Folk Game Theory

15. Real-world cluelessness 254Difficulty embodying low-status others 254Investing in status shortcuts 261Improving your bargaining position 263Empathy prevention 270Calling a person an animal 27116. Concluding remarks 274References 281iv

AbbreviationsThe following abbreviations are used for Jane Austen’s novels andthe script of Oklahoma! by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II.EMPNAOPPPSSEmmaMansfield ParkNorthanger AbbeyOklahoma!PersuasionPride and PrejudiceSense and Sensibilityv

PrefaceThe idea for this book started with a book that I bought for mychildren at a garage sale, Flossie and the Fox (McKissack 1986). For yearsI used the story of Flossie as an example in my graduate game theoryclasses but never found a place for it in my writing. The opportunitycame when I was asked to prepare a paper for a conference on “RationalChoice Theory and the Humanities.” I found more folktales whichteach strategic reasoning and began to notice “folk game theory” inmovies that I watched together with my children, including Oklahoma!and Jane Austen adaptations. Thus this book arose out of experienceswith my children Hanyu and Hana. Now as they are almost grownI hope that they will still want to read books and watch movies withtheir father.The “Rational Choice Theory and the Humanities” conference washeld at Stanford University in April 2005, and I am indebted to theorganizer, David Palumbo-Liu, and all of the other participants. I amalso grateful for being able to develop some of the material in lecturesin December 2005 at the National Taiwan University, in a talk at theJuan March Institute in April 2010, and in the Marschak Colloquium atUCLA in April 2010.Writing a book invariably exposes one to undeserved generosity.More than once, I have drafted what seems like a delightfully originalphrase only for me to discover it in an email received earlier froma friend. The term “folk game theory” has also been independentlycoined in lectures by Vince Crawford, and in the recent paper Crawford,Costa-Gomes, and Iriberri (2010). I recognize the difficulty of properlyacknowledging the contributions of my friends and colleagues. Specifically(in reverse alphabetical order), Guenter Treitel, Laura Rosenthal,vi

Dick Rosecrance, Anne Mellor, Peter Dougherty, Avinash Dixit, VinceCrawford, Tyler Cowen, Steve Brams, and Pippa Abston read the entirefirst draft and offered very helpful comments. Peyton Young, GiuliaSissa, Ignacio Sanchez-Cuenca, Rohit Parikh, Russ Mardon, and NealBeck gave me great suggestions. I am indebted.vii

1The argumentIf you understand another person’s motivations, you can anticipateher actions. For example, I hide cookies because I know myspouse likes them and will surely eat them all otherwise. This ability,called “strategic thinking,” is a routine everyday skill but can be developedto surprising virtuosity. People have analyzed strategic thinkinglong before it was taken up by the academic field of game theory in the1950s. I find sophisticated explorations of strategic thinking in AfricanAmerican folktales, the musical Oklahoma!, with book and lyrics writtenby Oscar Hammerstein II, and the six novels of Jane Austen. These diverseexplorations, understood as “folk game theory,” provide insightsnot yet superseded by modern social science.Why study folk game theory? I hope to show that game theory’shistorical basis is much wider than is usually understood by practitionersand critics. Game theory is usually considered part of a broad trendtoward mathematization and “scientization” in the social sciences afterWorld War II. The mathematical development of game theory has specifichistorical roots in the Cold War military-industrial complex in theUnited States, and it would not be completely unfair to understand itas coming out of the milieu of western capitalism and individualism oftencriticized for fetishizing choice and rationality over more “human,”“social,” or “holistic” approaches.The African American folktale tradition, Hammerstein, andAusten, and their own emphasis on choice, rationality, and strategypredate the full flowering of Western capitalism and take the perspectiveof outsiders: slaves for whom any measure of autonomy is hardwon, Jews uncertain about their treatment by the dominant society,1

and women very much dependent on fathers and husbands. They developtheory not to better chase a Soviet submarine but to survive. Thepowerful can of course use game theory, but it is not surprising thatit should develop most among the subordinate and oppressed, peoplefor whom making exactly the right strategic move in the right situationcan have enormous consequences: slaves who might gain freedom,women who might gain husbands. The dominant have less need forgame theory because from their point of view, everyone else is alreadydoing what they are supposed to do. Game theory is not a hegemonicdiscourse but one of the original “weapons of the weak.”By recovering a “people’s history of game theory” we enlarge itspotential future. Game theory’s mathematical models are sometimescriticized for assuming ahistorical, decontextualized actors, and indeedgame theory is typically applied to relatively “neutral” situations suchas auctions and elections. Folk game theory shows that game theorycan most interestingly arise in strongly gendered or racialized situationswith clear superiors and subordinates. By looking at slave folktalessuch as the story of Flossie and the Fox, we can understand howpretending to be naive can deter attackers. We can see from Austen’sheroine Fanny Price that social norms, far from protecting socialityagainst the corrosive forces of individualism, can be the first line of oppression.We can see from Hammerstein’s Ado Annie how convincingothers of your impulsiveness can open up new strategic opportunities.Folk game theory has wisdom which can be explored just as traditionalfolk medicines are now investigated by pharmaceutical companies.Many social science ideas, such as Marxist theory, psychoanalysis,feminist theory, and recently cognitive psychology, have been usedto help analyze literature, but adding game theory to the mix is notcommon, to say the least. I hope to show that more is gained than justnovelty. Why do Austen’s Jane Fairfax and Mr. John Knightley discussthe specific explanation for the reliability of postal service workers?Why does Hammerstein’s Laurie drink the elixir of Egypt? WhenAusten’s Emma Woodhouse paints a portrait of Harriet and Mr. Eltonadores it, why does Emma think that Mr. Elton is in love with thepainting’s subject, not its creator? When Rabbit strikes the tar baby2

and gets stuck, is he being rash or overstrategic? Why is Austen’sFanny Price grateful to not have to choose whether to wear Edmund’schain or Mary’s necklace, but then decides to wear both? A strategicsensibility can help generate and answer questions like these.I started this project by noticing game theory in some AfricanAmerican folktales, and once sensitized I noticed it in Oklahoma! andthen in Austen’s novels. These texts are iconic: Austen has threenovels in the BBC’s 2003 popular-vote-based ranking of the 50 mostlovednovels, Oklahoma! is often called an inaugural development inAmerican musical theater, and children all over know the Tar Babytale. I did not choose these texts in any systematic way and do nothave the extensive background necessary to claim that these texts areparticularly outstanding; doubtless there exist many other examplesof folk game theory, with a wide variety of ambitions. I simply hopeto show that folk game theory can be found in several quite differentworks with many common concerns shared.Most of this book is devoted to Austen, who in her six novels hasthe space to most fully elaborate her theory, with great ambition andrange. Strategic thinking can be explored in just a single folktale, withoutinvoking a large theoretical apparatus, but if one is interested intheoretical development, one must carefully consider each of its constituentconcepts (including choice, preferences, and strategy), drawcontrasts with other models of human action, and explore new applications.This has been the research agenda of rational choice theory andgame theory for the last sixty or so years, but Austen was underwaytwo hundred years ago.The texts I consider share not only an outsider’s perspective butalso a substantive concern, yet to be taken up by modern game theory:the absence of strategic thinking, what I call “cluelessness.” Althoughstrategic thinking is an essential human skill, often people do not applyit and even actively resist it. Clueless people tend to be members of thedominant race or sex who cannot think of subordinate others as havingtheir own independent motivations and making decisions on theirown. For example, when Emma says that “it is always incomprehensibleto a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A3

man always imagines a woman to be ready for anybody who asks her”(E, p. 64), she argues that men as a sex are strategically clueless: theydo not consider women as having their own motivations. Cluelesspeople tend to obsess over status distinctions, including gender andracial distinctions. In the “malitis” tale, a slaveowner, heavily investedin the caste difference between him and his slaves, has difficulty understandinghis slaves as strategic actors and is therefore easily tricked. InOklahoma!, Will Parker thinks that his newly earned cash proves thathe now has the status to marry Ado Annie, even though Ado Annie’sfather simply wants to get paid off.Cluelessness, the absence of strategic thinking, has particular characteristicsand is not just generic stupidity or foolishness. I considerseveral explanations for cluelessness. For example, Austen’s cluelesspeople focus on numbers, appearances and visual detail, decontextualizedliteral meaning, and social status. These personality traits turnout to be associated with autistic spectrum disorders; therefore, takingAusten’s lead, we can understand cluelessness through autism. Anotherof Austen’s explanations for cluelessness is that social superiorsare not supposed to enter into the minds of inferiors; not having tothink about what another person is thinking is a mark of social superiorityover that person. Thus a superior might remain clueless about aninferior to sustain the status difference even though this prevents himfrom realizing how the inferior is manipulating him.Real-world examples of cluelessness I discuss include United Statesmilitary actions in Vietnam and Iraq. I apply Austen’s explanations andalso consider a few more. For example, entering another’s mind caninvolve imagining oneself in that person’s body, walking in his shoesand seeing through his eyes, and because of racial or status differences,a person who regards himself superior finds this physical embodimentrepulsive.This book starts by first discussing strategic thinking as a combinationof several skills, including being able to place yourself in the mindof others, being able to infer others’ motivations, and being able to devisecreative manipulations. I then discuss how to model strategic situationswith game theory, using examples from Austen, Shakespeare, and4

Richard Wright, and also try to clarify common misconceptions aboutgame-theoretic models. No previous familiarity with game theory isassumed. Then I turn to African American folktales and suggest thattheir intellectual legacy informed the tactical expertise of civil rightsorganizers in the 1960s. The tale of Flossie and the Fox advances aspecific technique by which the weak can outwit the powerful, but Ialso analyze it using game theory’s mathematical techniques. I thendiscuss strategic thinking in Oklahoma!, in which the central problemof collective action is explicitly stated in a song and dance number longbefore anyone in social science thought of it.My treatment of Austen starts with chapter 7, which summarizeseach novel’s plot in terms of how each heroine learns strategic thinking.No previous familiarity with Austen is assumed. Next, taking thesix novels as a whole, I argue in chapters 8 through 14 that Austen’sexploration of strategic thinking is systematic and theoretical, with explicitstatements that long predate the foundational ideas of rationalchoice theory and game theory taught in textbooks today. I start bylooking at Austen’s treatment of the foundational concepts of gametheory, choice and preferences, and her explicit names for strategicthinking, such as “penetration.” Next, Austen considers how strategicthinking interacts with other models of human action, includingemotions, instincts, habits, rules, social factors, ideology, intoxication,and constraints. Austen also carefully distinguishes strategic thinkingfrom other concepts often confused with it; strategic thinking is notnecessarily selfish, economistic, or moralistic, and is not confined toexplicitly defined games like backgammon or whist.For Austen, strategizing together in a partnership is the surest foundationfor intimate relationships, and sometimes you have to strategicallymanipulate yourself. Austen also self-critically discusses the disadvantagesof strategic thinking. It is difficult to avoid the conclusionthat exploring strategic thinking, theoretically and not just “practically,”is her explicit intention. Austen is not just an advocate but atheoretician of strategic thinking, in her own words, an “imaginist.”5

Finally, I consider cluelessness and various explanations of it,building off of Austen and considering real-world examples. I concludeby considering how this book relates to existing work.6

2Strategic thinkingStrategic thinking involves several related skills, which I illustratewith an example from Austen’s Mansfield Park. Five-year-old Betseyand her fourteen-year-old sister Susan are fighting because Betsey hastaken possession of Susan’s knife, a present from their departed sisterMary. Their older sister Fanny decides to buy a new knife to offer toBetsey so that she will voluntarily give up Susan’s knife. Betsey takesthe new knife and household peace is restored.What skills does Fanny use in this manipulation? For Fanny toanticipate that Betsey will take the new knife, she has to think abouthow Betsey will choose when it is offered. Fanny must realize thatthe person doing the choosing is Betsey, not herself. Understandingthat another person’s mind is different from yours requires a “theoryof mind,” a skill which most people acquire in early childhood. Forexample, in the “false belief” test, a child is shown two dolls, Sallyand Anne. Sally puts a marble in her basket, and then leaves. WhileSally is gone, Anne takes the marble and hides it in her box. Sallyreturns and the experimenter asks the child where Sally will look forthe marble. Children of ages four and up typically point to the basket,while younger children point to the box (Wimmer and Perner 1983,Baron-Cohen, Leslie, and Frith 1985, Bloom and German 2000). Veryyoung children are not yet skilled in knowing how another person canbelieve something different from what they know is true.Theory of mind depends on environment as well as age. For example,it helps to be exposed to minds which are different from yourown; among three- to five-year-olds, children who have nontwin siblingsand especially children with at least one opposite-sex sibling aregenerally better at false belief tests than only children and twins with no7

other siblings (Cassidy, Fineberg, Brown, and Perkins 2005). Theory ofmind can be understood as culturally specific; for example, in Europeand the United States in the 20th century people more often explainaction by mental states (as opposed to for example spirits, gods, or lifeforces), while Samoan children do not offer “I did not mean to” as anexcuse for bad behavior (Lillard 1998). One might speculate (as doChrissochoidis and Huck 2010) that believers in a single all-powerfulgod might be worse at understanding others’ mental states than peoplewho must track several interacting gods. Theory of mind is evidentlyconfined to humans. For example, chimpanzees do not appear to havea theory of mind; a monkey will make a gesture begging for food to ahuman experimenter even if the experimenter is wearing an obviousblindfold (Povinelli and Vonk 2003).People on the autistic spectrum are more likely to incorrectly answerquestions involving theory of mind and are less likely to explainexample social scenarios in terms of people’s mental states (Happé1994). Some argue that a weakness in mind-reading is an essentialaspect of autism (Baron-Cohen 1997). On the other hand, there is evidencethat children on the autistic spectrum do fine when false-belieftests are presented in visual terms. In one experiment, children areasked to draw a red apple with a green pen, and are then asked whatcolor apple did they intend to draw, as well as what color apple woulda person who just walked in think that they drew. Children on theautistic spectrum report that they themselves intended to draw a redapple but that another person who sees only the drawing would thinkthat they drew a green apple (Peterson 2002; see also Gernsbacher andFrymiare 2005). Temple Grandin, who specializes in animal behavior,states that her theory of mind operates visually (Grandin 2008). Keenattention to visual detail is one common characteristic of people on theautistic spectrum, and Grandin finds that this helps her understandhow animals perceive their surroundings (Grandin and Johnson 2004).A related characteristic of people on the autistic spectrum is a strongorientation toward literality, “relaying factual information or phrasesmemorized from TV shows without responding to what their listener8

is saying or doing. . . . [T]hey may hear the saying ‘Don’t let the cat outof the bag’ and search for a cat and bag” (Baker 2001, p. xi).Once Fanny understands that Betsey is making her own choice,Fanny must think about how Betsey will make that choice. Fannymust consider what Betsey wants, in other words Betsey’s preferences.Fanny correctly guesses that although Betsey prefers Susan’s knife tonothing at all, Betsey prefers the new knife to Susan’s knife. Just asone must learn that other people’s minds are different from your own,one must learn that other people’s preferences can be different fromyour own. This also seems fairly obvious, but mistakes are common,for example when you like a book so much that you buy it for a friendwithout taking a moment to consider whether she will actually like it.Understanding another person’s preferences can be surprisingly difficult;for example, if you strongly dislike cigarette smoking or gamblingor deer hunting or watching soap operas yourself, you might havedifficulty thinking that a friend enjoys these activities.One technique to better understand another person’s preferencesand choices is “perspective taking,” in which you consciously try toplace yourself in the mind of another. Physical or visual analogies areoften used, as in “put yourself in her place” or “see it from his pointof view.” To help its younger designers better understand the preferencesof older car buyers, the Nissan Motor Company has developedan “aging suit” which includes cloudy goggles, a weighted belt, andconstraining elastic bands; by wearing it, one thereby adopts an olderperson’s diminished vision, heavy midsection, and limited flexibility(Neil 2008). Taking another’s perspective helps one empathize, butperspective taking and empathy are not quite the same. Empathy is associatedmore with sharing feelings; for example, you can put yourselfin the mind of your military adversary to understand his objectives andpredict his choices without feeling sorrow about his military losses.Strategic thinking also requires that you take into account how othersthink strategically. In Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, Mrs. Dashwood,thinking that her daughter Marianne has cleverly arranged to be aloneat home to receive her suitor Willoughby, therefore allows Marianneto not come along with the family’s social visit to Lady Middleton. If9

Mrs. Dashwood had thought Marianne strategically unsophisticated,she may have insisted that Marianne come along, since Marianne couldnot have any substantial reason for staying home. In general, you mighttake an action thinking that another person will take an action becausea third person will take an action to prevent a fourth person fromtaking an action, and so forth. Thus strategic thinking involves bothestimating the strategicness of others and also the more computationalprocess (as in playing chess) of sorting through sequences of actions.When Renfroe (2009, p. 157) prepares for an argument with her husband,“I think of what it is that I need to say to him and three possibleresponses. Then I think of three things I could say to each of thoseresponses. Within minutes I am already twenty-seven moves into theconversation, and he doesn’t even have a clue we need to talk yet.”Being able to understand the mind of another does not mean thatyou actually do it. In one experiment, a test subject, called the “participant,”is asked to put a roll of tape into a paper bag while anotherperson, the “director,” is behind a large cardboard wall and obviouslycannot see what the participant is doing. The wall is then removed andthe paper bag is placed, along with other objects including a cassettetape, between the director and participant. The director then asks theparticipant to “move the tape.” Since the participant has a theory ofmind, she should understand that the director does not know that thereis a roll of tape in the paper bag and thus must mean the cassette tape.But the majority of subjects reach for or grab the bag before correctingthemselves and almost all look at the bag (for an average of 1.38 seconds).So even though the participant knows that the director couldnot possibly mean the roll of tape in the bag, the participant still cannothelp but look at it and even move toward it. The interpretation is thattheory of mind is like an espresso machine you are given as a present,which you leave “in the box” until you actually need it (Keysar, Lin,and Barr 2003).A person’s strategic thinking might thus depend not just on herability and training but in what situations she “takes it out of the box”;for me a cocktail party might hardly be the place for goal-directed10

strategic reasoning, while for you it might be ideal. I might be terribleat strategic thinking in open-ended situations like cocktail partieswhich have no explicit “rules,” but be very good at it in explicitly definedsituations like chess, while you might be the opposite. In oneexperiment, people on the autistic spectrum are just as good as a controlgroup, even slightly better, at responding correctly to “move thetape” requests as described above, but when asked to retell a story,use fewer terms referring to characters’ mental states (Beeger, Malle,Nieuwland, and Keysar 2010). Perhaps people on the autistic spectrumdo not take their theory of mind skills “out of the box” when recountinga story but employ them easily when concrete action is necessary. Inanother experiment, Chinese students are much better than non-AsianUS students at responding correctly to “move the tape” requests; theinterpretation is not that Chinese students are more able, but that theyare more accustomed to using their theory of mind, as members of aculture that emphasizes interdependence (Wu and Keysar 2007).Another skill involved in strategic thinking is inferring the motivationsof others, by observing their actions and statements, as wellas their facial expressions and body language. In a competitive sport,for example, an opponent’s motivations are explicitly stipulated by therules of the sport (although even here she might have a different objective,like prolonging the game because she enjoys your company).But often others’ preferences are not so obvious; to manipulate Betsey,Fanny has to figure out that she would prefer a new one over Susan’sknife. Even when you know a person well it is not always easy to figureout their preferences; for example, when your mother says on thetelephone that she will not be disappointed if you do not come homefor the holidays, it can take substantial effort, listening to her tone ofvoice and interpreting her side remarks, to figure out, and even thenimperfectly, how she really feels. In Korean, this skill is called nunchi.A person with good nunchi can understand another’s desires whenthey are not expressed explicitly, can size up a social situation quickly,and can use this skill to get ahead; for example, by using her nunchi tounderstand how she can help the boss’s wife, a woman might help herhusband get promoted (Shim, Kim, and Martin 2008, p. 94).11

The literal meaning of nunchi is “eye-reading” and indeed muchresearch on understanding the minds of others is about how people seeeach others’ eyes. In one experiment, men are worse than women atidentifying people’s mental states (for example if a person is happy, sad,angry, or afraid) from pictures of their eyes, and people on the autisticspectrum are worse than non-autistics; autism has been interpreted asan extreme form of the male brain (Baron-Cohen, Jolliffe, Mortimore,and Robertson 1997, Baron-Cohen 2002). By looking at someone’s eyes,you can see what they are seeing: when I talk to you and we have eyecontact, I know that you are looking at me and paying attention; also,you know that I know that you are paying attention since you seeme observing you, and so forth (Chwe 2001). Compared to 80 otherprimate species, humans are the only species which have unpigmentedwhite as opposed to pigmented brown sclera (whites of the eyes), andhumans also have the largest exposed sclera area; the interpretationis that these adaptations enabled humans to better see each other’sgaze direction (Kobayashi and Kohshima 2001). Great apes follow ahuman’s gaze more by looking at the direction of his head than hiseyes (for example, they follow a human’s head direction even whenthe human’s eyes are closed) while one-year-old human infants followeyes much more (Tomasello, Hare, Lehmann, and Call 2007).Perhaps the most advanced skill involved in strategic thinking iscoming up with manipulations and plans, creating situations in whichpeople act in such a way as to produce the desired outcome. Fanny’sidea of buying a new knife for Betsey is not especially creative, but stillnot everyone would have thought of it. Some strategic manipulationsare delightfully clever. For example, Rabbi Harvey, carrying his friend’sprecious candlestick, is held up by a thief. Rabbi Harvey asks the thiefto shoot bullet holes in his jacket and hat so that he can prove to hisfriend that he was robbed; by asking the thief repeatedly, Rabbi Harveydepletes all of the thief’s ammunition (Sheinkin 2008). Coming up witheffective plans involves creativity and ingenuity and is not so easy toteach. The best way seems to be the case study method, discussingthose manipulations which are particularly unexpected and brilliant.We soon consider examples.12

3Game theoryGame theory takes situations like Fanny’s manipulation of Betseyand represents them in diagrams called games. Here I demonstratethis with three examples: Fanny’s manipulation of Betsey, Beatriceand Benedick in William Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, andRichard and Harrison in Richard Wright’s autobiographical Black Boy.We start by looking at how an individual person makes a decision, inother words rational choice theory, and then look at how a person’sdecision depends on the decisions of others, in other words game theory.With these examples I try to anticipate common objections togame-theoretic models.When Fanny buys a new knife, Betsey chooses to either keep Susan’sknife or give it up. This is Betsey’s choice and we can represent itas follows.KeepSusanʼs knifeGoodBetseyGive upSusanʼs knifeBestHere Betsey’s two choices are represented by two lines or “branches”coming from a dot or “node.” This node has Betsey’s name on it becauseBetsey is choosing. One branch is labeled “Keep Susan’s knife” and theother is “Give up Susan’s knife.” Betsey likes Susan’s knife but likes thenew knife best. If she chooses the branch of keeping Susan’s knife, theoutcome is good, and we write “Good.” But if she chooses the branch13

of giving it up, that’s her best outcome and we write “Best.” This “tree”is a very simple way to represent Betsey’s decision once Fanny offersher the new knife.If Fanny does not offer Betsey the new knife, we are in the statusquo. Betsey still chooses whether to keep or give up Susan’s knife, buther preferences are different. Keeping Susan’s knife is still good, butnow giving it up means having no knife at all, which is the worst thingfor Betsey. So in this situation, we have a slightly different tree.KeepSusanʼs knifeGoodBetseyGive upSusanʼs knifeWorstIn the previous situation, giving up Susan’s knife is the best becauseBetsey gets a new knife; but here giving up Susan’s knife is the worstthing for Betsey.Now we have two trees, the first representing the situation in whichFanny buys a new knife, and the second representing the situation inwhich Fanny does not buy a new knife. These trees are simple rationalchoice models, and almost all of rational choice theory boils down tomaking trees like these. If we now consider Fanny’s decision, we havemore than one person and we are in the world of game theory. To addFanny to the model, we simply note that Fanny chooses between thesetwo trees. Hence we can build these two small trees into a larger tree,as follows.14

KeepSusanʼs knifeGood, WorstBetseyBuynew knifeGive upSusanʼs knifeBest, GoodFannyDo not buynew knifeBetseyKeepSusanʼs knifeGood, BadGive upSusanʼs knifeWorst, BestHere Fanny makes the first decision, and her node is the one at the left.She can either choose to buy a new knife or not buy a new knife. IfFanny buys a new knife, then we have the first tree we derived beforewhich represents Betsey’s situation if offered a new knife. If Fanny doesnot buy a new knife, then we have the second tree we derived before.For clarity, Betsey’s actions and branches are in bold, and Fanny’s arein regular type.The only thing remaining is to include Fanny’s preferences. Thestatus quo in which Betsey keeps Susan’s knife is bad, but the worstthing for Fanny is if Betsey keeps Susan’s knife even after Fanny buys anew one, since Fanny’s purchase would be for nought. If Betsey givesup Susan’s knife once offered the new knife, that is a good outcome.Fanny’s best possible outcome is if Betsey gives up Susan’s knife withoutFanny having to buy anything. Again, we use boldface to indicateBetsey’s preferences and regular type for Fanny’s, and we have the treebelow.15

KeepSusanʼs knifeWorst,Good, WorstBetseyBuynew knifeGive upSusanʼs knifeGood,Best, GoodFannyDo not buynew knifeBetseyKeepSusanʼs knifeBad,Good, BadGive upSusanʼs knifeBest,Worst, BestThis “game tree,” an example of an “extensive form game,” capturessome but not all aspects of the strategic thinking behind Fanny’smanipulation. It captures the fact that once Fanny decides whetherto buy a new knife or not, it is Betsey’s decision whether to keep Susan’sknife or give it up. It shows how Betsey’s preferences dependon Fanny’s action. It shows how Fanny, before making her decision,must think about how Betsey will choose in response. But it does notcapture everything. One thing left out is how Fanny somehow figuresout Betsey’s preferences, in other words, how Fanny knows that thisand not some other game tree is the correct one. Another is how Fannycreatively came up with the idea for the manipulation in the first place,how Fanny realizes that buying a new knife might do the trick.Here Fanny decides first and then Betsey decides in response, butthere are many situations in which people decide essentially simultaneously.For example, Beatrice and Benedick greet each other with insultsand disdain, but Beatrice’s family (her uncle Leonato, her cousin Hero,and Hero’s attendant Ursula), and Benedick’s friends (Don Pedro and16

Claudio) manipulate them into believing that each has a secret love forthe other, and thus each falls for the other, making the fabrication true.They need outside help because of their pride; Beatrice explains to DonPedro that she insults Benedick “[s]o I would not he should do me, mylord, lest I should prove the mother of fools” (Shakespeare 1600 [2004],p. 231). When they realize that they have been manipulated, their lovemomentarily falters but is saved by the evidence of love poems eachhad secretly written, stolen from their pockets by Hero and Claudio.Beatrice and Benedick each must choose whether to love or not,and neither can see the other’s choice before making their own (incomparison, Betsey chooses knowing whether Fanny bought a newknife). There are four possible outcomes: both loving, Beatrice onlyloving, Benedick only loving, and neither loving. We can write theseoutcomes in a table. For clarity, we write Benedick’s action in bold.Beatrice lovesBeatrice doesn’tBenedick loves“Benedick, love on;I will requite thee.”“Stand I condemned forpride and scorn so much?”Benedick doesn’t“I should prove themother of fools.”“No, Uncle, I’ll none.”Each of the four outcomes is represented by a quote from Beatriceexpressing her opinion of that outcome (Shakespeare 1600 [2004],pp. 237, 231, 237, 229). If neither loves (the lower right entry in thetable), Beatrice tells her uncle Leonato that she is content marrying noman: “No, Uncle, I’ll none. Adam’s sons are my brethren, and truly Ihold it a sin to match in my kindred” (Shakespeare 1600 [2004], p. 229).If Beatrice loves and Benedick does not (the upper right entry), thenBeatrice feels painfully foolish and embarrassed. If Benedick loves andBeatrice doesn’t (the lower left entry), Beatrice is happy but feels badfor being so scornful. If both love (the upper left entry), then Beatricejoyfully returns her love.We can abbreviate the feelings behind Beatrice’s quotes above inthe following way.17

Benedick lovesBenedick doesn’tBeatrice loves Best WorstBeatrice doesn’t OK BadThe best thing for Beatrice is if they both love and the worst thingis to love without being loved. Being loved but not returning it is OK,not the best but second-best, and neither loving is bad but better thanbeing a fool. Note that if Benedick does not love (the right column),then Beatrice does not want to love either. If Benedick does love (theleft column), then Beatrice wants to love.Benedick’s feelings are similar. The best thing for him too is if bothlove, the worst is if he loves without being loved back, and neitherloving is bad. So his feelings look like the following (again, we useboldface to distinguish his table from Beatrice’s).Benedick lovesBenedick doesn’tBeatrice loves Best OKBeatrice doesn’t Worst BadThe difference between Beatrice’s and Benedict’s tables is that for Beatrice,the worst thing is if her love is unrequited (the upper right outcome)and for Benedict, the worst thing is if his love is unrequited (thelower left outcome).For compact exposition, we can merge these two tables togetherand get the following. Here in each of the four outcomes, we first writeBeatrice’s feelings and then Benedick’s.Benedick lovesBenedick doesn’tBeatrice loves Best, Best Worst, OKBeatrice doesn’t OK, Worst Bad, BadAgain, the two agree on what is best (mutual love) and what issecond-worst (mutual indifference). What is worst for Beatrice (lovingBenedick foolishly) is second-best for Benedick, and what is worstfor Benedick is second-best for Beatrice.18

This table, an example of a “strategic form game,” distills theBeatrice-Benedick situation to its essential elements. It might seemslightly complicated at first, but it cannot be made any simpler. Lovedoes not come upon them like a fever or euphoria but because eachconsciously chooses to love. Each knows that choosing to love risksfoolishness. Each is painfully aware that all four outcomes are possible,and that by trying for the best, one risks the worst. One cannotsimply say that each desires the other; it is essential to the situation thateach person wants to love only if the other does also. One also cannotsimply say that Beatrice and Benedick “find love” with the help of theirfriends and thus collectively move from bad to best; they are both independentindividuals who make independent choices, and their lovealmost unravels once they are informed of their friends’ manipulation.Richard Wright (1945 [1993], p. 235–237), was at his job washingeyeglasses when Mr. Olin, his white foreman, approached to tell himthat Harrison, a worker at a rival optical house, had a grudge againsthim. “ ‘Well, you better watch that nigger Harrison,’ Mr. Olin saidin a low, confidential tone. ‘A little while ago I went down to get aCoca-Cola and Harrison was waiting for you at the door with a knife.. . . Said he was going to get you.’ . . . ‘I’ve got to see that boy and talkto him,’ I said, thinking out loud. ‘No, you’d better not,’ Mr. Olin said.‘You’d better let some of us white boys talk to him.’ ”Richard seeks out Harrison anyhow. “ ‘Say, Harrison, what’s thisall about?’ I asked, standing cautiously four feet from him. . . . ‘I haven’tdone anything to you,’ I said. ‘And I ain’t got nothing against you,’he mumbled, still watchful. . . . ‘But Mr. Olin said that you came overto the factory this morning, looking for me with a knife.’ ‘Aw, naw,’he said, more at ease now. ‘I ain’t been in your factory all day.’ . . .‘But why would Mr. Olin tell me things like that?’ I asked. Harrisondropped his head; he laid his sandwich aside. ‘I . . . I . . .’ he stammeredand pulled from his pocket a long gleaming knife; it was already open.‘I was just waiting to see what you was going to do to me . . .’ I leanedweakly against a wall, feeling sick, my eyes upon the sharp steel bladeof the knife. ‘You were going to cut me?’ I asked. ‘If you had cut me, Iwas going to cut you first,’ he said.”19

Harrison is not a fool for carrying the knife; as he says, if you thinkthat the other will bring a knife, you would want to bring one also. Inthis situation, Richard and Harrison can each choose either to bring aknife or not, and we can make a table as before. Here Richard’s feelingsare in regular type and Harrison’s are in boldface.Harrison doesn’tHarrison brings knifeRichard doesn’t Best, Best Worst, OKRichard brings knife OK, Worst Bad, BadFor both Richard and Harrison, the best outcome is if neither bringsa knife and life goes on normally. If you bring a knife and the otherdoes not, that’s OK but not the best, because you are embarrassed forrevealing your distrust. If both bring a knife, that is bad for both, butthe worst thing is if you don’t bring a knife and the other does. So ifthe other doesn’t bring a knife, you don’t want to either, because noone has any hard feelings. But if the other brings a knife, you wouldbe stupid not to bring one also.Richard and Harrison vow to keep faith in each other and ignoretheir white bosses’ provocations. But when each is offered five dollarsto fight the other in a boxing match, Harrison convinces a reluctantRichard, saying that it’s just exercise and they can fool the whitemen into thinking they are really hurting each other. However, “[w]esquared off and at once I knew that I had not thought sufficiently aboutwhat I had bargained for. . . . The white men were smoking and yellingobscenities at us. ‘Crush that nigger’s nuts, nigger!’ . . . [B]efore I knewit, I had landed a hard right on Harrison’s mouth and blood came.Harrison shot a blow to my nose. The fight was on, was on against ourwill. I felt trapped and ashamed. I lashed out even harder, and theharder I fought the harder Harrison fought. Our plans and promisesnow meant nothing. . . . The hate we felt for the men whom we hadtried to cheat went into the blows we threw at each other. . . . [E]ach ofus was afraid to stop and ask for time for fear of receiving a blow thatwould knock us out. When we were on the point of collapsing from20

exhaustion, they pulled us apart. I could not look at Harrison. I hatedhim and I hated myself” (Wright 1945 [1993], pp. 242–243).How were their actions “against their will”? They both had agreedto pretend, but once the other started to fight in earnest, even accidentally,each must fight in return, making things bad for both.The Beatrice-Benedick situation and the Richard-Harrison situationseem quite different. One is delightful and the other is sobering.One is an unexpected triumph and the other is a degrading defeat. Oneis about love and the other is about hate. But when we use the tablesabove to distill each situation, we find that the situations are actuallyquite similar, even identical. The table which describes the Beatrice-Benedick situation and the table which describes the Richard-Harrisonsituation are identical, different only in the names of the characters andthe names of their actions. In both situations, the two people involvedhave a “good but risky” action (loving, not bringing a knife) and a “badbut safe” action (not loving, bringing a knife). The best for both peopleis if both take the good but risky action, but taking that action aloneyields the worst possible outcome. Taking the good but risky actionrequires an assurance that the other will do the same.We might have discovered this similarity without all this apparatus.But the tables sure make things easier. Once we have pedanticallywritten down the tables, finding the similarity is a matter of inspection.Once we see the similarity, it becomes clear how both mutual loveand mutual hatred can be created out of nothing, and in what senseexactly this creation is against their own wills. It becomes clear howone person’s action can be provoked by nothing more than her ownexpectation of the other person’s action, and that once provoked, eachperson’s action can in turn respond to the other’s action, resulting inan unexpectedly good or bad outcome, a virtuous or vicious cycle. Thethird-party manipulators (Hero, Leonato, Ursula, Don John, and Claudio,and Mr. Otis and the other white foremen) have opposite goals butthe same method: influencing the expectations of each person aboutthe other in a way that becomes self-confirming.Setting up trees and tables for various social situations and analyzingthem is what game theory does. As in any abstraction, something is21

lost, but what is gained is the possibility of finding connections and similaritiesamong seemingly disparate things. Whether this gain is worththe loss is a matter of judgment, best decided in very specific contexts.For example, the connection between Beatrice-Benedick and Richard-Harrison is I think at least slightly unexpected. Similarly connected aregoing to a political demonstration (I want to go only if enough others goalso), adopting new technology (if enough of my friends text message,I want to start), and going to see a movie (the more popular it is, themore I want to see it, just to see what everyone is talking about); theseare all examples of what game theory calls a “coordination game” (seefor example Chwe 2001).Game theory is pretty light in what it “imposes”: if you describepeople making independent choices in a situation, you pretty muchhave to specify at a minimum who the people are, what their possiblechoices are, and how they feel about the possible outcomes. In thissense, a game is a kind of notation, like musical notation, intended tospecify only minimal aspects like note pitch and duration, not phrasingor various kinds of expressiveness. Game theory is most appropriatein situations in which people make conscious choices. For example,game theory would be more helpful in understanding the spread of aninfectious disease communicated by sexual activity than by sneezing,since presumably sneezing is not a conscious choice (although whetherto stay home from work is).It is sometimes thought that game theory assumes that peopleare cold and unemotional, privileging the “brain” over the “heart,”“thinking” over “feeling.” But both the Beatrice-Benedick and Richard-Harrison situations are steeped in emotions of fear, joy, anticipation,disappointment, shame, and disgust, and we took at least some ofthese emotions into account when we made the tables. People oftenmake the most careful and consciously important choices not in boringplacidity but in emotional uproar, such as whether to take a feverishwailing child to the emergency room. A person might love in a tearfulparoxysm, ignoring all possible risks, but Beatrice and Benedick donot, and this does not make their conscious decision to love any lessemotional. Emotions can be important in ways not captured in our22

tables, but it cannot be said that our tables, or the assumption thatpeople make conscious choices, exclude emotion outright.In the Beatrice-Benedick and Richard-Harrison situations, wewrote down which outcomes were worst, best, second-worst, andsecond-best by considering each person’s “feelings” about each outcome.The standard terminology in game theory is “preferences”over each outcome or “utility” or “payoff” from each outcome. Usingthe term “feelings” instead was not unnatural, thus suggesting thatwhether we think in terms of feelings, preferences, motivations, orpayoffs does not matter much. Similarly, instead of the terms “Best,”“Worst,” “OK,” and “Bad,” it is customary to use numbers, such as 10(Best), -10 (Worst), 5 (OK), and 0 (Bad), where a higher number indicatesa higher preference. If we use these numbers, the Beatrice-Benedickgame looks like this.Benedick lovesBenedick doesn’tBeatrice loves 10, 10 -10, 5Beatrice doesn’t 5, -10 0, 0Even though using numerical payoffs to represent a person’s preferencesis basically equivalent to using ordinal terms like “Best” and“Worst,” numbers have associations which bother some people. Onecan easily imagine dollar signs next to Beatrice’s and Benedict’s payoffs,and thus it seems that by assuming numerical payoffs, we assumethat people care only about cash and we are thus in an “economistic”or “market-oriented” world. Indeed, a common criticism is that gametheoretic approaches assume self-interested, atomistic individuals unaffectedby social mores or norms, without social or historical context,like consumers in a market are often assumed to be. Again, this criticismis best handled in the particulars of a given example or application.In the Beatrice-Benedick and Richard-Harrison situations, peoplelive in a thick social milieu, complete with social expectations aboutcourtship and how black people can talk to whites, for example, andwithin dense networks of affection and distrust. Richard and Harrison23

try to create their own norm by vowing to trust each other, but it fallsapart. It would be odd to say that carrying a knife, avoiding the risk ofheartache, or punching back in desperation is atomistic, selfish, narrow,or self-interested as opposed to holistic, altruistic or public-spirited. Itis hard to say that our tables impose any “market” or “individualistic”logic; the tables do little more than notate for example the fact thatBeatrice and Benedick both gain by loving, but the worst thing is beinga fool and loving alone. By offering the new knife to Betsey, all Fannywants is to restore peace in the household; is this individualistic?The core model of game theory is “payoff maximization,” alsocalled “utility maximization”: a person has numerical payoffs for eachalternative and chooses the one with the highest payoff (equivalently,each person has a ranking from best to worst and chooses the one whichis ranked highest). There is indeed an assumption being smuggled inwhen we assume utility maximization, but it has little to do with money,the market, neoliberalism, and so forth. For example, say Violet decideshow many children to give birth to and raise in her life. Realistically,her possible choices are 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5 children. She decides that shewould be most content without children, that is, choosing 0. Upon amedical examination, however, she is informed by her doctor that shecan have at most one child, and so her set of alternatives is now 0 and1. Knowing that she can have at most one child, she decides that sheshould have one child and chooses 1. Violet’s choice is understandable,but it violates the assumption that she chooses the alternative withthe highest payoff (assuming that there are no “ties” and her payoffsthemselves do not change when she sees the doctor). Choosing 1 fromthe two alternatives 0 and 1 means that 1 has a higher payoff than0, which means that 0 could not have had the highest payoff in theoriginal situation.For another example, say that Walter spends his money only oncoffee, beer, and cigarettes, and his income doubles. It is possible thathe consumes more of all three items, it is possible that he consumes lessof some items and more of others, and it is possible for his consumptionof all items to remain unchanged. But it is not possible for his consumptionof all items to decrease, if we assume utility maximization. His24

consumption of all items shouldn’t decrease after his income doublesbecause he could have done the same thing before his income doubled,and he didn’t. If his consumption of all items decreases, utilitymaximization is violated.One might think that a crucial issue for game theory is what theterm “rationality” means, but it is not. The term “rational” is oftenassociated with instrumental, calculated, calm, deliberate, knowledgeable,individualistic action and is often contrasted with impetuousness,emotionality, ignorance, ideological bias, sentimentality, and socialmindedness.Game theory at its core, however, is about none of thesethings. The standard response of game theory is that a person makes a“rational choice” if it can be described by utility maximization; for exampleif Walter consumes less of all items when his income doubles, heis not making a rational choice. Utility maximization does not translatedirectly into any intuitive or colloquial conception of “rationality”; analtruistic person is no more or less likely to violate utility maximizationthan a selfish person, for example. Game theory also does not careabout what the alternatives actually are; all that matters is that a personchooses among them in a way consistent with the model. A personwith $100 might choose between getting a fancy haircut, donating themoney anonymously to the Salvation Army, giving the money to hisitinerant brother, or buying a handgun and shooting himself. A selfishperson, a generous person, a socially embedded person, and a suicidalperson could all be described by utility maximization.Utility maximization is a purposefully crude way to think abouthow people make choices, especially compared to psychological studiesof decision-making, for example. If Walter consumes less of everythingafter his income doubles, utility maximization is violated, regardlessof whether Walter makes this decision in a calm, thoughtful, instrumental,individualistic, or calculating manner, or whether he makesthis decision out of habit, intuition, superstition, rules of thumb, in afit of anger, or because of social pressures. Violet’s decision about howmany children to have can be made with a mixture of prudence andimpulsiveness, and might involve a messy mixture of calculated financialconstraints, incommensurable lifestyle changes, emotions such as25

guilt and joy, celebration of her newly valued fertility, concerns for herrelatives and potential children, and her own identity as a woman andmother. For the outside observer, explaining a person’s fertility choicesis not necessarily easy, and for that matter Violet herself could spendyears retrospectively trying to understand this single decision.Game theory does not get too involved with more complicated orrealistic models of choice because it focuses on how each person’s choiceinteracts with the choices of others. For example, when Fanny considerswhether to buy a new knife for Betsey, she need not think much aboutwhether Betsey is jealous of the deceased Mary’s love for Susan andtherefore covets the knife which Mary gave to Susan, whether a newknife would balance things out because it would be a token of love fromanother sister, Fanny herself, whether Betsey likes the knife because itsymbolizes power and autonomy, or whether Betsey simply likes shinymetal objects. For the sake of the manipulation, Fanny needs only acrude model: Betsey prefers a new knife over Susan’s knife over noknife. For us to understand why Fanny buys a new knife, similarly wedo not have to dig deep into Fanny’s soul; we just have to understandthat Fanny is willing to pay for a new knife if Betsey gives up Susan’sknife. Other situations might require more sophisticated models ofhow people make choices, but even with a crude model, a strategicsituation, in which each person’s choice depends on the choices of allthe others, can be complicated enough.26

4Folktales and civil rightsHere I consider a handful of African American folktales which aretutorials in strategic thinking (I rely on Levine 1977) . Characters whodo not recognize the strategic nature of others are mocked and punishedby events, while revered figures, like Brer Rabbit, skillfully anticipateothers’ future actions. Of course African American folktales and theirinterpretations constitute an enormous literature, and there is also alarge literature on the trickster figures which appear in many worldfolk traditions (for example Hynes and Doty 1993, Landay 1998, Pelton1980). The African American strategic folktale tradition continues tothe present day; I suggest that it informed the tactics of the civil rightsmovement.I start with the tale of a new slave asking his master why he doesnothing while the slave has to work all the time (Jones 1888 [1969],p. 115, discussed in Levine 1977, p. 130). The master replies that he isworking in his head, making plans and studying upon things. Whenthe master later finds the slave resting in the field, he asks the slave whyhe is lazy. The slave replies that he now is working with his head, andwhen the master asks what kind of work his head is doing, the slaveasks, “Mossa, ef you see tree pigeon duh set on dat tree limb, an youshoot an kill one er dem, how many gwine leff?” The master answers,“Any fool kin tell dat. Ob scource two gwinne leff.” The slave replies,“No, Mossa, you miss. Ef you shoot an kill one er dem pigeon, deedder two boun fuh fly way, an none gwine leff.” The master laughedand did not do anything to the slave in the future when he neglectedhis work—“De Buckra man bleege fuh laugh, an eh yent do nuttne terde New Nigger case eh glec eh wuk.”27

If the pigeons were pine cones or other inanimate objects, then themaster would have been right. The master’s error is that he does notrecognize that the pigeons are strategic actors, able to make decisionsand act independently, just as humans would if shot at. The masterdoes not recognize that the situation is a strategic one; he sees thesituation as simply a collection of objects in front of the only relevantdecision-maker, himself.The slave’s ability to think through this strategic situation is valorized,worthy indeed of the term “work,” and is rewarded, with themaster’s laugh and more importantly his forbearance of the slave’s continuingrelaxation. Here the slave has anticipated strategically again.Once the master justifies his inexertion by saying that he is working inhis head, the slave realizes that if he himself makes a similar justificationconvincingly, the master would be compelled to accept it to somedegree. He thus tells this riddle anticipating the master’s reaction andthereby gains materially. Here again, the master makes the same error;when he makes the initial excuse of head work, it does not even occurto him that the slave might use it in turn, because he does not recognizethe slave as a strategic actor or even that slaves are biologically capableof head work.In this brief tale there are two games: one involving the pigeonsand the shooter, and one involving the slave and the master. In bothgames, the master makes the same mistake of not recognizing thatothers act strategically. The slave takes advantage of this and at thesame time demonstrates his own strategic understanding by telling theriddle.Masters do not think of slaves and pigeons as strategic; in thissense they are clueless, and this tale suggests why. If you consideryourself naturally superior, a completely different kind of being, placingyourself in the mind of the inferior even for a moment is revoltingor unthinkable, and in fact you might consider your not having to do soa privilege of your dominance. If you can’t think of people as strategic,you completely misrecognize strategic situations involving them, andthey can use this misrecognition to their advantage.28

The following features are common in the folktales I examine here.Stupid people (or animals) fail to recognize that others are strategicand fail to anticipate the actions of others. Smart people choose theiractions anticipating the actions of others, get materially rewarded, andin fact take advantage of the cluelessness of stupid people. The specifictechniques of the smart, but more importantly their aptitude in strategicthinking, are worth remembering and emulating.In another tale (Jones 1969 [1888], p. 102, discussed in Levine 1977,p. 109), Rabbit sees the fisherman carrying fish in his wagon, and comesup with a plan to get some. Rabbit lies by the road pretending to bedeathly ill, and when the fisherman stops to ask him what ails him,Rabbit says that he can’t travel any farther and begs the fisherman fora ride. The fisherman agrees and places Rabbit in the wagon, whereRabbit lays down as if dead. As the fisherman proceeds down the road,Rabbit quietly throws fish one at a time into the bushes by the side ofthe road. When the fisherman turns off the main road, Rabbit jumps offand goes back and collects all the fish. On the way back home, Rabbitmeets Fox, who asks him how he got all the fish. Rabbit tells Fox abouthis plan, and the next day Fox tries the same trick. When he sees Foxby the side of the road, the fisherman, who of course had figured outwhat had happened the day before, knocks Fox on the head with hiswhip and beats him dead. He then takes Fox’s body to his wife to showher the thief; the fisherman thinks Fox and Rabbit are the same animal.The tale ends by saying that Rabbit knew this would happen: “BuhRabbit, him no care so he sabe isself. Him bin know say Buh Fox gwineketch de debble wen de Ole Man come pon topper um.”The real trickery here is not the fish-stealing, but Rabbit’s framingof Fox, which does not involve any deception. Rabbit knows that whenhe tells Fox the plan, Fox will try it also and the fisherman will retaliatetoward Fox instead. Fox’s error is that he does not anticipate that thefisherman will obviously learn from the first swindle. Like the masterwho forgets that pigeons make their own choices once shot at, Foxforgets that the fisherman is a person who makes independent choicesonce tricked. Fox is so caught up in the specific trickery of fish-stealingthat he does not recognize the larger strategic setting. Rabbit takes29

advantage of Fox’s cluelessness and thus gains his own innocence.Levine (1977, p. 109) interprets this tale as showing how, “unable tooutwit Rabbit, his adversaries attempt to learn from him, but here toothey fail.” But actually Fox learns the fish-stealing technique all toowell; Rabbit counts on him to do it exactly the same way he did. Foxdies not because of a failure to learn but because of a failure to see thelarger strategic picture.The “malitis” tale is a true story from the Slave Narrative Collectionof the Federal Writers’ Project (Botkin 1945, p. 4–5, discussed in Levine1977, p. 126–127). One master, so stingy that his slaves almost starved,had seven hogs ready for slaughter. The day before they were to bekilled, a slave boy ran and told the master that all the hogs were sick andhad died. “When the master goes to where-at the hogs is laying, they’sa lot of Negroes standing round looking sorrow-eyed at the wastedmeat. The master asks: ‘What’s the illness with ’em’? ‘Malitis,’ theytells him, and they acts like they don’t want to touch the hogs. Mastersays to dress them anyway for they ain’t no more meat on the place.He says to keep all the meat for the slave families, but that’s becausehe’s afraid to eat it hisself account of the hogs’ got malitis.” What’s themysterious and fatal disease of malitis? A slave had gone to the hogpen very early that morning with a mallet, and “when he tapped MisterHog ’tween the eyes with that mallet, ‘malitis’ set in mighty quick.”“Malitis” solved the problem of how the slaves could keep themeat and eat it openly (a simple theft would have required furtive consumption)by enlisting the master as a decision-maker, by motivatingthe master to choose to transfer the meat himself. Had he had thoughtof the slaves as strategic, the master would have at least considered thepossibility that the slaves were lying, but he did not. For the master,the “caste” distinction between healthy and diseased, between whiteand Negro, was overwhelming.The tale of Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby is one of the most wellknownfolktales today, and appears widely in children’s books and infor example the title of a novel by Toni Morrison (1981). The versiontold in Jones (1969 [1888], p. 7–11) goes like this. Too lazy to find hisown water, Rabbit steals from Wolf’s spring. When Wolf tells Rabbit30

that he has seen his tracks near his spring, Rabbit says they must havebeen from another rabbit. Doubtful, Wolf builds a tar baby and placesit in the middle of the path to the spring. The next morning, Rabbitdecides to go get some water from Wolf’s spring to cool his burningcooking pot. He sees the tar baby and is astonished; he examines thetar baby closely and waits for it to move. The tar baby does not winkan eye, say anything, or move. Rabbit asks the tar baby to please moveso he can get some water, but the tar baby doesn’t answer. Rabbit asksagain. Rabbit finally says, “Enty you know me pot duh bun? Enty youknow me hurry? Enty you yeddy me tell you fuh move? You see dishan? Ef you dont go long and lemme git some water, me guine slapyou ober.” The tar baby still does not respond, and Rabbit slaps him onthe head. Rabbit tries to pull his hand back and yells at the tar baby tolet him go or else he will box him with his other hand. Rabbit’s otherhand gets stuck also. Rabbit continues to make threats and since the tarbaby never responds, Rabbit gets his knees and then his face stuck, andcannot pull loose. Wolf shows up, declares that he has proved Rabbit’stheft, and ties Rabbit to a bush and whips him with a switch. Rabbithollers and begs, and finally asks Wolf to kill him instead by burninghim up or knocking his brains out. Wolf says that that kind of deathwould be too short, and so he will throw Rabbit into the briar patch, sothe briars can scratch his life out. Rabbit says, “Do Buh Wolf, bun me:broke me neck, but dont trow me in de brier patch. Lemme dead onetime. Dont tarrify me no mo.” So Wolf throws Rabbit into the briarpatch. Rabbit runs away saying, “Good bye, Budder! Dis de place memammy fotch me up—dis de place me mammy fotch me up.”The tale ends in standard fashion, with Rabbit anticipating Wolf’saction of throwing him in the briar patch and Wolf not consideringwhether Rabbit might be strategically lying. But Rabbit is not infallible,as shown by his altercation with the tar baby. The tar baby is strangeand intriguing, to Rabbit as well as to us listeners. The tar baby issomewhere between solid and liquid, somewhere between object andliving being. If Wolf had simply set out a bucket of tar which Rabbitstepped in, or if Wolf had simply cornered Rabbit, most of the flavor ofthe tale would be lost. Rabbit’s mistake is essential to the tale.31

What exactly is Rabbit’s mistake? Levine (1977, p. 115) says thatthe tale “underline[s] the dangers of acting rashly and striking outblindly.” Smith (1997, p. 128) says that the tale “emphasizes that Br’erRabbit can be duped by illusion but that he ultimately saves himself byremembering his ‘home,’ or cultural roots.” Rabbit is indeed duped,but the tar baby is not an illusion: it is not intended to fool Rabbit’svisual perception, as smoke, mirrors, or holograms might. Rabbit seesit just fine, is in fact astonished by its strangeness, and even examinesit closely before addressing it. Rabbit is not at all rash; he takes timeexamining the tar baby, and waits for the tar baby to move before askinghim. Rabbit does not strike out blindly; he first asks the tar baby tomove, a quite normal social request, and even asks twice. Rabbit seesthe tar baby as a strange creature, but does not prejudge it and becomesangry only when the tar baby violates common courtesy.Rabbit’s mistake is that he thinks that the tar baby is a strategicactor. If Master, Fox, and Wolf do not see that slaves, pigeons, andrabbits are strategic actors, Rabbit’s mistake is exactly the opposite:Rabbit thinks that everything is a strategic actor. Rabbit does not movethe tar baby aside nor does he simply walk around it, the obviouscourses of action if he thought that the tar baby were an object. Rabbitgets mad when the tar baby does not acknowledge his request to moveaside. Rabbit does not attack the tar baby unconditionally but ratherissues threats to the tar baby which he thinks a strategic actor wouldrespond to. Rabbit even ascribes mental states and reasoning ability tothe tar baby, saying that the tar baby should realize that Rabbit’s pot isburning and that therefore Rabbit is in a hurry.If these folktales teach the importance of strategic thinking, of recognizingthat others are strategic actors, the tar baby tale cautions thatone can overdo it; one can mistake objects for actors as well as mistakeactors for objects. Hamilton (1985, p. 19) finds over three hundredversions of the tar baby tale, from Africa to India to the Bahamas toBrazil. One tar baby is strategic: in some areas of Georgia, the tar babyis a living monster who insults people and then traps them when theystrike out at him in response.32

