“To do philosophy is to explore one’s own temperament and yet at the same time to discover the truth.”
The opening sentence of Iris Murdoch’s classic essay “On ‘God’ and ‘Good’” is as powerful as it is intriguing – as you’d expect from a philosopher who was also a prolific and successful novelist. Though Murdoch does not name anyone specifically, her bold assertion challenges a litany of thinkers who have held that philosophy is or should be a matter of impersonal investigation.
For Murdoch, however, philosophy concerns itself with us as individuals and with the urgent questions of our times. One such question is how to handle ‘the collapse of religion’ against the growing dominance of science. In “On ‘God’ and ‘Good’”, Murdoch worries that we might be losing something important as religious experience declines. It is not that Murdoch is troubled by lower church attendance – though she was fiercely opposed to changing the language of the Book of Common Prayer in the Eighties. Rather, she wonders whether it is possible to create a secular notion of prayer as attention to a Good rather than God. She also proclaims that we need a moral philosophy in which love, a notion so long maligned by philosophers, is again made central.
Love, as conceived by Murdoch, is not a panacea for all moral problems. Nor does it offer an easy answer to the question how we can make ourselves morally better. Love is ambiguous. It can be selfish. Murdoch’s novels provide ample examples of characters whose love is possessive and even destructive. In some cases, they literally lock the object of their love away in an inner chamber, as Charles Arrowby does to the love of youth in Murdoch’s Booker Prize Winner The Sea, the Sea (1978).
Sometimes, love does not even come into it, as when, for instance, we simply need to pay our bills. But what Murdoch objects to is moral philosophy’s attention to such matters at the exclusion of everything else. We are not always rational decision makers. Often when we choose, the die has already been cast.
For this reason, Murdoch tries to move the focus away from the moments of decision and towards the inner life – the domain once catered to by religion. Religious practices, as simple as lighting a candle, were designed to redirect energies that are often hidden to us, and in their absence, Murdoch feared that the inner life would be explained away by the sciences.
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