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Flirting in The Office: What Can Jim and Pam’s Romantic Antics Teach Us About Moral Philosophy?

Mark D. White

Ah, Jim and Pam, Pam and Jim, sigh … Sitcom audiences just love romance, and the more tortured the relationships, the better. We had Sam and Diane, David and Maddie, Frank and Hot-Lips, Michael and KITT … the list goes on and on. But there weren’t just sparks (or spark plugs) in these hot couples. They also had something else in common—they worked together. (That’s why I didn’t mention Ross and Rachel—Friends is finished, people, get over it!)

Of course, Jim and Pam haven’t actually dated—at least not when I wrote this chapter. (And I haven’t watched since then—don’t tell me what happens!) They certainly each know how the other feels, and they’ve even kissed, but mostly they flirt, flirt, and then flirt some more. (And then date other people.) But again, it’s not just flirting, but flirting in the office—The Office, to be precise.

Is this a problem? In the real world, workplace romances are a sticky issue, and for many reasons. Obviously, there’s the issue of other relationships—for instance, Pam flirting with Jim while engaged to Roy can be considered infidelity to some degree, though people will disagree about how serious it is. (And we know how Roy feels about that, don’t we?) But that issue isn’t specific to workplace flirting and dating, so we won’t worry about it here. (Roy, however, will—you can count on that.)

When considering workplace dating in particular, the most serious problem is sexual harassment, especially when a superior is involved (or wants to be involved) with someone he or she supervises. (Think of Jan and Michael—or Michael and Ryan!) Considering everybody’s favorite Dunder-Mifflin couple—no, not Angela and Dwight—we have to remember after all that Jim is Assistant Regional Manager. Another issue is the effect of such romantic canoodling on the company itself. We know that other Dunder-Mifflin employees have noticed Jim and Pam’s flirting, which can affect morale, especially if they see Pam favored by Jim in assigning work. And that points to a more basic issue—what if Jim favors Pam, or evaluates her less harshly than he otherwise would? Dunder-Mifflin’s profitability could be affected if Pam were a horrible receptionist but were allowed to stay because of Jim’s feelings for her.

In this chapter, we’ll examine these issues in light of several prominent theories of ethics: act utilitarianism, rule utilitarianism, and deontology. What relevance does each of these concepts have to the issue of office flirting and dating? We’ll hear from most of the Dunder-Mifflin Scranton crew along the way—a little too much from Kelly, but you know Kelly! Now into the conference room, everybody, because it’s time to start, and don’t worry—Michael did not prepare a movie or a rap video.

Someone Get The Lights (Oh No …)

One group of ethical theories would say that office flirting or dating is bad if it lowers total happiness or “utility.” These theories are known generally as utilitarianism, but utilitarianism comes in many different varieties—just like paper products.1 (True fans know that The Office is not about the people who work there—it’s about the paper. Paper rules.) Versions of utilitarianism that focus on individual actions and their effect on utility are called act utilitarianism. Other versions that focus on rules or guidelines for action, and their general effects on utility, are known as rule utilitarianism. There are pros and cons to each, as we will see when we apply each to the most pressing ethical issue of our time: workplace nookie.

If Jim and Pam were to reflect on the morality of their flirtation, they might ask themselves—after asking if there’s any way to use philosophy to torture Dwight²—how their flirting affects the well-being or utility of those affected by it. Presumably, they themselves enjoy it, so that’s a plus. (Viewers obviously enjoy it too, but let’s not break the fourth wall here!) But, as we mentioned before, it may affect their co-workers, or even Dunder-Mifflin itself, negatively—that’s a minus. In act utilitarianism, the balance of the good and bad determines the overall effect of Jim and Pam’s carrying on.

