Craig Taylor

This essay explores the treatment of the relation between nature (phusis) and norm or convention (nomos) in Democritus and in certain Platonic dialogues. In his physical theory Democritus draws a sharp contrast between the real nature of things and their representation via human conventions, but in his political and ethical theory he maintains that moral conventions are grounded in the reality of human nature. Plato builds on that insight in the account of the nature of morality in the myth in the Protagoras. That provides material for a defense of morality against the attacks by Callicles in the Gorgias and Thrasymachus and Glaucon in the Republic, all of whom seek to use the nature-convention contrast to devalue morality.

Bernard Williams distinguishes moral incapacities – incapacities that are themselves an expression of the moral life – from mere psychological ones in terms of deliberation. Against Williams I claim there are examples of such moral incapacity where no possible deliberation is involved – that an agent's incapacity may be a primitive feature or fact about their life. However Michael Clark argues that my claim here leaves the distinction between moral and psychological incapacity unexplained, and that an adequate understanding of the kind of examples I suggest must involve at least some implicit reference to deliberation. In this paper I attempt to meet Clark's objection and further clarify my account of primitive moral incapacities by considering an example from Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn. What this example shows, I argue, is how our characterization of an agent's response as a moral incapacity turns not on the idea of deliberation but on the way certain primitive incapacities for action are connected to a larger pattern of response in an agent's life, a pattern of response that itself helps to constitute our conception of that agent's character and the moral life more generally

While a number of philosophers have argued recently that it is through our emotional response to certain literary works that we might achieve particular moral understanding, what has not been discussed in detail in this connection are works which generate conflicting responses in the reader; which is to say literary works in which there is significant element of ambiguity. Consider Joseph Conrad's novel Lord Jim. I argue that in making sense of our potentially conflicting responses to this novel, and specifically to its central character Jim, we may gain a richer sense of the ways in which literature may contribute to moral understanding – in this case by contributing to an understanding of our own character, its blind spots and its limitations.

In this article I examine an example of sympathy -- the actions of one woman who rescued Jews during their persecution in Nazi Europe. I argue that this woman''s account of her actions here suggests that sympathy is a primitive response to the suffering of another. By primitive here I mean: first, that these responses are immediate and unthinking; and second, that these responses are explanatorily basic, that they cannot be explained in terms of some more fundamental feature of human nature -- such as some particular desire or sentiment that we possess. My conclusion is then that our sympathetic responses are themselves partially constitutive of our conception of what is to be a human being.

In his influential paper 'The Conscience of Huckleberry Finn', Jonathan Bennett suggests that Huck's failure to turn in the runaway slave Jim as his conscience — a conscience distorted by racism — tells him he ought to is not merely right but also praiseworthy. James Montmarquet however argues against what he sees here as Bennett's 'anti-intellectualism' in moral psychology that insofar as Huck lacks and so fails to act on the moral belief that he should help Jim his action is not praiseworthy. In this paper I suggest that we should reject Montmarquet's claim here; that the case of Huck Finn indicates rather how many of our everyday moral responses to others do not and need not depend on any particular moral beliefs we hold about them or their situation

Peter Winch's famous argument in "The Universalizability of Moral Judgments" that moral judgments are not always universalizable is widely thought to involve an essentially sceptical claim about the limitations of moral theories and moral theorising more generally. In this paper I argue that responses to Winch have generally missed the central positive idea upon which Winch's argument is founded: that what is right for a particular agent to do in a given situation may depend on what is and is not morally possible for them. I then defend the existence of certain genuine moral necessities and impossibilities in order to show how certain first-person moral judgements may be essentially personal.

Mrs. Digby told me that when she lived in London with her sister, Mrs. Brooke, they were every now and then honoured by the visits of Dr. Johnson. He called on them one day soon after the publication of his immortal dictionary. The two ladies paid him due compliments on the occasion. Amongst other topics of praise they very much commended the omission of all naughty words. 'What! my dears! then you have been looking for them?' said the moralist. The ladies, confused at being thus caught, dropped the subject of the dictionary

C. C. W. Taylor presents a selection of his essays in ancient philosophy, drawn from forty years of writings on the subject. The central theme of the volume is the moral psychology of Plato and Aristotle, with a special focus on pleasure and related concepts, an area central to Greek ethical thought. Taylor also discusses Socrates and the Greek atomists, showing how Plato's ethics grows out of the thought of Socrates, and that pleasure is also a central concept for the atomists. Pleasure, Mind, and Soul provides a fascinating survey of a range of important topics in the work of some of the greatest ancient philosophers, and which remain the subject of lively philosophical debate today

