philosophy-ethics
Intellectual Virtue Signaling and (Non)Expert Credibility
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Journal of the American Philosophical Association (2025) 118–134 © The Author(s), 2024. Published by Cambridge
University Press on behalf of The American Philosophical Association. This is an Open Access article, distributed under
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DOI:10.1017/apa.2024.3
Intellectual Virtue Signaling and (Non)Expert Credibility
ABSTRACT: In light of the complexity of some important matters, the best epistemic strategy for laypersons is often to rely heavily on the judgments of subject matter experts. However, given the contentiousness of some issues and the existence of fake experts, determining who to trust from the lay perspective is no simple matter. One proposed approach is for laypersons to attend to displays of intellectual virtue as indicators of expertise. I argue that this strategy is likely to fail, as non-experts often display apparent intellectual virtues while legitimate experts often display apparent intellectual vices. Then, I argue that this challenge is difficult to overcome, as experts who attempt to better exhibit apparent intellectual virtues would likely compromise their own reliability in the process. Finally, I discuss two conclusions—one more optimistic and one more pessimistic—that one might draw concerning the role of intellectual virtue in the identification of experts.
KEYWORDS: autonomy, experts, intellectual virtue, open-mindedness, virtue signaling
Introduction
In many domains of inquiry, the most truth-conducive strategy for laypersons is to
defer to relevant experts, at least when there is a consensus among them. This
point underscores the importance of laypersons being able to identify the relevant
experts in various domains. This is a notoriously difficult task, especially in those
cases in which there exists substantial controversy about target questions.
Moreover, allegations of conspiratorial activity on the part of putative experts
may complicate laypersons’ identification of reliable sources.
In section one, I recount strategies that have been identified to facilitate laypersons’ identifications of relevant experts. In the process, I offer some critical remarks concerning some of the proposed strategies. Then, in section two, I draw attention to a neglected complication in the identification of experts. In short, non-expert sources often outperform legitimate experts in displays of intellectual virtue. Insofar as laypersons rely on displays of intellectual virtue as credibility cues, they can be expected to misallocate trust. In section three, I consider the extent to which the problem identified here can be solved. I argue that the challenge is severe, as attempts by experts to increase their perceived credibility by signaling intellectual virtue would either be insincere and often counterproductive or would reduce their effectiveness qua experts. This is because good intellectual practice often conflicts with what, from the lay perspective, seems to be good
intellectual practice. I conclude with some brief remarks on how this challenge
might in principle be met.
1. The Identification of Experts
Following Alvin Goldman, I define an expert in a domain as:
[S]omeone who possesses an extensive fund of knowledge (true belief)
and a set of skills or methods for apt and successful deployment of
this knowledge to new questions in the domain. (2001: 92)
So construed, expertise is an objective matter of actual and potential reliability. It is
thus possible, on the present approach, that those widely regarded as experts are not
legitimate experts. For example, it is in principle possible that an astrophysicist with
an excellent reputation, credentials, and professional positions to his name is only an
apparent expert. Likewise, it is possible in principle on the present approach that
some individuals lacking the trappings of expertise are experts nonetheless. How
regularly the trappings of expertise are misaligned with actual expertise will
depend on the integrity of the processes by which reputation, credentials and the
like are awarded, individuals’ opportunities to pursue the trappings of expertise,
individuals’ interest in doing so, and so on. Thus, for some examples, nepotism
and other forms of favoritism, as well as discriminatory practices, can cause
misalignments between legitimate expertise and the markers of expertise.
Because expertise is an objective matter, and actual expertise may in principle
depart from perceived expertise, the identification of legitimate experts is a
non-trivial task. In some cases, the identification of legitimate experts is not
necessary for truth-conducive epistemic reliance on others. For example, the
proposition that Finland exists is, at least for most people, believed to be based on
the testimony of others. However, because there is virtually no disagreement
concerning this proposition, truth-conducive social epistemic reliance on others
does not require distinguishing between experts and non-experts. For a broad
range of other questions, however, there exists substantial disagreement that
complicates the epistemic policy of deference to experts. Notably, while many
social epistemologists have focused on cases of disagreement among putative
experts bearing the trappings of expertise—disputes between professional
scientists, for example—the challenge is broader than this. In addition to
disagreements within epistemic institutions, propositions that are widely accepted
within such institutions are often challenged from without. For example,
proponents of alternative medicine regularly challenge orthodox medical claims
and practices. The challenge facing the layperson is thus not merely to select
sources among putative experts bearing similar institutional status, but to select
among a broader range of claimants to objective expertise.
Let us turn to some proposed strategies for selecting well, several of which
were offered in a pioneering article by Goldman (2001). The first strategy
discussed by Goldman is the direct evaluation of the content of experts’
arguments. For present purposes, I take this strategy to be a non-starter. We
are chiefly interested in those cases in which a layperson is not practically
capable of reliably evaluating the cases for and against various claims. The
inability to do so is, after all, the reason for which the layperson must identify
the right expert(s) to which to defer.
