Is Noblesse Oblige Still Relevant Today?
Thoughts on Money and Class Sparked by John O’Hara’s “Appointment in Samarra"
A society functions best when its social upper class has the characteristics of noblesse oblige. Giving away money is the least of it. What’s crucial is embracing the responsibility to be models of honorable behavior and to be ashamed when the behavior falls short.
That’s not America today.
Our role models are not those with virtue but those with money and fame. All Americans can be virtuous on their own terms, but gaining status through exceptional money and fame is out of reach for almost all of us. So, trying to imitate today’s upper class is a sad and hopeless quest. We tilt at a “luxury lifestyle” or try to gain fame through social media, sometimes at the expense of our own honor. We all swim in this water now, and the result is unhappiness.
I know some people who take their responsibility of noblesse oblige seriously. But a tenet of noblesse oblige is to be quiet about your virtuous acts. After all, Pride is one of the deadly sins. 1
Among our upper class, reticence is rare. Instead, there seems to be constant self-promotion. Outrageous and extravagant behavior dominates, especially on social media with its constant whirl of influencers, celebrities, and the loud rich flaunting their possessions and their bodies.
There’s a sense in our modern America that honor is an old fashioned relic. That nice guys do finish last. With American life expectancy going down and surveys of loneliness pointed skyward, I’m afraid and ashamed that the Hobbesian observation of life in a primitive society applies to more and more Americans:
“solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”
Noblesse Oblige vs. Money in “Appointment in Samarra”
How far America has drifted away from a sense of noblesse oblige struck me as I was rereading John O’Hara’s “Appointment in Samarra,” set in 1930 in a small town with a minutely precise social hierarchy. 2 The novel is part journalism, part fiction, and a faithful representation of the place where O’Hara grew up. 3
In the town of Gibbsville, your class is set by who your parents and ancestors are. Then, your behavior comes into play. Money is generally a correlation with where you rank, but money is not the determining factor.
My unorthodox take on the book is that it’s a tale of how the old order of status is being cast aside for the new.
One late night at the Gibbsville country club, Harry O’Reilly, the richest man in town is holding court, repeating tiresome stories to the cream of young Gibbsville society. These men despise Harry as a a nouveaux-riche, social-climbing, preening boor. But Harry is feared because of his money, made all the more potent by the Depression. They’re all in debt to Harry. So, they sit and listen in silent misery.
But there’s one man, Julian English, the novel’s young and glamorous protagonist, whose resentment at Harry builds and builds until he can no longer contain his anger. Julian flings his scotch and soda into Harry’s face.4 That one act is the Chekovian gun that sets off the subsequent events of the novel.
I see Julian’s assault against Harry as a rebellion against the idea that money can elevate a crude person to the highest rank. A reckless, brave protest. But foolhardy because it will sabotage Julian’s business and social interests. Julian’s rebellion backfires because no one wants to cross Harry.
The dominoes fall swiftly, Harry’s money wins, and Julian is doomed.
Some Wealthy People Today
It’s not a noble feeling to want to throw a drink in another person’s face, but I get it.
I’ve been around quite a few wealthy people whose faces I’d have loved to splash with a drink. People who are so transparently smug about the false virtue of their money. Who brag about cutting corners on their taxes. Who feel entitled to hold court because everyone kisses their ass, just like Harry O’Reilly. Who give little to no credit to circumstance for their financial success. Who are proudly ignorant about anything other than business and money. I remember one billionaire telling me, “I never read books; it’s a waste of my time.”
Noblesse Oblige of the Past
In the novel, Julian’s father, Dr. English, represents the virtuous social upper class. Dr. English’s own father embezzled money from a bank and then shot himself rather than face the consequences. To remove that ancestral stain, Dr. English worked tirelessly to pay back every dollar his father had stolen. By doing so, he re-established his honor and social position and that of his family, one that traces its lineage back to the Revolutionary War.
