Visionary Philosophy

Malin Jörnvi

Uppsala University Department of Philosophy Master’s Program in Aesthetics MA thesis, 45 ECTS Summer 2020 Supervisor: Guy Dammann Examiner: Nicholas Wiltsher

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Abstract In this thesis I look at possible implications of the philosophical use of sight metaphors as

rendered visible in the philosophy of Iris Murdoch. Through Murdoch’s reading of Plato, and

together with the perspectives added by Ludwig Wittgenstein, Paul de Man, Carolyn

Korsmeyer, and Mats Persson, I argue that some contemporary philosophy as shaped by science

and logic might be partially blind to essential aspects of human life and human awareness. I

show that this partial blindness becomes visible in an inability to acknowledge and understand

the philosophical importance of that which cannot be seen from a distance, and I argue that this

may be due to a modern understanding of clarity. I claim that this understanding of clarity

essentially differs from that of Plato and that it becomes particularly evident in Plato’s reliance

on metaphors and allegories, not as unclear and obfuscating aspects to be untangled, but as

depicting essential dimensions of the inexhaustible complexity of life. I finally argue that it is

vital to recover and to philosophically consider these obscurer aspects if philosophy is to stay

relevant to actual human beings living in the muddle that is everyday life.

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Contents Abstract

Contents

Introduction

Part one: Metaphors of Vision

1.1 Platonic Light

1.2 The Allegory of the Cave

1.3 Metaphor and Philosophy

1.4 Murdoch’s Vision

Part two: Philosophical Perspectives

2.1 The Hierarchy of Senses

2.2 Platonic Sight and Insight

2.3 Revision: Murdoch’s Vision

Conclusion

References

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Introduction

“Man is a creature who makes pictures of himself, and then comes to resemble the picture.”

— Iris Murdoch, “Metaphysics and Ethics”

The aim of this thesis is to shed light on the philosophical use of metaphors of vision.

Commencing here a sketch of a larger picture which makes visible the metaphoric use of the

sense of sight and the possible impact this has had on philosophy, I will in the following focus

primarily on the writings of Iris Murdoch (1919-1999). Murdoch’s philosophical work is

mainly in the field of ethics, yet it is perhaps as a novelist that she is more known to the public:

in addition to her lectureships in philosophy she published 26 novels throughout her lifetime.

Many of her novels concern existential and philosophical questions and likewise her philosophy

makes continuous reference to literature and art. I will in this thesis, however, not engage in the

discussion on whether or not Murdoch intended for her philosophical work to be separated from

her literary.1 I will instead concentrate on her understanding and use of metaphors and

metaphors of sight in philosophy and I will therefore focus on a limited selection of her

published lecture notes, namely: “The Idea of Perfection” (1964), “The Sovereignty of Good

over Other Concepts” (1967), and “The Fire and the Sun” (1976).

Murdoch considered ethics to be first philosophy, that is, the study which regards

philosophy itself.2 This view on ethics as not being a philosophical issue among others she

inherited from Plato, and as will be shown, Plato plays a foundational part in Murdoch’s

philosophy—as he of course does in the Western tradition at large. Metaphors of vision are

further at the core of Platonic philosophy and given the topic of this thesis it is thus necessary

to give him proper attention: Part 1 of the thesis will focus on metaphors of sight through

Murdoch’s reading of Plato. In returning to Plato, I will revisit some of the most famous

philosophical allegories and I will show the essential role of light and clarity to these Platonic

images. I will then turn more specifically to Murdoch and here expound her understanding of

the very centrality of metaphor to human consciousness. With the aid of literary critic Paul de

Man, I will illustrate how her understanding appears in stark contrast to some contemporary

strands of philosophy before I close part one by explaining Murdoch’s own use of the Platonic

metaphors of sight, and the somewhat curious impact of Ludwig Wittgenstein on this view.

1 See, for example, Niklas Forsberg’s Language Lost and Found: On Iris Murdoch and the Limits of Philosophical Discourse. 2 Larsson, “Everything Important is to do with Passion”, 12.

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Having by now given an illustration of the philosophical use of metaphors of sight, I will

in Part 2 put this depiction into perspective. I will begin by turning to philosopher Carolyn

Korsmeyer who investigates other sensorial images, namely, the metaphors of taste. By

contrasting the senses of taste and sight, and the metaphors built upon this contrast, Korsmeyer

reveals a hierarchal ranking of the senses within the philosophical literature. In looking at

factors surrounding the development of the hierarchy, she shows how some features only appear

in historical and cultural context. Korsmeyer thus illustrates the importance of acknowledging

the backdrop to philosophical thinking, and with this in mind I will once again return to the

Platonic metaphors of sight as I with the help of historian of ideas Mats Persson survey the

dramatic readings of the Platonic dialogues. The dramatic interpretations emphasize the

importance of the scenes and characters as well as the dialogue format itself, and with Persson’s

dramatic thinkers I will complicate the depiction of Platonic thought given in part one. After

having highlighted some of the more obscure aspects of Plato’s philosophy, I will go back and

revise my discussion of Murdoch in order to reveal further dimensions to her metaphors of

sight. I will finally end part two by briefly elaborating on an aspect of Plato and Murdoch’s

views which brings the text explicitly back to the present.

However, before continuing into part one it might be necessary to explain the form or

style of this thesis. The text is written in a manner which may to some readers appear unclear,

perhaps even unphilosophical. Part of the reason for this is, I think, described by Ludwig

Wittgenstein in his Lecture on Ethics:

And now I must say that if I contemplate what Ethics really would have to be if there were such a science, this seems to me quite obvious. It seems to me quite obvious that nothing we could ever think or say should be the thing. That we can’t write a scientific book the subject matter of which is intrinsically sublime, above all other subject matters. I can only describe my feeling by the metaphor, that, if a man could write a book on ethics which really was a book on ethics, this book would, with an explosion, destroy all the other books in the world. – Our words, used, as we use them in science, are vessels capable only to contain and convey meaning and sense, natural meaning and sense, Ethics if it is anything, is supernatural and our words will only express facts; as a teacup will only hold a teacup full of water and if I were to pour out a gallon over it.3

Through the dramatic metaphoric clash between teacups and explosions, Wittgenstein

maintains that we cannot speak of that which cannot be spoken. Indeed, Wittgenstein argued

that we should limit philosophy to grammatical investigations and to untangling confused

language knots.

3 Wittgenstein, Lecture on Ethics, 45-46.

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Now, the present writing certainly regards ethics and it is my view that we very much

have to talk about morality. Nevertheless, Wittgenstein’s understanding serves to illustrate the

necessity of suspending the urge for a precise terminology and structured argumentation

inspired by science when discussing ethics. It also explains why this thesis might appear as

taking the approach of a detour, of being about, or perhaps of going around its topic instead of

formally stating its objectives and heading straight to the point. I therefore appeal to the

philosophically inclined reader to momentarily postpone the need for clarity. It is central to the

present text that if I succeed, the argument will gradually become perceptible and appear in its

entirety first at the end, together with the understanding of why the text necessarily moves in a

more bumpy and murky landscape than normally considered proper.4

Further staying with this partially Wittgensteinian understanding, I will throughout this

thesis not define any terms, but instead appeal to the reader’s knowledge of the words’ meanings

in everyday language. Morality and ethics will therefore be treated as synonyms, and metaphor,

image, figure, and picture will be used interchangeably in a nontechnical sense. Similarly, I will

repeatedly refer to contemporary philosophy in a broad and general manner as I trust and

encourage the reader to reflect on the aptness of my descriptions for themselves.

Lastly, if what I have described regarding the style of the text sounds peculiar, the

following analogy could be curiously helpful: Someone philosophically minded suggested that

one should read this thesis, not with the intense gaze with which one would sit bent down and

attach links to a chain, but with the softer and broader focus only available to someone moving

at a higher speed, as if one walks into a wetland that requires one to jump from tuft to tuft in

order to not fall in.5 It could thus be advantageous to read this piece of writing fairly rapidly in

one session and reflect on it as a whole only afterwards.

The question under investigation is the following:

What are possible implications of the philosophical use of sight metaphors as rendered visible

in the philosophy of Iris Murdoch?

4 This view is also found among some of Wittgenstein’s remarks collected in Culture and Value, for example with regard to Kierkegaard on pages 36-37. I would further argue that a similar understanding is described by Theodor Adorno in “The Essay as Form”—which means that Adorno would probably see the present text as closer to essay than scientific paper, and also understand why this is necessarily so. 5 For the purpose of this thesis and its base in the philosophy of Iris Murdoch it is not insignificant that the person who suggested the image is someone who ceaselessly tries to see me justly and lovingly.