Even if laypersons cannot meaningfully assess the content of experts’ arguments,
they might be better positioned to assess the delivery of experts’ arguments. For
example, Goldman suggests that laypersons might reasonably treat dialectical
superiority—understood as effectiveness in responding to opponents’ arguments—
as an indicator of relative expertise (2001: 95). Notably, effectiveness in
responding here cannot be understood to require responding with sound
arguments, as the layperson is not positioned to evaluate this property of arguments.
According to Goldman, dialectical superiority is only a non-conclusive indicator
of relative expertise. Unfortunately, even this diagnosis may be too optimistic. First,
it is only rarely that laypersons have the opportunity to assess the relative dialectical
skills of supposed experts, at least if such skills are interpreted narrowly as
manifesting in debate contexts. Such debates occur relatively infrequently, in part
for reasons discussed below. What is more, in debate contexts, dialectical
superiority is often arguably an indicator that one’s arguments are unsound. To
see this, imagine a debate between a representative of the flat Earth conspiracy
theory and a representative of the scientific orthodoxy. For the flat Earther,
preparation for such a debate is a relatively easy matter. There are a limited
number of widely-cited scientific grounds for accepting that the Earth is roughly
spherical. The flat Earther need not develop sound counterarguments to these—
only arguments that will likely appear plausible to laypersons. In contrast, the
orthodox scientist’s job is much more difficult. Because there is no sound basis on
which the flatness of the Earth might be defended, the flat Earther can only rely on
unsound arguments. There is virtually no limit to the number of unsound
arguments that might be offered in favor of the flat Earth view. Admittedly, as an
anonymous referee has helpfully pointed out, proponents of the flat Earth theory
and other conspiracy theories tend to have favored arguments for their views. It
might thus be thought that dialectical superiority can be demonstrated by
preparing responses to such widely-cited arguments. The challenge for this
approach, however, is that any such response is likely to be met by some further
(likely ad-hoc) rejoinder that need not be constrained by the facts and thus for
which it will be difficult to prepare. The orthodox scientist is thus likely to be
surprised by certain arguments and may struggle to address these in a timely
manner. Thus, while we might hope that legitimate experts would outperform
pretenders in the context of debate, there is reason to expect that, even and
perhaps especially when the pretender represents an especially absurd view, he or
she will have the upper hand.
One might also hope to assess relative expertise by consideration of dialectical
skills in a broader sense, where these may be manifested outside of the context of structured debate. For example, one might think that exchanges between putative
experts on social media or in blogs afford the opportunity to compare the ease
and comprehensiveness with which the parties address the arguments put forward
by their counterparts. One challenge for this suggestion is that, in contrast to
watching a single debate, following the twists and turns in such a dialectic will
require significant investment on the part of laypersons. Another is that, in such
contexts, generating fake displays of dialectical skills that nonetheless impress
laypersons will be relatively easy. Inauthentic experts may generate what they
present as decisive refutations of their opponents’ positions, and indeed might use
large language models and other external resources to generate what appear to be
credible arguments. By hypothesis, laypersons cannot assess the quality of these
arguments directly and so, without access to information about the ways in which
parties to a dialectic achieve dialectical superiority—or some counterfeit form of
this—laypersons will likely be led astray.
Consider next some social strategies by which Goldman suggests expertise might
be assessed. The first is by directly assessing the degree of putative expert support for
various positions. Other things being equal, concurrence with the judgments of other
putative experts speaks in favor of a given person’s claim to expertise, and to the
reliability of that person’s claims. Second, one might consider credentials—
including degrees, awards, publication histories, and professional roles—as a
measure of others’ attitudes toward a given supposed expert. Roughly,
achievement of various credentials indicates others’ confidence in a given person’s
claims to expertise.
The effectiveness of these social strategies will depend on various factors. First,
appeal to further putative expert judgments will be sound only insofar as those
putative experts are themselves reliable. Moreover, as Goldman notes, a lack of
independence among putative experts significantly reduces the added value of the
appeal to numbers. Additionally, there are good reasons to doubt the reliability
of some credentials as indicators of expertise. As Neil Levy (2022a: chap. 5)
emphasizes, there exist a broad range of phony credentialing institutions that
effectively compromise the significance of credentials. While experts themselves
may be able to reliably distinguish between legitimate and illegitimate
credentialing institutions, laypersons will likely find this far more challenging.
A further strategy suggested by Goldman is to consider putative experts’ likely
interests and biases. Other things being equal, the judgments of a putative expert
whose interests align with the advancement of a claim carry less weight than those
of a putative expert with little or no interest in the matter. Likewise, indications of
bias on the part of putative experts indicate that their judgments should be given
restricted significance. The strategy of assessing putative expert interests and biases
has the advantage of being relatively tractable for non-experts. For example,
whereas climate data and arguments based on such data are likely to be obscure
from the perspective of the layperson, the motivation that those with connections
to the fossil fuel industry have for pushing climate change denialism is easy to grasp. Nonetheless, this strategy is complicated by the existence of conspiracy
theories that distort lay perceptions of the interests of putative authorities. For
example, critics of the expert consensus can and do claim that proponents of the
consensus are driven by perverse financial incentives.
