Chapter 2
“But It’s a Lie!”
Deception and Integrity in the Story of William and Daisy
Daisy, the kitchen maid of Downton Abbey, speaks anguished words at a pivotal turn in her relationship with William, the second footman: “I feel I’ve led him up the garden path with all that nonsense. I’m ashamed, I’m so ashamed.”1 Their relationship has captured our imaginations, pulled at our heartstrings, and forced us to wrestle with the ambiguities surrounding lying and truth telling. We became frustrated when it was obvious that William had feelings for Daisy even though she was taken with the devious Thomas (the first footman).
We found some relief when she began to see through Thomas’s deceit and recognized William’s integrity and honor. We became upset, however, as we watched a reluctant Daisy struggle with her feelings for William when he finally proposed. And our hearts broke when we found William dying of his war wounds, pleading for Daisy to give him a final moment of happiness by marrying him on his deathbed.
These images linger with us as we wrestle with Daisy’s actions: withholding her true feelings for William, allowing him to believe that she returns his love, and then marrying him on his deathbed. These actions, of course, raise a central issue of concern to moral philosophy: Is it ever right to lie or deceive, especially when we think it would have overall good consequences? In the case of William, our hearts may first tell us that he is best left in the dark about Daisy’s true feelings, but our consciences tell us that dishonesty is simply wrong.
“A Great Kindness” or Just Plain Wrong?
Daisy, the much-scolded kitchen maid, and William, the stalwart second footman, are merely supporting characters on Downton Abbey, yet their story of love, deception, and the search for happiness plays a major role in the drama. A quick search of Downton Abbey blogs on the Web confirms that most viewers, just like the fictional household characters, believe Daisy has acted with kindness. We might agree if not for the words of Daisy herself. She consistently expresses deep guilt and shame over her behavior, most explicitly after William’s death:
Daisy: He thought I loved him, but I didn’t, not the way he loved me. I never should have married him in the first place.
Mrs. Hughes (the housekeeper): Marrying him was a great kindness.
Daisy: No, it wasn’t kind; it was wrong!2
Daisy’s statements raise important issues about lying. Nearly the entire household is complicit in the deception, yet Daisy maintains that her lies are wrong. William’s strength of character in adhering to truth telling heightens the contrast between honesty and falsehood, especially for Daisy, given their close friendship. Most important, Daisy’s self-indictment urges us to explore the intrinsic harm of lying, even for benevolent reasons. We need to investigate the possible negative consequences of lying in situations in which, on the surface, there appear to be no negative consequences.
Contemporary philosopher Sissela Bok considers these issues in her book Lying: Moral Choice in Public and Private Life, in which she defines a lie as “any intentional deceptive message that is stated.”3 Bok sets her centrist position in contrast to two long-standing positions in moral philosophy: deontology, which maintains that lying is always wrong, and consequentialism, which holds that lying is wrong only when it has more negative than positive consequences.
St. Augustine (354–430) and Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) advocated the view that lying is wrong and cannot be justified by any consideration of positive consequences. In their deontological views, lying is wrong in and of itself. Augustine argued that a lie undermines the very purpose of speech, which is to express our ideas to others. If our thoughts and our words do not line up, then we have misused the divine gift of speech.4 Kant stated that “to be truthful (honest) in all declarations is . . . a sacred and unconditionally commanding law of reason that admits of no expediency whatsoever.”5 According to Kant, falsehood destroys the ground of mutual trust that binds society together, and therefore it is our obligation to uphold this standard for the benefit of all. Furthermore, not only do lies undermine the very fabric of society, they also rob both the perpetrator and the victim of their self-respect.6
Following Augustine and Kant, Bok argues that concerns about harm and risk form the strongest arguments against lying in general.7 Bok claims that each lie, no matter how trivial it seems on the surface, causes harm to the liar. Liars often weigh the injury that a particular lie may cause against the beneficial ends they hope to promote, while failing to see the effect that lying has on their own integrity and their community.8
A small loss of personal integrity from a single lie may not seem like much, but the cumulative effect can be an overall erosion of trust in a relationship or a community. For the liar, the lack of trust leads to a loss of power and influence among people and can even threaten the liar’s means of survival. (Consider Lord Grantham’s reluctance to hire Thomas as his valet after Mr. Bates was arrested for murder.)
