Michael Oakeshott once described civil society as a group of porcupines huddling together close enough to stay warm, but far enough apart not to poke each other. We seem to live in a world where we have neither the warmth, nor the separation, nor the thickness of skin to withstand the inevitable barbs that come with living together. A civil society is indeed a particular kind of animal presupposing conceptual and practical bonds. Civil society is not an extended family. It is not a tribe or a religious society. Its bonds are those of the civitas—life rooted in a common sense of citizenship, understood both juridically and morally, and exercised in practical affairs. Our society is civil to the extent that we treat each other civilly, with the respect that presupposes and enacts participation in a common legal, material, and moral life.

In The Soul of Civility, Alexandra Hudson has given us both a theoretical and a practical guide to living together more civilly. Hudson tells us that the book has its genesis in her own experience of incivility working in government in Washington, DC. The stabbing incivility she experienced was less partisan-political than it was office-political—co-workers pretending to be kind as a smokescreen for self-aggrandizement and subterfuge. And so Hudson begins by shrewdly distinguishing between civility and politeness. Politeness relies on the form or rules of behavior; civility on the motivation and substance in relation to a notion of the good. 

Early in the book, Hudson lays out an anchoring framework: a) do we treat others as persons or things? b) do we temper the formal social rules with the informal norms that bend toward justice? and c) are our motivations morally grounded? This distinction between politeness and civility matters. Civility is not simply an agreement to disagree, but a willingness to live and work together because we understand where and why we disagree and are willing to talk frankly about our beliefs. Politeness is a transactional modality that tends to paper over differences; civility is a moral disposition that acknowledges differences not as a contest but in a spirit of mutual learning. Civility demands that we speak the truth as we see it, while simultaneously recognizing that our interlocutor may be right, that we have something to learn or understand more deeply, and that our interlocutor is a human being worthy of respect.

Hudson divides The Soul of Civility into three parts. In Part 1, “An Enduring Dilemma,” she lays out her vision of human nature as a struggle for conventions of self-mastery as we naturally try to master others. Hudson’s anthropology is explicitly Augustinian—we are motivated by a desire to dominate others, to treat things and people as a means to our own ends rather than an end in themselves. Our challenge, both individually and socially, is to discern how to align our selfish interests with the interests of others. 

Hudson’s intellectual and moral anchors are broadly scriptural and theological, paired with the various classical and Enlightenment traditions of virtue ethics mixed with strains of classical liberalism. Rather than exploring the tensions among these schools of thought, Hudson harvests their common fruit to illustrate how civility helps us see that what is good for others may also be beneficial for ourselves. In surveying literally thousands of years of literature, Hudson is keen to note that while her roots are primarily in the Western tradition, civic virtues are part of the human tradition. In addition to familiar figures (Aristotle, Montesquieu, Confucius), Hudson highlights perhaps the less commonplace contributions of Gilgamesh and The Teachings of Ptahhotep, as well as Giovanni della Casa and Ibn Khaldun, among many others. Hudson’s survey of ancient and modern civility literature is one of the more valuable elements of the book, illustrating not so much a “timeless solution” to a “timeless problem” as recognizing a fundamental human predicament—how may my love of self be extended to include the love of others?

In Parts II (“Why Civility?) and III (“Civility in Practice”), Hudson draws upon her broad familiarity with primary texts to explore civility in both theory and practice. Sidebar quotations often interrupt the page, which I found a bit distracting, though individually extremely valuable. (They are neither block quotes nor pull quotes but function almost like a commonplace book.) Hudson puts historical texts and examples from popular culture in conversation with each other—almost as mirrors to each other—to emphasize the need both to understand and to practice civility. Additionally, Hudson closes each chapter with a list of useful suggestions—a precis, informed by the chapter’s texts and examples, of how we might manage ourselves and our environments to be more civil to others. 