So what Jim and Pam will have to do is go around the office and ask each and every one of their co-workers—even Dwight—how their, uh, special friendship affects him or her. (For instance, Kelly would squeal with glee, Creed would ask for pictures, and Toby would just cry.) And then they have to examine all the ways their flirtation may affect the Dunder-Mifflin bottom line—go to corporate, meet with Jan, bring in a few consultants …

Ugh—this is really hard.³ Doesn’t seem to have much to do with right and wrong, does it? And isn’t that what ethics is supposed to be about? “This seems more like, uh, math!” Yes, Kelly, it does—the effects of an action on utility can be a matter of intense computation if they are wide-ranging and uncertain. There are also issues of quantifying the utility changes—how do we compare the tender feelings of Jim and Pam to the adverse effects on Dunder-Mifflin’s stock price? Given that there is no easy way to do this, Jim and Pam could always claim they are so happy with their odd, Zen-like state of togetherness-without-being-together that it exceeds all negative impact of it on anyone else. And how can we prove that it doesn’t?

Who Likes Rules? (Put Your Hand Down, Dwight!)

For these reasons, and many more, most philosophers shy away from act utilitarianism like Pam avoids thongs, and adopt some version of rule utilitarianism, which side steps the problem of assessing each individual action and instead judges a general practice or institution. For instance, act utilitarianism is often criticized for condoning punishment of the innocent, such as framing an innocent man for an unsolved murder if it would help deter future murders. Common sense would say that couldn’t possibly be right, but artful manipulation of the costs and benefits would easily justify such an act by demonstrating an increase in utility. (A more realistic example may be torturing a terror suspect in hopes of extracting information that could save thousands of innocent lives.)

But surely a government that practiced such actions would be reviled, and would likely result in widespread disenchantment, civil unrest, and perhaps revolution? While one instance of punishing the innocent may increase utility, adopting the practice of doing so would not. Rule utilitarians prefer this sort of reasoning, because it avoids the case-by-case, detailed examination of costs and benefits, and instead evaluates the general practice of the action in question.

This is the approach that most businesses take to problems such as office dating. They realize that not every instance of office dating will be harmful, but in general they feel that it lowers morale, weakens the chain of command, and may even lower profits. Jim and Pam could appeal to the human resources department (skipping Toby, for obvious reasons), arguing that none of these negative effects would occur in their relationship. But HR would likely reply, “that’s the policy—sometimes we block harmless relationships, but if the policy results in more harm than good, then the policy works.” In other words, the rule maximizes utility across all the instances of workplace dating, even though some great relationships are wrecked along the way.

The fact that rule utilitarianism comments on practices in general and not particular acts lends it the flavor of distinguishing between right and wrong that we “want” from our ethical systems. Or does it? Well, rule utilitarianism doesn’t actually say that, for instance, office dating is always bad, just that it tends to be bad more often than not, and for that reason the company forbids it. So if we’re looking for definitive statements on right and wrong with all the authority of Michael—or even more—rule utilitarianism may not give it to us.

Another problem with rule utilitarianism is that despite all its good intentions, act utilitarianism tends to rear its ugly head. Let’s suppose that Dunder-Mifflin forbids office dating, and corporate explains the rationale so that everyone seems fine with it. But then Jim and Pam make a case that while they agree that office dating in general is bad, their relationship is good—their co-workers don’t mind, morale won’t suffer, there are no sexual harassment issues, and since Jim doesn’t evaluate Pam or assign her duties, there’s no favoritism to threaten the bottom line. Their case to corporate would be: prohibiting office dating completely may increase utility over allowing it freely, but prohibiting it while making an exception for Jim and Pam would increase it even more.

I Think We’ve Got A Problem … Don’t Tell Ryan!

The general problem for a policy justified by rule utilitarianism is this: How do you handle exceptions that would clearly increase utility? If the government followed a policy of not punishing innocent persons, but then came across an instance in which making an exception to that policy would definitely increase well-being, what then is the rationale for sticking to the policy? In that instance, adhering to the policy would lower utility. One of the benefits of rule utilitarianism is that it eliminates the need to make case-by-case evaluations of acts, but that doesn’t mean we can’t, or that it makes that evaluation irrelevant when the results are obviously positive. So it’s not at all inconsistent for Jim and Pam to say, “we understand the policy against office dating, we agree with it in general, but we should not be subject to it because we know our relationship will increase utility.”

