How to Be Perfect does not address every person equally. It speaks most clearly to educated, well-off people: people who recognize their status and want to use their position to improve what they can rather than to serve oneself. This educated class also wants to know how to talk about the Trolley Problem or existentialism intelligently with their friends. The book can help satisfy both of these desires: to know which is the responsible action in a tricky situation and to have a working understanding of classic philosophical strains and thought experiments.
I know of Michael Schur as co-creator of Parks and Recreation, a rare TV show I have watched and enjoyed (minus season 1). After that show concluded, Schur created The Good Place, a show I have not watched that is imbued with concepts from moral philosophy (each character, it seems, embodies a different philosophical strain). After his research for The Good Place, Schur switched from writing 30-minute TV comedy to a debut book. In How to Be Perfect, Schur combines his penchant for comedy with discussion of some of the world’s most thorny questions, like “We’ve done some good deeds… so can we take three of these free cheese samples from the free cheese sample plate at the supermarket even though it clearly says ‘one per customer?’”
In moral philosophy, a field filled with dense, impenetrable prose, the great thing about Schur’s non-academic background is that his writing is funny, approachable (not a word I have ever associated with philosophy), and relatable. One particularly smart structural element of the book is that Schur introduces each chapter with a question (like the above), and the questions increase in complexity throughout. Thus, the reader is enticed by the prospect of increasingly hairy – and fun – topics. The simpler material from earlier in the book provides the substance for the nuanced later chapters. Schur shies not away from controversial topics, devoting a chapter to the ethical tangle of cancel culture, another to effective altruism, and another to charitable giving. This is not a book of only theory and hypothetical.
Why read a philosophy book by a non-philosopher? In creating The Good Place, Schur “spent a lot of time learning about this stuff and discussing it with some very smart and funny people.” Before putting a show and a book out into the world to be digested by millions, Schur wanted to know what he was talking about, so he consulted with philosophy professor Todd May, who makes several direct and theoretical contributions (along with a number of other living philsophers and experts). Schur spent years reading on this subject, and he is honest about what works he struggled to – or could not – understand.
How to Be Perfect both summarizes and persuades. Summary really is a tremendous service to the reader. Rather than feeling the weight of a dozen seminal works that I must read in order to be conversant in moral philosophy, Schur’s summary feels sufficient to explain the tenets of the traditional philosphical strains. Schur summarizes Aristotle’s virtue ethics, John Stuart Mill’s utilitarianism, Emmanuel Kant’s deontology, Tim Scanlon’s contractualism, William James’s pragmatism, and Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus’s existentialism – each of these generally receives the focus of one chapter. He also includes a lesser amount of non-traditional ethical systems and voices throughout, like South African Ubuntu, John S Mbiti, Susan Wolfe, Judith Jarvis Thompson, Shelley Kagan, Peter Singer, and Thich Nhat Hanh. After a taste of these non-canonized thinkers, I would love to read more of each of them. There are, of course, a host of other great philsophers not included at all. Schur encourages the reader to read them if they so desire and discover which ideas help us figure out how to live good lives. He notes that he included authors whose frameworks he found instructive. We are welcome to adopt some of his or find our own.
A major and acknowledged omission to the book: religious thinkers and philosophy. I agree that including religious moral philosophy would make How to Be Perfect unwieldy and bloated, but any discussion of moral philsophy is still incomplete without considering the systems inherent to Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Native religions, or minor religions. I would argue most people on Earth are more likely to make decisions based on a religious framework than on any academic philsophical system (so obtusely) presented by any of the above philosophers. Excluding religion confines the discussion to a more lofty academic space.
How to Be Perfect not just summarizes but also persuades. Like all philosophy, it offers a perspective on the right approach to life and tries to persuade the reader of this perspective. Our approach to life is a big deal. It can be thought of as a lens through which to view the world. Schur’s lens is particularly broad and flexible, incorporating the perspectives from all of the various systems listed above rather than emphasizing a particular one. “I believe,” Schur writes, “that each of these schools of thought has something useful to offer us.” In each question Schur considers, he presents a particular answer as, to him, correct. Not all might agree, but that is no flaw of the book. It presents an opportunity for the reader to consider whether or not they agree and why.
