I heard a story once about a memorial service for a philosopher who died too young of a drinking problem.

Everyone in his department knew about his alcoholism, and they all knew it was killing him. In the end, drinking did him in.

At the memorial service, another philosopher in the department spoke up. He said that each of them had failed their colleague, that all of them could have stepped in to help, but nobody did. And now he was dead by their collective omission, and each person was to blame.

This philosopher drew a lot of heat from his colleagues, in that moment and afterwards in their resentment. But he was right, and nobody could hide from that.

A lot of us know that, in our unguarded moments, too many of us are quick to see ourselves as the smartest in the room, as comfortable in any intellectual setting, quick-witted and brilliant. Not all of us are like this, but too many are.

The sad thing is how this blinds us from commonplace cruelty and cowardice, even before our very eyes, in the halls we walk everyday. You’re smart, you know your moral philosophy, you’ve savored the complexities of dilemmas. Meanwhile, you let your friend die.

So when you’re exposed at your friend’s memorial as a fraud — yeah, you get defensive. But you know the criticism is dead on the mark, or it wouldn’t sting as much.

Genteel silence in the face of institutional rot doesn’t help anybody. It only postpones the inevitable.

Philosophers diagnosing post-truth in the media: heal thyself.