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Part one: Metaphors of Vision

“[P]hilosophy needs metaphor and metaphor is basic; how basic is the most basic philosophical question.”

— Iris Murdoch, “The Fire and the Sun”

Part 1 of this thesis focuses on the philosophical use of metaphors of vision through Murdoch’s

reading of Plato. In Section 1.1 I will discuss the importance of light to Platonic philosophy as

seen in the Theory of Forms and the Divided Line. I will briefly contrast this discussion with

Plato’s view on pleasure before I in Section 1.2 focus on Platonic sight and scrutinize the

Allegory of the Cave. Highlighting the role of the sun as representing the Form of the Good,

the various shapes taken by the Theory of Forms throughout the dialogues will here be

underscored and lead to Murdoch’s understanding of the centrality of metaphor in Platonic and

philosophical reasoning. In Section 1.3 I will elaborate on the importance Murdoch places with

metaphors in philosophy and how it appears, as showed by Paul de Man, in stark contrast to a

grand portion of the philosophical tradition. In Section 1.4 I will finally look closer at

Murdoch’s own use of metaphors of sight as well as the important influence of Ludwig

Wittgenstein on this view.

1.1 Platonic Light

Plato exerted great influence on Murdoch, and as once so famously expressed by A. N.

Whitehead, Plato similarly paves the way for Western philosophy: “The safest general

characterization of the European philosophical tradition is that it consists of a series of footnotes

to Plato.”6 The significance of Plato’s dialogues in the Western philosophical canon cannot be

overestimated and Plato’s impact on the use of the sense of sight as the prime philosophical

metaphor is substantive. Yet, for that to become clear it is necessary to look at the central role

of light in his understanding of human consciousness.

In “The Fire and the Sun,” Murdoch elaborates on the difference between two sources of

light – fire and sun – in Plato’s philosophy. Murdoch seeks to nuance Plato’s notorious

contempt for the arts,7 and his need to banish the artists from his city state, and she opens her

discussion by emphasizing that the “’old quarrel between philosophy and poetry’” existed long

6 Whitehead, Process and Reality, 39. 7 Of course, the Greek conception of technê being different from the modern English concept of art. See, for example, Parry, “Episteme and Techne,” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

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before Plato entered the picture.8 Murdoch stresses the fact that Plato inherited a tradition, and

she points out that it is not too surprising that in proposing something different to the teachings

of “the traditional purveyors of theological and cosmological information,” Plato takes a critical

stance towards his contemporary prophets and sages.9 Developing his philosophy, Plato hence

seeks to explore a different approach to thinking and reasoning than the dominant teachings of

his time. And one essential cornerstone to this new understanding is the Theory of Forms:

Plato pictures human life as a pilgrimage, from appearance to reality. The intelligence, seeking satisfaction, moves from uncritical acceptance of sense experience and of conduct, to a more sophisticated and morally enlightened understanding. How this happens and what it means is explained by the Theory of Forms.10

As reiterated by Murdoch, Plato’s Theory of Forms plays a central role in is his description of

the journey of the mind towards intellectual refinement.

The Forms reoccur at various points throughout the dialogues and in the Republic the

development of human consciousness is illustrated by the analogy of the Divided Line. The

analogy consists in a line representing human awareness which is divided into four segments

ranked from lower to higher. The first and lowest segment has to do with imagination and

illusion (eikasia). The second part is about belief and acceptance in the sight of material things

(pistis). The third section is the part of the intellect which then draws conclusions from the

visible things into the realm of reasoning, for example number and geometry (dianoia). This

reasoning is, however, not the same as the actual means of study derived from belief, instead

reason is about the intangible patterns and systems governing the beliefs. It is this abstract

reasoning that provides the means for the mind to reach the forth and highest segment,

intelligence, where the pure enlightened understanding of the Forms themselves takes place

(noesis).11

The Line is a pedagogic sketch for Plato’s understanding of the structure of human

awareness, and as such, a few things are important to highlight. First, Plato means that it is only

the two latter sections, reason and intelligence, that have to do with knowledge. The two former,

imagination and belief, are in contrast considered to be within the realm of opinion. Importantly,

it is also only the two lower parts, in terms of sight, that have a base in sensible perception. The

two higher sections of reason and intelligence are in contrast purely in the abstract. Second, the

8 Murdoch, “The Fire and the Sun,” 386. 9 Ibid. 10 Ibid. 387. 11 Plato, Republic (Book VI, 509d - 511e).

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line is ranked in a hierarchy and as Murdoch stressed, it is Plato’s intention that the intelligence

and the understanding of the Forms in themselves is the goal for the pilgrimage of the human

mind. Third, the route to the Forms is through reasoning, and this is where philosophy enters

the equation. Philosophy, from the Greek φιλοσοφία, philosophía (phílos, “loving” and sophía,

“wisdom”) is to Plato the practice and quest for knowledge and pure understanding. Now, as

seen here it is dangerous to engage with Plato if one wants to stay on track in a philosophical

argument as the dialogues invite for countless paths of reflection. So in discussing the Platonic

structure of human awareness I will limit myself to one last point regarding the Divided Line’s

illustration of the journey of the intellect, namely, its relationship to pleasure.

Murdoch discusses Plato’s complicated attitude towards pleasure in her reading of

Philebus. The dialogue begins by accepting that a good life must contain both pleasure and

reason, but then order is introduced as pleasure, if it is to remain virtuous, has to be put under

rational control:

The argument proceeds to suggest that only rationally controlled pleasures are good, and that intelligence, most kin to divine order, is the good-making ingredient in the good life. A distinction is made between true and false pleasures which is then carefully blended into a distinction between pure and impure pleasures. The clearer value of truth moves in to assist the obscurer value of good, and is joined in turn by the idea of the pure, always so dear to Plato.12

Murdoch distills Plato’s view on pleasure and how he employs reason to keep pleasure in place.

She also brings out the pairing between true and pure and false and impure, and stresses Plato’s

particular preference for purity. As Murdoch then states some examples of pure pleasure,

Plato’s aesthetics enters the picture: “The first item upon the list is aesthetic. Quality of pleasure

is here linked with quality of beauty. Some things are absolutely (truly, purely) beautiful.”13 It

is thus in this sense that beauty becomes part of Plato’s philosophy: beauty is pleasure that is

true and pure. True beauty can however be modified and Plato allows for relative beauty and

pleasure attainable through sensible qualities, such as certain colors or simple geometrical

figures or pure notes. In this way some pleasure is allowed. Murdoch here refers to the Platonic

main character and puts it: “Socrates tries to ‘save’ pleasure by attaching it to reason and truth

in the form of beauty, here narrowly defined through satisfaction in measure, moderation and

harmony.”14 Thus, in a controlled format, pleasure can partake of the beautiful, and serve the

12 Murdoch, “The Fire and the Sun,” 394-395 (emphasis added). 13 Ibid. 395. 14 Ibid.

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search for virtue: hexametrical poetry can be beautiful, crude drama cannot. Together with the

values of truth and purity, controlled beauty can in Plato’s mind therefore assist in shedding

light on the obscurity of good.

Here the prime question for Plato and Murdoch alike approaches, that is, the questions of

Good. Because as Plato’s theorizing develops, the Form of the Good increasingly takes the

shape of an overriding principle. The Forms of Truth, Purity, and Beauty becomes mediators in

this quest for the Good. Now, as vision and light has only been more or less alluded to in the

present description of Plato’s understanding of human awareness, it might not yet be clear what

the Divided Line, and in turn, the Form of the Good, have to do with sight. To spell out the

connection is the purpose of the coming section in which I will scrutinize another Platonic

image, the Allegory of the Cave, in order to further clarify the role played by light in Plato’s

philosophy.

