Downton Abbey and Philosophy (6 page)

Notes

1
There are different versions of moral realism that do endorse the view that moral principles are empirically discoverable. See Richard Boyd, “How to Be a Moral Realist,” in
Essays on Moral Realism
, ed. Geoffrey Sayre-McCord (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1988), 181–228.

2
Russ Schafer-Landau,
Moral Realism: A Defense
(Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2003), 15.

3
Ibid., 268.

4
Season 2, episode 5.

5
Technically, this would be
moral nonrealism
, but I will use the term
moral skepticism
to stick closer to Shafer-Landau's treatment of the topic.

6
Russ Shafer-Landau,
Whatever Happened to Good and Evil
(Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2004), 8–42.

7
Schafer-Landau,
Moral Realism
, 251.

8
Ibid., 270.

9
For more about Daisy's deception regarding William, see chapter 2 in this book.

Chapter 6

“Why Would She Want to Be a Secretary?”

Paternalism in Downton Abbey

Mark D. White

In
Downton Abbey
we see the dying embers of a class structure as it emerges from the horrors of World War I. The aristocracy and its staff lived very different lives under the same roof, with separate customs and mores, but nonetheless they interacted with mutual respect and care. Even though this class structure seems alien to us today—aside from marvelous costume drama, of course—the dual concerns of care and respect are still important, and clashes between them arouse passions on both sides.

The conflict of care and respect is particularly apparent in cases of paternalism, which we will explore in this chapter using the story of one of the housemaids, Gwen. In the first season, Gwen's roommate, the head housemaid, Anna, discovers a typewriter hidden in their room, and Gwen admits that she has been taking a correspondence course in order to become a secretary. When the rest of the service staff and then the Crawleys hear the news, the reactions are mixed—and fortunately for us, we see several different viewpoints on paternalism represented among them.

Inviting Philosophers for Tea

Before we hear from the Dowager Countess and the rest of the family on the issue of paternalism, let's make clear what we're talking about. According to contemporary philosopher Gerald Dworkin,
paternalism
is “the interference of a state or an individual with another person, against their will, and defended or motivated by a claim that the person interfered with will be better off or protected from harm.”
1
Paternalism is distinguished from other types of interference based on its purpose. For instance, most laws and regulations issued by the government are intended to protect its citizens from harm by other people or parties. Laws prohibiting murder, assault, and theft protect us from aggression by our fellow citizens; regulations governing food and workplace safety protect us from indirect harm by other parties.

Such laws are usually justified by the
harm principle
, which is most often associated with British philosopher John Stuart Mill (1806–1873), who also used it to offer an argument against paternalism:

The only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant. He cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forbear because it will be better for him to do so, because it will make him happier, because, in the opinions of others, to do so would be wise or even right. . . . The only part of the conduct of any one, for which he is amenable to society, is that which concerns others. In the part which merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.
2

Mill's argument is based on respect for personal autonomy, the right of an individual to control the aspects of his or her life that have no direct impact on anyone else's.
3
If your actions wrongfully harm someone else, such as in the case of assault, then the state is entitled to restrict that behavior in the interest of protecting the other person. But if your actions affect only yourself—even if others judge the effects to be negative—then, according to Mill, the state is not justified to intervene on your behalf.

Any such intervention would be considered paternalistic, more like the behavior of a parent toward his or her child than a government toward its citizens. The German philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) made this point explicit in his critique of paternalism:

A government that was established on the principle of regarding the welfare of the people in the same way that a father regards his children's welfare, i.e., a
paternal government
—where the subjects, like
immature
children unable to distinguish between what is truly useful or harmful to them . . . such a government is the worst
despotism
we can think of (a constitution that subverts all the freedom of the subjects, who would have no freedom whatsoever).
4

As Dworkin wrote in the definition quoted above, paternalism is not merely a matter of government policy; any person in a position of authority can behave paternalistically toward someone else. The appropriateness of this depends on the relationship. Parents are responsible for their children's welfare and are therefore justified in behaving paternalistically toward them, especially since children are not considered mature enough to look after themselves and to have their choices and judgment respected. Paternalistic government policy, especially toward adults, is frowned upon because adults are presumed to be able to make decisions and look after themselves. The class system at the time of
Downton Abbey
, however, places the Crawleys and their servants somewhere in the middle, where the proper relationship between them is more complicated.

Just Normal Dinner Conversation

We can also look at this issue in terms of the conflicting values of care and respect. Paternalism reflects an attitude of care, a concern for the well-being of others, which takes precedence over respect for their own choices. Contemporary philosopher Dan Brock explains:

These values will be in conflict when the action chosen by the subject appears to be contrary to his well-being or good. The potential paternalist's alternatives then are either to respect the subject's autonomy and not protect his well-being or to infringe his autonomy by interfering to protect his well-being. So understood, the issue of paternalism requires a determination in any particular case of which value—autonomy or well-being—is more important or weighty.
5

In the case of parents and children, the emphasis on care over respect is understandable, given the parents' role as caretaker and children's incapacity to make mature judgments and choices worthy of respect. (Of course, this position is a difficult one for many parents to abandon when their children grow into adults and start demanding respect!) But most people believe that governments owe their citizens respect rather than care, given the impersonal nature of their relationship and the autonomy usually granted to adults in liberal societies.