The final strategy Goldman suggests is to consider the track records of putative
experts. As Goldman notes, laypersons are often positioned to assess the accuracy
of claims in given expert domains in the long run, even if they are not positioned
to assess those claims when they are initially made. This is especially true when
those claims take the form of predictions, the bases for which may be obscure, but
the (non)realizations of which are readily observable.
The effectiveness of this latter strategy is heavily domain-dependent. Whereas
those in the business of short-term predictions—meteorologists, for example—can
quickly prove themselves through the success of their predictions, other domains
afford considerably fewer opportunities for predictions assessable by laypersons.
Some domains—history being a case in point—may simply admit of fewer
predictions. Others, like climate science, often make predictions that are highly
complex, assessable only in the long term, or some combination of these. Thus,
the track records of certain experts may be difficult or impossible to assess from
the lay perspective.
David Matheson (2005) builds on Goldman’s discussion of dialectical superiority
with two further considerations accessible to laypersons. One such consideration is
the ability of putative experts to “manage evidence”—that is, to:
[R]elate distinct pieces of ostensive evidence both to each other and to
the question concerning which they are relevant; or, alternatively, an
ability to see how the various pieces of ostensive evidence in one’s
possession fit together into one coherent whole, relevant to the
question at hand. (D. Matheson 2005: 154)
This ability, which we might call explanatory superiority, reflects an underlying
understanding of the relevant subject matter and the connections between various
pieces of evidence pertaining to the issue.
One concern for the appeal to explanatory superiority is that some putative
experts may exploit spurious connections to create the false appearance of strong
evidence management. Consider, for example, the conspiracy theorist that weaves
together a grand but highly misleading narrative to account for the available
evidence and its significance. Notably, epistemologists studying conspiracy
theories have drawn attention to the prominent role that errant data—data either
unexplained by or conflicting with official accounts—play in conspiracy theories
(Keeley 1999). In short, conspiracy theorists often draw attention to small
anomalies to challenge official accounts and to support alternatives. For example,
those promoting the conspiracy theory that the moon landing was a hoax point to
the fact that, in the famous photo depicting the American flag on the surface
of the moon, the flag appears to flutter despite the absence of wind on the surface
of the moon. More generally, conspiracy theories often involve connecting the
dots—that is, drawing connections between unrelated facts and events—a point reflected in the tendency of conspiracy theorists to locate illusory patterns in noise
(van Prooijen, Douglas, and De Inocencio 2018). The risk, then, is that appeals to
explanatory superiority—or, more accurately, what is perceived by laypersons to
be explanatory superiority—may systematically favor conspiracy theorists over
their rivals.
Let us turn to a final strategy, also suggested by Matheson (2005). Matheson
suggests that laypersons may assess the reliability of putative experts by, in part,
attending to their willingness to seriously consider opposing positions and
recalcitrant evidence and to own up to past mistakes. Roughly, then, Matheson
suggests that laypersons ought to attend to the open-mindedness and humility of
putative experts in order to facilitate judgments of reliability. Matheson speaks of
this suggestion in terms of evaluations of the moral superiority of putative experts.
Because open-mindedness and humility have been extensively discussed as
intellectual virtues, I will discuss this strategy in terms of intellectual virtue
superiority.
This final suggestion from Matheson has some immediate appeal. First, it is
plausible that laypersons can and do attend to displays of intellectual character,
and sometimes treat these as indicators of reliability. Second, the strategy appears
sound on its face. If putative experts are not willing to seriously engage with
alternatives, it seems that they would be unlikely to correct false beliefs. Similarly,
if experts do not own up to past mistakes, they are less likely to learn from those
past mistakes. Thus, the intellectual virtues of open-mindedness and humility
would seem to facilitate reliability. Moreover, the possession or lack of such
virtues seems on the face of things to be accessible to laypersons. One need not be
an expert to see that a putative expert is highly dismissive of alternatives or fails to
acknowledge past mistakes. The strategy of considering putative experts’
intellectual virtues thus seems very promising on its face, at least as a supplement
to the other strategies considered above. However, beginning in the next section, I
argue that the attempt to assess expertise by attending to displays of intellectual
virtue is likely to lead laypersons astray. I then argue that this problem is not
easily solved.
