Iris Murdoch claims that “clear vision is a result of moral imagination and moral effort.” Our experience of the world can be blurred by egoism, inattentiveness, and other failings. I ask how we distinguish clear vision from distorted vision. Murdoch’s texts appeal to four factors: (A) attention; (B) unselfing; (C) a form of conceptual articulacy; and (D) love. I ask three questions about these standards: - Are these standards directed at the same goal? (For example, are they all geared (...) toward securing purely epistemic goals?) - Are these standards criterial for improvements in vision? (That is, does the presence of some combination of (A)-(D) constitute or guarantee better vision?) - Does Murdoch think that there’s a single best form of vision? (Such as the one attained by the person who manifests (A)-(D)?) In the secondary literature, the typical answers to these questions are: yes, yes, yes. But I give different answers: no, no, no. (shrink)

In Paradise Lost, Satan’s first sight of Eve in Eden renders him “Stupidly good”: his state is one of admirable yet inarticulate responsiveness to reasons. Turning from fiction to real life, I argue that this is an important moral phenomenon, but one that has limits. The essay examines three questions about the relation between having a reason and saying what it is – between normativity and articulacy. Is it possible to have and respond to morally relevant reasons without being (...) able to articulate them? Can moral inarticulacy be good, and if so, what is the value of moral articulacy? And thirdly, can moral philosophy help us to be good? I argue that morality has an inarticulacy-accepting part, an articulacy-encouraging part, an articulacy-surpassing part and an articulacy-discouraging part. Along the way, an account is proposed of what it is to respond to the reasons that make up the substance of morality. (shrink)

Emphasizing the importance of language is a key characteristic of philosophical reflection in general and of bioethics in particular. Rather than trying to eliminate the historicity and ambiguity of language, a continental approach to bioethics will make conscious use of it, for instance by closely studying the history of the key terms we employ in bioethical debates. Continental bioethics entails a focus on the historical vicissitudes of the key signifiers of the bioethical vocabulary, urging us to study the history of (...) terms such as “bioethics,” “autonomy,” “privacy,” and “consensus.” Instead of trying to define such terms as clearly and unequivocally as possible, a continental approach rather requires us to take a step backwards, tracing the historical backdrop of the words currently in vogue. By comparing the original meanings of terms with their current meanings, and by considering important moments of transition in their history, obfuscated dimensions of meaning can be retrieved. Thus, notwithstanding a number of methodological challenges involved in etymological exercises, they may foster moral articulacy and enhance our ability to come to terms with moral dilemmas we are facing. (shrink)