a decent self-conception becomes an almost superhuman task.

Other than rather vague talk (from a moral philosopher's point of view) of ‘identity’ in the literature on adolescent psychology, our high-minded intellectual and religious traditions have by and large abandoned this huge and important area to folk traditions: stories like the little engine that could, clichés about everyone being unique and having special abilities, and inspirational and self-help media of the sort to which I have already alluded. In the history of philosophy after the Greeks, there is a great deal of talk about right and wrong, and of notions of self (such as Descartes' famous arguments and concepts), but very little discussion---at least in the Modern era---of a merging of the two issues into what we might call an ideal concept of self: that is, ways in which we should think of ourselves, if we are going to be happy and have a worthwhile life. Aristotle is suggestive on this point, and there is a tradition of writing on "moral psychology"---but it tends to be at the semi-reputable fringes of philosophy and psychology, rather than at its most reputable center. Psychology, sociology, history and the other social sciences are not especially helpful in this project, since they have a quite appropriate interest primarily in the description of past and present self-conceptions, a charting of more common pathological self-conceptions, and their consequences. Furthermore, they are often focused on the outer life of behavior and events, sometimes even in the grips of neo-positivistic or behavioristic methodologies, and on group "behaviors," rather than on carefully reconstructions of individuals’ self-conceptions and with the fully nuanced portrayal of our exact conceptualizations that only the most subtle use of language can (usually) provide. For this purpose, historical fiction is often more helpful than history. Philosophy must, together perhaps with religion, alone take up this task.

Informally, a self-conception is a picture we have of ourselves, of what we now are. Self-conceptions embrace our beliefs about our goals, abilities, character, and emotional makeup, and past. It would probably be mistaken to think of a self-conception as just a set of beliefs expressed by propositions that begin with ‘I’. For one thing, a self-conception is a system of beliefs about myself: these beliefs include my past, my present abilities, weaknesses, and place in the world, and includes my plans, values, and expectations. Not only do these beliefs have structure, but some elements of self-conceptions are not properly described as beliefs; furthermore, it is not mental states alone that make up our mental nature--our cognitive character, so to speak--but also our habits of forming and altering beliefs, emotions, and desires. How we acquire these states and mechanisms is often a complex mix of control and conscious habituation, education and social compulsion, and temperament.

Which beliefs should one have about oneself? One might glibly answer: true ones. A better answer would be that we should have evident or justified ones, since there are true beliefs about oneself--the number of molecules in one’s body, for example--that are not evident. However, what exactly it mean , that we should have justified beliefs? That one should believe about oneself all and only the propositions that are evident to that person at that time? Extended controversy has focused upon the "only" part of this injunction (and not just for propositions about oneself): should one ever believe unjustified, or evidently false, propositions? That is, should one ever have, or is one "permitted" to have, illusions or delusions? However--and this is far less widely addressed--it is easy to see that a mandate to believe all of the evident propositions about oneself has its own severe difficulties. There are an infinite, or at least a very large number of evident (and certainly very many true), propositions about oneself. Many haven’t ever been contemplated, or considered with respect to their evidence. Some are uninteresting, somehow trivial, or are trivially deducible variants of already believed evident propositions. In short, to believe all evident propositions about oneself seems both impossible and undesirable, because it would sap our epistemic energy.

More importantly perhaps, beliefs should not be considered as undifferentiated collections. Some play important systematic, or organizing, roles in our belief systems. These include propositions with universal, nomic, or normative content. Some others articulate, or are related to, one’s cherished values: they may be about things about which we really care, that is, they share content with central emotions and desires. Other beliefs, not necessarily coextensive with emotionally important ones, are significant because they can or do play roles in "causing" actions, including mental ones. These beliefs are our plans or goals for ourselves, and they are significant in part to the extent that the conditions for triggering their implementation may actually occur. (In this sense, my plan about what I will do if I suddenly become fabulously wealthy, has limited "practical" content--although it may retain emotional importance.) In short, some beliefs have emotional importance and some have practical importance.