Richard Wright’s parable of his fight with Harrison continues in thestrategic folktale tradition. More recently, James Ellis Thomas (2000)of Dothan, Alabama, writes “The Saturday Morning Car Wash Club.”Lorenzo agrees to help his friend Chester wash his car, a rusting brown1978 AMC Pacer named Apollonia. However, Chester means to washApollonia not in his front yard but at the public car wash, so as toimpress the girls who hang out there on Saturday mornings. The twosixteen-year-olds lurch into the car wash and step out, only to meet asmirking Leon and his three friends, who are three years older. Leonand his friends say there are no spots at the car wash for Chester’s“piece of doo-doo.” As the crowd gathers, expecting a fight, Lorenzovolunteers that Chester will race Leon for a spot. Back in the car,Chester, sobbing because his auntie gave him the car, cannot believethat Lorenzo challenged Leon on his behalf, and just wants to go home.Lorenzo asks Chester to lean his ear over so he can tell him what to do.Lined up toward the open road, the two cars gun their engines. Thereis a countdown and Leon speeds off on count “two.” Chester doesn’tmove, and after Leon roars away, backs slowly into the now vacant carwash bay. “The hare had hauled tail and now the tortoise was takingup shack in the rabbit’s hole. It was a Saturday morning cartoon.”The crowd laughs and Le Ly, a girl Chester is sweet on, complimentsChester on his mirrored sunglasses.As before, putatively weaker people triumph and gain real benefitsthrough strategic thinking, by anticipating the actions of seeminglymore powerful people obsessed with their own status. Lorenzo, whoknows he is using “the oldest trick in the book,” is better at strategicthinking than Chester, who is more concerned with appearances: howhis hair looks and impressing the ladies. Chester is not good at understandinghow others think; for example, he thinks his car is impressiveand does not realize that everyone else considers it a rustmobile.Lorenzo credits his insight to childhood Saturday morning cartoonsand, going a bit farther back, folktales with tortoises and hares.Strategic thinking is not just for high school; it also helps whenthe stakes are historic. Compared to its well-known cultural and spirituallegacy, the strategic acumen of the 1960s civil rights movement33

is insufficiently appreciated (see also Hubbard 1968, McAdam 1983).In January 1963, Wyatt Tee Walker presented to Southern ChristianLeadership Council (SCLC) activists a detailed tactical plan to desegregateBirmingham, Alabama. He called it “Project C,” for confrontation(Branch 1988, p. 690, Williams 1987, p. 182). Walker’s plan was stronglyinfluenced by the movement’s frustrations in its 1962 Albany, Georgia,campaign, its first attempt to mobilize an entire community to protestand go to jail. In Albany, according to Charles Sherrod (1985), “Sometimewe don’t know who controls this, who controls the other. So westomp around and stomp and see whose feet we get. . . . We didn’t knowwhat we were doing.” Walker (1985) says that “we learned that validand crucial lesson that you must pinpoint your target so that you donot dilute the strength of your attack.” Also, the Albany chief of policewas Laurie Pritchett (1985), who researched King’s tactics beforehandand directed the Albany police to use “no violence, no dogs, no showof force.” Sherrod and Walker dispute Pritchett’s claim that he wasnon-violent; as Sherrod (1985) observes, “How could a man be nonviolentwho observed people being beaten with billy clubs.” Walker(1985) instead uses the term “non-brutal. . . . The foil for our non-violentcampaigns in the South had been the uh, anticipated response of segregationistlaw enforcement officers such as Jim Clark, in Selma, and BullConnor in Birmingham, Alabama. Laurie Pritchett was of a differentstripe. . . . I think the apt description is slick. He did have enoughintelligence uh, to read Dr. King’s book, and he culled from that a wayto avoid uh, confrontation.”Thus Project C focused on a single city block between 16th Streetand 17th Street (Vann 1985, quoted in Williams 1987, p. 191). Walker(1985) reminisces that Birmingham’s public safety commissioner “Bull”Connor “served our purposes well. . . . [W]ithout the prototypical figureof a white racist law enforcement officer. . . the Birmingham Movementwould not have accelerated and built up the momentum as fast. I oftenwonder why Bull Connor didn’t have somebody smart enough aroundhim to say, ‘Let the niggers go on to City Hall and pray.’ . . . He neverhad enough intelligence, or anybody around enough intelligence tolet us do what we wanted to do. Instead he was fixed on stopping34

us, and that became the flash point of the dogs and the hoses and ofthe national and international attention in the 1964 Civil Rights Bills.”Laurie Pritchett traveled to Birmingham to advise Connor, but they“never did agree on anything” (Pritchett 1985). Connor was a lameduck, having been recently voted out of office, and Walker knew that thewindow of opportunity was closing: Vann (1985) remembers Walkerexplaining that “they tried to talk us out of starting the demonstrations,and give the new government a chance. But we realized that this wasour last chance, to demonstrate against Bull Connor. . . . [S]ooner or laterhe would do something that would help our cause.” The movement’sstrategy of recruiting child demonstrators was due to James Bevel (1985,quoted in Williams 1987, p. 189), who explains that “a boy from highschool, he get the same effect in terms of being in jail in terms ofputting the pressure on the city as his father and yet he is not, there isno economic threat on the family because the father is still on the job.”Even the police decision to use water hoses on the children was notso much a performative “show of force” as driven by necessity; withthousands of children already imprisoned for demonstrating (Bailey1985) there was no room for any more and thus the police had to“break up the demonstrations before they got started” (Walker 1985).Vann (1985) explains that “the ball game was all over, once the hosesand dogs were brought forward.”On May 11, 1963, a bomb exploded at the Gaston Motel, whereMartin Luther King was staying. Another bomb exploded at the parsonageof Rev. A. D. King, Martin Luther King’s brother. Pritchett hadrecommended that Connor guard the Gaston Motel with police butConnor had refused. Wyatt Tee Walker’s wife and children were alsostaying there, and after the explosion, a state trooper at the scene “hither with a carbine, split her head open, sent her to the hospital.” AfterWalker arrived and was told which trooper hit his wife, Walker startedtoward him but “this white reporter from Mississippi, Bob Gordon,tackled me and threw me to the floor and held me until I, you know,it occurred to me that . . . this guy would take this automatic rifle andshoot me as quickly as he had brained my wife. . . . [I]t would have doneirreparable harm to the non-violent movement. Because here was Dr.35

King’s top lieutenant, chief of staff, attacking a . . . a police officer. . . . Iwas committed to non-violence as a way of life, but for me there was noprohibition against me protecting my home and family. And with anattack, a physical attack on my wife, I guess in my mind, this guy wasfair game and it didn’t even occur to me, uh, you know, that he had anautomatic weapon, you know. It’s just one of those human responses.. . . I’m very grateful that this white UPI reporter from Mississippi,stopped me” (Walker 1985). Walker, a central movement strategist, isnot infallible. But pinned to the ground, he can think it through and isgrateful.36

5Flossie and the FoxThe Flossie and the Fox story was told to Patricia C. McKissack(1986) by her grandfather. Flossie, a little girl, is asked by her motherto deliver a basket of eggs to Miz Viola’s place. Her mother warnsher to watch out for the fox, who loves eggs. Flossie says that shedoesn’t know what a fox looks like; she doesn’t remember ever seeingone. “Oh well, a fox be just a fox. That aine so scary.” Flossie skipsalong and encounters a strange creature, who announces that he is afox. Flossie looks him over carefully. “ ‘Nope,’ she said at last. ‘I justpurely don’t believe it.’ ‘You don’t believe what?’ Fox asked, lookingaway from the basket of eggs for the first time. ‘I don’t believe you afox, that’s what.’ ” Fox says that of course he is a fox: “A little girl likeyou should be simply terrified of me. Whatever do they teach childrenthese days?” But Flossie replies, “I aine never seen a fox before. So,why should I be scared of you and I don’t even-now know you a realfox for a fact?” Flossie goes on her way.Fox, quite disconcerted, runs after Flossie and invites her to feel histhick fur. Flossie replies that he must be a rabbit. Fox then explains thathe has a long pointed nose. Flossie replies that he must be a rat. After awhile, they meet a cat, and Fox asks the cat to please explain to Flossiethat he is indeed a fox. The cat says that he is a fox because he has sharpclaws and yellow eyes, but Flossie concludes that therefore he must bea cat too. Desperately, Fox says that he has a bushy tail. Flossie repliesthat he must be a squirrel. Fox begs Flossie to believe him, but it istoo late because one of Mr. McCutchin’s hounds appears to apprehendFox. As he dashes away, Fox shouts that the hound knows who heis: “Like I told you, I am a fox!” Flossie replies, “I know,” and walksunharassed to Miz Viola’s.37

There are several messages one can take from this story. One mightsay that Fox’s terrifying power is based not on physical attributes butsocialization, what they teach children these days. One might say thatthe powerful construct a world with specific roles, and the weak canbeat the powerful by refusing to participate in these roles. Power requiresacknowledgement, and disappears without it. One might saythat Flossie succeeds by manipulating the situation, by steadfastly andcleverly refusing the fox and scared girl scenario in favor of the unknowncreature and skeptical girl scenario; the real fight is not over theeggs but over how the situation is defined. One might say that wheneversomeone approaches you claiming to be powerful, you shouldplace the burden of proof on them. One might say that childish innocencecan triumph over adult pretension. Perhaps Flossie simplyknows how to buy time.Anyhow, this story says something profound about the nature ofpower and resistance. But like the other tales, this story also teaches anappreciation of strategic thinking. The key idea here is that if Fox knowsthat Flossie can tell that he is a fox, then Flossie is at a disadvantage.Flossie gains not by being ignorant (after all, she reveals at the end thatshe knows he is a fox) but by making Fox think she is ignorant.We can model this as a game in which Fox chooses whether toattack or not, and Flossie chooses whether to defend herself or not.If Fox does not attack, then nothing happens and the status quo ismaintained. If Fox does attack and Flossie does not defend, then Foxgets the eggs without a fight; Flossie loses the eggs but at least there isno physical altercation. If Fox attacks and Flossie defends, then bothFlossie and Fox risk injury. We represent Fox’s and Flossie’s preferencesover these outcomes by numerical payoffs. Hence the game might looklike this, where Flossie’s payoffs and actions are in normal type andFox’s are in bold.Fox attacksFox does notFlossie defends -12, -12 0, 0Flossie does not -8, 8 0, 038

Here the status quo in which Fox does not attack yields “status quo”payoffs of 0 to both. If Fox attacks and Flossie does nothing, thenFlossie loses the eggs (a payoff of -8) and Fox gets the eggs (a payoff of8). If Fox attacks and Flossie defends, however, then both risk injuryand both get a payoff of -12. The best thing for Fox is to steal the eggswithout encountering any defense. The best thing for Flossie is to beleft alone; losing the eggs is bad but being bitten or scratched is worse.In this game, note that for Flossie, not defending is always at leastas good as defending, regardless of what Fox does (-8 is greater than-12, and 0 is at least as great as 0). Thus we would expect Flossie to notdefend the eggs. Given that Flossie does not defend, Fox gets a payoffof 8 if he attacks and a payoff of 0 if he does not. Thus we would expectFox to attack. Flossie could defend the eggs, but it is not worth thedanger (-8 is bad but better than -12).This game shows why Flossie might not want to defend if attacked:fighting is costly for both. But it does not capture the story, in which Foxis not sure whether Flossie knows that he is indeed a fox. Why shouldFox care about whether Flossie knows he is a fox (except for his ownvanity)? The reason is that if Flossie thought that he were a squirrel,for example, then Flossie would probably act differently. What woulda game between Flossie and a squirrel look like? We write the gamebelow.Squirrel attacksSquirrel does notFlossie defends 0, -12 0, 0Flossie does not -8, 8 0, 0The only difference from the earlier game is that now Flossie does notincur any costs at all for defending if the squirrel attacks, since squirrelsare small and beaten easily. Flossie’s payoff if she defends and thesquirrel attacks is now 0 (before it was -12). In this game, for Flossie,defending is always at least as good as not defending, regardless ofwhat Fox does. Thus we would expect Flossie to defend the eggs.Given that Flossie defends, the squirrel gets a payoff of -12 if he attacksand 0 if he doesn’t. Thus we expect the squirrel to not attack.39

Of course, this game does not describe the situation in the storyeither. The situation in the story is a “blend” of these two games inwhich Flossie’s and Fox’s knowledge about each other, and knowledgeof each other’s knowledge of each other, is crucial. Since Flossie doesnot necessarily know if she is dealing with a fox or a squirrel, we say thatshe is dealing with a “creature.” There are three relevant possibilities,or states of the world, which they must take into account: the creatureis a fox and Flossie can tell, the creature is a fox and Flossie cannot tell,or the creature is in fact a squirrel. Flossie cannot distinguish betweenthese last two states: if Flossie cannot tell, the creature could be a fox ora squirrel. The creature cannot distinguish between the first two states:the creature does not know if Flossie can tell or not. Of course, thecreature does know whether he is a fox or a squirrel; he can distinguishbetween the third state and the other two.To properly “blend” the two games into one (a “game with incompleteinformation”), we must specify the probability of each state of theworld. Say that whether the creature is a fox or a squirrel is equallylikely. Say that conditional on the creature being a fox, whether Flossiecan tell or not is equally likely. So the probability of the first state ofthe world, that the creature is a fox and Flossie can tell, is 1/4. Theprobability of the second state of the world, that the creature is a foxand Flossie cannot tell, is 1/4. The probability of the third state of theworld, that the creature is a squirrel, is 1/2.In the blended game, Flossie chooses whether to defend or not ineach of the three possible states of the world. But since Flossie cannotdistinguish between the last two states of the world, she must take thesame action in these two states. So Flossie has four possible strategies:(defend, defend, defend), (defend, not, not), (not, defend, defend), and(not, not, not). Here (defend, not, not) for example means that Flossiedefends in the first state but does not defend in the second and third(in other words, Flossie defends if she knows that the creature is a foxand does nothing otherwise). Note that (not, not, defend) for exampleis not a possible strategy because Flossie must take the same action inthe second and in the third states.40

Similarly, the creature chooses whether to attack or do nothing ineach of the three possible states of the world. The creature’s possiblestrategies are (attack, attack, attack), (attack, attack, not), (not, not, attack),and (not, not, not). Since the creature cannot distinguish betweenthe first two states, he cannot play for example (attack, not, attack).Flossie has four strategies and the creature has four strategies. Wenoticed already that if Flossie knows that she is facing a fox, she will notdefend, since defending is never better than not defending. So we canimmediately eliminate Flossie’s strategies (defend, defend, defend) and(defend, not, not), the strategies in which she defends knowing that sheis facing a fox. Thus Flossie has two strategies: (not, defend, defend),in other words defend if it might be a squirrel, and (not, not, not), neverdefend.We thus have the following table, which has two rows (Flossie’sstrategies) and four columns (the creature’s strategies). Again, Flossie’spayoffs and actions are in normal type and the creature’s are in bold.(attack, (attack, (not, (not,attack, attack, not, not,attack) not) attack) not)(not, defend, defend) -5, -7 -5, -1 0, -6 0, 0(not, not, not) -8, 8 -4, 4 -4, 4 0, 0Note that if Flossie never defends and the creature always attacks,then Flossie always loses the eggs and gets -8, and the creature alwaysgets the eggs and gets 8. If the creature never attacks, then both get0 regardless of what Flossie does. In general, the payoffs here arecalculated using the probabilities of each state of the world and thepayoffs in the two original games. For example, say Flossie plays (not,defend, defend) and the creature plays (attack, attack, not). In the firststate of the world, Flossie does not defend and the creature (a fox)attacks, and Flossie gets payoff -8 and the creature gets payoff 8. Inthe second state of the world, Flossie defends and the creature (a fox)attacks, and Flossie gets payoff -12 and the creature gets payoff -1241

also. In the third state of the world, Flossie defends and the creature (asquirrel) does not attack, and both Flossie and the creature get payoff 0.Flossie’s overall expected payoff is her payoff from each state multipliedby the probability of each state, summed up over all states. In otherwords, since she gets -8 with probability 1/4, -12 with probability 1/4,and 0 with probability 1/2, her overall expected payoff is (1/4)(-8) +(1/4)(-12) + (1/2)(0) = -5. The creature’s payoff is similarly (1/4)(8) +(1/4)(-12) + (1/2)(0) = -1. Hence the entry in the table when Flossieplays (not, defend, defend) and the creature plays (attack, attack, not)is -5, -1.What will Flossie and the creature do in this game? The standardway to proceed (Nash’s (1950) equilibrium) is by a process of elimination.Say for example that Flossie plays (not, not, not) and the creatureplays (attack, attack, attack); in other words, Flossie never defends andthe creature always attacks. This does not make much sense as a prediction,because if the creature always attacks, Flossie’s payoff is -8 and shecan do better by playing something different: she can get -5 by playing(not, defend, defend) instead. Given the prediction, Flossie does notwant to play in a way consistent with the prediction. So the predictionof Flossie playing (not, not, not) and the creature playing (attack, attack,attack) does not make sense under this logic and is eliminated. To takeanother example, say that Flossie plays (not, defend, defend) and thatthe creature plays (attack, attack, not). Then the creature gets a payoffof -1 but could get a higher payoff of 0 by playing (not, not, not), neverattacking. So this prediction also is eliminated.In a similar manner, one goes through the eight possible predictedoutcomes and eliminates those in which at least one person could dobetter by not following the prediction. The one prediction which survivesthis process is the prediction that Flossie plays (not, defend, defend)and the creature plays (not, not, not); in other words, Flossiedefends if she thinks the creature might be a squirrel, and the creaturenever attacks.So in this blended game, we predict that the creature never attacks,even when Flossie knows he is a fox. In other words, when consideringwhether to attack, Fox must think about what Flossie might do. If42

Flossie cannot tell the difference between a fox and a squirrel, thenFlossie will defend, thinking that she is quite possibly defending againsta squirrel. Since Fox does not know whether Flossie can tell or not, hemust consider the possibility of Flossie defending. This possibility isenough to deter Fox from attacking. This is true even when Flossie cantell that Fox is indeed a fox. This is how Flossie nullifies Fox’s powerby denying it recognition.As is often noted, one problem with making threats (for example,nuclear escalation) is that they can be very costly to carry out andhence not credible. Thus the person making such a threat might wantto give the impression that he is crazy enough to carry it out. This“madman theory” of deterrence (Schelling 1960 [1980]) was consciouslyemployed by Richard Nixon when bombing Vietnam (Kimball 1998).The story of Flossie and the Fox is similar (in that Flossie deliberatelymakes Fox think that she just might do something which is costly forherself) but more sophisticated. Flossie also introduces uncertainty inher opponent’s mind. However, Flossie does not introduce uncertaintyabout her own sanity, but about whether she can recognize whether heropponent is powerful or weak. Flossie’s uncertainty is more plausibleand creative; anyone can pretend to be crazy.43

6Oklahoma!Oklahoma!, which opened in New York in 1943, with music byRichard Rodgers and book and lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II, is oftenseen as establishing the genre of American musical theater, in itsclose integration of music, dance, and script. But Oklahoma! is also asustained exploration into strategic thinking, taking up themes also inour folktales and Austen’s novels. In Oklahoma! the best strategists arewomen such as Ado Annie and Aunt Eller, and among men, the Persianpeddler Ali Hakim, an economic as well as ethnic outsider (every othermale is a cowboy or works on a farm). Ali Hakim, like Brer Rabbitand Austen’s Emma Woodhouse, illustrates the perils of oversophistication.Ado Annie, the “girl who can’t say no,” like Flossie Finleyand Austen’s Catherine Morland, demonstrates the strategic advantagesof projecting naivety. Will Parker, like Flossie’s Fox and Austen’sSir Walter Elliot, and for that matter like Bull Connor and the slaveownerin the “malitis” tale, illustrates how overattention to social statusand literal meaning is associated with strategic imbecility. Laurey, likeAusten’s Fanny Price, illustrates how learning strategic thinking is partof becoming an adult woman. Laurey’s Aunt Eller continually bestsmen strategically, illustrating the feebleness of authority based on title,status, and presumption. Finally, Curly and Laurey’s marriage, like avictorious marriage in Austen, illustrates how strategic partnership isa foundation for intimacy.The character with the weakest strategic skills in Oklahoma! is thecowboy Will Parker, whose ineptness allows the script to explicitly tutorthe audience in strategic thinking. Will is not a complete simpleton,but a skilled cowboy who returns having won a steer roping contestin Kansas City. Will’s specific deficit is strategic thinking: he has a44

particular obsession with the symbolism and meaning of an actionover its strategic or “practical” aspects. Will displays this male patternaffliction, to which Jud Fry and Curly later succumb, immediately uponhis entrance. Having won fifty dollars in the steer roping contest, Willintends to hold Ado Annie’s father, Carnes, to his promise, accordingto Will, that he could marry Ado Annie once he was “ever worth fiftydollars” (O, p. 5). Finding Ado Annie, he says that “yer Paw promisedI cud marry you if I cud git fifty dollars” and tells her that he spent itall on presents for her (O, p. 13). But even Ado Annie, seemingly theweakest strategic thinker among the women, points out that presentsare not the same thing as cash, which of course is what Carnes requires.The first step in strategic thinking is to understand the motivations ofother people, and Will fails completely in this. Will understands thefifty dollars as evidence of his own status as a provider and suitablehusband; for Will, the fifty dollars is about what he is “worth” andwhat “he cud git.” Will buys presents with the money to heighten thesymbolic impact. But of course Carnes cares about the fifty dollars notas a test, symbol, or demonstration of anything, but simply as a cashtransfer.Will’s present for Carnes is the “Little Wonder,” a cylinder whichyou can peep into and see pictures of scantily-clad women. Later welearn that the Little Wonder has a hidden blade, and thus after asking anunsuspecting victim to hold it up to his eye to look at the pictures, youcan pop the blade open and slam it into his chest. The Little Wondercaptures the importance of strategic thinking in a single concrete object.If you do not think strategically, if you do not understand the truemotivations of others, you can help yourself get stabbed. Strategicallyclueless Will of course bought it not knowing what it is.At the Box Social, each young woman has prepared a lunch hamper,and the men bid for them to raise money for the schoolhouse. AuntEller is selected as auctioneer by universal acclamation. Luckily, Willruns into Ali Hakim, who is betrothed to Ado Annie and wants out. AliHakim bails Will out of his symbol-rich, cash-poor condition, buyingWill’s presents with cash so that Will can take Annie off his hands. Heeven helps Will, who thinks that $45.50 and $3.50 add up to $50, with45

his arithmetic. Unaware of Ali Hakim’s motivations, Will thinks thathe has outsmarted Ali Hakim. Even with the undeserved fifty dollarsin his hands, Will is still obsessed with what the money “means”; heplans to tell Carnes that it proves that he, not Ali Hakim, is the smartone.The last two lunch hampers to be auctioned off are Ado Annie’sand Laurey’s. Aunt Eller had tried to keep secret who prepared whichhamper, but Ado Annie blurts out which hamper is hers and whichone is Laurey’s, and thus the auction becomes a way to publicly bid foreach young woman’s affections. Prodded by Carnes’s gun, Ali Hakimbids six bits (seventy-five cents), and then ninety cents. Dramaticallybesting his rival, Will bids fifty dollars and publicly announces thatCarnes must stick to his promise that Annie belongs to him, now thathe has fifty dollars in cash. Will displays the money to the crowd ina grand gesture, but he is immediately deflated by Carnes pointingout the obvious: since he has bid the fifty dollars, the money now belongsto the schoolhouse, and thus Ali Hakim still gets his daughter.Again, Will’s obsession with the dramatic and symbolic crowds out themost elementary “if I take this action, then that will happen” reasoning.Facing imminent matrimony, Ali Hakim gulps and bids fifty-onedollars. Will is stunned to be outbid by his rival but speaks out loudas Ali Hakim and Aunt Eller walk him through the reasoning: “Wait aminute. Wait! ’F I don’t bid any more I c’n keep my money, cain’t I?. . . ’Nen I still got fifty dollars. . . . And I git Annie!” (O, p. 34). Atutorial in strategic reasoning could not be clearer. A situation is set upin which the practical strategic action is the opposite of the impressivesymbolic action, and even a person bad at strategic reasoning can workit out, step by step, with the help of explicit instruction.After Ado Annie and Will are set to be married, Ali Hakim getsseveral extra kisses from Annie by saying that he is a friend of the familynow and that kisses on the mouth are how Persians say goodbye. Later,after Ali Hakim gets married to Gertie via her father’s shotgun, Willtries the same “friend of the family” story to kiss Gertie, but againdoesn’t think things through; Ado Annie, who is standing right there,sees the whole thing and thus takes a swing at Gertie. Here Will is Fox46

to Ali Hakim’s Rabbit: Will imitates the specific tactic (fish stealing,“friend of the family”) but woefully misrecognizes the larger strategicsituation. Will tries to run off and keep Annie from killing Gertie, butAli Hakim advises him to mind his own business.Ali Hakim is not just good at strategic reasoning; he is also a nascentrational choice theorist. He is good at math, better than Will at least, andas a merchant, he is the most “market-oriented” of all the characters. Inthe musical number “It’s a Scandal! It’s an Outrage!”, Ali Hakim callsfor a revolution against the existing courtship regime in which “It’sgittin’ so you cain’t have any fun!/Ev’ry daughter has a father with agun!” (O, p. 18). But when the single men he is trying to organize askhim who will be the first man to be shot, he realizes that it must be him,as their leader. As the men start their revolution by revolving on thestage, the stage directions state that the girls “pick them off the line andwalk off with them” (O, p. 19). Long before the social science literatureon the free-rider problem (Olson 1965), Oklahoma! states the centralstrategic problem in revolution: no one wants to be the first personto be shot, and any collective action is vulnerable to individuals beingpicked off one by one. When Ado Annie says to him that becausehe married Gertie, he must have wanted to marry her, Ali Hakimresponds exactly as a rational choice theorist would: “Sure I wantedto. I wanted to marry her when I saw the moonlight shining on thebarrel of her father’s shotgun!” (O, p. 46). A layperson might say thatAli Hakim was “forced” to marry Gertie, but the utility maximizationmodel would say that Ali Hakim made a choice after his payoffs wereadjusted by Gertie’s father. Finally, the essence of Ali Hakim, andthe essence of rational choice theory, is the “elixir of Egypt,” specialsmelling salts which he sells to Laurey. Ali Hakim explains, “Readwhat it says on the label: ‘Take a deep breath and you see everythingclear.’ That’s what Pharoah’s daughter used to do. When she had ahard problem to decide, like what prince she ought to marry, or whatdress to wear to a party, or whether she ought to cut off somebody’shead—she’d take a whiff of this” (O, p. 12). If you have a hard timemaking choices and do not conform to rational choice theory, you mighttry a whiff.47

What is a Persian peddler doing in Oklahoma anyhow? Accordingto Most (1998), most of the actual peddlers in the American West atthis time were Jews of German origin. Ali Hakim’s settling down inOklahoma by marrying Gertie and running her father’s store is thus anargument for tolerance and Jewish assimilation into wholesome whiteAmerica. The first actor to play Ali Hakim on Broadway was theYiddish actor Joseph Buloff, and in a party celebrating Oklahoma!’s firstanniversary, Hammerstein was billed as “Mister Ali Hakimstein.” Mostspeculates that Ali Hakim’s name comes from the Yiddish and Hebrewword hacham, a “clever man.” In the musical number “The Farmer andthe Cowman,” after “the farmer and the cowman should be friends”is sung several times, the line “the farmer and the cowman and themerchant/Must all behave theirsel’s and act like brothers” is sung justonce, allowing a fleeting moment of inclusion for merchants (O, p. 31).Instead of seeing Ali Hakim’s musical number “It’s a Scandal! It’s anOutrage!” as an exploration of the free-rider problem in revolution,Most explains Ali Hakim’s dancing with the Oklahoma men folk asaligning himself with the community and gaining their sympathy. Thisargument for assimilation and tolerance required some urgency at thetime; Kirle (2003) notes that anti-Semitic sentiment in the 1940s includednativist suspicion that Jews, specifically “Hollywood” Jews in theaterand film, were trying to maneuver the US into the war against Nazism.Oklahoma! not only argues that Jews are assimilable and “should befriends,” but more specifically that naive, trusting Americans need notfear Jewish strategic manipulation, since it is no match to the wiles ofOklahoma women.For in spite of his strategic sophistication, Ali Hakim loses in hisencounters with women; after all, he ends up hitched to the tiresomeGertie. But his true superior is Ado Annie, the most sophisticatedstrategist of all. Ado Annie projects an image of impulsiveness andreckless desire. In her defining musical number, “I Cain’t Say No,”Ado Annie sings that “I’m jist a fool when lights are low. . . . Soon asI sit on their laps/Somethin’ inside of me snaps/I cain’t say no!” (O,p. 10). But she almost gives the game away when she sings “Other girlsare coy and hard to catch/But other girls ain’t havin’ any fun!/Ev’ry48

time I lose a wrestling match/I have a funny feelin’ that I won!” (O,p. 10). When she says that she wins by losing, she does not mean thatshe learns to make the best of any situation. Instead, making othersthink that she can be taken advantage of is part of her strategic arsenal,illustrated in how she snares Ali Hakim. Ali Hakim tries to maneuverAdo Annie into the hotel in Claremore by saying that they can findParadise there. Annie replies that Ali Hakim must mean that he wantsto marry her. Annie’s misunderstanding is not hopelessly naive butpurposeful, placing marriage on the agenda. She already knows whatwill soon become clear to the rest of us: it does not matter what AliHakim intends his words to mean; all that matters is what others cantake his words to mean.With marriage on the agenda, Ali Hakim attempts evasive maneuvers,but luckily at that moment Will Parker shows up declaring hisintentions to marry Ado Annie. Ali Hakim is delighted. After somepurty talk from Will, Ado Annie can’t hold back any longer and finallykisses Will. Later, Annie solemnly goes to Ali Hakim to say that shehas to marry Will. Ali Hakim replies that Will is a fine fellow. Annietearfully entreats, “Don’t hide your feelin’s, Ali. I cain’t stand it. I’druther have you come right out and say yer heart is busted in two”(O, p. 16). After twice asking her if she is certain that she must marryWill and that there is no chance that she will change her mind, AliHakim, magnanimous in his escape, proclaims, “All right, then, myheart is busted in two” (O, p. 16). Just then Carnes shows up mutteringabout the news that Will Parker has returned with fifty dollars. Annieexplains that Will has already spent the money on presents and Carnessays that therefore Will can’t have her. Ali Hakim can’t keep his mouthshut and objects: “But, Mr. Carnes, is that fair!” Annie introduces AliHakim to her father and says, “Ali, if I don’t have to marry Will, mebbeyour heart don’t have to be busted in two like you said” (O, p. 16). Alinow knows he is doomed and must deny outright that he ever saidthose words. Annie seals the deal by telling Carnes that the night before,Ali Hakim had told her that she was “like a Persian kitten cuz theywas the cats with the soft round tails” (O, p. 17). Carnes cocks his gunand declares, “That’s enough. In this part of the country that better be49

a proposal of marriage.” Annie exclaims, “Oh Ali, ain’t it wonderful,Paw makin’ up our mind for us? He won’t change, neither. Once hegives his word that you c’n have me, why you GOT me.” “I KNOW Igot you,” mutters Ali Hakim (O, p. 17).For most audience members, this sequence confirms Ado Annie’sditziness: hilariously, she gets what she wants in the end after a seriesof almost accidental events in which she behaves naively throughout.But the fact that she can fool us as well as Ali Hakim shows her strategicskill (see also Schaechterle 1994). Because of Will’s return, Ali Hakimis about to escape and thereby “win” his encounter with Annie. Annieaccepts that she will not get Ali Hakim’s proposal and “loses” to him,but before completely letting him off the hook, extracts his admissionof love, even dictating his exact words. Ali Hakim trusts Annie whenshe says that she must marry Will, because he is certain that Annie isa silly, romantic fool who just wants to hear words of love for theirown sake. Hopelessly naive Annie could not possibly be manipulatinghim. After all, a few sweet nothings were almost enough to get herto a hotel bedroom, and Annie did this long song and dance tellingeveryone how she cares only about kisses and purty words and nottheir long-term implications. However, Ali Hakim’s admission of loveis not an afterthought but the entire point, which via an armed fathercan be upgraded into an actual betrothal. By losing, Annie wins. Fromthe start, Annie knows that Will is a non-issue because he doesn’t havecash. Annie knows that the only way that Ali Hakim would declarehis love is if such a declaration has no chance of marital implications.By kissing Will and making her love for Will more genuine, whether infact or appearance, she makes Ali Hakim’s admission more likely andgets Will’s kiss as a bonus. Ali Hakim tries to use Will’s proposal toescape, an obvious strategic plan. Annie uses Will’s proposal to pin AliHakim down, which is much more advanced. Annie disavows any ofher own strategic involvement, wiping her fingerprints off the murderweapon, by saying that her Paw makes up their minds for them.Ado Annie’s strategic skill is displayed again at the auction whenshe “mistakenly” blurts out which lunch hamper is hers and which isLaurey’s. Knowing that Curly and Jud had already exchanged words,50

and a few demonstration gunshots, over Laurey, Aunt Eller had attemptedto prevent outright conflict between them by not revealingwhich hamper was Laurey’s. Annie, however, would enjoy a biddingwar over her hamper (which does in fact occur) in the hope of smokingout a declaration of love from a potential suitor. If she identified herhamper in an obviously intentional way, she could be charged withvanity and placing her friend Laurey at risk. Annie’s strategic mindsetis further revealed in her duet “All Er Nuthin’ ” with Will. Will tries tomake her understand that once they are married, she must settle down:“I’m a one woman man/Home-lovin’ type . . . If you cain’t give me all,give me nuthin’—/And nuthin’s whut you’ll git from me” (O, p. 38).Instead of declaring her steadfast love, Annie makes a counteroffer:“Would you build me a house,/All painted white,/Cute and clean andpurty and bright?” (O, p. 38). Annie’s last act on stage is to take a sockat Gertie and thus finally display her combativeness openly.Compared with Annie, Laurey is the sensible girl, who knows that“you just cain’t go around kissin’ every man that asts you!” (O, p. 9).Laurey tries a strategic maneuver, saying that she will go to the BoxSocial with Jud Fry in order to spite Curly, whom she truly loves, butshe doesn’t think it through. She doesn’t think about actually havingto go alone with Jud and ends up begging Aunt Eller to come with her.When she sees Ali Hakim, she says that she wants “things I cain’t tellyou about—not only things to look at and hold in yer hands. Thingsto happen to you” (O, p. 12), and eagerly buys the elixir of Egypt. Shetakes a whiff, saying that “it’s goin’ to make up my mind fer me” whilethe girls around her sing “Make up your mind, make up your mindLaurey” (O, p. 28). Life really starts, “things happen to you,” only whenyou start making choices. Laurey’s learning to make choices is part ofher transition from girl to adult married woman. After Jud falls on hisown knife in a fight with Curly after Laurey’s and Curly’s weddingand dies, Aunt Eller, anticipating public suspicion if Curly were to flee,decides that Curly and Laurey should not go away that night for theirhoneymoon. Aunt Eller tells Laurey to try to forget this horrible event.Aunt Eller’s strategic ability, which extends to manipulating one’s ownmemories, is part of what she calls being “hearty” and “tough,” and51

is a mature quality (Aunt Eller calls herself “scrawny and old”) whichLaurey admires: “I wisht I was the way you are” (O, p. 47).Before their wedding, Laurey and Curly suffered as did Beatriceand Benedick, both wanting to love but both proud, sensitive to the painof loving without return. When he calls at Laurey’s farm, Curly doesnot directly ask Laurey to go to the Box Social with him and does noteven ask Aunt Eller directly where Laurey is; rather he asks Aunt Ellerwhat she would say if he asked her where Laurey is. Laurey and Curlyare good at pricking at each other’s pain. Curly sings about the surreyhe would pick up Laurey in if he were to ask her, expecting correctlythat this will draw Laurey in. Then Curly says that he is not sure thathe will ask Laurey after all, trying to retaliate for Laurey’s haughtinessearlier. Laurey retaliates in turn by exclaiming that he must have rentedthe surrey already and doesn’t have anyone to take in it. Curly thensays that he made up everything about the surrey, and that Laurey wasa fool for believing in it. They are good at these childish strategems,but completely at a loss in the larger matter of actually getting married.Their duet “People Will Say We’re in Love” acknowledges the powerof third-party expectations (which works for Beatrice and Benedick)but only to discount it and use it for competition (Curly asks Laurey ifpeople think that she is stuck on him, but she replies that people thinkhe is stuck on her).Just as the target audience for horror films is the “cuddle market,”“teenagers who want excuses to squeal and clutch each other in thedark” (Abramowitz and Crabtree 2007), it takes the incipient menaceof Jud Fry to allow Curly and Laurey to maneuver themselves together.At the Box Social, Curly bids against Jud for Laurey’s hamper by sellinghis saddle, horse, and gun, but such a public and extreme declarationof intent for Laurey would be ridiculous without the justification ofsaving her from his brooding, violent, competitor. After Laurey firesJud, she is scared of what Jud might do, and seeks out Curly ostensiblyfor protection but also receives his embrace. Even after Laurey acceptshis marriage proposal, Curly shouts that “she’s went and got me to asther to marry me!” (O, p. 42). Laurey’s acceptance of their union is mosttruly expressed not in her acceptance of his marriage proposal but in52

her echo and confirmation of Curly’s excuse that he was not thrownby a bronco (at the fair where they first met), but rather jumped off.Laurey provides cover for Curly’s pride, and for the first time they usetheir inexpert strategic abilities in concert, not in opposition.Curly could have moved faster by simply taking Aunt Eller’s advicein the very first scene: “jist grab her and kiss her when she actsthat-a-way” (O, p. 5). He is much better at thinking strategically inhis interactions with male rivals. Jud, the hired hand on Laurey’s andAunt Eller’s farm, mentions that a fire on the Bartlett farm was not anaccident but was in fact set by their hired hand: “the h’ard hand wasstuck on the Bartlett girl, and he found her in the hayloft with anotherfeller” (O, p. 24). Curly understands this as an implicit threat to Laurey,and responds with an implicit threat of his own, demonstratinghis marksmanship by shooting a bullet through a knot-hole in Jud’sshack. When bidding against Jud in the auction for Laurey’s hamper,Curly doesn’t make an outright mistake like Will does, although likeWill he is overly concerned with symbolism. Despite Laurey’s practicalpleadings that it isn’t worth it, Curly sells the basic tools of hislivelihood in order to get the cash to bid against Jud, and even thoughJud’s highest bid is $42.13, Curly after selling his gun bids not $42.14but $53. However, for Curly, unlike Will, it must be said that gallantrypays off, since Curly thereby eventually wins Laurey’s hand and herfarm. Perhaps Curly bids $53 because gallantry dictates that Laurey’shamper should fetch a price at least as high as Ado Annie’s, which AliHakim bought for $51.Jud Fry is set apart from the other characters in several ways. Judis the only “employee,” while every other man is self-employed asa farmer, cowboy, or merchant. Everyone else lives in either a properhome or in the healthy outdoors, while Jud lives in a filthy smokehouse.According to Most, Jud Fry is racialized to be black (the stage directionsstate that he should sing “like a Negro in a revival meeting” (O, p. 23))and is the unassimilable ethnic outsider, in contrast to Ali Hakim, whois assimilable through intermarriage. But another essential differenceis Jud’s poor strategic thinking. Unlike the utterly clueless Will, Judthinks he knows something about strategy, and thus his failures are not53

cute but stupid. Two of his mistakes occur in the auction for Laurey’shamper. After Curly has sold his saddle and horse and has only his gunleft, Jud, possibly recalling Curly’s earlier demonstration shot implyingthat he will protect Laurey with it, reasons out loud that Curly cannotsell his gun because “you need that bad” (O, p. 36). Jud knows that in anauction or any strategic situation, one must understand the preferencesof the others involved. Thus Jud bids his entire savings confident ofwinning. However, Jud’s estimation of Curly is wrong; Curly sellshis gun, choosing gallantry over weaponry (when Jud later attacksCurly after his wedding, he oddly uses a knife instead of a gun, thuspreventing an awkward demonstration of Curly’s lack of foresight).Jud makes his second mistake when he declares that his bid of $42.13is “all I got in the world—all I saved for two years, doin’ farm work”(O, p. 36). This is Jud’s own attempt at gallantry, but if you are tryingto keep someone from outbidding you, the last thing you should do isdeclare exactly how much money you have.Similarly, after the auction, Jud thinks he is being clever by showingCurly the Little Wonder, but his plan is thwarted by Ali Hakim,who knows what it is. Jud had asked to buy one from him earlier, butAli Hakim replied that “I—er—don’t handle things like that. Too dangerous”(O, p. 26). When Ali Hakim sees Jud try this pathetic maneuveron Curly, he quickly whispers to Aunt Eller, who then screams at Curlyasking him to dance, hastily but effectively defusing the situation. Ofcourse, Jud could have foreseen this, since he knew that Ali Hakimknew what a Little Wonder is, and he knew that Ali Hakim knew thathe had one, since Ali Hakim had mediated Will’s selling it to him.But Jud’s greatest misunderstanding by far is his approach towardLaurey. Jud is tired of the postcards of women which he buys from AliHakim; he sings that he will “Git myself a bride,/Git me a womern tocall my own” (O, p. 27). His approach, however, remains consumeristic;when he bids his life savings for Laurey’s hamper, he declares that heis just as good as Curly at “gittin’ whut I want. Goin’ to bid all I got inthe world—all I saved for two years, doin’ farm work. All for Laurey”(O, p. 36). For Jud, it’s all about getting what he (and not his potentialbride) wants; he bids not for Laurey’s hamper or the chance to eat lunch54

together, or even for her favor or acceptance, but for Laurey herself.When Curly tells Jud that Laurey might go to the Box Social with himinstead, Jud responds, “She promised to go with me, and she betternot change her mind. She better not!” (O, p. 26). Jud’s threats fullyunfold after Laurey refuses his embrace: “Yeah, we’ll see who’s better—Miss Laurey. Nen you’ll wisht you wasn’t so free ’th yer airs, you’resuch a fine lady” (O, p. 40). In response, Laurey fires Jud, who leavesmuttering, “Told you the way it was. You wouldn’t listen” (O, p. 40).Jud does think of Laurey as making decisions; he wouldn’t threatena woman on a postcard. But he completely misunderstands the realstrategic issue, which is that even in territorial Oklahoma, a womanmust consent to marriage. Curly is too shy or proud to ask Laurey tomarry him, exclaiming that Laurey in fact asked him to marry her, butJud doesn’t even know that he is supposed to ask. For Jud, findinga bride involves going up to a woman and telling her the way it is.The difference between women on postcards and a “real woman” isnot just physicality, “arms [which] keep me warm” and “long yellerhair/[which] Falls across my face” (O, p. 27). Women on postcards,and some have argued that this is a defining aspect of pornography,do not need to and cannot consent. This misunderstanding, more thananything else about Jud, places him outside ordinary society. At leastsome competence in strategic thinking is required for basic sociality.Finally, the person who uses strategic reasoning consistently andeffectively throughout, for the good of her niece Laurey and the entirecommunity, is Aunt Eller. Her plans do not always work (for example,her attempt in the auction to keep secret which hamper is Laurey’s andwhich is Ado Annie’s) but they are always thoughtful; Aunt Eller nevermakes a mistake. The most important problem which Aunt Eller solvesis how to quickly resolve Curly’s status after his fight with Jud in whichJud dies after falling on his own knife. Cord Elam, the federal marshalin charge, tells Curly that he should give himself up and travel to court,in a distant town, to tell the judge, Carnes, what happened. But it isCurly’s wedding night, and Aunt Eller says that they can just bendthe law a little by having a trial right there on the spot. When CordElam says to Carnes, “I shore feel funny” about this, Aunt Eller replies,55

“You’ll feel funny when I tell yer wife you’re carryin’ on ’th anotherwomern.” Cord Elam protests, “I ain’t carryin on ’th no one” but AuntEller responds, “Mebbe not, but you’ll sure feel funny when I tell yourWIFE you air” (O, p. 48). Cord Elam might be a federal marshal, butthe matriarch Aunt Eller is the real head of state, whose instruments ofpower include strategic manipulation and women’s gossip networks.When farmers and cowmen begin to fight, it is Aunt Eller, not Carnesor Cord Elam, who fires a shot into the air and then uses her gun as aconductor’s baton, directing the crowd in singing, not slugging. Herwarning gunshot is not questioned by anyone, as opposed to Curly’sand Jud’s gunshots earlier, which Aunt Eller called “jist a pair of foolsswappin’ noises” (O, p. 25). Only Aunt Eller possesses the legitimateuse of violence. Aunt Eller’s solution to the farmer versus cowmandispute is for everyone to “learn these words by heart the way youshould—/I don’t say I’m better than anybody else,/But I’ll be damnedif I ain’t jist as good” (O, p. 31). This is not just a plea for tolerance andequality; calling it a tie is of course is the only way to keep “we’re betterthan you” claims from escalating endlessly. As auctioneer, Aunt Eller isin charge of the hamper market and by extension the marriage market;she manipulates the auction to help Laurey, asking for more bids sothat Jud doesn’t win and slowing it down so that Curly has the timeto respond. Aunt Eller’s authority is political (dictating the terms ofCurly’s trial), social (advising Curly on how to win Laurey), economic(conducting the auction), and cultural (conducting the chorus with hergun). Curly’s ascension via marriage from cowboy to head of the farmsupplants to some extent Aunt Eller’s authority. The improvisationalauthority of aunt and niece is replaced by the formal institutional authorityof the patriarchal family, paralleling Oklahoma’s transition fromterritory to “brand new state,” and even the ancient transition from mobilehunting and gathering societies, with female spiritual authority, tosettled agricultural societies based on male authority (Lerner 1987).A shared strategic expertise explains the unlikely pairing of AuntEller with Ali Hakim, the only male who can fight her to a standoff.When Ali Hakim comes by Laurey’s farm, Aunt Eller cusses him outbecause the eggbeater he had sold her earlier did not live up to its56

advertised claims. Ali Hakim offers a present in compensation, a silkPersian garter. Aunt Eller agrees to try it on, and Ali Hakim puts it onher outstretched foot. As he raises it above her ankle, Aunt Eller kickshim, exclaiming, “Did you have any idy I’d let you slide that garter upmy limb?” (O, p. 11). Note that Aunt Eller doesn’t reprimand Ali Hakimfor indecently trying to slide up the garter, but for his incorrect strategicthinking, his presumption that she would let him slide up the garter.Afterward, Ali Hakim remarks to Ado Annie, “Funny woman. Wouldbe much worse if I tried to take her garters off” (O, p. 11). Ali Hakim’sjoke (that taking garters off and putting them on are both objectionable)is a counterclaim that his strategic thinking is in fine shape, and thathe can predict what Aunt Eller would do in another situation. Also, itturns out that Ali Hakim had a plan all along; after giving Aunt Ellerone garter as a present, he offers to sell her the matching garter for fiftycents. Aunt Eller yells, “Do you want me to get that eggbeater and ramit down your windpipe!” and snatches the matching garter from him.Laurey buys the elixir of Egypt, and the transactions conclude with AliHakim offering to show the women some fancy drawers made in Paris.Aunt Eller reluctantly invites Ali Hakim inside for food and drink, theonly instance in the entire show that a woman invites a man indoors.Later, at the Box Social, Aunt Eller and Ali Hakim are a strategic team,together helping Will realize that he can win Ado Annie by losing theauction, and together saving Curly from Jud’s Little Wonder.Rodgers and Hammerstein based Oklahoma! on the stage play GreenGrow the Lilacs by Lynn Riggs (1931). Riggs’s play included Jud (“Jeeter”in Riggs’s play), Curly, and Laurey, and Aunt Eller’s intervention topreserve the couple’s wedding night after Jud’s death, but Rodgersand Hammerstein came up with most of the strategic aspects discussedhere. If Hammerstein brought to Oklahoma elements from the Jewishfolk tradition, he would not be the only one: Sheinkin (2010) chroniclesthe adventures of Rabbi Harvey in Wild West Colorado, and Fleischman(1963 [1988], p. 22–26; see Sheinkin 2010, p. 134) places a lie detectiontechnique from Elijah ben Solomon (and even earlier from Akbar andBirbal (Sarin 2005, p. 32)) into the California gold rush.57

7Jane Austen’s six novelsJane Austen’s six novels, among the most widely beloved in the Englishlanguage, constitute a comprehensive analysis of strategic thinking.In this chapter, I survey them as chronicles of how a young womanlearns strategic thinking skills, starting from as early as childhood.Strategic thinking not only helps you get married; strategic skill is partof being a grown woman, like Aunt Eller. When Fanny successfullymanipulates her sister Betsey to give up Susan’s knife, she is “fearfulof appearing to elevate herself as a great lady,” worried about oversteppingher bounds (MP, p. 459). Fanny is right to suspect that hermanipulation of Betsey carries with it a change of status, but it is anecessary change: a step from childhood to womanhood, from girl tolady, a rite of passage as important as a first dinner out or openingthe first dance at a ball in your honor. Young women learn strategicthinking partly from reading novels and from watching their peers andolder sisters, but mainly from having to make decisions themselves indemanding social situations.All six novels discuss how a person learns strategic thinking; Itake them in increasing order of the depth of their concern. I first discussPride and Prejudice, the most “lively” and popular novel but theone in which people’s strategic abilities develop the least; ElizabethBennet and Mr. Darcy come to recognize their mistakes but do not reallyacquire new strategic skills, having been well-equipped from thestart. Sense and Sensibility goes farther in that it explores through thesisters Elinor and Marianne Dashwood how strategic thinking requiresboth good decision-making (Elinor’s strength) and necessarily fancifulspeculation (Marianne’s obsession). In Persuasion, the more mature (attwenty-seven) Anne Elliot also starts strategically skilled, but learns58

to trust her own ability and outgrow her mother-figure Lady Russell.The next two novels explicitly describe how a young woman learnsstrategic thinking. In Northanger Abbey, seventeen-year-old CatherineMorland starts with no training but gradually learns strategic thinkingby making her own decisions in a sequence of increasingly importantsituations. In Mansfield Park, Fanny Price, even constrained and mistreatedby her adopted family since the age of ten, learns how to makeher own choices in the face of complete opposition. Finally, in Emma,Austen explores the dangers of overconfident strategicness.The discussion here touches upon many topics discussed moresystematically in the following chapters, such as the perils of overstrategicness,the distinction between strategicness and selfishness, theusefulness of seemingly self-defeating or even hysterical tactics, strategicpartnership as the best foundation for marriage, strategic manipulationof yourself as well as other people, the ability to make good choiceseven when overpowered by emotion, the necessity of understandingothers’ minds as different from your own, and the danger that prideand status consciousness can make you strategically stupid. Needlessto say, there is an immense literature on Austen; without attemptingto survey it or claim the primacy of my own reading, I try to makeconnections and draw contrasts when possible.Pride and PrejudicePride and Prejudice is about “problem solving,” how Elizabeth Bennetand Mr. Darcy overcome their mutual disregard and realize theirlove for each other. It is Austen’s most straightforward novel in thatpeople’s strategic thinking skills do not substantially develop, althoughMr. Darcy must learn that a marriage proposal is a strategic situation.Elizabeth is set up with strategic skills right from the start; according toher father Mr. Bennet, she “has something more of quickness than hersisters” (PP, p. 5). Mrs. Bennet is eager to marry off her five daughters,and has designs on Mr. Bingley, the new unmarried tenant of NetherfieldPark nearby. When Jane, the eldest, is invited by Mr. Bingley’ssister Caroline to Netherfield, Mrs. Bennet has Jane go on horseback so59

that the anticipated rain would compel her to stay there all night andmaximize face time with Mr. Bingley. What Elizabeth calls a “goodscheme” works all too well and Jane falls ill, staying at Netherfieldfor several days (PP, p. 34). Elizabeth visits her ailing sister and seesMr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley’s close friend. Earlier at a ball, Mr. Bingley hadsuggested that Mr. Darcy dance with Elizabeth, but Mr. Darcy had madean unkind remark about her appearance, which Elizabeth overheard.Thus when Mr. Darcy asks her to dance at Netherfield, Elizabeth thinksthat he wants to humiliate her and declines, saying “I always delightin overthrowing those kind of schemes” (PP, p. 56). Since Elizabeth“attracted him more than he liked,” Mr. Darcy, “[s]teady to his purpose”and also strategically skilled, “wisely resolved to be particularlycareful that no sign of admiration should now escape him” (PP, p. 66).Elizabeth likes Mr. Darcy even less when the handsome Wickhamtells her that Mr. Darcy’s father had intended to bequeath to Wickhama living as a priest, but Mr. Darcy ignored his father’s wishes. CarolineBingley warns Elizabeth that Wickham is not to be trusted, but Elizabethsees Mr. Darcy’s malice behind her intervention.Since the Bennets have no son, Mr. Bennet’s entailed property uponhis death defaults to a male cousin, Mr. Collins, who shows up with theidea of marrying a Bennet daughter as a partial remedy. Mrs. Bennethints that Jane might be engaged soon, and thus Mr. Collins soonproposes to Elizabeth, the second daughter. Mr. Collins doesn’t takeElizabeth’s no for an answer and appeals to Elizabeth’s parents, butMr. Bennet agrees with Elizabeth that Mr. Collins is a fool. Mr. Collinsthen goes to his third choice, proposing successfully to Charlotte Lucas,Elizabeth’s friend.When Mr. Bingley abruptly goes away to London, Jane concludesthat she must have been mistaken in fancying that he ever had any realaffection for her, but Elizabeth instead sees a conspiracy by Mr. Darcyand Caroline. Elizabeth learns indirectly through conversation withMr. Darcy’s cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam that Mr. Darcy did indeed convinceMr. Bingley to stop pursuing Jane. Thus when Mr. Darcy unexpectedlyproposes, Elizabeth responds angrily, blaming him for hersister Jane’s unhappiness and for mistreating Wickham. The next day,60

