Kerry James Marshall’s School of Beauty

“Bang”. Kerry James Marshall, 1994. Image from Artsy.

Can looking at art make us better people? Can art teach us to recognize in others and ourselves a humanity all too often constrained by narrow cultural definitions of beauty and social worth?


Painter Kerry James Marshall has long believed that art has an important social function, and that as a black artist, he should focus on black representation rather than abstraction. In his current retrospective exhibition MASTRY, here in Chicago at the Museum of Contemporary Art through September 25, his decision to engage with European “Old Masters” provokes in viewers recognition that the absence of black figures from Western art history is a moral loss as well as an aesthetic one. By insisting upon black representation and putting figures in dialogue with the great works of European art that exclude them, he also challenges viewers—as the best artists do—to see art, and each other, differently.


In his paintings, black figures challenge viewers to see them. In stark contrast to the Old Masters, who rarely use black in their palettes, Marshall paints his figures with pure black paint, mostly unmixed with other colors except for some highlights where light softly contours foreheads, noses, and lips. Eyes and teeth are sometimes rendered in dazzling whites, or muted greys. Marshall’s engagement with seeing and being seen was sparked, he says in a video accompanying his show at MCA Chicago, by his reading Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man. Indeed, the painting that begins the exhibit is the aptly-named Portrait of the Artist as a Shadow of His Former Self (1980), where white eyes and jack-o-lantern teeth gleam in the black field of an indiscernible face.


Marshall’s project of revising what we think we see or know reminds viewers who experience America from outside mainstream culture what it feels like to read symbols of beauty and freedom from the vantage point of struggle and invisibility, and schools viewers used to seeing only from one vantage point what it might be like to see differently. Viewers are forced to acknowledge the subjects of the paintings, and such acknowledgment requires a regard for another that intrudes on the closed world of the individual viewer, in an event not unlike the substitution in the work of Emmanuel Levinas, where “In substitution my being that belongs to me and not to another is undone, and it is through substitution that I am not ‘another,’ but me.” (Levinas, Otherwise than Being). Marshall asks viewers to enter a scene and reflect on the people there. His perspective, while flattened, opens out to viewers, who feel as if they are standing at the edge of the room or the side of the yard. Viewers must look closely to make out the details of his figures, often set against dark or dimly-lit backgrounds. It is necessary to stop, look, and engage with these subjects, many of whom look back, confronting viewers with a direct gaze. This confrontation demands a response, and in this proximity there is the possibility of ethics. “We see you,” the figures seem to say. “Can you see us?”


Marshall likes to complicate our collective sense of what we know by taking familiar holidays such as the Fourth of July and opening up a different way of looking at them by referencing art history. In Bang (1994), a picture that seems particularly timely now, as athletes supporting Black Lives Matter refrain from saluting the flag, and force many to consider the function of public displays of patriotism, a black girl stands in a backyard with her hand placed reverently across her chest, holding up an American flag in front of two boys who also salute with their hands on their hearts. Pink clouds in the foreground are strung together by a banner carrying words from the Great Seal of the United States, “We Are One.” The words on the clouds form the phrase “Happy July 4th Bang,” and overhead another banner carried by doves forcefully declares, “Resistance to tyranny is obedience to god.” Here the promise of American prosperity suggested by these slogans seems realized in the gentle suburban landscape, one where black children safely play amid neat houses and trimmed lawns while their holiday dinner cooks on the grill.


But the painting also references medieval and renaissance religious paintings, lending the patriotic tableau both a holy and an ominous cast. The gentle curve of the girl’s neck as she holds out the flag—the symbol of her faith— is achingly vulnerable. Behind her, a patch of yellow on a garage door makes a halo over her head, and beams of light issue from her brow. She is a martyred saint, or the Virgin Mary, her head at the center of the painting, as it would be in a religious icon. The word “Bang” on the pink cloud just as easily suggests the sound of guns as it does fireworks. The boys look away in different directions, their faces innocent, as the barbeque grill issues a coil of smoke and a garden hose circles the girl like a snake. In the background large sunbeams echo the rays in the girl’s halo, but the sun appears to be setting, and the children are standing on a patch of darkness the shape of a grave. In the foreground, shadows enter the frame and angle towards them.

“School of Beauty, School of Culture”, Kerry James Marshall, 2012. Image from Birmingham Museum of Art.


