Socratic navigation: questioning our way through the fog.
Reclaiming Our Moral Compass in an Age of Uncertainty
1. The Flight
We launched from the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln, just after midnight, somewhere in the Indian Ocean, on our way to the Persian Gulf in 1995. It was a routine mission. There was no weather. There were no threats. It was just another training sortie in the A-6E Intruder—a low-level, medium-attack aircraft.
As a Bombardier/Navigator, I was in the right seat with the terrain-following radar and weapon systems in front of me. As I remember, it was a routine flight; however, it was also a moonless night with no discernible horizon. This meant we could not look outside to orient ourselves. We had to trust our instruments. About thirty minutes into the flight, something snapped. My inner ear screamed that we were falling out of the sky.
I had never experienced vertigo like this before. My senses told me that we were diving to the deck. . . that we had lost control. However, all the instruments said that we were flying straight and level. That’s when I turned and looked at the pilot and asked if we were “all good.” He turned to me with a quizzical look and said something like, “Yeah, dude... what’s your problem?” I shook my head and turned back to my radar.
One of the first rules of flying at night or in bad conditions is to “trust your instruments.” The pilot didn’t feel the chaos I felt. He knew we weren’t falling—not because of a gut feeling, but because he had trained to trust the system. In this context, we, as Naval Aviators, had spent years learning how to perceive the world through data, repetition, and disciplined judgment. . . not emotion. And, in that moment, I had a choice: trust my senses or trust something deeper.
I’ve never forgotten that moment. Because what threw me wasn’t enemy fire or a mechanical failure; it was uncertainty. My own mind. My inability to reconcile what I felt was going on with what was really going on.
I find myself feeling a similar disorientation in today’s current geo-political reality. What I thought was ‘true’ is being completely discombobulated. It is forcing me, like many others, to reevaluate the instruments that we use to guide our actions and inform our decisions.
2. Socratic Radar: Reclaiming Our Moral Instruments
That night in the A-6 has haunted me for 30 years. Not because anything went wrong, but because it was really the first time that I realized how quickly the mind can betray the moment, how easy it is to feel lost, even when everything is actually fine.
Over the past 100 days, I have been wrestling with the question of how to define reality within a very different context. I am participating in a seminar on Xenophon’s Memorabilia, as part of the Slow Read Symposium, sponsored by the Great Books Institute. (Side note: I highly recommend this forum for anyone who wants to spend time with the great books and great thinkers who influenced our modern society.)
Throughout Xenophon's Memorabilia and, more broadly, Plato's dialogues, Socrates challenges us to examine the foundations of our beliefs. His method, often cloaked in seemingly simple questions and riddles, compels us to confront profound uncertainties:
How do we discern right from wrong?
What if our convictions are misguided?
Could it be that the world remains constant, and it's our understanding that's askew?
Rather than providing direct answers, Socrates employs a dialectical approach (what we might call “precision questioning today), prompting individuals to define their terms and justify their beliefs. When someone claims to be a good general, he inquires, "What is a general?" If one professes to love justice, he asks, "What is justice?" His intent isn't to undermine for the sake of argument, but to guide individuals toward self-awareness, ensuring they aren't navigating life with misplaced confidence and unexamined assumptions.
The core problem Socrates uncovers is this: we often mistake perception (or sensation) for understanding, confidence for knowledge, and status for wisdom. And this is the insight I now think about when reflecting on that event in the Indian Ocean. My pilot was calm and certain, not because he felt right, but because he knew how to perceive the reality of our situation at that moment. In an age of noise and narrative, where even our most capable leaders are flying through a fog of opinion, misinformation, and pressure, this kind of clarity is rare.
3. The 4P Framework: Recalibrating Our Moral Compass
In an age where moral relativism often clouds judgment, I would suggest we need to revisit and reinforce the internal instruments that should guide ethical decision-making. It may be a stretch, but I am going to employ the 4P Framework I introduced in an earlier post to help navigate the chaos we are currently experiencing.
