Virtue, Not Virtue Signaling

We need to move past the performative displays of moral superiority that proliferate on social media and in corporate boardrooms. Classical schools instead are opting for teaching traditional virtue.

“Jeune Dame,” Édouard Manet, 1866

Across the country, a growing number of classical schools are attempting something that might seem impossibly anachronistic: they are trying to teach virtue. This is not the virtue signaling that has become so familiar in contemporary discourse—the performative displays of moral superiority that proliferate on social media and in corporate boardrooms. Rather, it is an attempt to revive something far older and more demanding: the classical notion that education is fundamentally about the formation of character, not merely the transmission of information or the acquisition of skills.

The distinction matters more than we might think. Virtue signaling, as the term suggests, is primarily about appearances. It is the careful curation of one's moral image for public consumption. It is virtue as brand management through yards signs and bumper stickers, ethics as social positioning. Notably, it need not be backed by anything substantive. The traditional understanding of virtue, by contrast, exists independent of audience or applause. It is concerned not with how one appears to others but with who one actually is when nobody is watching.

The ancient Greeks called it arete, a word that encompassed excellence of character as well as excellence of mind. For Plato, the truly educated person was one who had achieved harmony between reason, spirit, and appetite—whose soul was properly ordered toward the good. Aristotle refined this conception, arguing that virtue was not merely a matter of knowledge but of habit, formed through repeated practice until right action became second nature. The Romans translated this into virtus, the quality that made a citizen worthy of the Republic. Medieval scholars, synthesizing classical wisdom with Christian theology, spoke of the homo universalis: the person educated not merely in technical skills but in the full range of human excellences.

These were not abstractions but lived realities, embedded in educational systems that took seriously the idea that schools existed to form souls, not just minds. The curriculum was broad by necessity: literature to cultivate sympathy and imagination, mathematics to train the mind in rigorous thinking, history to provide models of noble action, rhetoric to enable persuasive discourse in service of truth. But beneath the surface diversity lay a unified purpose: the cultivation of wisdom, courage, justice, and temperance in their students.

Modern education—modernist education—by contrast, has largely abandoned such lofty ambitions. Driven by economic imperatives and measured by standardized assessments, schools have become increasingly instrumental in their orientation. The question is no longer "What kind of person should we help this child become?" but rather "What skills does this child need to compete in the global marketplace?" Education has been flattened from a humanistic endeavor into a technical one. It has moved from human formation into mere information transfer.

The classical schools movement represents a deliberate attempt to recover what has been lost. These institutions, some ancient and prestigious, but most newly founded in the past 15 years, share a conviction that education must be about more than career preparation. They teach Latin not because it is practical but because it disciplines the mind. They require rhetoric not because students will become lawyers but because citizens in a democracy must be able to speak persuasively for truth and justice. They study the great books not simply because they are “relevant” to contemporary issues but because they contain perennial wisdom about the human condition.

This approach invariably raises questions about elitism and accessibility. Critics argue that classical education is the province of privilege, available primarily to those wealthy enough to afford private schools or affluent enough to live in districts where such programs exist. Even though there are a growing number of public schools like the Hillsdale College K-12 network of BCSI schools, here is a germ of truth to this charge, but it misses something essential: the classical tradition, at its best, has always been radically democratic in its assumptions. It holds that every human being is capable of wisdom and virtue, that excellence of character is not the exclusive possession of any class or group.

The challenge facing classical educators today is how to distinguish their work from the mere performance of virtue that characterizes so much contemporary moral discourse. It is one thing to require high school students to read Aristotle’s Ethics; it is quite another to help them internalize its lessons. It is easy to “celebrate diversity” in assembly talks; it is harder to cultivate genuine humility and compassion in the daily life of a school community.

Perhaps the key lies in recognizing that virtue, unlike virtue signaling, cannot be taught through slogans or mission statements. It must be modeled by adults who themselves embody the excellences they hope to cultivate in their students. It must be practiced through small daily acts of courage, honesty, and kindness. It must be understood not as a destination but as a lifelong odyssey toward human flourishing.

Yes, the classical tradition offers something both ancient and urgently contemporary: the vision of education as the patient cultivation of wisdom and character. Whether this vision can take root in our pragmatic, results-oriented culture remains to be seen. But for those willing to embrace it, the promise remains what it always has been: not merely to produce successful graduates, but to form human beings worthy of the name.

Michael S. Rose, a leader in the classical education movement, is author of The Art of Being Human, Ugly as Sin and other books. His articles have appeared in dozens of publications including The Wall Street Journal, Epoch Times, New York Newsday, National Review, and The Dallas Morning News.