We might then conjecture that it is these organizing, high-level beliefs, or those with significant emotional and practical importance, about which we should exercise the most care.

There are many difficult, and interesting, issues in the philosophy of mind and ethics that must remain just below the surface in this short essay. First, the question of beliefs about ourselves falls in a general category of beliefs about anything, and the question concerning which beliefs, generally, we should have. Second, "belief" in Modern and contemporary philosophy seems to be a poorly understood and undifferentiated member of what we might term "belief-like" mental states, that includes assumptions, hopes, and expectations, as well as strong, commitment-inducing beliefs in something (God, our country right or wrong, etc.). Third, even beliefs or belief-like states are simply one kind of mental state in the life of the mind. Most of the interesting states of mind seem to be intentional, in being directed toward some sort of mental content. (There is a notorious problem of specifying this "content"; I have an idiosyncratic view that is explored elsewhere.) These states of mind include what are variously called emotions, desires, intentions, goals and values, perceptions; we might exclude some relatively unconceptualized moods, sensations and feelings. Each of these kinds of mental state may have its own distinctness and value in human life, and may be subject to various special normative criteria, including distinctive rules of formation and alteration.

Fourth, Modern ethical philosophy, although certainly not Greek or Christian philosophy, has remained curiously centered on actions, and has generally shunned or made light of the evaluation of mental states and processes independently of the actions they produce ("sin in one’s heart"). Recent discussion of epistemic virtues begins to reclaim this territory. Finally, it may not be the specific beliefs one has that are the proper subject of evaluation, but rather one’s belief-forming and belief-modifying mechanisms. Thus the ideal human life may not be just a person who has the right, or evident, beliefs--or otherwise has the right states of mind--but rather someone who acquires and monitors significant beliefs judiciously. We might further guess that a goal of a human life is not just, or not primarily, the acquisition of separately optimal beliefs, emotions, perceptions, desires, intentions, memories, and so on, but the acquisition of an integrated and balanced system for the formation, alteration, and interaction of all of these interacting mental states. Most contemporary philosophies of mind have not begun to penetrate this thicket, and have remained preoccupied with general features of these diverse states of mind, such as consciousness, or with belief .

A belief system has many possible normative characteristics, not to mention other mental states and their desiderata. Most discussed have been "epistemological" features, such as truth, consistency, and justification, as well as para-epistemological features such as pragmatic "success." Some of these are systematic features, while others are applied to individual beliefs. My methodology here is to examine normative characteristics about beliefs systems--particular the subsystem about the self--with a view toward their role in practical reasoning: deliberation and habits that result in action.

A belief system also has a cohesiveness, or lack thereof, derived from how it arose. My beliefs about my present abilities and place in the world were influenced by (ideally perhaps, inferred from) my remembered past, and my plans and expectations were influenced by (ideally, constructed by considering in certain ways) both my remembered past and my believed abilities and place in the world. We "identify with" these resulting self-conceptions, and they will be the sources of our self-esteem, and of our substantive sense of identity.

In what follows, I will make what may appear to be biographical remarks, skewering my past self-conceptions. Some are indeed biographical, some aren’t.

A conception of self is motivational to the extent that it guides our present activities. Motivational self-conceptions yield what other philosophers have called life-plans or life-projects, and the development of them, or the lack of them, are allied with what Erik Eriksen would call an "identity." We might call a self-conception non-motivational, or ‘sterile,’ if it does not, or cannot, serve to guide our present activities and goals. My holding on as a sacred memory to my having been third in the state of Ohio in 1968 at age 17 in a statewide physics test, being a very fast runner at age 8, and so on, might now constitute my self-conception. If this were my whole picture of myself, it would seem rather pathetic and unlikely to generate much self-esteem in the reasonably critical person. These features would probably not be motivating, since I simply cherish the memory. I do not do anything with this memory or pride---other than bragging. It does not serve to inspire my present activities.

