In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

The Empty Suitcase as Rainbow M E R O L D W E S T P H A L In her project of revisioning moral philosophy, Edith Wyschogrod takes a decisive turn from moral theory to hagiography, from abstract analysis and argument to concrete life stories. The negative motivation for this turn is a critique of moral theory. Two elements of this critique strike me as especially forceful. First, moral theory depends on arguments that do not persuade those outside the hermeneutic circle within which the arguments occur. Thus she points to ‘‘the circularity of standard modes of rationality.’’1 The problem is that ‘‘background claims . . . cannot be agreed upon. If there is no common frame of reference, no cultural consensus in terms of which these disputes can be settled, the disputants can only go on arguing without altering moral dispositions or generating moral actions.’’2 In speaking of the failure to alter moral dispositions or to generate moral actions, Wyschogrod makes a second, powerful point. It is not just that moral theory does not produce agreement and consensus, but that ‘‘moral theories do not result in moral actions.’’3 Epistemically speaking, moral theory does not give us the knowledge it promises, and pragmatically speaking, it does not give us the goodness we need. We are greatly indebted to Wyschogrod for the bold suggestion that stories of saintly lives can help us with these problems, and for the lucid and learned way in which she develops this hypothesis. But it is not immediately clear that the turn to narrativity in general or to saintly narratives in particular will solve these problems. After all, narratives, too, have 48 their points of view, their presuppositions, which are not necessarily shared by all readers. For example, one of the most moving hagiographic narratives to come out of the Holocaust is Philip Hallie’s Lest Innocent Blood Be Shed. Written by a Jewish moral philosopher who has turned to narrative, it is the story of Le Chambon, a village in southeastern France whose three thousand poor inhabitants, at great risk and cost to themselves , saved the lives of as many as five thousand refugees, mostly children and mostly Jews, either by hiding them in and around the village—first from the Vichy police and then from the Gestapo—or by helping them to escape to Switzerland. It is a deeply moving and inspiring story, none the less so for being true. But in the concluding chapter, while admitting that his narrative is a form of moral praise, since he shares the presupposition of the Chambonnais that ‘‘human life had no price; it had only dignity ,’’4 Hallie points out that not everyone would interpret the facts of his story that way: ‘‘The Nazis had other presumptions about the preciousness of human life.’’ As the handbook of the Hitler Youth states it, ‘‘The foundation of the National Socialist outlook on life is the perception of the unlikeness of men.’’5 If for every argument there is a counterargument , this is not least so because for every presupposition there is an alternative presupposition. Nor is it clear that narrative passes the pragmatic test that theory fails. On the side of theory, I can be inspired by Kant’s analysis of the good will, by the ideal of treating all people as ends in themselves and not merely as means to my (or our) ends, and by the idea that a person has a dignity but not a price. But that inspiration may prove impotent when it comes to my attitudes and actions. As a student I may sell my soul to the devil, proving that my price trumps my dignity, by cheating on an exam or paper about Kant’s ethics so as to get the grades I need to get into law school. As a teacher I may give brilliant lectures on Kant’s ethics without ceasing to view those around me, both at work and at home, primarily as means to my ends. But the inspiration that comes from hagiography, be it the story of Mother Teresa or of the Chambonnais, may prove equally impotent. A passage from the New Testament comes to mind. But be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves . For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like...

Share