1.2 The Allegory of the Cave

Plato’s Allegory of the Cave is one of the most notable parables in the history of Western

philosophy and it can be summarized as follows: There is a cave in which chained people sit

facing the back wall. On the wall they see moving shadows which, being all they have ever

seen, they understand as constituting reality. But behind them there is a fire, and between the

people and the fire there are copies of things moving about, copies which in turn render the

shadows onto the wall. In due time, some of the chained people will be able to turn around and

see the fire and the copies themselves. As the cave is deep, these people will take the light of

the fire and its illumination of the copies to be the real. However, above the people, the copies,

and the fire, there is an opening. At some point, certain individuals in the group of people will

be able to break loose of their chains and climb out into the open. There they will see the outside

world in the light of the sun, and there they will see what give rise to the copies in the cave, that

is, they will see the original Forms themselves.15

The allegory progresses from regular people chained inside the darkness of the cave to

the free pilgrims seeing in true light the Forms themselves. As such, the parable depicts the

philosopher’s journey from obscurity to clarity. This clarity comes from the clear understanding

of the differentiated Forms in the light of the sovereign Form, the sun, which is often interpreted

as the Form of the Good itself. Murdoch succinctly puts it: “The sun represents the Form of the

15 Plato, Republic (Book VII, 514a – 521b).

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Good in whose light the truth is seen; it reveals the world, hitherto invisible, and is also a source

of life.”16 Murdoch here brings out that the sun symbolizes the Good whose sovereign light

reveals the truth. She also highlights that the sun is not only the source of light that shines on

the world, the sun is also the very means that both provides and sustains the world. In this, the

very attractiveness of the allegory becomes visible: the sun both accounts for and at the same

time gives a clear image of the origin of both knowledge and life.

The philosopher’s task is to bring the understanding of the sun’s enlightened knowledge

back to the masses in an orderly manner and to guide the people with the perceived wisdom.

To Plato, the ideal pursuit of the ideal life is philosophy—it is no coincidence that Plato

imagined his ideal state to be ruled by philosopher kings. And now the similarities between the

Allegory of the Cave and the Divided Line in describing the journey of the intellect should

become perceptible: both parables involves insidious light – the fire and illusion (eikasia) –

which insinuates false impressions; both rely fundamentally on sight as means of progress

towards abstraction; and both have the Form of the Good as the truth revealing and originating

principle. This function of the Good in both parables once more refers to the Theory of Forms.

In again returning to the Theory of Forms, Murdoch brings in Aristotle who claims that

the background of the Theory is significantly twofold: “[Aristotle] represents the theory as

having a double origin – in Socrates’s search for moral definitions, and in Plato’s early

Heraclitean beliefs. He also… puts this in terms of the ‘one over many’ argument.”17 Aristotle

emphasizes the twin motives of Plato in developing the Forms: according to him, Plato attempts

with his Theory to connect Socrates’s Parmenidean inspired search for ultimate truth with

Heraclitus’s claim for everything’s eternal change. Seemingly opposed, this is not an easy task,

and the Theory of Forms continues to change throughout the dialogues as Plato appears to keep

trying out new angles to solve this issue. In Theaetetus, Plato takes a yet new approach, to

which Murdoch comments: “In discussing the quarrel between the followers of Parmenides and

of Heraclitus (the One men and the flux men) Socrates, rejecting ‘total motion’ and ‘total rest,’

anticipates the arguments of the Sophist; and we are told… that nothing is one ‘all by itself.’”18

In Theaetetus, Plato’s temporary solution to his problem is clearly the paradoxical statement

that nothing is singular on its own.

The relationship between the one and the many becomes a perpetual problem to Plato.

And at the center of this Platonic struggle, Murdoch highlights the return of metaphor. She

16 Murdoch, “The Fire and the Sun,” 389. 17 Ibid. 387-388. 18 Ibid. 409.

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writes that the correspondence between the Forms and the particulars “remains persistently

problematic as Plato moves uncertainly from a metaphor of participation to one of imitation.”19

Plato seems not to be able to conclude the Theory, to resolve the one and the many, and he

continuously employs various metaphors in seeking the right explanation. Murdoch describes

how the Forms change from being “imminent universals” to becoming “transcendent models”

as Plato continues the search for a satisfactory explanation. Yet, though the metaphors change

en route, the common denominator of sight never wavers, to which Murdoch comments:

The metaphor of knowledge as vision is not so easily eliminated… When the veil is removed and the rational and virtuous man sees reality, how much – indeed what – does he see? Are there things which somehow exist but which are irrelevant to serious thought, as Socrates was inclined to say in the Parmenides? Is it possible to see beyond the ‘formal network’? (Instinct says yes.) What does the light of the sun reveal; and who sees the most minute particulars and cherishes them and points them out? As one batters here at the cage of language it is difficult to keep the artist out of the picture even when one is attempting to describe the good man.20

Murdoch once more stresses the centrality of the sight of the truth and the light of the sun

to Platonic thought, but she also highlights the questions which remain unanswered regarding

the Forms. And in the still unclear aspects of Plato’s search for the Good, Murdoch begins to

notice certain limits, namely, the limits of language. It is in her attempt to resolve this issue of

language that Murdoch reintroduces the artists by the fire to questions of virtue. Because to

Murdoch, what goes on among the people in the shadows is not philosophically irrelevant: “The

details of what happens in the cave are to be studied seriously; and the ‘lower half’ of the story

is not just an explanatory image of the ‘higher half,’ but is significant in itself.”21 In noticing

Plato’s return to metaphor, Murdoch sees that not even Plato could do away with the flickering

light of the fire. To Murdoch it therefore becomes necessary to study also the inside of the cave.

1.3 Metaphor and Philosophy I have in this thesis so far described the role of light and sight in the Platonic depictions of the

human mind and the journey of the intellect. I have also highlighted Murdoch’s report of the

unsettled nature of Plato’s description of the Forms, and her interpretation that this has to do

with a certain tension between the pure ideas and the pure ideas’ depictions. As Murdoch begins

19 Ibid. 426. 20 Ibid. 427. 21 Ibid. 389.

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to sense certain limits to clear language, she is not ready to do away with the illustrating artists

inside the cave. In this section, I will therefore clarify Murdoch’s view on linguistic images –

metaphors – and their role in philosophy, and I will complement her understanding with literary

critic Paul de Man’s illumination of a certain metaphoric unease within some contemporary

philosophy.

Murdoch understands metaphors as establishing the most fundamental aspects of human

awareness. Her view is perhaps the most explicit in “The Sovereignty of Good over Other

Concepts” in which she writes: “The development of consciousness in human beings is

inseparably connected with the use of metaphor. Metaphors are not merely peripheral

decorations or even useful models, they are fundamental forms of our awareness of our

condition.”22 According to Murdoch, metaphors are immediately related to the structuring of

the human mind; neither ornamental nor advantageous, metaphors are essential to

understanding the human condition. And as she continues, the reasoning behind this

understanding for the importance of metaphors becomes clearer:

Philosophy in general, and moral philosophy in particular, has in the past often concerned itself with what it took to be our most important images, clarifying existing ones and developing new ones. Philosophical argument which consists of such image-play, I mean the great metaphysical systems, is usually inconclusive, and is regarded by many contemporary thinkers as valueless.23

Murdoch highlights the centrality of images, their examination as well as their creation, in the

philosophy of the past. Recalling here the influence of Platonic philosophy on Murdoch’s

thinking, it is significant that she lived and wrote in 20th century Britain: Murdoch misses

among her colleagues an image-based way of doing philosophy. As Murdoch regretfully

declares the imaginative investigations of previous eras philosophically obsolete, it is useful to

here expound her understanding of the role of metaphor in philosophy.

Murdoch’s view on metaphor is favorably complemented by literary critic Paul de Man.

In “Epistemology of Metaphor,” de Man describes the continuous bewilderment metaphors and

images have caused philosophical thinkers. De Man uses the umbrella term figurality and

writes:

Metaphors, tropes, and figural language in general have been a perennial problem and, at times, a recognized source of embarrassment for philosophical discourse. It appears that philosophy either has to give up its own constitutive claim to rigor in order to come to terms

22 Murdoch, “The Sovereignty of Good over Other Concepts,” 75. 23 Ibid.

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with the figurality of its language or that it has to free itself from figuration altogether. And if the latter is considered impossible, philosophy could at least learn to control figuration by keeping it, so to speak, in its place, by delimiting the boundaries of its influence and thus restricting the epistemological damage that it may cause.24

De Man writes that the philosophical way of solving the problem of figurality has been to either

accept metaphor at the expense of epistemological rigor, or to distinguish itself as the pure

opposite to the unclear language of tropes, and to employ various methods, such as definitions,

to keep figurative speech at a safe distance. Exemplifying this clash between metaphor and

philosophy, de Man turns to one of the founders of contemporary philosophy: British empiricist

John Locke.