Our thoughts of ourselves as having had various honors and accomplishments, as well as conceptions of ourselves as belonging to a certain race, noble family, nationality, and so on, often constitute sterile self-conceptions. It is also easy to see that "negative facts" about oneself--memories of failure, and inferred inabilities--are non-motivational. On the other hand, my belief that I am a singularly good student of physics may motivate me, and thereby spawn additional pride of accomplishment and a feeling of controlling my life in a way that believing I was once a good student of physics now will not. Similarly, reflection on my German/Welsh ancestry might bring me only to some rather empty pride in the accomplishments of "my" culture and fiddling with mementos, or it might bring me to struggle to improve my German or to try to sing like a good Welsh chorister. In the one case it is not a motivational self-conception; in the other, it is.

We can see in these examples that some self-conceptions are probably more suitable for motivating than are others. There are also differences in the exact conceptual content of self-conceptions that may seem to be just nuances, but actually make the difference between a motivating and a sterile self-conception. Idly thinking of my ancestors as having come from Wales is one thing. Thinking of myself (we often do; we just don't like to talk about it much) as possibly having "inherited" the abilities or interests of my parents or ancestors, or having a family or cultural "tradition" to uphold is quite another. The latter self-conceptions may well be motivating. Our conception of our family or ancestral background require depth in order to be motivating. The isolated fact that we believe we are Québecois or Cherokee rings hollow. We have to have a theory about the special characteristics of the Québecois or the Cherokee---and the more detailed, subtle, and related to our present circumstances, the better.

Importantly, some motivational self-conceptions have a certain sustainability under scrutiny, and give us a sense of our individuality or distinctness, that others will not. For example, even if my self-conception of myself as of German ancestry is motivational, I should quickly realize that it is not a very distinctive self-conception---there being millions of others who could, or do, feel likewise. Furthermore, my striving to fulfill this motivational self-conception, say, by learning German and studying German philosophy, is not itself an especially noble end, I should come to see. Learning German in particular is not so great or worthwhile, since there are many, even harder natural languages, none of much greater intrinsic value than another. Studying German philosophy, not because it is true or deep, but because it is ‘German’ and I am German, is a casual connection that would probably inevitably disturb the thoughtful person.

Some self-conceptions are deliberately and artificially crafted bundles of unrelated qualities designed to make one feel unique or significant. I recall that when I published my first professional article on the American philosopher Charles S. Peirce, I thought to myself: the publication of this article recognizes me as the greatest authority on this facet of Peirce’s philosophy. Now, "this" facet of Peirce's philosophy was incredibly narrow: his philosophy of space and time. Furthermore, I was just wise enough at the time to realize that some Peirce scholars knew a great deal more than I, and that they might know a great deal even about this aspect of Peirce but had simply not published it. So then, I hit upon this momentary self-conception: I was the greatest American authority on Peirce's philosophy of space who was under 25. My psychological purposes in this reformulated self-conception are transparent to me now: to craft a unique identity or role in the world. Many people who are out to build self-esteem and identity and who realize how big and diverse the world is, have probably cooked up similar packages of qualities. The problem with this picture of myself was that it was artificially crafted, just for the purpose of building self-esteem. Furthermore, it consisted of an unrelated bundle of qualities that did not give me a unified conception of myself: expert on Peirce's philosophy of space, American, and under 25. Additionally, parts of it were non-sustainable. Would I go to pieces on my 25th birthday? And, too, components were non-motivating, accidental properties. Could a reasonable person take personal pride just in being American and under 25? How would conceiving of myself as having these features motivate and organize my activities? Do I try to act especially young and American?