Mr. Darcy writes a letter to Elizabeth explaining that he had not understoodthat Jane had truly cared for Mr. Bingley and that Wickhamwas deeply untrustworthy, having attempted to elope with his sisterGeorgiana Darcy when she was fifteen years old.Elizabeth’s uncle Mr. Gardiner and his wife Mrs. Gardiner offer totake her on a sightseeing trip northward, and Elizabeth agrees eventhough she is wary of going anywhere near Pemberley, Mr. Darcy’sestate. Mrs. Gardiner has memories of Pemberley, and wants to visit;Elizabeth is relieved at least that Mr. Darcy is scheduled to be awaytraveling during their visit. Mr. Darcy returns home one day early andalthough their meeting is awkward, Mr. Darcy treats Elizabeth and theGardiners with the greatest kindness. Walking the grounds of Pemberley,Mrs. Gardiner, claiming fatigue, falls back with her husband,allowing Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy to walk alone together.Jane writes Elizabeth with the alarming news that Wickham hasrun off with their younger sister Lydia, with no intention of marriage.After talking with the runaway couple in London, Mr. Gardiner writesto Mr. Bennet that they will marry as long as Mr. Bennet gives themLydia’s equal share of the five thousand pounds which the five Bennetdaughters will receive upon the death of their parents, as well asan additional 100 pounds a year. Mr. Bennet, Elizabeth, and Jane aresurprised that these amounts are so small and conclude that Mr. Gardinermust have paid off Wickham with a substantial sum, perhaps tenthousand pounds.Elizabeth pries out of Mrs. Gardiner the information that Mr. Darcyfirst located Wickham and Lydia in London, and had settled the matterwith his own wealth. According to Mrs. Gardiner, Mr. Darcy felt responsiblebecause he did not warn anyone of Wickham’s true character,but Mrs. Gardiner suspects that his true goal was Elizabeth’s affection.Mr. Bingley arrives and happily proposes to Jane. Elizabeth, however,receives a surprise visit from the dour Lady Catherine de Bourgh,Mr. Darcy’s aunt. Lady Catherine, who had planned for Mr. Darcyto marry her own daughter, demands that Elizabeth promise to refuseany proposal from him. Elizabeth replies that she cannot make such apromise, infuriating Lady Catherine.61

Mr. Darcy proposes to Elizabeth again, this time successfully, sayingthat he had gained hope when he heard from Lady Catherine thatElizabeth would not promise to refuse him. Mr. Darcy explains toElizabeth that once he had told Mr. Bingley that he was convinced ofJane’s affection for him, that was enough to make Mr. Bingley propose.Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are thankful to Lady Catherine, whose “unjustifiableendeavours to separate us, were the means of removing allmy doubts” (PP, p. 423) and also to the Gardiners, “who, by bringingher into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them” (PP, p. 431).Throughout, Elizabeth’s strategic ability remains constant; the reasonthat it is plausible that she, a very young woman “not one andtwenty” (PP, p. 187), can react with such poise to Lady Catherine’s aggressivesurprise visit, in a manner decisive for her eventual marriage,is that she displays strategic quickness from the very beginning. Herstrategic thinking draws her to reasonable but not always helpful conclusions;someone less strategic like Jane may have taken Caroline’swarning about Wickham more literally, or may have taken Mr. Darcy’sinvitation to dance as an expression of interest, not contempt. Elizabeth’srelationship to Mrs. Gardiner, a strategically skilled superiorwho looks out for Elizabeth’s interests (in contrast to Elizabeth’s ownmother Mrs. Bennet, a “woman of mean understanding, little information,and uncertain temper” (PP, p. 5)), does not change even afterElizabeth attains the status of married woman. Elizabeth can alwaysuse Mrs. Gardiner’s help and is grateful for it.Mr. Darcy had been certain that his first proposal would be accepted,and thereby learns the hard way that a proposal is a strategicsituation: the proposer must consider whether the proposee will actuallyaccept or not. Mr. Darcy acknowledges that Elizabeth’s initialrefusal was a “lesson” which “properly humbled” him (PP, p. 410).Otherwise, his strategic sense is pretty good from the very start also,even on matters between men and women. When Elizabeth first visitsNetherfield to see Jane, Caroline asks Elizabeth to walk about the roomtogether, and Mr. Darcy tells them that he can surmise two motivations:“You either chuse this method of passing the evening because you arein each other’s confidence and have secret affairs to discuss, or because62

you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantagein walking” (PP, p. 62). When Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy converse, sheis “determined to leave the trouble of finding a subject to him” andsubsequently Mr. Darcy “took the hint” (PP, p. 200). When Elizabethrefuses his first proposal, Mr. Darcy caustically retorts, “I thank you forexplaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavyindeed!” (PP, p. 214). But Mr. Darcy should indeed thank Elizabeth formaking her charges specific and thus enabling him to respond to themspecifically and fully in his letter. Together Elizabeth and Mr. Darcywork together to solve a problem, and their existing strategic skills aresufficient for this.Lydia Bennet comes out of nowhere to jump to the head of themarriage line, but she also does not change fundamentally in termsof her strategic skills, which were evident early on in her tracking ofthe regimental officers camped nearby and her “delicious scheme” offollowing them to Brighton (PP, p. 243). To Elizabeth and Jane, Lydia’smarriage is an indecent reward for foolishness and licentiousness, butwe might suspect that Lydia, perfectly aware of her own family’s meagerwealth, knows that her best shot at marrying with any money at allis to create a crisis situation in which wealthier members of the extendedfamily, such as Mr. Gardiner, must bail her out to preserve the familyreputation. Such a plan only works with a mercenary bridegroom notalready committed to marrying her in the first place, and Wickhamfills the bill. Lydia’s projection of utter recklessness (like Ado Annie)also helps. Mrs. Bennet understands all of this perfectly, not blamingbut rather incentivizing Lydia, telling her brother Mr. Gardiner that “asfor wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but tell Lydia sheshall have as much money as she chuses, to buy them, after they aremarried” (PP, p. 318). When Mr. Bennet is about to return home, givingup the rescue of Lydia to Mr. Gardiner, Mrs. Bennet is aware that he isnot playing his role as patriarchal enforcer (which Carnes played whenmaking Ali Hakim marry Ado Annie) and exclaims, “Who is to fightWickham, and make him marry her, if he comes away?” (PP, p. 329).Once they marry, Jane tries to shame her mother into gratitude by notingthat Mr. Gardiner must have paid Wickham off, but Mrs. Bennet63

eplies, “it is all very right; who should do it but her own uncle?” (PPp. 338).One person who does develop her strategic skills is the remainingBennet daughter Kitty, who doesn’t understand her father’s joke thatshe “has no discretion in her coughs” (PP, p. 6) and asks her mother,“What do you keep winking at me for? What am I to do?” when Janeand Mr. Bingley might be left alone together (PP, p. 382). Kitty soonlearns that she would “rather stay at home” when asked if she wants totake a walk with Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy (PP, p. 416). Once Jane andElizabeth are married, and Kitty spends time with them, “[i]n societyso superior to what she had generally known, her improvement wasgreat” (PP, p. 427–428).Sense and SensibilityLike Elizabeth Bennet, the Dashwood sisters Elinor and Mariannecome with fully functioning strategic skills in Sense and Sensibility. Elinor“possessed a strength of understanding, and coolness of judgment”and “Marianne’s abilities were, in many respects, quite equal to Elinor’s.She was sensible and clever” (SS, p. 7). Elinor’s skills do notdevelop much in the course of the novel, but Marianne’s require recalibration.Like Brer Rabbit, who ascribes motivations to an inert object,Marianne is much too eager to speculate about other people’s motives,but learns, after a near-death experience, how she can be utterly wrong.Elinor is good at making decisions, while Marianne overspecializes inthinking about other people’s motives. The two sisters thus exemplifytwo skills both necessary for strategic thinking.The sisters’ main task is to figure out what is going on with theiruncertain suitors. Marianne asks her mother Mrs. Dashwood why EdwardFerrars is pursuing Elinor so slowly: “Twice did I leave thempurposely together in the course of the last morning, and each timedid he most unaccountably follow me out of the room” (SS, p. 47).Willoughby’s pursuit of Marianne is more rapid, and when Marianneexcuses herself from a family visit to Lady Middleton, “under sometrifling pretext of employment,” Mrs. Dashwood, “who concluded that64

a promise had been made by Mr. Willoughby the night before of callingon her while they were absent, was perfectly satisfied with herremaining at home” (SS, p. 87). When the family returns, finding Mariannein tears and Willoughby not sure when he can call again, Elinordoubts her mother’s belief that Marianne and Willoughby are engaged.Mrs. Dashwood, who has “eagerness of mind” like Marianne (SS, p. 7),thinks up a rationale for Willoughby’s sudden departure: his patronMrs. Smith, from whom he expects to inherit, suspects his engagementwith Marianne and disapproves, and has therefore called him away(in actuality, Mrs. Smith disowned Willoughby after learning that hehad impregnated and abandoned the very young Eliza; Willoughbytherefore must quickly run off to propose to the wealthy Miss Grey).Mrs. Dashwood’s confidence in Willoughby is based largely on his mannerand appearance: “Has not his behaviour to Marianne and to all ofus, for at least the last fortnight, declared that he loved and consideredher as his future wife. . . . Has not my consent been daily asked by hislooks, his manner, his attentive and affectionate respect?” (SS, p. 92).When Elinor suggests that her mother simply ask Marianne if theyare engaged, Mrs. Dashwood does not want to force Marianne’s confidenceand exclaims, “Supposing it possible that they are not engaged,what distress would not such an inquiry inflict!” (SS, p. 97). Elinormight be wary of her mother’s and Marianne’s fancifulness, but whenEdward Ferrars also abruptly ends his visit with the Dashwoods forno apparent reason, Elinor also cannot stop thinking about Edward’strue motivations, and must employ her own fancy: “the past and thefuture, on a subject so interesting, must be before her, must force herattention, and engross her memory, her reflection, and her fancy” (SS,p. 121).Lucy Steele confides in Elinor that she has been secretly engagedwith Edward for several years and Elinor easily understands Lucy’sstrategic objective in telling her so: “it required no other considerationof probabilities to make it natural that Lucy should be jealous; andthat she was so, her very confidence was a proof. What other reasonfor the disclosure of the affair could there be, but that Elinor might beinformed by it of Lucy’s superior claims on Edward, and be taught to65

avoid him in future?” (SS, p. 162). Elinor and Marianne visit Londonwith Mrs. Jennings, Lady Middleton’s mother, and when Mrs. Jenningsbecomes occupied with the birth of her grandchild, Elinor and Marianne’shalf-brother John Dashwood proposes that they stay with hisfamily. But his wife Fanny Dashwood is the sister of Edward Ferrars,and the Ferrars family plans for Edward to marry the rich Miss Morton.To prevent Elinor from getting any closer to Edward, Fanny replies thatshe had already invited Lucy Steele and her sister Anne, of course notknowing that Lucy is a far greater risk.Anne Steele, naively thinking that “they are all so fond of Lucy,”reveals Lucy and Edward’s engagement (SS, p. 293). Horrified, the Ferrarsfamily ejects the Steele sisters and disowns Edward; Mrs. Ferrars,Edward’s mother, installs his younger brother Robert as recipient of theNorfolk estate which Edward would have received. Now that the secretis out, Elinor explains Lucy’s tactic to Marianne and her own strategicresponse of appearing indifferent: “It was told me,—it was in a mannerforced on me by the very person herself, whose prior engagement ruinedall my prospects; and told me, as I thought, with triumph.—Thisperson’s suspicions, therefore, I have had to oppose, by endeavouringto appear indifferent where I have been most deeply interested” (SS,pp. 298–299). Elinor’s self-command makes this a teachable momentfor Marianne, who had been reveling in unrestrained anguish over hermistreatment by Willoughby: “Oh! Elinor . . . you have made me hatemyself for ever. . . . Because your merit cries out upon myself, I havebeen trying to do it away” (SS, p. 299).Colonel Brandon, friend of the Dashwoods and admirer of Marianne,goes to Elinor and asks her to tell Edward that he would like tooffer him a living on his estate, to help enable Edward, cut off fromfamily support, to marry Lucy. Edward is grateful to Colonel Brandonbut imputes his generosity to Elinor. Marianne takes long thoughtfulwalks and catches cold from getting her shoes and stockings wet.Marianne’s health rapidly declines, and in a fever she cries outwildly for her mother. Elinor quickly decides to send Colonel Brandonto fetch Mrs. Dashwood, but Willoughby unexpectedly shows up first,66

having heard that Marianne is close to death. Willoughby seeks forgiveness,telling Elinor that he had felt true affection for Marianne, butthat his benefactress Mrs. Smith had dismissed him for not marryingColonel Brandon’s niece Eliza Williams, with whom he had fathered abastard child. With no money, he could not marry Marianne and thushad to marry the wealthy Miss Grey.Mrs. Dashwood arrives and Marianne eventually recovers, vowinggreater self-command: “my feelings shall be governed and my temperimproved. They shall no longer worry others, nor torture myself” (SS,p. 393). But she still can’t help falling “back in her chair in hysterics”when they learn that the former Lucy Steele now goes by the nameMrs. Ferrars, thus crushing any hope that Edward might still marryElinor (SS, p. 400). But Edward shows up and it turns out that Lucymanaged to marry the newly endowed Robert Ferrars. Honorablyreleased from his engagement, Edward proposes to Elinor, and Marianne,after much encouragement from Elinor and her mother, ends uphappily with Colonel Brandon.Elinor uses her strategic skills throughout. She convinces Marianneto not accept the gift of a horse from Willoughby early on in hissupposed courtship, not by arguing for its impropriety (“She knew hersister’s temper. Opposition on so tender a subject would only attachher the more to her own opinion”) but by saying that the horse wouldinconvenience their dear mother (SS, p. 69). Later she makes sure tointercept news of Willoughby’s wedding so she can break it to Mariannegently, “desirous that Marianne should not receive the first noticeof it from the public papers” (SS, p. 246). After she learns of Edward’sengagement to Lucy, she tries to “weaken her mother’s dependenceon the attachment of Edward and herself, that the shock might be lesswhen the whole truth were revealed” (SS, p. 179) and similarly triesto keep Mrs. Jennings from perceiving Marianne’s fervent hopes thatWilloughby will call on them in London. Most importantly, Elinor persuadesEdward, who is rightfully upset, to reconcile with his mother,which results in her consent to their marriage and his reinclusion intothe family, as well as ten thousand pounds.67

Of course, Lucy Steele is equally strategic: when Robert Ferrarsprivately visits her to convince her to drop her engagement with Edward,Lucy parlays his visit into several recurring visits, demonstratinghow “an earnest, an unceasing attention to self-interest, howeverits progress may be apparently obstructed, will do in securing everyadvantage of fortune” (SS, p. 426). After Edward and Elinor are engaged,Edward still wants to think that Lucy had some affection forhim, because she wanted to marry him even after his family disownedhim. Elinor replies that Lucy’s tactic might have been a milder versionof Lydia Bennet’s: “she might suppose that something would occur inyour favour; that your own family might in time relent” (SS, p. 416).After all, Lucy earlier wrote Elinor asking “to recommend him to anybody that has a living to bestow” (SS, p. 315). For that matter, Lucyhad correctly anticipated that Robert would be the correct target; whenshe and Elinor first met, she told Elinor that she and Edward did notdare mention their engagement to Mrs. Ferrars because “in her first fitof anger upon hearing it, [she] would very likely secure every thing toRobert” (SS, p. 169). Lucy and Elinor are different not in their strategicskills but in their objectives. Strategic skills do not have to be usedfor mercenary purposes, such as marrying money and quashing competitors.One can be a strategic Elinor without being a gold diggerLucy.Understanding other people’s motives requires an active imagination,but Marianne’s is hypertrophic. For example, Colonel Brandonhaltingly tells Elinor that he once knew a woman like Marianne whosuffered unfortunate circumstances. For Elinor, “it required but a slighteffort of fancy to connect his emotion with the tender recollection ofpast regard. Elinor attempted no more. But Marianne, in her place,would not have done so little. The whole story would have been speedilyformed under her active imagination” (SS, p. 67). Mrs. Jennings idlyremarks that hunters are out in the countryside but will return as winteradvances. Marianne, wondering why the hunter Willoughby hasnot called on them yet in London, “saw every night in the brightnessof the fire, and every morning in the appearance of the atmosphere, the68

certain symptoms of approaching frost” (SS, p. 191). Of course, Marianne’sworst misconception is thinking that she was actually engagedto Willoughby: “I felt myself . . . to be as solemnly engaged to him,as if the strictest legal covenant had bound us to each other.” WhenElinor replies that “unfortunately he did not feel the same,” Mariannesubmits, “He did feel the same, Elinor—for weeks and weeks he felt it.I know he did” (SS, p. 214).Overconfidence in your ability to know other people’s true motivescan lead to solipsism. When Mrs. Jennings hands a letter to Marianne,“her imagination placed before her a letter from Willoughby, full oftenderness and contrition” (SS, p. 229). But crushingly, the letter turnsout to be from Mrs. Dashwood instead, and Marianne concludes thatMrs. Jennings, who had only tried to comfort, had intentions of thegreatest cruelty. Marianne “expected from other people the same opinionsand feelings as her own, and she judged of their motives by theimmediate effect of their actions on herself” (SS, p. 229). Given the “irritablerefinement of her own mind, and the too great importance placedby her on the delicacies of a strong sensibility,” Marianne believes thatothers have the same sensibility as herself and should therefore seethe effects of their actions like she does (SS, pp. 228–229). Anyonewhose actions give her pain should be able to see that and is thus doingso on purpose. Marianne comes dangerously close to resemblingthe patently ridiculous Mrs. Palmer, Mrs. Jennings’s daughter, who believesthat she would have been married to Colonel Brandon, who is aclose friend of her sister’s husband Sir John Middleton, “[b]ut mamadid not think the match good enough for me, otherwise Sir John wouldhave mentioned it to the Colonel, and we should have been marriedimmediately” (SS, p. 135). Mrs. Palmer believes this even though shehad only met Colonel Brandon twice.Yet without speculation, fancy, and imagination, strategic thinkingis impossible. For example, when Elinor convinced Marianne to notaccept Willoughby’s present of a horse by appealing to their mother’sconvenience, she did so based on her expectation that Marianne wouldrespond contrarily if she instead more directly argued for its impropriety.But this expectation, however well-grounded, could have been69

incorrect, and cannot be verified short of going back in time and seeingwhat would have happened had Elinor tried that strategy instead.Anyone in a social situation must conjecture about the motivations ofother people and how they will respond to one’s actions. If one waitsuntil these conjectures are somehow made almost certain, then onewould rarely act at all. As Mrs. Dashwood notes, “Are no probabilitiesto be accepted, merely because they are not certainties?” (SS, p. 91).When Elinor and Marianne are invited to the home of Mrs. Ferrars,a pair of screens painted by Elinor are passed around for admiration.But when the screens are remarked to be in the style of Miss Morton,a rare moment of appreciation for Elinor threatens to morph into anall-out Miss Morton praise session, and thus Marianne bursts “intotears.—Every body’s attention was called, and almost every body wasconcerned” (SS, p. 269). Marianne had wanted to return home to seeher mother immediately after being dumped by Willoughby, and hadbeen waiting for months, but only when she is sick and cries out wildlyin a fever, terrifying Elinor, is Mrs. Dashwood actually sent for. Arethese emotional outbursts purposeful? In both instances, Marianneobjectively succeeds: further praise of Miss Morton is prevented, andshe finally gets to see her beloved mother. It also must be said thatMarianne’s incessantly displayed cultivation of delicacy makes bothparoxysms more believable. The big payoff, however, is Willoughby’srush to Marianne, to ask for her forgiveness and declare that his affectionhad been genuine. When Elinor receives him and asks whyhe came, Willoughby exclaims: “What I felt on hearing that your sisterwas dying—and dying too, believing me the greatest villain uponearth, scorning, hating me in her latest moments. . . . My resolution wassoon made, and at eight o’clock this morning I was in my carriage” (SS,pp. 374–375).Would Marianne actually allow herself to become ill, even riskingdeath, just to motivate Willoughby’s journey of repentance or at leasthasten her mother’s arrival? She caught cold by taking long walkswhere “the grass was the longest and wettest” and her illness was“assisted by the still greater imprudence of sitting in her wet shoes andstockings” (SS, p. 346). After she recovers, Marianne admits to Elinor,70

“My illness, I well knew, had been entirely brought on by myself bysuch negligence of my own health, as I had felt even at the time to bewrong. Had I died,—it would have been self-destruction” (SS, p. 391).Getting sick is another way to create a crisis situation. But perhapswe are making the same mistake as Marianne did with Mrs. Jennings,seeing strategic premeditation where none exists. Perhaps Marianneis not engaging in brinkmanship but is truly going mad. In the US,people who commit suicide are predominantly male and “usually planthe act, take precautions to avoid interruption, and chiefly use rapidlyeffective, generally irreversible means. Their purpose is to die. . . .and the great majority succeed on the first attempt.” However, muchmore common (perhaps ten times more) are “parasuicides.” Peoplewho commit parasuicide are predominantly female, “make provisionsfor rescue (others present or notified), and employ slowly effective orineffective means [drug overdose]. Their purpose is to survive and(usually) to send a message to another person” (Murphy 1998, p. 166).Thirteen-year-old Margaret, the youngest Dashwood sister, startsout strategically naive. Early on, when Mrs. Jennings tries to get Margaretto reveal the name of Elinor’s suitor, “Margaret answered bylooking at her sister, and saying, ‘I must not tell, may I, Elinor?’ Thisof course made every body laugh” (SS, p. 71). But near the end whenEdward Ferrars visits, after the Dashwood family has understood himto have married Lucy Steele, “Margaret, understanding some part, butnot the whole, of the case, thought it incumbent on her to be dignified,and therefore took a seat as far from him as she could, and maintained astrict silence” (SS, p. 407). Margaret’s strategic abilities are developing,and soon she “reached an age highly suitable for dancing, and not veryineligible for being supposed to have a lover” (SS, p. 431).PersuasionAt twenty-seven years of age, Anne Elliot is the oldest of Austen’sheroines, and like Elizabeth Bennet and the Dashwood sisters, comesready-made with strategic skills. But Persuasion is a coming-of-agestory in that Anne outgrows her superior in strategic ability. Anne71

comes to realize that her dear friend Lady Russell, the intimate of herlate mother who has been guiding her since childhood, has not helpedher make the best decisions. In the end, “[t]here was nothing less forLady Russell to do, than to admit that she had been pretty completelywrong, and to take up a new set of opinions and of hopes” (P, p. 271).Lady Russell loves Anne and has done her best to counsel Anne in hermost important decision, whom to marry, but Anne comes to “learnthat she and her excellent friend could sometimes think differently”(P, p. 159). Despite Lady Russell’s greater life experience, “[s]he wasa woman rather of sound than of quick abilities” (P, p. 12). Anne issimply better at strategic thinking and at judging people. As opposedto Elizabeth Bennet, who remains “always on the most intimate terms”with Mrs. Gardiner (PP, p. 431), and as opposed to the Dashwood sisters,whose relationship with their mother doesn’t change upon marriage,Anne has to outgrow Lady Russell and their relationship mustbe reestablished on new terms, with her husband Captain Wentworthvaluing Lady Russell “in spite of all her former transgressions” (P,p. 274).When Anne was nineteen, she had received Captain Wentworth’sproposal, but Lady Russell persuaded Anne against it. At the time,Captain Wentworth had little going for him but attitude: “He was brilliant,he was headstrong.—Lady Russell had little taste for wit; and ofany thing approaching to imprudence a horror” (P, p. 29). Eight yearslater, now successful and well-off, Captain Wentworth visits his sisterMrs. Sophia Croft, who with her husband Admiral Croft is rentingKellynch Hall, the estate of Sir Walter Elliot, Anne’s father. Sir Walterhad to rent out the estate because of his own financial profligacy, andhas moved to cheaper quarters in Bath with his eldest daughter Elizabethand her widow friend Mrs. Clay, leaving Anne behind with theyoungest daughter Mary and Lady Russell. Mary is married to CharlesMusgrove, whose grown sisters are Louisa and Henrietta.Passive among the company of the Musgroves and Captain Wentworth,“Anne’s object was, not to be in the way of any body” (P, p. 90).Mostly Anne tries to perceive Captain Wentworth’s feelings: “to retentivefeelings eight years may be little more than nothing. Now,72

how were his sentiments to be read?” (P, p. 65). Anne is mortifiedwhen she hears that Captain Wentworth finds her “[a]ltered beyondhis knowledge”; while playing the piano, “she felt that he was lookingat herself—observing her altered features, perhaps, trying to trace inthem the ruins of the face which had once charmed him” (P, pp. 65,77–78). To understand him, Anne puts herself in his place: “Had hewished ever to see her again, he need not have waited till this time; hewould have done what she could not but believe that in his place sheshould have done long ago” (P, p. 63). Anne is obsessed enough thatshe begins to presume that she understands him better than anyoneelse: “There was a momentary expression in Captain Wentworth’s face. . . a certain glance of his bright eye, and curl of his handsome mouth . . .but it was too transient an indulgence of self-amusement to be detectedby any who understood him less than herself” (P, p. 73).But stronger evidence than words or glances are Captain Wentworth’sactions, which demonstrate his own strategic acumen. First hepries Walter, Mary’s two-year-old son, off Anne’s back; as opposed toAnne and her neighbor Charles Hayter, Captain Wentworth knows thattwo-year-olds cannot be “ordered, intreated,” or incentivized; sometimesyou just have to grab them (P, p. 86). Next, during a long walk,the Musgroves, Charles Hayter, Anne, and Captain Wentworth runinto Admiral and Mrs. Croft in their carriage. There is room in thecarriage for one other person, and the Crofts offer to take one of theyoung women home. But “Captain Wentworth cleared the hedge ina moment to say something to his sister,” resulting in Mrs. Croft insistingthat Anne go with them (P, p. 97). Captain Wentworth knowsthat Anne is too modest to accept the offer when it was offered to thefour young ladies as a group, but cannot decline such a direct offer.Anne understands all this, and “was very much affected by the viewof his disposition towards her, which all these things made apparent. .. . She understood him. He could not forgive her,— but he could not beunfeeling. . . . [H]e could not see her suffer, without the desire of givingher relief” (P, p. 98).73

Despite Anne’s passivity, her investment of energies into detectionas opposed to action, when an emergency arises she is best at makingdecisions. The group visits Captain Wentworth’s friend CaptainHarville at Lyme and are taking a seaside walk on the Cobb, a stoneharbor wall. Louisa has so much enjoyed being jumped down the stilesof the Cobb by Captain Wentworth that she wants to do it again, despitehis reservations that the pavement is too hard. “[S]he smiled and said,‘I am determined I will:’ he put out his hands; she was too precipitateby half a second, she fell on the pavement on the Lower Cobb, and wastaken up lifeless!” (P, p. 118). When Mary in turn falls faint, and evenCaptain Wentworth, “as if all his own strength were gone,” cries out, “Isthere no one to help me?”, Anne steps up and directs the group to usesmelling salts, rub Louisa’s temples and hands, and call for a surgeon(P, p. 118). When Captain Wentworth sets off for the surgeon, Annepoints out that Captain Benwick, a friend who has been staying withCaptain Harville, should go instead since he is the only one in the partywho knows Lyme well. The women, Mary and Henrietta, are insensibleor hysterical, and the remaining men, Charles Musgrove and CaptainWentworth, “[b]oth seemed to look to her for directions. ‘Anne, Anne,’cried Charles, ‘what is to be done next? What, in heaven’s name, is tobe done next?’ ” (P, pp. 119–120).Anne directs them to take Louisa to the inn, but Captain Harvilleand his wife, informed by Captain Benwick running by, appear anddirect the party to their home, where the surgeon pronounces Louisa nothopeless. Anne returns to the Musgrove residence with Henrietta andCaptain Wentworth, but is still in charge, persuading Louisa’s parentsto stay in lodgings at Lyme until Louisa recovers, and arranging for theMusgrove family’s nursery maid, who had brought up the Musgrovechildren, to nurse Louisa. Louisa gradually improves and the rescueparty disperses, with Anne going with Lady Russell to join her familyin Bath, as originally planned, and Captain Wentworth off to see hisbrother.In Bath, Anne finds that Mr. William Walter Elliot, the cousin whois the heir presumptive to Sir Walter’s estate, has ingratiated his wayinto the family, overcoming his offenses several years earlier; the family74

had hoped he would marry Elizabeth, but he married another wealthywoman instead, without consulting with Sir Walter, head of the house,and had even spoken contemptuously of the family. Mr. Elliot, nowa widower, regularly visits Sir Walter, Elizabeth, and Mrs. Clay, whois still hanging around. Anne soon finds herself his target, and LadyRussell recommends that Anne accept his addresses, hoping that Annewill be restored as Lady Elliot: “occupying your dear mother’s place,succeeding to all her rights, and all her popularity, as well as to all hervirtues, would be the highest possible gratification to me” (P, p. 173).The Crofts arrive in Bath, ostensibly for the Admiral’s gout, andAnne receives the surprising news that Louisa Musgrove is marryingCaptain Benwick. Knowing that Louisa is no longer eligible for CaptainWentworth, Anne “had some feelings which she was ashamed to investigate.They were too much like joy, senseless joy!” (P, p. 182). WhenCaptain Wentworth arrives in Bath, Anne finally takes subtle but crucialstrategic actions. Sitting inside a shop on Milsom Street as it startsto rain, Anne is startled to see through the window Captain Wentworthwalking down the street. Anne manages to manipulate herself into goingtoward the door and Captain Wentworth unexpectedly enters theshop and bumps into her. Later, Anne attends a concert because sheknows that Captain Wentworth likes music; she works up the courageto address him if he arrives, by saying to herself that she owes it tohim, since her sister Elizabeth had pointedly turned away from himat Milsom Street. Captain Wentworth enters, and “making yet a littleadvance, she instantly spoke. He was preparing only to bow and passon, but her gentle ‘How do you do?’ brought him out of the straightline to stand near her” (P, p. 197). After their conversation, they loseeach other in the crowd, and the widower Mr. Elliot annoyingly finds aseat next to Anne as the concert begins. During intermission, CaptainWentworth does not present himself, but through “a little scheming ofher own, Anne was enabled to place herself much nearer the end of thebench than she had been before, much more within reach of a passer-by.. . . [S]he found herself at the very end of the bench before the concertclosed” (P, p. 206). Captain Wentworth brusquely wishes Anne goodnight and rushes off, forcing Anne to conclude, “Jealousy of Mr. Elliot!75

It was the only intelligible motive. . . . For a moment the gratificationwas exquisite. But alas! there were very different thoughts to succeed.. . . How, in all the peculiar disadvantages of their respective situations,would he ever learn her real sentiments?” (P, p. 207).Captain Harville and members of the Musgrove family also surprisinglyappear in Bath, reuniting the Lyme company, exceptingLouisa and Captain Benwick. When Anne visits them at their hotel,she finds Mrs. Musgrove talking with Mrs. Croft and Captain Harvilletalking with Captain Wentworth. Captain Harville asks to speak withAnne, and with Captain Wentworth within listening distance, CaptainHarville laments the fickleness of Captain Benwick, who had beenengaged to his sister Fanny, but after her death is quickly marryingLouisa: “Poor Fanny! she would not have forgotten him so soon!” (P,p. 252). Anne agrees, and Captain Harville guides the conversation intoa comparison of whether men or women are more constant in their attachment.Through gentle but successively greater challenges, CaptainHarville goads Anne into speaking increasingly warmly of women’sconstancy, with Anne finally ending with the declaration: “I shoulddeserve utter contempt if I dared to suppose that true attachment andconstancy were known only by woman. No, I believe you capable ofevery thing great and good in your married lives. . . . All the privilege Iclaim for my own sex (it is not a very enviable one, you need not covetit) is that of loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone” (P,p. 256). Overhearing this cry, Captain Wentworth is moved to silentlywrite a letter to Anne declaring the constancy of his own heart. Heexits, but under the pretense of recovering his gloves, comes back inand gives the letter to Anne without attracting notice.Anne is so overpowered by the letter that she does not understandwhat people around her are saying. Listening comprehension skillsmight momentarily desert her but her strategic ability does not: sheimmediately refuses the offer to be carried home by a chair so that shewill not lose the possibility of catching up with Captain Wentworthas he walks through town, makes a backup plan by asking Mrs. Musgrovetwice to promise to assure Captains Harville and Wentworththat they are both expected at her father’s party that evening, and even76

makes a backup backup plan, assuring herself that if Captain Wentworthdoesn’t show, she can send word to him via Captain Harville.Charles Musgrove volunteers to walk Anne home, but when they meetCaptain Wentworth in the street, Charles remembers an engagement ofhis and asks Captain Wentworth to serve in his stead, with all happinessresulting. What had brought Captain Wentworth to Bath was Anne’srevealed preference. He knew that she had refused the proposal ofCharles Musgrove three years after his own: “It was possible that youmight retain the feelings of the past, as I did; and one encouragementhappened to be mine. I could never doubt that you would be lovedand sought by others, but I knew to a certainty that you had refusedone man at least, of better pretensions than myself: and I could nothelp often saying, Was this for me?” (P, p. 265).By marrying Captain Wentworth, Anne declares her independencefrom Lady Russell’s advice, now eight years old. The final strike againstLady Russell’s judgment was that the widower Mr. Elliot turned outto be “a man without heart or conscience; a designing, wary, coldbloodedbeing, who thinks only of himself; whom for his own interestor ease, would be guilty of any cruelty, or any treachery, that could beperpetrated without risk of his general character” (P, p. 215). These arethe words of Anne’s old school friend Mrs. Smith, living impoverishedin Bath due to the negligence of Mr. Elliot, who was a close friend ofher deceased husband and the executor of his will. Anne had longsuspected Mr. Elliot’s character and realizes that she escaped LadyRussell just in time: “Anne could just acknowledge within herself sucha possibility of having been induced to marry him, as made her shudderat the idea of the misery which must have followed. It was just possiblethat she might have been persuaded by Lady Russell!” (P, pp. 228–229).In the end, Lady Russell accepts her diminished role: “she was a verygood woman, and if her second object was to be sensible and welljudging,her first was to see Anne happy. She loved Anne better thanshe loved her own abilities” (P, pp. 271–272).Anne is now independent of Lady Russell, but we can infer thehelp she receives from others. By outgrowing Lady Russell, Anneis not cast out alone in an atomistic world; to find and secure love,77

sometimes you need all the help you can get. Anne had supposedthat apart from her own immediate family and Lady Russell, only oneother person had known about Captain Wentworth’s first proposal,his brother Edward, because his sister, Mrs. Croft, had been out ofthe country at the time. But surely Anne should suspect that in thecourse of eight years, most likely his proposal had been talked about,quite possibly by Captain Wentworth himself. The only reason whyAnne thinks that Edward has not talked about it is that he was a singleman (and therefore conclusively untalkative) at the time. Before theCrofts rented Sir Walter’s estate, Mrs. Croft knew that her brother knewAnne. When Anne first meets her, Anne feels she is on safe grounduntil Mrs. Croft suddenly asks, “It was you, and not your sister, I find,that my brother had the pleasure of being acquainted with, when hewas in this country. . . . Perhaps you may not have heard that he ismarried?” (P, pp. 52–53). Anne recovers once Mrs. Croft explains thatshe is talking about her brother Edward, not Captain Wentworth. It ishard to imagine a better way for Mrs. Croft to gauge Anne’s visceralinterest in her unmarried brother and at the same time give Anne spaceto recover. Mrs. Croft recommends the married naval life to a groupincluding Anne (and Captain Wentworth) and “always met her with akindness which gave her the pleasure of fancying herself a favourite”(P, p. 136). Of course Mrs. Croft knows what to do when her brotherasks her to entreat Anne to accept a ride with her and Admiral Croftin their carriage. When Anne hears the Crofts talk together in thecarriage about Captain Wentworth’s marriage hopes, Mrs. Croft’s tonewhen discussing the Musgrove sisters “made Anne suspect that herkeener powers might not consider either of them as quite worthy of herbrother” (P, p. 99). After Captain Benwick and Louisa are set to marry,Admiral Croft tells Anne that Captain Wentworth “must begin all overagain with somebody else. I think we must get him to Bath. Sophy[Mrs. Croft] must write, and beg him to come to Bath. . . . Do not youthink, Miss Elliot, we had better try to get him to Bath?” (P, p. 188).Even Edward Wentworth enquires “very particularly” about Anne (P,p. 264).78

Charles Musgrove, who had proposed to Anne before succeedingwith her sister Mary, is continually throwing some single man inAnne’s direction, courting her by proxy. Charles tells Lady Russell thatCaptain Benwick spoke of Anne using the words “Elegance, sweetness,beauty” and will surely visit them soon, although he never does(P, p. 142). When Charles, Captain Harville, and the various otherMusgroves show up in Bath, the motivation for their trip, and whetherCaptain Wentworth is with them, is mysterious, and even Mary, usuallyobsessed only with herself, is in on it: “Anne could not draw uponCharles’s brain for a regular history of their coming, or an explanationof some smiling hints of particular business, which had been ostentatiouslydropped by Mary, as well as of some apparent confusion asto whom their party consisted of” (P, p. 234). Charles proposes thatthey all go see a play (“I have engaged Captain Wentworth. Anne willnot be sorry to join us, I am sure”), instead of attending Sir Walter’sparty to which Mr. Elliot is invited (P, p. 242). Charles’s proposal is notreally serious, but it does allow Anne to state in the presence of CaptainWentworth that if it were up to her she would prefer the play over theparty.When Anne visits the Musgroves at their hotel, where CaptainWentworth will soon write his letter, little does she know that she iswalking into an ambush. Mary and Henrietta have just cleared outof the way, leaving Mrs. Musgrove, Mrs. Croft, and Captains Harvilleand Wentworth. Anne is told that “the strictest injunctions had beenleft with Mrs. Musgrove, to keep her there till they returned” andtherefore she has no choice but to sit there, captive along with CaptainWentworth, the other target (P, p. 180). Mrs. Musgrove and Mrs. Croft,“in that inconvenient tone of voice which was perfectly audible whileit pretended to be a whisper,” agree that long engagements are bestavoided and it is always better to marry at once (P, p. 250). Anne “feltits application to herself, felt it in a nervous thrill all over her, and at thesame moment that her eyes instinctively glanced towards the distanttable, Captain Wentworth’s . . . head was raised, pausing, listening, andhe turned round the next instant to give a look—one quick, consciouslook at her” (P, p. 251). Captain Harville calls Anne to stand with him79

nearby Captain Wentworth, and induces her proclamation of woman’seternal constancy. Predictably inspired, Captain Wentworth writes hisletter to Anne and leaves with Captain Harville. After Anne reads theletter, Charles Musgrove, with an excuse preset (“an engagement at agunsmith’s”), volunteers to escort Anne home, only to exit immediatelyupon meeting Captain Wentworth, leaving the two together (P, p. 260).Anne had “felt almost certain of meeting him” in the street (P, p. 259),but objectively speaking, a chance meeting was unlikely since CaptainWentworth had left several minutes before her. Captain Wentworthhad left in the care of Captain Harville, and Anne had left in the careof Charles Musgrove, and Harville and Musgrove are the two whoorganized the trip to Bath together in the first place (“The schemehad received its first impulse by Captain Harville’s wanting to cometo Bath on business. . . . Charles had proposed coming with him”(P, p. 235)). Are Anne and Captain Wentworth guided from start tofinish? Are Mrs. Croft, Captain Harville, and Charles Musgrove toAnne what Mrs. Gardiner is to Elizabeth Bennet? Austen encouragesus to trace everyone’s motivations and actions in detail, to exercise ourown strategic thinking.Northanger AbbeyCatherine Morland in Northanger Abbey does not come equippedwith strategic skills; in fact “[s]he never could learn or understand anything before she was taught; and sometimes not even then, for shewas often inattentive, and occasionally stupid” (NA, p. 6). Strategicskills do not come naturally but must be taught, and Catherine receivesinstruction from real-world decision-making situations, as well as frompeers and also novels.Given that her older siblings are all brothers, Catherine starts outwith understandably little instruction in strategic thinking. Catherineat ten loves boys’ plays and was “noisy and wild, hated confinementand cleanliness” and even at fourteen loves “cricket, base ball, ridingon horseback, and running about the country” (NA, pp. 6–7). Learningstrategic skills is part of becoming a grown woman, and her real training80

egins once she visits Bath, at the age of seventeen, accompanying herneighbors Mr. and Mrs. Allen, who have no children of their own totake with them.At Bath, Catherine is befriended by Isabella Thorpe, who is fouryears older and presumes strategic superiority: Isabella “could discovera flirtation between any gentleman and lady who only smiled oneach other. . . . These powers received due admiration from Catherine,to whom they were entirely new” (NA, p. 26). Isabella tells Catherinethat her preference is for light eyes and sallow complexion in aman, and that “[y]ou must not betray me, if you should ever meetwith one of your acquaintance answering that description” (NA, p. 36).Catherine, not understanding why a woman might not want her preferencesknown, replies, “Betray you!—What do you mean?” (NA, p. 36).When Catherine asks Eleanor Tilney whether she thinks the girl herbrother Henry Tilney danced with is pretty, Catherine reveals her ownpreference for Henry “without the smallest consciousness of having explainedthem” (NA, p. 71). Catherine is “not experienced enough in thefinesse of love” and is not yet skilled at reading others’ feelings: whenher own brother James Morland and Isabella’s brother John Thorpeunexpectedly arrive in Bath, James greets Isabella “with a mixture ofjoy and embarrassment which might have informed Catherine, had shebeen more expert in the development of other people’s feelings, andless simply engrossed by her own, that her brother thought her friendquite as pretty as she could do herself” (NA, pp. 29, 39).Catherine’s strategic naivety is due to a lack of training in herown family. In contrast, the Thorpe family, which produced Isabella,encourages fancy, surmises, and indirection. After James proposes toIsabella, Catherine thinks it unkind that Isabella’s younger sisters arenot told directly, “but Anne and Maria soon set her heart at ease by thesagacity of their ‘I know what;’ and the evening was spent in a sort ofwar of wit, a display of family ingenuity, on one side in the mysteryof an affected secret, on the other of undefined discovery, all equallyacute” (NA, p. 123).Catherine begins her training in earnest when she is placed in agraduated sequence of situations, each successively more weighty. The81

first is when she must choose whether to join her brother and John andIsabella on their country drive, even though she had originally plannedto look for Eleanor Tilney and her brother Henry Tilney at the pumproom.Catherine excitedly chooses to go on the drive, but afterwardwhen Mrs. Allen tells her that Henry and her sister were indeed at thepump-room and she had even conversed with them for half an hour,Catherine learns that every choice includes the “opportunity cost” offoregoing the choices not taken, and one should always look ahead:“[c]ould she have foreseen such a circumstance, nothing should havepersuaded her to go out with the others” (NA, p. 66). The next evening,at the cotillion ball, Catherine must figure out how to be available todance with Henry Tilney but at the same time avoid John Thorpe: “shefidgetted about if John Thorpe came towards her, hid herself as muchas possible from his view, and when he spoke to her pretended not tohear him” (NA, p. 72). At the ball, Henry and Eleanor and Catherinemake a plan to go on a walk the next day at noon as long as it does notrain. At eleven it starts to rain lightly, and at half past twelve, it starts toclear. But her brother James, Isabella, and John Thorpe unexpectedlyshow up and ask Catherine to join them on another drive, this timeto Blaize Castle. Catherine must decide whether the Tilneys will keepthe engagement, and must think about their preferences: “whetherthere had not been too much rain for Miss Tilney to venture, mustyet be a question” (NA, p. 82). For the first time Catherine thinks ofthe Tilneys as making a choice; earlier, Catherine regarded whetherthe Tilneys would show up at the pump-room as a matter of luck, acircumstance. John Thorpe reports that he saw the Tilneys riding offin a carriage, and Catherine concludes that “I suppose they thought itwould be too dirty for a walk”; since Catherine has a romantic interestin castles, the matter is settled and the party rides off (NA, p. 84).On the way, Catherine spots the Tilneys walking down the street andentreats John Thorpe to stop. Thorpe instead speeds his horses forwardand it is apparent to Catherine that Thorpe had deceived her. NowCatherine must somehow make amends to the Tilneys, and when shesees Henry the next evening at the theatre, her eager apology is morethan successful, and they schedule their walk again. But again the82

iding party asks her to drop her engagement and come along withthem instead, and this time Catherine resolutely refuses. John Thorpethen goes to Eleanor, saying that Catherine had sent him to tell herthat she had been previously engaged for the ride, and thus cannot gowith the Tilneys, and proudly returns to report his crude manipulation.Catherine runs after the Tilneys with even greater resolve, declaring,“If I could not be persuaded into doing what I thought wrong, I neverwill be tricked into it” (NA, p. 101). Catherine, who originally wasso easily persuadable, who could even be flattered into saying thatshe likes John Thorpe, has experienced the downside of going withthe flow and has now been toughened up enough to make her owndecisions given her own preferences. After James proposes to Isabella,and John Thorpe asks her, “Did you ever hear the old song, ’Going toone wedding brings on another?’ . . . [W]e may try the truth of this sameold song,” Catherine is more than prepared to reply, “May we?—but Inever sing” (NA, p. 125).How does Catherine learn strategic thinking from her peers? Isabellacontinually imputes strategicness to Catherine, but only to advanceher own interests. Isabella tells Catherine that when she met herbrother James, they had discovered that “our opinions were so exactlythe same, it was quite ridiculous! . . . [Y]ou are such a sly thing, I amsure you would have made some droll remark or other about it. . . .You would have told us that we seemed born for each other, or somenonsense of that kind” (NA, p. 68). Isabella informs Catherine aboutJames’s marriage proposal by saying that Catherine must have figuredit out already; Catherine cannot “refuse to have been as full of archpenetration and affectionate sympathy as Isabella chose to considerher” and thereby Isabella, concerned about Catherine’s parents’ consentgiven her own family’s lack of fortune, gains Catherine’s sympathyand reassurance (NA, p. 121). Mr. and Mrs. Morland happily consent,and by way of financial support, Mr. Morland promises to give his ownliving, worth four hundred pounds a year, in a few years to James, assoon as he is old enough. When Isabella hints that this is insufficient(“every body has their failing, you know, and everybody has right todo what they like with their own money”), Catherine is somewhat hurt83

(NA, p. 138). Isabella cools Catherine out by appealing to her penetration:“Ah! my Catherine, you have found me out. There’s thesting. The long, long, endless two years and half that are to pass beforeyour brother can hold the living.” This ploy works and “Catherine’suncomfortable feelings began to lessen. She endeavoured to believethat the delay of the marriage was the only source of Isabella’s regret”(NA, p. 139). In the end, Isabella is instructive for showing how strategicmanipulation can degenerate into the ludicrous. The engagementis broken off because Isabella openly flirts with and even plans to beengaged to Eleanor’s other brother Captain Tilney. But after CaptainTilney doesn’t work out, Isabella writes Catherine asking after James,saying that “I . . . am afraid he took something in my conduct amiss.”Catherine’s judgment is finally unequivocal: “Such a strain of shallowartifice could not impose even upon Catherine. Its inconsistencies,contradictions, and falsehood, struck her from the very first. . . . Herprofessions of attachment were now as disgusting as her excuses wereempty” (NA, pp. 223–224).Catherine learns more from Henry Tilney, who is around twentyfive.Henry knows all too well the importance of knowing the minds ofothers. When they first meet, Henry jokingly but repeatedly asks whatCatherine is thinking: he asks what she will write in her journal abouttheir first meeting, and even asks directly, “What are you thinkingof so earnestly?” Catherine thinks “that he indulged himself a littletoo much with the foibles of others” (NA, p. 21). During their seconddance a few days later, Henry remarks that matrimony and dancing arestrategically similar and indeed can be represented by the same gametree: “in both, man has the advantage of choice, woman only the powerof refusal” (NA, p. 74). One might say that “Henry’s clever chastecomparison of marriage to a country dance reflects the novel’s sassysexlessness” (Brownstein 1997, p. 38), but right now Henry is concernedwith the strategic dimension. Henry humorously notes that dancingand marriage are both contracts (“when once entered into, they belongexclusively to each other till the moment of its dissolution”), and whenhe asks whether Catherine will again interrupt their dance by talkingwith John Thorpe or anyone else, Catherine, properly prodded into84

a strategic mindset, does not reply in terms of etiquette or proprietybut in terms of feasibility: “there are hardly three young men in theroom besides him, that I have any acquaintance with” (NA, pp. 74, 75).Henry is only satisfied, however, when Catherine replies in terms ofpreferences: “I do not want to talk to any body” (NA, p. 76). Later, whenCatherine ascribes Captain Tilney’s wish to dance with Isabella to goodnature, Henry replies in theoretical terms: “How very little trouble itcan give you to understand the motive of other people’s actions. . . .With you, it is not, How is such a one likely to be influenced? What isthe inducement most likely to act upon such a person’s feelings, age,situation, and probable habits of life considered?—but, how should I beinfluenced, what would be my inducement in acting so and so?” (NA,pp. 134–135). As a general statement about the tendency to supposeothers’ preferences as similar to your own, and the need to insteadacknowledge that they can be quite different, Henry could not be moreexplicit.Novels also play a role in Catherine’s training: “from fifteen toseventeen she was in training for a heroine; she read all such worksas heroines must read” (NA, p. 7). The strategically minded IsabellaThorpe and Henry Tilney, as well as Eleanor Tilney, are also accordinglynovel readers, but the less fanciful Mrs. Morland, Catherine’s mother,does not keep up with the newest ones and the strategic imbecile JohnThorpe declares, “Novels are all so full of nonsense and stuff” (NA,p. 43).General Tilney, Henry and Eleanor’s father, invites Catherine toreturn with them to their home at Northanger Abbey. In this newsetting, Catherine is quick to use the strategic skills she learned in Bath:when she receives the letter from her brother James saying that hisengagement to Isabella is off, she does not mention it directly to Henryand Eleanor, since it concerns their brother Captain Tilney. Instead,“she might just give an idea—just distantly hint at it” (NA, p. 209). Sheasks Eleanor and Henry, “I have one favour to beg . . . that, if yourbrother should be coming here, you will give me notice of it, that Imay go away.” When Henry figures it out, Catherine, sounding a bitlike Isabella, cries “How quick you are! . . . [Y]ou have guessed it, I85

declare!—And yet, when we talked about it in Bath, you little thoughtof its ending so” (NA, p. 210). Catherine thus makes clear to Henrythat she had been right when earlier she had asked Henry to call off hisbrother for the sake of her own, and that at least in this case she hadbested her tutor in predicting the actions of others.Catherine has improved at acting and predicting but her weaknessstill is in figuring out others’ motivations, in contrast to Anne Elliot, whopreoccupies herself over others’ feelings but is slow to act. For example,General Tilney says that he is tempted to order a new set of breakfastchina, and hopes “that an opportunity might ere long occur of selectingone—though not for himself.” “Catherine was probably the only oneof the party who did not understand him,” and only somewhat laterdoes she finally figure out that the General hopes that she and Henrywill wed (NA, p. 179). What speculative capacities Catherine has arevery much overinfluenced by the romantic novels she has read. GeneralTilney seems anxious that Eleanor not show Catherine the roomwhere her mother died, and according to Eleanor, Mrs. Tilney’s portraitis hung in her own bed-chamber and not in the drawing room becauseGeneral Tilney was not satisfied with it. Catherine quickly suspectsGeneral Tilney of having imprisoned his poor wife in hidden regionsof the abbey. Henry, having read the same novels, with “his quick eyefixed on hers,” quickly understands her suspicions, and admonishes,“Remember that we are English, that we are Christians. Consult yourown understanding, your own sense of the probable, your own observationof what is passing around you—Does our education prepareus for such atrocities? Do our laws connive at them? Could they beperpetrated without being known, in a country like this, where socialand literary intercourse is on such a footing; where every man is surroundedby a neighbourhood of voluntary spies, and where roads andnewspapers lay every thing open?” (NA, p. 203) Henry’s argument isnot that his father or the English or Christians have fine moral character,but simply that a person who would do such a thing would get caught.Henry is telling Catherine that she still has to work on her strategicreasoning.86