In addition, most lies lead to situations where further lies are required to keep up the deception.9 Lying quickly becomes a pervasive practice or habit. When a liar is discovered, the shock can break the confidence of an entire community. Trust is a social necessity; it is the ground on which we build the bonds among one another, whether intimate or casual. We trust that a friend will keep our confidence, a spouse will be faithful, and a neighbor will not break in and steal. Without these assurances, our social order breaks down, and the fear that ensues brings chaos with it.10
Daisy certainly gets a taste of these problems when she comes under the sway of Thomas and O’Brien, who hatch several plans to damage Mr. Bates’s reputation (and install Thomas in his place).11 Over time, Carson, who supervises them, begins to realize that he cannot trust what they say. He discusses his concerns with Lord Grantham, and they decide that they cannot do anything about O’Brien because of her close relationship with Lady Grantham but that they will move toward dismissing Thomas (who leaves for the war before he can be fired). Both Thomas and O’Brien work in the background, twisting public opinion, looking for ways to use lies and deception to their own benefit, but it backfires on them. We see the importance of avoiding lies, because lies undermine personal integrity and social relationships built on trust.
Bok recognizes that many people think there are instances when lying is beneficial and even necessary. For example, in his Summa Theologica, St. Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) tried to give a little more “wiggle room” when evaluating lies, especially in three cases: helpful lies, joking lies, and malicious lies.12 Rather than condemning all lies, Aquinas evaluated the particular harm or good of each particular lie, which complements the consequentialist perspective on lying.
But this perspective can be problematic, even for relatively minor lies. For instance, many people believe that trivial lies, or “white lies,” are of little or no consequence. But, in fact, even white lies have negative consequences that should not be ignored. Such lies injure the liar and the community. The consequentialist position is further complicated by the realization that the liar may have very different ideas about the good and bad consequences of a lie than the person being lied to would have.
According to Bok, the only possible justification for a lie is altruistic intent.13 People are much more likely to pardon a lie when the liar genuinely believes that he or she is acting for the benefit of another. Scenarios in which someone’s life might be in danger press us to consider the possibility of justifiable lies. Yet lying to save a life is an unusual situation; most opportunities for lying are completely mundane. Bok suggests that lying in these common situations, even when the liar calls the motivation altruistic, is often motivated by selfishness.14 Liars may either deceive themselves into believing that the lie is for the benefit of another or use the possible positive outcome of a lie as a cloak to mask their true intentions.
Lady Mary’s cover-up of her sexual indiscretion with the attaché from the Turkish embassy, Kemal Pamuk, illustrates the possibility of mixed motivation in lying.15 Mary’s concern for the disgrace her mistake will cast on herself and her family—especially her father—drives her to involve her mother and Anna in moving Mr. Pamuk’s body back to his own room after he has died of a sudden heart attack in her bed. In turn, Cora and Anna are bound by their loyalty to Mary and the entire Crawley household to suppress the events of that night. They collectively lie to preserve Mary’s reputation, prevent the family’s shame, and spare Lord Grantham bitter disappointment.
Bok warns, however, that there is really no way a liar can know with certainty how the deception will finally play out, and there is always a margin for error in any estimation of costs and benefits.16 For instance, Lady Mary couldn’t foresee the bitter consequences her lie would have for Mr. Bates or how it would cloud her relationship with Matthew. Mary’s intention is to guard herself and the ones she loves from scandal, but the continuing need to preserve the lie leads to potential blackmail by the despicable Vera Bates and necessitates the continuation of Mary’s engagement to Sir Richard, a man she does not love. The irrevocable damage to Mr. Bates’s situation and the ongoing intimidation from Sir Richard are outcomes that Mary surely did not foresee when she first thought to deceive. Bok’s advice holds true: even the most well-intentioned lies should give us pause when considering their potential for disaster.
Bok draws from both deontological and consequentialist perspectives, showing us that lies are inherently destructive while also arguing that there may be certain situations in which lies may be morally necessary. But both approaches focus on the lie rather than the liar, the act rather than the actor, and what the person does rather than who he or she is. A third approach, virtue ethics, offers an alternative. Virtue ethics considers a person and his or her character traits, predispositions, or virtue to be central to moral evaluation. If virtue ethicists analyzed Daisy’s situation, they would not spend much time speculating on whether her actions were right or wrong but would ask instead whether they reflected a good character.