Components of typical self-conceptions may involve the clothes we wear, and manners and gestures ("cool"), various aspects of our physique, the decorations or style of our house, room, or apartment (even of deliberately not having a recognizable one), the type or condition of our car, stereo, or other significant possession, special tastes in music or literature, our work ethic and vocational dutifulness, pride in overcoming obstacles (perhaps because of barriers to our gender, race, accent, appearance, or sexuality), generosity, "being the hard-nosed type who is never taken advantage of," not conforming to social customs, deliberately conforming to them, neatness and tidiness, deliberate sloppiness, "doing everything one undertakes well," and so on. Observe that some of these self-conceptions may be narrowly motivational in one area of our lives but will not be motivational in numerous other important areas of our lives---in our vocation, work habits, or behavior toward loved ones and dependents, for example. A conception of ourselves with primary application to our clothes and hair style will not offer us much guidance or inspiration in other and very important realms. For example, how do they tell us we should conduct our interpersonal relations, or choose our careers? Some of my relatives' self-conscious penchant for neatness and orderliness gave them no, or the wrong, direction in dealing with the messiness of their children's lives and with personal relationships. These self-conceptions were not broadly motivational, or were not appropriate to a whole life.

Other self-conceptions are wonderfully and broadly motivational, but cannot serve to give our lives the focus and selectivity in applying our energies that we need. For example, "doing everything one undertakes well," may make us trim our lawn or groom ourselves with a time-consuming fastidiousness that is undeserved and results in sacrificing vocation, meaningful hobbies, social activities, and important areas of self-development.

Some motivational self-conceptions are sustainable, even under careful self-scrutiny; some yield a unique personal identity; some are highly unified, while others are disparate collections of arbitrary qualities; some are motivational across a broad spectrum of our activities, while some give little guidance in important arenas of human activity; some seem to be directed toward ends that are worthwhile in themselves; or, to adopt an old-fashioned formulation, some are formulated in terms of genuine goods, excellences or perfections, and some are just those that you can take pride in striving for and accomplishing if you don't think too hard about them.

Particularly suspect are, I believe, "consumerist" self-conceptions that are directed toward the ownership and thus purchase of a consumer good. This is not to voice objections to consumption, conspicuous or otherwise, or to valuing worldly things and status, but only to self-conceptions derived primarily from this activity. (Team-oriented "sports-fan" self-conceptions have similar shortcomings.) It is quite clear that others have an economic interest in fostering such self-conceptions, and not only or primarily for one’s own well-being. It is also clear, I believe, that such self-conceptions will lack most of the desiderata I propose. They may also substitute for the development of better and fuller self-conceptions, since they may momentarily produce senses of self-worth and (especially) individuality--our particular mixture of this hat and color from L.L. Bean, and that coat from Bloomingdales, with a common and economical touch of a shirt from Walmart. They send us shopping rather than, for example, fostering a hobby. More delicately, they are produced from without, by individuals who are "manipulating" us, often without our consciousness, deliberation, and control.

Now, I don't want to be too hypercritical here concerning flawed self-conceptions. It is better to have some self-conception, even a non-motivating one, rather than none at all. It is better to have some motivating self-conception, even a relatively trivial one, rather than only sterile ones. The "better" here may be partly intrinsic, meaning for our own feelings, as well as extrinsic, in being prudential, so that we get out of bed enthusiastically for something. It is obvious that it is not "good" in the special moral sense to have a motivating self-conception of, say, being able to cheat and trick others especially effectively. Perhaps as a matter of development, it is necessary that one first has a self-conception, and typically a silly and unfocused one, before one can build a mature one. One needs after all some courage before one even attempts anything, and maybe this courage comes initially from such relatively silly sources as a pride in one's distinctive tan, knowledge of trees, muscular arms, or shoes. Such a need may underlie adolescent self-conceptions, which seem so thin to adults but may serve valuable psychological needs as immature self-conceptions.