To conclude this section, it is worth emphasizing that the strategies discussed,
including attention to intellectual virtue superiority, need not be construed simply
as strategies for making one-to-one comparisons between individual putative
experts. In addition to comparing individuals, these strategies might be used to
make comparisons between communities. For example, a layperson might
assign greater credence to explanations offered by large communities that,
collectively, exhibit dialectical and explanatory superiority relative to rival
communities. Moreover, insofar as collectives can themselves exhibit intellectual
virtues and vices, as discussed by Miranda Fricker (2010), Alessandra Tanesini
(2023), and myself (Harris 2021), it is possible in principle for laypersons to
assign credibility to collectives according to the intellectual characters of these
communities. More generally, the challenge of identifying experts need not be
construed as a challenge of sorting between individuals, but can also be
understood as the challenge of determining how to assess the relative credibility
of collectives.
2. Intellectual Virtue Signaling
Beginning in this section, I argue that attempts to locate experts by using displays of
intellectual virtue are likely to go awry. The basic concern resembles many of those
raised for the strategies discussed in the previous section. There, I noted that many
techniques for identifying experts can misleadingly suggest the reliability of
non-experts, and indeed of the especially unreliable, while calling into doubt the
reliability of legitimate experts. For example, dialectical superiority may favor
those that are not constrained by the truth. Similarly, attending to displays of
intellectual virtue as signs of expertise is likely to lead laypersons astray. This is
for two interconnected reasons.
The first and more basic concern is that unreliable persons often put on
ostentatious displays of what appear to be, but need not actually be, intellectual
virtues. Levy (2023) has coined the term intellectual virtue signaling to capture
this practice. Levy understands intellectual virtue signaling as an analog of moral
virtue signaling, which is defined as “moral talk ostensibly about some state of
affairs or action that is designed in part to draw attention to the person doing the
signaling” (Levy 2023: 312). In short, moral virtue signalers aim not—or not
exclusively—to do good, but to seem good. Likewise, intellectual virtue signalers
may or may not actually possess intellectual virtues but aim at least in part to
seem as if they do.
It may be objected that this definition is excessively
broad, as being partly
motivated to seem good is extremely common and thus the present definition
would overdiagnose instances of behavior as virtue signaling (cf. Tosi and
Warmke 2020: 20). In their work on moral virtue signaling—moral
grandstanding, in their terminology—Justin Tosi and Brandon Warmke (2020)
offer a useful test meant to indicate more clearly when an act involves moral
grandstanding. On their view, an act counts as a case of moral grandstanding only
if the actor would be disappointed to learn that the audience was not impressed
by the moral qualities displayed by the act (Hill and Fanciullo 2023: 4; Tosi and
Warmke 2020: 19). I have some reservations about using proneness to
disappointment as a measure of the strength of one’s desires. When one enters a
lottery, one may very strongly desire to win, even though one will not be
disappointed if one does not win. This is because, while one wants to win, one
expects not to win. More generally, disappointment seems to depend on both the
strength of one’s desires and on one’s expectations. Still, I think Tosi and
Warmke’s test offers at least a good heuristic for distinguishing between cases that
do and do not involve virtue signaling. If one finds Tosi and Warmke’s test
inadequate, alternative ways of distinguishing between moral grandstanding (or
virtue signaling) and cases in which one is merely partly motivated by concerns
about one’s reputation, without thereby virtue signaling, are available. Evan Westra (2021), for example, writes that virtue signaling occurs just when one’s
motivation to contribute to public moral discourse is only secondary to one’s
desire for recognition. We might understand this to mean that, if the agent’s
motivations were at odds then, other things being equal, the desire for recognition
would win out. This would be a relatively strong condition on virtue signaling.
Alternatively, one might say that an act amounts to virtue signaling if one’s desire
for recognition is a difference-maker, in the sense that one would not have
performed the act if one lacked the desire for recognition. Because my aim here is
not to analyze virtue signaling, I will remain neutral between these approaches.
Catharine Saint-Croix (forthcoming) discusses intellectual virtue signaling in
terms of epistemic virtue signaling. As Saint-Croix emphasizes, intellectual virtue
signaling may, but need not, consist in an attempt to display a particular virtue. In
some cases, one might aim to present oneself as having a particular intellectual
virtue. For example, one might boast of one’s consumption of newspapers
representing a range of ideological perspectives as a way of signaling one’s
open-mindedness. However, intellectual virtue signaling might also consist in
attempts to convey a general impression of intellectual superiority, independent of
any particular intellectual virtue. Consider, for example, the smug use of the
phrase “I don’t own a television.” Because I am concerned here with the prospects
of using displays of specific intellectual virtue as indicators of reliability, I focus on
cases in which individuals or collectives aim to present themselves as having
specific intellectual virtues.
With this point in mind, let us consider how the above approaches might be
applied to derive different accounts of intellectual virtue signaling in particular.
