Metaphysical Animals: How Four Women Brought Philosophy Back to Life

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Metaphysical Animals makes impressively light-footed work of bringing philosophy in. The reader feels as if in the midst of a lively discussion over crumpets at a Lyons tearoom . . . The payoff is four glorious heroines, confident and curious, focused on the world and not themselves.” This edifying debut by philosophy professors Mac Cumhaill and Wiseman tells the stories of four female philosophy pioneers: Mary Midgley, Elizabeth Anscombe, Philippa Foot, and Iris Murdoch . . . the research is thorough and provides a cogent counternarrative to traditional male-centric histories of mid–20th-century philosophy. These four philosophers might not appear on standard syllabi, but this detailed chronicle makes a persuasive case that they should.” Overall it was a very enjoyable book, although not for everyone. The biographical-historical-cultural-philosophical mix was a little odd at times. Sometimes it felt it was covering everything and in the process diluting its message. Furthermore, the book was very comprehensive, making it seem overly detailed in some areas that weren't very exciting. Despite that, it was very well written and covered fascinating topics. If you like history and philosophy, and if you are concerned about meaning and values, it's worth reading. Absorbing. . .each of this book’s subjects produced work that, in seeking to reconnect ‘human life, action and perception’ with morality, remains vitally relevant.” The second theme is metaphysics, as alluded to by the title. We are indeed metaphysical animals, and this cannot be denied. The book beautifully explores the connections between history and philosophy, which is unusually tight in this period. At the beginning of the century, philosophy in Britain was occupied by Idealist metaphysicians vastly influenced by Hegel, seeking complex metaphysics where the goal was to seek the unified whole, the Absolute. This was the task of philosophy.

There are complications along the way. Murdoch, in particular, has a habit of both falling in love and being fallen for. She almost irrevocably damages her friendship with Foot by causing and then breaking a complicated love quadrilateral. Her admiration for Anscombe shades into the erotic. But, in and out of each others’ orbit, they start to find alternative ways of thinking about human beings, drawing on insights from Aristotle, Aquinas and Wittgenstein. Anscombe and Foot develop formidable reputations in academic philosophy. Murdoch’s beautiful, challenging philosophical writing gives way to a career as an acclaimed novelist and woman of letters. Midgley is the most grounded of the quartet, bringing philosophy into conversation with zoology and ethology and publishing the first of her 18 books when she is 59. The authors use as a framing device Oxford's awarding of an honorary degree to Harry Truman in 1956. Anscombe objected to this because of Truman's authorization of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and she tried to persuade the dons not to award the degree. She failed, but she drew international attention and the admiration of others who shared her view. The main part of the book begins and ends with this incident, illustrating the commitment of Anscombe and the others to the real-life importance of moral philosophy. A vivid picture of the times, and of the formative experiences of the four women who would go on to become some of the most influential philosophers of the 20th century. . . As with any good history, there is something eerily prescient in Mac Cumhaill and Wiseman’s account of a university educated cultural elite for whom moral discourse had declined to the point of linguistic one-upmanship—and the subsequent need to reconnect with a more robust notion of virtue, human flourishing, and what makes for a good life.”

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A truly detailed exploration of the lives of four of the women who broke philosophical ground at Oxford, and a close examination of their thoughts about philosophy, religion and politics. This kind of book is often riddled with speculation, but the authors interviewed Mary Midgley as a primary source, who was the only one still alive before this book was published. She sadly passed away in 2018. The book begins with two short vignettes: one about Elizabeth Anscombe’s speech against the awarding of an honorary degree by oxford to Harry Truman. The other is Philippa foot, writing a very long letter, pleading that Somerville offer Elizabeth a job. Anscombe, for example, wanted to establish an ethical basis on which it could be established that the Nazis were objectively wrong. She is said to have coined the term “consequentialism” – the notion that it is the consequences rather than the intentions by which your conduct should be judged. She was arguably the most eminent of the four in terms of philosophy, though of course Murdoch made a larger impact as a novelist. Elizabeth meets Wittgenstein. She is perplexed but she has religious faith which makes her serious. In the late 1930s the women’s colleges at Oxford were but a marginal appendage to the University, very much as the Somerville alumna Dorothy Sayer describes in Gaudy Night. They were recent foundations with none of the wealth or magnificent architecture of the ancient men’s colleges. But the devotion of the fellows to scholarship and to the success of their students was uncompromising. Women students pursued to same curriculum and took the same examinations as the men. Iris, Mary, and Elizabeth took first in ‘Greats’ – a tremendously demanding combination of Classics and ancient and modern philosophy that makes any contemporary humanist scholar (such as myself) feel like a scarcely literate barbarian. Mary and Iris also participated in Eduard Fraenkel’s Aeschylus seminar, contributing to his awesome edition of the Agamemnon and enduring his deplorable habit of groping women students, behaviour intolerable today.

In a disintegrating or changing world, it is easy to lose sight of what really matters for human life going well, and of which kinds of harms are of serious importance. I loved getting a glimpse of Elizabeth's relationship with Wittgenstein, one of those heroes whose words and ideas I've pored over for decades now, largely through her translations, and felt that the treatment of most everyone — from the leading ladies and philosophical giants to the most fleeting of cameos — was fair, unflinching without resorting to the kind of judgment that is far more present in the assessment of ideas. Similarly, the persistent affirmation of the book's title, the reminder that we humans are animals, too, and our language central to the activity of our lives, felt to me satisfying and right. Elizabeth Anscombe: defiantly brilliant, chain-smoking, trouser-wearing Catholic and (eventual) mother of seven.There are a couple of prominent themes in the book. The first is the fact that they were all women. This is why I decided to read it and how the book is marketed. It's certainly covered although not extensively. Nevertheless, it's very true that at the time it was a world of men, and philosophy, in particular, was heavily biased against women. A funny example is Elizabeth’s first lecture, which she gave in trousers. It became a huge controversy at the time, requiring an official statement by the clerk that she needed to become "appropriately dressed", meaning a skirt. She ended up managing a compromise where she would go to school in her trousers, but change to a skirt in a changing room before going to lecture. There are many other examples where women were clearly not taken seriously just because of their gender, and overall barriers to being part of philosophy.