Similar to Plato, Locke looks for knowledge and truth. In An Essay Concerning the

Human Understanding (1689), it becomes clear, however, that he aims to do so without the

obfuscating impact of metaphor. De Man brings out a passage in which Locke explicitly

laments this unclear use of language:

Since wit and fancy finds easier entertainment in the world than dry truth and real knowledge, figurative speeches and allusions in language will hardly be admitted as an imperfection or abuse of it… [I]f we would [instead] speak of things as they are, we must allow that all the art of rhetoric, besides order and clearness, all the artificial and figurative application of words eloquence hath invented, are for nothing else but to insinuate wrong ideas, move the passions, and thereby mislead the judgment.25

Locke opposes the “art of rhetoric” with its deceitful figurality and allusion and contrasts it to

the dryness of real knowledge and truth. He notably exempts the rhetorical employment of order

and clearness, in order to then decry his contemporaries’ weakness in front of artful deception.

Locke is also aware of the repercussions he will suffer for speaking to the downfall of this

“artificial” use of language: “Eloquence, like the fair sex, has too prevailing beauties in it to

suffer itself ever to be spoken against.”26 In his description, Locke warns of the dangers of

imaginative and skillful speech with its ability to mislead the listener, an influence he then

casually compares to that of the female.

Locke is clearly critical of rhetoric (and persuasive women), at least when it comes to

philosophical matters, and as de Man is examining the role of metaphors in contemporary

philosophy, he acknowledges that turning to Locke is not coincidental: “The mention of Locke

in this context certainly does not come unexpected since Locke’s attitude toward language, and

24 de Man, ”Epistemology of Metaphor,” 13. 25 Locke, An Essay Concerning the Human Understanding, (Book 3, chapter 10) 105-106 (emphasis in original). 26 Ibid.

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especially toward the rhetorical dimensions of language, can be considered as exemplary or, at

any rate, typical of an enlightened rhetorical self-discipline.”27 De Man argues that Locke can

be seen as embodying a view of language common at the beginning of contemporary

philosophy. This is evident in his criticism of figurative speech, but even more visible in his

attempt to discharge with words altogether from his investigations. According to Locke, words

“‘interpose themselves so much between our understandings and the truth… like the medium

through which visible objects pass, their obscurity and disorder does not seldom cast a mist

before our eyes and impose upon our understanding.’”28 Words are in Locke’s visual allegory

described as a medium through which, admittedly, understanding must pass, but in passing,

becomes soiled. In spite of his own intentions, Locke cannot rid himself of words, he can,

however, maintain a safe distance between figurative speech and to “speak of things as they

are.”

Murdoch, critical of this tendency of some contemporary philosophy, considers in stark

contrast to Locke metaphors fundamental to the human psyche. She further claims that the lack

of attention to this imaginative base of philosophy is not only unfortunate; it comes with a

significant loss: “[I]t seems to me impossible to discuss certain kinds of concepts without resort

to metaphor, since the concepts are themselves deeply metaphorical and cannot be analysed

into non-metaphorical components without a loss of substance.”29 To Murdoch, there is

something vital that goes missing without the recognition of the role metaphors play in

conceptualizing human understanding and morals.

Murdoch’s view on the moral weight inherent in metaphorical usage becomes even

clearer as she concludes her position: “Metaphors often carry moral charge, which analysis in

simpler and plainer terms is designed to remove. This too seems to me to be misguided. Moral

philosophy cannot avoid taking sides, and would-be neutral philosophers merely take sides

surreptitiously.”30 As seen here, Murdoch considers it crucial to acknowledge partiality,

particularly in discussing morality. And as she further finds metaphors foundational to human

understanding, she is critical of a tendency among philosophers to think themselves able to

analyze this partiality away.

27 de Man, ”Epistemology of Metaphor,” 14. 28 Ibid. (emphasis in original). 29 Murdoch, “The Sovereignty of Good over Other Concepts,” 75. 30 Ibid. 76.

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1.4 Murdoch’s Vision Murdoch’s sense of the absolute importance of metaphors in moral philosophy and in

understanding human consciousness becomes visible in the significance she attributes to the

Platonic use of the sense of sight: “Plato is right to exclaim that sight (vision) is our greatest

blessing, without which we would not reach philosophy. Our ability to use visual structures to

understand non-visual structures (as well as other different visual ones) is fundamental to

explanation in any field.”31 Murdoch’s preference for metaphors of sight is evident in her

acceptance of the Platonic connection between light and sight as that which enables the very

discovery of anything else. As previously mentioned: “The sun… reveals the world, hitherto

invisible.”32 Murdoch means that the light of the sun exposes a world until then imperceptible.

Metaphors of sight are essential to Murdoch’s understanding of philosophy, but remembering

her appeal to study also the details inside the darkness of the cave, the claim needs some

explanation. It is here enlightening to look at her own famous parable: The Story of M.

Murdoch’s allegory is found in “The Idea of Perfection” and it is to a large extent a

reaction to the dominating philosophical view of her time. Murdoch is responding to the

midcentury moral theories she labels behaviorism, existentialism, and utilitarianism, all of

which share a focus on free will and choice as that which can be analyzed in outward action.

She condenses these views into a shop-picture of morality in which “the ideally rational man”

walks in to a store of moral choices and in which the external act of shopping reveals what is

philosophically available to discussions of freedom and will. Murdoch comments: “One’s

initial reaction to this theory is likely to be a strong instinctive one: either one will be content

with the emphasis on the reality of the outer, the absence of the inner, or one will feel (as I do)

it cannot be so, something vital is missing.”33 In order to show what is overlooked, Murdoch

introduces M.

In The Story of M, a mother (M) succeeds in turning her impression of her daughter-in-

law (D) from vulgar to sweet through consistent efforts of reevaluation. M gradually changes

her opinion of D by unfailingly attempting to see her in a new light. Going even further,

Murdoch also adds alternative routes to the storyline, such as the effects on M’s appraisal if D

and her son would move abroad, of if D would die. With her narrative Murdoch attempts, in

contrast to the shop-picture, to illustrate both that a lack in outward action does not necessarily

equate to no change internally, and also, that if there is to be a visible change in judgement, it

31 Murdoch, “The Fire and the Sun,” 445. 32 Ibid. 389. 33 Murdoch, “The Idea of Perfection,” 9.

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cannot be “silent and dark within.”34 Murdoch’s point is that an outward action analysis, such

as that of the shop-picture, precisely fails to account for this internal domain because

[t]he analysis makes no sense of M as continually active, as making progress, or of her inner acts as belonging to her or forming part of a continuous fabric of being: it [action analysis] is precisely critical of metaphors such as ‘fabric of being.’ Yet can we do without such metaphors here? Further, is not the metaphor of vision almost irresistibly suggested to anyone who, without philosophical prejudice, wishes to describe the situation? Is it not the natural metaphor? M looks at D, she attends to D, she focuses her attention. M is engaged in an internal struggle.35

The quotation reiterates Murdoch’s understanding of the centrality of metaphor in moral

philosophy, contrary to the view held by an action analytical approach. It further reveals how

self-evident, indeed natural, Murdoch takes the metaphors of vision to be in order to make sense

of M’s ethical change. She also employs a metaphoric ‘fabric of being’ to situate M in a historic

context, emphasizing that M is part of a tradition and also that she is capable of moral

development. Murdoch further describes M’s internal struggle in terms of attention. Attention

is an important concept which Murdoch inherits from Simone Weil, and it can be condensed

here to designate the work the individual has to do in their quest, and preparation, for virtue.36

Notably, attention also connotes visual effort.

Murdoch’s use of sight metaphors reveals her attempt to recover a dimension of the moral

agent not seen by an action analytic approach: “At any rate the idea which we are trying to

make sense of is that M has in the interim been active, she has been doing something… M has

been morally active in the interim: this is what we want to say and to be philosophically

permitted to say.”37 Murdoch’s application of the Platonic metaphors of vision allows her to

recognize a part of a person which is invisible to a moral philosophy occupied with outward

action. And as her phrasing further indicates, she here returns to that other particular limitation

of some contemporary philosophy: its view on language. Murdoch writes in the wake of the

linguistic turn, the philosophical offshoot from the scientific paradigm in which the logical

analysis of language is determining the boundaries of what philosophy is ideally to concern.38

An essential character in this context is Ludwig Wittgenstein.

34 Ibid. 13. 35 Ibid. 21-22. 36 For a discussion on the concept of attention and the influence on Murdoch by Simone Weil see, for example, Niklas Forsberg’s “Perception and Prejudice” (forthcoming in Partial Answers 2020). 37 Murdoch, “The Idea of Perfection,” 19 (emphasis in original). 38 A survey of the linguistic turn is given in, for example, Richard Rorty’s anthology The Linguistic Turn: Essays in Philosophical Method.

