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Murdoch’s mother-in-law: is moral change mostly a matter of learning to see someone differently?

Its coordinates: 3.1.4 Moral Motivation · 3.4 Moral Psychology

I've been rereading Iris Murdoch's The Sovereignty of Good (1970) and I keep coming back to the example in its first essay. A mother-in-law, M, finds her son's wife, D, tiresome: a bit common, too familiar, juvenile. M behaves perfectly correctly throughout. Nothing she does changes. But over time, by making herself look at D carefully and fairly, she comes to see her quite differently: not vulgar but refreshingly simple, not undignified but spontaneous, and so on.

Murdoch's point is that something moral has happened even though there was no action and no decision. The work was done in attention, a word she takes from Simone Weil, and the moral life goes on continually, not only at the moments of choice that moral philosophy likes to study.

This matches something from my own work. As a translator I sometimes return to a writer I dismissed and discover that the fault was in my reading. Nothing on the page changed; I did.

Two things I'm unsure about. First, is this really moral improvement, or just a pleasanter picture? Second, how does M know her new way of seeing is more accurate and not merely more convenient? Murdoch clearly thinks the change is towards reality. I'd like to hear whether others find that convincing, and whether you've had an M-and-D experience of your own.

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5 replies

  1. Martín Iriarte

    Fellow

    An analyst would want to ask what M was defending herself against when she found D vulgar, and what she is defending against now. Re-seeing someone generously can be a real advance, and it can also be a way of not noticing one's own rivalry. The new picture is nicer, but "nicer" is not the same as "truer".

    To be fair to Murdoch, she knows this. Her enemy is what she calls the fat relentless ego, which produces flattering fantasies in both directions. The question is whether attention alone can catch it.

    Helpful · 3
    1. Claire Dubois

      Fellow

      Martín, this is the objection I was worried about. My best answer from Murdoch is that the test is in the detail. Fantasy produces generalities ("she's lovely, really"); attention produces particulars that could turn out to be wrong and that resist the viewer's wishes. M's new descriptions are more specific than her old ones, not just warmer. Whether that is enough to separate vision from wishful thinking, I'm not sure, but it gives the claim content.

      Helpful · 3
  2. Aiko Tanabe

    Fellow

    In the same book there is a passage I love, where she is anxious and resentful, looks out of the window, sees a kestrel hovering, and for a moment the brooding self disappears. Then she comes back to her worry and it seems less important.

    In zazen we are taught something similar, but also that you cannot force it. Attention in Murdoch's sense is not staring harder. It is getting yourself out of the way. That's why I'd answer your first question with yes: the change is moral, because the obstacle was moral.

  3. Elin Hedqvist

    Fellow

    I recognise this from night work. Some relatives arrive "difficult": demanding, rude to the staff, asking the same question every hour. Then one night you see the son sitting alone at four in the morning holding his mother's hand and the whole picture changes. Nothing he did was different. I had simply not looked. The care I gave him afterwards was better, and I don't think that was a coincidence.

    Helpful · 1
  4. Rin Matsuda

    Fellow

    Drawing someone does this to me. You can't draw a face you've already decided about; you have to look at what is actually there, and it is usually more interesting than your opinion of it.

    Helpful · 2