General Tilney leaves for London for a week, and Catherine,Eleanor, and Henry are happy to be free from the demands of his presence:“His departure gave Catherine the first experimental convictionthat a loss may be sometimes a gain” (NA, p. 227). Learning from peersor novels is fine, but the best lessons are real-world “experimental” ones(Knox-Shaw (2004, pp. 17, 21) argues that Austen’s “empirical habit ofmind” is due to her early exposure to the sciences). When GeneralTilney returns, however, he immediately orders Catherine sent home,to Eleanor’s horror (Henry is not present, having left for a few days tohis curate at Woodston). When Eleanor comes to tell Catherine of herexpulsion, Catherine, chastened by her earlier error into restraining herfancy and “always judging and acting in future with the greatest goodsense” (NA, p. 206), errs in the other direction, underestimating theGeneral’s rudeness, until Eleanor mortifyingly reveals that Catherinewill be sent away unaccompanied by a servant and at a time not of herchoosing. The excuse is that General Tilney had recalled a previousengagement, a ploy as crude as John Thorpe’s earlier.Catherine returns home safely, and although the Morland familyacknowledges the General’s ill-treatment of their daughter, “[w]hy hehad done it, what . . . so suddenly turned all his partial regard fortheir daughter into actual ill-will . . . did not oppress them by anymeans so long” (NA, p. 242). Mrs. Morland calls the whole thinga learning experience: “Catherine is safe at home, and our comfortdoes not depend upon General Tilney. . . . It is always good for youngpeople to be put upon exerting themselves; and you know, my dearCatherine, you always were a sad little scatter-brained creature; butnow you must have been forced to have your wits about you” (NA,p. 243). Speaking to Mrs. Allen, Mrs. Morland adds, “it is a greatcomfort to find that she is not a poor helpless creature, but can shiftvery well for herself” (NA, p. 246). Mrs. Morland is referring only toCatherine’s unaccompanied carriage ride home, but her remark moreproperly describes all Catherine has learned in Bath and Northangersince leaving home.Still, Catherine wonders if she will ever see Henry again, andMrs. Morland, who is generally not good at understanding Catherine’s87

feelings, attributes her langour to her missing her grand Northangerlifestyle. But when Henry appears, saying that he wanted to makesure that Catherine made it home safely, Mrs. Morland notices Catherine’s“glowing cheek and brightened eye” and is savvy enough to allowCatherine to show him the way to the Allens’ house (NA, p. 251). Walkingtogether, Henry proposes and Catherine accepts. Henry explainsthat General Tilney had invited Catherine to Northanger thinking thatshe was the heiress of the wealthy and childless Allens, because JohnThorpe, who had gotten the idea into his mind and was hoping to marryCatherine himself, told him so at Bath. When the General was awayat London, he met with John Thorpe again, who, “under the influenceof exactly opposite feelings, irritated by Catherine’s refusal, and yetmore by the failure of a very recent endeavour to accomplish a reconciliationbetween Morland and Isabella,” told him this time that theMorlands were “a necessitous family . . . a forward, bragging, schemingrace” (NA, pp. 255–256). Under the influence of her novels, Catherinehad been only partly wrong: “in suspecting General Tilney of eithermurdering or shutting up his wife, she had scarcely sinned against hischaracter, or magnified his cruelty” (NA, p. 256). Of course, Henryhas not obtained his father’s consent to the marriage, and Catherinehas learned enough to appreciate Henry’s strategicness in proposingto her first: she “could not but rejoice in the kind caution with whichHenry had saved her from the necessity of a conscientious rejection, byengaging her faith before he mentioned the subject” (NA, p. 253). Butafter Eleanor marries well, General Tilney finally consents.More than Austen’s other heroines, Catherine knows what shewants and takes steps, right from the start, to get it. She goes afterHenry without worrying much about whether he loves her. Catherinecould be better at understanding the motives of others, but this doesnot stop her from making plans and pursuing him.Catherine receives lots of help. The Allens are most useful: theytake her to Bath in the first place, they give Catherine false consequencein the minds of John Thorpe and hence General Tilney, and at the endthey provide a ready excuse for Henry and Catherine to walk alonetogether. But little of this is intentional, and in fact Mrs. Allen is sadly88

lacking in strategic skills. When she takes Catherine to her first dance atBath, “Mrs. Allen did all that she could do in such a case by saying veryplacidly, every now and then, ‘I wish you could dance, my dear,—I wishyou could get a partner.’ For some time her young friend felt obligedto her for these wishes; but they were repeated so often, and proved sototally ineffectual” (NA, p. 14). Mr. Allen, a “sensible, intelligent man,”is better, ascertaining that Elizabeth’s dance partner Henry Tilney is “aclergyman, and of a very respectable family in Gloucestershire” (NA,pp. 12, 22) . General Tilney, like Lady Catherine, is unintentionallyinstrumental: “the General’s unjust interference, so far from beingreally injurious to their felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it,by improving their knowledge of each other, and adding strength totheir attachment” (NA, p. 261). Behind General Tilney’s actions arethe oscillating exaggerations of John Thorpe, who was also angling tomarry into money. As in the Brer Rabbit tale, others’ mistaken schemescan be your best opportunities.Catherine’s younger sister Sarah is sixteen and curious about thestrategic world. Upon Catherine’s return, she wonders about GeneralTilney: “I can allow for his wishing Catherine away, when he recollectedthis engagement . . . but why not do it civilly?” But this is the Morlandfamily, not the Thorpe family, and Mrs. Morland replies, “My dear, yougive yourself a great deal of needless trouble . . . depend upon it, it issomething not at all worth understanding” (NA, p. 243). When HenryTilney asks Catherine to show him the way to the Allens’ house, Sarah,trying to be helpful, chirps, “You may see the house from this window,sir,” and receives a “silencing nod” from Mrs. Morland (NA, p. 252).Sarah has yet to read novels and take her own course at Bath.Mansfield ParkIn Mansfield Park, Fanny Price’s strategic development is distilledinto just two crucial decisions. The first is whether to join her cousinsand their friends in acting in a play at their home, despite her belief thatthe head of the family, her uncle Sir Thomas Bertram, would surely disapprove.The second is whether to accept Henry Crawford’s proposal89

of marriage. The first decision is not important in itself, but Fannyagonizes over it and steadfastly refuses. Fanny exercises her power ofchoice and thus this first refusal is a rehearsal for her second refusal,which dumbfounds everyone, given Henry’s wealth and agreeablenessand Fanny’s financial and, seemingly, intellectual dependence. Inneither case is Fanny’s steadfastness infinite; in the end Fanny agreesto read a part in the play, and Henry would have succeeded had hebeen even more persistent. But Fanny, raised from childhood to besubservient, unconfident, and voiceless in her own household, learnsto make her own decisions with admirable, and in the end fruitful,resolve. Fanny is introduced to strategic thinking by the antics of theyoung people around her. She never becomes a strategist at even thebasic level of Catherine Morland, but she does not need to. Sometimesyou don’t have to be good at reading others’ minds or thinking a fewmoves ahead; you just have to make good choices.Fanny’s development is traced from the age of ten. Fanny’s aunts,Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris, take pity on their relatively impoverishedsister Mrs. Price, who has a ninth child on the way, and offer toraise Fanny, Mrs. Price’s eldest daughter. Fanny arrives at MansfieldPark, home of Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram, and their two sons, Tomand Edmund, ages 17 and 16, and two daughters, Maria and Julia, ages13 and 12. Displaced and despondent, Fanny is received by a householdconcerned with specifying her feelings. Sir Thomas stresses howcrucial it is “to preserve in the minds of my daughters the consciousnessof what they are, without making them think too lowly of their cousin;and how, without depressing her spirits too far, to make her rememberthat she is not a Miss Bertram” (MP, p. 12). Mrs. Norris is occupied withwhat Fanny should feel as opposed to what she does feel. “Mrs. Norrishad been talking to her the whole way from Northampton of herwonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary degree of gratitude andgood behaviour which it ought to produce, and her consciousness ofmisery was therefore increased by the idea of its being a wicked thingfor her not to be happy” (MP, p. 14). The exception in the householdis Edmund, who sees Fanny crying on the stairs. Edmund finds thatFanny misses her family but especially her brother William; Edmund90

helps her write a letter to him, and “[f]rom this day Fanny grew morecomfortable. She felt that she had a friend” (MP, p. 19). True kindness,and even basic sociality, requires understanding a person’s wants. Edmundis “always true to her interests, and considerate of her feelings”(MP, p. 24).Edmund’s thoughtfulness extends to strategic reasoning. WhenFanny is sixteen, her grey pony dies and a replacement is not thoughtnecessary. Mrs. Norris warns that Sir Thomas would not approve theadditional expense and thinks it “absolutely unnecessary, and evenimproper, that Fanny should have a regular lady’s horse of her own inthe style of her cousins” (MP, p. 42). Edmund thus finds a “method ofproceeding which would obviate the risk of his father’s thinking he haddone too much, and at the same time procure for Fanny the immediatemeans of exercise,” by trading one of his three horses for a mare suitablefor Fanny (MP, p. 42). Edmund is Fanny’s tutor: “he recommended thebooks which charmed her leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, andcorrected her judgment” (MP, p. 25).Dr. and Mrs. Grant reside at the parsonage and Mrs. Grant’s halfsiblingsHenry and Mary Crawford visit. Mary is interested in learninghow to ride a horse, and Edmund offers to teach her on Fanny’smare. Mary learns so quickly that one suspects she already knowshow: “Where people wish to attach, they should always be ignorant. . .. A woman especially, if she have the misfortune of knowing any thing,should conceal it as well as she can” (NA, p. 112). Fanny, watchingEdmund and Mary together, “felt a pang. . . . [I]f she were forgotten thepoor mare should be remembered,” and indeed, for all excepting Edmund,Fanny does not rank far above an animal in consideration (MP,p. 79). When Fanny feels ill and retreats to the sofa, having worked forhours in the sun cutting and delivering roses for her aunts, Edmundrealizes his neglect of her. “[S]he had been left four days togetherwithout any choice of companions or exercise, and without any excusefor avoiding whatever her unreasonable aunts might require,” and Edmund“very seriously resolved . . . that it should never happen again”(MP, p. 87). Thus Fanny happens upon the technique which MarianneDashwood successfully used to draw in Willoughby’s repentance.91

Maria, now twenty-one, is engaged to the wealthy but stupidMr. Rushworth, and they await Sir Thomas’s return from Antigua toget married. When Mr. Rushworth talks at length about improving hisfamily’s estate, Sotherton, Mrs. Norris suggests that they should all visitto suggest improvements. Since Lady Bertram is not going, Mrs. Norrisinsists that Fanny remain to keep her company, but when Edmundoffers to remain at home instead so that Fanny can go, Mrs. Norris saysthat she had told Mrs. Rushworth, Mr. Rushworth’s mother, that Fannywould not be coming. Edmund, anticipating this objection, had alreadysecured Mrs. Rushworth’s invitation for Fanny and thus Mrs. Norrisis foiled. Mrs. Grant, who earlier suggested to her brother Henry thathe might marry Julia Bertram, knows her sister Mary has parallel aimsand thus offers to remain with Lady Bertram so that Edmund can goafter all; Mrs. Norris’s original scheme is thus twice amended withthe schemes of others. Henry and Mary Crawford, Edmund, Maria,and Julia, Mrs. Norris, and finally Fanny set off for Sotherton, withMrs. Grant offering Julia the seat next to Henry, leaving Maria “ingloom and mortification” (MP, p. 94).At Sotherton, Fanny, Edmund, and Mary Crawford walk thegrounds and sit together on a bench near an iron gate to rest. MaryCrawford wants to start moving again, and although Fanny feels fullyrested also, Edmund entreats her to rest some more, saying that he andMary will be back in a few minutes. Fanny waits alone for twenty minutesuntil Mr. Rushworth, Maria, and Henry show up. The iron gate islocked but Maria still wishes to go through it, and thus Mr. Rushworthis compelled to go back to the house to get the key. In his absence, Mariaand Henry go around the gate, again leaving Fanny behind. Now Juliaarrives, having finally managed to shake off Mrs. Rushworth, andspeeds off toward her sister and Henry. When Mr. Rushworth arriveswith the key, Fanny has to say that Maria and Henry proceeded withouthim. Fanny offers, “Miss Bertram thought you would follow her” butthis is not enough to make the upset Mr. Rushworth get up from thebench (MP, p. 119). Mr. Rushworth walks up to the gate and “Fannythought she discerned in his standing there, an indication of relenting”(MP, p. 119). Thus she appeals to his status as the decider: “It is a92

pity you should not join them. They expected to have a better view ofthe house from that part of the park, and will be thinking how it maybe improved; and nothing of that sort, you know, can be settled withoutyou” (MP, p. 120). This second attempt succeeds: Mr. Rushworthreplies (demonstrating the “sunk-cost fallacy”), “if you really think Ihad better go; it would be foolish to bring the key for nothing” (MP,p. 120).This is the first time Fanny purposefully takes an action to influencethe action of another, based on her understanding of their mental state.It is so mild as to be almost nothing and has no objective greater thansimple consideration for Mr. Rushworth, but it is still a step in learningstrategic reasoning: “Mr. Rushworth was worked on” (MP, p. 120).Fanny, passive on the bench, twice observes how couples manage todrop their third. Back at Mansfield Park, Fanny tries out what shehas learned. As Fanny, Edmund, and Mary Crawford talk togetherat the window, the Miss Bertrams invite Mary to come accompanytheir singing. Fanny, now alone with Edmund, rhapsodizes aboutthe night’s beauty, and suggests, “I wish I could see Cassiopeia” (MP,p. 132). As Knox-Shaw (2002, p. 45) observes, “visible at Mansfield Parkonly from the garden lawn, as Fanny at her window well knows, thehidden constellation provides just the pretext for drawing Edmund outof the gravitational field of Mary Crawford.” It almost works: Edmundsuggests going out to the lawn to see the stars together, but is divertedby the music, and Fanny “sighed alone at the window” (MP, p. 133).Tom Bertram had gone abroad with Sir Thomas but returns homefirst, and suggests that Mansfield put on a play. Edmund and Fanny arecertain that Sir Thomas would disallow it if he were home, but Tom andthe others are undeterred, and after endless discussion choose “Lovers’Vows.” As to the casting, when Tom’s friend Mr. Yates offers to play eitherBaron Wildenhaim or Frederick, and Henry Crawford also doesn’tmind playing either role, Maria notes that as the tallest, Mr. Yates wouldbe best as the Baron. Thus “she was certain of the proper Frederick”(MP, p. 156). Henry Crawford reciprocates by arguing that Maria, notJulia, would be best as Agatha, who shares several scenes with Frederick.Julia “saw a glance at Maria which confirmed the injury to herself;93

it was a scheme—a trick; she was slighted, Maria was preferred; thesmile of triumph which Maria was trying to suppress shewed howwell it was understood” (MP, p. 157). Henry suggests that Julia shouldplay Amelia, but Tom insists that Mary Crawford would be best forAmelia. Fanny observes all this thrusting and counter-thrusting andJulia storms out of the room, refusing to take part.Two roles are yet uncast: Anhalt and Cottager’s wife. Anhalt playsopposite Amelia, and Mary Crawford hopefully calls out, “What gentlemanamong you am I to have the pleasure of making love to?” (MP,p. 169). Mary goes as far as explicitly suggesting Edmund, since Anhaltis a clergyman and Edmund will himself soon take orders. Cottager’swife, which Mr. Yates calls “the most trivial, paltry, insignificant part,”falls to Fanny (MP, p. 158). Tom Bertram does not ask as much as command:“Fanny . . . we want your services. . . . You must be Cottager’swife” (MP, pp. 170–171). The others press in on Fanny: “the requisitionwas now backed by Maria and Mr. Crawford, and Mr. Yates, withan urgency which differed from his, but in being more gentle or moreceremonious, and which altogether was quite overpowering to Fanny”(MP, p. 172). Mrs. Norris horrifically declares, “I shall think her a veryobstinate, ungrateful girl, if she does not do what her aunt and cousinswish her—very ungrateful indeed, considering who and what she is”(MP, p. 172).Fanny goes to bed, “her nerves still agitated by the shock of suchan attack from her cousin Tom, so public and so persevered in, andher spirits sinking under her aunt’s unkind reflection and reproach.To be called into notice in such a manner . . . and then to have thecharge of obstinacy and ingratitude follow it, enforced with such ahint at the dependence of her situation. . . . [W]hat should she do?”(MP, p. 176). In the morning she goes to the East room, which wasonce the family school-room, where Fanny and the Miss Bertrams hadtaken lessons as young children. Abandoned by the Miss Bertrams, itseducative function remains for Fanny, as the decision she makes thereabout whether to join the play is an important step in her strategicdevelopment. She takes her first step away from pliability and ductility,but if anything she is too reflective and self-critical. She thinks about94

it from several points of view: “Was she right in refusing what wasso warmly asked, so strongly wished for? What might be so essentialto a scheme on which some of those to whom she owed the greatestcomplaisance, had set their hearts? Was it not ill-nature—selfishness—and a fear of exposing herself? And would Edmund’s judgment, wouldhis persuasion of Sir Thomas’s disapprobation of the whole, be enoughto justify her in a determined denial in spite of all the rest?” (MP, p. 179).Edmund interrupts Fanny’s deliberations, asking for help witha decision of his own. The company is on the verge of inviting acomplete outsider to play Anhalt, and Edmund feels that he must playthe part instead to prevent a stranger from gaining rapid intimacywith their family and further exposing their folly. Edmund also asksFanny to think how Mary Crawford would feel to play Amelia with astranger. Edmund implores, “Give me your approbation, then, Fanny.I am not comfortable without it,” but even he doesn’t allow Fannyto fully respond, as his decision is already made. When Fanny doesnot immediately approve, Edmund states, “I thought you would haveentered more into Miss Crawford’s feelings” (MP, p. 182). What pointis there in Fanny’s careful self-reflection when her reference and guideis so befuddled? “Could it be possible? Edmund so inconsistent. Washe not deceiving himself? Was he not wrong? Alas! it was all MissCrawford’s doing. She had seen her influence in every speech, and wasmiserable” (MP, p. 183–184). All carefulness and consistency can bendto the prospect of simulated love-making (which Fanny later is forcedto witness, unbearably), even for someone like Edmund.Fanny has from the age of ten relied so completely on Edmund thatit can be said that he “formed her mind” (MP, p. 76). But Fanny beginsto wonder about his judgment when Mary Crawford arrives: “therebegan now to be some danger of dissimilarity, for he was in a lineof admiration of Miss Crawford, which might lead him where Fannycould not follow” (MP, p. 76). When she hints to Edmund that HenryCrawford seems to admire the engaged Maria more than Julia, Edmundthinks there is nothing to be concerned about and Fanny takes this aswisdom; she “supposed she must have been mistaken, and meant tothink differently in future.” But her own eyes tell her different: with95

“all the help of the coinciding looks and hints which she occasionallynoticed in some of the others, and which seemed to say that Julia wasMr. Crawford’s choice, she knew not always what to think” (MP, p. 137).When the idea of a play is first brought up, Fanny hopes that the groupwill have great difficulty finding a play acceptable to all; Edmund isless optimistic, but indeed it takes days for the group to agree and“Fanny seemed nearer being right than Edmund had supposed” (MP,p. 153). Edmund’s choice to act in the play is final proof of his fallibility.Edmund is the pliable one, not Fanny. Like Anne Elliot who realizesthe limitations of her guardian Lady Russell, Fanny must learn to trusther own judgment. Like Catherine Morland who gains resolve afterlearning that John Thorpe tried to trick her into riding with him, Fannymore strongly believes in making her own decisions and more stronglydistrusts the influence of others.Upon their first full rehearsal, Mrs. Grant, who has taken the role ofCottager’s wife, has to stay at home with her husband and thus Fanny isasked to read the part in her place: “as they all persevered—as Edmundrepeated his wish, and with a look of even fond dependence on her goodnature, she must yield” (MP, p. 201). But at that moment Sir Thomasreturns home, and all plans for the play are scuttled. When Edmundexplains what happened, he affirms that “Fanny is the only one whohas judged rightly throughout, who has been consistent” (MP, p. 219).Henry Crawford leaves despite Maria’s hope that he would propose,saving her from Mr. Rushworth, as soon as Sir Thomas returned. SirThomas cannot help but notice Mr. Rushworth’s ignorance and Maria’sdislike, and asks Maria if she really wants to marry him. Maria, furiousat Henry’s departure, wants to go through with it. The marriage takesplace and Julia goes to live with the new couple, leaving Fanny the onlyyoung woman at Mansfield.Fanny, who is previously not “out,” now goes through the ritualsaccompanying the transition to womanhood. For the first time she isinvited to the parsonage by Mrs. Grant for dinner (before she dined outonly along with her aunt and uncle), a dinner at which Henry Crawfordunexpectedly shows up. Challenged by Fanny’s coldness, Henry tellshis sister Mary that he aims to make Fanny fall in love with him while96

he is visiting for just a fortnight: “I will not do her any harm, dearlittle soul! I only want her to look kindly on me, to give me smiles aswell as blushes” (MP, p. 269). But when her brother William receivesleave from the Navy and visits Mansfield, Henry is struck by Fanny’swarmth toward her brother and decides to extend his stay. Sir Thomasnotices Henry’s interest in Fanny and organizes a ball for her; whenFanny discovers that she is to open the ball, “She could hardly believeit. To be placed above so many elegant young women! The distinctionwas too great. It was treating her like her cousins!” (MP, p. 320). Soonafterward Henry decides to propose to Fanny. By working throughhis uncle Admiral Crawford, Henry secures William’s promotion toSecond Lieutenant and thus appeals to Fanny’s gratitude.When Fanny refuses, Henry appeals to Sir Thomas, who in turnlectures Fanny using arguments often made against rational choice: socialembeddedness (“His sister, moreover, is your intimate friend, andhe has been doing that for your brother, which I should suppose wouldhave been almost sufficient recommendation to you”), undefined preferences(“I am half inclined to think, Fanny, that you do not quiteknow your own feelings”), excessive individuality (“The advantageor disadvantage of your family—of your parents—your brothers andsisters—never seems to have had a moment’s share in your thoughts onthis occasion. . . . You think only of yourself”), regret avoidance (“youmay live eighteen years longer in the world, without being addressedby a man of half Mr. Crawford’s estate, or a tenth part of his merits”),and duty (“had either of my daughters, on receiving a proposal of marriageat any time, which might carry with it only half the eligibility ofthis, immediately and peremptorily, and without paying my opinion ormy regard the compliment of any consultation, put a decided negativeon it. . . . I should have thought it a gross violation of duty and respect”)(MP, pp. 364, 365, 367, 368, 368). Lady Bertram also appeals to duty (“itis every young woman’s duty to accept such a very unexceptionableoffer as this”) and Mary Crawford appeals to social distinction (“wereI to attempt to tell you of all the women whom I have known to bein love with him, I should never have done. . . . I am sure it is notin woman’s nature to refuse such a triumph”) (MP, pp. 384, 417–419).97

Against all of these other models of human behavior, Fanny maintainsthat it is simply her choice: “I—I cannot like him, sir, well enough tomarry him” (MP, p. 364). Fanny doesn’t like Henry’s character, buther decision is not a moral decision. Fanny just does not like him (itwould be more convincingly a moral decision if she rejected him forhis transgressions despite liking him).Why don’t people think of Fanny as making a choice? Fannyrefusing Henry would require a personhood and preferences that noone thinks she has. Fanny has never been allowed to choose in thepast; why should she start now? Fanny’s seeming inability to makeindependent choices is in fact what Henry falls in love with, when hesees Fanny helping Lady Bertram “with such unpretending gentleness,so much as if it were a matter of course that she was not to have amoment at her own command” (MP, p. 343). Henry has preferencesenough for the both of them: “He had vanity, which strongly inclinedhim, in the first place, to think she did love him, though she might notknow it herself” and is “determined . . . to have the glory, as well as thefelicity, of forcing her to love him” (MP, p. 376). Henry’s sister Marythinks not of Fanny’s preferences but her disposition and heart: “Thegentleness and gratitude of her disposition would secure her all yourown immediately. . . . [A]sk her to love you, and she will never havethe heart to refuse” (MP, p. 340). Even Edmund, a formerly staunchadvocate for Fanny’s right to choose, presumes to know how Fannyfeels: “I cannot suppose that you have not the wish to love him—thenatural wish of gratitude. You must have some feeling of that sort.You must be sorry for your own indifference” (MP, p. 402). WhenFanny cries, “Oh! never, never, never; he never will succeed with me,”Edmund thinks he knows Fanny better than she knows herself andscolds, “Never, Fanny, so very determined and positive! This is notlike yourself, your rational self” (MP, p. 402).Another reason why no one thinks Fanny has her own preferencesis that she does not tell anyone she has any. When Sir Thomas toucheson the topic of whether Fanny’s affections lay elsewhere, Fanny’s “facewas like scarlet. That, however, in so modest a girl, might be verycompatible with innocence; and chusing at least to appear satisfied,98

he quickly added, ‘No, no, I know that is quite out of the question—quite impossible’ ” (MP, p. 365). She dare not tell anyone her love forEdmund. She cannot tell Sir Thomas that her contempt for Henry stemsfrom his reprehensibly superficial overtures toward Maria and Julia, inwhich they eagerly participated. When Fanny does try to tell him thatshe simply does not like Henry, it doesn’t work at all: “She had hopedthat to a man like her uncle, so discerning, so honourable, so good, thesimple acknowledgment of settled dislike on her side, would have beensufficient. To her infinite grief she found it was not” (MP, pp. 366–367).When Fanny tries to bring up Henry’s treatment of Maria and Julia,both Mary Crawford and Edmund are willing to excuse Henry at thesisters’ expense. Mary owns, “He has now and then been a sad flirt,and cared very little for the havock he might be making in young ladies’affections. I have often scolded him for it, but it is his only fault; andthere is this to be said, that very few young ladies have any affectionsworth caring for” (MP, p. 419). Edmund says that his sisters might “bemore desirous of being admired by Crawford, and might shew thatdesire rather more unguardedly than was perfectly prudent. . . . [W]ithsuch encouragement, a man like Crawford, lively, and it may be a littleunthinking, might be led on” (MP, p. 405).Sir Thomas worries about Henry’s patience running out and decidesto speed up Fanny’s reconsideration by sending her back tovisit her parents in Portsmouth. Sure enough, her family’s noisyand crowded living conditions, with three noisy young boys and twodaughters still at home, heighten the salience of Mansfield’s comfortsand the similar life which Henry’s wealth would provide.In Portsmouth, Fanny’s fourteen-year-old sister Susan seemsaware that the house is not managed well, and Fanny endeavors tohelp her. “Susan, she found, looked up to her and wished for her goodopinion; and new as any thing like an office of authority was to Fanny,new as it was to imagine herself capable of guiding or informing anyone, she did resolve to give occasional hints to Susan, and endeavourto exercise for her advantage the juster notions of what was due toevery body, and what would be wisest for herself, which her own morefavoured education had fixed in her” (MP, p. 459). As explained earlier,99

Susan has been quarreling with Betsey, who is five years old, about asilver knife which their sister Mary gave to Susan before her death; itis Susan’s but Betsey does not want to give it up. Fanny purchases anew knife for Betsey, who prefers the newer object, as Fanny predicts,and thus gives the original knife back to Susan. “The deed thoroughlyanswered; a source of domestic altercation was entirely done away,and it was the means of opening Susan’s heart to her, and giving hersomething more to love and be interested in” (MP, pp. 459–460). This isFanny’s first successful nontrivial strategic manipulation, another partof her favoured education at Mansfield, and strategic thinking bothinitiates the bond between them and provides a shared interest.In her new role as teacher, Fanny is surprised that Susan hasmuch good sense, given that she “had no cousin Edmund to directher thoughts or fix her principles” (MP, p. 460). She is to Susan whatEdmund was to her; Fanny purchases a subscription to a circulatinglibrary and “longed to give her a share in her own first pleasures, andinspire a taste for the biography and poetry which she delighted in herself”(MP, p. 461). The one positive aspect of marrying Henry Crawfordwhich Fanny is willing to think about is the possibility of Susan livingwith them and thereby improving, because she worries what will happento Susan when she leaves:“That a girl so capable of being madeeverything good, should be left in such hands, distressed her more andmore. Were she likely to have a home to invite her to, what a blessingit would be!—And had it been possible for her to return Mr. Crawford’sregard, the probability of his being very far from objecting tosuch a measure, would have been the greatest increase of all her owncomforts” (MP, p. 486). Developing the minds of young women is soimportant to Fanny that she is willing to contemplate what she desiresleast.Tom Bertram falls ill, and declines enough so that Mary Crawfordbegins to consider that Edmund, as heir to Mansfield Park, wouldmake a more worthy husband than he would as a clergyman. Thegreater scandal, however, is that Henry Crawford and Maria, nowMrs. Rushworth, have run off together. Edmund is stunned that MaryCrawford sees her brother’s action “only as folly, and that folly stamped100

only by exposure. . . . Oh! Fanny, it was the detection, not the offencewhich she reprobated” (MP, p. 526). Edmund is sorrowful but Fannyis happy that at long last, “Edmund was no longer the dupe of MissCrawford” (MP, p. 533).In his infatuation with Mary Crawford, Edmund forgets one ofthe first precepts of strategic thinking: a person’s motivations are oftendifferent from what you think they are or should be. After his final conversationwith Mary, Edmund concludes that “all this together mostgrievously convinced me that I had never understood her before, andthat, as far as related to mind, it had been the creature of my ownimagination, not Miss Crawford, that I had been too apt to dwell on formany months past” (MP, p. 530). His family’s reputation ruined, SirThomas also reflects upon the same mistake: “Bitterly did he deplorea deficiency which now he could scarcely comprehend to have beenpossible. . . . [H]e had brought up his daughters, without . . . being acquaintedwith their character and temper” (MP, p. 536). Mr. Rushworthupon marrying Maria did not make this mistake (“She had despisedhim, and loved another—and he had been very much aware that it wasso”); Mr. Rushworth is not clever enough to be wrong (MP, p. 537).Similarly, Mary Crawford does not understand Edmund’s motivations,the seriousness of his commitment to becoming a clergyman.Mary’s first mistake, making fun of the clergy before knowing Edmund’splan to join it, was an error of information (“Fanny pitied her.‘How distressed she will be at what she said just now,’ passed acrossher mind” (MP, p. 104)). But Mary’s persistence in believing him “fit forsomething better,” even after talking with him at length, is an error ofunderstanding (MP, p. 109). To Mary, Edmund’s motivations are whatshe thinks and hopes they are, not what they truly are. If Mary had understoodEdmund’s commitment, she would not have tried to intimatethat her acceptance of his proposal was dependent on his career choice,and she would have known that he would find this intimation particularlyrepulsive. Henry Crawford’s mistake when flirting with the newMrs. Rushworth was underestimating the strength of Maria’s feelings:he had only meant to feed his own vanity but “he had put himself in101

the power of feelings on her side more strong than he had supposed.—She loved him; there was no withdrawing attentions, avowedly dearto her” (MP, p. 541).Fanny is basically right about everyone else, and everyone else iswrong about Fanny. This is because Fanny is quiet, a good listener.During play rehearsals, “Fanny, being always a very courteous listener,and often the only listener at hand, came in for the complaints and thedistresses of most of them” (MP, p. 192). When Fanny returns to MansfieldPark after Maria has run off with Henry Crawford, she supportsLady Bertram simply by listening: “To talk over the dreadful businesswith Fanny, talk and lament, was all Lady Bertram’s consolation. To belistened to and borne with, and hear the voice of kindness and sympathyin return, was every thing that could be done for her” (MP, p. 519).Listening skills can even make someone fall in love with you; HenryCrawford declares, “I could so wholly and absolutely confide in her . .. and that is what I want” (MP, p. 341).Everyone talks to Fanny in comfort and confidence because they donot expect Fanny to do anything. Appearing passive has its advantages.It is true that Fanny never seems to do anything to advance her goalof securing Edmund’s heart, perhaps because she regards it as outof reach. But this underestimates the power of active listening, ofactive agreeing. From early on, Fanny, a “kind, kind listener,” stronglyagrees with Edmund about the flaws in Mary Crawford’s character, andstrongly agrees that they are the result of poor upbringing, “[t]he effectof education” (MP, p. 312). When Mary fails to condemn her brotherfor running off with Maria, and especially after Fanny tells Edmundthat Mary’s interest in him was increased by Tom’s illness, Fanny andEdmund “thought exactly the same; and they were also quite agreed intheir opinion of the lasting effect, the indelible impression, which sucha disappointment must make on his mind” (MP, pp. 531–532). Fannystrongly agrees that it is impossible that he will ever meet anotherwoman who can ease his mind and that “Fanny’s friendship was allthat he had to cling to” (MP, p. 532). The situation is not all that differentfrom Lucy Steele’s taking in of Robert Ferrars by listening at length, inrepeated visits, to his argument that she cannot marry Edward Ferrars,102

or Charlotte Lucas, “whose civility in listening to him, was a seasonablerelief to them all” and receives Mr. Collins’s proposal by tending to hisrejection by Elizabeth Bennet (PP, p. 129). Fanny is more than happyto provide talk therapy to Edmund in soothing locations, and “[a]fterwandering about and sitting under trees with Fanny all the summerevenings, he had so well talked his mind into submission, as to bevery tolerably cheerful again” (MP, p. 535). Edmund’s love for Fannybegan when Fanny was ten, “founded on the most endearing claimsof innocence and helplessness.” If helplessness provided the initialattraction, Edmund’s regard is “completed by every recommendationof growing worth,” now that Fanny has learned and developed somuch. “And being always with her, and always talking confidentially. . . those soft light eyes could not be very long in obtaining the preeminence”(MP, p. 544).Meek Fanny is actually the most hard-core of Austen’s heroines:only Fanny makes a decision in the face of everyone’s active opposition,without a single supporter. Maria and Henry are themselvesmost to blame for their disgrace, but Mary Crawford and Mrs. Norrisblame Fanny because she did not accept Henry’s proposal, and insome sense they are correct. “Had she accepted him as she ought,they might now have been on the point of marriage, and Henry wouldhave been too happy and too busy to want any other object” (MP,p. 527). This counterfactual is not farfetched, as even Fanny is notcompletely unpersuadable; had Henry persisted, “Fanny must havebeen his reward—and a reward very voluntarily bestowed—within areasonable period from Edmund’s marrying Mary” (MP, p. 540). HadFanny accepted Henry Crawford, the Bertram family reputation wouldhave remained intact and Edmund might have been tolerably happywith Mary. It is even probable that Fanny would have been happyas Mrs. Crawford, by focusing her energies on improving Susan. Byrefusing Henry, Fanny in the end gains her first object, but at the greatexpense, and even ruin, of the Crawfords and the Bertrams, Edmundperhaps excepted. So much for Fanny being self-sacrificing. As Fannyobserves, “We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attendto it, than any other person can be” (MP, p. 478).103

EmmaEmma Woodhouse at twenty is already the mistress of her ownhousehold at Hartfield, in the village of Highbury, where she lives withher father Mr. Woodhouse. Her female superiors have departed: hermother died years ago and her elder sister Isabella and her governessMiss Taylor have married and moved out. Emma has strategic skillsand the social position to use them. But believing too much in one’sown strategic ability has its pitfalls, which Emma learns the hard way.“The real evils, indeed, of Emma’s situation were the power of havingrather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too wellof herself. . . . The danger, however, was at present so unperceived” (E,p. 3–4). Like Brer Rabbit and Marianne Dashwood, who ascribe ill intentionsto the tar baby and Mrs. Jennings respectively, overconfidencein your ability to figure out others’ motives can lead to a solipsism justas bad as thinking that they do not have independent thoughts at all.Pride in one’s strategic skills can lead to their overextension for thepurpose of impressing others and also leaves one open to manipulationthrough flattery. Too much attention to the preferences of otherscan keep you from considering the preferences which are most important,your own. Emma is not a first course in strategic thinking but acorrective for those impressed by their own knowledge.Emma takes pride in her strategic ability at the very start, claimingcredit for matching Miss Taylor with her new husband Mr. Weston.Mr. George Knightley, the brother of Isabella’s husband Mr. JohnKnightley, disagrees, saying that Emma may have favored their match,but “Success supposes endeavour. . . . [Y]ou made a lucky guess; andthat is all that can be said” (E, p. 11). But Emma counters, “If I hadnot promoted Mr. Weston’s visits here, and given many little encouragements,and smoothed many little matters, it might not have cometo any thing after all” (E, p. 11-12). Mr. Woodhouse, “understandingbut in part,” is charmingly clueless in strategic matters and Emma effortlesslydirects him, taking his mind off the sadness of Miss Taylor’sdeparture by saying that it was he, not Emma herself, who arranged forthe daughter of their servant James to be Miss Taylor’s housemaid, so104

that their households would be in frequent communication (E, p. 12).In the minor matter of the placement of James’s daughter, Emma generouslygrants her father credit for what most likely originated withher own suggestion. However, for Miss Taylor’s marriage itself, in thepresence of Mr. Knightley, Emma eagerly claims responsibility. To answerMr. Knightley’s challenge to her efficacy, Emma declares that hernext match will be for the benefit of Mr. Elton, the vicar of Highbury;“it would be a shame to have him single any longer” (E, p. 12).Emma comes upon seventeen-year-old Harriet Smith, who hasbeen brought up at the nearby boarding school for girls and has noobservable parents or other relatives. Emma takes up Harriet’s improvementas her personal project, acting like Henry Crawford towardFanny Price: “She would notice her; she would improve her; she woulddetach her from her bad acquaintance, and introduce her into good society;she would form her opinions and her manners” (E, p. 23). Mostworrisome is Harriet’s closeness with the Martin family, who rents afarm from Mr. Knightley and includes two sisters as well as the unmarriedbrother Mr. Martin. Emma thinks the higher-status Mr. Eltonwould well displace the farmer Mr. Martin. Emma’s concern is notjust whether her plan will work but how it gives distinction to herselfas a strategist: “She feared it was what every body else must think ofand predict. It was not likely, however, that any body should haveequalled her in the date of the plan, as it had entered her brain duringthe very first evening of Harriet’s coming to Hartfield” (E, pp. 34–35).Even if others may have had the same idea, Emma thought of it first.Emma arranges to paint a watercolor of Harriet, with Mr. Elton presentto provide encouragement. Mr. Elton volunteers to take the finishedportrait to London to have it framed.When Harriet receives Mr. Martin’s marriage proposal by letter,she runs to Emma for advice. Emma dispassionately states, “I shallnot give you any advice, Harriet. . . . This is a point which you mustsettle with your own feelings,” only to add, “It is not a state to be safelyentered into with doubtful feelings, with half a heart” (E, p. 54, 55).Thus browbeaten, Harriet decides to refuse the proposal and Emmapowerfully agrees, saying that she is relieved because as Mrs. Robert105

Martin, Harriet would have been “confined to the society of the illiterateand vulgar” (E, p. 56). To cheer Harriet up, Emma constructs afabulous scenario of Mr. Elton’s intimacy with Harriet’s portrait: “Atthis moment, perhaps, Mr. Elton is shewing your picture to his motherand sisters, telling how much more beautiful is the original. . . . It is hiscompanion all this evening, his solace, his delight. It opens his designsto his family, it introduces you among them. . . . How cheerful, howanimated, how suspicious, how busy their imaginations all are!” (E,p. 59). For Emma, part of what makes this vision so satisfactory is thatshe and Harriet know something which others only suspect.Mr. Knightley visits Emma with news: “I have good reason tobelieve your little friend will soon hear of something to her advantage”(E, p. 62). Emma, “smiling to herself,” says that she already knows ofMr. Martin’s proposal and that it was refused (E, p. 63). Mr. Knightleyis stunned and accuses Emma of persuading Harriet, and Emma repliesthat even if she had done so, she would have been justified. Emma’sargument is not based on Harriet’s right to make her own choice (“asto the refusal itself, I will not pretend to say that I might not influenceher a little” (E, p. 68)). Emma argues that Harriet has alternatives (“isshe, at seventeen, just entering into life, just beginning to be known, tobe wondered at because she does not accept the first offer she receives?No—pray let her have time to look about her” (E, p. 67)), but her mainargument is based on social status (“The sphere in which she moves ismuch above his.—It would be a degradation. . . . [S]he associates withgentlemen’s daughters” (E, pp. 65–66)), a status which Emma herselfhas worked hard to confer. What Harriet actually wants does not enterinto the discussion. Mr. Knightley warns that Mr. Elton would neverchoose Harriet: “He knows the value of a good income as well asanybody” (E, p. 70).Mr. Elton’s wooing continues, and just as Elizabeth Bennet understandsMr. Darcy’s invitation to dance as showing contempt instead ofinterest, Emma’s strategic sophistication allows her to explain away theobvious in favor of her own preconceptions. Emma asks Mr. Elton toadd to Harriet’s collection of riddles, and when he pushes the riddle hecomposed toward Emma instead of Harriet, Emma understands this as106

Mr. Elton not caring about secrecy, because if he had intended it to besecret, he would have given it to Harriet when Emma was not present.When Mr. Elton uses the term “ready wit” in his riddle (E, p. 119),Emma concludes that only a man very much in love would use theterm to refer to not-so-quick Harriet, and wishes that she could showMr. Knightley the riddle so he would have to admit that he is mistakenabout Mr. Elton. When Harriet and Mr. Elton are invited by the Westonsto join them in a dinner with the Woodhouses and Knightleys attheir home at Randalls, Harriet is too ill to join, and Emma providesan out for Mr. Elton by saying that he looks slightly ill and should stayhome. Mr. Elton nevertheless joins the party, and Emma concludesthat he must be “very much in love with Harriet; but still, he cannotrefuse an invitation, he must dine out wherever he is asked. What astrange thing love is!” (E, p. 119). Mr. Elton treats Emma with “extremesolicitude. . . . It did appear—there was no concealing it—exactly likethe pretence of being in love with her, instead of Harriet” (E, p. 135).Returning from the party in a carriage alone together, Emma is astonishedand repulsed by Mr. Elton’s proposal. Emma accuses Mr. Eltonof having transferred his affections from Harriet, but Mr. Elton issurprised that Emma brings up Harriet at all. Mr. Elton, “very muchresolved on being seriously accepted as soon as possible,” is presumptuousin turn, saying to Emma that “I am sure you have seen and understoodme” (E, p. 140, 142) and even saying that Emma had encouragedhim. Instead of Emma providing cover for Mr. Elton’s approach towardHarriet, Harriet provided cover for Mr. Elton’s approach towardEmma.Reflecting on her folly, Emma blames Mr. Elton’s low social status:“Perhaps it was not fair to expect him to feel how very much he washer inferior in talent, and all the elegancies of mind. The very wantof such equality might prevent his perception of it” (E, p. 147). Onlyreluctantly does she admit to herself that there was some mutuality intheir misperceptions: “Emma was obliged in common honesty to stopand admit that her own behaviour to him had been so complaisant andobliging. . . . If she had so misinterpreted his feelings, she had little rightto wonder that he, with self-interest to blind him, should have mistaken107

her’s” (E, p. 147–148). Emma acknowledges that Mr. Knightley wasright about Mr. Elton and she was wrong; even worse, Mr. Knightley’sbrother John had earlier warned her of Mr. Elton’s apparent interest butEmma had laughed it off, “amusing herself in the consideration of theblunders which often arise from a partial knowledge of circumstances,of the mistakes which people of high pretensions to judgment are forever falling into” (E, pp. 120–121). Even when she has to tell Harrietthat Mr. Elton never loved her, Emma still thinks of Harriet’s tearfulreaction in terms of social distinction, who is superior and who isinferior: “her grief was so truly artless, that no dignity could havemade it more respectable in Emma’s eyes—and she listened to her andtried to console her with all her heart and understanding—really forthe time convinced that Harriet was the superior creature of the two”(E, p. 153).Emma would have figured out eventually that she, not Harriet,was Mr. Elton’s target; after all, she began to have suspicions in spite ofherself during the Westons’ dinner. Had Emma and Mr. Elton not beenunfortunately placed alone in a carriage together, Mr. Elton’s proposalwould not have come so abruptly, and their misperceptions would nothave been so grossly revealed. But why did Emma’s misperceptionspersist for as long as they did? Her strategicness helps explain awaydiscrepancies, but on top of this her sense of entitlement and superiorsocial status allows her to conclude that when another person does notdo what she thinks they should do, there is something wrong with themrather than something wrong with her own perception. When Mr. Eltoneagerly agrees with Emma’s suggestion of creating a portrait of Harriet,saying that he delights in seeing “specimens of your landscapes andflowers,” Emma says to herself, “You know nothing of drawing. Don’tpretend to be in raptures about mine. Keep your raptures for Harriet’sface” (E, p. 44, 45). When Mr. Elton entreats Emma to protect her ownhealth and not visit the ill Harriet, instead of concluding that maybe hedoes not love Harriet, she sees in Mr. Elton “an inconstancy, if real, themost contemptible and abominable! and she had difficulty in behavingwith temper” (E, p. 135). In this respect, Emma is just a less unpleasantversion of Lady Catherine, who when stooping to visit the lower-status108

Elizabeth Bennet, presumes that Elizabeth already knows the reasonfor her visit. After all, both Lady Catherine and Emma try to guaranteethe match they like by prohibiting a competing match.A fixation with status and gaining distinction for her own strategicability is what makes Emma embark on matching Harriet and Mr. Eltonin the first place. When Emma contrives for Harriet and herself to visitthe vicarage, and successfully retreats so that Harriet and Mr. Elton arealone together, “Emma felt the glory of having schemed successfully”(E, p. 96). It is not enough for Mr. Elton simply to love Harriet; Harrietmust also feel proud of the strategic thought which went into it. “I congratulateyou, my dear Harriet, with all my heart. This is an attachmentwhich a woman may well feel pride in creating” (E, p. 78). The achievementof Harriet’s match is measured in public comparison with othermarriages (“Your marrying will be equal to the match at Randalls” (E,p. 79)), not in the happiness of the couple. Emma’s goal from the startis to demonstrate her strategic prowess to Mr. Knightley and others,and getting Harriet married is just a vehicle toward that end. Emmatook special pride in matching Miss Taylor with Mr. Weston because“so many people said Mr. Weston would never marry again” (E, p. 10).Thus for her strategic prowess to attain still greater distinction, Emmaneeds an even more unlikely couple. Emma is strategically sophisticated,but like the naive Will Parker, is obsessed with social distinctionand what her strategic actions “mean.” Mr. Knightley is better not onlyspecifically in predicting the failure of Emma’s plan but generally in hisattitude toward his own substantial strategic skills: “I do not pretendto Emma’s genius for foretelling and guessing” (E, p. 38). After herfailure, seeing Harriet’s tears, Emma does not abandon her strategicskills and can only try to be less demonstrative: “It was rather toolate in the day to set about being simple-minded and ignorant; but sheleft her with every previous resolution confirmed of being humble anddiscreet” (E, p. 153).Humbled in manipulation, Emma falls back on flaunting her skillsof detection. Of course the most important preference to detect is who isin love with whom. Jane Fairfax, who is the same age as Emma, arrivesto stay with her aunt Miss Bates and her grandmother Mrs. Bates. Since109

her own parents died early, Jane was raised by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell,together with their own daughter Miss Campbell, who has recentlymarried Mr. Dixon and moved with him to Ireland. The Campbells arevisiting Ireland but Jane decides to visit Highbury instead, and Emmaquickly surmises that Jane is thereby avoiding Mr. Dixon because of asecret attachment between them. For Emma, this conclusion is not atall farfetched, since Jane Fairfax is reportedly far more beautiful thanthe former Miss Campbell, Mr. Dixon openly prefers Jane’s singing tohis wife’s, and Mr. Dixon kept Jane from falling off a boat. With littlewealth and family support, Jane is preparing for life as a governess.Emma dislikes Jane because she is so reserved, providing for exampleno real information about Frank Churchill. Frank Churchill is the sonof Mr. Weston from his first marriage to Miss Churchill; after her earlydeath he was raised by her brother’s family and later adopted theirsurname. It is expected that Frank Churchill must soon visit to pay hisrespects to his father’s new wife, and Emma thinks him marked off forherself: “if she were to marry, he was the very person to suit her in age,character and condition. He seemed by this connection between thefamilies, quite to belong to her” (E, p. 128).When Frank Churchill finally obtains leave from his needy andillness-prone aunt Mrs. Churchill, Emma observes his warm and opencompliments; he is indeed very good at “knowing how to please” (E,p. 206). She finds it odd that he goes all the way to London just to get ahaircut, but thinking to herself defends him against what she imaginesto be Mr. Knightley’s reproach: “Mr. Knightley, he is not a trifling, sillyyoung man. If he were, he would have done this differently. He wouldeither have gloried in the achievement, or been ashamed of it. Therewould have been either the ostentation of a coxcomb, or the evasionsof a mind too weak to defend its own vanities” (E, p. 229). For Emma,who is preoccupied with presentation, what indicates Frank Churchill’scharacter is not the decision itself but how he publicly presents it. Whenthey meet, Emma is busy “fancying what the observations of all thosemight be, who were now seeing them together” (E, p. 230). A pianofortemysteriously arrives at the Bates residence for Jane Fairfax, and whenEmma suggests that it must have come not from her guardian Colonel110

Campbell but from Mr. Dixon, Frank Churchill agrees, “I can see it inno other light than as an offering of love” (E, p. 236).Frank Churchill quickly becomes Emma’s ally in investigating andotherwise tormenting Jane Fairfax. Miss Bates invites them to give theiropinion on the new pianoforte. While Jane Fairfax sits at the instrument,Frank Churchill asks her, “How much your friends in Ireland must beenjoying your pleasure on this occasion, Miss Fairfax. I dare say theyoften think of you, and wonder which will be the day, the precise day ofthe instrument’s coming to hand. Do you imagine Colonel Campbellknows the business to be going forward just at this time?” Emma“wished he would be less pointed, yet could not help being amused,”and whispers, “You speak too plain. She must understand you” (E,pp. 260, 262).Emma begins to accept that her strategic companion FrankChurchill is in love with her, especially after he begins an awkwardconfession, only to be interrupted by his father walking in. Emmainquires as to whether she is in love with Frank Churchill. She firstexamines her feelings: “[t]his sensation of listlessness, weariness, stupidity,this disinclination to sit down and employ myself, this feelingof every thing’s being dull and insipid about the house!—I must be inlove; I should be the oddest creature in the world if I were not—for afew weeks at least” (E, p. 283). But in the following days she discoversherself “still busy and cheerful,” and what is quite conclusive is hertesting of different scenarios: “forming a thousand amusing schemesfor the progress and close of their attachment, fancying interesting dialogues,and inventing elegant letters; the conclusion of every imaginarydeclaration on his side was that she refused him” (E, p. 284). Rather thanrelying on her feelings, Emma thinks about how she would choose inthe end in all possible love games. Rather than looking deep inside hersoul, Emma considers what her externally observable actions would be.Emma looks at other peoples’ actions to figure out whether they are inlove, and it is natural to use the same technique on herself. She remindsherself to not encourage Frank Churchill and wonders whether Harrietmight be a good consolation prize for him.111

Mrs. Weston suggests to Emma that Mr. Knightley might be in lovewith Jane Fairfax, and even that he bought the pianoforte himself, givenhis obvious admiration of her performances. Mr. Knightley had alsosent his own carriage to transport Jane and Miss Bates on a cold eveningand had even sent to the Bates residence his complete supply of theparticular apples which Jane Fairfax enjoys. Emma deems this prospecta “very shameful and degrading connexion” and sets out to destroy anyidea of it (E, p. 243). Emma notes that Mr. Knightley does not care forthe upcoming ball which Jane will attend and successfully contrivesMr. Knightley’s explicit statement that he will never ask Jane to marryhim. Mr. Knightley tells Emma that she is “miserably behindhand,”that he has already disabused Mr. Cole of any notion that he mightmarry Jane: “Mr. Cole gave me a hint of it six weeks ago. . . . I told himhe was mistaken; he asked my pardon and said no more. Cole does notwant to be wiser or wittier than his neighbours” (E, p. 310, 310–311).At the ball, Mr. Elton pointedly refuses Mrs. Weston’s request thathe might dance with Harriet, leaving her the only young woman withouta partner. But Mr. Knightley, who does not usually dance, stepsin and asks Harriet, delighting Emma. Harriet is rescued again thenext day, this time by Frank Churchill, who chases away some gypsychildren begging Harriet for money. Emma observes, “it had happenedto the very person, and at the very hour, when the other very personwas chancing to pass by to rescue her!—It certainly was very extraordinary!. . . It was not possible that the occurrence should not be stronglyrecommending each to the other” (E, p. 362–363). Emma gets Harrietto express her admiration, without naming names, of the gentleman’s“infinite superiority” and her gratitude for being rescued: “when I sawhim coming—his noble look—and my wretchedness before. Such achange! . . . From perfect misery to perfect happiness!” (E, p. 370).Mr. Knightley has been watching Frank Churchill, and when hesees him look expressively at Jane Fairfax, he senses a private connectionbetween them. When he tries to warn Emma, she is too embarrassedto reveal that she and Frank Churchill have their own jointproject of suspecting Jane Fairfax’s illicit connection with Mr. Dixon,and emphatically declares that Jane Fairfax and Frank Churchill “are112

as far from any attachment or admiration for one another, as any twobeings in the world can be” (E, p. 380). Mr. Knightley is “staggered” byEmma’s confidence (E, p. 380).Emma and Frank Churchill try to enliven a dull conversation with agame in which everyone has to say one clever thing or three dull things.Miss Bates volunteers that she can easily come up with three dullthings, and Emma cannot help but chime in that Miss Bates might havedifficulty limiting herself to only three. Later Mr. Knightley reprimandsEmma for this impudence. Emma defends herself by saying “what isgood and what is ridiculous are most unfortunately blended in her”;Mr. Knightley agrees but explains that it is not the literal meaningof Emma’s remark but its social context which makes it particularlyoffensive: “She is poor; she has sunk from the comforts she was bornto; and, if she live to old age, must probably sink more. . . . You, whomshe had known from an infant, whom she had seen grow up from aperiod when her notice was an honour, to have you now, in thoughtlessspirits, and the pride of the moment, laugh at her, humble her—andbefore her niece, too” (E, p. 408). Emma reflects upon her cruelty anduncharacteristically cries on the way home.After delaying for months, Jane Fairfax finally submits to taking aposition as a governess, at the arrangement of Mrs. Elton, Mr. Elton’snew wife. Luckily, Frank Churchill’s aunt Mrs. Churchill dies, leavingFrank Churchill free to gain permission to marry from his more pliableuncle and finally reveal his secret engagement with Jane Fairfax.Emma was correct in thinking the piano a love offering, but it wasfrom Frank Churchill himself rather than Mr. Dixon; Frank Churchillhad arranged the purchase while he was in London getting his haircut.Emma erred in thinking of the haircut in terms of what it meant aboutFrank Churchill’s vanity, as opposed to seeing it simply as a cover fora specific instrumental action. Mr. Knightley’s suspicions were correct;Emma dismissed them because of her own presumed strategic partnershipwith Frank Churchill. Frank Churchill duped Emma by playing toher self-regard as a strategist; excessive pride in one’s strategic abilityinvites flattery and thereby opens up another way to be manipulated.As W. C. Fields (1939) says, “you can’t cheat an honest man.” After113

all, Emma’s suspicion of Mr. Dixon was initially her own idea, andFrank Churchill merely strongly agreed with it. He had tried to tellEmma of his secret, and this, not a marriage proposal, was the awkwardconfession which was interrupted by his father. Mr. Knightley iscorrect in saying that Frank Churchill makes Emma’s “talents conduceto the display of his own superiority,” (E, p. 162) but Frank Churchillis also vain about his own strategic ability, and this vanity makes himalso overextend and nearly blunder. In conversation he assumes thatMr. Perry’s plan to set up a carriage is publicly known when it wasactually only discussed among the Bates household; he thus almostreveals his secret communication with Jane Fairfax.Emma worries about disheartening Harriet again, this time withthe news of Frank Churchill’s engagement, but Harriet is surprisedthat Emma even mentions him; the rescuer whom Harriet admiresis Mr. Knightley. Emma realizes that Mr. Knightley has been payinggreater attentions to Harriet recently, and a “mind like her’s, onceopening to suspicion, made rapid progress. . . . Why was it so muchworse that Harriet should be in love with Mr. Knightley, than withFrank Churchill? Why was the evil so dreadfully increased by Harriet’shaving some hope of a return?” (E, p. 444). Only with a competitor’sactive threat does Emma realize that Mr. Knightley must marry herself.Immediately Emma knows what she must do to protect her own claim:“For her own advantage indeed, it was fit that the utmost extent ofHarriet’s hopes should be enquired into” (E, p. 445). Emma guidesthe conversation to get as much detail as possible about why Harrietthinks Mr. Knightley is interested in her. After Harriet leaves, Emmafor the first time inquires deeply into her own feelings: “To understand,thoroughly understand her own heart, was the first endeavour. . . . Tillnow that she was threatened with its loss, Emma had never known howmuch of her happiness depended on being first with Mr. Knightley, firstin interest and affection” (E, p. 449–452).Mr. Knightley is around thirty-seven and “one of the few peoplewho could see faults in Emma Woodhouse, and the only one who evertold her of them. . . . [H]e had loved her, and watched over her from agirl, with an endeavour to improve her, and an anxiety for her doing114

ight” (E, pp. 9, 452). But especially after his excoriation of her behaviortoward Miss Bates, Emma worries that Harriet might have greater claimto his affection. Mr. Knightley comes to see Emma, thinking that shemust be disappointed about Frank Churchill’s engagement. Emmaassures him that she never had any real interest in Frank Churchill,and Mr. Knightley confesses, “In one respect he is the object of myenvy” (E, p. 467). Even after chastising herself for her presumption(“With insufferable vanity had she believed herself in the secret of everybody’s feelings; with unpardonable arrogance proposed to arrangeeverybody’s destiny” (E, p. 449)), she still tries to manage the situationby changing the subject. Emma does not allow Mr. Knightley to simplymake his statement; Emma thinks he is talking about Harriet and askshim not to speak. But Emma crucially reconsiders, thinking that shemust allow Mr. Knightley to confide in her: “cost her what it would,she would listen. She might assist his resolution, or reconcile him to it;she might give just praise to Harriet, or, by representing to him his ownindependence, relieve him from that state of indecision” (E, p. 468). Shetells Mr. Knightley that she will continue walking with him and that heshould speak openly to her as a friend.Mr. Knightley submits, “You hear nothing but truth from me.—Ihave blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no otherwoman in England would have borne it.—Bear with the truths I wouldtell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. . . .God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover.—But you understandme” (E, p. 469). Emma finally understands Mr. Knightley’s regard.Emma’s most important strategic move, continuing their walk, takinganother turn around the grounds and allowing Mr. Knightley to speak,does not need to be crowed about or gloried in; all that matters is thatit works. In fact, Emma feels its inelegance: “her proposal of takinganother turn, her renewing the conversation which she had just putan end to, might be a little extraordinary!—She felt its inconsistency;but Mr. Knightley was so obliging as to put up with it, and seek nofarther explanation” (E, p. 470). Mr. Knightley’s lectures and programof instruction for Emma over the years, and Emma’s willingness to beinstructed, are the basis for his love for her. Thus his lecture about115

