Chapter 6
“Why Would She Want to Be a Secretary?”
Paternalism in Downton Abbey
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.
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:
1. The chooser is “competent.”
2. He or she does not choose under coercion or duress.
3. He or she does not choose because of more subtle manipulation.
4. He or she does not choose because of ignorance or mistaken belief.
5. He or she does not choose in circumstances that are temporarily distorting.10
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
We must allow for the possibility that the man may have intended to cross an unsafe bridge—perhaps he liked to live dangerously or didn’t want to live at all—but most people would agree that the officer was justified in assuming the man was simply unaware of the danger and pulling him away.
Of course, we question the quality of other people’s decision-making processes all the time, usually in less dire circumstances than in Mill’s example. Along with the rest of the family, Lord Grantham tried to prevent his youngest daughter, Sybil, from marrying the family’s chauffeur, Branson. He clearly doubted her choice, but was this because he doubted it was made voluntarily—perhaps in ignorance of the social consequences of such a marriage—or simply because he disagreed with the choice she made?
This is an important point, because Feinberg’s five conditions are procedural, questioning the integrity of the decision-making process rather than the substance of the choice itself. Sometimes, however, a person’s choice is judged to be involuntary simply because the external observer doesn’t agree with the choice itself, perhaps believing that “no sane person” could have made such a choice. Coercive interference for this reason is sometimes called hard paternalism, as opposed to the soft paternalism of pulling the man from the unsafe bridge, and is a clear case of value substitution masquerading as a concern with competency to choose.12
The Dowager Countess Will Love This Section
The more controversial argument for questioning people’s choices stems from recent work in behavioral psychology and economics and can be considered another example of less-than-voluntary choice (in addition to the five given by Feinberg). Research in decision making has discovered many cognitive dysfunctions and biases that can steer our choices away from our interests. For example, we have natural tendencies to procrastinate, freely choosing to put off important tasks and waste time doing something else, even though it endangers and frustrates our goals. For example, we may delay signing up for a retirement program, even when we know it’s in our best interest, which results in a lower level of wealth in old age. (Perhaps this isn’t a concern for Matthew, but it certainly is for the rest of us!)
In their 2008 book Nudge, economist Richard Thaler and legal scholar Cass Sunstein argued for what they termed libertarian paternalism, by which the government and businesses make small adjustments to options to guide people to make better choices (ostensibly in their own interests).13 For instance, they suggest that new employees be enrolled automatically in 401(k) retirement plans with an option to withdraw, rather than simply having an option to enroll. Thaler and Sunstein assume that it is in people’s true interests to enroll but that laziness or procrastination will delay them. In one of their academic papers on the topic, they wrote the following:
If employers think (correctly, we believe) that most employees would prefer to join the 401(k) plan if they took the time to think about it . . . then by choosing automatic enrollment, they are acting paternalistically by our definition of the term . . . steer[ing] employees’ choices in directions that will, in the view of employers, promote employees’ welfare.14
The problem, of course, is in determining what the employees would prefer “if they took the time to think about it,” or in the absence of any cognitive dysfunctions or biases. Libertarian paternalists presume to help people make the choices they “would have made” if they could make perfect decisions, but they still need information about people’s true interests to make this determination. Since they can’t access that information, their values are necessarily substituted for people’s own true interests—such as the presumed interest in retirement savings. Some individual employees, for instance, may actually have any number of higher priorities for their income (such as saving for a down payment on a new home).15
Had Lord Grantham discovered Sybil and Branson’s love affair earlier, he certainly would have tried to “nudge” her in a different direction. We can suppose that he would think her plans to run away to Ireland with Branson were unduly influenced by her emotions, and “had she been in her right mind,” she would have made a choice better suited to further her true interests. An old-school paternalist would have forbade the marriage (as did social mores at the time), but a libertarian paternalist would have simply rearranged her “choice environment” to result in a better decision (for her, of course, for her). Perhaps he could have tried to make Branson less attractive in her eyes or presented her with suitors who would appeal to her progressive mind-set but also be more appropriate socially (if that were possible). The key element in his libertarian paternalism would have been to allow Sybil to make a free choice, but among carefully arranged and tailored options, in order to arrive at the decision that she “would have made anyway”—or, at least, as her father sees it.
