Angelica Walker-Werth reflects on the Jane Austen classic.
250 years ago, a girl was born in England who would grow up to change the world of romance novels forever: Jane Austen. As Janeites the world over celebrate the anniversary of her birth, liberty lovers should take the opportunity to ask: What can we learn from Austen’s remarkable classics today? At first, this may seem odd, since Austen wrote primarily about relationships (romantic, familial, and platonic). But a proper political philosophy is firmly grounded in a coherent ethical philosophy; the extension of “how should I act?” is “how should people interact in a society?” Thus, many ethical lessons have political parallels or tie-ins.
In Emma, the titular character goes through a clear and instructive character arc: She learns not to interfere in her friends’ relationships. The novel starts out with Emma seemingly succeeding in her matchmaking when her former governess, Miss Taylor, marries the kind and handsome Mr. Weston. Emma, we learn, helped to bring the marriage about by smoothing over little troubles and helping the pair spend more time together. She then sets her sights on developing an advantageous match for her new friend, the young and impressionable Harriet Smith.
Emma embarks on this quest with the best of intentions. She wants her friends to be happy and materially comfortable; for women in Regency-era England, an advantageous marriage was a huge factor in the former and the best way to secure the latter. However, in trying to help Harriet as much as possible, she ignores relevant facts, from her friend’s feelings for another man to Harriet’s unknown parentage to the targeted groom’s disinterest. As a result, the plan backfires spectacularly, causing significant emotional distress. Austen describes her reflecting on the errors: “With insufferable vanity had she believed herself in the secret of everybody’s feelings; with unpardonable arrogance proposed to arrange everybody’s destiny. She was proved to have been universally mistaken; and she had not quite done nothing — for she had done mischief. She had brought evil on Harriet [and] on herself” (1809).1
Emma is ashamed at the results of her actions and resolves to leave everyone to their own affairs in matters of the heart going forward. It’s worth noting that she didn’t have to learn this lesson the hard way. Mr. Knightley, an old family friend, warns Emma early on in the novel that “A straightforward, open-hearted man like Weston, and a rational, unaffected woman like Miss Taylor, may be safely left to manage their own concerns. You are more likely to have done harm to yourself, than good to them, by interference” (1390). If she had paid more heed to the evidence or to Mr. Knightley’s advice, she would have realised the danger of interfering in others’ lives.
And it is not only for practical reasons that one shouldn’t interfere in others’ lives; there’s a moral reason, too. As Mr. Knightley’s words indicate, people have the ability to think through their circumstances and to know what’s best for them individually, and using that ability and thinking for oneself is core to becoming independent. Such independence enables us to build lives that work for us, no matter what others think. By trying to plan others’ lives for them, Emma disregards her friends’ rational abilities and works against their independence. The latter is certainly the case for Harriet, who Mr. Knightley tells Mrs. Weston, “knows nothing herself, and looks upon Emma as knowing every thing (1317).” Emma takes advantage of that admiration to lead Harriet the way she thinks is right—and thereby undermines Harriet’s developing ability to think for herself and make her own decisions.
Just as Emma had genuinely good intentions for her friend, so some legislators and political activists have good intentions for the people they’re regulating. But just as Emma’s interference undermines her friends’ independence, ignores relevant facts, and prevents people from acting on their judgment, so too does an overreaching government—and further, the latter initiates force to do so. Government officials may look at certain goals—everyone having a retirement fund, for instance—as obviously good. Having money to live on when we’re too old to work is good. But by stepping in and making decisions for us (such as forcing people to pay into a fund that provides everyone with money when they retire), governments are ignoring the fact that each working individual has the ability to make decisions for him- or herself—decisions that take into account their full context. Perhaps at some points in their life they want to pay more, and at other times, less. Perhaps they’re comfortable with more risk if there’s the possibility of higher reward, and so on. And the opportunity cost is not the only harm this policy does; Social Security fraud in the United States, for example, costs taxpayers billions each year—Investopedia estimated $13.6 billion in 2022. Even when well-intentioned, government intervention into our lives is morally wrong and practically disastrous.
All analogies break down somewhere, of course. Governments use force; Emma, only persuasion. Emma knows her friends’ circumstances better than governments know each of us. And governments have a much broader ability to affect our lives. But the lesson Emma learns is one that politicians everywhere need to learn (or be reminded of): Interfering with people’s lives is wrong. Just as Mr. Knightley helps Emma see the error of her ways, we liberty lovers can help governments and advocates of government intervention see the error of theirs. And just as Emma and her friends enjoy a happy ending, we can improve our happiness and prosperity through such efforts.
1 Page numbers come from The Complete Works of Jane Austen (In One Volume), Pandora’s Box, Kindle Edition.