Emma’s treatment of Miss Bates is an expression of care and affection,not dislike. Emma’s commitment to being Mr. Knightley’s strategicpartner, to help him make a decision and increase his resolve, even tothe benefit of her rival, motivates her decision to continue their walkand is therefore the basis for her success in the end. She succeedsthis one time not by correctly inferring another’s motivations or bymanipulating him but by simply allowing that person the autonomy tospeak for himself.Mr. Knightley’s jealousy of Frank Churchill “probably enlightenedhim as to” his love for Emma, and thus both his and Emma’s affectionwere catalyzed by rivals (E, p. 471). Harriet’s strategic skills havedeveloped: her perception of Mr. Elton’s affection was dominated byEmma’s interpretations and was completely wrong, but she is ableto detect Mr. Knightley’s interest all by herself (initially skeptical ofEmma’s high opinion of Harriet, Mr. Knightley had taken efforts toget to know her). Mr. Robert Martin proposes to Harriet again, andthis time Harriet accepts without any advice necessary, outgrowingEmma’s tutelage just as Anne Elliot outgrew Lady Russell’s.Emma is the least constrained of all Austen’s heroines, but is hardlythe most independent; she craves praise and validation and thinks constantlyabout how her strategic actions will be reviewed by others, inparticular her tutor Mr. Knightley. This is understandable since Emmadoes not have anyone else around expert enough to appreciate her ownskills. Elizabeth Bennet has her father, Elinor and Marianne Dashwoodhave their mother, Anne Elliot is too mature to care about showingher skills off, and Catherine Morland and Fanny Price are too young toknow that they can. Mr. Knightley’s criticisms can be unsparing (for example,“Better be without sense, than misapply it as you do” (E, p. 67)),but at least he understands. Emma’s father is hopeless strategicallyand her sister Isabella is “slow and diffident” (E, p. 37). Her governessMrs. Weston is not great either. Mrs. Weston should have been able todetect the potential of Emma and Mr. Knightley, as Mr. Knightley hadagreed with her statement that Emma was “loveliness itself” (E, p. 39),and she had witnessed Emma bristle when she spoke of a match betweenMr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax, but she does nothing, worrying116

instead about disappointing Emma with the news of Frank Churchill’sengagement. Emma needs a colleague, a co-conspirator, and whatmakes Emma excited about the arrival of Frank Churchill is her anticipationthat his strategic acumen can appreciate hers. Emma’s matchwith Mr. Knightley finally gives her that true strategic partner.117

8Austen’s foundations of game theoryGame theory’s core concepts are choice (people do what they dobecause they choose to do so), preferences (people choose to maximizetheir payoffs), and strategic thinking (before taking an action, a personthinks about how others will act). Austen establishes and analyzesthese foundational concepts in examples too numerous and systematicto be considered incidental. She discusses how a person’s choicebest reveals her preferences and discusses terms for strategic thinkingsuch as “penetration.” Strategic thinking is best illustrated by strategicsophomores, who think they are skilled but are not. Austen also knowsthat to detect a person’s preferences it helps to observe their eyes.ChoiceFor Austen, choice is a central concern, even obsession. The singlemost important choice is a woman’s choice of whether and whom tomarry, and Austen’s heroines adamantly defend this choice againstany presumption otherwise. After Edward Ferrars is disowned by hisfamily for his secret engagement with Lucy Steele, Mr. John Dashwoodtells his sister Elinor Dashwood that the Ferrars family now plans forthe wealthy Miss Morton to marry Edward’s brother Robert instead.Elinor hardly cares about Miss Morton, but defends the principle: “Thelady, I suppose, has no choice in the affair” (SS, p. 336). EdmundBertram tells Fanny Price that Henry Crawford’s sisters are surprisedby her refusal of Henry’s proposal, but Fanny submits, “Let him haveall the perfections in the world, I think it ought not to be set down ascertain, that a man must be acceptable to every woman he may happento like himself” (MP, p. 408). As mentioned earlier, after Harriet Smith118

efuses Mr. Robert Martin’s proposal, Emma Woodhouse responds toMr. Knightley’s indignation by saying, “it is always incomprehensibleto a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A manalways imagines a woman to be ready for anybody who asks her” (E,p. 64). When Lady Catherine commands Elizabeth Bennet to promiseto never become engaged with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth defends her rightto choose: “I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in myown opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or toany person so wholly unconnected with me” (PP, p. 396). According toJohnson (1988, p. 84), “among Austen’s contemporaries perhaps onlydeclared radicals would have a sympathetic character defiantly” makesuch an undiluted statement. In contrast, the unheroic, self-centeredMary Musgrove, Anne Elliot’s sister, sides with Lady Catherine, stating:“I do not think any young woman has a right to make a choice that maybe disagreeable and inconvenient to the principal part of her family, andbe giving bad connections to those who have not been used to them”(P, p. 82).Thoughtful men are aware that women can make choices. EdmundBertram asks Mrs. Norris to stop pressuring Fanny to act in the playand let Fanny “choose for herself as well as the rest of us” (MP, p. 172),and Frank Churchill states that “It is always the lady’s right to decideon the degree of acquaintance” (E, p. 216). Idiotic men are not aware:“Many Austenian men . . . cannot take ‘no’ for an answer” (Johnson1988, p. 36). Like Jud Fry, John Thorpe does not know that dancingwith a woman requires asking her; he goes up to Catherine Morlandand declares, “Well, Miss Morland, I suppose you and I are to standup and jig it together again” and later, “what is the meaning of this?—Ithought you and I were to dance together” (NA, p. 54, 73).Being able to make a choice is almost always a good thing forAusten; it is “a great deal better to chuse than to be chosen” (E, p. 15).There is power in being able to make a choice. Elizabeth Bennet remarksthat Mr. Darcy has “great pleasure in the power of choice. I do notknow any body who seems more to enjoy the power of doing whathe likes than Mr. Darcy” (PP, p. 205). Discussing Mr. Rushworth’splan to relandscape his estate, the thoughtful Edmund Bertram says119

that he would want to make his own choices and not hire a specialistimprover: “had I a place to new fashion, I should not put myself intothe hands of an improver. I would rather have an inferior degree ofbeauty, of my own choice, and acquired progressively. I would ratherabide by my own blunders than by his” (MP, p. 66–67). In contrast, theshallow Mary Crawford would “be most thankful to any Mr. Reptonwho would undertake it, and give me as much beauty as he could formy money; and I should never look at it, till it was complete” and thenot yet decisive Fanny is content to just watch: “It would be delightfulto me to see the progress of it all” (MP, p. 67). Emma believes thatshe and her father should not attend the party hosted by the sociallyinferior Coles family, but when an invitation does not arrive, she feels“that she should like to have had the power of refusal” (E, p. 224).The single exception seems to be when Fanny must choose whetherto wear either the gold chain given by Edmund or the gold necklacegiven by Mary Crawford to the ball, to go along with her amber cross,a gift from her brother William. Edmund prefers her to wear Mary’snecklace because of his own interest in Mary. “She had, to obligeEdmund, resolved to wear it [the necklace]—but it was too large forthe purpose. His therefore must be worn; and having, with delightfulfeelings, joined the chain and the cross, those memorials of the twomost beloved of her heart . . . and seen and felt how full of Williamand Edward they were, she was able, without an effort, to resolveon wearing Miss Crawford’s necklace too” (MP, pp. 314–315). Sincethe necklace from Mary is too large for the cross to be attached to it,Fanny has no choice and therefore can blamelessly wear Edmund’schain, which is what she wants. But once that point is settled, she thenexercises her power of choice by deciding to wear Mary’s necklace aswell.Correspondingly, people who cannot make choices deserve ridiculeor worse. On a shopping trip, Marianne Dashwood can barely tolerate“the tediousness of Mrs. Palmer, whose eye was caught by everything pretty, expensive, or new; who was wild to buy all, could determineon none, and dawdled away her time in rapture and indecision”(SS, p. 187–188). Shopping with Emma, “Harriet, tempted by every120

thing and swayed by half a word, was always very long at a purchase”(E, p. 252); when Harriet goes back and forth on the trivial decision ofto where her purchases should be delivered, Emma impatiently directs,“That you do not give another half-second to the subject” and makesHarriet’s decision for her (E, p. 254). More seriously, Mr. Weston’sfirst wife Miss Churchill marries him in spite of her family’s wishes,but she cannot completely give up the luxury of her parents’ homeat Enscombe, and thus “[t]hey lived beyond their income . . . she didnot cease to love her husband, but she wanted at once to be the wifeof Captain Weston, and Miss Churchill of Enscombe” (E, p. 14). MissChurchill cannot choose between one life and another and dies in threeyears. For that matter, the ruinous affair between Maria Bertram andHenry Crawford results from their inability to make choices. Maria isunable to choose between married life and being pursued by Henry,and Henry is unable to choose between his pursuit of Fanny and theego boost from overcoming Maria’s coldness: “he could not bear tobe thrown off by the woman whose smiles had been so wholly at hiscommand. . . . [H]e went off with her at last, because he could not helpit, regretting Fanny, even at the moment” (MP, p. 541–542).For Austen, choices bind. You can’t have it both ways. Onceyou make a choice, you cannot pretend you did not make it. Aftervisiting her friend Charlotte Lucas at her new married home with thevacant Mr. Collins, Elizabeth Bennet laments, “Poor Charlotte!—it wasmelancholy to leave her to such society!—But she had chosen it withher eyes open” (PP, p. 239). When Willoughby, hearing that Marianneis on the verge of death, visits to seek forgiveness, even after havingmarried Miss Grey for money, Elinor observes, “You are very wrong,Mr. Willoughby, very blamable . . . you ought not to speak in this way,either of Mrs. Willoughby or my sister. You had made your own choice.It was not forced on you” (SS, p. 373).An inability to make choices can stem from a lack of resolve, whichis consistently decried. When Emma and Mr. Knightley discuss whyit has taken months for Frank Churchill to visit his father’s new wife,Emma thinks that “his uncle and aunt will not spare him” and thatMr. Knightley does not understand “the difficulties of dependence” (E,121

pp. 156, 157). But Mr. Knightley firmly replies, “There is one thing,Emma, which a man can always do, if he chuses, and that is, his duty;not by manoeuvring and finessing, but by vigour and resolution” (E,p. 157). When Mr. Darcy chides his friend Mr. Bingley for yielding tooquickly to the suggestions of others, Elizabeth at first defends Mr. Bingley:“You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influenceof friendship and affection” (PP, p. 54). However, when Mr. Bingleysuspends without explanation his courtship of her sister Jane, Elizabethcorrectly suspects Mr. Darcy’s and Caroline Bingley’s interferenceand reverses her position: “she could not think without anger, hardlywithout contempt, on that easiness of temper, that want of proper resolution,which now made him the slave of his designing friends” (PP,p. 151).Austen hates encumbered choices. When Mrs. Norris asks TomBertram to help make a rubber for playing cards along with Dr. Grantand Mrs. Rushworth, Tom escapes by leading Fanny to dance. Tomcomplains to Fanny about his aunt’s request: “And to ask me in sucha way too! without ceremony, before them all, so as to leave me nopossibility of refusing! That is what I dislike most particularly. It raisesmy spleen more than any thing, to have the pretence of being asked”(MP, p. 141). Tom makes his point but demonstrates his obliviousnessin complaining to Fanny, whose entire life is an encumbered choice.“Robbing people of their choice lies at the heart of virtually everysignificant incident” in Mansfield Park (Edwards 1965, p. 56). AfterJane Fairfax is discovered to regularly fetch her family’s letters fromthe post office in the early morning even in the rain (to keep othersfrom knowing about letters sent to her by Frank Churchill), Mrs. Eltontells Jane that she will ask the servant who fetches her own lettersto fetch Jane’s as well. Mrs. Elton is odious because she gives Janeno choice in the matter: “My dear Jane, say no more about it. Thething is determined. . . . [C]onsider that point as settled” (E, p. 319–320). Finally, the entire plot of Persuasion is how Anne Elliot overcomesher original encumbered choice of refusing Captain Wentworth. OnceAnne and Captain Wentworth finally understand their feelings for eachother, they are “more exquisitely happy, perhaps, in their re-union, than122

when it had been first projected; more tender, more tried, more fixedin a knowledge of each other’s character, truth, and attachment; moreequal to act, more justified in acting” (P, p. 261). Now that Anneis older, no longer encumbered, “more equal to act,” by choosing tomarry Captain Wentworth she achieves more than just the correctionof her eight-year-old mistake; being empowered and unencumberedimproves both choice and result.To make a choice thoughtfully, one must understand the counterfactualof what would have happened had you made another choice.Mary Crawford argues that Edmund’s chosen profession, the clergy,encourages indolence, not ambition. Edmund and Fanny do not agreewith her, but Mary cites as evidence her own brother-in-law Dr. Grant:“though he . . . often preaches good sermons, and is very respectable, Isee him to be an indolent, selfish bon vivant, who must have his palateconsulted in every thing, who will not stir a finger for the convenienceof any one” (MP, p. 130). Edmund is willing to give up (“Fanny, itgoes against us. We cannot attempt to defend Dr. Grant”) but Fannyargues that in another profession Dr. Grant would have been evenworse: “whatever there may be to wish otherwise in Dr. Grant, wouldhave been in a greater danger of becoming worse in a more active andworldly profession. . . . I have no doubt that he oftener endeavours torestrain himself than he would if he had been any thing but a clergyman”(MP, p. 131). Mary Crawford and Edmund might seem morestrategically experienced than Fanny, but only Fanny understands thatthe relevant counterfactual is Dr. Grant having some other profession,not having no profession at all. When Edmund tells Fanny that he isconcerned about Mary Crawford’s character and is not sure whether topropose to her, perhaps Fanny would like to suggest that the relevantchoice is not between Mary and not marrying at all, but between Maryand another person, such as herself. Similarly, when Emma wonderswhy the sophisticated Jane Fairfax spends so much time with the odiousMrs. Elton, Mrs. Weston offers, “We cannot suppose that she hasany great enjoyment at the Vicarage, my dear Emma—but it is betterthan being always at home. Her aunt is a good creature, but, as aconstant companion, must be very tiresome. We must consider what123

Miss Fairfax quits, before we condemn her taste for what she goes to”(E, p. 308).Understanding the right counterfactual is not always easy; it can bedifficult to imagine all aspects of what would have happened had youchosen differently. When Anne meets Captain Wentworth’s friends,Captains Harville and Benwick, whose friendship is “so unlike theusual style of give-and-take invitations, and dinners of formality anddisplay,” Anne is forced to observe her counterfactual life had she notrefused Captain Wentworth’s original proposal: “ ‘These would havebeen all my friends,’ was her thought; and she had to struggle againsta great tendency to lowness” (P, p. 105). Anne does know that somecounterfactuals are not worth thinking about, namely those which havealready been made impossible by events. During the concert in Bath,Mr. Elliot persists in his attentions toward Anne, making Captain Wentworthleave in a fit of jealousy. Anne feels goodwill toward Mr. Elliot,enough to raise the question of how Anne might think of him had therebeen no Captain Wentworth. But Anne realizes that this counterfactualis irrelevant: “How she might have felt, had there been no CaptainWentworth in the case, was not worth enquiry; for there was a CaptainWentworth: and be the conclusion of the present suspense good or bad,her affection would be his for ever” (P, p. 208).PreferencesIn game theory’s utility maximization model, a person’s preferencefor each alternative is represented by a utility or payoff number.Underlying this is an assumption of commensurability, that complexmixtures of feelings can be reduced to a single sentiment or utility.Austen acknowledges that this assumption can be problematic: for example,when Captain Wentworth arranges for Admiral and Mrs. Croftto take Anne Elliot home in their carriage, “it was a proof of his ownwarm and amiable heart, which she could not contemplate withoutemotions so compounded of pleasure and pain, that she knew notwhich prevailed” (P, p. 98). However, Austen consistently takes painsto argue for commensurability.124

Austen almost always allows a mixture of feelings to resolve intoa single feeling, usually just through the passage of time. At Fanny’sfirst ball, Henry Crawford quickly engages Fanny for the first twodances, and “[h]er happiness on this occasion was very much à lamortal, finely chequered. To be secure of a partner at first, was a mostessential good . . . but at the same time there was a pointedness inhis manner of asking her, which she did not like, and she saw his eyeglancing for a moment at her necklace—with a smile—she thoughtthere was a smile—which made her blush and feel wretched” (MP,pp. 318–319). Fanny experiences both appreciation and revulsion, and“had no composure till he turned away to some one else. Then shecould gradually rise up to the genuine satisfaction of having a partner,a voluntary partner” (MP, p. 319). Once Fanny is able to composeherself, she can reduce the two competing feelings into a single genuinesatisfaction. After Henry Crawford tells Fanny that he secured herbrother William’s promotion to demonstrate his love for her, Fannyis “in the utmost confusion of contrary feeling. . . . agitated, happy,miserable, infinitely obliged, absolutely angry” (MP, pp. 349–350). Butat the end of the day, the confusion is resolved since the pleasure lastswhile the pain decays: “Fanny thought she had never known a day ofgreater agitation, both of pain and pleasure; but happily the pleasurewas not of a sort to die with the day—for every day would restorethe knowledge of William’s advancement, whereas the pain she hopedwould return no more” (MP, p. 356). When Edward Ferrars receivesLucy Steele’s letter saying that she has married his brother, therebyreleasing him from their engagement, he is “half stupified between thewonder, the horror, and the joy of such a deliverance” (SS, p. 413).Edward tells Elinor that “this is the only letter I ever received fromher, of which the substance made me any amends for the defect of thestyle” (SS, p. 414). Even though Edward does not reduce his wonder,horror, and joy into a single satisfaction, he defends the principle thatdisparate aspects, style and substance, can compensate for each other.After Marianne is dumped by Willoughby, Mrs. Jennings tries tocheer her up, and Elinor “could have been entertained by Mrs. Jennings’sendeavours to cure a disappointment in love, by a variety of125

sweetmeats and olives, and a good fire” (SS, p. 220). It might seemfoolish to think that the trivial pleasures of food and physical warmthcould possibly compensate for a broken heart, but Mrs. Jennings hasa point. Austen often delights in how one completely different kindof feeling can compensate for another. Catherine Morland is disappointedthat the Tilneys do not show up for their planned walk, evenafter the rain stops, and thus decides to go on a carriage ride with JohnThorpe, Isabella, and her brother. “Catherine’s feelings . . . were in avery unsettled state; divided between regret for the loss of one greatpleasure, and the hope of soon enjoying another, almost its equal indegree, however unlike in kind. . . . To feel herself slighted by them wasvery painful. On the other hand, the delight of exploring an edificelike Udolpho, as her fancy represented Blaize Castle to be, was such acounterpoise of good as might console her for almost any thing” (NA,p. 85). Catherine experiences a mixture of two feelings quite unlike inkind, but one compensates more than fully for the other. Lady Russelldislikes visiting Sir Walter Elliot at his rental house in Bath because shedislikes Mrs. Clay, who is staying there with Sir Walter and Elizabeth.But Mr. Elliot, Sir Walter’s presumptive heir, also often visits; LadyRussell begins to like him and think him a match for Anne, and “[h]ersatisfaction in Mr. Elliot outweighed all the plague of Mrs. Clay” (P,p. 159). Sitting in her former schoolroom, Fanny recalls “the pains oftyranny, of ridicule, and neglect” but also the consoling kindnesses ofEdmund, her aunt Bertram, and her teacher Miss Lee, and “the wholewas now so blended together, so harmonized by distance, that everyformer affliction had its charm” (MP, p. 178). The idea that a harm canbe counterbalanced by a completely different kind of good is relied onby Elizabeth Bennet; when Lady Catherine threatens that Mr. Darcy’sfamily will despise her if she marries him, Elizabeth responds, “thewife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happinessnecessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole,have no cause to repine” (PP, p. 394).A few times Austen uses explicitly quantitative analogies for happinessor sadness. When Henry Tilney leaves Northanger Abbey a fewdays early to prepare for a visit by Catherine and his sister and father to126

his own house at Woodston, he equates happiness with money whichcirculates in financial markets, remarking that “our pleasures in thisworld are always to be paid for, and that we often purchase them at agreat disadvantage, giving ready-monied actual happiness for a drafton the future, that may not be honoured. . . . Because I am to hopefor the satisfaction of seeing you at Woodston on Wednesday, whichbad weather, or twenty other causes, may prevent, I must go awaydirectly, two days before I intended it” (NA, p. 217). The Bennet familyawaits news of Lydia after she has run away with Wickham. Elizabethis certain that Mr. Darcy will as a result have nothing to do with herfamily; thus “had she known nothing of Darcy, she could have bornethe dread of Lydia’s infamy somewhat better. It would have sparedher, she thought, one sleepless night out of two” (PP, p. 329). Dreadcan be measured in number of sleepless nights.Given this commensurability, a feeling’s strength can be expressedin terms of how much of another feeling it takes to compensate for it,as in the concept of compensating differential in economics or chemistry’stitration. This is illustrated three times in quick succession whenMr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy unexpectedly return to visit the Bennet family.Mr. Darcy has underwritten Lydia’s marriage and thus saved theBennet family’s reputation, but only Elizabeth is aware of her family’sdebt to him. Mrs. Bennet snubs Mr. Darcy and showers attention onMr. Bingley, even though Mr. Bingley had abruptly stopped courtingElizabeth’s sister Jane with no explanation and has disregarded thefamily for months. “Elizabeth’s misery increased, at such unnecessary,such officious attention! . . . At that instant she felt, that years of happinesscould not make Jane or herself amends, for moments of suchpainful confusion” (PP, p. 373). Elizabeth wishes to never see the twomen again, saying to herself, “Their society can afford no pleasure,that will atone for such wretchedness as this!” (PP, p. 373). But whenElizabeth sees Mr. Bingley’s attraction to Jane, “the misery, for whichyears of happiness were to offer no compensation, received soon afterwardsmaterial relief, from observing how much the beauty of hersister re-kindled the admiration of her former lover” (PP, p. 373). Theconclusion is that for Elizabeth, observing Mr. Bingley’s admiration of127

her sister is worth more than years of happiness. Austen might bemaking fun of how the moment’s emotional strain of this moment isenough to make even Elizabeth’s feelings fluctuate from one extremeto the other, but it also must be said that a lover’s attention, if it leadsto marriage, could very well result in years of happiness to a bride’ssister, even under the soberest calculation.Similarly, when Fanny is left by herself in the Sotherton grounds,her “best consolation was in being assured that Edmund had wishedfor her very much . . . but this was not quite sufficient to do awaywith the pain of having been left a whole hour, when he had talked ofonly a few minutes” (MP, p. 120). Finally, after Maria Bertram’s affairand subsequent divorce, she goes off to live with Mrs. Norris, and“Mrs. Norris’s removal from Mansfield was the great supplementarycomfort of Sir Thomas’s life. . . . To be relieved from her . . . was so greata felicity that . . . there might have been danger of his learning almost toapprove the evil which produced such a good” (MP, pp. 538–539). ForSir Thomas, the pleasure of a life without Mrs. Norris is large enoughto nearly counterbalance the collapse of his family’s reputation.Revealed preferencesIn the end, a person’s choice best reveals the strength of competingfeelings. After Jane Bennet receives a letter from Caroline Bingley sayingthat her brother will most likely marry Mr. Darcy’s sister Georgiana,she asks Elizabeth, “[C]an I be happy, even supposing the best, in acceptinga man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marryelsewhere?” Elizabeth replies, “You must decide for yourself . . . and ifupon mature deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging histwo sisters is more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife, Iadvise you by all means to refuse him” (PP, p. 134). A person’s choicebest reveals her preferences. Therefore Elizabeth can well understandthe strength of Mr. Darcy’s feelings given his decision to propose: “somuch in love as to wish to marry her in spite of all the objections whichhad made him prevent his friend’s marrying her sister, and which mustappear at least with equal force in his own case, was almost incredible!128

it was gratifying to have inspired unconsciously so strong an affection”(PP, p. 216). Even if an affection is inspired unconsciously, a person’sdecision to act on it reveals its strength.If there is any doubt about a person’s preferences, his choices provideproof. Frank Churchill tells Emma that Jane Fairfax must be anexcellent pianist because Mr. Dixon, even while in love with anotherwoman, “would yet never ask that other woman to sit down to theinstrument, if the lady in question [Jane] could sit down instead. . . .That, I thought, in a man of known musical talent, was some proof”(E, p. 217). When Marianne agrees to go along with Mrs. Jennings toLondon, on the chance that she might see Willoughby there, Elinor observes:“That Marianne, fastidious as she was, thoroughly acquaintedwith Mrs. Jennings’ manners, and invariably disgusted by them . . .should disregard whatever must be most wounding to her irritablefeelings, in her pursuit of one object, was such a proof, so strong, sofull of the importance of that object to her” (SS, p. 176).Preferences can be revealed even by a hypothetical choice. AfterCatherine realizes that John Thorpe manipulated her into abandoningher plan to walk with Eleanor and Henry and instead ride with him toBlaize Castle, “rather than be thought ill of by the Tilneys, she wouldwillingly have given up all the happiness which its walls could supply”(NA, p. 86). Even after his brother Robert is bestowed the estate hewould have received, happy Edward Ferrars is “free from every wishof an exchange” (SS, p. 428). Anne admires the Musgrove sisters’happiness, but “would not have given up her own more elegant andcultivated mind for all their enjoyments” (P, p. 43). When EdmundBertram bids a final goodbye to Mary Crawford, the depth of Fanny’ssatisfaction is such that “there are few who might not have been gladto exchange their greatest gaiety for it” (MP, p. 533).A common objection to the utility maximization model is thatsometimes two alternatives are so different that they cannot be directlycompared. But Austen likes direct comparisons. Edward Ferrarsfoolishly engaged himself to Lucy Steele because “Lucy appeared everythingthat was amiable and obliging. . . . I had seen so little of otherwomen, that I could make no comparisons, and see no defects” (SS,129

p. 411). Mary Crawford had liked Tom Bertram, but after he returns toMansfield, listening to him talk is enough “to give her the fullest conviction,by the power of actual comparison, of her preferring his youngerbrother” (MP, p. 134). After Emma is engaged with Mr. Knightley, sheconverses with Frank Churchill, and “falling naturally into a comparisonof the two men, she felt, that pleased as she had been to see FrankChurchill . . . she had never been more sensible of Mr. Knightley’shigh superiority of character” (E, p. 524). Sometimes only throughcomparisons can an alternative be truly appreciated.Names for strategic thinkingAusten uses specific terms to refer to strategic thinking, such as“penetration,” “foresight,” and “sagacity.” For example, Mr. Bennettells Elizabeth, “Young ladies have great penetration in such matters asthese; but I think I may defy even your sagacity, to discover the name ofyour admirer” (PP, p. 401). When Marianne wants to stay home insteadof joining the family to visit Lady Middleton, Mrs. Dashwood concludesthat she must be planning to receive a visit from Willoughby: “On theirreturn from the park they found Willoughby’s curricle and servantin waiting at the cottage, and Mrs. Dashwood was convinced that herconjecture had been just. So far it was all as she had foreseen” (SS, p. 87).Along with “foresight,” “penetration” (according to Vermeule (2010,p. 187), “a word Austen plays on obsessively”) analogizes strategicthinking as vision. Isabella Thorpe tells Catherine that she must havealready known that James would propose: “Yes, my dear Catherine, itis so indeed; your penetration has not deceived you.—Oh! that archeye of yours!—It sees through every thing” (NA, p. 119). An obsoletemeaning of “sagacity” is a keen sense of smell.After Mr. Elton’s surprise proposal in the carriage, Emma recallsthat “[t]o Mr. John Knightley was she indebted for her first idea on thesubject, for the first start of its possibility. There was no denying thatthose brothers had penetration” (E, p. 146). Mr. John Knightley, “withsome slyness,” had warned a skeptical Emma, “he seems to have a greatdeal of good-will towards you. . . . You had better look about you, and130

ascertain what you do, and what you mean to do” (E, p. 120). Mr. JohnKnightley rides in the same carriage together with Emma and Mr. Eltonon the way to Randalls, but on the ride back home, “forgetting that hedid not belong to their party, stept in after his wife” in her carriage,leaving the two of them alone together (E, p. 139). Perhaps Mr. JohnKnightley “forgets” purposefully, anticipating that Mr. Elton’s actionswould validate his warning to Emma. A person with penetrationdiscerns another’s preferences and can also strategically flush themout.There are more than fifty strategic plans specifically named as“schemes” in Austen’s six novels; Edwards (1965, p. 55) writes that“meddling” is the theme of Austen’s novels and “indeed, it is the themeof most classic fiction and many of our difficulties with life.” For example,after Elizabeth declines Mr. Collins’s proposal, Elizabeth thanksCharlotte for talking to him to ease his mood, but “Charlotte’s kindnessextended farther than Elizabeth had any conception of;—its objectwas nothing less, than to secure her from any return of Mr. Collins’saddresses, by engaging them towards herself. Such was Miss Lucas’sscheme” (PP, p. 136). Occasionally “scheme” is used less specificallyto mean a social engagement; for example, when Lydia is in Londonwith Wickham, she says, “I did not once put my foot out of doors,though I was there a fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or any thing”(PP, p. 352). But of course social engagements often have strategicintentions; after Marianne is rescued by Willoughby, “the schemes ofamusement at home and abroad, which Sir John had been previouslyforming, were put into execution. . . . In every meeting of the kindWilloughby was included; and . . . these parties were exactly calculatedto give increasing intimacy to his acquaintance with the Dashwoods”(SS, p. 63). After their engagement, Mr. Collins and Charlotte spenda week “in professions of love and schemes of felicity” (PP, p. 158),and indeed a strategic plan is similar to a dream, a scenario in whicheveryone’s actions fall exactly into place.The term “contrive” is used similarly although less often. Forexample, when Emma and Harriet walk by Mr. Elton’s vicarage andHarriet is curious to see it, Emma says, “I wish we could contrive it .131

. . but I cannot think of any tolerable pretence for going in” (E, p. 90).“Art” is another term for strategic manipulation, as in Marianne’s exclamationwhen learning that Willoughby is engaged to another: “Andyet this woman—who knows what her art may have been—how long itmay have been premeditated, and how deeply contrived by her!” (SS,p. 216). “Art” has connotations of persuasion, as when Lady Catherinewarns Elizabeth to stay away from Mr. Darcy: “your arts and allurementsmay, in a moment of infatuation, have made him forget whathe owes to himself and to all his family. You may have drawn himin” (PP, pp. 392–393). “Sly” has associations with concealment, aswhen Mrs. Gardiner writes to Elizabeth that Mr. Darcy secretly paidoff Wickham to marry Lydia: “I thought him very sly;—he hardly evermentioned your name. But slyness seems the fashion” (PP, p. 360).“Cunning” has negative connotations; for example, after Mrs. Smithtells Anne about how Mr. Elliot has wormed his way into the family toprevent the marriage of Sir Walter with Mrs. Clay, Anne replies, “Thereis always something offensive in the details of cunning” (P, p. 224).However, none of the other terms are necessarily used disapprovingly.For example, in order to propose to Charlotte, Mr. Collins sneaks outof the Bennet residence “with admirable slyness” (PP, p. 136). SuspectingGeneral Tilney of murdering or imprisoning his wife, Catherine,“blushing at the consummate art of her own question,” asks Eleanorwhere Mrs. Tilney’s picture is hung (NA, p. 185).A common objection to game theory is that people surely do notcalculate as they are assumed to do in mathematical models. But inAusten’s novels, people calculate all the time in strategic settings withoutthe slightest intimation that calculation is difficult, “cold,” or unnatural.Willoughby offers Marianne “a horse, one that he had bredhimself on his estate in Somersetshire, and which was exactly calculatedto carry a woman” (SS, p. 68). His rival Colonel Brandon can calculatetoo: when Marianne falls ill, he offers to go get Mrs. Dashwood, and“with all the firmness of a collected mind, made every necessary arrangementwith the utmost dispatch, and calculated with exactness thetime in which she might look for his return” (SS, p. 352). Colonel Brandon’scalculation, calm but not unemotional, provides warm assurance.132

Similarly, since Mr. Collins is heir to Mr. Bennet’s property, after he isengaged to her daughter Charlotte, Lady Lucas “began directly to calculate,with more interest than the matter had ever excited before, howmany years longer Mr. Bennet was likely to live” (PP, p. 137). Therapidity of her calculation is an expression of her joy. After Louisa’sfall, Captain Wentworth realizes to his surprise that others considerhim engaged to her, and retreats to his brother’s house “lamenting theblindness of his own pride, and the blunders of his own calculations”(P, p. 264). Captain Wentworth blunders, but not because calculating isdifficult or unnatural. Captain Harville asks Anne to feel what a manfeels when he is apart from his family: “when, coming back after atwelvemonth’s absence perhaps, and obliged to put into another port,he calculates how soon it be possible to get them there, pretending todeceive himself, and saying, ‘They cannot be here till such a day,’ but allthe while hoping for them twelve hours sooner” (P, p. 255). Calculationis as human as managing one’s own expectations but at the same timehoping against them.By the way, Austen uses the term “rational,” but in the unspecializedsense of “reasonable” or “practical,” as when Mrs. Croft tells herbrother Captain Wentworth that women can be perfectly comfortableon a man-of-war: “I hate to hear you talking so, like a fine gentleman,and as if women were all fine ladies, instead of rational creatures” (P,p. 75). After Elizabeth refuses Mr. Collins’s proposal, he tells her, “Ishall chuse to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense”and Elizabeth replies, “Do not consider me now as an elegantfemale intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking thetruth from her heart” (PP, p. 122). Here “rational” means unstrategic.Austen uses a variant of “strategic” only once. When Elizabeth hearsthat Mr. Darcy was somehow involved with Lydia’s marriage, she asksher aunt Mrs. Gardiner to explain: “my dear aunt, if you do not tellme in an honourable manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks andstratagems to find it out” (PP, p. 354).More elaborate and pretentious terms for strategic thinking, such as“manoeuvre” or “taking in,” are used exclusively by people who do notreally know what they are doing. Mary Crawford says that marriage133

is “a manoeuvring business. I know so many who have married in thefull expectation and confidence of some . . . good quality in the person,who have found themselves entirely deceived. . . . What is this, but atake in?” (MP, p. 53–54). But Mary’s sister Mrs. Grant corrects her: “ifone scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if thefirst calculation is wrong, we make a second better; we find comfortsomewhere” (MP, p. 54). Note that if one calculation fails, a couple issaved not by hope and faith but by a second calculation. Mrs. Bennet,Mr. Elliot, and Mary Crawford are happy to manoeuvre, but Mr. Darcyand Anne Elliot use the term only to condemn (Frank Churchill andMr. Elliot respectively). When Sir John says that Willoughby is “verywell worth catching,” Mrs. Dashwood replies, “I do not believe . . . thatMr. Willoughby will be incommoded by the attempts of either of mydaughters towards what you call catching him. It is not an employmentto which they have been brought up” (SS, p. 52–53). After Marianneasks how Willoughby dances, Sir John continues, “You will be settingyour cap at him now.” Marianne, now provoked, exclaims: “Thatis an expression, Sir John . . . which I particularly dislike. I abhorevery common-place phrase by which wit is intended; and ’settingone’s cap at a man,’ or ’making a conquest,’ are the most odious ofall.” Sir John “did not much understand this reproof” and cannot shutup, continuing, “Ay, you will make conquests enough, I dare say, oneway or other. Poor Brandon! he is quite smitten already, and he isvery well worth setting your cap at” (SS, p. 53–54). Sir John thinks heknows the lingo of strategic thinking, but displays his imbecility in hisnonresponse to Marianne’s direct objection.Strategic sophomoresIndeed, poor strategic thinking is best illustrated not by the naivebut by the sophomoric, people who think they know something butdon’t. When Marianne asks Sir John what kind of man Willoughby is,Sir John cannot “describe to her the shades of his mind” (SS, p. 52). Theeasily duped John Dashwood, half-brother of Elinor and Marianne,fancies himself knowledgeable about the strategic ways of women,134

advising Elinor to to capture Colonel Brandon: “some of those littleattentions and encouragements which ladies can so easily give, will fixhim, in spite of himself” (SS, p. 254).Mrs. Jennings is the archetypical sophomore, who “missed no opportunityof projecting weddings among all the young people of heracquaintance” (SS, p. 43). After Willoughby clandestinely takes Marianneto show her Allenham Court, which he hopes to inherit, Mrs. Jenningsproudly reports, “I have found you out in spite of all your tricks.I know where you spent the morning. . . . I hope you like your house,Miss Marianne” (SS, p. 79). In London, Willoughby does not respondto Marianne’s letters, and acts with brutal coldness to her at a party. Aletter arrives from him, and Elinor “felt immediately such a sickness atheart as made her hardly able to hold up her head, and sat in such ageneral tremour as made her fear it impossible to escape Mrs. Jenning’snotice.” But Mrs. Jennings is comfortably unaware: “Of Elinor’s distress,she was too busily employed in measuring lengths of worsted forher rug, to see any thing at all” (SS, p. 206). Mrs. Jennings, who usuallygloats over her own powers, wants to be forgiven because she couldnot have possibly known that the purpose of Willoughby’s letter wasto tell Marianne that he is marrying Miss Grey: “I am sure if I had hada notion of it, I would not have joked her about it for all my money. Butthen you know, how should I guess such a thing? I made sure of itsbeing nothing but a common love letter, and you know young peoplelike to be laughed at about them” (SS, pp. 221–222). When ColonelBrandon visits, Mrs. Jennings whispers to Elinor, “The Colonel looksas grave as ever you see. He knows nothing of it; do tell him, mydear,” but she is wrong as usual; Colonel Brandon has already heardthat Willoughby will marry Miss Grey (SS, p. 225). Later Mrs. Jenningsstealthily observes Colonel Brandon talking quietly with Elinor: “shecould not keep herself from seeing that Elinor changed colour, attendedwith agitation, and was too intent on what he said, to pursue her employment.. . . [S]ome words of the Colonel’s inevitably reached herear, in which he seemed to be apologizing for the badness of his house.This set the matter beyond a doubt” (SS, p. 318). But instead of offeringmarriage, Colonel Brandon is merely talking to Elinor about offering a135

living to Edward Ferrars. After Mrs. Jennings finally understands afterElinor’s explanation, her misunderstanding provides “considerableamusement for the moment, without any material loss of happinessto either, for Mrs. Jennings only exchanged one form of delight foranother, and still without forfeiting her expectation of the first” (SS,p. 331). Even proved wrong, Mrs. Jennings persists in supposing thatElinor and Colonel Brandon will marry.When Elizabeth refuses his proposal, Mr. Collins, thinking himselfexpert in the strategies of women, similarly persists: “I am not nowto learn . . . that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addressesof the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first appliesfor their favour” (PP, p. 120). “[S]truck with the action of doing avery gallant thing,” Sir William Lucas tries and fails to get Elizabethand Mr. Darcy to dance together (PP, p. 28). When they do dancetogether on another occasion, Sir William thinks himself clever whenhe says to them, “I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated,especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza, (glancing ather sister and Bingley,) shall take place” (PP, p. 104). Mr. Darcy readsSir William’s glance, and realizing now that his friend Mr. Bingley is inreal danger of marrying Jane, persuades Mr. Bingley against it, whichin turn makes Elizabeth despise him. Sir William’s plan backfires, andindeed having a plan backfire demonstrates your strategic ineptitudebetter than having no plan at all. After Mr. Darcy proposes for thesecond time and Elizabeth accepts, he and Mr. Bingley visit the Bennetsand Mrs. Bennet exclaims, “Good gracious! . . . if that disagreeableMr. Darcy is not coming here again with our dear Bingley! . . . Whatshall we do with him? Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, thathe may not be in Bingley’s way. Elizabeth could hardly help laughingat so convenient a proposal” and on their walk together, Elizabethand Mr. Darcy strategize about how to tell her parents about theirengagement (PP, p. 415).Strategic sophomores take pride in the trivial. When Mrs. Allensays that Henry Tilney “is a very agreeable young man,” Mrs. Thorpereplies, “Indeed he is, Mrs. Allen . . . I must say it, though I am his mother,that there is not a more agreeable young man in the world.” Mrs. Allen136

is smart enough to figure it out, “for after only a moment’s consideration,she said, in a whisper to Catherine, ‘I dare say she thought I wasspeaking of her son’ ” (NA, p. 54). Lady Bertram is “struck with her ownkindness in sending Chapman,” her own maid, to help Fanny dress beforeher first ball, and even credits Henry Crawford’s proposal to heraction (“I shall tell Sir Thomas that I am sure it was done that evening”),even though Fanny emerged fully dressed before Mrs. Chapman cameup to her room (MP, p. 322, p. 384–385). Mrs. Norris suspects that DickJackson, who brings some boards to his father as the servants’ meal isstarting, has designs on a free meal, and takes pride in foiling him: “asI hate such encroaching people . . . I said to the boy directly—(a greatlubberly fellow of ten years old you know, who ought to be ashamedof himself,) I’ll take the boards to your father, Dick; so get you homeagain as fast as you can’ ” (MP, p. 167). Mrs. Norris, a moocher herself,is proud of besting a ten-year-old child. Similarly, one of CharlotteLucas’s younger brothers declares that “If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy.. . . I would . . . drink a bottle of wine a day.” Mrs. Bennet answers,“if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle directly” and“[t]he boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare thatshe would, and the argument ended only with the visit” (PP, p. 22).Mrs. Bennet is able to fight to a draw with a child. Before Jane Fairfax’sengagement with Frank Churchill is made public, Mrs. Elton is veryproud to be in on the secret; when Emma visits Jane, she sees Mrs. Elton“with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which shehad apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax. . . . ‘I mentionedno names, you will observe.—Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. Imanaged it extremely well.’ . . . It was a palpable display, repeated onevery possible occasion” (E, p. 495). Mrs. Elton is not more ridiculousthan Emma herself, when, eager for validation and praise, she cannothelp but let Frank Churchill in on her arch speculation that Mr. Dixonwas Jane Fairfax’s secret lover: “it had been so strong an idea, that itwould escape her, and his submission to all that she told, was a complimentto her penetration” (E, p. 249). At least Emma upon marriagetries to graduate from the sophomoric, while Mrs. Elton remains.137

Eyes“Penetration” and “foresight” involve vision, but eyes reveal aswell as detect preferences. Mrs. Jennings thinks that Colonel Brandonis interested in Elinor because of “his open pleasure in meeting her afteran absence of only ten days, his readiness to converse with her, and hisdeference for her opinion” (SS, pp. 345–346). But Elinor “watched hiseyes, while Mrs. Jennings thought only of his behaviour;—and whilehis looks of anxious solicitude on Marianne’s feeling, in her head andthroat, the beginning of a heavy cold, because unexpressed by words,entirely escaped the latter lady’s observation;—she could discover inthem the quick feelings, and needless alarm of a lover” (SS, p. 346).Eyes speak louder than behavior or words. Upon Catherine’s arrival atNorthanger Abbey, General Tilney asks whether she would like to seethe house or the grounds first. Even though Catherine is anxious to seethe house, “he certainly read in Miss Morland’s eyes a judicious desireof making use of the present smiling weather” (NA, p. 181). GeneralTilney is bad at reading eyes and Catherine begins to suspect him ofhiding something in the house. Similarly, when Sir William Lucascompliments Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy on their dancing, he says, “Youwill not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converseof that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me,” butElizabeth dislikes Mr. Darcy and had only agreed to dance because hetook her by surprise. In contrast, at Fanny’s first ball, Lady Bertramand Mrs. Norris ascribe her good looks to her dress, but Sir Thomasknows the true estimation of her beauty: “when they sat down to tablethe eyes of the two young men assured him” (MP, p. 316). Edmundcan tell from Fanny’s eyes how little she likes Henry Crawford and hisproposal: “Fanny was worth it all . . . but he did not think he couldhave gone on himself with any woman breathing, without somethingmore to warm his courage than his eyes could discern in hers” (MP,p. 388). Mr. Knightley is the look-reading specialist: his suspicion thatFrank Churchill admires Jane Fairfax and not Emma starts when “hehad seen a look, more than a single look, at Miss Fairfax, which, fromthe admirer of Miss Woodhouse, seemed somewhat out of place” (E,138

p. 373). Mr. Knightley “suspected in Frank Churchill the determinationof catching her eye” and later positions himself “to see as much as hecould, with as little apparent observation” (E, pp. 376, 377).Looking at someone’s eyes is powerfully informative but Austenadmits its limitations. The day after Anne talks with Captain Wentworthat the concert in Bath, her friend Mrs. Smith tells her, “You neednot tell me that you had a pleasant evening. I see it in your eye. . .. Your countenance perfectly informs me that you were in companylast night with the person, whom you think the most agreeable in theworld.” Anne blushes “in the astonishment and confusion excited byher friend’s penetration, unable to imagine how any report of CaptainWentworth could have reached her” (P, p. 210). Mrs. Smith mistakenlythinks that Mr. Elliot is the agreeable person; seeing Anne’s eye,Mrs. Smith is completely correct about Anne’s feelings, but wrongabout their object. When Colonel Brandon visits Marianne while sheis ill, Elinor “soon discovered in his melancholy eye and varying complexionas he looked at her sister, the probable recurrence of many pastscenes of misery to his mind, brought back by that resemblance betweenMarianne and Eliza already acknowledged, and now strengthened bythe hollow eye, the sickly skin, the posture of reclining weakness” (SS,p. 385). Eliza was an orphan and Colonel Brandon’s first love when theywere both children. Her guardian, Colonel Brandon’s father, forced herto marry Colonel Brandon’s brother, who did not love her, and after herdivorce she fell into poverty and illness; Colonel Brandon had takencare of her in her last days of life. Colonel Brandon had told Elinor thisstory in order to better explain Willoughby’s character: Willoughbyhad seduced Eliza’s daughter, also named Eliza, and had fathered abastard son with her. Elinor reads Colonel Brandon’s melancholy eye,but her deeper understanding of his mind is based on knowledge ofhis past experiences. In contrast, “Mrs. Dashwood, not less watchfulof what passed than her daughter, but with a mind very differently influenced,and therefore watching to very different effect, saw nothingin the Colonel’s behaviour but what arose from the most simple andself-evident sensations” (SS, p. 385–386). Mrs. Dashwood can read eyesas well as Elinor can, but does not know the back story.139

