Writings

Philosopher Nick Riggle argues that awesomeness is not mere hyperbole for “excellence”, but a deliberate act of creating “social openings”—moments where individuals break free from rigid social scripts to foster mutual appreciation and community.¹ This essay begins by examining Riggle’s concept of awesomeness, followed by what makes an interaction awesome. It then illustrates how Socrates exemplifies awesomeness and concludes with a discussion on the role of hope in sustaining it. It is argued throughout that awesomeness is not only an important virtue, but a vital one for our fragmented, digitally distracted age.

Riggle’s concept of awesomeness captures a unique social virtue defined by spontaneity, individuality, and the creation of meaningful human connection. Awesomeness refers to actions that instil awe not through excellence alone but by disrupting expectations in a way that reveals individuality and invites others to do the same.² When someone is being awesome, they aren’t merely performing a role in a social script; rather, they create openings for others to break free and step into authentic interaction. Riggle argues that the modern usage of ‘awesome’ reflects this specific virtue, which contrasts with its corresponding vice: suckiness. To suck, in this sense, is to fail to engage—to stifle or ignore the opportunities others offer for connection.³ A sucky person doesn’t just fail to be interesting when presented with an opportunity to be expressive—they shut it down, retreating into predictability and refusing to participate in shared authenticity. Awesomeness, by contrast, embraces risk and openness. Where suckiness closes doors, awesomeness swings them wide open. In this way, Riggle redefines ‘awesome’ not as empty praise but as a moral recognition of someone choosing connection and creativity over routine, thereby enriching the social world of others.⁴ This reframing invites us to see everyday encounters not as throwaway moments, but as opportunities for playful self-expression. Whether ordering coffee, receiving a package, or paying for groceries, the awesome person is attuned to the potential in the everyday for sparks of shared individuality.

Imagine you’re checking out at the grocery store, and the cashier asks, “Would you like a receipt?” Instead of saying “No, thank you”, you reply “Only if it doubles as a certificate of survival!” This tiny break in script creates a moment for connection. If the cashier laughs and says, “You’ve earned it!”, the social opening is completed. The moment shifts from purely transactional to expressive. However, if the cashier offers a dismissive “Ok”, the opportunity collapses; this is suckiness—not as cruelty, but as a missed chance to reciprocate in the deviation from social scripts. These moments seem trivial, but Riggle argues that they accumulate into a cultural ethos. Awesomeness cultivates a world where people feel free to be expressive, receptive, and generous.⁵ It is a value that encourages both individuality and community, without sacrificing one to the other. In an era marked by online echo chambers and routine interactions lacking depth, the capacity to forge spontaneous, genuine connections is rare. Awesomeness, in this time, becomes an antidote that models how we might live together—not just civilly, but meaningfully.

While such everyday moments highlight awesomeness in the present, historical figures like Socrates provide a compelling example of Riggle’s notion of awesomeness, revealing its deeper roots. As Riggle notes, Socrates was ‘awesome’ not because he followed conventional norms, but because he disrupted them in ways that opened space for others to think differently.⁶ Through the Socratic method he invited people to step outside of their habitual thinking and engage in deeper reflection. This disruption of social scripts created new possibilities for dialogue and self-understanding, aligning with Riggle’s idea that awesomeness involves fostering “social openings.” Rather than conforming to expectations of professional decorum, Socrates was willing to appear foolish, even provocative, in order to spark meaningful exchange. In this way, he did not merely reject convention; he actively made space for others to join him in the creation of a more authentic, dynamic community. The figure of Socrates not only exemplifies awesomeness, but it also shows us how being awesome is not just about being different—it’s about using one’s difference to encourage others to be more fully themselves.