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Wittgenstein appears again and again in Murdoch’s writings, and it may be seen as

paradoxical that one of the most prominent figures in the philosophy of language comes to

influence Murdoch’s view and her critique of a part of contemporary philosophy solely focusing

on that available to clear analysis. Yet, Wittgenstein appears even in her more frustrated

moments, as here with the action analytic view:

[t]here is only outward activity, ergo only outward moral activity, and what we call inward activity is merely the shadow of this cast back into the mind. And, it may be bracingly added, why worry? As Kant said, what we are commanded to do is to love our neighbor in a practical and not in a pathological sense.

This is one of those exasperating moments in philosophy when one seems to be being relentlessly prevented from saying something which one is irresistibly impelled to say. And of course, as Wittgenstein pointed out, the fact that one is irresistibly impelled to say it need not mean that anything else is the case. Let us tread carefully here.39

As Murdoch expresses her dissatisfaction with that also Kant’s moral philosophy can be

interpreted as enabling the transfer of observed outer behavior to the inner life of a person, she

turns to Wittgenstein. For though Wittgenstein is largely preoccupied with logic and language,

he also allows for the view that just because something seems logically obvious, or that certain

words inevitably come to mind, it does not mean that it is the only possible explanation.40

In Wittgenstein Murdoch finds a thinker who allows more to the morality of a human

being than that which fits with a clear analytical method. As described in the introduction,

Wittgenstein rarely remarks on ethics, and when he does, he has a tendency to speak about that

which he wants to convey.41 Murdoch comments on this approach: “his discussion is marked

by a peculiar reticence. He does not make any moral or psychological generalizations.”42

Wittgenstein thought ethics and human consciousness to be beyond language, and thus beyond

the clarity of linguistic analysis. However, as Murdoch importantly points out: “Wittgenstein is

not claiming that inner data are ‘incommunicable,’ nor that anything special about human

personality follows from their ‘absence,’ he is merely saying that no sense can be attached to

the idea of an ‘inner object.’ There are no ‘private ostensive definitions.’”43 As Murdoch here

highlights, Wittgenstein has a very precise sense of what philosophy can do within the realm of

39 Murdoch, “The Idea of Perfection,” 21 (emphasis in original). 40 In support of my interpretation, see Murdoch’s reference to Wittgenstein’s remark on page 16: “’Being unable—when we surrender ourselves to philosophical thought—to help saying such-and-such; being irresistibly inclined to say it—does not mean being forced into an assumption, or having an immediate perception or knowledge of a state of affairs.’” (emphasis in original). 41 See Introduction. For further reading, Wittgenstein’s remarks on ethics and human consciousness are largely found in Lecture on Ethics and Lectures and Conversations on Aesthetics, Psychology, and Religious Belief. 42 Murdoch, “The Idea of Perfection,” 12. 43 Ibid.

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meaning. Yet, that philosophical theory is to keep out of certain subjects does not entail that

they are not worthy of consideration, rather the opposite: numerous remarks survive which

speak of Wittgenstein’s reverential attitude towards that which cannot be grammatically or

logically captured.44

However, as Murdoch notices, in choosing not to speak clearly on certain topics, one

becomes vulnerable to the intrusion of interpreters. Wittgenstein was throughout his life aware

of the continuous risk his philosophy ran against being misunderstood, and according to

Murdoch, misunderstood he certainly was:

But, as I have said, while Wittgenstein remains sphinx-like in the background, others have hastened to draw further and more dubious moral and psychological conclusions. Wittgenstein has created a void into which neo-Kantianism, existentialism, utilitarianism have made chaste to enter… As the ‘inner life’ is hazy, largely absent, and any way ‘not part of the mechanism,’ it turns out to be logically impossible to take up an idle contemplative attitude to the good. Morality must be action since mental concepts can only be analysed genetically.45

Murdoch again criticizes the inability of some contemporary moral theories to refrain from

entering and explaining a void which is vital to Wittgenstein’s as well as her own understanding

of human morality and psychology. Murdoch’s remark further shows the difficulty with which

also this thesis struggles, that is, the hardship of explaining a way of thinking in which a

fundamental part cannot be spoken and defending that understanding in a philosophical climate

in which everything of worth should ideally be distilled into formal linguistic arguments. In

Murdoch’s view, everything that goes into being a human being is not open for clear analysis,

and this is above all the case for those concerns of humanity collected under the heading of

ethics: “M’s activity is hard to characterize not because it is hazy but precisely because it is

moral.”46

Morality is to Murdoch an area which is inevitably obscure, and in contrast to logic, in

need of being looked after.47 Yet, this does not mean that ethics needs to be taken care of. It

does, however, mean that ethics cannot exist separately from the human beings who deliberate

on the moral issue. Murdoch’s biggest objection to an action analysis approach to morals is that

it cannot handle the actual person facing the moral dilemma. The Story of M and Murdoch’s

44 An enlightening and critically acclaimed source into the life and thinking of Wittgenstein is Ray Monk’s biography Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius. 45 Murdoch, “The Idea of Perfection,” 15. 46 Ibid. 22 (emphasis in original). 47 In Murdoch’s own words on page 427 of “The Fire and the Sun:” “Logic can look after itself; ethics cannot.”

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claim for the recognition of the inner life of the individual is precisely a return to the person

who sees prior to visible outward action.

In the first part of this thesis I have accounted for Murdoch’s reading of the importance

of light and sight in Platonic philosophy, and how the metaphors make up substantial parts of

his allegoric depictions of human awareness, morality, and the philosophical search for clarity.

I have further described the fundamental importance Murdoch places with metaphors and how

her understanding differs from some of the more contemporary philosophical approaches. I

have restated Murdoch’s frustration with these approaches, and I have shown the importance

of Wittgenstein on her view—a view of which there is still a lot more to see. Yet, in order to

perceive the full extent of Murdoch’s visionary understanding, and in order to see more clearly

the far-reaching implications of the use of sight in philosophy, it is necessary to put the

metaphors of vision discussed in this thesis so far into further perspective. This is the purpose

of part two.

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Part two: Philosophical Perspectives

“A smart set of concepts may be the most efficient instrument of corruption.” — Iris Murdoch, “The Idea of Perfection”

Part 2 of this thesis puts the metaphors of sight discussed so far into perspective. In Section 2.1

I will turn to Carolyn Korsmeyer’s investigation into metaphors of taste. Korsmeyer shows how

taste is contrasted to sight and how the contrast reveals the crucial importance of context to

philosophical thought. Looking further into context I will in Section 2.2 then complicate the

view presented of Platonic philosophy so far. Through the dramatic readings of the dialogues,

I will with the perspectives added by Mats Persson discuss the alleged distinction between

Platonic sight and insight. Finding the separation to be untenable, I will thereafter return to

Murdoch’s vision and in Section 2.3 reveal some obscure yet far-sighted dimensions of

Murdoch’s philosophy.

2.1 The Hierarchy of Senses Metaphors of sight have a conspicuous place in the philosophical tradition. In contrast,

metaphors of taste appear much less frequently, and becomes extensively discussed only in the

18th century. In Making Sense of Taste, philosopher Carolyn Korsmeyer seeks to explore the

reason for this relative invisibility of taste in the philosophical literature. As a starting point,

she similarly to Murdoch highlights the use of metaphors in philosophy: “Philosophers

occasionally take note of the degree to which their theories make use of metaphoric language.

Plato may have been the first to call attention to the heuristic use of sensory images to illuminate

the world of abstractions.”48 Korsmeyer here reemphasizes the role played by both metaphors

and by Plato in Western philosophy. She adds that the senses often are used to represent abstract

thought, a practice which is also seen in the labelling of the intellectual reawakening of the 17th

and 18th century, that is, the Enlightenment. The reillumination of the world of ideas was the

explicit goal of the Enlightenment, but the same historic period also saw the light of another

discussion, namely, the theorizing of taste.

Among the intellectuals of the 18th century, a burgeoning discussion on taste was taking

place. Enlightenment philosophers ranging from Voltaire and Kant to Hume and Burke are only

some of the thinkers who wrote encyclopedia entries or extensive treatises on the subject matter.

48 Korsmeyer, Making Sense of Taste, 38-39.

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However, as Korsmeyer elucidates, their texts do not concern eating: “gustatory taste is by and

large excluded.”49 Instead, the philosophical entries and essays on taste involve lengthy

discussions on properties of art, and attempts to single out the peculiar characteristics of beauty

and charm in contrast to the sublime.50 The concept of taste was during the Enlightenment thus

deployed more or less exclusively in relation to art and aesthetic judgment. But since taste in

the 18th century aesthetic context had close to nothing to do with the physical tongue, the

question must be posed: why was it that the sense of taste came to stand in for judgments of

art? It is in this evaluative and critical context that Korsmeyer introduces the Hierarchy of

Senses.