Although the show is set in a country and an era with rigid class distinctions, Downton Abbey portrays most of the nobility and service staff treating one another with care and respect, as befits people who live in such close quarters (both upstairs and downstairs). No one stood in the way of Gwen’s hopes to become a secretary; in fact, Sybil went to extraordinary lengths to help her secure interviews and eventually get a job. In doing so, she showed respect for Gwen’s goals as well as care in helping her achieve them.
Paternalism, too, is often motivated by good intentions—legitimate concern for others—but it should always be tempered by respect for others’ choices and interests. There is a certain degree of hubris involved whenever one group of people thinks it knows what is in other people’s true interests better than they do and then forces or “nudges” them into making choices in those presumed interests. If even the British aristocracy could avoid this hubris in dealing with their servants, maybe there’s hope for the rest of us!
Notes
1 Gerald Dworkin, “Paternalism,” in Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Stanford University, http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/paternalism/.
2 John Stuart Mill, On Liberty, ed. David Spitz (1859; repr., New York: W. W. Norton, 1975), 10–11.
3 This conception of autonomy can be traced to a belief in self-ownership. See John Locke, Two Treatises of Government (1690), Gutenberg, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/7370/old/trgov10h.htm; and Peter Vallentyne, “Self-Ownership,” in “Libertarianism,” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Stanford University, http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/libertarianism/#1.
4 Immanuel Kant, “On the Proverb: That May Be True in Theory, But Is of No Practical Use,” in Perpetual Peace and Other Essays, trans. T. Humphrey (1793; repr., Indianapolis, IN: Hackett, 1983), 72–73. (The Academy pagination is 8:290–291, standard in any reputable edition of Kant’s work.)
5 Dan W. Brock, “Paternalism and Autonomy,” Ethics 98 (1988): 551.
6 For more on the changing nature of British class distinctions during this era, see David Cannadine, The Decline and Fall of the British Aristocracy (New York: Vintage Books, 1999).
7 Of course, O’Brien’s concern for Cora is at times overwhelmed by her own self-interest; see chapter 4 in this book.
8 The perceptive reader will no doubt note that Violet is not here recommending any paternalistic action to prevent Gwen from leaving service. However, later in the same (epic) dinner conversation, she does hint at it:
Mary: What do you say, Mr. Pamuk? Should our housemaid be kept enslaved or forced out into the world?
Mr. Pamuk: Why are you English so curious about other people’s lives? If she wishes to leave, and the law permits it, then let her go.
Violet: Perhaps the law should not permit it—for the common good.
By definition, the “common good” is not a paternalistic concern, but it can sometimes substitute for people’s own interests as the motivation (and political cover) for paternalistic acts.
9 Claire A. Hill, “Anti-Anti-Anti-Paternalism,” New York University Journal of Law & Liberty 2 (2007): 448.
10 Joel Feinberg, Harm to Self (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 1986), 115 (adapted from Diagram 20-5).
11 Mill, On Liberty, 89.
12 On hard and soft paternalism, see Joel Feinberg, “Legal Paternalism,” in Rights, Justice, and the Bounds of Liberty: Essays in Social Philosophy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1980), 110–129.
13 Richard H. Thaler and Cass R. Sunstein, Nudge: Improving Decisions about Health, Wealth, and Happiness (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2008).
14 Cass R. Sunstein and Richard H. Thaler, “Libertarian Paternalism Is Not an Oxymoron,” University of Chicago Law Review 70 (2001): 1172–1173.
15 For more on the criticism of libertarian paternalism (including the term itself), see Mark D. White, “Behavioral Law and Economics: The Assault on Consent, Will, and Dignity,” in New Essays on Philosophy, Politics and Economics: Integration and Common Research Projects, ed. Gerald Gaus, Christi Favor, and Julian Lamont (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2010), 203–223.