A motivational self-conception of the most fulfilling sort seems to arise against a background of a personal narrative. This is a conscious view of your personal history. It is your theory of how you came to be, your account of your more important personality traits, beliefs, and so on, including both acknowledged strengths and weaknesses, successes and failures. Furthermore, to be a healthy personal narrative, that is, one that inspires a motivating self-conception, it must be a narrative in which you see yourself as having made a number of decisions and independent judgments (including decisions about beliefs, goals, and previous self-conceptions and personal narratives). You may be mistaken about much in this personal narrative. You might believe (correctly) that some of the basic components of your present character and personality are matters of luck. Notice, however, that if you believed that all of your present character and beliefs were matters of luck, this self-chronicle of yourself as a meaningless pawn is unlikely to lead you to formulate a motivational self-conception. It is important to have a personal narrative, and preferably one that gives some insight into the deeper elements of your

character and personality.

An important question is whether a personal narrative, and the self-conception that arises from it, should be true. Is it OK, for example, for me to have a picture of my history that includes having published penetrating and beautifully written essays, when in fact they were shallow and clumsily written, focused on arcane areas in logic? Is it ever permissible or even desirable to have a self-conception based on this autobiography that includes "being a first-rate thinker" when I am in fact not? After all, this self-conception might well motivate me to continue my work, and my work might become better; certainly it won't become better if I don't work at it, and some sense of self-worth---even an overestimation---would seem necessary to keeping at it and improving. Should we have true personal narratives and self-conceptions, or does their primary value lie not in truth and precision but in their motivating force, in their ability to produce for us a good life?

I do not think that truth needs to be added as a separate feature of ideal self-conceptions (or their foundational personal narratives). That is not to say that I think their truth is irrelevant to the assessment of self-conceptions; it is simply not a basic criterion for beliefs, seen in their robustly functional role in practical reasoning. It may be a primary good or intrinsic value of propositions, that is, a metaphysical-axiological point about propositions, not about beliefs--or better, believings-- when we acknowledge their role in action and in an entire, integrated mental life. I think instead that what is desirable in having generally true self-conceptions is already included in requiring them to be sustainable over criticism (from oneself and others), over time, and over life's stages. This smacks of a "pragmatic" account of truth, but so be it. One problem with blatantly false self-conceptions is that they are, in my terminology, usually not sustainable.

There are in fact very complex and puzzling aspects of the problem of whether a self-conception should be epistemological rational, in the strong sense of being justified by evidence after a reasonable search for evidence, or in weaker senses of being consistent, or justified by now-available evidence or not contrary to now-available evidence. It is easy to see, for example, especially early in life, that it may be important to have a picture of ourselves as being able to accomplish something (an Olympic medal, a Nobel prize, or a more modest goal) when we have no evidence that this is indeed possible. There is some evidence that even in adult life the most successful and happy individuals are those who, to varying degrees, maintain some illusory or over-estimated conceptions of their abilities and importance in the world. On the other hand, it is also easy to see that for me now, a self-conception that I could yet become a world chess or tennis champion, and my single-minded pursuit of this goal, never being satisfied with anything less, is almost certain to bring me deep unhappiness. When are irrational and illusory self-conceptions acceptable, and when not? I can here only offer some guesses. First, we may allow ourselves more illusory pictures of our potential at the early stages than at later ones. Secondly, better to have an illusion because of a lack of evidence than because of a massive amount of evidence against it. It is less undesirable to believe I can run a four minute mile because I have no evidence I can't, than to believe it even though I have been told by my quite competent doctor and coach that I cannot. Finally, there is a delicate issue in the formulation of our goal that makes a great deal of difference concerning its rationality. Suppose I believe I can run a four minute mile, but am happy with any progress I make toward this goal. Here, we might say the "ideal" goal---really a "hope"---is running the four minute mile; the practical goal consists in trying to make as much progress toward running the mile faster as I can. I take pride in any progress toward this goal. Contrast this goal with a goal of running the four minute mile, or becoming President of the U.S., when anything short of this goal is regarded as a complete failure. The former goal is incrementally achievable, the latter goals are not. We might say, then, that an irrational goal that is not incrementally achievable is less desirable than an irrational goal that is incrementally achievable.

