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Sunday, October 12, 2008

Just a Means to an End: Jane Eyre and the Categorical Imperative

Something Dr. Varner mentioned in passing caught my ear on Thursday. I don’t know if many others noticed, but as we were discussing Mrs. Fairfax and her decision to withhold the knowledge of Bertha from Jane, I couldn’t help but think of Kant’s Categorical Imperative. Then, I heard Dr. Varner say something about it!—though quietly and through a number of other voices during a brief swell in the conversation. I began thinking about it more, and I realized that the question of the categorical imperative can play a large role in determining which direction the ethical compass of certain characters is pointing. I became excited. This response is probably going to be a little longer than some of my other ones, but bear with me. Things are about to get crazy—philosophy style!

Let me begin by stating the purpose of delving into something so complex. By looking at the ways in which the characters of the novel, particularly Rochester, fail to meet the categorical imperative, we can clearly see how they fit the mold of utilitarianism. This requires further explanation. Kant’s categorical imperative is based on a number of assertions. First, human beings have free will because we are autonomous—we have the ability to govern our own person with our own laws on an individual level. Based on this primary assumption, Kant outlines three maxims that lead him to his final conclusion. First: “Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it become universal law” (Kant 30). In other words, the moral maxim must ignore any specific physical conditions that surround a particular case. It must be universally true in all cases. Kant divides this duty into two types: Perfect and Imperfect duty. We first have a perfect duty not to act by any moral maxim that cannot be universalized. An example from last week’s episode of The Office comes to mind: “It is permissible to steal.” Now, we must remember that we cannot throw in hypothetical scenarios to determine the morality of the premise. The notion of stealing presupposes the existence of property. However, if the premise were universalized, there could be no property. Therefore, there is a contradiction, and such a premise, according to our perfect duty, cannot ever be upheld. Our imperfect duty is our responsibility to uphold only maxims that we desire to be universalized. Since this duty is much more subjective, it is not as strong as perfect duty.

Kant’s second maxim is where we find the most relation to Rochester: “Act in such a way that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of an other, always at the same time as an end and never merely as a means to an end” (36). I’m sure the connection to Rochester is clear. Before we delve into a discussion of the connection to Jane Eyre, however, I want to make sure I lay this all out. The clearest example of a violation of this maxim would be slavery. In such an institution, slaves are not an end in themselves but a means to an end, whether that be picking cotton or tobacco, or whatever else we can think of. In any case, it is therefore our perfect duty not to use ourselves or another as a means to an end. Our imperfect duty is then to further the ends of ourselves and others. In other words, if we desire perfection in ourselves, we are morally obligated to help others seek such perfection equally, so long as it does not contradict perfect duty.

The third maxim situates the autonomous individual within the community. Individuals are autonomous and govern themselves, but according to the first maxim, those laws must also be made universal; therefore, they must be able to apply to others as well. Kant suggests this explanation: “Therefore, every rational being must so act as if he were through his maxim always a legislating member in the universal kingdom of ends” (43). Basically, Kant has told us how the first two maxims fit together to be plausible in real life. The primary characteristic of note in Kant’s theory: Moral acceptability is based on the act itself, not the consequences—what is known as deontological ethics. Utilitarianism is exactly the opposite. It is based on teleological ethics. In other words, the consequences of an act determine its moral acceptability. With these explanations in mind, we jump into the text.

In Chapter 23, Rochester tells Jane that he has decided to propose to Blanche Ingram and that he knows of a governess position in Ireland. Jane is distraught and confesses that Ireland is too far from Thornfield—and from Rochester himself. Rochester reveals that it is Jane whom he truly loves, and it becomes clear to the reader that his lie was intended to make Jane jealous so that he could not only gage her feelings for him but so that he could prime her for his proposal (293-9). Rochester, in what we may see as a minor way, violates Kant’s second maxim by using Jane as a means to achieve an end—acceptance of his marriage proposal. Of course, Rochester violates this maxim in arguably a much more serious way by locking Bertha in his attic and then not telling Jane about her. One more example from Kant will demonstrate the severity to which Kant bars lying from the categorical imperative. The premise “It is not permissible to lie” is universal to the extent that if asked by a murderer to reveal the location of his prey, one must answer truthfully. In comparison with this extreme example, Rochester’s playful “white lie” that he tells Jane (about Blanche Ingram) is obviously absolutely against the categorical imperative. Not only that, but because the premise “It is not permissible to lie” is universal, both of Rochester’s in these cases carry equal weight. Neither one is worse or better than the other.

But let’s go back to Rochester’s lie by omission regarding Bertha. If we, as readers, believe it is wrong, then we must ask ourselves, “Why?” His decision clearly violates the categorical imperative—based solely on the fact that he has lied, which in itself is two-fold. By locking Bertha in the attic, he is using her as a means to an end—a happier, more fulfilling life for himself and, so he says, for Bertha as well. When he lies to Jane, he uses Jane as a means to the same end. I mentioned two paragraphs earlier that utilitarianism is the exact opposite of Kantianism. If we then look at Rochester’s actions through the utilitarian perspective, he has done absolutely nothing wrong. He believes he is providing the greatest good to the greatest number of people. Of course, the reader can speculate as to why Bertha went insane, or when she went insane, but based on the text, we can only believe what Rochester says or not. If we believe that, overall, Rochester is a trustworthy man, and we recognize his adherence to utilitarianism, then all of his lies are, in fact, morally sound. Mrs. Fairfax is also a utilitarian. Her decision to not tell Jane about Bertha is a lie by omission, which is, as we’ve discussed, against the categorical imperative. Her decision is most likely based on the what the consequences would be of revealing such information. What about the morality of Jane’s decision to leave Thornfield? According to Kant, she is clearly adhering to her imperfect duty. She says, “ ‘I care for myself. [. . .] I will keep the law given by God, sanctioned by man. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane’ ” (Brontë 369). Not only does she clearly demonstrate herself to be an autonomous individual with her discussion of her own laws and principles, she is also upholding a maxim which she wants to be universal; thus, she is moving toward perfection and helping Rochester do the same—they cannot be together while he is legally married. Her decision, in terms of teleological ethics, is also sound because she perceives worse consequences if she were to go with Rochester; therefore, she chooses the action that she believes will result in the best outcome. Either way we look at Jane’s decision, we cannot fault her.

I don’t know about you, but teleological ethics sounds much easier to get behind than an ethics that cares nothing for the consequences of actions, and essentially upholds murder over lying. Philosophically speaking, however, we can’t have it both ways; that is we cannot condemn Rochester for lying while at the same time choosing teleological ethics over Kantianism—which is something we all do on a daily basis. I think a look at the categorical imperative will probably be important in our discussion of the next three novels and some of the other pieces. It certainly can apply to the previous two. If I were to get into those, however, this paper would go on another five or six pages. Therefore, I feel it is my imperfect duty to end here.

Works Cited

Brontë, Charlotte. Jane Eyre. 1847. New York: Barnes & Noble Classics, 2003.

Kant, Immanuel. Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals. 1785. Trans. James W. Ellington. 3rd ed. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1993.

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