I develop Iris Murdoch's argument that “there is no Platonic ‘elsewhere,’ similar to the Christian ‘elsewhere.’ ” Thus: Iris Murdoch is against the Separation of the Forms not as a correction of Plato but in order to keep faith with him; Plato's Parmenides is not a source book of accurately targeted self-refutation but a catalogue of student errors; the testimony of Aristotle and Gilbert Ryle about Plato's motivations in the Theory of Forms is not an indubitable foundation from which to (...) denounce Iris Murdoch's treatment of Plato as inaccurate but a rival reading of dubious charity. If Iris Murdoch's version of the Theory of Forms strikes Newton Garver as an incoherent mix of influences from Wittgenstein and Plato, this is not because Iris Murdoch is herself confused, but because in important respects the orthodoxy has Plato wrong. (shrink)

This is a rebuttal of influential attempts to appropriate Murdoch for either Christianity or Buddhism. I show that Maria Antonaccio and Peter Byrne ignore Murdoch's explicit statements and misunderstand Murdoch’s interest in the Ontological Argument. I explain how St. Anselm’s remark ‘I believe in order to understand’ is properly connected with Murdoch’s parable of the Mother-in-Law: Murdoch is here offering support for a virtue epistemology. Later, I explore the merits and dangers of exegesis from Peter J. Conradi and Gordon Graham (...) treating Murdoch as a kind of Buddhist. I argue that the sense in which Murdoch is speaking as a ‘ Buddhist Christian’ makes her a third kind of thinker resembling a Buddhist on some points, and a Christian on others. (shrink)

: Richard Moran argues that Iris Murdoch is an Existentialist who pretends not to be. His support for this view will be shown to depend on his attempt to assimilate Iris Murdoch's discussion of moral ‘vision’ in the parable of the Mother in Law to Sartre's thought on ‘choice’ and ‘orientation’. Discussing both Moran's Murdoch exegesis and Sartre's Being and Nothingness, I develop the Sartrean view to which Moran hopes to assimilate Murdoch, before pointing out how Moran's assimilation fails. Murdoch's (...) thought that when M is just and loving she sees D ‘as she really is’ cannot be accommodated on Sartre's picture. I develop this point of disagreement between Murdoch and Sartre, and argue that Murdoch has not as Moran claims made a misattribution to Sartre of an unsituated will, but has instead offered a penetrating critique of the central theme of Sartre's epistemology. (shrink)

I consider the support variously offered for the remark at Philosophical Investigations 246: ‘It can’t be said of me at all (except perhaps as a joke) that I know I am in pain.’ Against the first sort of argument to be found in Wittgenstein and the literature I offer cases in which I learn of pain. Against the second sort of argument I develop the case in which I am persuaded by compelling evidence that I am, contrary to what I (...) imagined, still in an emotional pain about N. I then consider the counter-argument that the mix of sensation and emotion in my second case makes it irrelevant as a criticism of Wittgenstein, but argue that the reverse holds. That ‘sensation’ is quite separate from ‘emotion’ is a Cartesian Mistake which is, I argue, implicit in Wittgenstein’s discussion of ‘I know I am in pain’. (shrink)

If in our use of imagery we are all of us the unacknowledged legislators of the world, it would follow that one can ‘serve the cause of sexual equality in education’ by challenging the way our images of the academic are gendered.1 This is the excellent stated purpose of Sabina Lovibond's short new book, Iris Murdoch, Gender and Philosophy.2.

Murdoch brings together the darkness of misery and the darkness of wickedness under the observation that ‘goodness is not acontinuously active organic part of our purposes and wishes’. This looks like an empirically minded correction of Socrates. But besides correcting Socrates, is Murdoch also offering, as Stephen Mulhall suggests, ‘a fundamental counter-example’ to her own ‘moral vision’? This depends on what one takes Murdoch’s moral vision to be. I trace Mulhall's mistake to Maria Antonaccio's misidentification of the good with the (...) concept of the good. (shrink)

Discussion of Iris Murdoch recalls Socrates' plea that he be allowed a crabwise approach to the Good. What his audience want of a direct approach is an explanation of precisely what sort of thing the Good is, where the demand for precision carries the force of: Tell me now, in which of the categories of thing I already allow to exist is the Good to be found? This is just what academia has done with the obscure singularity of Murdoch – (...) and the comedy of the exercise is the same. (shrink)

David Robjant also criticizes Levin's article from Think 10.

I observe Iris Murdoch's distinctive use of the word ‘flux’ in discussion of Sartre's Nausea and show that her usage is persuasive and revolutionary, first as Sartre exegesis, second as Heraclitus exegesis, and throughout as a contribution to the philosophy of language. Murdoch's usage of ‘flux’ frames a comparison of Sartre's Roquentin with other figures who have had similarly flowing experience but without nausea. Roquentin's plight is shown to be ‘a philosopher's plight’ precipitated by a defective theory of descriptive success. (...) I then show how the Heraclitean fragments would support Murdoch's treatment of flux and on close analysis contradict the established view exemplified in the work of Wittgenstein and Jonathan Barnes. Flux is not a variety of change, and the river image ‘cannot be analysed into non-metaphorical components without a loss of substance’. (shrink)

The Timaeus is difficult, and Murdoch has two strands of thought about it. On the one hand she thinks it a defence of Forms, and on the other hand she thinks it is an allegory on the inspiration and limitations of the artist, or creative literary writer. Arguing that the two strands get in each other’s way, and that one is mistaken, I will defend and expand on ‘Plato’s portrait of the artist’.

Iris Murdoch’s The Black Prince is narrated by a convicted felon named Bradley Pearson, looking back on his former adventures culminating in the death of the author Arnold Baffin. Bradley writes while in prison for Arnold’s murder, and between various speculative and philosophical remarks on Love and Art, Bradley relates a story that, if true, would make his conviction a miscarriage of justice. According to Bradley, Arnold was a victim of domestic violence, killed by his wife, Rachel. The fact that (...) the police discovered Bradley standing by Arnold’s corpse and holding the murder weapon is apt to mislead, according to Bradley.For simple readers, the verdict of those who heard all the evidence in court might be.. (shrink)

Like Leo Strauss and Karl Popper, most readers take it that one cannot have a political reading of the Republic at all, except by interest in Plato’s attitude toward the proposals developed by Socrates and his interlocutors. But this is not true. I do not mean that it is a good idea to cultivate apathy concerning Plato’s attitudes to sexual equality, private property, food, war, and so on. I mean that there is this possibility mentioned by Stanley Rosen, that “Plato (...) speaks in the story he tells, not in the arguments he assigns to his dramatis personae.”1 That possibility, more usually deployed against Popper, might also worry Strauss. For it is not obvious that treating Socrates as Plato’s satirical voice is any.. (shrink)

While Iris Murdoch lived, Charles Taylor found philosophers as yet ‘too close’ to her rich philosophical contribution to see its true importance (Taylor 1996: 3). Twelve years from her death, Iris Murdoch, Philosopher is the first collection of essays on Murdoch’s philosophy edited by a philosopher, for a readership in academic philosophy. The collection is not yet the fulfilment of Taylor’s prophecy, but has the energy of a giant leap.