From his own day to the present Socrates has presented a challenge to philosophers and commentators, a challenge at once of a puzzle to be solved and of an ideal to be continually reshaped in response to the demands of shifting historical perspectives. Alexander Nehamas’s intriguing book combines discussion of this ongoing process, specifically of responses to Socrates by Montaigne, Nietzsche, and Foucault, with exemplification of it via his own response to Socrates. The focus of these responses is specified in the book’s title. The Socrates to whom Nehamas himself responds is a figure for whom philosophy is the art of living, that is to say a figure who uses argument and debate as a means to the identification and thereby the achievement of the constituents of the best human life. And the writers on Socrates whom he discusses, sharing that conception of the role of philosophy, pursue it with more or less explicit reference to its pursuit by Socrates.

I will consider what literature might add to moral thought and understanding as distinct from moral philosophy as it is commonly understood. My argument turns on a distinction between two conceptions of moral thought. One in which the point of moral thought is that it should issue in moral judgement leading to action; the other in which it is concerned also with what Iris Murdoch calls ‘the texture of a man’s being or the nature of his personal vision’. Drawing on this second conception and Dostoevsky’s The Idiot, I argue that the question ‘what ought I to do?’ can itself distort moral understanding—that this question may undermine the connection between understanding human life and living a human life. I then argue that insofar as literature is concerned with what is possible within a human life, it has a distinct contribution to make to moral thought, in particular to our reflections on the nature of moral thought itself

It may seem to follow from Peter Winch's claim in ‘The Universalizability of Moral Judgements’ that a certain class of first‐person moral judgments are not universalizable that such judgments cannot be given a cognitivist interpretation. But Winch's argument does not involve the denial of moral cognitivism and in this paper I show how such judgements may be cognitively determined yet not universalizable. Drawing on an example from James Joyce's The Dead, I suggest that in the kind of situation Winch envisages where we properly return a different moral judgement to another agent it may be that we accept their judgement is right for them because we recognise that it is determined by values that, simply because of the particular people we are, we could never know or understand in just the same way.

abstract In this paper I consider the nature of the purported vice of moralism by examining two examples that, I suggest, exemplify this vice: the first from Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter; the second from David Owen's account of his experience as European negotiator between the warring parties in the former Yugoslavia. I argue that in different ways both these examples show the kind of human weakness or failure that is involved in the most extreme version of moralism, a weakness that involves an inability to see or acknowledge those one seeks to judge as real, morally accountable, human beings

Moralism involves the distortion of moral thought, the distortion of reflection and judgement. It is a vice, and one to which many - from the philosopher to the media pundit to the politician - are highly susceptible. This book examines the nature of moralism in specific moral judgements and the ways in which moral philosophy and theories about morality can themselves become skewed by this vice. This book ranges across a wide range of topics: the problem of the demandingness of morality; the conflict between moral and other values; the contrast between the practice of moral philosophy and other modes of moral thought or reflection; moralism in the media; and, moralism in the public discussion of literature and art. This highly original and provocative book will be of interest to students of philosophy, psychology, theology and media, and to anyone who takes a serious interest in contemporary morality

From his own day to the present Socrates has presented a challenge to philosophers and commentators, a challenge at once of a puzzle to be solved and of an ideal to be continually reshaped in response to the demands of shifting historical perspectives. Alexander Nehamas’s intriguing book combines discussion of this ongoing process, specifically of responses to Socrates by Montaigne, Nietzsche, and Foucault, with exemplification of it via his own response to Socrates. The focus of these responses is specified in the book’s title. The Socrates to whom Nehamas himself responds is a figure for whom philosophy is the art of living, that is to say a figure who uses argument and debate as a means to the identification and thereby the achievement of the constituents of the best human life. And the writers on Socrates whom he discusses, sharing that conception of the role of philosophy, pursue it with more or less explicit reference to its pursuit by Socrates.

Bernard Williams distinguishes moral incapacities – incapacities that are themselves an expression of the moral life – from mere psychological ones in terms of deliberation. Against Williams I claim there are examples of such moral incapacity where no possible deliberation is involved – that an agent's incapacity may be a primitive feature or fact about their life. However Michael Clark argues that my claim here leaves the distinction between moral and psychological incapacity unexplained, and that an adequate understanding of the kind of examples I suggest must involve at least some implicit reference to deliberation. In this paper I attempt to meet Clark's objection and further clarify my account of primitive moral incapacities by considering an example from Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn. What this example shows, I argue, is how our characterization of an agent's response as a moral incapacity turns not on the idea of deliberation but on the way certain primitive incapacities for action are connected to a larger pattern of response in an agent's life, a pattern of response that itself helps to constitute our conception of that agent's character and the moral life more generally.