What Kazuo Ishiguro Teaches Us About Dignity

“I trusted I was doing something worthwhile. I can’t even say I made my own mistakes. Really — one has to ask oneself — what dignity is there in that?”

When Stevens looks at the rolling English countryside, he finds beauty not in the landscape’s features but in its absence of “obvious drama or spectacle.” In contrast to the breathtaking vistas of canyons, waterfalls, and mountains that he finds “superficially dramatic” of other nations, what Stevens values is Great Britain’s restraint — its dignified lack of need to flaunt what it knows makes it great. This conception of dignity as greatness maps on to Stevens’ broader reflections about what it means to be a great butler, a question that preoccupies him throughout Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Days.

Stevens’ thematic emphasis on his occupation’s purpose, or telos, naturally lends itself to an Aristotelian approach to understanding the good that he wants to achieve. The dignity of the English landscape thus becomes a virtue that Stevens inhabits in pursuit of not only the smooth operations of Darlington Hall, but also more idealistically “to ensure that peace will continue to prevail in Europe.”

This article uses Aristotle’s theory of virtue ethics developed in the Nicomachean Ethics to critically review how Stevens puts dignity into action, and to argue that Stevens fails to find happiness at the end of the novel because he wrongly imagines that dignity requires a separation of his public and private selves.

Implicit in the form of The Remains of the Day, which alternates between Stevens’ memories of Darlington Hall and his retrospective musings about his occupation, is a tension between what Stevens says and what he does. The question for Stevens is how to embody the “calmness” of the English landscape. In this respect, Ishiguro portrays Stevens sympathetically, as someone who is bound to make mistakes in his life. After all, by rejecting the Hayes Society’s prerequisite that members “be attached to a distinguished household,” Stevens is single-handedly redefining the Aristotelian good of his career with dignity as its central virtue.

In Book II of the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle distinguishes between virtue of thought and virtue of character. For Aristotle, a virtue of thought “grows mostly from teaching” and thus is a function of time and wisdom rather than of action. Virtues of character on the other hand are built through practice and “correct habituation.” For Stevens, true dignity then is a virtue of character because dignified butlers “inhabit their professional role and inhabit it to the utmost.” Through his narrative about events where either he or his father perform virtuously in this way, Stevens seeks to convince the reader and potentially himself that his career has been a holistically virtuous one.

Aristotle addresses the ambiguity between virtuous characters and people who just perform virtuous actions in the Nicomachean Ethics. He provides three criteria for virtuous character: that the agent “knows [that he is doing virtuous actions],” that they “decide on them for themselves,” and third that they do virtuous actions “from a firm and unchanging state.” In other words, a genuinely virtuous character is aware that they behave virtuously and do so for the sake of being virtuous. This must be a disposition, as opposed to feelings or faculties that are subject to influence rather than the natural intuition of a person.

In other words, a genuinely virtuous character is aware that they behave virtuously and do so for the sake of being virtuous.

Regarding dignity as a virtue of being a butler, it would seem that Stevens qualifies as a virtuous character given his conscious appreciation for the importance and nuances of dignity. However, Ishiguro makes it unclear whether Stevens does dignified actions because he is virtuous by disposition or if he simply happened to behave a certain way by accident and only in retrospect is able to justify his actions.

The question of Stevens’ character then hinges on the issue of his sincerity. This is most pointedly brought to light by Miss Kenton who, frustrated by Steven’s emotional dishonesty in response to the firing of two Jewish employees, asks: “why do you always have to pretend?”

Undergirding her accusation is the possibility that Stevens’ sense of dignity is merely a cover created after-the-fact to excuse his actual, passive nature and weak moral character. This undermines Stevens’ belief that a great butler does not allow anyone to “tear [their professionalism] off him in the public gaze,” the separation between the public self and the private self when “he is entirely alone.” The very fact that Stevens’ conception of dignity requires this insincere divide between self and persona belies him as virtuous by disposition.

“Why, Mr. Stevens, why, why, why do you always have to pretend?”

