Say what you like against civilization, it comes in dashed handy in a crisis like this. It may be a purely artificial code that keeps a father from hoofing his daughter’s kisser when they are fellow guests at a house, but at this moment I felt that I could do with all the purely artificial codes that were going.
– P. G. Wodehouse, Thank You, Jeeves
Philippa Foot famously declared that “[c]onsiderations of etiquette do not have any automatic reason-giving force, and a man might be right if he denied that he had any reason to do ‘what’s done,’” (Foot 1977, 309). But speaking frankly, I’ve always found this attitude hard to get a handle on. Much of our normative lives—what we feel we should do, have reason to do, what guides our behavior, and so on—has explicitly to do with “what’s done.” It’s important, for instance, to RSVP, to show up on time or at least “fashionably” late, to wait until you’ve ordered your coffee before setting one’s stuff down on a scarce table. We educate our kids to be polite to avoid rudeness. We feel embarrassed if, showing up at a gathering, we’re the only ones not in costume.
These reflections seem quite naturally to point to the following conclusion, viz., that contrary to Foot, we do, in fact, have reason to do what’s done.
But why? What could be the explanation for the fact that I have a reason to put on a costume for a fancy-dress ball I’m attending despite my horror at so doing? Why should we be so concerned about following the proper manner of passing dishes when dining in a foreign land?
Some recent thinkers on this subject have offered the following explanation: that, despite first appearances, doing what’s done is morally important. Sarah Buss (1999) suggests that conforming to principles of manners plays “an essential role in our moral life. What’s more, playing this role is the essential function of good manners…” (Buss 1999, 795). Agreeing in broad strokes, Karen Stohr holds that “principles of manners are moral principles” (Stohr 2011, 25). Laura Valentini has recently argued that social conventions of the sort we have in mind here have a crucial form of moral significance: respect for the agency of those with whom one interacts (Valentini 2024).
We call this “assimilationism,” because it attempts to assimilate reasons to do what’s done into morality. When we act rudely, fail to dress appropriately at a party, and so on, we fail a fundamental moral obligation (at least prima facie).
But I find this explanation strained. Take the account offered by Buss. She holds that “[t]he reason why manners play such an important role in moral education is simply because they enable people to acknowledge one another’s special dignity” (Buss 1999, 801). Furthermore, this sort of behavior is important because failure to treat another person politely can have injurious effects when it comes to their own self-understanding: “good manners are essential to acknowledging the intrinsic value of anyone who deserves to be treated with respect. It is precisely because treating people with courtesy is a direct way of acknowledging their dignity that treating them rudely can undermine their belief in their own intrinsic worth” (Buss 1999, 803). Failure to RSVP, for instance, would appear to reflect a belief that the host’s interest in proper planning has no significance for you; after all, it would be virtually costless to say whether or not you plan to come, and in failing to do so you fail to respect one’s host as a person of dignity.
This is plausible. But, the normative pull of “what’s done” goes far beyond what could or should be assimilated into this approach to the moral domain. Take, for instance, differing dining practices in foreign nations. Plausibly, there is a reason to conform. But if we fail to conform, possibly because we’re not used to the practice or don’t know what it is, do we fail to “acknowledge the intrinsic value” of our hosts? Do we “undermine their belief in their own intrinsic worth?” Surely not. It would take a profoundly irrational host for a visiting foreign guest’s table faux pas to undermine their own belief in their intrinsic worth or for anyone to interpret such a mistake as a lack or failure of moral respect. And surely, we know this—but it still seems important to educate oneself on local customs and to act upon them.
Of course, I don’t have space here to respond in detail to all such assimilationist proposals, many of which are ingenious. But consider the alternative, viz., non-assimilationism. This view holds that we have reason to do what’s done because that’s what’s done. Manners, etiquette, protocol, social conventions, and so on, have normativity because they are, in fact, the conventions in the social context in which one finds oneself. No further explanation or assimilation into morality is required.
Not only does this view accord with our normative phenomenology (“Why didn’t you do that?” “Because that would have been rude!”), it has a broad explanatory umbrella. Consider the following case(s). Let’s say I attended a concert by the legendary Sonny Rollins. I erupted with applause and loud vocal cheers when he finished a blistering improvised solo. Rollins gratefully acknowledges my appreciation and turns the song over to the next soloist. The next night, I attended a concert by the legendary Glenn Gould. When he finished a profoundly demanding passage of a Chopin étude, I erupt with applause and loud vocal cheers. I am, with a great deal of warmth, ushered out of the concert hall.
Assimilationism must hold that my behavior in the case of Sonny Rollins was morally appropriate, but the identical behavior in the case of Glenn Gould was morally impermissible. But this seems a difficult task! Surely, my orientation toward both performers is identical; surely, neither of them could think that they are of less intrinsic worth, given my eruption. Ultimately—or so it seems to me—the best explanation of why I have reason to keep my applause to myself until the end of the piece in the case of Gould but have perfect permission to whoop and holler after Sonny Rollins’ excellent solo, is that doing so is rude in the case of Gould, but polite in the case of Rollins, given the context (jazz versus classical performance).
So I suggest that when we’re concerned about doing what’s done and justify ourselves in terms of social graces or conventions, we allow ourselves the luxury of holding that these reasons need not be filtered through morality or any other normative domain. We do what’s done because that’s what’s done.
The post Doing What’s Done first appeared on Blog of the APA.
Read the full article which is published on APA Online (external link)