Korsmeyer concisely summarizes the hierarchy thus: “The foundational texts of Western

philosophy consistently rank… [the] senses in a hierarchy of importance.”51 Although the

hierarchy varies slightly throughout the historic accounts, at the time of the Enlightenment

vision had settled into the position of the most important sense, closely followed by sound.

Vision and sound were then contrasted to touch, smell, and taste—in that precise order. But

except for the standard explanation of the correspondence between the various judgments of art

and the diverse taste in food, the precise reason for why the lowest standing sense of taste came

to depict matters of art no academic scholarship has been able to fully reveal.52 However, by

looking a bit more broadly and including also contextual matters, Korsmeyer finds some

significant aspects.

One feature which singles out sight and sound from the other senses is their perceived

ability to operate at a distance to the physical body. Sight enables a human to look out into the

world, whereas taste only functions in direct proximity to the body proper. In addition, sound

operates at a distance in contrast to touch and smell which require more or less physical contact.

That the distant senses come in first in the hierarchy is not coincidental, as becomes clear when

also Korsmeyer returns to Plato. In Timaeus Plato writes:

The sight in my opinion is the source of the greatest benefit to us, for had we never seen the stars and the sun and the heaven, none of the words which we have spoken about the universe would ever have been uttered. But now the sight of day and night, and the months and the revolutions of the years have created number and have given us a conception of time, and the power of inquiring about the nature of the universe.53

49 Ibid. 38. 50 See, for example, Edmund Burke’s A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful. 51 Korsmeyer, Making Sense of Taste, 2. 52 Spicher, “Aesthetic Taste,” Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. 53 Korsmeyer, Making Sense of Taste, 16.

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Sight is by Plato seen as the sense that gives access to the universe, and in turn, to the invention

of words and numbers. Korsmeyer comments: “The stars are distinct from one another and can

be both numbered and named. Visual experiences of this sort thereby foster the development

of mathematics and language.”54 The study of astronomy, together with the creation of

geometry, gave the ancients means of investigating nature by measuring and designating

phenomena, practices which in turn gave rise to counting and classifying. Sight and distance

are in Plato’s view thus seen as that which enable distinction, designation, and categorization:

abilities central to contemporary natural science—and contemporary philosophy.

The capabilities Plato attributes to sight in Timaeus are very similar to approaches of

contemporary scientific knowledge. However, it is worth reflecting on what this view of

knowledge entails. Because if Plato’s description of the abilities of sight are setting the very

standards for scientific knowledge, does it not necessitate that the most accurate answers to the

questions asked in the search for true understanding will be given by means and connotations

of sight; clear terminology and numerical formulas will give the purest philosophical results?

Even beautiful results as beauty is a common criterion in judging the accuracy of mathematical

proofs.55 Compared to the impurity of art and pleasure, Plato approved of beauty if only under

the control of reason. But if philosophical reasoning and scientific knowledge rely on the

connotations of distance and sight, what does it mean for the knowledge claims of the senses

closer to the body?

The return to the body in this context brings out another essential feature to the sensorial

hierarchy. Because, as Korsmeyer points out, it is difficult to study the philosophical accounts

of the senses without noticing another detail. She writes:

On the most general level, the conventional ranking of two of the five senses as superior on epistemic, moral, and aesthetic grounds is congruent with several other basic presumptions employed widely in philosophy. As we see from the reasons Plato and Aristotle advance in their studies of sense experience, this hierarchy accord with the elevation of mind over body; of reason over sense; of man over beast and culture over nature. It also lines up with another ranked pair of concepts…: the elevation of male over female and with ‘masculine’ traits over those designated ‘feminine.’56

54 Ibid. 55 One example is found in Bertrand Russel’s Mysticism and Logic page 60: “Mathematics, rightly viewed, possesses not only truth, but supreme beauty—a beauty cold and austere, like that of sculpture, without appeal to any part of our weaker nature, without the gorgeous trappings of painting or music, yet sublimely pure, and capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show. The true spirit of delight, the exaltation, the sense of being more than Man, which is the touchstone of the highest excellence, is to be found in mathematics as surely as poetry.” 56 Korsmeyer, Making Sense of Taste, 30.

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Korsmeyer connects the Hierarchy of Senses to some of the most persistent dualisms of

the Western philosophical tradition following in the footprints of the ancient and cartesian

mind-body distinction. Indeed, once brought to attention, mind-body, reason-sense, man-beast,

culture-nature, masculine-feminine, as well as active-passive and objective-subjective are

omnipresent binaries in epistemology, ethics and aesthetics. Korsmeyer further emphasizes the

hierarchal ordering at work within these dualism themselves: “[w]ith many of the binary

relations, the first term designates the proper ruler over the second.”57 Bringing out the inherent

order of the concepts, the privileged position assigned to mind, reason, man, culture and

masculinity lines up neatly with the Platonic view on philosophy discussed in this thesis so far.

And as Korsmeyer states, stressing this dualistic order present since ancient philosophy is not

“just” a rhetorical point:

It is significant that there is a gender dimension to the presumptions to be challenged here, for gendered concepts are often components of tenacious intellectual frameworks. In moral theory, philosophy of science, metaphysics, and epistemology, feminists have repeatedly traced a taproot back to the concept of reason, that faculty of the mind that both distinguishes human from non-human activity and supposedly elevates male over female. The result for many epistemologies is that the paradigmatic rational knower is male, while the female is regarded as more governed by the senses and by emotion.58

Korsmeyer brings to light assumptions operating in the shadows of the philosophical discourse

on reason. She has elsewhere discussed the gendered dimensions of philosophy and aesthetics

and how the philosophical uses of the metaphors of taste reveal the neglect of its gustatory –

bodily – namesake in order to instead be employed in discussions of art (that is, fine art by male

artists and not female household crafts).59 The contrast between the sense of taste and its

metaphoric use thus reveals an internal hierarchy in which its aesthetic use is to be as much

separated from its bodily origin as possible—a body of drives and pleasure which since

antiquity has been coded feminine in contrast to the masculine soul’s capacity for intellectual

progress.

As seen here, critical investigations into the context of the philosophical metaphors reveal

dubious epistemological assumptions. And although there to this day are fewer female

professional philosophers, it is no longer considered a valid argument to refer to sensitivity or

emotionality in declaring women worse rational thinkers than men. The gendered aspect of

reason, and gender itself, are still passionately debated topics among certain intellectuals, but

57 Ibid. 32. 58 Ibid. 30. 59 See Korsmeyer’s Gender and Aesthetics: An Introduction.

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nevertheless, it is certainly rare today to find notions such as Aristotle’s, who “held that the

gaze of menstruating women clouds mirrors and other reflecting surfaces.” 60 Or, as he put it:

“‘For in the case of very bright mirrors, when women during their menstrual periods look into

the mirror, the surface of the mirror becomes a sort of bloodshot cloud; and if the mirror is new,

it is not easy to wipe off such a stain, while if it is old it is easier.’”61 Wittiness aside, a lot of

work has been done on the complexities concerning the Female Gaze,62 and in passing, it is

interesting to notice that the Greek mythological figure of Medusa is a woman whose gaze one

must avoid at all costs.

Korsmeyer’s work included, feminist studies have added new perspectives to the quest

for, and love of, wisdom—new aspects which are crucial in revealing further presumptions

regarding the firmness of contemporary philosophical theories and methods. As Korsmeyer

summarizes: “Philosophy contains some gaps that are only now visible, having been previously

hidden because the assumptions about what constitutes a philosophical question were so widely

shared as to have become invisible.”63 Korsmeyer’s investigation shows that the historic

development of contemporary philosophy have inherited assumptions not always visible, on

the contrary, aspects which appear first in context, and she highlights the need to historicize

and contextualize philosophies of the past in an attempt to recover hidden assumptions and to

make fuller sense of their meanings. However, Korsmeyer’s feminist work also reveals an

understanding influenced by the present intellectual climate, and if contemporary readings are

capable of revealing aspects taken for granted at previous times, it is just as likely that modern

readings can be blind to other substantial dimensions within historic reasoning. The perspective

rendered by Korsmeyer onto the metaphors of taste and the Hierarchy of Senses shows that it

is necessary to complicate the Platonic philosophy presented in this thesis so far.