I do not want to suggest that transforming a personal narrative into a worthy self-conception is always difficult and psychologically wrenching. In some cases, social institutions may present us with clear and quite appropriate ones. Thus in my own case, having become a teacher and a parent, in that order, has presented me with rather plausible proposals for a part of my middle-aged adult self-conception. Other traditional vocations, especially as practiced in more tradition-centered societies than is the U.S., offer similar ready-made partially-constructed self-conception-packages, such a discriminating French vintner, a decent hard-working Chinese farmer, or a dutiful German bureaucrat. It is important to remember concerning even these society-given packages that, to be motivating, and hence to be ideal, they must be consciously considered and embraced. Mindlessly following a traditional role is quite different from freely deciding to do so.

Integrating two such society-given roles as those of father and teacher, or deriving them from a more basic conception or purpose, have proven more difficult. I also see the need for a broader self-conception that may entail these, since these are not indefinitely sustainable. Being a parent is not motivational in some areas of my life, and will not be sustainable when my children are grown; being a teacher is not motivational when I am on sabbatical, on vacation, when I will have retired, or in my daily activities that do not involve teaching (or parenting).

We might guess that a nurturing culture or society is one in which broadly motivating and worthwhile self-conceptions naturally accompany certain institutional roles. A society---perhaps like ours---that impulsively jettisons these traditional roles in favor of individuals coming up with their own individual self-conceptions is likely to experience trauma; devising broadly motivating and worthwhile self-conceptions does not come easy, and traditions step in where individual discipline, creativity and intelligence would almost certainly fail for most people.

Some of us may have self-conceptions that are broadly motivating and appropriate to this stage in our life: as college freshman, as young person first employed and finding her way in the world, as middle-aged family or career person, a wise, worldly retiree, and so on. Since we know now that we are going to be moving through later life-stages, it behooves us to anticipate the crisis of suddenly finding the old motivating self-conception inappropriate. Such a response would entail looking for motivating self-conceptions that transcend life stages. I would suggest that certain views of moral and personal development and of the development of wisdom---and perhaps only these---are precisely such self-conceptions. With such life-stage-independent self-conceptions, we had better be prepared to shift self-conceptions when old ones become outmoded---and this probably conflicts with wanting self-conceptions that are deeply articulated and hence clearly and specifically motivating. I cannot really develop these themes here, other than to note that the general direction taken by the traditional "wisdom" and humanitarian (kindness, generosity, tolerance,...) literature---Eastern and Western---that one sees, for example in sources as diverse as Socrates, Taoism, Jesus' own moral and religious teachings (as opposed to that behemoth, Christianity), seems to satisfy just such considerations.

It is true that this picture of self-conceptions and personal narratives is a view of human fulfillment suited most for people in adequate economic, social and psychological conditions, not in what Hume and Rawls call "conditions of scarcity." It is also suitable only for those with some leisure for necessary reflection. Mine is not a view suitable for the concentration camp or, perhaps, for the barrio. In these cases, the feeling of control over your destiny might be mere fantasy. But for most with the leisure to read this, the view presumably applies, and so is not presumptuous.

The theory of the ideal self-conception I have developed claims that a self-conception should be:

1. Motivating, and preferably motivational in all important

areas of our activity;

2. Focused. Capable of giving our life focus and decisiveness, and not

distribute our limited energies too widely---that is, it must be consistent

and focused;

3. Sustainable over inevitable life-stages---no rational person should build a

self-conception based on youth, looks, or the avoidability of death;

4. Non-self-serving. The activities it inspires or motivates must be worthwhile

in themselves and not merely self-esteem- or individuality enhancing;

5. Non-accidental. The self-conception should not contain only accidental

features of birth, in which one cannot reasonably take pride of

accomplishment; if the self-conception involves features that are

accidents of birth or otherwise, there must be sufficient depth to our

conception of these features that we can take legitimate pride

in our efforts to conform to them;

6. Non-fulfillable. Some of the goals in the self-conception cannot be

completely fulfillable, especially in a small portion of a lifetime;

7. Incrementally realizable.

8. Justifiable: not counter-justified. The goals must be possible--even if

unlikely--given our abilities and our place in the world;

9. Individuality-producing. Finally, the self-conception must give one

a sense of individuality or uniqueness.

