In 2018 I was summoned for jury duty and witnessed the most amazing display of human beings operating outside of their natural habitat. Here’s what I saw, lightly edited from my original Facebook post.
I was summoned for jury duty today. They didn’t get far enough down the list to get to my name, but I noticed something—several things, actually—that seems worth the time to point out. When a regular guy gets up in the morning, he’s just a regular joe. He’s not a philospoher. He’s not a jurist or a statesman or a logician or a writer or a theologian or an ethicist. No, he’s just a regular joe. And then he gets to the jury pool, where suddenly, a few people are keenly interested in his thoughts on some particular subjects.
Suddenly, the man having never before been asked about such things, is asked in front of many people to share his views. It’s as if the curtains were raised, the spotlight were on, and the audience were waiting with bated breath to hear his views. But if he’s an average guy, he has no formal philosophy. He’s never developed an exhaustive method of thinking things through. He has no particular set of rules for his outlook on the world, other than the simple rule of thinking whatever seems best at any given time. And with that, there’s little chance he can see where his own answers are headed before they get there. He just starts talking in reply to the questions—likely having little idea what will come out of his mouth.
It’s not like he’s ever rehearsed such things. In fact, by the time he finishes his first sentence, he may well have reached a conclusion that he didn’t have in mind when he began that sentence. He’s just not a sophisticated being. He’s shooting from the hip. It’s reflex; best-guess material.
No one among them says, “Oh, I’ve thought about this a lot over the years, and here is my answer.” No one says, “Well, I know that great minds have disagreed on this question throughout history, but here’s my take on it.” No, they just say what comes to mind, and that’s that. They’re not talking as if their words were going on the record to be made into an epic film someday, or as if a Shakespeare were taking them down to turn them into a classic play. They don’t know if their thoughts are worthy of such esteem or not; they’re just talking off the cuff. And that’s very interesting to me. About us, that is. About what kind of people we are—generally, so casually considered. So unmethodical and inattentive to our own philosophies. So unprepared for the quiz. So far from being ready to be quoted in the newspaper.
Most simply think what seems best to them to think in the moment, with little idea how good that thinking is. And that’s very interesting to me. It seems to be what most of our culture is generally like. It’s not so much, “Is this going to be on the test?” as it is, “Oh, I didn’t *know* there was a test!” Or “I didn’t know anybody was paying attention!” Or, “I didn’t really think that what a person thinks matters very much.”
Well, some certainly don’t think it does. But I’ve been thinking about that for many years now, and I think it matters much. In fact, I think that the way we think is one of the most important things about us. So, to me, it’s very interesting when people are put on the spot with these jury-selection questions. It’s a rare experience to see so many people talking about such things in one meeting. I wonder, though: What if we as people talked about such things every week? Would we be better at it? Would we be more streamlined? More consistent in our judgments? More methodical? More principles-based? More deliberate? What if we were the sort to give careful thought to our ways? How would the world be different then?
EDITED TO ADD: Kay points out in retrospect that at the time in history when trial by jury became a thing, Americans were being philosophers at home and at the market and at the city gates. And I am reminded by her thoughts of Alexis De Tocqueville’s observations about what Early Americans were like:
I have lived a great deal with the people in the United
democracy in america. Alexis de tocqueville. 1835-1840
States, and I cannot express how much I admire their experience and their good sense. An American should never be allowed to speak of Europe; for he will then probably display a vast deal of presumption and very foolish pride. He will take up with those crude and vague notions which are so useful to the ignorant all over the world. But if you question him respecting his own
country, the cloud which dimmed his intelligence will immediately disperse; his language will become as clear and as precise as his thoughts. He will inform you what his rights are, and by what means he exercises them; he will be able to point out the customs which obtain in the political world. You will find that he is well acquainted with the rules of the administration, and that he is familiar with the mechanism of the laws. The citizen of the United States does not acquire his practical science and his
positive notions from books; the instruction he has acquired may 376 have prepared him for receiving those ideas, but it did not furnish them. The American learns to know the laws by participating in the act of legislation; and he takes a lesson in the forms of government from governing. The great work of society is ever going on beneath his eyes, and, as it were, under his hands.
In the United States politics are the end and aim of
education; in Europe its principal object is to fit men for
private life. The interference of the citizens in public affairs
is too rare an occurrence for it to be anticipated beforehand.
Upon casting a glance over society in the two hemispheres, these
differences are indicated even by its external aspect.
In Europe we frequently introduce the ideas and the habits
of private life into public affairs; and as we pass at once from
the domestic circle to the government of the State, we may
frequently be heard to discuss the great interests of society in the same manner in which we converse with our friends. The Americans, on the other hand, transfuse the habits of public life into their manners in private; and in their country the jury is introduced into the games of schoolboys, and parliamentary forms
are observed in the order of a feast.
I think, then, that times are not now as good as they were then, in this respect. I think that America has lost something valuable. I don’t mean to exaggerate my point, as if Americans were all philosophical giants once upon a time. But if the American consciousness can be lowered since 1835, surely it could be heightened again.