In another work, School of Beauty, School of Culture (2012), Marshall “schools” viewers to see and understand how the beauty of black women is often haunted and constrained by mainstream culture’s white beauty standards. The scene seems to be a bustling celebration of black women’s beauty, where heart-shaped mirrors on the walls of a thriving black hair salon reflect the words “School of Beauty School of Culture” in backwards letters, and the words “Dark” and “Lovely” are repeated on posters dotting the walls. “It’s Your Hair!” emphasizes one, an encouragement to patrons to claim their style and resist acquiescing to dominant notions about how black hair should be worn. Black women with many different hairstyles move through the space; one looks directly out at us and strikes a classic pinup pose, as if to say, “I am beautiful.” A signed copy of the 1998 landmark album The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, with its cover image of a black woman with snaky hair, hangs over a doorway in the center of the painting, echoing the painting’s emphasis on black women’s beauty, lives and experiences, as well as the theme of education.


But something floats in the space between two young children in the foreground: an anamorphic image attenuated to resemble the similarly floating image in the foreground of Holbein’s The Ambassadors (1533). In Holbein, two richly dressed men stand amidst their musical instruments, maps, books, and globes, symbols of their worldly accomplishments, while an anamorphic skull, stretched to the point of being nearly

“The Ambassadors.” 1533, Hans Holbein the Younger. Image from the National Gallery.

unrecognizable, floats between them in the foreground. The skull foreshortens if the viewer moves to the far right of the painting and looks sideways at it, revealing the classic vanitas theme: death waits for all men, regardless of wealth, stature, or skill. In Marshall’s School of Beauty, the image that haunts the scene is Sleeping Beauty, and she also takes shape if the viewer moves to one side of the painting—the left side, in this case, in a mirror-like reversal of Holbein, hinted at by the reversed letters in the mirrors above the salon. Although the adult women in the picture seem unaware of Sleeping Beauty, the child at the center of the picture sees her clearly, and actually stoops to see past her to the little girl on the other side. Unlike Holbein’s skull, Sleeping Beauty casts a shadow in the picture, and her blond hair, blue eyes, and white skin shadow this scene celebrating black women’s beauty. School of Beauty, School of Culture teaches viewers to make the effort to look differently at the painting, much as Holbein teaches his viewers to move to one side, making the effort to look differently at his painting. In Marshall’s case, he is asking us to reverse the look we have learned from “Old Master,” to recognize that Sleeping Beauty haunts this scene, but to make the effort to see her, and look past her white beauty ideal, as the little child does, and see all the beautiful black women searching for their own reflections.


Kerry James Marshall asks viewers to recognize the ways in which Anglo-European culture has limited artistic representation and ideals of beauty to the images and experiences of white subjects. As a remedy to this, he offers ways of seeing that expand the notion of which bodies get to be represented as beautiful and inspiring. By insisting that black subjects belong in museums, galleries, and high art, he enlarges cultural assumptions of what constitutes the beautiful, the human, and the divine, and this is a supremely wonderful thing.


This video accompanies the exhibition Kerry James Marshall: Mastry, organized by the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, and The Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles. Kerry James Marshall: Mastry is on view at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago, April 23–September 25, 2016, at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, October 25, 2016–January 29, 2017, and at The Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, March 12–July 2, 2017.


Jaime Hovey is Associate Program Director for Virtue, Happiness, & the Meaning of Life.

Food Preferences, Temperance, and Virtue

Baby eating dragon fruit
Adobe stock photo.