I am a little bit uncomfortable with the last item. If, for example, my goal were to be moral and noble in all my activities, and thus possibly give me a sense of uniqueness in a flawed world, would I be unhappy in a society in which everyone had the same interpretation of nobility of purpose and tried just as hard? Perhaps one could after all be happy in a society in which everyone's self-conception was the same, and good. (There are deep issues involving individuality as necessary or desirable for happiness, even for social existence and institutions, that I cannot explore fully here.) Consequently, I am inclined to take the goal of uniqueness as an artifact of the flawed world around us. As a conscious goal in itself, uniqueness may thus be somewhat pathological. I should also mention that just as there is in most of us some sort of impulse toward a sense of uniqueness, so too there is a contradicting impulse toward feeling ourselves part of our society or of humanity.

Although I do not have time to argue the case here, I would tend to agree with Aristotle that to be good, happy, or virtuous, requires having a rational self-conception. I have interpreted this "rationality" broadly, in a way that includes not only "epistemological" rationality, but also (self-)beliefs’ role in practical reasoning--and even in our fuller emotional life. Even such a rational self-conception may not be sufficient for being virtuous or good. We could after all be a mountain of good intentions that, because of weakness of will or bad luck, we do not act upon. Its rationality lies for me in its sustainability, ability to motivate, focus, and so on. It could be objected that my notion of a "self-conception" is just a thinly disguised and somewhat tiresome Aristotelian notion of a final end or goal---a summum bonum---of human life, which Aristotle identified with eudaimonia ("happiness" or, following John Cooper, "human flourishing"). But there is a difference. A goal alone is not inspiring or capable of being the source of one's self-esteem. It may be merely a future-directed project. A self-conception is partly a view of what one is and what one has done---of accomplishments and pride in them---and that may inspire a goal. It is not identical to that goal. It may also contain constraints, such as beliefs about limitations an inabilities--although it may not contain only these.

Furthermore, an ideal self-conception will be more articulated than merely the bland, "I aim to be happy." Who could take pride in this, or be inspired by it? Similarly, "I intend to do what is right" lacks articulation concerning wherein "rightness" consists. An ideal self-conception will include some of the means to achieving a goal that are special to my background and place in the world. Coming to realize what these more detailed goals are will typically be hard-won, and there will be a pride in having discovered them. We will have a picture of ourselves as now fulfilling, or having partly fulfilled them; this, and the articulation of detail, is what distinguishes an arbitrary "goal" from a meaningful self-conception. A goal may after all be something we hope to accomplish, but have not yet begun; it may be something we intend for ourselves, but will never bring off---because it was not reasonable, given our place in the world, or because of the notorious weakness of will. An adult self-conception includes some sense of accomplishment and fuels further accomplishment.

One final and serious question centers on what we philosophers usually take for granted: that conscious knowledge is always good, and desirable for everyone. Is it always desirable consciously to evaluate and deliberate about all elements of one’s self conception and in the same way--e.g., just as we should evaluate whether beliefs satisfy epistemic desiderata. In other words, should the foundational, epistemic renovation programme announced in the first paragraphs of Descartes’ Meditations, which is so emblematic of the spirit of Modern Philosophy, be applied across all of the minds activities? I have my doubts--although I do not want to descend to the depraved depths of shallow, anti-intellectual (Richard) Rortyism. Instead, I propose a more complex and intellectual approach to the philosophy of mind.