Rule utilitarians can argue that exceptions destroy the value of a policy—in other words, a rule subject to exceptions isn’t truly a rule. If Michael enforces a Hawaiian dress code at Dunder-Mifflin Scran-ton, but lets Pam out of it because she says she’s allergic to macadamia nuts, and then lets Stanley out of it to show Michael’s solidarity with African-Americans, and then Angela because she was offended when Michael said “we’re all getting lei’d,” and so on … Well, it’s not much of a policy if Michael and Dwight end up the only ones following it. To some extent, the utilitarian value of a rule or policy depends on how strictly it’s enforced, so even if there are exceptions which would increase utility by themselves, they would reduce the value of the rule by more, and therefore lower overall utility. But this still allows for cases when the exception is so beneficial, it would outweigh the harm done to the institution, and we’re back at the beginning.4

We could also consider issues of authority—even if Jim and Pam are right, they do not have discretion to disobey a policy from “above.” Even if their relationship were harmless, and it would not endanger the anti-dating policy itself, they would be flouting the authority of the company leaders to set policies regarding allowable interactions among employees. This would be another sort of disutility that would speak against even the best relationships—but still, if the relationship would provide enough benefit, well, anything is possible (or permissible).

When you get down to it, in the end—don’t say it, Michael—any sort of utilitarianism is the process of adding up benefits and harms, pleasures and pains, and seeing whether the total is positive or negative. Some may feel that such a process—highly contingent on the particular characteristics of any one ethical decision—does not reflect the strength and universality of true morality. Such scholars favor a general type of ethics known as deontology—

“Deontology—oh, right, like Tom Cruise? I love him!”

No, Kelly, deontology is—

“Not as much as Ryan, of course, but I mean, like, if Tom Cruise asked me out, I’d be like, totally, what about Katie? But then I really wouldn’t care—I mean, it’s Tom Cruise, and he’s so gorgeous, and rich—HE’S SO RICH—we wouldn’t have to go to Chili’s all the time, and …”

(Poor Ryan. No wonder he usually made Toby look giddy in comparison.)

Anyway, a deontological approach judges an act by properties intrinsic to the act itself, rather than any consequences the act may have. For instance, because of the inherent dignity or rights of persons, punishing the innocent is simply wrong to a deontologist. A deontologist would hold that no considerations of utility would ever justify punishing an innocent person. Likewise, deontologists usually forbid telling lies or breaking promises, no matter how beneficial doing so in this case would be. This is not because such practices are generally harmful (though they may be), but because doing these things is wrong, a judgment based on the actions themselves—the consequences, good or bad, play no role in deontological statements of right or wrong.⁵

So if a deontologist decided that office dating was wrong, that’s it, end of story—you just don’t do it.⁶ Jim and Pam can’t appeal to the personal happiness their union would create, nor do they have to dispute the possible harm done to their co-workers or Dunder-Mifflin—none of this matters to a deontologist. But that still leaves the question—would a deontologist have a problem with office dating?

Well, it doesn’t help that there are many understandings of the term “deontology.” In an article exploring the topic, philosopher Jerry Gaus found ten different (and not entirely consistent) meanings of “deontology.”⁷ But most of them focus on some sense of obligation or duty that transcends any consideration of utility or well-being, such as a duty to tell the truth even when the truth may hurt somebody. (Examples: “Kevin, your band Scrantonicity probably won’t be offered the opening slot on The Police reunion tour,” or “Dwight, you’re assistant to the regional manager,” or telling Karen anything about Jim and Pam’s past.) Since they can’t be based on consequences, these duties or obligations are often based on rights, which are themselves grounded in various ways, such as human dignity, equal treatment or respect, or legal/political convention.⁸

So can we find any duties that would be threatened by office romance? Well, the easiest would be the duty of an employee to obey company policy, based on the agreement he or she made when the job was taken, but that doesn’t provide a rationale for the policy itself. And I’m going to assume that sexual harassment violates deontological ethics, based on its violation of personal dignity and equality. What we need is a justification for denying one employee the right to hang out at another employee’s reception desk for half the day, planning oh-so-cute practical jokes on other employees (usually with names that rhyme with “night”).