Schur repeatedly rips utilitarianism, the idea that we should take actions to create the greatest good for the greatest number of people, with examples like the Trolley Problem, the Happiness Pump, and a host of other scenarios posed by philosophers. He carved out exceptions to this disdain for resource distribution and charitable giving. I found this immensely refreshing, as I think utilitarianism is too popular in modern American society and certainly in the thinking of my college student friends and peers. Though it sounds good in theory, utilitarianism functions poorly in practice because it is too easily taken to extremes, it robs us of human dignity, and it often conflicts with our internal moral compass.
Schur instead advocates for balancing virtues and vices. That utilitarianism is bad philosophy is the subject of an article I plan to write, and Schur’s deep research challenged and guided this pursuit. So, if you are wondering what is problematic about a philosophy that advocates for doing the most good for the greatest number of people, or if you take objection to my cursory three-point dismissal above, definitely read How to Be Perfect. Many of the world’s most rich and powerful have recently been promoting effective altruism, an extremely utilitarian theory, and therefore would disagree with Schur.
I agree with much of Schur’s conclusions. It’s hard to argue with the big, flexible lens approach. It is more realistic and rational and less absolute and uncompromising than any one of the philosophies are when taken individually. It is balanced and emphasizes our big cool brains that adapt to circumstance. That said, I would not give existentialism as much credit as he does.
In later chapters, the voices of other philosophers grow sparser and Schur’s own voice increases. He shares more of his own moral quandaries and personal analysis of them. He, for example, questions why he always would leave a tip when the barista was looking. Or whether he shamed someone for the right reasons. Or other cases of “being super lame.” Schur does not strike me as a Hollywood socialite climbing the ladder. I think he truly cares about using his position to be a good person and encouraging others to do so, else he doesn’t write this book. He invites self-critique and frequently acknowledges how his uniquely privileged position affects his words and responsibility. Nonetheless, Schur comes from a deeply liberal social class. No doubt, politically conservative people would be turned off by the instances where he slams Republican politicians or takes liberal social ideas to be self explanatory.
I think politics inherently assumes ethical systems, and these cannot be disentangled. those some might have a difficult time getting past the liberal politics, I think Schur truly is an insightful philosopher to everyone. His subject is relevant to all, regardless of one’s political leanings. Though his oft-repeated intended contribution to the field, the term ‘moral exhaustion,’ did not feel particularly insightful – it’s basically the idea that it is tiring to consistently be a good person – he made two beautiful points at the end. These points broached topics that are far too infrequently considered in moral philosophy circles and political discussions.
Most philosophies, Schur argues, neglect the importance of context. Should different expectations apply to those wealthy and powerful individuals and those barely scraping by? No, say the traditional philosophies. Everyone is held to the same standard. Yes, says Schur. “Not everyone can apply the same amount of precious resources to the development of virtue,” which means that one’s lack of virtue may actually reflect a lack of opportunity. Again, for the predominantly wealthy, educated class Schur speaks to, we ought to be held to a high standard. Note this is one example of an ethical argument that many would consider indistinguishable from a socially liberal political argument.
it should not be controversial though, that we must each honestly consider our own circumstances and do our best given these circumstances. We all have a serious responsibility to others that scales with our resources. Schur’s personal analysis of his luckiness and obligation to others provides a humanity lacking in much of the cold rationality of moral philosophy.
Another humanizing contribution: a chapter on the need to apologize. Schur repeatedly acknowledges our inevitable failure. “Being good is impossible and why do we even try?” he asks. Because we have no alternative. We either try and fail or consign ourselves to failure. When we fail, we ought to apologize, and Schur describes the anatomy of a proper apology. He lambasts a certain Rebublicanpolitician’s sham apology as an example of how not to apologize. I would add that terrible apologies are not a uniquely Republican pitfall.
In the iterative process of becoming better people, it helps, Schur writes, to ask four key questions: “What are we doing? Why are we doing it? Is there something that we can do that’s better? Why is it better?” Over the course of a lifetime, if we reflect on these, we will make steady progress. I am heartened by the idea that when I am 30 or 50 or 70, I will see my current behavior as immature in light of my future wisdom. I will find different philosophical arguments relevant. So everyone, immature or wise, young or old, can find a nuggest of wisdom in How to Be Perfect.
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