On one possible view, one engages in virtue signaling only if one does so with a
desire to be recognized as possessing intellectual virtue that is sufficiently strong
that one will be disappointed if this desire is not satisfied. As the discussion above
anticipates, this approach is complicated by the fact that proneness to
disappointment plausibly depends on both the strength of desire and one’s
expectations. One might strongly hope to impress an audience with one’s display
of intellectual virtue but, because one anticipates a tough crowd, not expect to
impress the audience in this way. In such a case, it seems plausible that one might
be engaging in intellectual virtue signaling even though one would not be
disappointed by failure to achieve recognition as intellectually virtuous. On an
alternative approach, one’s desire to be recognized as intellectually virtuous must
be stronger than the other motivating desires behind one’s actions. For example,
if one posts a long social media thread about a foreign conflict and is motivated in
part by the desire to inform one’s followers, but desires even more strongly to be
recognized as intellectually virtuous by those followers, then, on this second
approach, one engages in intellectual virtue signaling. Finally, to illustrate the
third approach, we might imagine some individual who has some motivation to
inform her followers by way of a social media thread, but whose desire to do so is
not sufficiently strong, by itself, to bring her to do so. On the third approach, her posting of the threat will constitute intellectual virtue signaling if she posts it only
because her desire to inform is supplemented by a desire for recognition as an
intellectually virtuous person—that is, if her latter desire is a difference-maker
with respect to whether she performs the action in question.
My aim here is not to defend any particular account of virtue signaling, and is
instead to argue that the practice of virtue signaling complicates one proposed
strategy for identifying experts. Thus, I will not attempt a decisive argument for
any of these approaches here. However, it is worth noting that, with the aim of
assessing the effects of intellectual virtue signaling in mind, there is some reason to
favor a relatively demanding account of the desire for recognition. If we suppose
that acts may constitute intellectual virtue signaling in virtue of just any attendant
desire for recognition as intellectually virtuous, then intellectual virtue signaling is
rampant—indeed I confess that I might be engaging in some right now (cf. Levy
2023, 320–21)! Thus, it may be preferable to favor a relatively demanding desire
for recognition condition so that the resultant definition better accords with
instances that would be recognizable as intellectual virtue signaling. In any case, I
will focus below on cases in which the desire for recognition as virtuous is
especially strong. The thesis of this article might thus be framed in terms of the
effects of intellectual virtue signaling, or a particularly egregious subclass of it,
depending on one’s favored approach to the desire for recognition condition.
Levy’s core example of intellectual virtue signaling is the practice, familiar on
social media, of non-experts offering lengthy and typically heterodox takes on a
wide variety of hot topics. Thus, for example, the same person might offer what
seem to be nuanced and skeptical takes on events ranging from domestic
economic matters, foreign wars, and global pandemics. In so doing, that person
puts on a display of apparent intelligence, intellectual courage, and autonomy
(Levy 2023, 316). Insofar as this display is effective, the intellectual virtue signaler
is likely to draw attention away from legitimate experts, to cause confusion about
who possesses legitimate expertise, and, in this way, to generate broader confusion
about the truth (Levy 2023, 320). As Levy emphasizes, the latter problem arises in
part because the intellectual virtue signaler is incentivized to offer heterodox
judgments as a means of maximizing the attention they receive. Especially on
social media, one’s takes must be hot to garner attention. Here, I focus on how
intellectual virtue signaling can complicate the process of identifying experts
according to the strategy Matheson (2005) suggests, and the extent to which this
challenge can be solved.
Levy focuses on the signaling of intelligence, courage, and autonomy. Let us turn
to a further virtue that has received considerable philosophical attention in recent
years (Battaly 2018b; 2018a): the virtue of open-mindedness (Bland 2022; Levy
2022b; Riggs 2010). As a first pass, to be open-minded is to be willing to take
seriously alternatives to one’s own views. As we will see below, this initial gloss on
open-mindedness is overly simple, but it will suffice for now. I focus here on
open-mindedness because the exploitative signaling of this virtue appears to be
particularly prevalent. Thus, for example, it is commonplace for conspiracy
theorists to signal their possession of this virtue by refusing to take for granted
official accounts of events, by attending to a broad range of possibilities, by challenging representatives of the orthodoxy to debates, and so on. Thus, for
example, while many would refuse to take seriously the possibility that the
September 11 attacks were a false flag, conspiracy theorists proclaiming a
commitment to open-mindedness might well treat this possibility as worth
investigating.
Notably, while conspiracy theorists outwardly display a commitment to
open-mindedness, it is not clear that these displays are indicative of their actual
practices. For example, some empirical evidence indicates that open-mindedness is
negatively correlated with belief in conspiracy theories (Swami et al. 2014). While
the empirical evidence is far from conclusive, it is at least not obvious that
conspiracy theorists’ commitment to open-mindedness is genuine. This is
especially true of promoters of conspiracy theories—those that broadcast and
often profit from broadcasting conspiracy theories—as opposed to those merely
taken in by them. At a minimum, we might say that displays of open-mindedness
are signals of reliability too easily feigned to be useful in discerning genuine experts.