9Austen’s competing modelsAusten’s emphasis on choice and strategic thinking does not keepher from considering competing models of human behavior; she acknowledgestheir relevance while maintaining a game-theoretic worldview overall. Austen, much more than most game theorists, showshow strategic thinking is not best understood in isolation. By exploringhow competing models are distinct from but interestingly interactwith strategic thinking, we gain a richer understanding.EmotionsOne competing model focuses on people’s emotions. Austen acknowledgesthat emotions can make a person make bad decisions.For example, the jealous Caroline Bingley remarks to Mr. Darcy thatElizabeth’s eyes have “a sharp, shrewish look,” but this only makeshim reply that Elizabeth is “one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance”(PP, pp. 299, 300). Thus “Miss Bingley was left to all thesatisfaction of having forced him to say what gave no one any painbut herself” (PP, p. 300). Influenced by emotion, Miss Bingley does notthink her plan through and it backfires: “angry people are not alwayswise” (PP, p. 299).But Austen’s heroines, even when overwhelmed by emotions,make good choices. They choose well in terms of both result andprocess, using “good sense.” Their emotions do not hinder as muchas drive their decisions; emotion can sharpen decision making as wellas cloud it. After Edmund Bertram gives Fanny the gold chain as “atoken of the love of one of your oldest friends,” he starts to walk away(MP, p. 303). Fanny, not wanting the moment to end, “overpowered by140

a thousand feelings of pain and pleasure, could attempt to speak; butquickened by one sovereign wish she then called out, ‘Oh! cousin, stopa moment, pray stop’ ” (MP, p. 304). Her feelings overpower her buther wish is sovereign. Similarly, when Henry Crawford unexpectedlyshows up at Fanny’s house at Portsmouth, “[g]ood sense, like hers, willalways act when really called upon” (MP, p. 463). A petrified Fannymanages to introduce him to her mother as a friend of her brotherWilliam’s, not as someone who is seeking her hand, even though “theterrors that occurred of what this visit might lead to were overpowering,and she fancied herself on the point of fainting away” (MP, p. 464).When Mr. Knightley confesses his love to Emma, “the expression ofhis eyes overpowered her” and she is “almost ready to sink under theagitation of this moment” (E, pp. 468, 469). But “[w]hile he spoke,Emma’s mind was most busy, and, with all the wonderful velocity ofthought, had been able—and yet without losing a word—to catch andcomprehend the exact truth of the whole; to see that . . . Harriet wasnothing; that she was every thing herself” (E, p. 469). Emma’s feelingsdo not hinder but increase the velocity of her cognition.When Lucy Steele tells Elinor that she is secretly engaged to EdwardFerrars, Elinor’s “security sunk; but her self-command did notsink with it” (SS, p. 151). Later, when Elinor reveals this to Marianne,who has been moaning over Willoughby, Marianne emotes, “How barbaroushave I been to you!—you, who have been my only comfort,who have borne with me in all my misery, who have seemed to beonly suffering for me!” (SS, p. 299). “[T]enderest caresses followed thisconfession,” and the emotion of this moment is no less strong for beingtender instead of overpowering (SS, p. 300). But Elinor knows thatthis is exactly the right moment to make her sister promise to behave:“In such a frame of mind as she was now in, Elinor had no difficultyin obtaining from her whatever promise she required; and at her request,Marianne engaged never to speak of the affair to any one withthe least appearance of bitterness” (SS, p. 300). When Marianne “withfeverish wildness” calls out for her mother, Elinor’s “alarm increasedso rapidly, as to determine her on sending instantly for Mr. Harris, and141

dispatching a messenger to Barton for her mother” (SS, p. 351). Mariannehad been wanting to go home for weeks, and had been sick forseveral days with Elinor passively trusting in rest and the apothecary.Elinor’s feeling of alarm is what finally kicks her into decisive action.Mrs. Dashwood is usually as emotionally demonstrative as Marianne,and when she arrives Elinor worries that she will make the most of theopportunity and disturb Marianne’s sleep, but even Mrs. Dashwood“could be calm, could be even prudent, when the life of a child was atstake” (SS, p. 378).When talking with Captain Wentworth, Anne “was struck, gratified,confused, and beginning to breathe very quick, and feel an hundredthings in a moment. It was impossible for her to enter on such asubject” (P, p. 199). Captain Wentworth cannot understand how CaptainBenwick could transfer his affection so easily to Louisa from hislate fiancée Fanny Harville: “A man does not recover from such a devotionof the heart to such a woman!—He ought not—he does not.”His warm expression of the constancy of a man’s devotion cuts tooclose; Anne cannot address it directly, but does not want to change thesubject completely. Burdened by a hundred feelings, she is still ableto think quickly and thus “only deviated so far as to say—‘You werea good while at Lyme, I think?’ ” (P, p. 199). Of course, as discussedearlier, Anne’s ability to think strategically under intense emotionalstrain is demonstrated by her skillful emergency dispatch at Lyme andher contingency planning, even while overpowered by Captain Wentworth’sletter, to ensure that she will see him again. After GeneralTilney kicks out Catherine Morland from Northanger Abbey for notbeing an heiress, Catherine and Elizabeth Tilney share “a long and affectionateembrace [which] supplied the place of language in biddingeach other adieu,” but the intense sadness and awkwardness of thismoment does not keep Catherine from trying to maintain contact withher object Henry Tilney: “with quivering lips [she] just made it intelligiblethat she left ‘her kind remembrance for her absent friend’ ” (NA,p. 237). Mr. Darcy recalls that after Elizabeth had refused his proposal,“I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take a properdirection” (PP, p. 410). His anger does not interfere with but rather142

ecomes purposeful action. Finally, after Edmund says goodbye toMary Crawford for the last time and walks away, Mary calls out to himwith a “saucy playful smile, seeming to invite, in order to subdue me,”but as Edmund later tells Fanny, “I resisted; it was the impulse of themoment to resist, and still walked on. I have since—sometimes—for amoment—regretted that I did not go back; but I know I was right” (MP,p. 531). An impulsive feeling can help you make the right choice.By the way, just as intense emotion does not necessarily lead to poorchoices, calmness does not necessarily lead to good ones; for example,Elinor observes that Lady Middleton’s “reserve was a mere calmnessof manner with which sense had nothing to do” (SS, p. 65). Peoplewho lack true feeling tend to be bad, not good, at strategic thinking.When Mrs. Norris’s husband dies, she “consoled herself for the loss ofher husband by considering that she could do very well without him”(MP, p. 26), and when Maria Bertram weds, “her mother stood withsalts in her hand, expecting to be agitated—her aunt tried to cry” (MP,p. 237). Lady Bertram through inexertion and Mrs. Norris through amore active ignorance lack both feelings and strategic sense.Emotions can affect people’s choices, but people can also strategicallymanage their emotions. The simplest way is to take some timeout. After Edward Ferrars tells the Dashwoods that Lucy Steele hasmarried his brother and not him, he sees Elinor run out of the room intears, and thus falls into a reverie; “without saying a word, [he] quittedthe room, and walked out towards the village——leaving the others inthe greatest astonishment” (SS, p. 408). He takes a few hours, and having“walked himself into the proper resolution,” is able to return andpropose to Elinor (SS, p. 409). Similarly, when Henry Tilney confrontshis father about his mistreatment of Catherine, “[t]he general was furiousin his anger, and they parted in dreadful disagreement. Henry,in an agitation of mind which many solitary hours were required tocompose,” decides to travel the next day to the Morland home to apologizeand propose (NA, p. 257). When Edmund tells Fanny that she isone of “the two dearest objects I have on earth,” Fanny tries “to tranquilliseherself as she could,” by repeating to herself that even if MaryCrawford is first in his affections, she herself is second (MP, p. 306). She143

tells herself that she only wishes that Edmund could see Mary’s faultsas clearly as she can; Fanny does not dare think she might deservehim herself. But all this reasoning is not enough, so in addition Fannymoons over the handwritten note Edmund has just left for her. Finally,“[h]aving regulated her thoughts and comforted her feelings by thishappy mixture of reason and weakness, she was able, in due time, togo down and resume her usual employments” (MP, p. 308).If any actions are directly caused by emotions, examples wouldinclude responses such as blushing, commonly understood as an autonomicresponse to feelings such as embarrassment: when Elizabethand Mr. Darcy meet unexpectedly at Pemberley, “[t]heir eyes instantlymet, and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest blush”(PP, p. 278). Because it is presumably unwilled, blushing is supposedto provide a clear window into a person’s feelings; for example, whenHenry Crawford reads Shakespeare aloud, Fanny tries hard to ignorehim but cannot, and her reaction, “blushing and working as hard asever” on her needlework, “had been enough to give Edmund encouragementfor his friend” (MP, p. 390).But even blushing is sometimes understood by Austen as partlya matter of choice. For example, James Morland is dumped by hisfiancée Isabella Thorpe and writes to his sister Catherine, closing withthe line, “Dearest Catherine, beware how you give your heart” (NA,p. 208). Catherine is distraught and a concerned Henry Tilney wants toknow why; Catherine almost hands the letter to him so he can read ithimself, but hesitates, “recollecting with a blush the last line.” Henrysuggests that Catherine might read aloud only the sections which arenot private, but Catherine reconsiders: “ ‘No, read it yourself,’ criedCatherine, whose second thoughts were clearer. ‘I do not know whatI was thinking of,’ (blushing again that she had blushed before,)—‘James only means to give me good advice’ ” (NA, p. 210). Catherinefirst blushes because she thinks that Henry might think she intendsto suggest something by handing him a letter in which her heart ismentioned; by blushing, her innocence is made evident. But thinkingagain, Catherine is embarrassed that the need to blush had even occurredto her; an entirely innocent young woman would never have144

thought it possible to use a brother’s advice to flirt. Instead of blushingfor blushing, Catherine would rather not have blushed in the firstplace. Catherine’s first blush might be explained by her emotion ofembarrassment. Her second blush might be similarly explained, eventhough a cognitive element must be included, her figuring out that herfirst blush is itself cause for embarrassment. But her second blush,and at the very least her saying out loud, “I do not know what I wasthinking of,” can also be explained as a conscious choice to “undo” herfirst blush.InstinctsAnother competing model is that people’s actions are determinedby drives or instincts, not choices. For example, when Henry Crawfordis introduced to Fanny’s father, Mr. Price becomes “a very differentman. . . . His manners now, though not polished, were more than passable.. . . Such was his instinctive compliment to the good manners ofMr. Crawford” (MP, p. 467). Mr. Price does not consciously choose tostop swearing for example, and might not even be aware that he ischanging his behavior; rather, he changes “instinctively” to meet thedemands of the situation. Austen provides other examples relating topoliteness and social presentation. When Mr. Darcy hands Elizabetha letter answering the charges she leveled in refusing his proposal,“she instinctively took” it, and when he greets her later at Pemberley,Elizabeth, embarrassed, “instinctively turned away” (PP, pp. 218, 278).Hiding can also be instinctive, as when Mrs. Norris, with “instinctivecaution . . . whisked away Mr. Rushworth’s pink satin cloak,” hisLovers’ Vows costume, when Sir Thomas returns (MP, p. 210). WhenCatherine is exploring the hidden parts of Northanger Abbey, “[a]nattempt at concealment had been her first instinctive movement onperceiving” General Tilney (NA, p. 197).But Austen is skeptical of instinct, especially for more importantmatters. Fanny is invited by Mrs. Grant to dine at the parsonage, andwhen Edmund tells Fanny that he has successfully convinced LadyBertram to allow her to go, “ ‘Thank you, I am so glad,’ was Fanny’s145

instinctive reply; though when she had turned from him and shut thedoor, she could not help feeling, ‘And yet why should I be glad? foram I not certain of seeing or hearing something there to pain me?’ ”(MP, p. 256). Fanny instinctively thanks Edmund even though at dinnershe will painfully observe Edmund and her rival Mary Crawfordtogether. The maternal instinct is presumably one of the strongest, butwhen Fanny returns home to her mother after several years, she is disappointedat how little attention she receives: “the instinct of naturewas soon satisfied, and Mrs. Price’s attachment had no other source.. . . [S]he had neither leisure nor affection to bestow on Fanny” (MP,p. 450). At Fanny’s home in Portsmouth, her father asks whether thenewspaper story he reads about a Mrs. R running off with a Mr. Ccould be about Fanny’s cousin, and Fanny denies it “from the instinctivewish of delaying shame,” which is useless since she already knowsthat it must be true, given the letter she had just received from MaryCrawford imploring her to not believe rumors about her brother (MP,p. 509). Before Emma meets Frank Churchill, “her own imaginationhad already given her such instinctive knowledge,” but of course mostof what she thinks about Frank Churchill turns out to be wrong (E,p. 131). Walking together down the street in Bath, Anne worries abouthow Lady Russell will react when she sees Captain Wentworth for thefirst time in several years. As Captain Wentworth approaches amonga crowd, Anne “looked instinctively at Lady Russell; . . . from time totime, anxiously; and . . . she was yet perfectly conscious of Lady Russell’seyes being turned exactly in the direction for him, of her being inshort intently observing him” (P, p. 194). But Lady Russell was onlylooking intently at some window curtains, and Anne’s instinct failsher: “in all this waste of foresight and caution, she . . . lost the rightmoment for seeing whether he saw them” (P, p. 195). More positively,when Louisa Musgrove falls unconscious at Lyme, “Anne, attendingwith all the strength and zeal, and thought, which instinct supplied, toHenrietta, still tried, at intervals, to suggest comfort to the others” (P,p. 119). Here instinct helps not by directly causing any particular actionbut by supplying capacity: strength, zeal, and most of all, thought.146

HabitsAnother competing model is behavior based on habits, not choices.Austen acknowledges that habits can affect behavior, but she does notlike them. Most habits in Austen’s novels are bad. The most commonlymentioned habits are habits of overconsumption, selfishness, and carelessness.To explain his marriage to the wealthy Miss Grey, Willoughbytells Elinor that “I had always been expensive, always in the habit ofassociating with people of better income than myself,” and Elinor reflectson his “habits of idleness, dissipation, and luxury” (SS, pp. 363,375). Similarly, Colonel Fitzwilliam tells Elizabeth that as a youngerson, “[o]ur habits of expence make us too dependant, and there are notmany in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attentionto money” (PP, p. 206). Edmund Bertram worries whether MaryCrawford’s habits will keep her from accepting his proposal: “I haveno jealousy of any individual. . . . It is the habits of wealth that I fear”(MP, p. 489). Miss Bingley and her sister are “in the habit of spendingmore than they ought” (PP, p. 16), Mr. Yates “had not much to recommendhim beyond habits of fashion and expense” (MP, p. 142), andTom Bertram recovers from his illness “without regaining the thoughtlessnessand selfishness of his previous habits” (MP, p. 534). Mr. Smith,the husband of Anne’s impoverished friend Mrs. Smith, had “carelesshabits” and was financially ruined by his friendship with Mr. Elliot,who had “bad habits” and was “careless in all serious matters” (P,pp. 226, 174). Even Mr. Woodhouse’s endearing but somewhat annoyingobsession with his own health and family circle are due to “hishabits of gentle selfishness” (E, p. 6), and similarly Anne’s hypochondriacsister Mary Musgrove is “always in the habit of claiming Annewhen any thing was the matter” (P, p. 35).There are some good habits. Admiral and Mrs. Croft “broughtwith them their country habit of being almost always together” (P,p. 182). Louisa and Henrietta Musgrove are also always together, andAnne admires “the sort of necessity which the family-habits seemedto produce, of every thing being to be communicated, and everythingbeing to be done together” (P, p. 89); the closest thing Anne and her147

sister Mary have is the “habit of running in and out of each other’s houseat all hours” (P, p. 39). Sir Thomas has “correctly punctual habits” (MP,p. 259), Emma’s sister Isabella and her father share “a strong habit ofregard for every old acquaintance” (E, p. 100), and Emma appreciates“the strong domestic habits, the all-sufficiency of home to himself”of her brother-in-law Mr. John Knightley, even though he thereforedislikes parties (E, p. 104). Henry Tilney jokes that as a young womanCatherine must have a “delightful habit of journalizing” (NA, p. 19).But these good habits have little of the power of the bad ones, and donot help people nearly to the degree that the bad ones drag them down,into for example illness, financial ruin, or marrying without love.The habits which are most relevant, which directly affect the lifecourses of our heroines, are either painful encumbrances or borderlineevil. After Anne and Captain Wentworth finally understand each other,Captain Wentworth admits how discouraged he was by his memories ofbeing rejected eight years ago. Anne says that he should have realizedhow much older she is now and how different the current situation is,but Captain Wentworth explains, “I could not derive benefit from thelate knowledge I had acquired of your character. I could not bring itinto play: it was overwhelmed, buried, lost in those earlier feelingswhich I had been smarting under year after year. . . . The force ofhabit was to be added” (P, p. 266). Bad habits figure prominently inMansfield Park. When Tom Bertram tells Fanny that they need herservices (to play Cottager’s Wife), she “was up in a moment, expectingsome errand, for the habit of employing her in that way was not yetovercome, in spite of all that Edmund could do” (MP, p. 171). AfterHenry Crawford’s proposal, Fanny strenuously avoids Mary Crawford,but when Mary asks to speak with her alone, Fanny’s “habits of readysubmission . . . made her almost instantly rise and lead the way outof the room. She did it with wretched feelings, but it was inevitable”(MP, p. 412). Habits make Fanny submissive and miserable and mustbe overcome. Henry Crawford had proposed to Fanny immediatelyafter telling her that he helped get her brother William promoted, aquid pro quo which disgusts Fanny: “such were his habits, that hecould do nothing without a mixture of evil” (MP, p. 350). Habit is also148

esponsible for finally sinking Mary Crawford in Edmund’s opinion;after Henry Crawford runs off with Mrs. Maria Rushworth, Edmund isstunned that Mary thinks their action only indiscreet, not immoral, andtells Mary so. Edmund glimpses a brief moment of moral awareness,only to watch her pulled back down by her habits: “I imagined I saw amixture of many feelings—a great, though short struggle—half a wishof yielding to truths, half a sense of shame—but habit, habit carried it. .. . It was a sort of laugh, as she answered, ’A pretty good lecture, uponmy word. Was it part of your last sermon?’ ” (MP, p. 530).For Austen, habits and rational choice are not necessarily opposed.Habit can provide the resolution necessary to make a choice: Emmathinks that Frank Churchill cannot easily come away to visit them becauseof “habits of early obedience” to the Churchills, but Mr. Knightleymaintains: “It ought to have been an habit with him by this time, offollowing his duty, instead of consulting expediency” (E, p. 159). Similarly,when Harriet continues to pine over Mr. Elton, even as he is aboutto marry another, Emma wishes that Harriet would have greater “habitof self-command” (E, p. 288). Also, to some degree you can choose yourhabits (later we discuss strategizing about yourself); not surprisingly,people with bad habits, such as Mary Crawford, tend not to be goodstrategists.Twice Austen allows habit and rational choice to both be relevantin an explanation, and both times rational choice is found more important.Edmund goes away for three weeks, and “[w]hat was tranquillityand comfort to Fanny was tediousness and vexation to Mary. Somethingarose from difference of disposition and habit—one so easilysatisfied, the other so unused to endure; but still more might be imputedto difference of circumstances. In some points of interest theywere exactly opposed to each other” (MP, p. 331). Mary is worriedthat she had spoken so mockingly about the clergy and that Edmundmight be meeting other attractive women; Fanny is merely gratefulfor any delay of progress between the two. Habit explains some ofthe difference between Mary’s and Fanny’s feelings, but the differencein their objectives and preferences, their “points of interest,” explainsmore. Similarly, Jane Fairfax tries to change the subject away from149

her morning visits to the post office by remarking on the reliability ofthe postal service: “So seldom that a letter, among the thousands thatare constantly passing about the kingdom, is even carried wrong—andnot one in a million, I suppose, actually lost!” Mr. John Knightleyagrees: “the clerks grow expert from habit.—They must begin withsome quickness of sight and hand, and exercise improves them. If youwant any farther explanation . . . they are paid for it. That is the key toa great deal of capacity. The public pays and must be served well” (E,p. 320). Habit is important for the clerks’ reliability, but the underlyingexplanation is that they want to get paid. As Guenter Treitel pointsout to me, Austen must establish the reliability of the postal service sothat later Jane Fairfax, having written Frank Churchill and receivingno response, can therefore conclude that Frank does not care, becausehis reply could not possibly have been delayed or lost in the mail. Butnothing in the plot turns on the specific explanation for postal servicereliability; Mr. John Knightley’s favoring of habit over rational choicebetrays Austen’s theoretical stance.Similarly, Edmund thinks that Fanny refuses Henry Crawford becauseshe is “of all human creatures the one, over whom habit hadmost power, and novelty least: and that the very circumstance of thenovelty of Crawford’s addresses was against him” (MP, p. 409). ButEdmund is completely wrong. Fanny does not like Henry Crawford.Fanny refuses him because of her preferences, not her habits.RulesAnother competing model is that people base their actions on rulesor principles, such as “only buy shoes on sale.” One reason for using arule is to avoid the cognitive difficulties of making a choice. For example,Henry and Mary Crawford offer to pick up Fanny from Portsmouthand return her to Mansfield Park, but Fanny knows that the terms ofher conveyance are up to Sir Thomas. Fanny weighs the pros and cons:returning to Mansfield “was an image of the greatest felicity—but itwould have been a material drawback, to be owing such felicity to personsin whose feelings and conduct, at the present moment, she saw150

so much to condemn” (MP, p. 504). Fanny is not even sure that sheis capable of “judging impartially,” given her aversion to any schemewhich allows Mary Crawford to come to Mansfield and thereby seeEdward again (MP, p. 504). But Fanny has a rule: “Happily, however,she was not left to weigh and decide between opposite inclinations anddoubtful notions of right; there was no occasion to determine, whethershe ought to keep Edmund and Mary asunder or not. She had a ruleto apply to, which settled every thing. Her awe of her uncle, and herdread of taking a liberty with him, made it instantly plain to her, whatshe had to do. She must absolutely decline the proposal” (MP, p. 505).The rule of not taking liberties with Sir Thomas makes things easy;Fanny does not have to weigh her own preferences and choose herself.A rule or principle can be a moral imperative, a requirement ofproper conduct, or simply a useful guideline. Elinor suffers alone withthe secret of Lucy Steele’s engagement to Edward Ferrars because shemade a promise: “she was firmly resolved to act by her as every principleof honour and honesty directed” (SS, p. 163). Keeping a promise isa moral imperative. Once the engagement becomes public, Elinor doesher best to not talk about it: “Elinor avoided it upon principle, as tendingto fix still more upon her thoughts, by the too warm, too positiveassurances of Marianne, that belief of Edward’s continued affection forherself which she rather wished to do away” (SS, p. 306). By avoidingthe subject on principle, Elinor protects her heart from Marianne’s suggestionsthat Edward really loves her instead. This principle is not amoral imperative, just a good idea. Fanny’s rule above of leaving herreturn up to her uncle is somewhere between the two: respecting heruncle is virtuous but not quite a moral imperative, and it is also justa good idea not to cross him. Similarly, Catherine Morland’s parentswant to approve her marriage to Henry Tilney, “but their principleswere steady, and while his parent so expressly forbad the connection,they could not allow themselves to encourage it” (NA, p. 258). Waitingfor General Tilney to approve before giving their own approval is not amoral imperative, but is consistent with proper conduct and good forthe two families’ future harmony.151

Principles and rules are important to Austen, and people are oftencondemned for having poor or nonexisting ones. For example,Edmund Bertram says that Mary Crawford’s faults “are faults of principle,Fanny, of blunted delicacy and a corrupted, vitiated mind” (MP,p. 528). Principle is often understood as governing and steadying aperson’s motivations; for example, Sir Thomas, contemplating his poorparenting of his daughters, recognizes that “principle, active principle,had been wanting, that they had never been properly taught to governtheir inclinations and tempers” (MP, p. 536).But the relationship between principles and choices is not so simple.For example, Mrs. Norris’s miserliness, an “infatuating principle”in which she takes pride, began because of her husband’s low income,but with no children of her own, “what was begun as a matter of prudence,soon grew into a matter of choice” (MP, p. 9). A principle cangovern choice, but one can also choose one’s principles.Also, a principle can heighten as well as moderate preferences.When Sir Thomas notices that Fanny’s room does not have a fire, heexplains that Mrs. Norris has a principle of “moderation in every thing.. . . The principle was good in itself, but it may have been, and I believehas been carried too far in your case. . . . Though their caution may proveeventually unnecessary, it was kindly meant; and of this you may beassured, that every advantage of affluence will be doubled by the littleprivations and restrictions that may have been imposed” (MP, p. 361).Here a principle increases Fanny’s consumer satisfaction later in life; ifprinciple is a satisfaction governor, it can also be a satisfaction doubler.Fanny vows to “overcome all that was excessive, all that bordered onselfishness in her affection for Edmund. . . . She would endeavourto be rational, and to deserve the right of judging of Miss Crawford’scharacter and the privilege of true solicitude for him by a sound intellectand an honest heart. She had all the heroism of principle.” By followingprinciples, Fanny wants to be unselfish and fair to Edmund and alsoprotect her own heart. But “after making all these good resolutionson the side of self-government, she seized the scrap of paper on whichEdmund had begun writing to her, as a treasure beyond all her hopes. .. . The enthusiasm of a woman’s love is even beyond the biographer’s”152

(MP, pp. 307–308). Like a person who after exercising feels entitledto extra dessert (Cloud 2009), Fanny’s principles do not govern butintensify her desire.Sometimes a rule or principle is just a cover for going ahead anddoing what you want anyhow. For example, Mrs. Musgrove, Anne’ssister’s mother-in-law, says, “I make a rule of never interfering in any ofmy daughter-in-law’s concerns, for I know it would not do; but I shalltell you, Miss Anne, because you may be able to set things to rights,that I have no very good opinion of Mrs. Charles’s nursery-maid. . . .[I]f you see anything amiss, you need not be afraid of mentioning it”(P, p. 49). After strenuous attempts to persuade Fanny to accept HenryCrawford, “Sir Thomas resolved to abstain from all farther importunitywith his niece, and to shew no open interference. . . . Accordingly, onthis principle Sir Thomas took the first opportunity of saying to her,. . . ‘You cannot suppose me capable of trying to persuade you tomarry against your inclinations’ ” (MP, pp. 380–381). But Sir Thomassoon sends Fanny to Portsmouth to make her change her mind. Asfor Lady Bertram, the “only rule of conduct, the only piece of advice,which Fanny had ever received from her aunt” was “that it is everyyoung woman’s duty to accept such a very unexceptionable offer as”Henry Crawford’s proposal (MP, p. 384). The seriousness of this ruleis indicated by Lady Bertram’s offering a puppy to Fanny to tip thebalance in favor of Henry. Talking with Catherine about men, IsabellaThorpe declares, “I make it a rule never to mind what they say. Theyare very often amazingly impertinent,” only to later welcome CaptainTilney’s impertinent flirting (NA, p. 35). General Tilney says, “it is a rulewith me, Miss Morland, never to give offence to any of my neighbours,if a small sacrifice of time and attention can prevent it,” not long beforekicking Catherine out (NA, p. 216). Emma tells Harriet, “I lay it downas a general rule, Harriet, that if a woman doubts as to whether sheshould accept a man or not, she certainly ought to refuse him,” butof course this is merely a ploy to make Harriet reject Mr. Martin’sproposal (E, p. 55). Elinor tells Marianne that for Willoughby, “[h]isown enjoyment, or his own ease, was, in every particular, his rulingprinciple” (SS, p. 398), and similarly Anne concludes that “Mr. Elliot .153

. . has never had any better principle to guide him than selfishness” (P,p. 225).Social factorsAnother set of competing considerations are social factors such asenvy, pride, distinction, duty, honor, and decorum, as well as a hostof other social norms. These factors are often considered as opposingthe utility maximization model, but they can be brought in as part ofa person’s preferences. For example, Mrs. Price, Fanny’s mother, hadmarried badly and after being condemned by her sister Mrs. Norris,no longer spoke to her sisters. “By the end of eleven years, however,Mrs. Price could no longer afford to cherish pride or resentment,or to lose one connection that might possibly assist her” (MP, p. 5).Mrs. Price’s pride had kept her from choosing to contact her sisters,but eventually a low income, disabled husband, and ninth child wasenough motivation to outweigh it. For another example, after JohnThorpe tries to trick Catherine into riding with them to Blaize Castle,“her own gratification . . . might have been ensured in some degreeby the excursion itself,” but Catherine chooses to keep her engagementwith the Tilneys because “what was due to others, and to her own characterin their opinion” outweighs her own gratification (NA, p. 102). Inthis manner, social factors such as pride and obligation are factors in aperson’s preferences commensurate with other factors such as financialneed and gratification.Austen often condemns these social factors. When Lady Catherinetries to force Elizabeth to promise to not marry Mr. Darcy, she threatens:“[H]onour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, MissBennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or friends,if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be censured,slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him. Your alliancewill be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned by any ofus” (PP, p. 394). Taking the gloves off, Lady Catherine admits that it allboils down to interest and that honour and decorum are mere coversfor hard-core social shunning, “relational aggression.”154

When Fanny refuses Henry Crawford’s proposal, people throwevery social factor they can think of at her. Mary Crawford appealsto social distinction, that Fanny has bested the many other womeninterested in Henry: “Oh! the envyings and heart-burnings of dozensand dozens! the wonder, the incredulity that will be felt at hearingwhat you have done! . . . [T]he glory of fixing one who has been shotat by so many” (MP, p. 416–419). Mary is also not above appealing toconformity: “It is you only, you, insensible Fanny, who can think of himwith any thing like indifference” (MP, p. 418). As mentioned earlier,Henry Crawford appeals to reciprocity by securing William Price’spromotion, and Lady Bertram appeals to duty. Sir Thomas lectures,“You do not owe me the duty of a child. But, Fanny, if your heart canacquit you of ingratitude,” making Fanny burst into tears (MP, p. 368).Against all these social factors, Fanny’s resolve is heroic. Even theindependent Emma, for example, hosts a dinner for the despised Eltonsonly because of social sanctions: “They must not do less than others,or she should be exposed to odious suspicions, and imagined capableof pitiful resentment” (E, p. 314). Social norms are often considered anecessary corrective to unbridled selfishness, but it is easy to be in favorof social norms when they are not stacked against you. Shouldn’t Fannybe able to make a “selfish,” “individualistic” choice about whether orwhom to marry? The idea that social factors are a bulwark againstcorrosive self-interest might be considered an affectation, even weapon,of the privileged.IdeologyAnother competing model states that social factors do not simplyaffect a person’s preferences, but rather create the entire ideologicalenvironment in which she makes a decision. For example, Fanny doesnot simply think about the costs and benefits of going against heruncle’s wishes; her decision of whether to accept Henry Crawfordmust be understood in the context of being a subservient niece whohas lived in his house for more than eight years. Your ideologicalenvironment can influence even what you think your own interests155

are, as in “false consciousness.” Scott (1990, p. 72) describes a “thick”version and “thin” version of how ideology affects a person’s values:“the thick version claims that a dominant ideology works its magic bypersuading subordinate groups to believe actively in the values thatexplain and justify their own subordination. . . . The thin theory . .. maintains only that the dominant ideology achieves compliance byconvincing subordinate groups that the social order in which they liveis natural and inevitable. The thick theory claims consent; the thintheory settles for resignation.”The closest Austen comes to addressing this issue is when Elinor,Marianne, and Edward Ferrars discuss how to best form opinions ofother people. Elinor often finds “people so much more gay or grave,or ingenious or stupid than they really are, and I can hardly tell why,or in what the deception originated. Sometimes one is guided bywhat they say of themselves, and very frequently by what other peoplesay of them, without giving oneself time to deliberate and judge.”Marianne teases, “But I thought it was right, Elinor . . . to be guidedwholly by the opinion of other people. I thought our judgments weregiven us merely to be subservient to those of our neighbours. Thishas always been your doctrine, I am sure.” Elinor then makes herdoctrine clear: “No, Marianne, never. My doctrine has never aimedat the subjection of the understanding. All I have ever attempted toinfluence has been the behaviour. . . . I am guilty, I confess, of havingoften wished you to treat our acquaintance in general with greaterattention; but when have I advised you to adopt their sentiments or toconform to their judgment in serious matters?” (SS, p. 108). This lightconversation becomes a general defense of independent thought and arejection of the thick theory of ideology. Others can affect your behaviorthrough norms of decorum for example, but you cannot allow them toaffect your judgment or thought processes. Marianne later appliesthis doctrine when Mrs. Dashwood tells her to stay longer in Londoneven though she longs to return home: “Marianne had promised tobe guided by her mother’s opinion, and she submitted to it thereforewithout opposition, though it proved perfectly different from what she156

wished and expected, though she felt it to be entirely wrong, formedon mistaken grounds” (SS, p. 243).According to Scott, there is little empirical support for either theoryof ideology, thick or thin, and the only reason we seem to observefalse consciousness is because oppressed people strategically keep theirheretical thoughts to themselves until they find the right opening.Fanny is well aware of the social norms which make a marriage betweenherself and Edmund inconceivable because of her disadvantagesof family and fortune, but she does not allow these strictures to limit herthought processes or change what she knows she wants, even thoughshe knows that they should: “To think of him as Miss Crawford mightbe justified in thinking, would in her be insanity. To her, he could benothing under any circumstances—nothing dearer than a friend. Whydid such an idea occur to her even enough to be reprobated and forbidden?It ought not to have touched on the confines of her imagination”(MP, p. 307). Ideology is no match for a woman’s love. Once MaryCrawford is out of the picture, Fanny has her opening.IntoxicationPeople are not always in control of themselves and can do randomand unpredictable things; this might be considered another competingmodel. But in Austen’s novels, even when a person makes a mistake,it is almost always consistent with her personality and values, suchas Emma’s glib insult toward Miss Bates and Catherine’s suspicionthat General Tilney murdered his wife. When Marianne bursts intotears on Elinor’s shoulder, “Colonel Brandon rose up and went to themwithout knowing what he did”; his action is probably not a consciouschoice but is consistent with his devotion to Marianne (SS, p. 269). Evenpeople under the influence of alcohol still behave intelligently and withcoherent purpose. When Mr. Elton proposes to Emma in the carriage, he“had only drunk wine enough to elevate his spirits, not at all to confusehis intellects” (E, p. 141). When Willoughby arrives unexpectedly toapologize to Marianne, Elinor thinks he is drunk, but “[t]he steadinessof his manner, and the intelligence of his eye as he spoke, convinc[es]157

Elinor, that whatever other unpardonable folly might bring him toCleveland, he was not brought there by intoxication” (SS, p. 361).The closest example of someone doing something completely unaccountableis when Elizabeth dances at the Netherfield ball: “Mr. Darcy. . . took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that,without knowing what she did, she accepted him” (PP, p. 101). Even inthis case, Elizabeth has a moment to reconsider before the dance starts,but consciously chooses to go ahead, prodded by Charlotte Lucas, whosensibly advises her “not to be a simpleton and allow her fancy forWickham to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man of tentimes his consequence” (PP, p. 102).ConstraintsFinally, Austen’s single young women, who have almost no economicindependence and no career path other than wife or governess,might seem so constrained that they hardly have choices at all. Inother words, another competing model is that a person’s constraints,not her choices, best explain her actions; for example, Duesenberry(1960, p. 233, quoted in Abbott 2004, p. 49) writes that “Economics is allabout how people make choices. Sociology is all about why they don’thave any choices to make.” Austen’s most direct response to this is apassage in which Fanny, having received Henry Crawford’s proposal,dreads speaking alone with his ally Mary Crawford. Fanny therefore“absented herself as little as possible from Lady Bertram, kept awayfrom the east room, and took no solitary walk in the shrubbery, in hercaution to avoid any sudden attack” (MP, p. 412). Fanny’s plan worksfor a while, but “Miss Crawford was not the slave of opportunity. Shewas determined to see Fanny alone, and therefore said to her tolerablysoon, in a low voice, ‘I must speak to you for a few minutes somewhere’” (MP, p. 412). No person, even the most constrained, mustremain a slave to given opportunities. Mary Crawford admittedly ismore independent than the submissive Fanny, who talks with Marybecause “[d]enial was impossible,” but even Fanny can execute thestrategy of avoiding being alone, which works to some degree (MP,158

p. 412). Perhaps the entire point of Mansfield Park is that even someoneas dependent as Fanny can learn strategic thinking and eke out spaceto maneuver. Some of Fanny’s stratagems are perhaps trivial, such asstaying close to Lady Bertram, but some are not. When Mary Crawfordwants to talk to her, Fanny avoids the shrubbery, but when Edmunddeclares that “I will take the first opportunity of speaking to her alone,”his father informs him that Fanny is “at that very time walking alonein the shrubbery” (MP, p. 400).In fact, social constraints can help you learn strategic thinking morequickly. As mentioned earlier, Fanny’s first manipulation is persuadingthe upset Mr. Rushworth, who has returned with the key to his gate,to go and join Maria Bertram and Henry Crawford even though theyalready left without him. Fanny acts because social decorum, everyonegetting along, requires it; had she not been constrained to act as a youngwoman is expected to act, she would not have had to figure out thatthe best way to make Mr. Rushworth move is to flatter him. Similarly,Elinor is socially constrained by her promise to not reveal Lucy’s secretengagement to Edward Ferrars. After the engagement is finally madepublic, Elinor explains to Marianne: “My promise to Lucy, obliged meto be secret. I owed it to her, therefore, to avoid giving any hint of thetruth; and I owed it to my family and friends, not to create in them asolicitude about me, which it could not be in my power to satisfy. . . . Ihave very often wished to undeceive yourself and my mother . . . andonce or twice I have attempted it;—but without betraying my trust, Inever could have convinced you. . . . The composure of mind with whichI have brought myself at present to consider the matter, the consolationthat I have been willing to admit, have been the effect of constant andpainful exertion;—they did not spring up of themselves” (SS, pp. 297–299). Elinor, considering what her mother and sister would do if theyknew, tries to keep them from sharing her unhappiness. Elinor tries tosolve the difficult puzzle of how to tell them without directly betrayingLucy, but in the end, reasoning strategically, concludes that withoutbreaking her promise outright they would not believe her. Constrainedto silence, Elinor had to call upon her deepest personal reserves of effortand exertion.159

10Austen on what strategic thinking is notAusten carefully distinguishes strategic thinking from conceptsoften associated or confused with it: selfishness, moralistic notions ofwhat a person “should” do, economistic values, and “competitiveness”in parlor games. These confusions often accompany discussions of rationalchoice theory and game theory, even today. Austen seeks conceptualclarity, as would any social theorist. But she wants to make particularlyclear that she is not advocating selfishness or money-centrism orone-upmanship or anything as vulgar as telling young women “howto behave.” Strategic thinking should not be confused with a set ofhackneyed attitudes and prescriptions.Strategic thinking is not selfishPerhaps the most common misconception is that strategic thinkingis equivalent to selfishness. Of course some people exemplifyboth strategicness and selfishness, such as Willoughby and Lucy Steele.But one can be strategic with benevolent intentions: for example, SirThomas sends Fanny to dreary Portsmouth to make her better appreciatethe material comforts of accepting Henry Crawford’s marriageproposal. Sir Thomas is “delighted with his own sagacity” in this plan,but genuinely, and not unreasonably, believes he is acting to advanceFanny’s happiness (MP, p. 449). One can also be selfish and a bad strategist:“cold hearted selfishness” and “a general want of understanding”are combined in Fanny Dashwood, whose mistakes include keepingElinor away from her brother Edward Ferrars by bringing in the moredangerous Lucy (SS, p. 261).Once she marries Robert Ferrars, Lucy is described as having “selfishsagacity,” not just “sagacity,” in flattering her way back into the160

favor of her mother-in-law Mrs. Ferrars (SS, p. 426). Sagacity in strategicthinking does not by itself imply selfishness. Similarly, Elinor callsLucy Steele “illiterate, artful, and selfish” (SS, p. 160) and Anne Elliotobserves to Mrs. Smith that “[t]he manoeuvres of selfishness andduplicity must ever be revolting” (P, p. 224); even though the terms“artful” and “manoeuvre” have a connotation of craftiness, they do notby themselves indicate selfishness. At Bath, Mrs. Clay and Mr. Elliotboth hover around Sir Walter’s household, with Mrs. Clay hoping tomarry Sir Walter and Mr. Elliot hoping to prevent it so he can becomehis heir. Mr. Elliot’s greater strategic sophistication implies a more complicated,not a greater, selfishness: “Mrs. Clay’s selfishness was not socomplicate nor so revolting as his; and Anne would have compoundedfor the marriage at once, with all its evils, to be clear of Mr. Elliot’ssubtleties, in endeavouring to prevent it” (P, p. 233). If anything, as discussedearlier, Austen associates selfishness not with strategic thinkingbut with habit, as in Dr. Grant’s “very faulty habit of self-indulgence”(MP, p. 130) and Henry Crawford’s “own habits of selfish indulgence”(MP, p. 275).Having goals and strategically working toward them does notmake one selfish or self-interested. The goal of Austen’s heroines isto marry, but sincere affection requires mutuality and is different fromself-interest. This is how Elinor evaluates Lucy’s engagement with EdwardFerrars: “he had not even the chance of being tolerably happyin marriage, which sincere affection on her side would have given, forself-interest alone could induce a woman to keep a man to an engagement,of which she seemed so thoroughly aware that he was weary”(SS, p. 173). Lucy Steele and Mrs. Clay differ from our heroines in theirgoals, not their strategic methods.Equating making one’s own choices with selfishness can simplybe a method of intimidation. Mrs. Norris complains that Fanny “likesto go her own way to work; she does not like to be dictated to; shetakes her own independent walk whenever she can; she certainly hasa little spirit of secrecy, and independence, and nonsense” (MP, p. 373).Mrs. Norris cannot stand Fanny making independent choices, evenover matters as trivial as when and where to take a walk. Hearing this,161

Sir Thomas “thought nothing could be more unjust, though he hadbeen so lately expressing the same sentiments himself” in his pushingFanny to accept Henry Crawford (MP, p. 373). When Elizabeth refusesto promise to never enter in an engagement with Mr. Darcy, LadyCatherine cries, “Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that aconnection with you, must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody” (PP,p. 396). For Mrs. Norris and Lady Catherine, calling a young womanselfish or independent is just another way to make her submit to one’swill, to deny her the ability of making her own choices.Strategic thinking is not moralisticOne can easily confuse what a person wants with what she“should” want; for example, it is tempting to say that a person whosmokes five packs of cigarettes a day cannot be making a rationalchoice. But Austen makes this distinction clear. When Mrs. Westonsuggests that Mr. Knightley might propose to Jane Fairfax, Emma getsflustered: “Dear Mrs. Weston, how could you think of such a thing?—Mr. Knightley!—Mr. Knightley must not marry!—You would not havelittle Henry cut out from Donwell?—Oh! no, no, Henry must haveDonwell. I cannot at all consent to Mr. Knightley’s marrying; and I amsure it is not at all likely” (E, p. 242). Emma speaks for little Henry,Mr. Knightley’s nephew and heir if he remains unmarried, but of coursethe question is not what Mr. Knightley should do but what he will do,as Mrs. Weston, hardly a strategic expert, points out: “the questionis not, whether it would be a bad connexion for him, but whether hewishes it; and I think he does” (E, p. 244).Strategic thinking is not about moralistic maxims of what oneshould do. Mary Bennet, Elizabeth’s sister, is very bad at understandingthe minds of others and likes to edify her sisters with “new observationsof thread-bare morality” (PP, p. 67). For example, when Lydiahas run away with Wickham and the family anxiously considers whataction should be taken next, Mary proclaims, “we may draw from itthis useful lesson; that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable—thatone false step involves her in endless ruin,” and in response Elizabeth162

“lifted up her eyes in amazement” (PP, p. 319). At a ball, CatherineMorland cannot accept the far preferable Henry Tilney because JohnThorpe has already engaged her for the first dance. Thus “she deducedthis useful lesson, that to go previously engaged to a ball, does not necessarilyincrease either the dignity or enjoyment of a young lady. Fromsuch a moralizing strain as this, she was suddenly roused by a touchon the shoulder, and turning round, perceived Mrs. Hughes directlybehind her, attended by Miss Tilney and a gentleman. ‘I beg your pardon,Miss Morland,’ said she, ‘for this liberty—but I cannot any howget to Miss Thorpe, and Mrs. Thorpe said she was sure you would nothave the least objection to letting in this young lady by you’ ” (NA,pp. 50–51). On the verge of moralizing, Catherine much more usefullylearns and benefits from Mrs. Hughes’s strategic move setting her upwith Henry’s sister.Strategic thinking is not economisticStrategic thinking is also often confused with a variety of conceptsrelated to “economy,” such as thrift, materialism, and money-centrism.But Austen makes clear that economistic values are not the same asstrategic thinking, especially through Mrs. Norris. Mrs. Norris follows“a very strict line of economy,” with “nothing to impede her frugality”(MP, p. 9). She wants to continue with the play Lovers’ Vows regardlessof the play’s subject or whether Sir Thomas would approve, because“the preparations will be all so much money thrown away—and Iam sure that would be a discredit to us all” (MP, p. 166). Sewing acurtain for the stage, she manages to save through meticulous planninga whopping three-fourths of a yard out of an entire bolt of green baize.When Sir Thomas returns and the play is called off, the curtain “wentoff with her to her cottage, where she happened to be particularly inwant of green baize” (MP, p. 228). Mrs. Norris thinks of herself as astrategic sophisticate. But, as discussed earlier, when she maneuversto exclude Fanny from the trip to Sotherton, “more from partialityfor her own scheme, because it was her own, than from any thingelse,” Edmund easily bests her, having already secured an invitation163

for Fanny (MP, p. 92). Mrs. Norris is proudest of Maria’s marriage withMr. Rushworth: “Her greatest support and glory was in having formedthe connection with the Rushworths. There she was impregnable. Shetook to herself all the credit of bringing Mr. Rushworth’s admirationof Maria to any effect” (MP, p. 221). But the marriage’s unsoundnessshould have been obvious from the start; at the wedding, Sir Thomasis anxious but Mrs. Norris “was all joyous delight. . . . [N]o one wouldhave supposed, from her confident triumph, that she . . . could have thesmallest insight into the disposition of the niece who had been broughtup under her eye” (MP, pp. 237–238).The strategic sophomore Mr. John Dashwood also believes in thecash nexus, evaluating Marianne’s illness as an income reduction: “Ather time of life, any thing of an illness destroys the bloom for ever!. . . I question whether Marianne now, will marry a man worth morethan five or six hundred a-year, at the utmost” (SS, p. 258). When hehears that Colonel Brandon has offered a living to Edward Ferrars, heevaluates the offer not in terms of the Colonel’s kindness but in theliving’s monetary value had he sold it instead: “supposing the lateincumbent to have been old and sickly, and likely to vacate it soon—hemight have got I dare say—fourteen hundred pounds” (SS, p. 334).Of course our strategically skilled heroines do not ignore money.Marianne believes that marriage cannot be “only a commercial exchange,in which each wished to be benefited at the expense of theother” (SS, p. 45), and that “money can only give happiness wherethere is nothing else to give it” (SS, p. 105), but famously states herbasic needs as ‘[a]bout eighteen hundred or two thousand a-year,”twice what Elinor thinks luxurious (SS, p. 105). When Elizabeth talksto Mrs. Gardiner about Wickham’s attention to Miss King, who hasjust inherited a fortune from her grandfather, Elizabeth argues thatone cannot pretend that cash is irrelevant: “Pray, my dear aunt, whatis the difference in matrimonial affairs, between the mercenary andthe prudent motive? Where does discretion end, and avarice begin?Last Christmas you were afraid of his marrying me, because it wouldbe imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get a girl with only164

ten thousand pounds, you want to find out that he is mercenary” (PP,p. 173).Strategic skills and money skills do not necessarily go together,but they are also not necessarily opposed. Mr. Shepherd, the lawyerof Sir Walter Elliot and one of the few characters, aside from the shopkeeperMrs. Ford, who actually participates in a market other thanthe marriage market, has strategic skills in both the intimate sphere ofcoddling clients and the larger sphere of the market. When Sir Walterhas money problems, Mr. Shepherd is “skilful enough to dissuade” SirWalter from relocating to London “and make Bath preferred” becauseit is cheaper (P, p. 15). When Sir Walter prohibits Mr. Shepherd fromvulgarly advertising that Kellynch Hall is for rent, Mr. Shepherd advisesthat “peace will be turning all our rich Naval Officers ashore” andvery soon afterward, Admiral Croft shows up, “accidentally hearingof the possibility of Kellynch Hall being to let” (P, p. 23). Mr. Shepherdskillfully finds a tenant while preserving his client’s undeserved pride,and is likely emulated by his daughter Mrs. Clay, who “understood theart of pleasing” and “possessed, in an acute mind and assiduous pleasingmanners, infinitely more dangerous attractions than any merelypersonal might have been” (P, pp. 17, 37).Many have noticed Austen’s hard-headedness on economic matters.For example, Vermeule (2010, p. 178, 185) writes: “The more I readEmma, the more I realize how devastating Austen’s vision of humanpsychology is. Her characters are locked in fierce but largely unconsciousbattle over a small passel of land and all the good things thatflow from it. . . . [T]he novel is a sophisticated hydraulic system for producinga guided distribution of resources.” Just as strategic thinking isnot the same thing as economistic values, selfishness, or competition,the study of strategic thinking is not exactly the same thing as economics.Strategic thinking applies to a wider set of phenomena (andeconomic mechanisms need not involve strategic thinking). One mightsay that Austen’s economic “realism” is just part of her general analysisof strategic thinking.165

Strategic thinking is not confined to “games”Austen often features card games and parlor games, such as whistand backgammon. One might think that she would use these gamesto illustrate strategic thinking, as do other game theorists. Instead,Austen uses these games to illustrate the tendency of excessive decontextualization,of focusing in so closely on the inconsequential that oneloses sight of the larger social context. Austen emphasizes that strategicthinking is about much more than “games.”People who like card and board games are generally not good atstrategic thinking in the social realm. “Lovers of games in the novels . . .are more often than not selfish, irresponsible, or empty-headed” (Duckworth1975, p. 280). Mr. Collins, utterly misunderstanding the tastes ofhis audience, tries to entertain the Bennet daughters by reading fromFordyce’s Sermons “with very monotonous solemnity” (PP, pp. 76–77).Interrupted by Lydia, who can’t take it any longer, Mr. Collins takesrefuge with Mr. Bennet in a game of backgammon. Mr. Hurst, Mr. Bingley’sbrother-in-law, “was an indolent man, who lived only to eat,drink, and play at cards,” (PP, p. 38) and the day after Fanny’s first ballat Mansfield, a sleepy Lady Bertram asks Fanny to “Fetch the cards,—Ifeel so very stupid” (MP, p. 328). In contrast, Elizabeth would ratherread than play cards; Mr. Hurst “looked at her with astonishment”(PP, p. 40). When Lady Middleton proposes that they all play Casino,Marianne declares, “ I detest cards. I shall go to the piano-forte” (SS,p. 165) and Elinor finds that Mrs. Jennings’s parties, “formed only forcards, could have little to amuse her” (SS, p. 192).When people skilled in “real-world” strategic thinking do playcards, they play with an eye to a larger social context, with a more seriousgame in mind; they resist the decontextualization which close attentionto an “artificial” game like whist requires. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingleyvisit the Bennets and Elizabeth doesn’t know what Mr. Darcy isup to. After exchanging pleasantries about his sister, Mr. Darcy standsnext to Elizabeth for several minutes in silence. Anxious to somehowfurther communicate, Elizabeth’s hopes “were overthrown, by seeinghim fall a victim to her mother’s rapacity for whist players. . . . They166

were confined for the evening at different tables, and she had nothingto hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her sideof the room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself” (PP,p. 378). Elizabeth knows that for her and Mr. Darcy, whist is a superficialdistraction from the real game of how they will reach somekind of understanding, through conversation or eye contact. WhenWilloughby courts Marianne, “[i]f their evenings at the park were concludedwith cards, he cheated himself and all the rest of the party to gether a good hand”; card games are a mere vehicle for his larger objective(SS, p. 64). After dear Miss Taylor leaves to marry Mr. Weston, Emmatries to keep her father from lamenting her absence, and plans “by thehelp of backgammon, to get her father tolerably through the evening”(E, p. 7).Card-playing presents a strategic opportunity to get other peopleout of the way. Wickham sits between Lydia and Elizabeth as theyplay a card game called lottery tickets. Lydia “soon grew too muchinterested in the game, too eager in making bets and exclaiming afterprizes, to have attention for anyone in particular. Allowing for thecommon demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisureto talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him, though whatshe chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told, the history ofhis acquaintance with Mr. Darcy” (PP, p. 86). Here Lydia’s immersionin the game is convenient for Elizabeth and Wickham, who put only acustomary level of effort in the game. When Lady Middleton proposesCasino, Elinor at first joins in but quickly realizes that since Lucy Steelehas already volunteered instead to work on a basket for Lady Middleton’sdaughter, she now has a chance to talk with her alone about hersecret engagement to Edward Ferrars. Elinor proposes, “if I shouldhappen to cut out, I may be of some use to Miss Lucy Steele, in rollingher papers for her, and there is so much still to be done to the basket, thatit must be impossible I think for her labour singly” (SS, p. 165). Elinorand Lucy sit at a table to work while Marianne plays the pianoforte,which “was luckily so near them that Miss [Elinor] Dashwood nowjudged she might safely, under the shelter of its noise, introduce theinteresting subject, without any risk of being heard at the card-table”167

(SS, p. 165). Here card-playing is multiply useful, allowing Elinor andLucy to talk alone and also causing Marianne to remove herself and inturn play music which covers their voices. When Mr. Bingley visits theBennets, “Mrs. Bennet’s invention was again at work to get every bodyaway from him and her daughter,” Jane (PP, p. 383). They all sit downto cards, and Elizabeth concludes that since they are all occupied, shecan go off and write a letter in another room because “she could notbe wanted to counteract her mother’s schemes” (PP, p. 383). But whenElizabeth returns to the drawing-room, Jane and Mr. Bingley are alonetogether, the proposal has been made, and Elizabeth realizes “that hermother had been too ingenious for her” (PP, p. 383). When the othersplay cards, Elizabeth thinks she can cleverly peel off. But perhapsMrs. Bennet sets up the card game anticipating Elizabeth’s cleverness;realizing that Elizabeth is the greatest obstacle, Mrs. Bennet must removeher first. Elizabeth is neutralized not by playing cards but by herbelief that everyone else is neutralized by playing cards.Austen’s longest episode of card-playing is a game of speculation,a simple game in which players bid for higher cards with chips orcounters. After dinner at Mansfield Park, there is a table for whistand a table for speculation, and Lady Bertram, equally ignorant ofboth, is directed by Sir Thomas toward speculation because “[h]e wasa Whist player himself, and perhaps might feel that it would not muchamuse him to have her for a partner” (MP, p. 278). Lady Bertram isnot equal to participating even in the confined domain of card games,and cannot even choose which game to play; in contrast Sir Thomas isable to think strategically not just within the game of whist but in thesocial context in which the games are embedded. Henry Crawford hasnot yet fallen hard for Fanny but wants to toy with her, and offers tosit between Lady Bertram and Fanny to teach them both. In contrastto Willoughby, however, Henry actually wants to win the game andnot just the girl. Henry is “pre-eminent in all the lively turns, quickresources, and playful impudence that could do honour to the game”and tries to get Fanny to be more competitive: “he had yet to inspirither play, sharpen her avarice, and harden her heart, which, especiallyin any competition with William, was a work of some difficulty” (MP,168

p. 279). When her brother William bids for Fanny’s queen, Henry makessure that Fanny turns down the bid, and Edmund remarks, “Fanny hadmuch rather it were William’s. . . . Poor Fanny! not allowed to cheatherself as she wishes!” (MP, p. 284). As Edmund is aware, Fanny, whowas “mistress of the rules of the game in three minutes,” does not findthe game itself very interesting and cannot separate it from the overallsocial context, in which she cares most about her dear brother (MP,p. 279).Still playing, Henry suggests at great length that Edmund shouldspend money to improve Thornton Lacey, Edmund’s future home asa clergyman, and that he will hang around in the neighborhood tomake suggestions and presumably further enrapture Fanny. Henryspecifically recommends that the farmyard at Thornton Lacey be eliminatedand the blacksmith’s shop visually obscured; as Knox-Shaw(2004, p. 94) observes, these alterations “ ‘shut out’ all traces of thevicarage’s social context.” Edmund replies, “I think the house andpremises may be made comfortable . . . without any very heavy expense,and that must suffice me; and I hope may suffice all who careabout me” (MP, p. 282), thus frustrating Mary Crawford, who hasgreater monetary ambitions for Edmund. Mary overbids for another’sjack to send a message, declaring aloud, “I will stake my last like awoman of spirit. No cold prudence for me. I am not born to sit stilland do nothing. If I lose the game, it shall not be from not striving forit” (MP, p. 282). Like Will Parker, she wants the smaller card game torepresent a larger game, in her case getting Edmund to pursue a morelucrative career. She wins the hand but it “did not pay her for what shehad given to secure it” (MP, p. 282).People who are truly strategically skilled do not care about smallgames and know that they do not mean or represent anything. Henrydoes not want to choose between the smaller card game and the largergame of seducing Fanny, thinking that he can win at both. Just as whenhe desperately tries to win the smiles of the married Maria Rushworthwhile thinking he can still succeed with Fanny, Henry simply mustexercise his cleverness in every domain.169

11Austen’s innovationsAusten goes well beyond the typical even in her discussions ofgame theory’s standard fundamental concepts. She makes particularadvances, however, in five new topics. The first is how two people forman intimate relationship by strategically acting in concert to manipulatea third. The second is how the relationship between a person’s multipleselves can be more complex than a simple chain of command. The thirdis how a person’s preferences change, for example when an alternativetakes on a new social connotation. The fourth is that true constancyof a person’s desire is not the same as individual obstinacy but ratherrequires active faith and strategic understanding in cooperation. Wediscuss these four in this chapter. The fifth, why superiors do notrecognize that inferiors act strategically (in my terminology, why theyare “clueless”) is discussed in chapter 14.Partners in strategic manipulationMarriage is of course the central goal in Austen’s novels, and ourheroines use their strategic skills toward this goal. But strategic thinkingplays another crucial role: almost always, a couple’s relationship isprefaced by their working together to strategically manage, or at leastmonitor, other people. Strategic partnership is the truest foundation formarriage and intimacy. Strategic thinking does not assume atomisticindividuals; indeed, strategic thinking in concert can form the basis ofthe closest human relationships.Emma might discover the strength of her affection for Mr. Knightleyonly with the encroachment of Harriet, but the ease and versatilityof their strategic teamwork is evident early on. When Mr. Woodhouse170

can’t stop talking about how his daughter Isabella and her husbandMr. John Knightley, Mr. Knightley’s brother, should not have takentheir vacation at South End because of the dangerous sea air, andfor their own health should have visited him at Highbury instead,Emma changes the subject several times because she knows that herfather’s stubbornness risks an outright dispute. Despite her best efforts,her father persists and appeals to the authority of his apothecaryfriend Mr. Perry. This is enough to make Mr. John Knightley exclaim:“Mr. Perry . . . would do as well to keep his opinion till it is asked for.Why does he make it any business of his, to wonder at what I do?” (E,p. 114). But Mr. Knightley jumps in, “with most ready interposition”and “immediate alertness,” asking his brother for his opinion aboutchanging one of the paths on his estate (E, pp. 114, 115). Mr. Knightleythus demonstrates not only his situational awareness and strategicskills, but also his unspoken connection with Emma, their teamworkwhich needs no explicit planning. When the Woodhouses and Knightleysdine at Randalls, it begins to snow and the possibility looms ofhaving to spend the night there or, even worse, getting stuck in thesnow on the way home. Emma’s sister Isabella wants to leave firstwith her husband so they can return to their children quickly, andthinks that her father and Emma should remain. But Emma, and herfather even more so, would rather not spend the night, and the questionof what should be done, and the seriousness of the snowfall, isdiscussed chaotically. “[W]hile the others were variously urging andrecommending, Mr. Knightley and Emma settled it in a few brief sentences:thus—‘Your father will not be easy; why do not you go?’ ‘I amready, if the others are.’ ‘Shall I ring the bell?’ ‘Yes, do’ ” (E, p. 138).That the two of them would consult and come up with a plan for everyoneto follow is taken for granted, and their telegraphic exchangeillustrates the understanding they already share.Accordingly, what flusters Emma and Mr. Knightley most is thepossibility of being kicked off the team and replaced by another. Emmaanticipates a strategically skilled Frank Churchill who “can adapt hisconversation to the taste of every body, and has the power as well asthe wish of being universally agreeable” and Mr. Knightley responds171

y calling him a “practised politician, who is to read every body’scharacter. . . . My dear Emma, your own good sense could not enduresuch a puppy when it came to the point” (E, p. 161–162). Mr. Knightley’sdefensiveness is strong enough for Emma to notice: “To take a dislike toa young man, only because he appeared to be of a different dispositionfrom himself, was unworthy the real liberality of mind which she wasalways used to acknowledge in him” (E, p. 162). Similarly, what givesEmma “severe pain” is Mr. Knightley’s “superior degree of confidencetowards Harriet” when he tells Harriet “that though he must go toLondon, it was very much against his inclination that he left home atall, which was much more (as Emma felt) than he had acknowledged toher” (E, p. 447). Mr. Knightley asks Harriet, not Emma, to understandhis motivations and share in his decision.Once their match is announced, the prospect of their perfect teamworkmakes Emma especially happy: “High in the rank of her mostserious and heartfelt felicities, was the reflection that all necessity ofconcealment from Mr. Knightley would soon be over. . . . She couldnow look forward to giving him that full and perfect confidence whichher disposition was most ready to welcome as a duty” (E, p. 519).This seems an odd thing to be joyful about, since she could have beenperfectly truthful with Mr. Knightley as just a friend and marriage isno guarantee of perfect confidence anyhow. In her happiness Emmaexpresses how fundamental strategic partnership is to her idea of marriage.United, Emma and Mr. Knightley have more than enough strategicexpertise to predict what will happen once they tell Mr. Westonof their engagement: “they had calculated from the time of its beingknown at Randall’s, how soon it would be over Highbury; and werethinking of themselves, as the evening wonder in many a family circle,with great sagacity” (E, p. 511).The strategic partnership between Edmund Bertram and Fannystarts cursorily: when Edmund asks her opinion on whether he shouldact in Lovers’ Vows, his mind is actually already made up, because hewants to protect Mary Crawford from acting with a complete stranger.Edmund has been in the habit of talking about Mary with Fanny, frequentlypraising her and excusing her faults, to Fanny’s chagrin. But172