This is more difficult than it may seem. (Thanks to Michael, I can no longer use the word h-a-r-d-e-r. Sadly, spelling the word seems to get around this problem.) Based on ideals of equal treatment, an employee such as Jim has a duty not to show undue preference toward some employees with regard to evaluation or work assignments based on personal feelings. But if Jim is careful not to do this, or removes himself from situations where this may be a problem, then that duty would not be endangered by his relationship with Pam. Along similar lines, Jim has a duty to perform his own job responsibilities without undue distraction (for instance, if Pam ever wears the clothes she bought online while he was in Stamford). But again, if he is careful, this won’t be a problem.

Let’s approach this from the other direction—might there be deontological arguments supporting employees’ right to make goo-goo eyes at each other? Do Jim and Pam have a valid moral right to their flirtation? In one view, it really comes down to a right to privacy, which most philosophers believe is not absolute. Privacy rights grant people the right to do anything not forbidden by duties to the contrary, or that interfere with other people’s rights (which in turn generates a duty not to do such a thing). In that view, since we were unable to support any firm duties against office dating, we would conclude that employees do have such a right. But that seems like shaky ground to support a right, since it is only valid as long as no one provides a duty to contradict it.

So Who Wins? Somebody’s Gotta Win, Right?

In the end,9 it would seem that in the absence of sexual harassment issues—the reason behind many corporate office dating policies— there is little deontological rationale for forbidding flirting or dating between co-workers, or for giving employees the right to date co-workers. We may have to dip back into the utilitarian punch bowl to settle the question of the pros and cons of office dating, and that opens the door to all of the objections covered earlier.

Does this speak against deontology as a general approach to addressing ethical issues? Not at all—remember, there are many varieties of deontology, and many concepts other than rights to support them (as well as many concepts of rights themselves), so one or more of them may fit this issue. Plus, even if deontology doesn’t help with office dating, there are—seriously—other, possibly more pressing moral issues in the world, such as bringing strippers to the office for bachelor and bachelorette parties, or distributing vacation photos of your semi-nude boss over the company email system. (Not to mention terrorism, world hunger, and the continuing popularity of American Idol.)

So Jim and Pam, you two crazy kids go ahead and flirt until 5 p.m. every day like you always do. The deontologists cannot stop you. Just be on the look-out for nasty, vengeful utilitarians—or Roy. Or Angela. Or Toby. (Mark my words, someday that guy’s gonna snap, and it will be just like Milton at the end of Office Space–oops, wrong “office.”) Mind you, we didn’t touch other areas of ethics, like virtue ethics, but we’ll leave that for “Jim Loves Pam” and Philosophy, the follow-up book covering the best spin-off ever! (And no, I didn’t forget Joey—though I wish I could.)

NOTES

¹ The “classic” utilitarians include Jeremy Bentham, John Stuart Mill, and Henry Sidgwick. For modern debates over utilitarianism (or the more general theory of consequentialism), see J. J. C. Smart and Bernard Williams, Utilitarianism: For and Against (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973) and Samuel Scheffler (ed.), Consequentialism and Its Critics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988).

² Then they’d giggle, Jim would give one of his innocent “who me?” looks to the camera, and they’d part, only to succumb to their irresistible mutual attraction after the next commercial break. But you know that, or you wouldn’t be reading this book.

³ “That’s what she said” (Michael Scott, 2007).

⁴ For a comprehensive summary of arguments for and against rule utilitarianism (or, more generally, rule consequentialism), see Brad Hooker’s entry on “Rule Consequentialism” at the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (www.plato.stanford.edu/entries/consequentialism-rule/).

⁵ Major deontological thinkers include Immanuel Kant and W. D. Ross; see note 7 for a recent paper surveying the subject.

⁶ Just between you and me, there are always exceptions. Kant made room for apparently conflicting duties (I say “apparently” because duties can never truly conflict in Kantian ethics, but obligations can), and Ross wrote only of prima facie duties, which can conflict with others. Both of these ideas open the door for exceptions, but not nearly as easily as utilitarianism does.

⁷ Gerald F. Gaus, “What Is Deontology? Part One: Orthodox Views,” Journal of Value Inquiry 35(2001), 27–42.

⁸ For an excellent introduction to rights, see William Edmundson’s cleverly titled An Introduction to Rights (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004).

⁹ Nothing? He must not have gotten this far …