There are obviously costs involved in consciously attending to one’s self-conception. The matter of one's history and psychology is complicated, and takes time, intellectual discipline, and maybe even study, to sort out. Furthermore, critical examination of one's self-conception may be painful when that self-conception is discovered to be thin or silly, and thus (momentarily?) destroy one of the usual benefits of having a self-conception in the first place, namely in giving one self-esteem. It would seem to be difficult to have a strong sense of self-worth when one has just reflected that one's self-conception---one's very core of motivational being---is silly and vapid. Psychologists would speak of implicit, or unconscious self-conceptions, and there is probably something to the claim that almost everyone has one of these, and from an early age. There may indeed be isolated cases where consciously reflecting on, or seeking to formulate one's self-conception will ultimately do more harm than good. However, let us admit that the struggle for an ideal self-conception, and with it, for an ideal life, is difficult and does not arise by chance. It requires self-correction. But how are we to move from a less to a more rational and fulfilling self-conception if we do not become conscious of our present self-conception and examine it critically, so that we may modify it? Our friends may help us here, and may even be able to see some of the more embarrassing components of our "implicit" self-conception. But there are not enough such friends, and they need our help to see what we are and what we can become, and thus to help us. So I assume that, in general, the more conscious knowledge of our self-conception, the better.

There is a sense in which I cannot say much more about ideal self-conceptions, how to develop them, and how they will contribute to your happiness. There is also a sense in which I should not morally try to tell you any more. (Many of you may even have self-conceptions closer to what I describe as ideal than I do.) I do believe that thinking rigorously and talking constructively about self-conceptions is something we should be doing a great deal more of, especially among friends. In fact, the notion of self-conception, sharing them, and helping others develop theirs is for me a central part of ideal friendship, and the issue that brought me to self-conceptions in the first place.

Knowing someone else's self-conception is part of what it is to know someone well. Certainly too, a good friend will not just know and accept your self-conception, whatever it is, but will also consciously seek its further development.

What good is a self-conception, and how is it necessary for a good life? Certainly it is useful, in order to satisfy our wants, to know exactly what those wants are, as John Kekes says. This is what has been called "values clarification." However--and there is no hint of this in Kekes’ quotation--sometimes our wants need to be rejected, reformed, or reordered--in a word, examined. We need to think hard about our current self-conceptions not because they constitute knowledge that is true--and what "knowledge" isn’t?-- but because we need to further improve upon them. Socrates’ message about the examined life, which were at least his own words, takes precedence. Furthermore, Socrates’ understanding of self-knowledge is decidedly not what Kekes’ quotation suggests, namely, about one’s wants. It is, roughly, knowledge of what all one does not know. Self- conceptions, "self knowledge" in this overblown rhetoric, should include beliefs about limitations and constraints, even as they should not be made entirely of these.

We might also guess that being aware of others’ self-conceptions, helping them improve and refine them, and assisting them in achieving the goals in them, is a large part of ideal friendship. Being aware of another’s self-conception is a kind of intimacy (the other is bodily). Correctly identifying others’ self-conceptions is also necessary for the selection of friends of virtue or friends with good character--that is, of those whom one should want as friends. And helping others reform their self-conceptions (where needed) and of achieving goals in this self-conception (where rational), would seem to be necessary for seriously caring about, and seeking to improve, another’s well-being.

I lament, and am a bit embarrassed by, the lack of serious intellectual discussion of these matters in the recent Western tradition. The development simply of a Weltanschauung, however clever, is altogether too passive a goal for the reflective but also constantly acting agent. Who among us has--and wants--just epistemically rational beliefs? I am also embarrassed at handling so roughly and unpoetically the core of our individual being, and the manifold diffuse nature of the life of the mind. These are things we normally don't talk about at all, except with our psychiatrists or long-term spouse or friend, and then infrequently. Some topics, such as gender, racial, cultural or familial pride, would take book-length treatments to untangle, and a more gentle prose than mine not to offend. (We live in touchy times, when many people quickly feign being deeply wounded by the slightest possibility of political offense.) Yet the crudity of my technique is I believe excused by the importance of the task, and by the fact that, to my knowledge, the topic has not always been adequately discussed.