Fanny’s patient listening pays off when Edmund begins to have realdoubts. Mary Crawford has already made fun of the clergy, Edmund’schosen profession, and joked about her intention to be very rich. Edmundconfides: “She does not think evil, but she speaks it—speaksit in playfulness—and though I know it to be playfulness, it grievesme to the soul” (MP, p. 312). Fanny, still not up to actually advisinghim, responds, “If you only want me as a listener, cousin, I will be asuseful as I can; but I am not qualified for an adviser. Do not ask adviceof me. I am not competent” (MP, p. 312). The one thing Fanny doesrecommend is that Edmund not tell her anything about Mary that hemight regret later. Edmund assures her, “The time will never come.. . . You are the only being upon earth to whom I should say what Ihave said; but you have always known my opinion of her. . . . Howmany a time have we talked over her little errors! You need not fearme; I have almost given up every serious idea of her” (MP, p. 313). Hisreply elates Fanny not just because he is nearly giving up on Mary, butalso because he firmly rejects her suggestion that the discourse betweenthem might be in some way limited. Fanny affirms, “I cannot be afraidof hearing any thing you wish to say. Do not check yourself. Tell mewhatever you like” (MP, p. 314). Henry Crawford proposes to Fannywhile Edmund is away, and when he returns, “whom else had she toopen her heart to? . . . Fanny estranged from him, silent and reserved,was an unnatural state of things; a state which he must break through,and which he could easily learn to think she was wanting him to breakthrough” (MP, pp. 399–400). Thus concluding that he should make thefirst move, Edmund goes to talk with her alone while she walks inthe shrubbery. Later, “Miss Crawford’s power was all returning,” andEdmund plans to go to London to propose; “Fanny was the more affectedfrom feeling it to be the last time in which Miss Crawford’s namewould ever be mentioned between them with any remains of liberty”(MP, pp. 404, 431). Again, why should being able to talk about a thirdperson be so important, unless this confidence itself leads toward intimacy?When Henry Crawford runs off with the married Maria, andEdmund is stunned at how casually Mary treats their violation, thedepth of his disappointment is measured in his reluctance to talk even173

with Fanny about it: “If he would now speak to her with the unreservewhich had sometimes been too much for her before, it would be mostconsoling; but that she found was not to be. . . . Long, long would it beere Miss Crawford’s name passed his lips again, or she could hope fora renewal of such confidential intercourse as had been” (MP, p. 524).Now it is Fanny’s turn to draw Edmund out, and by doing so at lengthshe gains his heart.Catherine Morland is alarmed about Captain Tilney’s attentionstoward Isabella, who is engaged to her brother James, and resolvesto ask Henry Tilney to help call his brother off. Henry doesn’t takeCatherine’s worries seriously, and Catherine finally directly asks, “Butwhat can your brother mean? If he knows her engagement, what canhe mean by his behaviour? . . . [Y]ou must know your brother’s heart”(NA, p. 155). Henry replies that he can only guess at it, and assuresCatherine that his brother will soon leave Bath and forget about Isabella.After receiving her brother’s letter saying that Isabella plans an engagementwith Captain Tilney instead, Catherine strategizes with Henryand Eleanor Tilney about whether they should tell General Tilney theirside of the story before Captain Tilney comes to ask for his father’sconsent. Henry and Eleanor predict that General Tilney will objectto Isabella’s lack of wealth and that Captain Tilney will not have thecourage to ask his father in person anyhow. Catherine suggests thatHenry talk with General Tilney, “but he did not catch at the measure soeagerly as she had expected,” and Henry takes a hands-off approach:“my father’s hands need not be strengthened, and Frederick’s confessionof folly need not be forestalled. He must tell his own story” (NA,p. 215). When Catherine receives Isabella’s letter saying that CaptainTilney dumped her, Catherine asks Henry, “Why should he pay hersuch attentions as to make her quarrel with my brother, and then fly offhimself? . . . [F]or mischief’s sake?” (NA, p. 225). Henry can only bowin assent and tell Catherine that she has difficulty understanding because“your mind is warped by an innate principle of general integrity,and therefore not accessible to the cool reasonings of family partiality,or a desire of revenge,” thereby cooling Catherine out: “Catherine wascomplimented out of further bitterness” (NA, pp. 225–226).174

Therefore finally when his father ejects Catherine, Henry musttravel to Catherine’s home to apologize not just for his father, but forhis own negligence of their implicit strategic partnership. Henry hadconsistently devalued Catherine’s concerns about his brother and hadnever actually done anything to address them, even after he was provenwrong. Henry had not thought it necessary to represent Catherine’sconcerns to his father General Tilney, which at the very least wouldhave shown his father that he is willing to speak up for her. He doesnot even share in Catherine’s frustration when his brother’s baseness isfully revealed, choosing to butter her up instead. “[B]y turning a deafear to” Catherine, Henry “is more graceful, but he is not essentiallydifferent from the General” (Johnson 1988, p. 38). Henry is finally notpresent to represent Catherine’s interests when General Tilney kicks herout. Catherine’s expulsion is thus not just the convulsion of a rude oldman, but the final harsh result of repeated mild negligence, of choosingwit over exertion, of not taking a friendship seriously. A neglect thisserious in a strategic partnership can only be repaired with a marriageproposal.Captain Wentworth and Anne Elliot’s strategic partnership isforged in the heat of medical emergency at Lyme; at first he sets offfor the surgeon himself, but quickly agrees with Anne that CaptainBenwick should go since he knows Lyme better. Captain Harville andhis wife immediately jointly insist that Louisa be taken to their home towait for the surgeon: “a look between him and his wife decided whatwas to be done” (P, p. 120). Captain Wentworth and Anne do not haveCaptain and Mrs. Harville’s unspoken communication, and they donot have Emma and Mr. Knightley’s history of strategic teamwork, butto his credit Captain Wentworth creates that partnership on the spot byexplicitly asking for help and following Anne’s instructions; he is thekind of man who does not mind asking for directions.One might say that they worked together implicitly earlier, whenCaptain Wentworth gets his sister Mrs. Croft to insist that Anne joinher and her husband in their carriage. Anne’s role is not completelypassive; she must accept Mrs. Croft’s request, and she knows that by175

stepping into the carriage, she acknowledges not just Captain Wentworth’scourtesy but his tenderness. Anne is a willing accomplice inher own manipulation, as if Fanny accepted a chain knowing it was agift from Henry Crawford.Even earlier of course, Anne and Captain Wentworth had a sharedunderstanding, an “exquisite felicity,” when they first fell in love whenAnne was nineteen (P, p. 28). But Anne had broken it off in a way particularlydamaging to their strategic partnership. Anne allowed the thirdparty Lady Russell to intrude and even worse, Anne believed that itwas to his advantage that they not marry: “The belief of being prudent,and self-denying principally for his advantage, was her chief consolation,under the misery of a parting” (P, p. 30). Just to make herself feelbetter about rejecting him, Anne presumed to know his interests betterthan he knew them himself. Anne does not accept his direct avowal ofwhat he truly desires: “she had to encounter all the additional pain ofopinions, on his side, totally unconvinced and unbending” (P, p. 30).Eight years later, Anne gets what she deserves when, left with only herown doubts and delusions, she grasps for the flimsiest evidence of histrue feelings: “[s]he could not understand his present feelings, whetherhe were really suffering much from disappointment or not; and till thatpoint were settled, she could not be quite herself” (P, p. 193). But afterAnne reads Captain Wentworth’s letter and finally understands him,the first thing they do, before even talking, is jointly put on a show forCharles Musgrove when he asks if it is alright for Captain Wentworth toescort Anne home instead: “There could be only a most proper alacrity,a most obliging compliance for public view; and smiles reined in andspirits dancing in private rapture” (P, p. 261).While Jane recovers from her illness at Netherfield, Mrs. Bennetarrives to check up on her, and immediately displays her foolishnessby taking offense with Mr. Darcy’s comment that “[i]n a country neighbourhoodyou move in a very confined and unvarying society” (PP,p. 47). “[B]lushing for her mother,” Elizabeth speaks for Mr. Darcy,saying, “He only meant that there was not such a variety of people tobe met with in the country as in town, which you must acknowledgeto be true” (PP, p. 47). When Mrs. Bennet snorts, “I know we dine176

with four and twenty families,” Elizabeth tries to change the subject toCharlotte Lucas, which only results in Mrs. Bennet declaring that Jane ismuch prettier. As evidence Mrs. Bennet recalls that a suitor once wrotelove poetry to Jane, and Elizabeth tries to change the subject again byinterjecting, “I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry indriving away love!” (PP, p. 49). Now Mr. Darcy keeps the diversiongoing by replying, “I have been used to consider poetry as the food oflove” (PP, p. 49). Elizabeth continues, “Of a fine, stout, healthy love itmay. . . . But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convincedthat one good sonnet will starve it entirely away”(PP, p. 49). This isas far as it goes; Mr. Darcy can only smile in response. At least tosome small degree, Mr. Darcy acts with Elizabeth like Mr. Knightleywith Emma, following her lead to try to prevent a parent from embarrassinghimself or herself further. Even though Elizabeth dislikesMr. Darcy, she is willing to defend him based on her understanding ofhis intentions, and Mr. Darcy reciprocates by acting, albeit briefly, onher intentions.Later that day, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy discuss how Mr. Bingleymakes decisions. Mr. Darcy tells Mr. Bingley: “Your conduct would bequite as dependant on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as youwere mounting your horse, a friend were to say, ’Bingley, you had betterstay till next week,’ you would probably do it, you would probably notgo—and, at another word, might stay a month” (PP, p. 53). In defenseof Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth says to Mr. Darcy, “To yield readily—easily—to the persuasion of a friend is no merit with you” (PP, p. 54). Mr. Darcyfleshes out the scenario by saying that the hypothetical friend has notoffered any particular argument that Mr. Bingley should stay. Elizabethreplies that the scenario is still incompletely specified: “A regard forthe requester would often make one readily yield to a request, withoutwaiting for arguments to reason one into it. . . . We may as well wait,perhaps, till the circumstance occurs, before we discuss the discretion ofhis behaviour thereupon” (PP, p. 54). Mr. Darcy agrees that more detailis necessary: “Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject,to arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which isto appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting177

etween the parties?” (PP, p. 55). For Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, this isa real discussion; they take an interest in how people make decisionsin a given scenario and whether they are justified in doing so. ButMr. Bingley doesn’t take it seriously, joking that they must also specifythe friend’s height and size. Mr. Darcy smiles, “but Elizabeth thoughtshe could perceive that he was rather offended; and therefore checkedher laugh” (PP, p. 55); Mr. Darcy reproaches Mr. Bingley for trying toend the discussion. Elizabeth suggests that Mr. Darcy return to his taskof writing to his sister, and “Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finishhis letter” (PP, p. 55). Again, Elizabeth tries to understand Mr. Darcy’sfeelings and act accordingly by not laughing, and Mr. Darcy in the endfollows Elizabeth’s instructions.In these minor interactions, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy establish apattern of working together, despite her dislike. When Elizabeth refusesMr. Darcy’s proposal, she clearly states her reasons for doingso and Mr. Darcy is thus able to take them as instructions. Elizabethblames Mr. Darcy for persuading Mr. Bingley to not marry Jane, butin his letter to Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy writes, “I remained convinced . . .that though she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invitethem by any participation of sentiment. . . . I must have been in an error”(PP, p. 219). Like Captain Wentworth agreeing that Captain Benwickknows Lyme better, Mr. Darcy admits that Elizabeth knows her sisterbetter. Elizabeth knows Jane and Mr. Darcy knows Mr. Bingley, andthus Elizabeth’s refusal and Mr. Darcy’s letter in response form a jointplan for getting Jane and Mr. Bingley together again. Their earlier mutualanalysis of how Mr. Bingley makes decisions turns out to be quiterelevant; all Mr. Darcy has to do is to assure him that Jane indeed loveshim. Later, when Lydia runs off with Wickham, Mr. Darcy calls uponhard-earned knowledge: years ago Wickham had attempted to elopewith Mr. Darcy’s sister Georgiana when she was only fifteen. Mr. Darcyfirst bribes Mrs. Younge, Georgiana’s governess and Wickham’s earlieraccomplice, to disclose Wickham’s location, and next bribes Wickhamhimself to marry Lydia. Mr. Darcy wins Elizabeth by demonstratinghis skill as a strategic partner.178

Edward Ferrars is admittedly not much of a strategic partner; Marianneis correct to say that “[h]is eyes want all that spirit, that fire,which at once announce virtue and intelligence” (SS, p. 20). WhenColonel Brandon offers Edward a living, after he is cast off by his family,Edward thanks Elinor for her suspected role in the gesture, butthat’s about it in terms of his strategic thinking. Most of Edward’sstrategic ability is occupied in preventing himself from unintentionallyrevealing his secret engagement with Lucy Steele. For example, whenMarianne spots a ring he is wearing which contains a braid of Lucy’shair, he quickly and awkwardly agrees with Marianne’s suggestionthat the hair must be from his sister Fanny (Marianne thinks it mustbe Elinor’s). When Marianne jokingly calls Edward Ferrars reserved,he stutters, “Reserved!—how, in what manner? What am I to tell you?What can you suppose?” (SS, p. 109).Colonel Brandon and Elinor are the true strategic partners; asMrs. Jennings observes, the “good understanding between the Coloneland Miss [Elinor] Dashwood seemed rather to declare that the honoursof the mulberry-tree, the canal, and the yew arbour, would all be madeover to” Elinor instead of Marianne (SS, p. 246). Colonel Brandon asksElinor for help with Marianne: “Does your sister make no distinctionin her objections against a second attachment? . . . Are those who havebeen disappointed in their first choice, whether from the inconstancyof its object, or the perverseness of circumstances, to be equally indifferentduring the rest of their lives?” (SS, p. 67). Colonel Brandon islooking for a loophole which might enable his suit. When Mrs. Jenningsis on the verge of teasing the name of Elinor’s favorite out of theyoungest Dashwood sister Margaret, Lady Middleton, out of “greatdislike of all such inelegant subjects of raillery,” switches the subject tothe weather, and “[t]he idea however started by her, was immediatelypursued by Colonel Brandon, who was on every occasion mindful ofthe feelings of others; and much was said on the subject of rain by bothof them” (SS, p. 72). Like Mr. Knightley, who follows Emma’s lead andchanges the subject to prevent direct conflict between his brother andMr. Woodhouse, Colonel Brandon jumps on the opportunity presentedby Lady Middleton to prevent Elinor’s further embarrassment. When179

Marianne falls ill, it is more than natural for Elinor to rely on ColonelBrandon to fetch their mother. Once the strategic partnership betweenColonel Brandon and Elinor is well-rooted, all that is necessary is tograft Marianne onto it. Mrs. Dashwood has the “wish of bringing Marianneand Colonel Brandon together. . . . and to see Marianne settledat the mansion-house was equally the wish of Edward and Elinor. . .. With such a confederacy against her . . . what could she do?” (SS,p. 428–429).Once released from his engagement to Lucy, Edward is able to thinkstrategically together with Elinor, at least in retrospect. Elinor wondershow Lucy managed to marry Robert Ferrars: “by what attraction Robertcould be drawn on to marry a girl . . . already engaged to his brother,and on whose account that brother had been thrown off by his family—it was beyond her comprehension to make out” (SS, p. 412). Edwardsuggests that “Lucy perhaps at first might think only of procuring hisgood offices in my favour. Other designs might afterward arise” (SS,p. 413). Edward still believes that Lucy must have had some genuineaffection for him while they were engaged, because “what fanciedadvantage it could be to her, to be fettered to a man for whom she hadnot the smallest regard, and who had only two thousand pounds in theworld. She could not foresee that Colonel Brandon would give me aliving” (SS, p. 416). Elinor replies, “she lost nothing by continuing theengagement, for she has proved that it fettered neither her inclinationnor her actions. . . . [I]f nothing more advantageous occurred, it wouldbe better for her to marry you than be single” (SS, p. 416). Elinor andEdward talk in completely strategic terms, about Lucy’s preferencesover her alternatives and her anticipation of others’ actions.This post-game recap, in which a couple reviews the motivationsand choices of people, including themselves, is often the moment ofgreatest intimacy. On their walk to the Allen residence, Henry Tilney’sproposal to Catherine is intertwined with an explanation of his father’sactions (why he expelled Elinor from Northanger) and his own: “Someexplanation on his father’s account he had to give; but his first purposewas to explain himself, and before they reached Mr. Allen’s groundshe had done it so well, that Catherine did not think it could ever be180

epeated too often” (NA, p. 252). Mr. Knightley had gone to visitEmma solely with the intention of consoling her once he had heard thatFrank Churchill had been secretly engaged with Jane Fairfax. Emmareplies that Mr. Knightley had been right to suspect Frank Churchillearlier: “my vanity was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. . . .[but] I have never been attached to him. And now I can tolerablycomprehend his behaviour. He never wished to attach me. It wasmerely a blind to conceal his real situation with another” (E, pp. 465–466). This discussion of Frank Churchill’s strategic actions naturallyinvolves a discussion of Emma’s own preferences, and “[t]he delightfulassurance of her total indifference towards Frank Churchill . . . hadgiven birth to the hope” which moves Mr. Knightley toward confessinghis own feelings for Emma. Fanny and Edmund Bertram had talkedabout Mary Crawford’s faults many times, but their closest moment iswhen Edmund tells Fanny about his last meeting with Mary. Mary hadsuggested that since her brother Henry had run off with the marriedMaria, the Bertrams should not raise a fuss: “What I advise is, thatyour father be quiet. . . . If by any officious exertions of his, she isinduced to leave Henry’s protection, there will be much less chance ofhis marrying her” (MP, pp. 528–529). Edmund cannot believe that she is“recommending to us a compliance, a compromise, an acquiescence, inthe continuance of the sin” and Fanny can only add that Mary seemedmore willing to accept Edmund once she had heard of the seriousnessof Tom Bertam’s illness, for if Tom died, Edmund would be heir (MP,p. 529). Knowledge of Mary Crawford’s motives is especially hurtful toEdmund, but discussing them with Fanny propels Edmund and Fannytoward their own union.When Elizabeth Bennet thanks Mr. Darcy for quietly underwritingLydia’s marriage, adding that if her family knew, they would allbe equally grateful, Mr. Darcy explains, “your family owe me nothing.Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you. . . . My affectionsand wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silenceme on this subject for ever” (PP, p. 406). Thus Mr. Darcy’s declarationof love follows from an explanation of the motivations for his own181

strategic actions. This time Elizabeth accepts, and together they immediatelygo through a play-by-play analysis including details suchas what Mr. Darcy thought when Elizabeth unexpectedly showed upwith the Gardiners at Pemberley, Elizabeth’s surprise at being treatedwith such warmness there, Mr. Darcy’s motivation “to shew you, byevery civility in my power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past;and I hoped to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, byletting you see that your reproofs had been attended to,” and finallyhow Mr. Darcy personally verified, by direct observation, that Janehad real affection for Mr. Bingley, and persuaded Mr. Bingley of thisfact (PP, p. 410). Later, Elizabeth cannot help herself from engagingin still more post-game discussion. “[R]ising to playfulness again, shewanted Mr. Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love withher” (PP, p. 421). Elizabeth asks, “[D]id you admire me for my impertinence?”and “Why, especially, when you called, did you look asif you did not care about me?” as well as “I wonder when you wouldhave spoken, if I had not asked you!” (PP, pp. 421–422). A perfectunderstanding does not diminish the sweetness of replaying how itwas achieved.Dubious as well as heroic couples are cemented through strategicpartnership. Maria Bertram and Henry Crawford jointly maneuver toget the right parts in Lovers’ Vows so that they can frequently rehearsetogether. The widow Mrs. Clay had been angling to marry Anne Elliot’sfather Sir Walter, and Mr. Elliot, Sir Walter’s heir presumptive, had beentrying to secure his inheritance by preventing Sir Walter from producinga son; by marrying Anne, he could better monitor Sir Walter. Mrs. Clayand Mr. Elliot are brought together by their competing manipulationof Sir Walter, and it is not surprising that she would be “next heard ofas established under his protection in London” (P, p. 273).Strategic partnership is also essential to friendships betweenwomen. Mrs. Smith’s closeness to Anne is demonstrated by how shefinds a way to watch out for her, even as an invalid confined to herroom. Mr. Elliot tells everything to Colonel Wallis, whose wife shares anurse with Mrs. Smith, and thereby Mrs. Smith is able to warn Anne ofMr. Elliot’s true intentions. In contrast, Anne’s own sisters Mary and182

Elizabeth are poor strategists and thus Anne cannot be truly intimatewith them, even though she wishes she could. When the Musgrovesisters come by and ask if Anne and Mary would like to join themfor a walk, Mary agrees even though “Anne felt persuaded, by thelooks of the two girls, that it was precisely what they did not wish.. . . [She] thought it best to accept the Miss Musgroves’ much morecordial invitation to herself to go likewise, as she might be useful inturning back with her sister, and lessening the interference in any planof their own” (P, p. 89). Mary is bad at reading others’ expressions andalso at reading social situations. When Louisa Musgrove falls at Lyme,after Mary’s uselessness is clearly demonstrated (“ ‘She is dead! sheis dead!’ screamed Mary, catching hold of her husband” (P, p. 118)),and after Charles and Henrietta Musgrove strongly agree with CaptainWentworth that Anne should stay and take care of Louisa, Marymesses everything up by insisting that as sister-in-law she should staywith Louisa instead; “Anne had never submitted more reluctantly tothe jealous and ill-judging claims of Mary” (P, p. 124). Elizabeth iseven worse; when Anne warns her that Mrs. Clay might be trying towin their father’s affections and should not accompany their relocationto Bath, “Elizabeth could not conceive how such an absurd suspicionshould occur to her” (P, p. 37).Since strategic partnership is so important to womens’ friendship,the severest reproach is to accuse a friend of being reserved, of not sharingvital information. When Elizabeth tells Jane of her engagement withMr. Darcy, Jane replies, “you have been very sly, very reserved with me.How little did you tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton!”(PP, p. 415). When Elinor and Marianne arrive in London, Elinor, suspectingthat Marianne is trying to contact Willoughby, asks Marianne ifshe is expecting a letter. When Marianne replies unspecifically, Elinorsays, “you have no confidence in me, Marianne.” Marianne answers,“Nay, Elinor, this reproach from you—you who have confidence in noone!” (SS, p. 193). Emma hates Jane Fairfax because “[t]here was no gettingat her real opinion. Wrapt up in a cloak of politeness, she seemeddetermined to hazard nothing. She was disgustingly, was suspiciouslyreserved” (E, p. 180).183

Among men, Captain Harville is a skilled wingman for CaptainWentworth, crucially drawing out Anne’s declaration of constancy inhis friend’s presence. The manipulable Mr. Bingley can still act strategicallyfor Mr. Darcy’s benefit; when he and Mr. Darcy visit the Bennets,he asks Mrs. Bennet, “have you no more lanes hereabouts in whichLizzy may lose her way again to-day” and Mrs. Bennet, to get Mr. Darcyout of Mr. Bingley’s way, suggests that Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth, and Kittytake a walk together (PP, p. 416). Mr. Bingley only has to add, “It maydo very well for the others . . . but I am sure it will be too much forKitty. Wont it, Kitty?”, which allows Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy to planhow they will ask Elizabeth’s parents for their consent (PP, p. 416).Between brother and sister, William Price tells Fanny that he worriesabout his promotion to lieutenant, and Fanny assures him thatSir Thomas “says nothing, but I am sure he will do everything in hispower to get you made”; later when Fanny is suffering under HenryCrawford’s proposal, William, “knowing her wish on the subject, hewould not distress her by the slightest allusion” (MP, pp. 290, 434). Incontrast, the gap between the Dashwood sisters and their half-brotherJohn Dashwood is evident by the clumsiness of his machinations, aswhen he tells Elinor, “it would give me great pleasure to call ColonelBrandon brother. His property here, his place, his house, every thing isin such respectable and excellent condition!—and his woods!—I havenot seen such timber any where in Dorsetshire” (SS, p. 425).Between father and daughter, when Mary sings dreadfully at theNetherfield ball, Elizabeth “looked at her father to entreat his interference,lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint” (PP,pp. 112–113). When Mrs. Bennet tells Elizabeth that she will neverspeak to her again if she does not accept Mr. Collins’s proposal, Mr. Bennetgives his own answer in the form of a game, which as a fellowstrategist he knows Elizabeth will understand: “From this day youmust be a stranger to one of your parents.—Your mother will never seeyou again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see youagain if you do” (PP, p. 125).Strategic partners jointly manipulate horses as well as people.Mary Crawford gets closer to Edmund by asking for riding lessons,184

and Fanny rightly feels trepidation when observing them together:“Edmund was close to her, he was speaking to her, he was evidentlydirecting her management of the bridle, he had hold of her hand”(MP, p. 79). Riding in John Thorpe’s carriage, Catherine spots theTilneys and pleads to stop, but, showing no commitment to the teamconcept and dooming any chance he may have had with Catherine,“Mr. Thorpe only laughed, smacked his whip, encouraged his horse,made odd noises, and drove on” (NA, p. 86). In comparison, Admiraland Mrs. Croft, Austen’s “prototype for . . . successful marriages” (Mellor1993, p. 57), drive their carriage as a team; when Mrs. Croft spotsan obstacle, “by coolly giving the reins a better direction herself, theyhappily passed the danger; and by once afterwards judiciously puttingout her hand, they neither fell into a rut, nor ran foul of a dung-cart;and Anne, with some amusement at their style of driving . . . imagined[this] no bad representation of the general guidance of their affairs” (P,p. 99).Strategizing about yourselfIf game theory can be criticized for overlooking social relationsand being too atomistic, it can also be criticized for not being atomisticenough: an individual can often be understood as a confederation ofdifferent parts or “selves.” A person can direct, restrain, observe, ormanipulate herself and can understand her own biases and tendenciesjust as she can manipulate and understand others. For example,while Anne Elliot waits with her sister and Mrs. Clay for Lady Dalrymple’scarriage because it is raining, she is startled to see CaptainWentworth walking down the street: “Her start was perceptible onlyto herself; but she instantly felt that she was the greatest simpleton inthe world, the most unaccountable and absurd! For a few minutes shesaw nothing before her. It was all confusion. She was lost; and whenshe had scolded back her senses, she found the others still waiting forthe carriage” (P, p. 190). Here Anne has a “cognitive” or “executive”self and an “embodied” or “sensing” simpleton self. Anne’s executiveself observes the reflex start of her embodied self, makes sure that no185

one else sees her embodied self’s reaction but is still embarrassed aboutit, and scolds her embodied, sensing, self into functioning again. “Shenow felt a great inclination to go to the outer door; she wanted to see ifit rained. Why was she to suspect herself of another motive? CaptainWentworth must be out of sight. She left her seat, she would go, onehalf of her should not be always so much wiser than the other half, oralways suspecting the other of being worse than it was. She wouldsee if it rained” (P, p. 190). Now Anne is explicitly divided into twohalves; according to Richardson (2002, p. 149), Anne is “split betweena superintending conscious self and a potentially unruly, desiring, unconsciousother.” The “feeling” Anne feels a great inclination to gooutside, has a perfectly good excuse, and rebels against a suspiciousand purportedly wiser “executive” Anne who cares about appearances.Even though Austen generally values self-command, in this examplethe commanded self successfully negotiates with the commanding self.Indeed, the relationship between a person’s selves is somewhatmore complicated than a hierarchical chain of command. When Admiraland Mrs. Croft (Captain Wentworth’s sister) first visit KellynchHall to see whether they would like to rent it, “Anne found it mostnatural to take her almost daily walk to Lady Russell’s, and keep outof the way till all was over; when she found it most natural to be sorrythat she had missed the opportunity of seeing them” (P, p. 34). Herethe “natural” part of Anne, which takes a walk out of habit, offers anexcuse and apology which the “executive” part of Anne accepts. HereAnne’s executive self does not require Anne’s habitual self to resolutelymake a conscious choice whether to see or avoid the Crofts when theyvisit; Anne’s executive self is happy to let this one slide. After theCrofts move in and Anne stays with her sister Mary Musgrove, Anne’sexecutive self resumes its usual role of commanding Anne’s sensingself: the Musgrove family’s talking about Captain Wentworth “was anew sort of trial to Anne’s nerves. . . . to which she must enure herself.. . . [S]he must teach herself to be insensible on such points” (P, p. 56).After Anne and Captain Wentworth finally meet, Anne’s executive selfcomes down hard on Anne’s curious sensing self (“Now, how werehis sentiments to be read? . . . And the next moment she was hating186

herself for the folly which asked the question”) but cannot ultimatelyrestrain it: “perhaps her utmost wisdom might not have prevented”her wondering whether he still finds her attractive (P, p. 65).Anne is particularly anxious that Lady Russell not see her andCaptain Wentworth together: “were Lady Russell to see them together,she might think that he had too much self-possession, and she too little”(P, p. 100). Self-possession is largely an internalization of how one isobserved by others, especially superiors. After Louisa Musgrove’sfall at Bath, Anne must tell Lady Russell what had happened, and“Captain Wentworth’s name must be mentioned. . . . She could notspeak the name, and look straight forward to Lady Russell’s eye, tillshe had adopted the expedient of telling her briefly what she thought ofthe attachment between him and Louisa. When this was told, his namedistressed her no longer” (P, p. 135). Here the cognitive, executive Annedoes not reprimand or command but rather assists the embarrassed,feeling Anne by devising a specific strategy to keep Lady Russell fromsuspecting that she still cares for him.After Anne and Captain Wentworth finally understand their feelingsfor each other, Anne “re-entered the house so happy as to beobliged to find an alloy in some momentary apprehensions of its beingimpossible to last. An interval of meditation, serious and grateful, wasthe best corrective of every thing dangerous in such high-wrought felicity;and she went to her room, and grew steadfast and fearless in thethankfulness of her enjoyment” (P, p. 266). In this moment of maximumhappiness, perhaps the feeling Anne needs the executive Anne to tellher to slow down and assure her that the happiness will persist. PerhapsAnne, even after being victimized for eight years by her executiveself’s excessive caution, cannot throw her executive self off completelyand cannot accept extreme happiness without somehow regulating it.Perhaps the feeling Anne, overflowing with victory and abundance,magnanimously finds a harmless task for the executive Anne: the creationof a cover story for her elation so that it can be understood byothers as the more socially acceptable gratitude.Much of the contrast between Elinor and Marianne Dashwood isin their different self-management strategies. Elinor knows how to187

govern her feelings but this “was a knowledge which her mother hadyet to learn, and which one of her sisters had resolved never to betaught” (SS, p. 7). Although she is her mother’s daughter, Marianne’snot knowing how to govern her emotions results from her consciouschoice to not learn, not natural incapacity or her upbringing. WhenMarianne and Willoughby meet and fawn over each other, “Elinorcould not be surprised at their attachment. She only wished that itwere less openly shewn; and once or twice did venture to suggestthe propriety of some self-command to Marianne” (SS, p. 63). ForElinor, self-command is largely about controlling how others see you.This is true for Marianne also, but instead of squelching her feelingself, Marianne amplifies it for public consumption. After Willoughbysuddenly departs, she broadcasts a “violent sorrow which Mariannewas in all probability not merely giving way to as a relief, but feedingand encouraging as a duty” (SS, p. 90). Marianne controls herself, butturns the volume up, not down. Indeed, when Edward Ferrars in turnleaves for no apparent reason, Elinor subdues her feelings and does“not adopt the method so judiciously employed by Marianne, on asimilar occasion, to augment and fix her sorrow. . . . Their means wereas different as their objects, and equally suited to the advancement ofeach” (SS, p. 120).In other words, Elinor’s and Marianne’s self-management strategiesdiffer because they have different goals. Elinor’s is to keep hermother and sister from worrying about her while Marianne’s is to convinceas many as possible of the depth of her own love, best provenby the uncontrollability of her suffering. Indeed, to Marianne, Elinor’sself-control only indicates the shallowness of Elinor’s feelings: “withstrong affections it was impossible, with calm ones it could have nomerit” (SS, p. 121). After Marianne receives the letter from Willoughbysaying that he will marry Miss Grey, Marianne’s “torrent of unresistedgrief” is too much even for sisterly Elinor, who commands: “Exertyourself, dear Marianne . . . if you would not kill yourself and all wholove you. Think of your mother; think of her misery while you suffer;for her sake you must exert yourself.” But Marianne thinks Elinordoubts her seriousness: “Oh! how easy for those, who have no sorrow188

of their own to talk of exertion! Happy, happy Elinor, you cannot havean idea of what I suffer” (SS, p. 211). Since appealing to their motherdoesn’t work, Elinor next appeals to public appearances: “Whoevermay have been so detestably your enemy, let them be cheated of theirmalignant triumph, my dear sister, by seeing how nobly the consciousnessof your own innocence and good intentions supports your spirits.”But Marianne wants the world to know: “I care not who knows thatI am wretched. The triumph of seeing me so may be open to all theworld” (SS, p. 215). Marianne takes the extreme step of allowing herselfto fall ill and almost die, and only afterwards vows to practiceself-control. But as mentioned earlier, Marianne’s amplification strategy,once set to maximum drama, basically works: it does not give herWilloughby but it does make him show up in the middle of the night toconfess his true feelings, and for that matter allows Colonel Brandon tobring Mrs. Dashwood, who encourages him along the way to pursueMarianne himself.Elinor’s and Marianne’s strategies need not conflict. After theDashwoods think that Edward Ferrars has married Lucy Steele, Edwardcomes to visit. As he arrives on horseback, Elinor, girding herloins, says to herself, “I will be calm; I will be mistress of myself.”Again, concerned with appearances, not wishing to trouble anyone,Elinor wishes Marianne and her mother to “understand that she hopedno coolness, no slight, would appear in their behaviour to him” (SS,p. 406). But when Edward says that Lucy is not Mrs. Edward Ferrarsbut Mrs. Robert Ferrars, Elinor “could sit it no longer. She almost ranout of the room, and as soon as the door was closed, burst into tears ofjoy, which at first she thought would never cease. Edward, who hadtill then looked any where, rather than at her, saw her hurry away, andperhaps saw—or even heard, her emotion; for immediately afterwardshe fell into a reverie” (SS, p. 408). As Marianne would predict, Elinor’slack of control, her running out of the room, is what reveals to Edwardher true feelings and sends him aloft. To be fair, Elinor does manageto make it to another room and close the door before bursting intotears; perhaps the heroic exertion evident in this attempt at self-control189

is what best convinces Edward of her affection. Thus Marianne’s andElinor’s self-management strategies are both validated in combination.One reason to strategize about yourself is if you anticipate that oneof your selves might be biased or make a mistake. As Elizabeth tellsMr. Darcy, “It is particularly incumbent on those who never changetheir opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first” (PP, p. 105);the present self must judge carefully, anticipating the unreasonablystubborn future self. One common kind of error is believing somethingis true because you want to believe it, a “self-serving belief.” Forexample, despite his doubts, Sir Thomas believes that his daughterMaria’s marriage to Mr. Rushworth will be successful: “Sir Thomaswas satisfied; too glad to be satisfied perhaps to urge the matter quiteso far as his judgment might have dictated to others. . . . [He was] veryhappy to think any thing of his daughter’s disposition that was mostfavourable for the purpose” (MP, p. 235).Strategically thoughtful people, however, try to correct for selfservingbeliefs or at least be self-critically aware of potential bias. In hisletter to Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy explains that he truly believed that Janedid not have any real interest in Mr. Bingley, defending himself againstself-serving bias by acknowledging its possibility: “That I was desirousof believing her indifferent is certain,—but I will venture to say that myinvestigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes orfears.—I did not believe her to be indifferent because I wished it” (PP,p. 220). Mr. Kinghtley suspects Frank Churchill, and cannot “avoidobservations which, unless it were like Cowper and his fire at twilight,‘Myself creating what I saw,’ brought him yet stronger suspicion ofthere being a something of private liking, of private understandingeven, between Frank Churchill and Jane” (E, p. 373). Colonel Brandonstates that “where the mind is perhaps rather unwilling to be convinced,it will always find something to support its doubts” (SS, p. 197).Edmund Bertram freely admits that his choice of the clergy as aprofession was biased by the fact that his father had already arrangeda living for him as a clergyman: “[K]nowing that there was such aprovision for me, probably did bias me. Nor can I think it wrongthat it should. . . . I see no reason why a man should make a worse190

clergyman for knowing that he will have a competence early in life. .. . I have no doubt that I was biassed, but I think it was blamelessly”(MP, p. 127). Fanny despairs at the likelihood of Edmund’s marriage toMary Crawford, and believes that her ill opinion of Mary is fair despiteher own personal interest: “there were bad feelings still remainingwhich made the prospect of it most sorrowful to her, independently—she believed independently of self. In their very last conversation,Miss Crawford . . . [had] still shewn a mind led astray and bewildered,and without any suspicion of being so” (MP, p. 423). Among Mary’sliabilities is a lack of awareness of her own biases.Preference changeSince a person’s choice depends on her preferences, one should understandhow a person’s preferences change. For Austen, no preferencechange goes by without notice and explanation. Austen is generallyskeptical of preference change, seeing it as an amusing human failingto which mainly the unserious and immature are susceptible. She considersseveral mechanisms for preference change, which we discuss inincreasing order of Austen’s skepticism, from the noble mechanism ofgratitude to the slightly dubious mechanism of “reference dependence”to the absurd mechanism of self-rationalization. By considering severaldiverse mechanisms, Austen goes well beyond most game theorists.For Austen, the most laudable mechanism for changing a person’spreferences is through gratitude, although she soon understandsgratitude as something more prosaic. Elizabeth’s changing feelings forMr. Darcy are chronicled through increasing gratitude. When Mr. Darcyfirst proposes, Elizabeth replies, “It is natural that obligation shouldbe felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But Icannot—I have never desired your good opinion” (PP, p. 212). AfterElizabeth reads Mr. Darcy’s letter answering her objections, “His attachmentexcited gratitude, his general character respect; but she couldnot approve him; nor could she for a moment repent her refusal” (PP,p. 236). At first she does not feel gratitude at all; then she does but notenough to make her regret her refusal. When Elizabeth visits Pemberleywith Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, the housekeeper Mrs. Reynolds praises191

Mr. Darcy’s character, and “she thought of his regard with a deeper sentimentof gratitude than it had ever raised before” (PP, p. 277). WhenMr. Darcy shows up a day early and treats them with great hospitality,even introducing his sister Georgiana, Elizabeth finds that “there was amotive within her of good will which could not be overlooked. It wasgratitude.—Gratitude, not merely for having once loved her, but forloving her still well enough, to forgive all the petulance and acrimonyof her manner in rejecting him” (PP, p. 293). Indeed, “[i]f gratitude andesteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth’s change of sentimentwill be neither improbable nor faulty” (PP, p. 308). After Elizabethlearns that Mr. Darcy secretly underwrote Wickham’s marriage to Lydia,Elizabeth expresses her gratitude (“Ever since I have known it, Ihave been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it”)and thereby initiates a fruitful conversation: Mr. Darcy expresses theconstancy of his affection, and Elizabeth replies “that her sentimentshad undergone so material a change . . . as to make her receive withgratitude and pleasure, his present assurances” (PP, p. 405–406). Inthe final sentence of Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy “wereboth ever sensible of the warmest gratitude” toward the Gardiners forbringing them together at Pemberley (PP, p. 431).Gratitude is powerful, but maybe it operates simply. Instead ofgratitude creating affection, perhaps a person is simply more likely tolove you if she thinks that you love her. In other words, it’s not that oneperson changes the preferences of another but rather that two people arein a coordination game, like Beatrice and Benedict. Henry Tilney falls inlove with Catherine Morland, but “his affection originated in nothingbetter than gratitude, or, in other words, that a persuasion of her partialityfor him had been the only cause of giving her a serious thought”(NA, pp. 252–253). Here gratitude is equated with simply knowing thatsomeone else likes you. Emma, thinking of Frank Churchill, “could notdoubt his having a decidedly warm admiration, a conscious preferenceof herself; and this persuasion, joined to all the rest, made her thinkthat she must be a little in love with him” (E, p. 282–283). Emma doesnot feel grateful to Frank Churchill, but believing that he loves heris enough to make her wonder whether she loves him. Mellor (1993,192

p. 56) argues that male gratitude, specifically Henry Tilney’s towardCatherine, is based on vanity, but vanity seems to better explain the femaleEmma’s reaction; Mellor also argues that gratitude is somethingthat inferiors, typically female, feel toward superiors, but this does notexplain Mr. Darcy’s gratitude toward the Gardiners.Feelings of gratitude recur in Pride and Prejudice, but so do coordinationproblems. Charlotte Lucas, talking to Elizabeth about Jane,agrees that love is a coordination problem, in which your target likesyou more the more he knows that you like him: “There is so muchof gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safeto leave any to itself. . . . [T]here are very few of us who have heartenough to be really in love without encouragement. . . . Bingley likesyour sister undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like her, ifshe does not help him on” (PP, p. 24). Indeed, what stops Mr. Bingley’ssuit is Mr. Darcy convincing him that Jane is indifferent; onceMr. Darcy tells Mr. Bingley that he had been mistaken and now sincerelybelieves that Jane loves him, this revised opinion alone, not anyrenewed gratitude that Mr. Bingley might feel, is enough to reattachhim to Jane. Like Beatrice toward Benedick, Elizabeth behaves impertinentlytoward Mr. Darcy in the first place because she expects himto be impertinent toward her; as she tells Charlotte, “[h]e has a verysatirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shallsoon grow afraid of him” (PP, p. 26; see also Knox-Shaw 2004, p. 88 onElizabeth as “Beatrice-like”). After their visit to Pemberley, Elizabethand Mrs. Gardiner long to talk to each other about Mr. Darcy, but eachwants the other to go first: “yet Elizabeth was longing to know whatMrs. Gardiner thought of him, and Mrs. Gardiner would have beenhighly gratified by her niece’s beginning the subject” (PP, p. 300).A near-death experience can quite effectively change a person’spreferences. After Louisa Musgrove recovers from her fall, she turnsinto “a person of literary taste, and sentimental reflection. . . . The dayat Lyme, the fall from the Cobb, might influence her health, her nerves,her courage, her character to the end of her life” (P, p. 182). Tom Bertramrecovers from illness and “became what he ought to be, useful to hisfather, steady and quiet, and not living merely for himself” (MP, p. 534).193

After Marianne Dashwood recovers, she declares that she will “divideevery moment between music and reading. I have formed my plan,and am determined to enter on a course of serious study” (SS, p . 388).This mechanism works well but is difficult to apply except accidentally.A similar mechanism for altering one’s preferences is being in anintense emotional state, such as being in love (as opposed to being neardeath). Mr. Knightley visits Emma thinking that she must be crushedby the revelation of Frank Churchill’s secret engagement to Jane Fairfax,but Emma makes clear that she had never been attached to FrankChurchill. Mr. Knightley concludes logically that Frank Churchill istherefore not entirely dastardly, but what truly changes his opinion ishis elation once Emma accepts his own affection: “Within half an hour,he had passed from a thoroughly distressed state of mind, to somethingso like perfect happiness, that it could bear no other name. . . .She was his own Emma, by hand and word, when they returned intothe house; and if he could have thought of Frank Churchill then, hemight have deemed him a very good sort of fellow” (E, pp. 471–472).Anne Elliot is aware of this mechanism. Still hurt perhaps by Anne’srejection eight years earlier, Captain Wentworth when first seeing Anneagain tells Henrietta that Anne is altered beyond recognition. But afterthey finally realize their feelings for each other, Captain Wentworthtells her that “to my eye you could never alter,” and “the value of suchhomage was inexpressibly increased to Anne, by comparing it with formerwords, and feeling it to be the result, not the cause of a revival ofhis warm attachment” (P, p. 264). The height of Wentworth’s emotionis demonstrated by how strongly it reverses his judgment. CaptainWentworth is sincere but slightly (and like Mr. Knightley, perhaps endearingly)silly; steadfast Anne’s preferences would never similarlyreverse.Another mechanism for preference change is “reference dependence”:the utility of an outcome can depend on the reference point ofcomparison or the status quo to which one is accustomed (Tversky andKahneman 1991). Austen, a bit overzealously, includes seven examplesof this in Mansfield Park after Fanny refuses Henry Crawford’s proposal.The irksome Mary Crawford keeps trying to persuade Fanny to accept,194

ut is unexpectedly kind when saying farewell, and Fanny’s “dispositionwas peculiarly calculated to value a fond treatment . . . from havinghitherto known so little of it” (MP, p. 421). After the Crawfords leave,Sir Thomas hopes that Fanny will value Henry more now that he isno longer constantly around: “he entertained great hope that his niecewould find a blank in the loss of those attentions which at the time shehad felt, or fancied an evil” (MP, p. 422). Fanny’s brother William, nowa lieutenant, visits and is excited to show Fanny his new uniform, butcannot because he is not on duty. Edmund Bertram “conjectured thatbefore Fanny had any chance of seeing it, all its own freshness, andall the freshness of its wearer’s feelings, must be worn away. . . . forwhat can be more unbecoming, or more worthless, than the uniformof a lieutenant, who has been a lieutenant a year or two, and sees othersmade commanders before him?” (MP, p. 424–425). A lieutenant’suniform is a real achievement for a midshipman, but once one is accustomedto being a lieutenant, it becomes “a badge of disgrace” (MP,p. 424). Since Fanny does not change her mind about Henry Crawford,Sir Thomas makes Fanny visit her former home in Portsmouth, hopingthat “a little abstinence from the elegancies and luxuries of MansfieldPark would . . . incline her to a juster estimate of the value of thathome of greater permanence, and equal comfort, of which she had theoffer” (MP, p. 425). Sir Thomas hopes that Henry’s proposal will lookbetter from the status quo of Portsmouth than from the status quo ofMansfield Park. Indeed, when Fanny sits in her noisy crowded home atPortsmouth, “[t]he elegance, propriety, regularity, harmony—and perhaps,above all, the peace and tranquillity of Mansfield, were broughtto her remembrance every hour of the day, by the prevalence of everything opposite to them here” (MP, p. 453). Only a few weeks earlier atMansfield, Fanny had wished Mary Crawford to go away, but whenFanny receives a letter from her, “Here was another strange revolutionof mind!—She was really glad to receive the letter when it did come.In her present exile from good society . . . a letter from one belonging tothe set where her heart lived, written with affection, and some degreeof elegance, was thoroughly acceptable” (MP, p. 455). Finally, afterrelations between the two families are ruptured after Henry Crawford195

uns off with the married Maria, Mary Crawford has difficulty finding aman “who could satisfy the better taste she had acquired at Mansfield,whose character and manners could . . . put Edmund Bertram sufficientlyout of her head” (MP, p. 543). Once Mary is used to EdmundBertram, the worth of other men is diminished.Similarly, past failure can make a current success more desirable.After missing the Tilneys the day before because of her ride with theThorpes and her brother, Catherine Morland sees Eleanor Tilney andgoes up to talk to her, “with a firmer determination to be acquainted,than she might have had courage to command, had she not been urgedby the disappointment of the day before” (NA, p. 69).Another related mechanism is that the utility of an alternative candepend on what it is being compared with. After Maria marries andJulia goes off to live with her, Fanny is the “only young woman in thedrawing-room” (MP, p. 239) and Henry Crawford exclaims that “she isnow absolutely pretty. . . . [H]er air, her manner, her tout ensemble isso indescribably improved! She must be grown two inches, at least.”But Mary Crawford replies, “This is only because there were no tallwomen to compare her with. . . . [S]he was the only girl in companyfor you to notice, and you must have a somebody” (MP, p. 268). Laterwhen Henry visits her in Portsmouth, Fanny, “[n]ot considering in howdifferent a circle she had been just seeing him, nor how much mightbe owing to contrast,” finds Henry more gentle and thoughtful thanbefore (MP, p. 479).Fanny, who is only human and quite young, is vulnerable to referencedependence, but this is considered a weakness, not a strength.For Catherine, reference dependence is part of her naivete, which admittedlyends up working in her favor. Henry Crawford’s upgradingof Fanny because no other young women are around to compare herwith is just silly.For Austen, the most condemnable mechanisms for changing aperson’s preferences are flattery and persuasion, which work only onthe very young (and fools like Mr. Rushworth). When her brother Jamesasks Catherine Morland if she likes John Thorpe, “instead of answering,as she probably would have done, had there been no friendship and196

no flattery in the case, ‘I do not like him at all;’ she directly replied,‘I like him very much; he seems very agreeable’ ” (NA, pp. 44–45).Catherine is young, and “[h]ad she been older or vainer, such attacksmight have done little; but, where youth and diffidence are united,it requires uncommon steadiness of reason to resist the attraction ofbeing called the most charming girl in the world” (NA, p. 44). YoungFanny is not invulnerable to flattery: “for although there doubtless aresuch unconquerable young ladies of eighteen . . . as are never to bepersuaded into love against their judgment by all that talent, manner,attention, and flattery can do, I have no inclination to believe Fanny oneof them” (MP, p. 269–270). Lady Russell had persuaded Anne Elliotto not marry Captain Wentworth when Anne was nineteen: “Youngand gentle as she was, it might yet have been possible to withstandher father’s ill-will . . . but Lady Russell, whom she had always lovedand relied on, could not, with such steadiness of opinion, and suchtenderness of manner, be continually advising her in vain” (P, pp. 29–30). It is good that flattery and persuasion work only on the young, asthey are almost never beneficial.Sometimes what looks like a preference change is not really achange at all. For example, when Mr. Collins first plans to proposeto Jane Bennet, then proposes to Elizabeth, and finally proposes toCharlotte Lucas, this is not a preference change; his actions are consistentwith a preference ordering in which Jane is best, Elizabeth second,and Charlotte third.Also, your preference for something can change because it becomesbundled with something else, not because your preference for the thingitself changes. For example, Marianne is still as disgusted as ever withMrs. Jennings, but accompanying her to London is bundled with thechance of seeing Willoughby. Mrs. Bennet goes from hating Mr. Darcyto loving him once he comes with the additional feature of being herson-in-law, and is not at all bothered by this seeming inconsistency:“Oh, my dear Lizzy! pray apologise for my having disliked him somuch before. I hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A housein town! Every thing that is charming! Three daughters married!Ten thousand a year!” (PP, p. 419–420). Mrs. Weston suggests that197

