Downton Abbey and Philosophy

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1: “The Cat that Walks by Himself”

Wait a Minute—Kant? Really?

Matthew Keeps a Stiff Upper Lip

The Trials and Tribulations of Mr. Bates

Me Lord Grantham, you Jane

Like the Dowager Countess, Kant is So Very Misunderstood

Chapter 2: “But It's a Lie!”

“A Great Kindness” or Just Plain Wrong?

Lying is Always Wrong

Lying for Good Reasons

Lying as Betrayal

Should Daisy Have Told William the Truth?

Oh, the Web We Weave . . .

Chapter 3: “Put that in Your Pipe and Smoke It”

“Fragile Feminine Sensibilities,” Indeed

The Performativity of the Crawleys

Cora and O'Brien: Two of a Kind

Isobel Crawley and the Dowager Countess—Oh My!

In Defense of Mary

“I Underestimated Your Enthusiasm”

Chapter 4: Hume's Moral Philosophy and Thomas's Moral Corruption

An Enquiry Concerning Thomas

As Thomas's World Turns

When Thomas is Good—and Denies it

A Change in Position?

Chapter 5: Marriages, Miscarriages, and Morality at Downton

My Dear Lord Grantham, What is Moral Realism?

There's No Place for Skepticism at Downton

Daisy May Not Have Book Smarts, But She Has Moral Knowledge

Daisy Can Cook, but is She Reliable?

Moral Life Goes on at Downton

Chapter 6: “Why Would She Want to Be a Secretary?”

Inviting Philosophers for Tea

Just Normal Dinner Conversation

“Not If it Isn't in Their Best Interests,” Indeed!

Do you Take Your Paternalism Hard or Soft, Sir?

The Dowager Countess Will Love This Section

Oh, the Hubris!

Contributors

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Series Editor: William Irwin

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Introduction

“The Philosophers Are Here to See You, Milord”

Downton Abbey
has captivated fans on both sides of the Atlantic. Week in and week out, we tune in to see the latest travails of the Crawleys and their servants as they deal with issues of inheritance, class, love, injury, and propriety. We admire Bates's sense of honor, feel for Mary's aimlessness, envy Carson's steadfastness, and thrill to Violet's caustic wit and subtle wisdom. Every character brings something unique to the household and to the show, and every situation reveals something new about all of the characters and their relationships with one another, as well as the evolving social structure and mores of the day.

The chapters in
Downton Abbey and Philosophy
introduce some of the most essential topics in philosophy using a few of the most familiar and controversial story lines from the show. Was Matthew right to push Mary away after his injury in the war? Should Daisy have lied to William about her feelings toward him—especially to the point of marrying him? Would Lord Grantham have been justified in blocking Lady Sybil's marriage to Branson, the chauffeur? Should Mr. Bates have been upfront with Anna from the beginning about his past? What does it mean to say that O'Brien's actions leading to Lady Grantham's miscarriage were objectively wrong? How do the female characters of
Downton Abbey
reflect different views of feminism? And is Thomas
really
such a bad guy?

Philosophical speculation awaits. So take a seat in your personal library, have the butler pour a cup of tea, and let's begin!

Chapter 1

“The Cat That Walks by Himself”

Sacrifice, Duty, and Love in Downton Abbey

Mark D. White

One of the most captivating things about
Downton Abbey
is its variety of romantic relationships, and the two that capture our imaginations the most seem to be the relationships between Matthew and Lady Mary upstairs and between Mr. Bates and Anna downstairs. (I'd add the Dowager Countess's undying love for herself, but that would take an entire chapter to itself!) We know from the first episode that Matthew and Mary are destined to end up together, especially after they are repulsed by each other on their first meeting. The attraction between Bates and Anna, however, smolders over the first few episodes before they announce their feelings for each other halfway through the first season.

One of the reasons we're drawn to these two romances in particular is the noble self-sacrifice displayed by both Matthew and Bates.
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Each man tries to shield his beloved from having to carry the burden of injury (in Matthew's case) or a sordid past (in Bates's case). In this chapter we'll use the duty-based ethical system of Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) to explore Matthew's and Bates's behavior toward Mary and Anna, respectively, especially in terms of how they put the women's happiness above their own—reminding us how wonderful a great love story can be.

Wait a Minute—Kant? Really?

It may come as a shock that I would use the moral philosophy of Immanuel Kant to look at romantic relationships, given Kant's reputation for being rigidly logical. Kant is best known for the
categorical imperative
, his formalization of the “moral law,” which people are supposed to apply to their plans of action (or
maxims
) to determine if they correspond to duty or violate it. For instance, the universalization formula of the categorical imperative commands us to “act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.”
2

Based on this formula, lying is contrary to duty because if everyone lied, no one would believe anything anybody said, which would defeat the purpose of lying. Another formula of the categorical imperative tells us to “act in such a way that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of another, always at the same time as an end and never simply as a means,” which also forbids lying because it uses the person lied to as a means to the liar's own ends.
3

In addition to forbidding certain actions like lying and killing, the categorical imperative also demands that certain attitudes be adopted, such as helping others and cultivating one's talents. In this way, Kant's ethics not only discourages immoral behavior but also clearly encourages positive moral behavior.