In the spirit of virtue ethics, theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906–1945) asked us to focus not so much on the content of the words that pass between the liar and the deceived, but on the relationship between the two individuals. On the surface, our words can have the appearance of truth, yet if the relationship between the two people speaking is false, then the words can become untrue. “I speak flatteringly or presumptuously or hypocritically without uttering a material untruth,” Bonhoeffer explained, “yet my words are nevertheless untrue, because I am disrupting and destroying the reality of the relationship.”17
For example, Mary’s desire to tell Matthew the truth about Mr. Pamuk is grounded in the trust on which their relationship is built. Her persistent lie distorts the reality between them while the truth would reinforce the love that ties them together. If our words are to be true, then they must honor the other person; they must fit the relationship. Fundamentally, the person “who stands behind the word makes his word a lie or a truth.”18
Bonhoeffer presented the “truthful word” as something that lives in growing relationships rather than being static. He presented those who rigidly “speak the truth” in all places in the same manner as enemies of the truth, since they are not sensitive to the various emotional and moral factors at work in any particular relationship. Bonhoeffer was aware that such an emphasis might lead one to relativism, where it is impossible to make any distinctions between truth and falsehood, yet he believed that we can still hold to the idea of a “living truth” without giving in to a relativistic view.19
Bonhoeffer argued that truthfulness is not an abstract philosophical concept but something that plays out in concrete situations. As we grow up and enter different social circles, with varying rules for interaction, we must learn the “right words” to speak in any given context.20 We are not immediately entitled to say what we want to say in any given situation; rather, our speech is “occasioned by the other” person. In this sense, lying to someone is betraying the boundaries of one’s relationship with that person. For instance, concealment does not automatically mean deception; sometimes it is a sign of respect for privacy within a particular relationship.21
In Mr. Bates, Daisy can see someone who values trust in his relationships. Out of a strict code of honor, Bates often holds back information that would be to his benefit. When Thomas and O’Brien turn against him, Bates refuses to speak up in his own defense. He does not tell anybody that O’Brien tripped him, causing him to fall in front of a guest. When Thomas plants a missing snuffbox in Bates’s room, Bates does not report Thomas’s conspiracy to Carson. After witnessing Thomas stealing wine from the cellar, Bates will not point the finger of blame at him, even after Thomas trumps up charges of theft against him.
As the suspicions build and the evidence seems to being going against Bates, the Earl of Grantham asks him for mitigating circumstances, to which Bates responds merely that the earl will have to judge him based on the evidence.22 The irony here is that Bates is not giving all of the evidence; he refuses to correct false impressions. But these choices do not represent lies, in Bonhoeffer’s sense, because Bates works to prevent betrayal in any form. If he set the record straight for himself, he would cause someone else harm. And that he refuses to do.
In the story of Bates and Anna, we can also see the importance of attending to the truth in different relationships. Because of Bates’s silence about his past, Anna must do her own digging, tracking down Bates’s mother to discover that Bates went to prison to protect his (ungrateful) wife Vera; this confirms Anna’s belief that Bates is a man of integrity.23 When Anna relates her discovery to Bates, arguing that she had to find the truth, Bates says that Anna does not know the whole truth, just his mother’s truth, to which Anna responds, “But not your wife’s?” Bates consistently tortures himself and turns the blame away from others, even if, by all accounts, they deserve the punishment (as Thomas and Vera do).
Should Daisy Have Told William the Truth?
Both Bok and Bonhoeffer can help in answering the difficult question of whether Daisy should have told William the truth. Bok lays out a two-part method for determining whether Daisy’s lie can be justified. First, she should check with her own conscience, and second, if her inner voice affirms that the lie is reasonable, she must take her decision to a public setting to be confirmed or denied by other “reasonable people.”24 We can’t read Daisy’s mind in the hope of divining her conscience, but we can see the looks of anguish on her face as well as her repeated expressions of remorse, which deepen as she contrasts her own actions with the standard of truth that William provides. We know she regrets the initial lie as well as her maintenance of it. So any justification for the lie fails Bok’s first test.25
But when Daisy takes the deception to her community, she receives overwhelming affirmation. Mrs. Patmore, the cook, is the dominant voice here, encouraging Daisy to accept William’s proposal and not tell him or his father the truth about her feelings. Mrs. Patmore’s regret over the death of her nephew in the war (with the stigma of cowardice) and her admiration for William prompt her to move into Daisy’s personal life, ordering her around there just as she does in the kitchen. Mrs. Hughes also quickly lines up in support of the wedding, offering frowns whenever Daisy shows indecision.