Writing about civility is not an easy task, for civility as a disposition recognizes the messy gray areas of human sociability. Part philosophy and intellectual history, part social criticism and moral advice, Hudson’s book weaves and wanders across a vast landscape. Her approach is thematic, almost a kaleidoscope of textual references, impressions, anecdotes, cultural criticism, and moral guidance shifting and swirling alongside each other. The composite and individual elements are full of wisdom. I will conclude by mentioning a few highlights.

In the chapter on integrity, Hudson distinguishes between integrity and authenticity. If authenticity means transparency about one’s feelings, our fleeting and fluid impulses may damage deeper and more lasting relationships. “Integrity sometimes means not acting on the basis of our inner feelings,” writes Hudson, because we recognize that friendship, for example, is a higher and more lasting good. Integrity calls us to act on our higher, inner values “even when we do not feel like doing so.” Correspondingly, while integrity may be “inauthentic,” it is not hypocritical. “Hypocrisy is problematic because we betray our moral commitments in order to serve ourselves.” Whereas authenticity is oriented toward feelings, integrity takes as its reference point an ordering of values. That is, we trade off one value (e.g., transparency) in the interest of another, higher value (e.g., love). We may be silent, or we may speak out, not because of how we feel but because of what we value. And what we value has its full currency in others and how we value them. 

The chapter on freedom, democracy, and human flourishing emphasizes how civility reinforces horizontal rather than vertical relationships. Hudson’s mood is decidedly Burkean and Tocquevillian: the less we regulate our own impulses and appetites, the more likely it is that an external, despotic power will try to do so for us. “In short,” she writes, “civility is the social contract that supports the social contract. Without it, our free way of life will cease to exist.” Civility, however, is not mere complacency or complicity. Hudson devotes a chapter to civil disobedience as a form of civility—the moral imperative to speak truth to power. Relying on Socrates, Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr., Hudson surveys the ways in which unjust “civility” needs to be challenged by non-violent “incivility.” Though “civilization” has been used to bolster oppression, Hudson stresses how civility rightly understood reinforces moral and legal equality. 

Freedom, dignity, and equality are often challenged by technological innovation, which has also exacerbated polarization and intolerance. In exploring citizenship in a digital age, Hudson provides practical advice on how to “cultivate our digital garden.” She sees the language of civility as a grammar of conduct that encourages us to regard the dignity of the human person amidst cultural forces that tend toward depersonalization and anonymity. 

A later chapter on education stresses the importance of various institutions in fostering civil ecosystems: schools, families, and voluntary associations. Hudson herself has created various online products as her own contribution to those ecosystems, and she describes the contributions of other organizations, among them Braver Angels, Great Hearts Academies, and The Aspen Institute (my own employer). In describing civility in practice, Hudson also articulates the neglected habits of hospitality, forgiveness, and locating meaning beyond work. 

To her credit, Hudson manages to criticize contemporary culture without negativity. She models the kind of generosity of spirit, honest assessment, and humility that one would offer a friend. That is, she writes about civility civilly. Some will find Hudson’s optimism refreshing; others may wonder whether it is naïve. But Hudson’s approach to civility is, as the title suggests, soulful. She enjoins us, in the spirit of Erasmus, to ignore the faults of others while striving not to fall short of ourselves. We experience this spirit of moral excellence in our friendships; Hudson asks that we extend this aspiration, in turn, to civic friendships with those around us. 

What does it mean to practice civility in an uncivil world? Hudson reminds us that civility is not so much a thing as it is a way of going about things. Curiosity, listening, conversation, firm words but not intemperate ones—these are the elements of the creative imaginings that lend themselves to the arts of living well together. Much of our incivility is driven by cynicism—a kind of hatred of the good because it is not perfect. Like Oakeshott’s porcupines, as they draw closer and give each other space, civility is a dynamic process defined by a range of tolerance—the strength of a structure is its capacity to bend without breaking. Joseph Schumpeter once observed that “to realize the relative validity of one’s convictions and yet stand for them unflinchingly is what distinguishes a civilized man from a barbarian.” The Soul of Civility is a call to civil thought and action in support of the moral muscle that allows us both strength and flexibility in navigating our often barbarous political and social terrain.