The concept of habit plays a central role in Thomas Aquinas’ moral theory, and in his analytic psychology more generally. He identifies habits as one of the fundamental principles of human action, together with the capacities of intellect, passions, and will – appropriately so, because habits are nothing other than stable dispositions of these capacities, which enable them to operate in coherent, appropriate ways. Habits are subject to moral evaluation, just as actions are, and the habits of the passions and the will are always either virtues or vices, just as human actions are always morally good or evil. Even more fundamentally, habits of some kind are necessary to the functioning of both the appetites and the intellect. Without some kind of internal development and formation, the appetites and the rational powers of the human creature cannot function at all, or can only operate in rudimentary and ineffective ways. By implication, human action as we know it, whether from our experience as agents or by observation of others, is almost always shaped by habits of some kind, formed out of natural (or supernatural) principles of operation through processes of training and development. Human existence and action is ultimately grounded in natural principles, but the innate principles of human action do not enter directly into our ordinary experiences – rather, we act and interact with one another through the structures set up by the stable dispositions of our virtues, vices, and other habits.
These are claims about the origins and structuring principles of human action, and as such, they invite comparison with other kinds of claims about human psychology, including those set forth by contemporary experimental psychology. A comparison of this kind might seem to be ruled out by the radical differences in assumptions and methodology that divide Aquinas from contemporary scientists of any kind. Yet when we compare what Aquinas says about the habits, we find unexpected resonances with recent work on the formation of stable dispositions, especially those relating to such fundamental matters as food preferences. We need to be careful not to overstate the extent and significance of these resonances. However, it would seem that at the very least, Aquinas and contemporary psychologists share points of reference that enable us to compare them in fruitful ways. To put it crudely, we can assume that they are talking about the same things, more or less, namely, human activities and experiences, together with whatever principles or structures account for these.
I want to defend and develop this way of approaching Aquinas’ psychology by comparing what he says about the formation and necessity of habit with recent work on the formation of food preferences in infants. This research lends support to Aquinas’ view that even the most fundamental human capacities for desire and aversion need some kind of rational formation and structuring in order to function properly. Indeed, Aquinas’ analytical psychology and contemporary experimental psychology seem to converge, and for a Thomist, this convergence suggests that research in this area might tend to confirm—or at least shed light on—Aquinas’ account of a virtue such as temperance, as it pertains to the pleasures of food and drink. When we turn back to relevant studies, however, it would seem that they challenge Aquinas’ account of temperance, insofar as he defines this virtue by reference to the individual’s bodily needs. On further reflection, contemporary work on food preferences is not inconsistent with Aquinas’ account of temperance, but it does suggest that a Thomistic account of the virtue of temperance needs to be expanded and developed in certain ways, if we are to do full justice to the complexities of developmental formation.

Adobe stock photo.

Habits are commonly associated with stereotyped, repetitive behaviors that often fall outside the range of one’s conscious awareness and may even be experienced as somehow contrary to one’s desires. A habit in the Thomistic sense more nearly resembles a skill, such as touch typing, than a habit like pulling one’s beard – indeed, the skill of touch typing is a habit in Aquinas’ sense, whereas beard-pulling is not. Habits understood in this way are clearly more interesting and important than the kind of habits that we only notice when we want to break them. But we have not yet taken full account of just how important habits are, on Aquinas’ view. He claims that habits of some kind are necessary for the proper functioning of the rational creature. Human capacities for perception, understanding, and desire are naturally indeterminate, and stand in need of some level of development in order to function at all.
Contemporary developmental psychology offers at least one example of a kind of system that would appear at first glance to function in much the same way as do the habits, as Aquinas understands them: “[E]ach of a multitude of core knowledge systems emerges early in development, serves to identify the entities in its domain by analysing their distinctive characteristics, and supports the acquisition of further knowledge about those entities by focusing on the critical features that distinguish different members of the domain (Shutts et al).” A system of core knowledge would thus seem to provide the same kinds of rational structures, and thus to facilitate appropriate functioning, in the same way that habits do. Systems of core knowledge would not be equivalent to habits as Aquinas understands them, but on the contrary, they would provide evidence that habits in this sense would be superfluous.

bb mangeant
Adobe stock photo.

We can tentatively identify at least one such system that appears to be comprised of highly general concepts, which can only function properly after some level of formation, namely, the system of core knowledge with respect to food. For more than thirty years, psychologists have been studying the emergence and development of the infant’s ability to distinguish between edible and inedible objects, and between appropriate and healthy, or inappropriate, spoiled, or otherwise unsuitable food. In contrast to adults, older children, and at least some kinds of non-human primates, human infants are remarkably indiscriminate with respect to what they will ingest; one study summarizes that “items regarded by adults as dangerous, disgusting, or inappropriate, and combinations of individually liked foods that are unacceptable to adults were readily accepted by many of the younger children in our sample…. [However,] within the 16 month to five year age range studied, there is a clear developmental trend towards rejection of items that adults consider disgusting or dangerous.” (Rozin)

Baby beim Fttern
Adobe stock photo.


