By Winston Vance

David Brooks’ recent Atlantic essay on Alasdair MacIntyre hit me harder than I expected (Brooks). He describes a culture—ours—where people have lost the ability to make even basic moral judgments, where words like justice and duty float unmoored from any shared meaning. Reading it, I didn’t just agree—I felt it. I’ve been in that fog: not knowing what to say, second-guessing what’s right, wanting to reach out and connect but not knowing how. Brooks looks to MacIntyre for clarity, and MacIntyre offers something difficult but honest: without community, virtue doesn’t stand a chance. This isn’t an academic debate. It’s personal. It’s about how we try to live, day to day, in a world that’s lost its grip on the good.

In After Virtue, MacIntyre argues that modern moral language is basically broken (MacIntyre). We throw around words like rights, values, and fairness, but don’t agree on what they mean or where they come from. So when we try to talk about right and wrong, we mostly end up talking past each other. What we’re left with is something called emotivism—the idea that moral claims are really just personal opinions in disguise. Brooks sums it up this way: millions of Americans, no matter their politics, can no longer make basic moral judgments. Not because they don’t care, but because they’re drifting.

That drift shows up everywhere. You feel it when you’re scrolling endlessly, signaling approval, trying to stay in the loop, and still feeling alone. Social media gives us performance, not presence. It teaches us to curate, not connect. And in that environment, it becomes easy to lose the rhythm of real relationships. Our sense of self scatters. Our ability to act courageously or generously erodes.

And then there’s altruism—doing good, caring for others, stepping up for something bigger than yourself. We like to think of it as a personality trait. But MacIntyre would say: no one just has character. Altruism does not come out of nowhere. It is something we build with others, inside communities that value it, model it, and pass it down. Today, we ask individuals to be kind, brave, and generous while stripping away the very ecosystems that make those things possible. Of course it feels hard.

Same with happiness. We are told to chase it like a personal project, through success, self-care, or optimization. But the longest study on happiness ever conducted, the Harvard Study of Adult Development, says the real key is simple: close relationships (Waldinger and Schulz). Not just having people around, but knowing you matter to them. Community is not a peripheral good. It is how we come to know who we are.

Still, it is hard to get back to that. People want connection. They are just out of practice. The structures that used to help, such as rituals, local spaces, clubs, even shared moral frameworks, have faded (Putnam). We find ourselves trying to rebuild community, often while pretending we do not need it. People fear being awkward, or too much, or the only one who feels disconnected (Murthy). But the truth is, need is what makes real connection possible.

MacIntyre ends After Virtue with a striking suggestion. Perhaps what we await is not a savior, but a new kind of community builder, a modern Saint Benedict, someone capable of helping moral life take root again through shared forms of meaning and practice. But perhaps the answer is not one figure at all. Perhaps what we need is one another: people who choose to show up, who make space for others, who are willing to risk discomfort in order to build trust. This kind of presence is not idealistic. It is how moral culture begins to form again—through shared meals, repeated gestures, and the quiet commitment to sustain what matters. This is not retreat. It is repair.

To live well right now means learning how to need and be needed again. To believe in goodness, but not alone.

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Practicing Belonging Through Everyday Action

In a divided world, the restoration of moral and relational life rarely begins with dramatic interventions. It begins with steady, embodied choices that signal care, recognition, and trust. These small efforts do not resolve fragmentation by themselves, but they mark the slow reweaving of the social fabric. This work often takes the form of small, accessible practices:

One such gesture is the act of reaching out without a specific reason. Sending a message to someone we have not spoken to in some time affirms that attention itself can be a form of presence. In a culture where contact is often filtered through productivity or convenience, choosing to reconnect without explanation creates space for sincerity without obligation.

A second gesture involves returning to something consistently. Regular participation in a shared space, whether through a recurring event, a standing invitation, or a shared practice, builds belonging through rhythm rather than intensity. It is not the exceptional moment that builds trust, but the quiet fact of return.

A third gesture is the act of hosting without insisting on readiness or perfection. Welcoming others into an ordinary space, whether it is tidy or not, whether the food is elaborate or simple, signals that presence matters more than performance. People do not require a polished experience. They require a place to be received.

The fourth gesture involves offering help when it is clearly needed, rather than waiting to be asked. Small acts of support, offered without instruction or prompting, signal a kind of care that is attentive rather than transactional. Responding with generosity when the need is obvious invites others to feel held rather than indebted.

A final gesture is the practice of acknowledging what is good. Quiet appreciation matters, but speaking that recognition aloud, whether for care, persistence, or integrity, makes it tangible. Giving voice to what we value helps keep it present in the world, both for the one who offers it and the one who receives it.

These actions may appear small, but they are not minor. Social trust does not appear all at once. It builds gradually through repeated gestures that show consistency, care, and presence. Research in sociology and psychology has shown that regular, low stakes interactions such as casual greetings, shared routines, or simple offers of help can strengthen both personal well-being and collective resilience (Murthy; Putnam; Waldinger and Schulz).

Small moments shape how people experience safety, belonging, and the possibility of mutual support. Over time, they contribute to greater cooperation, emotional openness, and civic participation. What begins as a habit of care becomes part of a broader moral culture. In practicing these acts, we take part in the slow and necessary work of mending what has come undone.

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Sources and Further Reading

Brooks, David. “Why Do So Many People Think Trump Is Good?” The Atlantic, July 2025.
https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2025/07/trump-administration-supporters-good/683441.

“Emotivism.” Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy, edited by Edward Craig, Routledge, 1998,
https://www.rep.routledge.com/articles/thematic/emotivism/v-1. Accessed 11 July 2025.

Haidt, Jonathan. The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion. Pantheon Books, 2012.
https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt1cc2r3r.

MacIntyre, Alasdair. After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory. 3rd ed., University of Notre Dame Press, 2007.
PDF version available at https://epistemh.pbworks.com/f/4.+Macintyre.pdf.

Murthy, Vivek H. Together: The Healing Power of Human Connection in a Sometimes Lonely World. Harper Wave, 2020.
https://www.harpercollins.com/products/together-vivek-h-murthy.

Putnam, Robert D. Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community. Simon & Schuster, 2000.
https://bowlingalone.com/.

Waldinger, Robert, and Marc Schulz. The Good Life: Lessons from the World’s Longest Scientific Study of Happiness. Simon & Schuster, 2023.
TED Talk: “What Makes a Good Life?”
https://www.ted.com/talks/robert_waldinger_what_makes_a_good_life_lessons_from_the_longest_study_on_happiness.