As we noted before, the relationship between the nobility and the staff in prewar Britain lay somewhere in the middle. The servants are definitely adults but are considered “lesser” people compared to the nobility, who feel some paternalistic responsibility for their servants' well-being. The servants are, at the same time, grateful and resentful for this concern, which reflects the tension inherent in all hierarchical class systems.
6

In the fictional world of
Downton Abbey
in particular, this picture is complicated further by the fact that care and respect flow both ways between the household and the servants. For instance, we see the caring relationship between Carson and Mary, Robert and Bates, and O'Brien and Cora.
7
(Even the Dowager Countess has her moments!) Although the servants are required to show the family a minimal level of respect based on deference, and some of the nobles (and the wealthy elite, such as Sir Richard Carlisle) show the staff a condescending, reluctant sort of respect, we often see a more sincere respect on display on both sides, especially when it is reciprocated. For instance, Robert never presses Bates on his personal life, despite the many questions that arise about it, because they acknowledge each other as honorable men despite their class differences.

But when care takes precedence over respect—as it justifiably would between parent and child—relations between the family and the servants risk becoming contentious. Let's go back to Gwen and her aspirations to leave service and join the secretarial trade. Although several of her fellow staff members, including the butler, Carson, question her choice, the family engages in a spirited discussion, rich with the various opinions on the matter:

Mary:
Why are we talking about this? What does it matter?

Cora:
It matters that the people who live and work here are content.

Sybil:
Of course. We should be helping Gwen if that's what she wants.

Isobel:
I agree. Surely we must all encourage those less fortunate to improve their lot where they can.

Violet:
Not if it isn't in their best interests.

Isobel:
Isn't the maid a better judge of that than we are?

So many great ideas in six lines of dialogue! Cora and Isobel both express care for the servants, and we could also read respect in their comments: Isobel wants to encourage them to improve themselves as they choose, and Cora wants them to be content, presumably by their own standards. Sybil makes this respect explicit, referring to what Gwen wants, but Violet disagrees, which leads us into our next topic of discussion: Whose interests are actually promoted by paternalism?

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

Another way to frame the conflict between care and respect is to look at whose interests or values are actually promoted by paternalistic laws and regulations. In doing this, we don't need to invoke devious motives or dictatorial impulses. Policy makers and regulators can sincerely want to benefit their constituents, but the question remains: On whose interests are they basing their laws and regulations?

Value substitution
occurs when those in authority design paternalistic laws and regulations based on their judgment of people's interests rather than the people's own interests. Violet provides the perfect example earlier in the same dinner exchange:

Violet:
I don't understand, why would she want to be a secretary?

Matthew:
She wants a different life.

Violet:
But why? I should far prefer to be a maid in a large and pleasant house than work from dawn till dusk in a cramped and gloomy office. Don't you agree, Carson?

Carson:
I do, milady.

Generous and empathetic soul that she is, the Dowager Countess of Grantham puts herself in the shoes of Gwen the housemaid and claims knowledge of what she would prefer.
8
(And Carson agrees.) But of course she has no way of knowing that this is what Gwen would prefer; in the first exchange, we see Isobel challenge Violet on this point, asking if Gwen isn't a “better judge” of her interests than they are.

I don't mean to pick on Violet, because no paternalistic policy maker can avoid substituting other values for the people's own true interests, given that it is impossible to know much about them (directly). Contemporary legal scholar Claire Hill explains, “As convenient and tempting as it may be to extrapolate from our own introspection that others want what we do, or should want, we simply have no access to others' beliefs and desires.”
9
Any person's interests are various, complex, and, most important, subjective—knowable only to the person himself or herself.

The only clue to other people's interests that an outside observer can have is the choices those people make, from which the observer can try to infer the interests that motivated them. But since there can be any number of reasons or motivations for any decision, it is impossible to determine which one drove a particular choice. So policy makers who want to guide people's choices in their own interests—especially a large number of people, all with different interests—must assume some common interests, such as money or health. But this, in turn, means that the resulting paternalistic laws or regulations aren't in the people's
own
interests but rather in the interests assumed (or imposed) by the policy makers, defeating the purpose and presumption of paternalism.

Do You Take Your Paternalism Hard or Soft, Sir?

If policy makers want to advance people's own interests, which are reflected and promoted by the people's own choices, what reason is there to act paternalistically? Why aren't people's own choices enough? Is there any reason to believe that they actually don't serve people's best interests?

There are two main reasons for this doubt, one which is not very controversial and another which is very much so. The first is the possibility that a person's choice is not voluntary. Philosopher Joel Feinberg (1926–2004) understood a “perfectly voluntary choice” to imply the following:

If all of these conditions hold, we can be reasonably certain that a person's choice reflects his or her interests, and any intervention by the state in those interests would require significant justification.

If, however, at least one of these conditions doesn't hold—and in many cases one won't, since they are all rather demanding—then the choice may be judged not to be “perfectly voluntary.” This doesn't automatically justify paternalistic action by the government, but it opens the door for considering it, since an involuntary choice can't be assumed to have been made in the person's own interests. This is uncontroversial, and John Stuart Mill himself suggested the following case:

If either a public officer or any one else saw a person attempting to cross a bridge which had been ascertained to be unsafe, and there was no time to warn him of his danger, they might seize him and turn him back, without any real infringement of his liberty.
11