I must begin this article with two prefatory remarks:
- I’ve been watching way too much Downton Abbey.
- To any prospective employer: please do not hold the next sentence against me.
Our democratic, capitalistic, (pseudo) meritocratic way of life is seriously imperfect. That’s right, I said it.
When I say imperfect, I am not suggesting that there are improvements we can make. I do not mean to propose alterations to the size and scope of regulations. I am not even critiquing the functioning of our markets; I, for the purposes of this article, want to call their very existence into question.
Now, for those impoverished spirits who have not yet had the chance to watch Downton Abbey, this PBS Masterpiece Theater drama is about an aristocratic British family in the early 20th century. In part, the show depicts the family’s encounter with a rapidly changing social environment—the women’s’ suffrage movement, evolving attitudes about sex, constant technological innovation—that puts their landed, aristocratic way of life into a great deal of doubt.
So why do my two introductory remarks belong together?
Because what Downton Abbey’s Crawley family is resisting is, in some sense, the encroachment of markets.
Economic development and the rise of the middle class intrude in their lifestyle. Lord and Lady Grantham are accustomed to being at the top of a stagnant food chain, and expanding markets will—as history can attest—overturn the established order and herald the promise of socioeconomic mobility.
Folks who would have formerly had no reason to believe that they could advance their station now believe that hard work promises rewards. In consequence, the traditionalists in power during the time of Downton Abbey feared that they would be deposed in a protracted reenactment of the French Revolution.
Others who have become Downton groupies would probably agree that the show is not very nuanced.
It depicts love and tragedy only, without much restraint when it comes to dramatic excesses. We are swung wildly from highs to lows, and then back again. One does not watch the show to be challenged.
We watch it to feel the grandeur of Downton—in terms of the emotions of its inhabitants and the luxury of the setting.
Yet the show is actually quite cagey when it comes to answering the historical period’s dominating question: Is the march of progress good or bad?
In the show, we find women who finally reach for lives beyond the domesticity of the home. We observe servants that proudly assert their ambitions for a better life. And, like the good 21st century inheritors of social and economic progress, we rejoice for these characters.
However, there are other characters and events that complicate this endorsement of progress. We sympathize with those fighting to maintain the integrity of the estate.
Our hearts are warmed by the devotion of servants who find dignity and satisfaction in contributing to the running of a grand mannor house. Indeed, the series does not compel us to wish for the dismantling of Downton despite the fact that such a grandiose lifestyle should feel outdated.
So, how ought we deal with this ambivalence? Some may suggest that the viewer’s appreciation of Downton’s aesthetic is just nostalgia. Such luxury is impossible nowadays, so the beauty we find in it is quite harmless.
I disagree. In fact, I think that Downton’s nimble navigation of the “progress question” helps to reveal certain shortcomings in the centuries-long rise of our own capitalistic and democratic society.
Today’s America has a troubled relationship with wealth. We understand the drive for wealth as the dominant catalyst of our economic system. And yet, we deal very poorly with it once we have wealth of our own.
This impoverishment of the rich manifests itself in two dominant ways.
In the first instance, there are wealthy folks in this country who view their success as entirely derivative of their own labor and virtues. They become horridly self-righteous, flouting laws and decency.
We get a whiff of this in stories of the unwieldy decadence of America’s super-rich. We also witness this in a particular brand of conservative politics where the ideology of free markets is used as a smoke screen for brash indifference to the welfare of the rest of society.
On the other hand, there are those who deal with their wealth by being ashamed of it. Haven’t you seen those table tents in Moulton—the ones with privilege written as a dirty word?
I do not wish to criticize the attempt to develop a discourse around the peculiar position of resource-rich Bowdoin. But, it cannot be denied that the impetus for a significant chunk of Bowdoin’s programming comes from an acute embarrassment—that we will be labeled privileged or rich or elitist.
We worry because we live in a society that pretends to offer equivalence between democratic free markets and equal opportunity. It is not hard to see this for the myth that it is.
So, what does Downton Abbey teach us? Well, certainly not to completely renounce our faith in social mobility and progress. And certainly not to see all wealth as a product of corruption and injustice.
I think the lesson is to cope with life’s arbitrary outcomes with measured dosages of confidence and humility. There is no one who has totally earned his or her lot in life. We should remain mindful of that.
And yet, if we are privileged enough to have wealth—in whatever form—then we should not be shy to use it for beautiful and even grand displays. We should not only be philanthropists and work to pay back the society that made us what we are, though that is important.
We must also learn from the noble Crawley family: privilege worn well—with compassion and boldness—can be an inspiration to people on every rung of the societal ladder.
Beauty and refinement need not only antagonize. In the proper spirit, they can harmonize us too.