Indeed, recent research indicates that the food preferences of young children are not only formed through social interactions, but strongly tied to perceptions of, and feelings about, group identity. This research supports what experience would seem to confirm, that our habituated desires for specific foods may reflect our sense of social identity and a socially mediated sense of what is desirable, seemly, or appropriate for those of our kind. If this is so, then it would appear that at an early stage, the developing child begins to develop normatively laden food preferences, reflecting basic judgments about what one ought to eat.


Young african american father giving milk to  her baby girl in a
Adobe stock photo.

This way of construing the development of food preferences is highly suggestive from the standpoint of a Thomist virtue ethicist. The virtue of temperance, for example, is a habitual disposition towards desires and aversions that reflect normative judgments of some kind. Any suggestion that early childhood food preferences develop in accordance with normative judgments will be grist to the mill for a contemporary Thomist. At the same time, we need to be careful not to move too quickly between contemporary psychology and Aquinas’ account of temperance. It is not immediately evident that the normative ideal informing temperance is the same as the normative standards informing the food preferences of young children. This does not mean that recent research disconfirms Aquinas’ analysis of temperance, but it does point to a more interesting way of thinking about the relation between these two very different ways of thinking about our most basic desires.


Kristin Shutts, Kirsten F. Condry, Laurie R. Santos, and Elizabeth S. Spelke, “Core Knowledge and its Limits: The Domain of Food,” Cognition. 2009 Jul; 112 (1): 120–140.
Paul Rozin, Larry Hammer, Harriet Oster, Talia Horowitz and Veronica Marmora, “The Child’s Conception of Food: Differentiation of Categories of Rejected Substances in the 16 Months to 5 Year Age Range,” Appetite, 1986, 7, 141-151.

Jean Porter is the John A. O’Brien Professor of Theological Ethics at the University of Notre Dame and Scholar with Virtue, Happiness, & the Meaning of Life.

Audio: “Happiness without Religion? A Philosophical Debate”

Audio: “Happiness without Religion? A Philosophical Debate”

On September 10, 2016, Principal Investigators Jennifer A. Frey and Candace Vogler and Scholar Fr. Thomas Joseph White debated “Happiness without Religion? A Philosophical Debate” at the Catholic Center at NYU. R. Reno of First Things moderated and offered critique.

Thank you to the Thomistic Institute for sponsoring this event and making these recordings available on SoundCloud.


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Photos: “Happiness without Religion? A Philosophical Debate”| Catholic Center at NYU

We had a full house for our September 10, 2016 session, “Happiness without Religion? A Philosophical Debate” at the Catholic Center at NYU. Moderated by R.R. Reno of First Things, presentations were made by Jennifer A. Frey, Assistant Professor, University of South Carolina and Co-Principal Investigator, Virtue, Happiness, & the Meaning of Life; Candace Vogler, David B. and Clara E. Stern Professor of Philosophy, University of Chicago and Co-Principal Investigator, Virtue, Happiness, & the Meaning of Life; and Thomas Joseph White, OP, Executive Director, Thomistic Institute Dominican House of Studies, and Scholar, Virtue, Happiness, & the Meaning of Life.

Thank you to  the Thomistic Institute for sponsoring this event, and to photographer George Goss for these wonderful photos!

Virtue and the Pursuit of Ignorance

Frank Gehry BP Pedestrian Bridge. Photo by Chris Smith.


A venerable tradition in philosophy, associated primarily with Aristotle and Plato, maintains that having knowledge is virtuous, while ignorance is a vice. Accordingly, no trait can be a virtue if having that trait requires being ignorant of certain facts. Julia Driver argues, however, most fully in her 2001 book Uneasy Virtue, that certain virtues require ignorance: modesty, blind charity (seeing only the good in people), trust in certain people even in the face of contrary evidence, impulsive courage, and forgiving-and- forgetting. [1] Although I would contest her inclusion of modesty and I see issues about some of the others, I believe that not only is drawing a connection between certain virtues and ignorance fundamentally sound, but the connection extends far beyond Driver’s examples. She has advocated for something very important.


