Ralph Cohen and the Dialogue between Philosophy and Literature

Abstract

Ralph Cohen and the Dialogue between Philosophy and Literature Martha Nussbaum (bio) Philosophy and literature have had a very uneasy relationship throughout the Western philosophical tradition. Already in the Republic (c. 380–370 BCE), Plato's Socrates refers to a "quarrel of long standing" between the poets and the philosophers—which he then pursues, expressing both a deep love of literary art and a reluctance to admit it into the instructional plan of the ideal city. So central was this debate to subsequent Greek and Roman philosophers that one could write the history of at least the ethical portion of those traditions as an extended conversation about this theme.1 Later philosophers in the Western tradition continue the conversation, never without considerable ambivalence, but usually with a lively sense of the ethical insight that literature may possibly offer. Jean-Jacques Rousseau, David Hume, Friedrich Nietzsche, Martin Heidegger—all these major Western philosophers, and many others, have contributed to keeping the conversation alive. Only in twentieth-century Anglo-American philosophy has the relationship between the two disciplines been virtually neglected. Analytic philosophers sought to write in a nonliterary style and rarely discussed the contribution of literature to understanding; literary authors and writers about literature felt, with much justice, that philosophy offered little that was relevant to their concerns. With the exception of figures such as Iris Murdoch and Stanley Cavell, always treated as eccentric and marginal, there was little sustained cross-disciplinary conversation. Today, all of this has changed. Young philosophers working on ethics are likely to have a keen interest in works of literature—not just as grab bags of examples, but as sources of ethical insight in their own right. Particularly in the part of the discipline known as "virtue ethics," concern with notions of character, ethical vision, and virtue, as well as a preoccupation with relationships of love and friendship, lead almost every participant in the subfield to turn to literature. Meanwhile, writers about literature are far more likely to discuss the ideas of moral philosophers than they were before. Conferences that bring critics and literary historians and theorists together with moral philosophers are [End Page 757] reasonably common, and joint dissertation committees are very common indeed. What produced this remarkable change? One major factor, at least, was a bold enterprise of Ralph Cohen's: an issue of New Literary History on the theme "Literature and Moral Philosophy." The issue was a typical example of Ralph's uncanny ability to identify significant debates that ought to occur, and then to set the stage for their occurrence—to lead fashion, rather than to be led by it. In recognition of his remarkable insight and courage, I shall devote this essay to telling the story of how that issue came into being, and then to some reflections on the changes we have seen since then. I can't avoid telling the story from the point of view of my own involvement in the issue, but I hope to make it clear that other thinkers played a generative role. Around my fifth year of teaching, in 1980 or 1981 (for I can find no documentary evidence of what exact year it was), I was invited to present an Invited Paper at the American Philosophical Association's Pacific Division meeting in San Francisco. Despite the general absence of interdisciplinary conversation, prior to Ralph's intervention, I had long had an interest in the relationship between literature and moral philosophy, and had made a point of teaching, every year, one course that was not in ancient Greek philosophy (the primary area of my appointment). One of the courses I offered was "Philosophy and the Novel," and I had been working out some ideas about Henry James and Marcel Proust, and their relevance to moral philosophy. I discussed those issues with Ralph when we first met on a visit I made to Virginia in around 1980, and he had already given me encouragement and advice. When the invitation arrived, without restriction of content, I decided, now or never. That is, if I didn't take this opportunity to stick my neck out as a philosopher, addressing questions not connected to ancient Greek philosophy, I...