The same is true of other displays of intellectual virtue, for example the virtue of
intellectual autonomy. On the face of it, intellectual autonomy is the tendency to
think for oneself. Elizabeth Fricker, for example, writes that the intellectually
autonomous person “takes no one else’s word for anything, but accepts only what
she has found out for herself, relying only on her own cognitive faculties and
investigative and inferential powers” (E. Fricker 2006). As with open-mindedness,
this initial gloss on intellectual autonomy is arguably too simple and will be
complicated below. Intellectual autonomy, so construed, is plausibly the chief
virtue of conspiracy theorists, and “think for yourself,” “do your own research,”
and related slogans are regularly repeated by conspiracy theorists (Ballantyne,
Celniker, and Dunning 2022; Buzzell and Rini 2023; Levy 2022c).
Notably, promoters of conspiracy theories do not simply display the virtue of
epistemic autonomy in their own practice. Rather, conspiracy theorists counsel
that others ought to think for themselves. Such advice indicates the absence of an
agenda, and therefore encourages trust in conspiracy theory promoters. As with
open-mindedness, there is little reason to think that conspiracy theorists are
actually more epistemically autonomous than others, or that exhortations to think
for oneself represent a sincere commitment to the promotion of epistemic
autonomy. As to the former point, empirical research indicates that conspiracy
theorists treat others’ judgments as evidence in much the same way that
non-conspiracy theorists do (Altay et al. 2023). As to the latter, the exhortation to
think for oneself is regularly accompanied by the presentation of misleading
evidence favoring foregone conspiratorial conclusions.
Thus far in this section, I have argued that the strategy of identifying experts by
attending to displays of intellectual virtue is easily exploitable by those that fake
displays of intellectual virtue. My core examples have been conspiracy theorists
and, in particular, conspiracy theory promoters. However, the point generalizes to
a range of other non-experts. Proponents of young earth creationism, for example,
regularly challenge orthodox evolutionary biologists to debates—in displays of
apparent open-mindedness. Similarly, promoters of alternative medical practices
often bemoan that their positions are not given a fair hearing alongside those of orthodox medicine and encourage individuals to explore alternative medicine for
themselves.
These examples hint at a second concern for attention to displays of intellectual
virtue as indicators of expertise. In short, legitimate experts often fail to display
intellectual virtues in ways corresponding to displays by their counterparts and,
indeed, often seem to display intellectual vices. Proponents of evolution by natural
selection often refuse to engage with creationists, and even discourage others from
doing so (Etchells 2014). Similarly, many mainstream scientists and other
epistemic authorities refuse to publicly engage with conspiracy theories and their
promoters (Lee 2023), and recommend that others do the same. Indeed, it has
been argued that the failure of experts to engage seriously with apparent evidence
against their views contributes to the creation and spread of conspiracy theories
(Brooks forthcoming). Moreover, legitimate experts often seem to shun epistemic
autonomy, both in themselves and others. If the conspiracist mantra is “think for
yourself” that of many experts is to “trust the science.”
Insofar as a layperson uses displays of apparent intellectual virtue as cues of
reliability, that person is likely to be led systematically astray. This is not only
because non-experts regularly engage in ostentatious displays of apparent
intellectual virtue, but also because legitimate experts often seem to behave
non-virtuously and, indeed, intellectually viciously. In fact, certain practices—for
example conspiracists’ and creationists’ challenging of scientists to debates—serve
simultaneously to signal virtue and to seemingly expose the vices of their
counterparts. It might, however, seem that the problem identified here is easily
solved, at least in part. All it would take is for legitimate experts to more
deliberately display intellectual virtue. They might, for example, go to greater
lengths to engage in debates with representatives of alternative views, thereby
displaying open-mindedness. Similarly, they might display a respect for epistemic
autonomy by eschewing reliance on other putative experts and by encouraging
laypersons to consider, explore and weigh the evidence for themselves. In the next
section, however, I argue that such shifts in practice would often do more harm
than good.
3. The Limits of Virtue
On the face of things, the suggestion that genuine experts can address the problem
described above by displaying greater intellectual virtue seems like win-win.
Greater open-mindedness, humility, and intellectual autonomy on the part of
experts would make such experts easier to identify, while also improving the
quality of their inquiries. Or so one might think. However, this suggestion is
overly optimistic. As I argue in this section, greater displays of intellectual virtue
would either be insincere and counterproductive or would reduce the ability of
experts to provide genuine valuable information.