Let’s distinguish two questions about the connection between ignorance and virtue. One is whether being in a state of ignorance is required by certain virtues, and the other is whether it is virtuous in some circumstances to cultivate ignorance, to deliberately be ignorant. In Driver’s examples, one may be ignorant of the value of one’s achievements, or of another’s faults, or of evidence that would cast aspersions on the truthfulness of a longtime friend, or of dangers, but not in every case should that be through choice of a policy not to know certain things. In fact, in some cases (like modesty, in Driver’s view of modesty) it would be odd to cultivate ignorance.[2] She draws a nice distinction between commending and recommending.[3] One might commend someone for trusting another person despite contrary evidence, or for being clueless about another’s faults because one accords everyone the benefit of a doubt, yet not recommend this course to anyone. And in many cases, we have the opposite–being ignorant is not crucial, it’s the pursuit of ignorance, the decision not to find out, that reflects a virtue. It is sometimes tricky to identify and name that virtue, albeit it is fairly easy to say that refraining from learning information in certain cases is “virtuous.” And, further, as my colleagues at the Virtue, Happiness, & Meaning of Life project suggested, in some cases “ignorance” is not the best term; “nescience” is better. But for now I will stick to the term “ignorance” in light of the growing use of the term “virtuous ignorance” even outside philosophical and academic circles. [4]


There are at least three sorts of grounding for virtuous ignorance: pragmatic, conceptual, and normative. In the pragmatic category, knowledge can produce harmful effects. A different case for affirming virtues of ignorance is conceptual: it is part of the definition of the virtue of ignorance that the person possessing the virtues that Driver names is ignorant (or, if you prefer, nescient) of certain facts. Finally, in some instances we might regard some ignorance as virtuous because certain norms require such ignorance.


Here is a partial inventory of cases where the pursuit of ignorance or the ignorance itself is virtuous. I will leave it to readers to sort out which case is which, as well as to figure out whether the grounds for discouraging investigation into truth are pragmatic, conceptual or normative. Additional distinctions may be drawn.


  1. It is virtuous not to pry into other people’s lives—medical records, salaries, sex life– except in cases like police work, congressional probes, and appropriate investigative journalism. In addition jurors may be obligated not to listen to news, peer reviewers should not try to find out who authored the paper they evaluated, and students should not inquire into each others’ grades.
  2. According to a Rawlsian approach, people voting on a policy should try to put themselves behind a veil of ignorance (albeit in most circumstances the veil is perforce imaginary or hypothetical).
  3. Sometimes, refusing to seek further information about a question is beneficial and wise. Thus, inquiring into one’s genetic makeup may result in distress, despair, and immobilization. There is of course a cost to cultivating ignorance as well.
  4. Knowing the future could preclude or diminish choice and responsibility.
  5. In the Kantian tradition, seeking to know metaphysical truth is doubly vicious: it shows foolishness (trying to do the impossible, especially if there are no metaphysical truths!) and arrogance (thinking that one can know certain truths when one actually cannot).
  6. Science tries to combat ignorance and establish knowledge. Surely a widespread and long-standing critique of science is that with knowledge comes power and with power come abuses of power. Are there perhaps areas where science shouldn’t go?
  7. Religion provides several examples of the pursuit of ignorance. In some religious traditions, for example, people are told not to read certain mystical texts until a certain age, or, not at all, save for the elite. Shunning these texts shows the virtue of fidelity to and respect for tradition (the tradition that disallows the reading), as well as humility, since one might recognize that one’s cognitive ability or ability to handle certain material is limited.


To take another example from a religious context (I have Judaism in mind), some argue that it is wrong to inquire into God’s reasons for commandments. The argument goes that (a) we can’t fathom God’s reasons and (b) Although the reasons for particular commandments are knowable, if we come to know them, we might violate them by dint of thinking the reason silly, or inapplicable to the times, or inapplicable to oneself. But the most significant religious example of the virtuous pursuit of ignorance involves theodicy — more precisely, an approach called antitheodicy.[5] As I use the term here, antitheodicy is the position that it is irrational and/or unethical and/or pointless and/or otherwise inappropriate or wrong for theists even to seek theodicies. This position has generally been advanced (when it has been advanced) by authors steeped in Continental philosophy, where metaphysics is eschewed.


The foregoing cases make up a motley crew, but that is precisely the point— if we adopt certain views about particular sorts of cases, the virtuousness of pursuing ignorance proves to be widespread. As I mentioned, certain distinctions have to be drawn among these different cases, for example, between being ignorant and pursuing ignorance and between different groundings for the judgments of vicious and virtuous that figure in these cases. But we can at least say this: Ignorance is not always bliss, but it is remarkable how desirable a commodity it and/or its pursuit may be in the nurturing of virtue. At times it or its pursuit may be morally imperative; but the examples need much further analysis and investigation.