2.2 Platonic Sight and Insight The essay “Mot en ny Platonbild?,”64 by historian of ideas Mats Persson is a testament to the

myriad of readings (and footnotes) that the Platonic dialogues have encouraged throughout the

60 Korsmeyer, Making Sense of Taste, 32. 61 Ibid. 62 See, for example, Laura Mulvey’s “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” and Hélène Cixous’ “The Laugh of the Medusa.” 63 Korsmeyer, Making Sense of Taste, 37. 64 English translation: “Towards a new Platonic image?.” As Persson’s text is in Swedish the translations hereafter are my own.

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Western philosophical tradition. With its more contemporary scope, Persson particularly

surveys the so called dramatic readings. Dramatic interpretations have existed ever since

antiquity but gained real recognition in the 1970s through the influence of philosophers such as

Leo Strauss and Hans-Georg Gadamer.65 He characterizes the dramatic approach in stating that

“[m]any of the dramatic interpretations share an emphasis on the dialogues’ depiction of

philosophy in lived life. In the Platonic writings there are not only arguments and theses, but

also portraits of personalities and characters that philosophizes.”66 Persson thus highlights the

dramatic reading’s emphasis on the dialogues’ immersion in lived situations, and in addition to

the ideas discussed, their attention to the figures who are doing the actual reasoning.

To the dramatic interpreters, the character philosophizing is important. Yet, in addition

to the people, the dramatic setting of the dialogues is also seen as significant because it provides

the very scene and specific context in which the philosophical discussions are taking place.

Persson here refers to Greek scholar Michael Stokes in underlining the contextual aspect: “The

Socratic question-answer logic does not aim for propositions or deductions of universal validity.

On the contrary, Stokes claims that the staged Platonic dialectic always has a connection to a

concrete context.”67 Stokes stresses the centrality of the particular case in the Platonic writings

and how the dialogues are not concerned with validity in any syntactic sense. As both time and

place as well as the characters’ personalities make a difference to the dramatic interpretations,

also the medium – the dialogue format in itself – becomes significant. Persson here turns to

History of Philosophy professor Michael Frede:

[T]he dialogue format is closely related to Plato’s conviction that it is difficult or impossible to speak as an expert on ethical and political value judgements. The dialogue makes it possible to present points of view and arguments without posing as an expert, and one can here only learn something indirectly. Frede claims that philosophy to Plato was not about arguments, but about a way of life, and this is the reason for why the philosopher should refrain from giving straight answers: the philosopher must not become a new kind of expert. This purpose encompasses both the depicted relation between Socrates and his interlocutors, and the one between Plato and his audience. It is in this way that the dialogues, according to Frede, aims to show us what philosophy is.68

Frede argues that the conception of an expert in any pure and objective sense, when it

comes to moral and political questions, is to Plato inconceivable. Plato’s largest concern was

how to live a life guided by virtue, the Good, and philosophy on this view has not to do with

65 Persson, “Mot en ny Platonbild?,” 12. 66 Ibid. 15. 67 Ibid. 24. 68 Ibid. 29 (emphasis in original).

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theoretical expertise. On the contrary, if philosophy to Plato indeed was a way of life, then the

dialogues are not supposed to only help the student of philosophy become a better thinker—it

is to help the student become a better person. And this emphasis on the living person is,

according to Frede, precisely the reason for the dialogues being written as such: the dialogue

format enables discussions of moral dilemmas situated in life and it allows the reader to take

part in the conversation; the dialogues take place between Socrates and his interlocutors, but

also between Plato and the person studying. It is essential that Frede puts this idea in the

Wittgensteinian phrasing of philosophy’s ultimate task being to show, as opposed to tell, and I

will return to this below.

Philosopher Kenneth Sayre is another scholar discussed by Persson who similarly to

Frede thinks that the dialogues, in contrast to theoretical thought experiments, should be thought

of as case specific thought exercises. Sayre argues that the dialogues are not illustrating abstract

moral dilemmas to be hypothetically discussed, instead, the dialogues are only setting the scene

from which philosophical reflection hence must be performed. Sayre claims that the dialogues

only point out the direction of the path the philosophy student then has to tread for themselves.

In Persson’s interpretation this formative role of the dialogues is further stressed: “The

dialogues aim to discipline, train, and direct the soul towards the search for higher insights.

They are designed to sharpen the ability to judge and discern, and with time to give rise to the

sudden insight that births wisdom.”69 Sayre’s view depicts the dialogues as maps only giving

direction to the way the pupil of philosophy has to travel in their search for the Good. The

dialogues as thought exercises are thus meant to train and prepare the student for the sudden

moments of insight which are what gives birth to wisdom.

It is in discussing the journey that the lover of wisdom has to travel and the solely guiding

role played by the dialogues that the term insight – in the sense of unmediated understanding –

appears. And as Persson continues to reiterate Sayre’s argument of the high demands the

dialogues put on the student and the very active engagement required in the study, he further

highlights the necessity of being able to perceive both rhetorical and logical aspects in order to

“‘open’ the routes one has to travel to reach the end goal.”70 According to Sayre’s dramatic

reading, the student philosophizing their way to wisdom needs to be able to consider both the

argument and its delivery to be able to open the paths for insight.

Openness is deemed crucial in Sayre’s depiction of the Platonic journey to insight, and it

contrasts with Wittgenstein’s view on morality as something supernatural, of being beyond the

69 Ibid. 34. 70 Ibid.

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limits of language in a primordial sphere of non-discursive comprehension. As previously

argued, Murdoch saw in her time an increasing inability of some moral philosophy to handle

that which is not available to analysis. Wittgenstein’s view on ethics can, in this sense, be seen

as similarly closed in that it ostensibly considers morals to be beyond what can be logically

captured in words. This version of Wittgenstein’s view Sayre also finds in Plato as he reminds

the reader of the Platonic critique regarding the insufficiency of the word:

The Seventh Letter and Phaedrus criticizes not only the written, but also the spoken word. It is true that both texts begin with and focus mostly on text, but they give the same fundamental criticism also to verbal accounts; neither of the two are the same as insight.71

Here insight is understood as an indirect understanding taking place outside the realm of written

and spoken language. But as Persson explains Sayre’s claim, the deficiency of this interpretation

of Plato begins to become perceptible:

Sayre attributes Plato the notion that all language is too closely connected with perceptible images to be able to give an adequate expression of philosophical insight. Among other things, he points to Plato’s frequent use of sight metaphors in depicting what real knowledge is and claims that these tries to catch a kind of non-discursive insight. Starting in e.g. The Seventh Letter, Sayre interprets Plato’s concept of knowledge as meaning an immediate and non-verbal insight of being or the Forms (eide).72

Returning to eide – the Greek concept used by Plato in discussing the Forms and which

etymologically gives visual connotations73 – Sayre refers to the Platonic metaphor of vision to

illustrate insight as a non-discursive and immediate understanding, compared to the impure and

soiled images of knowledge as it exists through language. Recalling here the Divided Line,

insight would thus be the knowledge of the highest fourth segment (noesis) reached with the

aid of the abstract reasoning of the third section (dianoia) and contrasted to the visual illusions

of the lower two parts (pistis and eikasia).

But given what has been discussed in this thesis so far, a few complicating objections

must be raised to this view of pure non-discursive and undepicted insight. First, de Man’s

examination of Locke’s enlightened investigation into human understanding exemplified the

struggle philosophy has gone through to rinse itself from both images and language. De Man’s

reading showed that Locke found the latter to be impossible. And as Murdoch further

illustrated, the role of metaphor in philosophy is to this day not unanimously settled. Second,

71 Ibid. 33. 72 Ibid. (emphasis added). 73 Ibid. 38. See also de Man, “Epistemology of Metaphor,” 17-18.

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Korsmeyer’s examination showed some of the dubious consequences inherited in the historic

and cultural associations of knowledge in terms of abstract and pure. One example was the view

of women as being of lesser intellectual ability—a view which is, in most circles, no longer

considered valid. And third, a religious interpretation of insight, such as in Wittgenstein’s view

of immediate understanding outside language, is here insufficient because even a person

claiming to have undergone a purely spiritual revelation inherits a historically and culturally

shaped understanding through which the experience is perceived. Adding here Murdoch’s point

of Plato’s continuous return to metaphor in depicting his ideas demonstrates that referring to

Plato in explaining insight to mean an abstract enlightening understanding without words and

images, is simply inadequate.