Suppose, first, that experts merely pretend to be intellectually virtuous—that is, that they inauthentically signal intellectual virtue. One way they might do so is by emulating those non-experts that signal commitment to epistemic autonomy. Experts might, for example, encourage laypersons to do their own research. To facilitate this, experts might release more data without offering their own
interpretations of the data. While such a shift might encourage greater trust in
genuine experts, any such victory would be pyrrhic. Unless experts offer their own
interpretations, increased trust in actual experts would do little to improve the
epistemic situations of laypersons. Moreover, expert exhortations to do one’s own
research would likely do more harm than good. This is because, as a general rule,
“do your own research” is a bad epistemic policy for laypersons to follow
(Huemer 2005). Laypersons are distinguished, in large part, by their lack of
expertise—which is likely to include the inability to reliably interpret relevant data
in expert domains. Admittedly, some laypersons could develop the needed
expertise to reliably interpret data in certain expert domains. However, even in
this case, they would remain non-experts in other domains. Moreover, insofar as
the development of expertise enables former laypersons to reach the same
judgments already reached by experts, this process would involve a redundancy of
expertise.
Suppose, alternatively, that experts work to actually embody the sorts of virtues
described above, including open-mindedness, humility, and epistemic autonomy.
That is, suppose that experts themselves opt to be more open-minded, humbler,
and more epistemically autonomous. A given scientific expert might, for example,
display greater autonomy by refusing to take for granted the findings of other
scientists, and opting instead to, as the conspiracy theorist exhorts, do her own
research. In so doing, the scientist might display her intellectual virtue to
laypersons, thereby showing herself to be reliable. There are at least two severe
problems with this suggestion. The first is practical. A scientist who proposed to
repeat research already conducted by others would struggle to attract funding for
doing so. The latter, and perhaps more serious concern, is that such a scientist
would be unable to get far without relying on the results of others. As
epistemologists have emphasized, we are pervasively epistemically dependent on
others (Hardwig 1985), such that laypersons and experts alike owe much of their
knowledge to others. In the context of science, in particular, a refusal to depend
on others would serve only to stunt the progress of science, as effort would be
wasted on attempts to individually do what has already been done by others.
Consider, next, the virtues of humility and open-mindedness. An expert might
demonstrate a commitment to such virtues by, for example, engaging in debates
with those holding heterodox views, by hearing out proponents of those views,
and by testing a broad range of alternatives. For example, during the COVID-19
pandemic, medical experts might have demonstrated these virtues by debating
proposed alternative treatments, giving their attention to those promoting such
alternatives, and indeed putting proposed alternatives to the test. In so doing, they might have attracted the trust of those that, like some critics of mainstream views
about the pandemic, claimed that proper scientists are willing to question everything.
One problem in this case is that doing such things would be, by and large, a waste
of time. A second problem is that, if experts strive to be genuinely open-minded by,
for example, giving equal hearing to ideas long thought to be non-credible by the
broader community, some are likely to be led astray. At best, they will waste their
time re-learning what they have already learned from others. At worst, they will
themselves form mistaken judgments. The broader problem is that there is little
reason to expect that the qualities that laypersons think promote good science
actually do so. The traits that would make one a trusted science communicator are
not necessarily the same traits that would make one a good scientist. Because
scientific progress depends in large part on the division of labor, scientific success
is often promoted by dependency, closed-mindedness, arrogance, and other traits
that, while perhaps damaging at the individual level, promote the exploration and
thorough consideration of a broad but limited range of reasonable alternatives at
the collective level. The preceding point resembles in broad strokes the point,
made by a variety of authors (Hull 1997; Kitcher 1995; Smart 2018), that
successful science does not depend on individual scientists being motivated to
contribute to the development of collective knowledge. Instead, as has been said
of markets, some suggest that the structure of science harnesses private vice into
collective benefits—in this case shared knowledge. Rather than focusing broadly
on the relation between the motives of scientists and the success of science, I focus
here instead on how the lack of specific virtues among individuals and collectives
may serve the collective epistemic good among practitioners in expert domains.
It may be objected that the apparent tension between epistemic virtue on the part
of experts and collective success within expert domains that I have emphasized here is
contingent on an overly general and perhaps naïve conception of epistemic virtue.
For example, one might say that open-mindedness is not, as I have defined it
above, best captured simply in terms of a willingness to take seriously alternatives
to one’s views. The open-minded person need not take seriously just any
preposterous view that happens to come to his or her attention. Rather, the
open-minded person need only be open to a relatively narrow set of possibilities
that meet some threshold of plausibility. Similarly, one might say that the virtue of
autonomy does not require its possessor to eschew reliance on others. Instead, one
might say, the virtue of intellectual autonomy is consistent with reliance on others,
so long as that reliance is reflective of one’s own good judgments as to who to rely
upon, and how and when to rely upon them (J. Matheson 2021, 182–83).
Alternatively, one might say that the mistake is to think of epistemic autonomy as
a virtue at all, at least when this virtue is not regulated by the additional virtue of
epistemic interdependence (Battaly 2021).
These alternatives raise interesting questions as to what makes a virtue a virtue.
Perhaps, one might say, the cases highlighted here suggest that whether a given
trait constitutes a virtue is dependent on its effects. This view, which is endorsed by some virtue responsibilists (Zagzebski 1996, pt. II), would account for why there
are limits to the alternatives that an open-minded person would countenance. It
would also account for why autonomy—if understood to involve non-reliance on
others—is no virtue.