[1] See Julia Driver, Uneasy Virtue (New York: Oxford UP, 2001); “Response to My Critics,” Uitilitas 16 (2004): 33-41. Driver argues for this view about ignorance as part of a larger attack on the notion that virtue per se or virtue across the board requires certain internal, psychological states.

[2] See also Michael Slote, “Driver’s Virtues,” Utilitas 16 (2004): 22-32, at p. 24. Slote adds some interesting cases to the discussion. For example, he argues (25-26) that sometimes it is “a mark of virtue or moral goodness” for an agent to feel guilty about having done something that, unbeknownst to the agent, is in fact not wrong. It speaks well of the agent to be incorrect. Here it is being ignorant that would be virtuous, not cultivating ignorance.

[3] Driver, Uneasy Virtue, 38-39.

[4] Indeed, “virtuous ignorance” has hit a big market.: Googling the term on September 12, 2016 turned up over a million hits for “virtuous ignorance” and “virtues of ignorance” many of them from the social science. (There’s overlap, but the total number is nevertheless striking.) Notably, in the Oscar-winning movie The Birdman, a critic reviews a play by using the phrase “The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance.” In fact, it’s part of the movie’s official title. She meant that Michael Keaton’s movie character’s performance in a play violated convention but was of high quality nonetheless. Sometimes the term is used to commend avoiding learning what experts say (which often is another way of saying that the experts aren’t really experts).

[5]John Hick, Evil and the God of Love (Houndmills; Palgrave, 1985), 6-11.

David Shatz is the Ronald P. Stanton University Professor of Philosophy, Ethics, and Religious Thought, Yeshiva University and a scholar with the project Virtue, Happiness, & the Meaning of Life.

Owen Flanagan Joins Virtue Scholars


Virtue, Happiness, & the Meaning of Life (VHML) has a new scholar: Philosopher Owen Flanagan of Duke University will join the scholars at their next two working group meetings. Flanagan and our project are already familiar with each other; he was a faculty member during the June 2016 Summer Seminar “Virtue & Happiness”.


When asked to comment about his participation in the project, Flanagan spoke about the project’s aims to pinpoint the place of the virtues in finding deep meaning in life. “My recent work is in cross-cultural philosophy.  Every tradition makes virtue a necessary condition of flourishing.  But the most prized virtues differ across traditions — Justice among liberals, compassion among Buddhists, filial piety among Confucians.  Working with wise souls who think about the place of virtue in a good life is an amazing and welcomed opportunity.”


Candace Vogler, one of the Principal Investigators (along with Jennifer A. Frey at the University of South Carolina) of  VHML, expressed her enthusiasm for Flanagan’s presence on the team of scholars. “Owen Flanagan is an extraordinarily astute and erudite philosopher trained in analytic philosophy but bringing deep and serious engagements with Buddhist, Hindu, and Confucian understandings of virtue.  He has vibrant interest in questions about how one should live and significant cross-disciplinary experience at the intersections of the humanities and the social and natural sciences.  He is an exemplary interlocutor—generous, patient, serious and cheerful, and always receptive to others’ views. He will strengthen our collaborative work in more ways than I can imagine.”


Owen Flanagan is James B. Duke University Professor of Philosophy and Co-Director of the Center for Comparative Philosophy.  He also holds appointments in Psychology and Neuroscience, and is a Faculty Fellow in Cognitive Neuroscience and a steering committee member of the “Philosophy, Arts, and Literature” (PAL) program, and an Affiliate of the Graduate Program in Literature. In 2016-2017, Flanagan will be a Berggruen Fellow at the Center for Advanced Studies in the Behavioral Sciences, Stanford University.

TODAY 3pm “Happiness without Religion? A Philosophical Debate”|Catholic Center at NYU

9.10.16 - Happiness Without Religion Master_0

  • Candace Vogler, David B. and Clara E. Stern Professor of Philosophy, University of Chicago and Co-Principal Investigator, Virtue, Happiness, & the Meaning of Life
  • R.R. Reno, First Things
  • Jennifer A. Frey, Assistant Professor, University of South Carolina and Co-Principal Investigator, Virtue, Happiness, & the Meaning of Life
  • Thomas Joseph White, OP, Executive Director, Thomistic InstituteDominican House of Studies, and Scholar, Virtue, Happiness, & the Meaning of Life

Free and open to the public.