But if Platonic insight is not non-discursive and not undepicted, what is it then? This is

where Persson brings in Greek philologist Holger Thesleff’s “tvåplansmodel.”74 By his model,

Thesleff argues that the Theory of Forms should be seen as only one instant of Plato’s

fundamentally double view which runs through the dialogues from beginning to end. Persson

explains Thesleff’s “two plane model” in the following:

[The model] means that existence is seen as a unit consisting of one higher and more stable plane that is graspable to the intellect, and one lower plane characterized by variation and plurality which corresponds to perception. This sounds confusingly similar to the classical understanding of the Theory of Forms, but Thesleff means that [the model] regards a less strictly held vision, an intuitive image… Thesleff rejects the notion that this would entail a two world theory, and means that the two planes must be seen as two sides of the same entity. He classifies the position as an overall monism with two planes or aspects, a dichotomy that is found in all areas of reality of which Plato mostly concerns himself with three: kosmos, polis and psyche.75

Though at a first glance looking exactly the same, Thesleff’s model differs from the classical

interpretation of the Theory of Forms in that instead of considering the Forms to exist in a

separate ideal world, the Forms are in Thesleff’s understanding never disconnected from the

whole; with this view, the Forms are essential, but they are not detached from the particulars.

This means that what becomes visible at a distance is only a partial image. Thesleff claims that

this view is evident in all of Plato’s main examples, the universe, the state, and the mind, all of

which functions as greater wholes consisting of inseparable parts.

In Persson’s explanation of Thesleff’s double view and the inseparability between the

parts and the whole, another aspect is central. Persson writes that Thesleff’s model is “a less

74 English translation: “two plane model.” 75 Ibid. 36 (emphasis in original).

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strictly held vision.” This looser approach, or softer awareness, sounds very similar to Sayre’s

previously argued claim, that is, the necessity for openness in gaining insight. The ability to be

open, and to remain open, is extremely difficult to explain and to defend in the current

philosophical climate of argumentative and formal clarity. And I want to argue that part of the

difficulty in conceiving the Theory of Forms in Thesleff’s sense, or in understanding what

Socrates meant by his statement that “nothing is one ‘all by itself,’” may be partly due to a

closed contemporary philosophy focused on logical or syntactical validity in the name of

academic rigor.

For without the ability to pause and refrain from pressing Thesleff’s model into the

preestablished structure in which one has been taught to view Platonic philosophy, it will likely

be difficult to understand how something can both move and be at rest at the same time. And

this ability to think about how one thinks, how one lives, and how one’s thinking and living

becomes shaped according to certain forms, is increasingly diminishing in a philosophy only

able to handle direct clarity striving to meet logical or scientific ideals. What may be lost here

is the understanding that there may be other ways of thinking which are not clear, and which

are not logical, but are still worthy of consideration.

The relevance of this point goes deep into the nature of language itself. For if language is

no longer allowed to be simply divided into either formal or natural and always verbal—what

does that mean for the division between discursive and non-discursive communication? What

does it mean for the all-pervading division between content and form? And what does it mean

for the difference between sight and insight? What if philosophy of language – or philosophy

that uses language – is forced to acknowledge body language, dress codes, traffic lights – even

– art, as language? What does that mean to a philosophy striving for clarity? In Persson’s

dramatic survey, the Platonic dialogues are seen as the medium for indirect communication, and

with Thesleff’s addition, a medium that is inseparable from the communication itself. As

Murdoch notices, the medium becomes increasingly explicit to Plato thinking as he in his later

work attempts to solve the issue of the one and the many by the demiurge, the creative agent

negotiating between the Forms and the particulars.76 Plato’s introduction of a mediating aspect

invokes doubt on the view that Plato considered the medium to soil the transfer, and it opens

for the interpretation that perhaps it is the meeting enabled by the medium that creates the

contact necessary for understanding to take place at all.

76 Murdoch, “The Fire and the Sun,” 429.

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I previously stated that it is dangerous to engage with Plato if one wants to stay on track

in a philosophical argument. I would now like to modify that claim, and argue that it is the very

openness of the dialogues that provides the possibility for philosophical insight, the possibility

for actually philosophizing. In the dramatic reading of Plato, the dialogues are only guides to

the path that each and every pupil of philosophy has to travel in their quest for wisdom.

Although the pilgrim must keep treading, they must not forget from whence they came, as

Murdoch wrote: “The details of what happens in the cave are to be studied seriously; and the

‘lower half’ of the story is not just an explanatory image of the ‘higher half,’ but is significant

in itself.”77 Because even though the destination of the Allegory of the Cave is the

enlightenment of pure sunlight, the journey itself is essential. And although the Divided Line

involves climbing, it is not analogous to a ladder to throw away; each step is important and

must not be lost on the climb upwards. This, I argue, Murdoch understood, and this is the topic

of the final section.

In this section, I have with the thinkers presented in Persson’s essay sought to complicate

the Platonic use of vision. I have discussed the dramatic interpretations of the dialogues and the

importance placed on the dialogue format itself. I have argued that philosophy to the dramatic

reader is a journey the student has to make on their own, and that the dialogues only function

as maps or guides. With the input of Thesleff, I then opened for an alternative interpretation of

the Theory of Forms which does not accept the separation between the Forms and the particulars

as the classical view would have it. I argued that the possible incomprehension in front of, and

the unphilosophical air of, such a claim is perhaps due to a closed contemporary philosophy

preoccupied with a logical or syntactic clarity. It is the purpose of the final section of this thesis

to show that this understanding is shared by Murdoch, and that it is as a redemption that

Murdoch looks to art.

2.3 Revision: Murdoch’s Vision Given the perspectives added in the second part of this thesis, it is by now necessary to revise

Murdoch’s metaphors of vision. Murdoch philosophized in the 20th century which involved

other philosophical requirements, and I have argued, other ways of thinking, than what was

possibly the case in Ancient Greece. Recollecting the dramatic aspects of the Platonic writings

with their colorful characters and detailed scenes, their developing intellectual journeys, and

77 Ibid. 389.

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the very active engagement required of the reader, indeed, to some contemporary philosophers,

the dialogues more resemble fiction than do they philosophy. In favoring a more Platonic style

and image-based approach to morality compared to her contemporaries, Murdoch seems to

consider the literary and imaginative aspects crucial.78 She is at least clear with what she

perceives as the shortcomings of an objective and precise language when it comes to ethics:

Scientific language tries to be impersonal and exact and yet accessible for purposes of teamwork; and the degree of accessibility can be decided in relation to definite practical goals. Moral language which relates to a reality infinitely more complex and various than that of science if often unavoidably idiosyncratic and inaccessible.

Words are the most subtle symbols which we possess and our human fabric depends on them. The living and radical nature of language is something which we forget at our peril… But the most essential and fundamental aspect of culture is the study of literature, since this is an education on how to picture and understand human situations. We are men and we are moral agents before we are scientists, and the place of science in human life must be discussed in words.79

Murdoch considers words to be the most sophisticated of symbols in human culture—a claim

that echoes in her understanding of the foundational role of metaphor to philosophy and human

consciousness. Murdoch further means that this live quality of language is something we easily

forget. Yet, to Murdoch, literature is a medium ready to cope with this unfixed meaning of

words. This is because literature is an investigation of the pictures we draw to understand the

human condition and the circumstances in which we as humans find ourselves. Literature, and

I will argue below, art (in a general and ordinary sense) has an ability, or perhaps is an ability,

to approach something in a less clear way.

Literature is to Murdoch the picturing of the human condition, a picturing fundamentally

necessary for discussing morality. As such, art is a medium to morals. This understanding of art

as a medium Murdoch also finds in Platonic philosophy, and given his ostensive view of art,

Murdoch finds this seemingly in contrast to his own intentions:

The most obvious paradox in the problem under consideration is that Plato is a great artist… He kept emphasising the imageless remoteless of the Good, yet kept returning in his exposition to the most elaborate uses of art. The dialogue form itself is artful and indirect and abounds in ironical and playful devices.80

78 As stated in the Introduction, I will not discuss whether Murdoch herself wanted to separate her philosophy from her fiction. Nevertheless, it is pertinent to underscore that my reading of Murdoch’s understanding of metaphor in ethics in some aspects appears to go against her ostensive view of philosophy as seen in, for example, “Literature and Philosophy.” 79 Murdoch, “The Idea of Perfection,” 33. 80 Murdoch, “The Fire and the Sun,” 462.

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Murdoch again highlights Plato’s reliance on images, and she also emphasizes his, to modern

eyes, artful and dramatized way of philosophizing. Certainly, neither Plato nor Murdoch seek

to define properties of good art, yet both are fundamentally concerned with the quest for the

Good through artful means: the words and concepts – the symbols and pictures – negotiated in

search for virtue. And this undefined and unfixed treatment of moral discussions is absolutely

central to Murdoch because, as she writes: “Moral concepts do not move about within a hard

world set up by science and logic. The