I do not aim to determine here whether this approach to the epistemic virtues is to
be preferred to a simpler one. Instead, what I want to highlight here is that—even if
epistemic virtues are best construed along the relatively complex lines suggested here
—there is little reason to expect ordinary members of the public to have such a
sophisticated account of the virtues. What individuals do to signal their own
intellectual virtue, and what acts individuals interpret as indicative of intellectual
virtue, will depend on the norms operative in their specific social epistemic
contexts (cf. Saint-Croix forthcoming). Suppose, for example, that one puts on a
display of not believing anything based on the word of others. Even if this is not a
genuine indicator of epistemic autonomy, and indeed even if intellectual
autonomy is not a virtue at all, such an act might be undertaken in the hopes of
indicating one’s intellectual virtues, and might be interpreted by others as doing
so. Thus, even if we suppose that deference to those who actually possess
intellectual virtues would be a reliable belief-forming strategy, mistaken
conceptions of what the intellectual virtues involve, and indeed what the virtues
are, will likely lead laypersons to trust those who lack genuine intellectual virtues.
By a similar token, misunderstandings about intellectual virtue may lead
laypersons to distrust those who exhibit genuine intellectual virtues. Even if there
is in fact no tension between virtue on the part of experts and success in expert
domains, individuals untutored in virtue epistemology are likely to perceive such a
tension.
Let us illustrate the preceding points with an example. Given the assumption that
members of the public treat displays of apparent virtue and vice as a basis on which
to apportion trust, the mere appearance of such a tension is sufficient to result in
misallocations of trust. If the conspiracist podcaster displays traits that ordinary
persons perceive to be illustrative of virtue, while the legitimate expert displays
traits that ordinary persons perceive to be illustrative of vice, then, even if these
perceptions rest on a misunderstanding of the epistemic virtues, the public will
place too much trust in the podcaster and too little trust in the legitimate expert.
More generally, when laypersons use intellectual virtue as a marker of expertise,
the best they can do is identify those that seem, from the lay perspective, to be
virtuous. As I have argued, the attempt to identify legitimate experts using such
cues is likely to lead laypersons astray.
4. Concluding Remarks
Laypersons cannot be expected to competently form judgments about matters in
expert domains without guidance by legitimate experts. Thus, laypersons require
strategies for identifying legitimate experts. Any such strategy must be both
reliable and accessible for individuals lacking in domain knowledge. On the face of things, the identification of legitimate experts through assessment of cognitive
character seems like a promising strategy insofar as it is both feasible and
continuous with familiar practices of character assessment. However, as I have
argued here, such a strategy is likely to go systematically awry—as displays of
apparent intellectual virtue are not reliably correlated with—and may indeed be
negatively correlated with—actual expertise. One might, on this basis, draw one
of at least two different conclusions.
The first, perhaps more pessimistic conclusion, is that attention to displays of
intellectual virtue is, at best, useless as a strategy for identifying legitimate
experts. One tempted by this conclusion might argue that laypersons would be
better served by learning about how, for example, the structure of science can
allow science to succeed in spite of, and indeed perhaps because of, the vices
of scientists. In this way, laypersons might be brought to trust a consensus
reached by scientists, even if they do not regard individual scientists as worthy
of trust.
A more optimistic conclusion is that, if the identification of experts through
attention to the virtues and vices of putative experts is to succeed, it will
require laypersons to adopt a more sophisticated approach to the virtues along
the lines of the one sketched in section three. Laypersons must learn, perhaps
by being taught, that pretenders to expertise sometimes look fair, while feeling
foul. While ambitious, it is perhaps not unrealistic that laypersons might learn
this lesson. Certain outward displays look like signs of friendliness, but most
of us have learned that such displays do not reliably indicate the good
character of used car salesmen and the like. Likewise, laypersons might learn
that ostentatious displays of willingness to debate, to consider alternatives, to
take nothing for granted, to think for oneself, and so on, need not indicate the
possession of epistemic intellectual virtues, properly understood. Through the
development of more sophisticated understandings of the intellectual virtues
and their indicators, the viability of this strategy for identifying experts might
be increased.
These conclusions need not be regarded as entirely incompatible alternatives.
Given that even experts are fallible and otherwise flawed, reliance on the collective
and institutional virtues of expert domains is often a surer strategy than trust in
particular individuals. At the same time, given our social natures, it would likely
be unrealistic to expect laypersons to eschew relations of personalized trust
toward putative experts altogether. Consequently, the best path forward for
laypersons searching for truth in expert domains is likely a combination of
defeasible trust in persons that display genuine intellectual virtues, and reliance on
the collective and institutional virtues of expert domains to constrain and harness
the negative inclinations of individuals.
KEITH RAYMOND HARRIS
UNIVERSITY OF VIENNA
keithraymondharris@gmail.com
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