It is not Kant's categorical imperative that concerns us here, or even the specific duties that result from it, but rather how duties should influence our decision making. According to Kant, we are endowed with
autonomy
, the ability to make decisions without undue influence from either external authority or internal desires. Autonomy implies that we can—and should—follow our duties before attending to our wants.

Kant's moral philosophy flew in the face of the common thinking of his time, which is represented by the famous statement of the Scottish philosopher David Hume (1711–1776) that “reason is, and ought only to be, the slave of the passions.”
4
According to Hume (and others), the way to be moral is to develop moral attitudes or sentiments and make choices according to them. But Kant held that such attitudes are unreliable—just because people “like” being moral now doesn't guarantee they always will—and that truly moral behavior must be based on a recognition that duties take precedence over desires and preferences.

Furthermore, Kant held that in order to be moral, we must act not only according to duty but also for the sake of duty; in other words, the motivation behind an act is a better reflection of one's moral character than the act itself. For example, it seemed like a nice thing for Thomas to ask Daisy to go with him to the fair, but we know that he did it only to frustrate William, who truly cared for Daisy.
5
We know that Thomas does kind things only when it's in his own interest, so we don't think he deserves our praise for them. But when Mrs. Hughes helps the former maid Ethel support her baby boy and tries to forge connections with his father and his grandparents, we admire her for it (even though it didn't always work out).
6
Today we say “It's the thought that counts,” suggesting that most of us agree with Kant that the reason someone did something is a better guide to his or her moral character than what he or she actually did (or what resulted from it).

Matthew Keeps a Stiff Upper Lip

When Matthew Crawley first meets his cousin Lady Mary sparks do not exactly fly. He sees her as pretentious and stuffy, and she sees him as a usurper—and a hopelessly low class one at that (a solicitor, of all things!). It is obvious to the viewers, however—and crucially important for the Crawleys of Downton Abbey—that they will be together eventually, and over the course of the first two seasons they gradually realize it too, despite Matthew's later engagement to Lavinia Swire and Mary's engagement to Sir Richard Carlisle.

As the second season begins, the world is at war, with Matthew serving on the front lines in France. At the insistence of Matthew's mother, Isobel, Downton Abbey is soon retrofitted as a convalescent home for officers, and after an explosion severely injures him, Matthew returns there to recuperate. Dr. Clarkson informs Matthew that his spine is irreparably damaged, paralyzing him from the waist down.
7
Feeling unable to be a proper husband, he rejects his fiancée, Lavinia, and tells Mary that he would kill himself if she sacrificed her own marriage plans to take care of him.

Matthew obviously desires a loving wife. He was devastated at the end of the first season when Mary's affection wavered in response to the possibility of a new heir to the Grantham fortune (the baby boy that her mother, Cora, loses as a result of her maid O'Brien's knavery).
8
When the second season begins, we find Matthew engaged to Lavinia, whose affections seem more reliable than Mary's. Matthew craves the stability and devotion he can expect from Lavinia—but also the excitement and challenge that is guaranteed from Mary.

While Matthew's desires are strong, his devotion to duty is even stronger—in this case, his duty not to be a burden to others. Out of respect for this duty, he rejects both women after he is told of his impotence. Having pushed Lavinia away, he confides in Mary in the form of a quote from a Rudyard Kipling story: “I am the cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to me. I have nothing to give and nothing to share.”
9
Matthew regards himself as an unfit husband to any woman and so suppresses his desires for the sake of what he sees as his duty.
10

Of course, it is natural to wonder whether Matthew truly acts out of duty, or out of a desire to be moral (or to be seen as moral) that overwhelms his desire for love and companionship. Although Kant said that to be moral we must act for the sake of duty, he fully recognized that we rarely know our true motivations for any good act, especially one that corresponds to both our desire and our duty.
11
For instance, William enlisted in the army during wartime, against his father's wishes, because he believed it was his duty, but also because he wanted to. His choice was no less moral for being partly based on desire; he simply had mixed motivations, duty and desire, both of which supported the same dutiful action. So even if Matthew does have a desire to be (or appear) moral, this would not make his sacrifice less admirable—as long as it is based on duty as well (as it seems to be).
12

The Trials and Tribulations of Mr. Bates

Even though Matthew practices dutiful sacrifice, Mr. Bates is surely the all-time champion. Strong but silent and humble to a fault, Bates arouses strong reactions among the staff at Downton: Carson and Mrs. Hughes doubt his ability to serve as valet, given his pronounced limp, and Thomas and O'Brien resent what they see as his “haughty” virtue. Lord Grantham, however, feels fiercely loyal to his former colleague-at-arms. Over time, most of Downton Abbey comes to appreciate him, none more so than Anna, whose long, wistful gazes leave no question about her growing affections for Lord Grantham's new valet.