My great-grandfather Samuel Rottenberg 5 left behind a record of doing the right thing, preserved in precious stories. During World War Two, he took over the business of a friend who was trapped in Europe. After a long absence, the friend returned and received from Samuel his business back and all the accumulated profits. My father, then a teenager, complimented his grandfather on his honesty. Samuel looked askance at my father and said,
“and [instead] you thought I would do what?”
Can We Reclaim the Superiority of Virtue Over Money?
Have we lost forever the possibility of a social upper class that can serve as a role model of virtue. Chances look grim, but not hopeless.
Those of us who are in the position to do so, especially writers, need to call out bad behavior. We need to raise the bar of our expectations of virtue from our upper class.
So many to choose from, but I’ll single out Bill Clinton. He used his power as president to seduce the young intern Monica Lewinsky, lie about it and then destroy her life. A polite, or virtuous, society ought to have shunned Bill Clinton, at least until he made sincere amends to Monica Lewinsky and asked for her forgiveness, something he has never done.
Conversely, we should give positive reinforcement and praise to those who act with honor. Taylor Swift gave huge bonuses to all the working members of her tour. LeBron James has used his money and influence to do wonders for his home city of Cleveland.
To end on hope, I sense on Substack a vanguard of rebellion against our society’s obsession with money and fame as well as an earnest desire to think of individual success on more virtuous terms.
Below I share a trio of recent substack articles that underscore my hope. First, the comment question, which I hope you’ll answer.
Comments
What are some praiseworthy acts of virtue that have made a big impression on you?
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Notes
I know I struggle with Pride, more than any of the other seven “deadlies.” The other six are Greed, Wrath, Envy, Lust, Gluttony and Sloth. Okay, I’ll also admit to Gluttony when there are sweets in the house.
I note that there is terrible bigotry in the novel, consistent with the era it describes. Catholics are not as good as Protestants, and Jews are almost as untouchable as anyone who isn’t white. But that’s the way it was in 1930, so I can look past that and still consider it one of my all time favorite novels. And be glad to see the progress we’ve made.
Here are two illustrative journalistic details in the book from the mind of a mobster who may be my favorite character. In a boxing match you should always dent your protective cup before the fight begins in case you want to falsely claim an illegal blow, below the belt. When driving through a poor town and needing gas, you can find the house of that town’s doctor who, singularly, will always have a car out front with a full tank that can be siphoned.
An ice cube gives Harry O’Reilly a black eye.
My grandfather Alfred changed his name from Rottenberg to Roberts because of the anti-semitsm of the 1930s. My great-grandfather Samuel wasn’t pleased. He wrote, “Your name is your flag to carry forth in life.” The name change has made me want to self-identify as Jewish whenever I can.
Below, a film clip of perhaps the most famous literary scene of noblesse oblige: the self-sacrifice of Sydney Carton in “A Tale of Two Cities:”
Act of virtue: My parents, when I was but 2, realized they could not afford the home they owned so they put it up for sale. A local doctor came forward to buy it and made an offer my father accepted. However, it was 1950 and in selling to the doctor he was selling to a black woman. My father was a rabbi but only in his first few years with the congregation and there were powerful people that asked him not to accept the offer, to sell to another buyer -- any buyer -- who was white. He sold the house to the doctor and we moved to a more modest home. He put his position on the line, possibly turning down more money for the house, because she had made an offer and he had accepted.
From the standpoint of a person who lives in the UK I can identify with most of what you say. The elevation of the moneyed classes to the ranks of role model, aspirational figure, or influencer is both sad and vulgar. For your Bill Clinton example read our Boris Johnson, or in fact most of our current government, for Taylor Swift read Marcus Rashford or Sir Elton John. The issue with modest altruism or philanthropy is that no-one gets to see the honourable acting with honour and the notion slips from view. The quiet altruism of noblesse oblige is scorned as patronising or conscience salving which, to me, is a petty and resentful take.