Eventually, all of the staff and even some of the family get caught up in the romance of the events, especially after William returns from the front mortally wounded. It seems as though every “reasonable” person around Daisy supports the marriage. Daisy is caught between her conscience and the public support of what she sees is a lie.
Bonhoeffer’s relational theory helps us to grapple with this conundrum in another way. If we understand the lie as a fundamental betrayal of a relationship, we clearly see what has bothered Daisy. Even if we believe that feelings are fickle and that Daisy will learn to love William as he loves her, Daisy acknowledges that she cannot return the honesty that William has given her. To the extent that Daisy sees her action as a betrayal of her relationship with William, then it is a lie, and she should not have started down that path by kissing him and then accepting his proposal, much less continued with it by the marriage just before his death.
Furthermore, her community has also betrayed its own relationships with both Daisy and William, by encouraging her to initiate and maintain the deception against her better judgment and by betraying William’s trust in the others when they were aware of Daisy’s uncertainty the entire time. The community members are all complicit in the deception; this is especially regrettable, given Daisy’s and William’s trusting natures, which the more worldly inhabitants of Downton Abbey took advantage of for their own personal reasons.
Daisy might have had more success staying honest if her lies had not accumulated through such an overwhelming snowball effect. Her case demonstrates Bok’s most convincing argument against lying: that deception will become a habit because lies often need to be reinforced with more lies.26 The real danger here is not the individual lie but the cumulative effect of multiple lies, each one building on the one before it. If Daisy had not led William “up the garden path,” progressing step-by-step with each additional lie, she might have been able to resist the pressures around her.
In the end, perhaps the person hurt most by Daisy’s lie was Daisy herself. She could have spared herself much guilt, anguish, and shame by being honest with William from the very beginning. But she does not have the experience, the strength of character, or the encouragement to be able to express what she sees as the truth while the community around her is pushing her toward deception.
No matter which school of ethics we use to evaluate lying, we need strength of character to carry through the decisions we make. Bates excels at this type of strength, holding to his principles even in the face of personal disaster. But Daisy is a different person: younger, inexperienced, and less certain of herself. As Downton Abbey continues, perhaps we’ll see Daisy grow as a person, as has already been hinted in her relationship with William’s father. And we can hope that the next time she faces the temptation to lie, she will not buckle under social pressures, but instead will do everything in her power to listen to her conscience and protect the relationships that are important to her.
Notes
1 Season 2, episode 4.
2 Season 2, episode 6.
3 Sissela Bok, Lying: Moral Choice in Public and Private Life (New York: Vintage, 1978), 14.
4 Augustine, “On Lying” (395), New Advent, http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/1312.htm.
5 Immanuel Kant, “On a Supposed Right to Lie because of Philanthropic Concerns,” in Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals, trans. James W. Ellington (1799; repr., Indianapolis, IN: Hackett, 1993), 8:427.
6 Immanuel Kant, The Metaphysics of Morals, trans. Mary Gregor (1797; repr., Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1996), especially “The Doctrine of Virtue,” book 1, part 1, chapter 2, section 1 (“On Lying”), 6:429–31 by the standard Academy pagination.
7 Note that this is different from saying that considerations of cost and benefit should determine whether particular lies are wrong.
8 Bok, Lying, 25.
9 Ibid., 27.
10 Ibid., 32.
11 Season 1, episodes 5 and 6.
12 St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica (1274), 2.2.109 and 2.2.110, Sacred Texts, http://www.sacred-texts.com/chr/aquinas/summa/sum365.htm and http://www.sacred-texts.com/chr/aquinas/summa/sum366.htm.
13 Bok, Lying, 85.
14 Ibid.
15 Season 1, episode 3.
16 Bok, Lying, 85.
17 Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics (1949; repr., New York: Collier Books, 1986), 365.
18 Ibid., 369.
19 Ibid., 366. For a related discussion, see chapter 5 in this book.
20 Ibid., 364–365.
21 Ibid., 372.
22 These events occurred in the second half of the first season.
23 Season 1, episode 7.
24 Bok, Lying, 99–108.
25 For more on the sources of moral knowledge, see chapter 5.
26 Bok, Lying, 64.