Bates falls in love with Anna also, launching the other great love affair of
Downton Abbey.
Like Matthew after his injury, however, Bates believes he is not good enough for his beloved, so he urges Anna to stay away from him and find a more worthy man instead. He clearly wants to be with her but feels unable to because of secrets in his past; these secrets come out one by one as the series progresses—and Anna travels to London to uncover some of them for herself. His adherence to his sense of duty to her, to protect her from the flawed man he considers himself to be, in the face of his love for her, makes him a compelling romantic hero—and, like Matthew, an example of Kantian respect for duty over desire.

Does Bates take this duty too far, though? Whether or not we agree with Matthew's rejection of Mary and Lavinia, we can sympathize with his belief that his paralysis disqualified him from being a good husband (even the women he cast aside were taken aback by the news). But aside from Bates's marriage to Vera—an important concern, no doubt—the sources of Bates's feelings of inadequacy seem less clear. He claims to have been a thief, for which he went to prison, but Anna finds out from his mother that Vera was the true thief—committing a crime for which Bates assumed the blame and took the punishment. Because of this, Bates feels less than honorable and unworthy of a woman like Anna, whom he regards as a true lady.
13
His perceived failings are a judgment of his own character rather than (as in Matthew's case) his physical abilities—which is ironic, given his limp.

Bates's predicament illustrates the importance of judgment in putting any ethical system into practice, including Kant's. The duties generated by the categorical imperative are very general—do not lie, be kind to others, and so on—and therefore can't tell us exactly what to do in any given situation. Bates chooses to act on his duty of kindness to Anna in a very protective and self-sacrificing way, but he could have chosen any number of ways to be kind to her. He also chooses to follow his duty not to lie to her by being secretive rather than being open with her—another choice that we could easily question.

Also, judgment is needed to resolve conflicts between duties; to some extent, the duties not to lie and to be kind conflicted in this case, since Bates's secrecy results in anguish for Anna. He makes a choice of how to resolve that conflict, but other choices could have been made in accord with the same basic duties.

This range of choices that Bates could have made highlights the fact that Kant's ethics actually leaves a tremendous amount of room for judgment and flexibility, despite its misperception as inflexible. The duties that are derived from the categorical imperative are basic guidelines for moral choices, but they don't tell us exactly what to do in any given case. Our obligations to others and to ourselves are too numerous to be covered by simple duties that can't apply precisely to complex real-life situations. And we see this when equally good people face similar problems and make different choices—or change their minds over time, as Bates did when he decided finally to embrace Anna's love and marry her.

Me Lord Grantham, You Jane

Robert Crawley, the Earl of Grantham, is an upstanding gentleman. He usually stays above the day-to-day strife of the house, leaving family issues to his wife, Cora, and matters regarding the staff to his butler, Carson, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Hughes. Nonetheless, we do see him struggle with larger problems, such as an increasing concern among the staff and family about Bates's ability to do his job (as well as Thomas's and O'Brien's attempts to slander him). Lord Grantham is an exemplar of reasoned judgment, balancing his duties to the family and household with his loyalty to Bates, arriving at the decision he believes is consistent with the responsibilities of his exalted position.

But sound judgment may not be enough, for even the Earl of Grantham is not perfect. It is one thing to determine the right thing to do, but it is another thing entirely to act on it, especially in the face of temptation to do otherwise. We all have the capacity to make choices with autonomy, but that capacity is stronger in some people than others—as well as at certain times for any one of us.

Kant recognized that even though we should always follow duty, we won't always succeed, “for while the capacity to overcome all opposing sensible impulses can and must be simply
presupposed
in man on account of his [autonomy], yet this capacity as
strength
is something he must acquire.”
14
And this strength is acquired, maintained, and developed through constant practice and contemplation of the moral law, which can never be relaxed; concerning strength of character, Kant wrote that “if it is not rising, [it] is unavoidably sinking.”
15

But as strong or resolute as someone is, he or she can still succumb to the temptation of desire. And so Lord Grantham succumbed to his newfound attraction to Jane, a late addition to the Downton staff.
16
On several occasions she comforted him during times of anxiety or grief, and he began to develop an interest in her young son's education. Eventually, weakened by his concern for the ailing Matthew (among other things), he succumbed to temptation and kissed Jane; later he took her into his bedroom, but he was summoned away by Bates in the nick of time.
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