Furthermore, it is questionable whether dignity as Stevens defines it can be considered virtuous, not because the end it is trying to achieve is wrong but because it emphasizes the absence of action rather than the power of action. His declaration about the greatness of the English landscape is a pertinent example of the mismatch between Stevens’ notions of dignity and his actual inexperience with the outside world. In fact, most of his knowledge comes from a set of guidebooks called “The Wonder of England,” which are imbued with mythical impressions of what is stereotypically “English.” These romanticized ideals of English masculinity teach Stevens to associate dignity with absence, with being present but unseen.

In reality, Stevens is a man of shadows. When he upsets Miss Kenton, rather than confronting her Stevens stands behind a door listening to her cry. Instead of being the objective observer that suits a butler, Stevens “minimizes [his] presence by standing in the shadows much further away” to eavesdrop on a conversation between Lord Darlington and Sir Richard Fox.

Stevens then, distanced physically and emotionally from action, is not a true Aristotelian agent. He allows and often facilitates the actions of others, satisfied with his cloistered existence in Darlington Hall. It is this passive nature that enables people to delude Lord Darlington and thus Stevens by taking advantage of their trust, and it is Stevens’ conception of dignity as absence that preserves this passivity.

At the end of the novel, Stevens realizes that the consequence of absence is not true dignity but loneliness and emptiness. He says morosely to a man, “I trusted I was doing something worthwhile. I can’t even say I made my own mistakes. Really — one has to ask oneself — what dignity is there in that?” What Stevens concludes here is that a dignified person embraces the responsibility of choice rather than eschews it.

It is meaningful that the events of The Remains of the Day, Stevens’ memories of the perverse activities in Darlington Hall, only arise when he physically moves away into the light of the real English countryside. His trip becomes an occasion not only for relaxation, but also of reflection and relief from the binds of professionalism. What he encounters there are moments of spontaneity. His car breaks down. He has to ask for help from strangers. Stevens meets people like Harry Smith who speak their mind, not to instruct Stevens but to engage him in dialogue. Even Mr. Farraday’s request at the novel’s beginning that Stevens banter with him is a call for spontaneity.

In contrast to Stevens’ view of dignity of absence, voluntary spontaneity involves being comfortable with expressing what is on one’s mind without a filter. In other words, it is the conscious connection between private and public selves. In spontaneous acts, the honest disposition of character is revealed rather than the mere performance of disposition or identity. It is this promise of sincere that provides Stevens “the key to human warmth” and a meaningful way to pursue dignity as involved, rather than absent.

What he encounters there are moments of spontaneity. His car breaks down. He has to ask for help from strangers.

An important corollary of this development is Stevens’ recognition of the importance of friendship as a virtue. As opposed to the politicians visiting Darlington Hall who wish to manipulate Stevens, the everyday people of the English countryside are eager to help him find food and shelter, and genuinely wish to learn about his background. In Darlington Hall, Stevens and Miss Kenton never express their feelings for each other and their relationship is filled with conflict. It is only after many years after Miss Kenton leaves that they can have a modestly uninhibited conversation in which she reveals her regrets about marrying Mr. Benn. Spontaneity even provides the possibility that Stevens will develop an amicable friendship with Mr. Farraday, a far cry from his deeply hierarchical relationship with Lord Darlington.

In Book IX of the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle calls these relationships “complete friendship[s]” between “good people similar in virtue.” Unlike friendships based on the exchange of utility or pleasure, people in complete friendships want goodness to each other “for each other’s own sake.” According to Aristotle, these friendships are long lasting while friendships of utility dissolve “as soon as the advantage is removed.” (123) Before the trip, Stevens’ relationships were conditional on professional pretenses, so he only talked with Miss Kenton and Lord Darlington because that was his job. However, because Stevens emphasized dignity as the primary virtue of his occupation and believed dignity needed an absence of the emotions and feelings that humanize him, these relationships did not survive the novel.

Much can be made of the parallel between this discussion of dignity and virtue ethics with the historical context of The Remains of The Day. Stevens’ stiff upper lip approach to the good can represent the complacent attitude of Great Britain towards Germany in the years leading to World War II. However, what seems centrally important to Ishiguro in both the domestic scenario in which the maids were fired and the international balance between nations is the decision to act virtuously. What paralyzes Stevens is not dignity per se, but the conception that dignity requires an absence or a refusal to act. It is spontaneity and sincerity that force Stevens to engage with his mistakes, and provide the tools for a great future.

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