Awesomeness, then, is not simply a distraction from moral seriousness—it is a different mode of it. Like kindness, or courage, it flourishes in the everyday. It takes creativity, timing, and sensitivity. It requires attentiveness to others and a willingness to be vulnerable—for it is not always successful. Not every joke lands, not every gesture is reciprocated, yet this is part of its moral power: to be awesome is to risk rejection for the chance of connection; it is a hopeful act. In this way, Riggle’s awesomeness builds upon Frankfurt’s insight that sincerity is increasingly rare in an age of bullshit—speech divorced from concern for truth or meaning.⁷ The awesome person, like the sincere one, seeks out something real. But while Frankfurt focuses on epistemic integrity, Riggle shifts our attention to aesthetic and interpersonal integrity. In this light, awesomeness resists the flattening of culture into scripts by insisting that our social lives can still surprise, delight, and transform.

Thus, this essay has demonstrated—through Riggle’s theory, practical examples, and the case of Socrates—that awesomeness is not just about being different, it’s about using difference to invite others into a more authentic dialogue. It is a virtue rooted in hope: that others will respond; that creativity will be met with receptivity; and that through our willingness to go off-script, we can build communities where individuality is not merely tolerated but celebrated. Awesomeness emerges as a timeless virtue—one that counters modern disconnection with hope and creativity. In a time of increasing post-pandemic social disconnection, awesomeness is not only important—it is vital.

John Locke’s theory of personal identity, as articulated in An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, posits that continuity of consciousness is essential for personal identity over time. For Locke, consciousness primarily involves memory of past experiences. As such, this essay examines Locke’s theory, evaluates its strengths and limitations, and argues that consciousness alone is insufficient to fully account for identity. It begins by examining why Locke thinks psychological continuity is essential to identity.

Locke defines a person as a “thinking intelligent being” capable of self-reflection and of recognising itself as the same entity across time.¹ In contrast to theories tying identity to the body or soul, Locke argues that identity is rooted in psychological continuity, specifically memory of past actions and thoughts. He supports this with the famous thought experiment—the prince and the cobbler. In this thought experiment, the prince’s consciousness, including his memories, inhabits the cobbler’s body and vice versa. Because the prince retains his memories and self-awareness in the cobbler’s body, he remains the prince, showing that identity is tied to consciousness, not the physical form or social relationships.² Here, Locke’s theory aligns with our intuitive sense of self, where memory links past and present, rather than bodily features or social roles. Yet, despite its intuitive appeal, Locke’s reliance on memory as the sole criterion for identity invites significant philosophical challenges.

Locke’s memory-based theory of personal identity faces key challenges of circularity and logical inconsistency. Joseph Butler argues that Locke’s theory is circular: memory presupposes an existing self who recalls experiences, so it cannot define identity.³ If identity depends on memory, but memory already assumes a self to do the remembering, Locke’s definition becomes circular and fails to establish identity independently. Thomas Reid’s “Brave Officer” paradox further challenges Locke: a boy (A) flogged at school becomes an officer (B) recalling the flogging, then a general (C) remembering B but not A. Per Locke’s theory, A = B, and B = C, but C ≠ A. However, this violates identity’s transitivity such that if A = B, and B = C, then it must follow that C = A.⁴ Building on the critiques of Locke’s theory, the challenges posed by amnesia further expose the incompleteness of his framework.

Amnesic patients who lose significant portions of autobiographical memory are still recognised as the same person legally, socially, and morally. This persistence of self, grounded in physical and social continuity, demonstrates that memory alone cannot account for personal identity. Even when psychological continuity is severed, the individual’s obligations, traits and relational history remain, indicating that identity transcends remembered content. Any robust theory of identity must therefore supplement psychological continuity with factors such as physical or social continuity to account for cases of memory loss.

In summary, this essay examined Locke’s argument, evaluated its strengths and limitations, and argued that consciousness alone is insufficient to robustly account for identity. While Locke’s emphasis on the sameness of consciousness provides a compelling psychological foundation of personal identity, its circularity, logical inconsistencies, and failure in cases like amnesia suggest memory alone cannot fully explain identity. Though influential, Locke’s theory needs refinement to address the complexities of personal identity.