Principle – Anchoring in Enduring Values: I am not going to debate that there is truth with a capital “T;” however, I will argue that at the core of ethical leadership lies a steadfast commitment to universal principles such as justice, honesty, the rule of law, and respect for human life/dignity. These principles should serve as the internal compass, guiding leaders through uncharted territories and turbulent times.
Policy – Translating Values into Actionable Guidelines: Policies should reflect and operationalize these core principles, providing clear directives that align organizational practices with ethical standards. This ensures consistency and accountability in decision-making processes.
Process – Establishing Ethical Decision-Making Mechanisms: We need more debate. We need more structured processes for ethical deliberation, including stakeholder consultations and impact assessments. We need our governance structure to promote thoughtful and inclusive decision-making that upholds moral integrity. We need leaders who are not afraid of “constructive tension.”
Practice – Embedding Ethics into the Way We Engage the World as a Country: We need to adopt an operating model where ethical considerations are integral to everyday actions, reinforcing the importance of moral responsibility. This involves continuous education, open dialogue, and leading by example to foster an environment of trust and accountability.
4. Defunding Virtue: When We Dismantle Our Moral Infrastructure
In recent months, Trump and his administration have used an unprecedented number of executive orders to make dramatic cuts to institutions that have long served as moral and informational compasses. Most recently, it was to defund NPR and PBS, citing alleged ideological bias. I know these organizations have leaned left over the years, but they have also provided educational and cultural programming for everyone over the years. I mean, he is shooting Big Bird. Come on.
And this is just the latest attack. In his first 30 days, via Elon Musk and DOGE, our government has halted most U.S. foreign aid, including substantial cuts to USAID, which has disrupted humanitarian efforts worldwide. These actions have led to the suspension of critical health and development programs, affecting vulnerable populations and leading to real deaths. 3 data points:
HIV/AIDS and Tuberculosis: An analysis by Dr. Brooke Nichols at Boston University estimates that if foreign aid is not restored by the end of 2025, over 176,000 additional deaths from HIV and 62,000 from tuberculosis could occur globally. As of April 2025, the tracker reported over 210,000 deaths, with more than 140,000 being children.
Vaccinations and Malaria: According to a statement from Senator Bernie Sanders, the cuts could lead to 2–3 million additional deaths due to lack of vaccinations, 166,000 more deaths from malaria, and 200,000 more children paralyzed from polio.
Child Malnutrition: UNICEF reports that funding cuts could leave more than 2.4 million children suffering from severe acute malnutrition without access to Ready-to-Use Therapeutic Food (RUTF), and up to 2,300 lifesaving stabilization centers at risk of closing or scaling back services.
Not only does this ignore the power of soft power, it is just mean and cruel. As Pope John Paul II remarked, "A society will be judged on the basis of how it treats its weakest members." I believe this includes helping, as we can, to support other countries. To be fair, I don’t know what the right level of investment is, but it is certainly not $0.
These defunding measures not only undermine the dissemination of knowledge and aid but also erode the moral infrastructure that supports a virtuous society. By dismantling institutions that promote education, cultural understanding, and humanitarian assistance, we not only risk losing our position as a world leader, but—more importantly—we risk losing the internal instruments that guide ethical decision-making and civic responsibility.
5. Listening to the Daimon: Returning to First Principles
In Plato's Apology, Socrates speaks of a divine inner voice, the daimonion, that guides him away from wrongdoing. He describes it as a spiritual sign that intervenes to prevent him from making moral missteps.
"This sign I have had ever since I was a child. It is a voice, and whenever it speaks, it turns me away from something I am about to do, but it never encourages me to do anything."
This daimonion isn't a mystical force; it's the internal compass that alerts us when we're veering off course. It's the quiet voice that urges us to pause, reflect, and choose the path of integrity. In our current fog of misinformation, polarization, and moral ambiguity, my own daimonion is clamoring that we are about to crash in a spectacular fireball if something does not change in our trajectory as a Republic. I would suggest that we all face the opportunity to rediscover our own inner guide. This is not about defining "truth” with a capital “T.” We must return to foundational principles that transcend political divides.