Mr. Knightley likes Jane Fairfax, but Emma insists that he must nevermarry because then her nephew Henry would no longer be heir. Butafter she accepts Mr. Knightley’s proposal, Emma “was never struckwith any sense of injury to her nephew Henry. . . . Think she must of thepossible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herselfa saucy conscious smile about it” (E, p. 490). If she herself is his wifeand the line of inheritance will go through her own children, Emma iswilling to put up with Mr. Knightley marrying.The most interesting kind of bundling is when one’s preference forsomething changes because it takes on a new social connotation. WhenMr. Henry Dashwood dies, his wife Mrs. Dashwood and daughters Elinor,Marianne, and Margaret remain there only as guests, because theNorland estate passes to Mr. John Dashwood, his son from a previousmarriage. They plan to move out eventually but want to stay close totheir beloved home. However, when John Dashwood’s wife Fanny insinuatesto Mrs. Dashwood that her brother Edward Ferrars has higherexpectations for his marriage and that Elinor must not try to “draw himin,” a furious Mrs. Dashwood decides to leave immediately (SS, p. 26).She receives an invitation to stay at Barton Cottage, and “[t]he situationof Barton, in a county so far distant from Sussex as Devonshire, which,but a few hours before, would have been a sufficient objection to outweighevery possible advantage belonging to the place, was now itsfirst recommendation. To quit the neighbourhood of Norland was nolonger an evil; it was an object of desire; it was a blessing, in comparisonof the misery of continuing her daughter-in-law’s guest” (SS, p. 27).Maria and Mr. Rushworth plan to marry when her father Sir Thomasreturns from abroad, but in the meantime Maria shamelessly acceptsthe attentions of Henry Crawford. When Sir Thomas returns, Henrymust act quickly if serious, but instead leaves saying nothing. Maria,who had been putting off the wedding as long as possible, now desiresit immediately: “her mind became cool enough to seek all the comfortthat pride and self-revenge could give. Henry Crawford had destroyedher happiness, but he should not know that he had done it; he shouldnot destroy her credit, her appearance, her prosperity too. He shouldnot have to think of her as pining in the retirement of Mansfield for198

him, rejecting Sotherton and London, independence and splendour forhis sake” (MP, pp. 235–236). Maria’s utility of marrying Mr. Rushworthincreases because she can thereby spite Henry Crawford.Similarly, if your value of something changes after learning moreabout it, this is not really a preference change. When Henry Crawfordobserves the strength of Fanny’s affection for her brother William afterhe returns from years at sea, “Fanny’s attractions increased—increasedtwo-fold—for the sensibility which beautified her complexion and illuminedher countenance, was an attraction in itself. He was no longerin doubt of the capabilities of her heart” (MP, p. 274). Henry is moreattracted to Fanny after learning what her heart can do. After everyoneknows that Willoughby dumped Marianne to marry Miss Grey, Elinorgrows weary of “officious condolence” and “clamorous kindness” andappreciates Lady Middleton’s self-centeredness: “It was a great comfort. . . to know that there was one who would meet her without feelingany curiosity after particulars, or any anxiety for her sister’s health. Everyqualification is raised at times, by the circumstances of the moment,to more than its real value” (SS, p. 245). Elinor’s preference for LadyMiddleton’s company does not change (in later occasions, she finds heras insipid as ever); rather, she discovers an unexpected contingency inwhich Lady Middleton’s unconcern pays off.Finally, sometimes when a person says that his own or another’spreferences have changed, this is not a real change but simply a rationalizationof his own behavior. After Henry Crawford, who hasbeen flirting with both Maria and Julia Bertram, decisively indicateshis preference for Maria to play the part of Agatha in Lovers’ Vows, hefirst tries to assuage an enraged Julia with “gallantry and compliment,”but “becoming soon too busy with his play to have time for more thanone flirtation, he grew indifferent to the quarrel, or rather thought it alucky occurrence, as quietly putting an end to what might ere long haveraised expectations” (MP, p. 188). Henry initially tries to remedy thebreak with Julia, but out of laziness changes his mind and regards it agood thing. Henry regards other people’s preferences as freely changeableto his convenience; for example, when Mary Crawford tells himthat Maria, now Mrs. Rushworth, will be mad when she hears about199

his proposal to Fanny, Henry replies, “Mrs. Rushworth will be veryangry. It will be a bitter pill to her; that is, like other bitter pills, it willhave two moments’ ill-flavour, and then be swallowed and forgotten”(MP, p. 344). Perhaps Henry simply thinks that others’ preferences areas long-lasting as his own; at one moment Henry “wished he had beena William Price, distinguishing himself and working his way to fortuneand consequence with so much self-respect and happy ardour” but atthe next “found it was as well to be a man of fortune at once with horsesand grooms at his command” (MP, p. 276).When rationalizations change from one minute to the next, we approachthe absurd. When James Morland asks Isabella Thorpe to dance,she says that she cannot while Catherine Morland has no partner: “Iwould not stand up without your dear sister for all the world; for if Idid we should certainly be separated the whole evening.” But threeminutes later, Isabella tells Catherine, “My dear creature, I am afraidI must leave you, your brother is so amazingly impatient to begin; Iknow you will not mind my going away” (NA, p. 47). The next day,when the four go on a drive, John Thorpe brags to Catherine abouthis own carriage, saying that her brother James’s carriage is “the mostdevilish little ricketty business I ever beheld. . . . I would not be boundto go two miles in it for fifty thousand pounds.” When Catherine takeshim seriously and urges him to warn James of the danger and turnback, John Thorpe proclaims that James’s “carriage is safe enough, ifa man knows how to drive it. . . . I would undertake for five poundsto drive it to York and back again, without losing a nail.” Catherine“listened with astonishment . . . for she had not been brought up . . . toknow to how many idle assertions and impudent falsehoods the excessof vanity will lead. Her own family were plain, matter-of-fact people . .. not in the habit therefore of telling lies to increase their importance, orof asserting at one moment what they would contradict the next” (NA,p. 61–62). John Thorpe’s boasts are not mere logical contradictions suchas “Everything I say is false”; one can make contradictory statementswithout changing one’s preferences. What makes John Thorpe absurdis the flipping of his stated preferences. Edmund Bertram is aware ofthis. After first refusing to act in Lovers’ Vows, he decides that he must200

take part in order to preserve Mary Crawford from acting an intimatepart with a complete stranger, and states: “No man can like beingdriven into the appearance of such inconsistency. After being known tooppose the scheme from the beginning, there is absurdity in the face ofmy joining them now” (MP, pp. 180–181).Austen tracks how preferences change, but surely the deeper questionis how preferences are formed in the first place. Like most gametheorists, however, Austen considers this question outside the scope ofher inquiry. Gratitude explains Henry Tilney’s love for Catherine, Elizabeth’slove for Mr. Darcy, and also perhaps Fanny’s love for EdmundBertram (after Edmund helps ten-year-old Fanny write a letter to herbrother William, “her countenance and a few artless words fully conveyedall their gratitude and delight” (MP, p. 18)), but Austen does nottake time to explain the origins of all loves. For example, Catherine’s interestin Henry Tilney is taken for granted, and the beginning of Elinor’sconnection to Edward Ferrars is described cursorily as “a particular circumstance,”“a growing attachment” (SS, p. 17). Edmund’s attractionto Mary Crawford begins embarrassingly routinely: “A young woman,pretty, lively, with a harp as elegant as herself; and both placed neara window, cut down to the ground, and opening on a little lawn, surroundedby shrubs in the rich foliage of summer, was enough to catchany man’s heart,” and Mary Crawford’s response is equally mundane:“he pleased her for the present; she liked to have him near her; it wasenough” (MP, pp. 76, 77).Austen does note that people can acquire new preferences; afterCatherine exclaims that Elinor Tilney has taught her how to love ahyacinth, Henry Tilney remarks, “You have gained a new source ofenjoyment, and it is well to have as many holds upon happiness aspossible. . . . I am pleased that you have learnt to love a hyacinth. Themere habit of learning to love is the thing” (NA, pp. 178–179). Onecan also say that Emma and Mr. Knightley illustrate how sometimesyou don’t know your own preferences until you are forced into action,by a rival for example. Still, like most game theorists, Austen is moreinterested in people’s actions once they have their preferences.201

ConstancyThe opposite of preference change is constancy, which Austen considersa virtue in itself. Austen prizes constancy but distinguishescarefully between constancy and stubbornness and also clarifies thesurprisingly subtle distinction between constancy and inconstancy.Austen’s exemplars of constancy are Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth,whose love for each other remains after a separation of eightyears. Constancy is essential not only in the fundamentals of their lovebut in its tactical achievement: it is Anne’s expression of woman’s superiorconstancy, egged on by Captain Harville, which finally makesCaptain Wentworth redeclare his feelings.Their trajectory analyzes, as well as celebrates, constancy. Whenshe was nineteen, Anne allowed Lady Russell to persuade her to refuseCaptain Wentworth’s proposal, and he returns eight years later obsessedwith the virtue of decisiveness: “He had not forgiven Anne Elliot.She had used him ill; deserted and disappointed him; and worse,she had shewn a feebleness of character in doing so. . . . She had givenhim up to oblige others. It had been the effect of over-persuasion. It hadbeen weakness and timidity” (P, p. 66). Walking with Anne’s potentialrival Louisa Musgrove, Captain Wentworth declares, “It is the worstevil of too yielding and indecisive a character, that no influence over itcan be depended on. . . . Everybody may sway it. . . . My first wish forall, whom I am interested in, is that they should be firm” (P, p. 94). Butwhen Louisa falls on her head at Lyme, Anne reflects that her fall wascaused by her willful insistence to be jumped down the steps of theCobb a second time, even after Captain Wentworth tried to persuadeher against it. Anne therefore thinks that Captain Wentworth mightquestion “his own previous opinion as to the universal felicity andadvantage of firmness of character” (P, p. 126). Comparing Anne andLouisa, Captain Wentworth learns the correct conceptual distinction:“he had learnt to distinguish between the steadiness of principle andthe obstinacy of self-will, between the darings of heedlessness and theresolution of a collected mind” (P, p. 263). Constancy is not about doing202

what you want at any given moment. Constancy is about steadinessand resolution.For Anne and Captain Wentworth, constancy requires hard work,patience, and faith, as well as strategically figuring out what the otheris thinking: in moments of doubt, Anne relies “on this argument ofrational dependance:—‘Surely, if there be constant attachment on eachside, our hearts must understand each other ere long. We are not boyand girl, to be captiously irritable, misled by every moment’s inadvertence,and wantonly playing with our own happiness’ ” (P, p. 240). Incontrast, when Louisa jumps off the steps of the Cobb, she does so halfa second too early, before Captain Wentworth is ready. Louisa’s mistakeis not just willfulness, but a lack of strategic thinking; she does notthink about Captain Wentworth’s mental state before jumping and simplyassumes he is ready. Louisa acts before she and Captain Wentworthunderstand each other. Like Fox, who superficially imitates Rabbit’sfish-stealing technique only to be hit on the head by the fisherman,Louisa tries to attract Captain Wentworth with superficial displays ofdecisiveness, without understanding what constancy truly requires.True constancy requires strategic thinking. After they finally understandtheir love for each other, Captain Wentworth explains to Annehow discouraged he was to see her the target of her cousin Mr. Elliotand in the company of Lady Russell: “to see your cousin close byyou, conversing and smiling, and feel all the horrible eligibilities andproprieties of the match! To consider it as the certain wish of everybeing who could hope to influence you! . . . [W]as not the recollectionof what had been, the knowledge of her influence, the indelible, immoveableimpression of what persuasion had once done—was it notall against me?” Anne gently replies: “If I was wrong in yielding topersuasion once, remember that it was to persuasion exerted on theside of safety, not of risk. When I yielded, I thought it was to duty; butno duty could be called in aid here. In marrying a man indifferent tome, all risk would have been incurred, and all duty violated” (P, p. 266).Anne’s point is that Captain Wentworth, seeing only reminders of howa younger Anne was earlier persuaded, does not think of Anne now as203

making her own decision and about the factors involved in her preferences.Later that day, thinking further, Anne continues, “To me, shewas in the place of a parent. . . . I am not saying that she did not errin her advice. . . . But I mean, that I was right in submitting to her, andthat if I had done otherwise, I should have suffered more in continuingthe engagement than I did even in giving it up, because I should havesuffered in my conscience” (P, pp. 267–268). Captain Wentworth replieswith a more relevant and painful counterfactual: “Tell me if, when Ireturned to England in the year eight, with a few thousand pounds,and was posted into the Laconia, if I had then written to you, wouldyou have answered my letter? would you, in short, have renewed theengagement then?” Anne of course would have. Captain Wentworthadmits, “I was proud, too proud to ask again. I did not understandyou. I shut my eyes, and would not understand you, or do you justice.. . . Six years of separation and suffering might have been spared” (P,p. 268). Obsessed with what he considers Anne’s persuadability, purposefullytrying not to understand her, not considering whether Anne’spreference for him might endure while considerations of caution andsafety are assuaged over time, Captain Wentworth acts in a mannereven more inconstant.As for inconstancy, Austen playfully considers how it is not necessarilya well-defined concept. Frank Churchill’s visits to Highbury areunpredictable because he must be given leave by his adoptive motherMrs. Churchill. Emma complains, “it seems to depend upon nothingbut the ill-humour of Mrs. Churchill, which I imagine to be the mostcertain thing in the world.” But Mrs. Weston replies, “My Emma! .. . what is the certainty of caprice?” (E, p. 131). Is it possible to beconstantly inconstant? Does being inconstantly inconstant mean thatyou are sometimes constant? After Mr. Bingley tells Mrs. Bennet that“if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in fiveminutes,” Mr. Darcy faults him for seeming to take pride in his ownductility (PP, p. 46). Mr. Darcy suggests that even if Mr. Bingley wereon his horse ready to leave, if a friend told him that he should stay,he would just as easily decide to stay for another month. Mr. Bingleyjokes that Mr. Darcy would rather him “ride off as fast as I could,” and204

Elizabeth cannot help but remark, “Would Mr. Darcy then considerthe rashness of your original intention as atoned for by your obstinacyin adhering to it?” (PP, p. 54). Mr. Bingley had been discouraged byMr. Darcy’s opinion that Jane did not return his affection, but is easilyreconvinced when Mr. Darcy assures him that she really does love him.“Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing hisfriend,” and indeed in so easily returning to his original position, it isnot clear whether Mr. Bingley should be valued for being ductile orsteadfast (PP, p. 411).After recovering from her illness, Marianne’s resolution to becomemore studious is driven by a zeal as unflagging as ever: “Elinor honouredher for a plan which originated so nobly as this; though smilingto see the same eager fancy which had been leading her to the extremeof languid indolence and selfish repining, now at work in introducingexcess into a scheme of such rational employment and virtuousself-control” (SS, p. 389). In trying to abruptly change her own preferencesand character, Marianne acts in a way deeply consistent with herpersonality; for her, changing herself slowly and judiciously would bemore truly inconstant. The uncontrolled eagerness which had attachedher so rapidly and miserably with Willoughby serves in good steadwhen she marries Colonel Brandon: “Marianne could never love byhalves; and her whole heart became, in time, as much devoted to herhusband, as it had once been to Willoughby” (SS, p. 430).Whether Marianne’s eagerness makes her inconstant or constantdepends on when the question is asked; when she switches her affectionsfrom Willoughby to Colonel Brandon, it makes her inconstantbut once attached to Colonel Brandon, it makes her constant. WhenMr. Bingley is persuaded to drop Jane, his guidability makes him inconstantbut when he is reconvinced, it makes him constant. Whenshould a person’s constancy be evaluated? Only at the end, accordingto Elizabeth Bennet; after she and Mr. Darcy understand their affectionfor each other, she declares that her previous feelings should beentirely discounted: “The feelings of the person who wrote, and theperson who received it, are now so widely different from what theywere then, that every unpleasant circumstance attending it, ought to be205

forgotten. You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of thepast as its remembrance gives you pleasure” (PP, p. 409).206

12Austen on strategic thinking’s disadvantagesNo analysis of strategic thinking would be complete without recognizingits costs and disadvantages. Few game theorists go this far,but Austen’s ambition is more comprehensive.First and most obviously, strategic thinking takes mental effort, infiguring out others’ motivations, coming up with a plan, and implementingit. One’s strategic thinking capacity is not infinite and strategicthinking competes with other cognitive demands. Elizabeth early onmisperceives Mr. Darcy partly because she devotes all of her detectionefforts toward Mr. Bingley: “Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley’s attentionsto her sister, Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she washerself becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend” (PP,p. 25). After Mr. Darcy’s proposal, it takes effort for Elizabeth to holdin the news and carefully strategize about how to tell her sister Janewithout disappointing her: “It was not without an effort meanwhilethat she could wait even for Longbourn, before she told her sister ofMr. Darcy’s proposals. . . . [She felt] such a temptation to openness asnothing could have conquered, but the state of indecision in which sheremained, as to the extent of what she should communicate; and herfear . . . of being hurried into repeating something of Bingley, whichmight only grieve her sister further” (PP, p. 241). When Mr. Bingleyvisits the Bennets with Mr. Darcy after a long absence, “Jane was anxiousthat no difference should be perceived in her at all, and was reallypersuaded that she talked as much as ever. But her mind was so busilyengaged, that she did not always know when she was silent”; the taskof playing it cool is demanding enough to keep her from being able tomonitor her own conversation (PP, p. 373).207

After Anne talks to Captain Wentworth at a concert in Bath, his“sentences begun which he could not finish—his half averted eyes,and more than half expressive glance,—all, all declared that he hada heart returning to her at least. . . . He must love her. These werethoughts, with their attendant visions, which occupied and flurriedher too much to leave her any power of observation; and she passedalong the room without having a glimpse of him, without even tryingto discern him. When their places were determined on, and they wereall properly arranged, she looked round to see if he should happento be in the same part of the room, but he was not; her eye couldnot reach him” (P, p. 202). Anne’s occupation in interpreting CaptainWentworth’s feelings and projecting their implications for the future,their attendant visions, has real costs in that she loses the chance ofbeing able to sit next to him. But Anne accepts that her strategic skill isnot unbounded, and that “she must consent for a time to be happy in ahumbler way” (PP, p. 202). Note that Captain Wentworth’s feelings arein part indicated by his own cognitive difficulty in forming completesentences. Mr. Woodhouse’s statement that “Emma never thinks ofherself, if she can do good to others. . . . But, my dear, pray do not makeany more matches,” is intended to be a testament to Emma’s kindnessbut is more accurately a statement that Emma spends so much timemanipulating others that she does not think about her own wants (E,p. 12).If you are known to have strategic skills, you can be overburdenedby others’ requests. When Anne stays with her sister Mary, she isburdened with “too much confidence by all parties. . . . Known to havesome influence with her sister, she was continually requested, or atleast receiving hints to exert it, beyond what was practicable. ‘I wishyou could persuade Mary not to be always fancying herself ill,’ wasCharles’s language; and, in an unhappy mood, thus spoke Mary;—‘Ido believe if Charles were to see me dying, he would not think therewas anything the matter with me. I am sure, Anne, if you would, youmight persuade him that I really am very ill’ ” (P, p. 48).Another cost of strategic thinking is a more complicated moral life.Elinor has to do all the lying because Marianne does not want to: “it208

was impossible for [Marianne] to say what she did not feel, howevertrivial the occasion; and upon Elinor therefore the whole task of tellinglies when politeness required it, always fell” (PP, p. 141). Elinor mustpay the cost, in both effort and honesty, that Marianne cannot bear.Less trivially, Jane Fairfax admits that the “consciousness of havingdone amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made hercaptious and irritable” while keeping her engagement secret (E, p. 457).If Jane Fairfax were more like Marianne or Anne Steele and could nothelp but burst out, her plan to marry Frank Churchill might have beenendangered, but at least she would not have had to endure a “life ofdeceit” (E, p. 501).Being good at strategic thinking enlarges the scope of regret, as youbecome more responsible, or at least consider yourself more responsible,for a wider range of outcomes. When Emma is shocked to hear thatMr. Knightley might be interested in Harriet Smith, “if Harriet were tobe the chosen . . . what could be increasing Emma’s wretchedness butthe reflection never far distant from her mind, that it had been all herown work?” (E, p. 460).Strategic thinking can be morally compromising, as it allows youto better create excuses for others’ behavior. Emma tells Mr. Knightleythat they should excuse Frank Churchill’s long delay in paying hisrespects to his new mother-in-law Mrs. Weston because of the difficultyof releasing himself from his adopted family the Churchills: “I wishyou would try to understand what an amiable young man may be likelyto feel in directly opposing those, whom as child and boy he has beenlooking up to all his life” (E, p. 159). When Fanny warns Edmund thatHenry Crawford seems to be interested in the engaged Maria, Edmundexplains it away by saying, “I believe it often happens, that a man,before he has quite made up his own mind, will distinguish the sisteror intimate friend of the woman he is really thinking of, more than thewoman herself” (MP, p. 136–137).Simply having strategic insights present in your mind can bepainful, regardless of how useful they are. Elizabeth tries to convinceJane that Caroline Bingley and Mr. Darcy are trying to prevent Mr. Bingleyfrom marrying her, and Jane replies, “I have no idea of there being209

so much design in the world as some persons imagine. . . . Do notdistress me by the idea” (PP, p. 154–155). Jane might be in denial, buteven someone as hard-headed as Elizabeth would not wish upon anyonewhat Fanny has to go through when she must help Edmund andMary Crawford rehearse Lovers’ Vows together and thereby contemplatewhat their rehearsal might lead to. Fanny, prompting Edmundand Mary from the script, is forced to “feel too much. . . . [A]gitatedby the increasing spirit of Edmund’s manner, [Fanny] had once closedthe page and turned away exactly as he wanted help. It was imputedto very reasonable weariness, and she was thanked and pitied; but shedeserved their pity more than she hoped they would ever surmise”(MP, p. 199–200).In some situations, it is better to be unstrategic and not think toomuch about what others will do. Mr. Collins looks for a bride insequential order: he plans to propose to Jane first, he proposes toElizabeth next, and finally succeeds with Charlotte. His algorithmis quite unstrategic in that he does not think much about how eachtarget will react, for example how she might feel knowing that shewas a second or third choice. But if Mr. Collins simply wants to getmarried, his method is admirably direct, and compares favorably tothe haphazardness of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, who create their ownobstacles, and the passivity of Captain Wentworth and Anne, whosuffer for eight years, unsure of each other’s feelings. Mr. Collinsfollows Aunt Eller’s advice of “Whyn’t you jist grab her and kiss her”(O, p. 5).Being good at strategic thinking can keep people from helpingyou. For her sister’s and mother’s sake, Elinor holds inside the secretof Lucy’s engagement and pretends as if she doesn’t care about Edward.When Elinor, Marianne, and Mrs. Dashwood learn that Lucyhas become Mrs. Ferrars, and therefore conclude (as it turns out, erroneously)that she married Edward, Mrs. Dashwood “was shockedto perceive by Elinor’s countenance how much she really suffered”and “found that she had been misled by the careful, the considerateattention of her daughter. . . . She feared that under this persuasion shehad been unjust, inattentive, nay, almost unkind, to her Elinor” (SS,210

pp. 400, 403). Had Elinor been less skillful, Mrs. Dashwood could havecomforted her earlier.Strategic thinking is not the same as craftiness or cunning, but it isnot charming. When Catherine breaks her date with the Tilneys to goon a walk, she is not entirely at fault, since the rain made the originalplan uncertain and the Tilneys did not show up precisely on time. Butshe speeds toward Henry Tilney to apologize: “Feelings rather naturalthan heroic possessed her . . . instead of proudly resolving . . . to leaveto him all the trouble of seeking an explanation . . . she took to herselfall the shame of misconduct, or at least of its appearance, and wasonly eager for an opportunity of explaining its cause” (NA, p. 92).Catherine could have tried to get Henry to make the first move, butinstead she goes for what is natural, and this lack of strategicness iswinning. Elizabeth teases her sister Jane: “With your good sense, to beso honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others! Affectation ofcandour is common enough. . . . But to be candid without ostentationor design . . . belongs to you alone” (PP, p. 16). Elizabeth, like FlossieFinley, is aware that what seems like naivety can itself be a strategy, andprizes Jane for being genuinely non-strategic. When Mr. Bingley jokes,“to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful,” Elizabeth assureshim that “[i]t does not follow that a deep, intricate character is more orless estimable than such a one as yours” (PP, p. 46).Why is artlessness charming? For men, “imbecility in femalesis a great enhancement of their personal charms” (NA, p. 112) and awoman’s lack of agency can be attractive in itself, for example whenHenry Crawford falls in love with Fanny. Emma, reflecting to herself,has a similar attitude toward Harriet: “Warmth and tenderness of heart,with an affectionate, open manner, will beat all the clearness of head inthe world, for attraction. . . . Harriet is my superior in all the charm andall the felicity it gives. Dear Harriet!—I would not change you for theclearest-headed, longest-sighted, best-judging female breathing” (MP,p. 289). Emma regards tenderness of heart as the opposite of clearthinking, farsightedness, and good judgment, and prizes Harriet forbeing easily knowable and guidable. Artless people are convenientbecause you can put them in any slot you want, such as wife or Frank211

Churchill’s love interest, without having to think about what they wantor what they will do.Artlessness can also be appreciated as sincerity. Anne Elliot “couldso much more depend upon the sincerity of those who sometimeslooked or said a careless or a hasty thing, than of those whose presenceof mind never varied, whose tongue never slipped” (P, p. 175). A strategicaction is not necessarily insincere; for example when Elinor holdsin Lucy’s secret, she might not be open with Marianne but she is notinsincere; if anything, she is sincerely withholding the truth. But whena person is evidently unstrategic, a listener can conclude that there areno hidden motivations for their statements. When Catherine meetsEleanor Tilney for the second time, “ ‘How well your brother dances!’was an artless exclamation of Catherine’s towards the close of their conversation,which at once surprised and amused her companion” (NA,p. 70). After Sir Thomas comes home and discovers Lovers’ Vows inproduction, Tom Bertram and Mr. Yates try to spin their way out, sayingthat Sir Thomas himself had “so often encouraged the sort of thing in usformerly” (MP, p. 216). The dullard Mr. Rushworth finally pronounces,“I am not so fond of acting as I was at first. I think we are a great dealbetter employed, sitting comfortably here among ourselves, and doingnothing,” receiving Sir Thomas’s approval (MP, pp. 217–218). AfterTom’s and Mr. Yates’s slickness, Mr. Rushworth’s painful sincerity isfor once well-timed, and “[i]t was impossible for many of the othersnot to smile” (MP, p. 218). When Emma meets Frank Churchill for thefirst time, she knows that Frank’s father Mr. Weston has hopes that thetwo might marry: “She had no doubt of what Mr. Weston was oftenthinking about. His quick eye she detected again and again glancing towardsthem with a happy expression.” In comparison, Mr. Woodhouseis comfortably clueless: “Her own father’s perfect exemption from anythought of the kind, the entire deficiency in him of all such sort ofpenetration or suspicion, was a most comfortable circumstance. . . . Sheblessed the favouring blindness. He could now, without the drawbackof a single unpleasant surmise, without a glance forward at any possibletreachery in his guest, give way to all his natural kind-hearted civility212

in solicitous inquiries after Mr. Frank Churchill’s accommodation onhis journey” (E, p. 207–208).If others do not think you are strategic, then they confide in you,thinking that you cannot possibly be leading them on. Before MaryCrawford leaves for London, she checks in with Fanny about Edmund’sinterest: “she had hoped to hear some pleasant assurance of her power,from one who she thought must know” (MP, p. 335). Edmund is visitingMr. Owen, who has marriageable sisters, and when Mary asks,“perhaps you do not think him likely to marry at all—or not at present,”she is relieved to hear Fanny reply, “No, I do not” (MP, p. 336). Marydoes not realize that Fanny has her own interest in Edmund’s singleness,and that she is revealing to Fanny her own desperation and givingFanny the opportunity to manipulate her expectations. In answeringthat Edmund will not soon marry, Fanny “hop[es] she did not err eitherin the belief or the acknowledgment of it”; Fanny is aware thather answer is not just a matter of factual correctness but has strategicimplications. If Fanny says that Mary need not worry about the Owensisters, Mary will think Edmund more truly attached to her, and Fannydoes not want to encourage Mary; on the other hand, if Fanny saysthat Edmund is at risk from the Owen sisters, then Mary might makea strong preemptive move toward Edmund, which for Fanny might beeven worse. Fanny makes her decision and hopes for the best. Mary,perhaps suspecting Fanny’s strategicness, “looked at her keenly; andgather[ed] greater spirit from the blush soon produced from such alook” (MP, p. 336). Mary is assured by Fanny’s blush, which seems toguarantee sincerity.Similarly, if others think you are strategic, they sometimes thinkyou already know things which you don’t. Mrs. Weston worriesthat Emma must be severely disappointed about the engagement ofFrank Churchill and Jane Fairfax, and thus hesitates telling her directly:“Have you indeed no idea? . . . Cannot you, my dear Emma—cannotyou form a guess as to what you are to hear?” (E, p. 430). Harriet alsoasks Emma, “Had you any idea . . . of his being in love with her?—You,perhaps, might.—You (blushing as she spoke) who can see into everybody’sheart” (E, p. 441). Frank Churchill writes to Mrs. Weston that213

he should not be blamed for his casual familiarity with Emma becauseEmma must have known that he was engaged: “I remember that I waswithin a moment of confessing the truth, and I then fancied she was notwithout suspicion; but I have no doubt of her having since detected me,at least in some degree.—She may not have surmised the whole, buther quickness must have penetrated a part” (E, p. 478). These examplesare illustrative but trivial compared to the misunderstanding followingMr. Knightley’s admission that he envies Frank Churchill. Emmathinks that “[t]hey seemed to be within half a sentence of Harriet” andpauses for a moment, trying to figure out how to change the subject,but Mr. Knightley interrupts, “You will not ask me what is the point ofenvy.—You are determined, I see, to have no curiosity.—You are wise—but I cannot be wise. Emma, I must tell you what you will not ask,though I may wish it unsaid the next moment.” Mr. Knightley knowsthat Emma is strategically skilled, and thus when Emma does not askwhat he envies, he concludes that she must not want to receive hisdeclaration of affection. Since he knows that Emma is a quick thinker,he takes her pause as an expression of indifference; such a pause froma slower-thinking person would mean nothing. Emma compounds theerror by replying, “Oh! then, don’t speak it, don’t speak it. . . . Takea little time, consider, do not commit yourself” (E, p. 467). LuckilyEmma reconsiders and continues the conversation, averting disaster.For Mr. Knightley, to be sincere one cannot be wise.Being strategically skilled can you make you see strategicnesswhere none exists. As mentioned before, when Mrs. Jennings handsMarianne a letter from her mother, Marianne is severely disappointedthat it is not from Willoughby, and angrily blames Mrs. Jennings for intentionallyharming her, even though “Mrs. Jennings was governed init by an impulse of the utmost good-will” (SS, p. 229). When Elizabethvisits the Collins residence after Charlotte’s marriage, she thinks thatMr. Collins is trying to impress her with the lifestyle she could havehad if she had accepted his proposal: “she could not help fancying thatin displaying the good proportion of the room, its aspect and its furniture,he addressed himself particularly to her, as if wishing to makeher feel what she had lost in refusing him” (SS, p. 177). This thought is214

not unreasonable, but later when Elizabeth and Charlotte sit togetherin the house, “Elizabeth at first had rather wondered that Charlotteshould not prefer the dining parlour for common use; it was a bettersized room, and had a pleasanter aspect; but she soon saw that herfriend had an excellent reason for what she did, for Mr. Collins wouldundoubtedly have been much less in his own apartment, had they satin one equally lively; and she gave Charlotte credit for the arrangement”(SS, p. 189). This conclusion, that Charlotte purposefully sits inan unattractive room to avoid Mr. Collins, goes too far. Elizabeth hasno reason to believe, for example, that any difference in pleasantnessamong rooms even registers with Mr. Collins, who is hardly an aesthete.Perhaps Elizabeth wants to believe that she and Charlotte are still close,as only a close friend would appreciate Charlotte’s strategicness.Being good at strategic thinking can make you proud. Emma isof course the best example: after Mrs. Weston tells her that she thinksthat Mr. Knightley likes Jane Fairfax, Emma maneuvers Mr. Knightleyinto saying that he has no interest in Jane, and after he leaves, Emmagloats “triumphantly”: “Well, Mrs. Weston . . . what do you say nowto Mr. Knightley’s marrying Jane Fairfax?” Mrs. Weston replies, “Donot beat me” (E, p. 312). Another example is Fanny Dashwood, who,“rejoicing in her escape, and proud of the ready wit that had procuredit,” invites Lucy and Anne Steele to create an excuse to not inviteEleanor and Marianne (SS, p. 287). Not quite as blatantly, EdmundBertram tells Fanny that Henry Crawford should have consulted himbefore proposing to her: “I wish he had known you as well as I do,Fanny. Between us, I think we should have won you. My theoreticaland his practical knowledge together, could not have failed. He shouldhave worked upon my plans” (MP, p. 402). Edmund, however wrong,thinks that Henry should have acknowledged his superior theoretical(strategic) knowledge and personal knowledge of Fanny. Similarly,after Catherine tells Henry Tilney and Elinor Tilney that Isabella brokeher engagement with Catherine’s brother James, Henry Tilney, who“believes that he knows women’s minds better than they do” (Johnson1988, p. 37), sounds like he is trying to win a mind-reading contest:“You feel, I suppose, that in losing Isabella, you lose half yourself:215

you feel a void in your heart which nothing else can occupy. Society isbecoming irksome; and as for the amusements in which you were wontto share at Bath, the very idea of them without her is abhorrent. Youwould not, for instance, now go to a ball for the world. You feel thatyou have no longer any friend to whom you can speak with unreserve;on whose regard you can place dependence; or whose counsel, in anydifficulty, you could rely on. You feel all this?” Catherine responds,“No . . . I do not—ought I?” (NA, pp. 212–213).The first step in strategic thinking is to realize that other people canthink differently from you; when you are overconfident in your ownstrategic ability, you think that other people are so transparent that youagain confuse your idea of what they are thinking with what they arein fact thinking. According to Schulz (2010, p. 331), “Pride and Prejudiceis a book about people who, believing themselves to be astute scholarsof human nature, persistently and dramatically misunderstand eachother.” Elizabeth wants to think that Charlotte is still close to herand obviously shares her opinion about Mr. Collins, Edmund wants tothink that he knows Fanny best, and Henry Tilney when first meetingCatherine is willing to predict exactly what she will write in his journalabout him, wants to enhance his status as telepathic tutor. Of course,Elizabeth soon learns the extent to which she can misunderstand others(notably Mr. Darcy), Edmund learns from Mary Crawford how wronghis estimation of others can be, and Henry Tilney learns that takingCatherine’s concerns (which she says out loud, telepathy being unnecessary)for granted leaves her at the mercy of his father. “[B]lindness isthe reward of assuming a godlike control” (Knox-Shaw 2004, pp. 199–200). True strategic wisdom requires not only skill at detecting others’motivations, foreseeing others’ actions, and intervening creatively, butalso recognizing that being completely wrong is always possible. AnneElliot exemplifies this awareness, but is perhaps overconcerned witherror; wisdom should not immobilize.216

13Austen’s intentionsMy central claim is that Austen systematically explores strategicthinking and how it is learned. Is this Austen’s intention? If not, onewould have to explain the inclusion of many particular and otherwiseunnecessary details, such as Mr. John Knightley’s claim that post officeclerks are reliable not just out of habit but because they are paid for it,Fanny’s manipulation of Betsey, and Elizabeth’s argument to Jane thatthe pain of upsetting Mr. Bingley’s sisters relative to the joy of marryinghim is best measured by whether Jane chooses to refuse him. Onecould say that strategic thinking is so integral to human interaction thatit cannot be avoided by anyone, including Austen, interested in its finedetail. But this does not explain Austen’s fairly direct theoretical statements,such as Elinor’s doctrine that others should influence only yourbehavior, not your understanding, or Henry Tilney’s telling Catherinethat she thinks of others’ actions in terms of her own motivations.??preponderance of evidence, ponderous evidenceThe question of intention is not essential for Austen in any case.General Tilney first invites and later expels Catherine from NorthangerAbbey; these two actions are taken with completely opposite intentions,but both create opportunities for Catherine to better secureHenry’s heart. Lady Catherine orders Elizabeth to promise not tomarry Mr. Darcy, but thereby unintentionally creates an opportunityfor Elizabeth to send a message to him. Does Elizabeth anticipate thatLady Catherine will tell Mr. Darcy that she refused to promise not tomarry him? Does Elizabeth rebuff Lady Catherine with the explicitintention of giving hope to Mr. Darcy? We do not know, but Elizabethloses little by trying. We know that Sir Thomas sends Fanny toPortsmouth with the intention of getting her to marry Henry Crawford217

and Mrs. Allen takes Catherine to Bath with no intentions whatsoever.Does Mrs. Gardiner bring Elizabeth to Pemberley with the intentionof possibly running into Mr. Darcy? Does Mrs. Croft persuade herhusband Admiral Croft into renting Kellynch Hall with the intentionof bringing her brother Captain Wentworth into Anne’s vicinity? Wehave no direct evidence on these questions, but it does not matter much;what is important is what our heroines do once given these opportunities.Regardless of whether Austen intends to impart strategic wisdomin her novels, it is up to the reader to receive it.To understand Austen’s intentions, it might help to consider herintellectual milieu. Referring to British Enlightenment ideas circulatingat the time, Rogers (2006, p. xliii) writes that Austen “was a novelist andwe do her most serious art no service if we ask it to perform philosophictasks in which she had little or no ascertainable interest.” However,Moler (1967) and Knox-Shaw (2004, p. 87–88) find that Austen echoesspecific passages from Adam Smith’s (1759 [2009]) Theory of Moral Sentiments,evidence that she took interest in his arguments. I wouldsimply suggest that strategic thinking should be interesting to anyone,Austen and Smith alike. Knox-Shaw (2004, p. 23) argues that Austen’sextreme attention to detail is due to an empirical bent, and “by analogywith other kinds of discourse that are empirically grounded, the‘experimental’ novel does not need to offer a general theory in order tohave real significance.” This is sympathetic to Austen but understatesher ambition and contribution; in any case often the most far-reachingtheories, in social science and science generally, arise out of empiricalobservation.The most specific “smoking gun” evidence that Austen is centrallyconcerned with strategic thinking is how she employs children. Almostalways, when a child appears, it is in a strategic context. Children oftentake on roles in an adult’s strategic actions. For example, when theDashwoods meet Lady Middleton for the first time, “Lady Middletonhad taken the wise precaution of bringing with her their eldest child, afine little boy about six years old. . . . On every formal visit a child oughtto be of the party, by way of provision for discourse” (SS, pp. 36–37).When the Steele sisters want to suck up to Lady Middleton, they know218

that their best move is to praise her children: “a fond mother . . . inpursuit of praise for her children . . . will swallow any thing; and theexcessive affection and endurance of the Miss Steeles towards her offspring,were viewed therefore by Lady Middleton without the smallestsurprise or distrust” (SS, p. 139). Anne’s nephew Charles convenientlyfalls and dislocates his collarbone, allowing her to take care of himand thereby delay the anxiety of seeing Captain Wentworth after eightyears apart. Later her two-year-old nephew Walter attaches himself toher back, enabling Captain Wentworth to wordlessly show affection toher by lifting him off. After their disagreement over whether RobertMartin is of sufficient stature to wed Harriet Smith, Emma uses hereight-month-old niece to reconcile with Mr. Knightley: “she hoped itmight rather assist the restoration of friendship, that when he cameinto the room she had one of the children with her” (E, p. 105).Children are also brought in as students of strategic thinking themselves.As discussed earlier, the younger sisters Kitty Bennet, MargaretDashwood, and Sarah Morland start laughably unsophisticated but bythe end learn. For example, after Kitty Bennet tells her father than shewill not run away like Lydia, Mr. Bennet, who cannot stop joking evenin a desperate situation, exclaims, “No, Kitty, I have at last learnt tobe cautious, and you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever toenter into my house again, nor even to pass through the village” andKitty, “who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry” (PP,pp. 330, 331). But later when Mr. Bingley shows up unexpectedly earlyfor a dinner appointment at the Bennet residence, making Mrs. Bennethurry her daughters’ hair and dress preparations, Jane notes that“Kitty is forwarder than either of us, for she went up stairs half an hourago” (PP, p. 381). When James Morland is engaged to Isabella Thorpe,Isabella’s younger sisters Anne and Maria are expected to figure it outfor themselves, and of course Susan learns from Fanny’s manipulationof Betsey. After Emma and Mr. Knightley are engaged, Mr. Knightleywonders why his brother does not seem entirely surprised, andguesses, “I dare say there was a difference when I was staying withthem the other day. I believe I did not play with the children quite somuch as usual. I remember one evening the poor boys saying, ‘Uncle219

seems always tired now’ ” (E, pp. 507–508). Thus the task of sensingMr. Knightley’s affections is imputed to children.A child’s strategizing begins the Dashwoods’ plight: Elinor andMarianne’s father Mr. Henry Dashwood had been the heir of his uncle,and had depended on his inheritance for the maintenance of his wifeand daughters; however, this uncle decided to leave Norland whollyto the four-year-old son of Henry Dashwood’s son John. This revisionwas accomplished “by such attractions as are by no means unusual inchildren of two or three years old; an imperfect articulation, an earnestdesire of having his own way, many cunning tricks, and a great deal ofnoise” (SS, p. 5). But the birth of a child also initiates a chain of strategicactions which in the end brings Elinor victory: to take care of her newgrandchild, Mrs. Jennings leaves Marianne and Elinor alone in London,John Dashwood thus suggests to his wife that his sisters should staywith them, his wife Fanny Dashwood thus invites Lucy and AnneSteele instead to keep Elinor away from her brother Edward Ferrars,Anne observes the Ferrars family’s fondness for Lucy and reveals Lucyand Edward’s secret engagement, Edward is thrown off by his family,and thus Lucy releases him from his engagement, leaving him free topropose to Elinor.Even very young children learn how to strategize. Lady Middleton’sson John learns how to provoke by “taking Miss Steele’s pockethandkerchief, and throwing it out of window,” and her three-year-olddaughter Annamaria, after she is accidentally scratched by a pin, isshowered with attention and sugar plums: “With such a reward forher tears, the child was too wise to cease crying” (SS, pp. 139, 140).Learning strategic thinking starts in childhood, and thus lessonsmissed in your childhood can trip you up later. Mr. Darcy tells Elizabeth:“As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught tocorrect my temper. . . . I was spoilt by my parents, who . . . allowed,encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing. . . . Youtaught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous” (PP,p. 409–410). Mr. Darcy’s lesson is that a proposal is a strategic situationand you cannot take a woman’s answer for granted: “I came to you220

without a doubt of my reception. You shewed me how insufficientwere all my pretensions” (PP, p. 410).One can always learn more about strategic thinking, throughoutone’s life. Emma learns that overstrategizing has its pitfalls, and hopesthat “the lessons of her past folly might teach her humility and circumspectionin future” (E, p. 519). When Edmund says that he will writeFanny when he has important news, Fanny realizes that he must betalking about his planned proposal to Mary Crawford, and notes howstrange it is “[t]hat a letter from Edmund should be a subject of terror!. . . The vicissitudes of the human mind had not yet been exhausted byher” (MP, p. 431). Even someone as old as Sir Thomas is instructed bytime that one’s preferences can change as circumstances change: “thehigh sense of having realised a great acquisition in the promise of Fannyfor a daughter, formed just such a contrast with his early opinion onthe subject when the poor little girl’s coming had been first agitated, astime is for ever producing between the plans and decisions of mortals,for their own instruction, and their neighbour’s entertainment” (MP,p. 546). When Mr. Darcy says, “I certainly have not the talent whichsome people possess . . . of conversing easily with those I have neverseen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interestedin their concerns,” Elizabeth, seated at the pianoforte, repliesthat it’s about practice, not talent: “My fingers . . . do not move overthis instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women’sdo. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce thesame expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my ownfault—because I will not take the trouble of practising. It is not that Ido not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman’s of superiorexecution” (PP, p. 197). It is always possible to learn.Strategic thinking is not part of a standard scholarly education.Anne’s friend Mrs. Smith praises her Nurse Rooke: “She is a shrewd,intelligent, sensible woman. Hers is a line for seeing human nature;and she has a fund of good sense and observation which, as a companion,make her infinitely superior to thousands of those who havingonly received ‘the best education in the world,’ know nothing worthattending to” (P, pp. 168–169). The traditional scholarly disciplines are221

no help either. As mentioned earlier, when Frank Churchill rescuesHarriet from the gypsies, even someone as strategically stupid as alinguist, grammarian, or mathematician should be able to see the opportunitypresented, and in comparison, “How much more must animaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation and foresight!” (E,p. 362). Strategic thinking is the field of study of the “imaginist,” whoseacademic specialty is no less important than the traditional fields of linguistics,grammar, and mathematics. “Imaginist,” coined by Austen,is perhaps the first specialized term for game theorist.The instructional materials for the imaginist are novels, “in whichthe most thorough knowledge of human nature [and] the happiestdelineation of its varieties . . . are conveyed to the world in the bestchosen language” (NA, p. 31). Nonfiction is not helpful: after Catherinereturns home and mopes over Henry Tilney, her mother uselessly asksher to read an essay from a book “about young girls that have beenspoilt for home by great acquaintance” (NA, p. 250). Mary Bennetlearns her useless maxims from “great books” on proper conduct (PP,p. 7).Evidence that Austen’s novels are textbooks in strategic thinkingis how they begin and end. All six novels are set into motion withsome sort of strategic manipulation. The cunning of John Dashwood’sfour-year-old son removes the Dashwood sisters and their mother fromNorland, and John Dashwood’s commitment to his father’s last requestthat he support them is whittled away by his wife down to “presents offish and game, and so forth, whenever they are in season” (SS, p. 13).Jane Bennet falls ill and stays at Netherfield because her mother senther on horseback in the rain. Emma sets up her governess Miss Taylorwith Mr. Weston, and decides upon Harriet Smith and Mr. Elton as hernext demonstration. Sir Walter Elliot lets out Kellynch Hall because hislawyer Mr. Shepherd finds Admiral Croft. Sir Thomas is convinced byMrs. Norris to take in Fanny only to find out “with some surprise, thatit would be totally out of Mrs. Norris’s power to take any share in thepersonal charge of her” (MP, p. 9). Catherine’s lessons start at Bath,but some unnamed entity must put her there: “when a young lady isto be a heroine, the perverseness of forty surrounding families cannot222

prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw a hero in herway” (NA, p. 9).The novels periodically include puzzles in strategic thinking. Forexample, in reviewing how Robert Ferrars and Lucy Steele ended upmarried, to Elinor’s “own heart it was a delightful affair, to her imaginationit was even a ridiculous one, but to her reason, her judgment,it was completely a puzzle” (SS, p. 412). When Henry explains toCatherine why his father kicked her out, Austen leaves the details tothe reader: “I leave it to my reader’s sagacity to determine how muchof all this it was possible for Henry to communicate at this time toCatherine, how much of it he could have learnt from his father, in whatpoints his own conjectures might assist him, and what portion mustyet remain to be told in a letter from James” (NA, p. 256). Todd (2006,p. 106) argues that in Austen’s novels, “The habit of guessing and puzzling. . . may influence the reader’s response and lead to detection ofhidden strategies. . . . [and] secret manoeuvrings.” Do the Knightleybrothers conspire to bring Harriet Smith and Robert Martin together inLondon, as Todd suggests? Does Mr. Shepherd encourage Sir Walterto reduce his expenses (by moving to Bath) for the sake of his daughterMrs. Clay, so that there will be more left of Sir Walter’s estate whenMrs. Clay possibly marries him? These puzzles are left for the reader.All six novels conclude with puzzles, exercises for the reader whichrequire coming up with the right manipulation. After Catherine andHenry Tilney are engaged, and wait only upon the consent of GeneralTilney, the question is posed: “what probable circumstance could workupon a temper like the General’s?” The answer is for Henry’s sisterEleanor to marry a viscount and thus she “obtained his forgivenessof Henry, and his permission for him ‘to be a fool if he liked it!’ ”(NA, pp. 259, 260). Lady Catherine “was extremely indignant on themarriage of her nephew . . . [and] sent him language so very abusive,especially of Elizabeth, that for some time all intercourse was at anend.” Thus Elizabeth persuades Mr. Darcy “to overlook the offence,and seek a reconciliation; and, after a little further resistance on the partof his aunt, her resentment gave way” (PP, p. 430). Similarly, after hisengagement to Elinor, even though Edward Ferrars justly believes that223

he is the one who deserves an apology, Elinor persuades him to go tohis sister Fanny and “personally intreat her good offices in his favour,”which results in Edward being readmitted into his own family (SS,p. 422); once this is accomplished, all that remains is for Marianne to bemanipulated into loving Colonel Brandon. The more mature Anne andCaptain Wentworth do not have to placate older relatives; the interestingquestion upon their engagement is what happens to Mr. WilliamElliot, who had been trying to marry Anne to keep Mrs. Clay awayfrom Sir Walter. Mr. Elliot and Mrs. Clay end up together, “and it isnow a doubtful point whether his cunning, or hers, may finally carrythe day; whether, after preventing her from being the wife of Sir Walter,he may not be wheedled and caressed at last into making her the wife ofSir William” (P, p. 273); just as Ali Hakim submits to Gertie, the strategicallysophisticated man in the end submits to the manipulations ofa woman. There are no objections to Fanny’s marriage also, but LadyBertram cannot part with her: “No happiness of son or niece couldmake her wish the marriage” (MP, p. 546). The answer to this puzzleis Susan, who “remained to supply her place.—Susan became the stationaryniece—delighted to be so! . . . With quickness in understandingthe tempers of those she had to deal with. . . she was soon welcome,and useful to all” (MP, p. 547).The most challenging puzzle is how Mr. Woodhouse’s reliance onEmma can be reconciled with her marrying. This has been a longstandingproblem for Emma, who had vowed earlier to never marrybecause of her father. With patient “continual repetition,” Mr. Woodhouse“began to think that some time or other—in another year or two,perhaps—it might not be so very bad if the marriage did take place”(E, pp. 509, 510). But the real solution is the arrival of poultry thievesin the neighborhood, which rattles Mr. Woodhouse excessively andmakes him eager for the protection of Mr. Knightley as resident son-inlaw.Thus Mr. Woodhouse’s fretful valetudinarianism finally pays off.This “accidental” manipulation comes out of nowhere, like the gypsieswho allow Frank Churchill to rescue Harriet, but it is not implausible.Austen shows us that it is always possible to overcome seeminglyimpossible situations with just the right change of circumstances, and224

what seems like a disadvantage, even the entire reason for the problemin the first place, can be used to your advantage. A successful manipulationis always possible if you are creative enough. Maybe thepilfering was just a rumor created by Emma or her confederates, asone of the poultry-houses reportedly robbed belonged to Mrs. Weston,Emma’s closest friend. Maybe Austen is showing off her own strategicthinking skills: the problem is posed at the very beginning of the novel,remains unchanged throughout, and the reader is given plenty of timeto think of a solution. For Austen it is easy.Anybody can be good (or bad) in strategic thinking, and anyonecan learn. But according to Austen, at least some aspects of strategicthinking are understood particularly by women. For example, Catherine’strying to avoid John but attract Henry at a ball is a situation which“every young lady has at some time or other known. . . . All havebeen, or at least all have believed themselves to be, in danger from thepursuit of some one whom they wished to avoid; and all have beenanxious for the attentions of some one whom they wished to please”(NA, p. 72). When Mr. Knightley proposes, and asks for Emma’s reply,“Her way was clear, though not quite smooth.—She spoke then,on being so entreated.—What did she say?—Just what she ought, ofcourse. A lady always does.— She said enough to show there need notbe despair—and to invite him to say more himself” (E, p. 470).There also seems to be an unspoken pact among women to respecteach other’s strategic abilities and not use them against each other.When Edmund tells Fanny that Mary Crawford does not understandhow Fanny could refuse her brother Henry’s proposal, and that “[s]hedesires the connection as warmly as your uncle or myself,” Fannyreplies, “I should have thought . . . that every woman must have felt thepossibility of a man’s not being approved, not being loved by some oneof her sex at least, let him be ever so generally agreeable” (MP, pp. 406,408). A woman’s right to refuse a proposal is something all womenshould uphold, and Fanny is particularly irked that fellow womanMary Crawford is willing to compromise on that right just to curryfavor with a man. When Emma tells Frank Churchill her suspicions thatthe pianoforte was sent to Jane Fairfax as a gesture of affection by the225

married Mr. Dixon, “She doubted whether she had not transgressed theduty of woman by woman, in betraying her suspicions of Jane Fairfax’sfeelings” (E, p. 249). Miss Bingley tells Mr. Darcy that Elizabeth “is oneof those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the othersex by undervaluing their own. . . . [I]n my opinion, it is a paltry device,a very mean art” (PP, p. 43). But of course in demeaning Elizabeth toMr. Darcy, Miss Bingley’s charge that Elizabeth lacks solidarity appliesbetter to herself. Mr. Darcy understands what she is doing and replies,“Undoubtedly . . . there is a meanness in all the arts which ladiessometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bearsaffinity to cunning is despicable” (PP, p. 44).Women might well codify and analyze their strategic knowledgein novels, but they are at a historical disadvantage: “Men have hadevery advantage of us in telling their own story. Education has beentheirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been in their hands”(P, p. 255). Indeed, the surest sign of Fanny’s deprivation during herfirst weeks at Mansfield Park is that “she had not any paper” on whichto write a letter to her brother (MP, p. 17). Given this disadvantage,women should remain in solidarity: “if the heroine of one novel benot patronized by the heroine of another, from whom can she expectprotection and regard? . . . Let us not desert one another; we are aninjured body” (NA, p. 30).Also, to avoid charges of meanness and cunning, perhaps somemisdirection is in order. Emma thinks that Mr. Elton’s drunken proposalto her was a private mortification, but the seemingly foolishMiss Bates knows about it (and if Miss Bates knows, everyone knows;Vermeule (2010, p. 183) calls her “the Greek chorus of the novel, herwords a vent through which its collective unconscious comes bubblingup”). When news is received that Mr. Elton has married, Miss Batessays, “Well, I had always rather fancied it would be some young ladyhereabouts; not that I ever——Mrs. Cole once whispered to me—butI immediately said, ‘No, Mr. Elton is a most worthy young man—but’——In short, I do not think I am particularly quick at those sort ofdiscoveries. I do not pretend to it. What is before me, I see. At the226

same time, nobody could wonder if Mr. Elton should have aspired.——Miss Woodhouse lets me chatter on, so good-humouredly. She knowsI would not offend for the world” (E, pp. 188–189). Here Miss Batescamouflages her insight with chatter and disclaimers. Catherine successfullyhints to Henry and Eleanor Tilney that Isabella Thorpe hasdumped her brother in favor of theirs. After they sympatheticallyshare her disappointment, “Catherine, by some chance or other, foundher spirits so very much relieved by this conversation, that she couldnot regret her being led on, though so unaccountably, to mention thecircumstance which had produced it” (NA, p. 213). Like Ado Annie,who after snaring Ali Hakim, exclaims that her father made their decisionfor them, Catherine states for the record that she was led onunaccountably. While exploring strategic thinking in novels, perhapswomen should best be not too explicit about it. As Elizabeth observes,“We all love to instruct, though we can teach only what is not worthknowing” (PP, p. 380).227

14Austen on cluelessnessSometimes people do not understand that other people make theirown decisions. I call this “cluelessness,” after the movie Clueless (1995),an adaptation of Austen’s Emma by Amy Heckerling. Austen’s treatmentof strategic thinking is unusually comprehensive, including discussionsof strategic thinking’s disadvantages and how it interacts withother models of human behavior. It is therefore not surprising thatAusten’s analysis of strategic thinking would extend to understandingits conspicuous absence, in other words cluelessness.Austen offers five explanations for cluelessness. The first is lack oftalent: some people are not “naturally” good at strategic thinking andare inclined instead toward numbers, visual detail, literal meaning, andclear status distinctions. The second is unfamiliarity with others’ differentpersonal experiences: an unmarried person for example is not sogood at understanding married people because he has not had the experienceyet of being married. Without lots of sincere communication,it is difficult to understand a person who has quite different experiences.The third is habitual and excessive self-reference, using yourselftoo much as a template for understanding others. The fourth is themaintenance of status: a higher-status person is not supposed to thinkabout the intentions of a lower-status person, and risks blurring thestatus distinction if she does. The fifth is that sometimes presumption,believing that one can directly manipulate others’ preferences, actuallyworks; you do not have to think about another person’s preferencesbecause you can change them to your will anyway.228

Lack of natural abilityAusten throughout emphasizes the importance of training forstrategic thinking, but sometimes allows natural ability as a factor.For example, Anne Elliot’s strategic ability compared to Lady Russell’sis due to a natural ability which trumps experience: “There is a quicknessof perception in some, a nicety in the discernment of character, anatural penetration, in short, which no experience in others can equal,and Lady Russell had been less gifted in this part of understandingthan her young friend” (P, p. 271).As mentioned earlier, being on the autistic spectrum is associatedwith weakness in understanding the mental states of others as well asnumeracy, attention to visual detail, and a fixation on literal meaning.This pattern emerges also among Austen’s weak strategic thinkers. Forexample, Mr. Collins is very concerned with exact numbers and visualdetail while showing Elizabeth his garden: “every view was pointedout with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. He couldnumber the fields in every direction, and could tell how many treesthere were in the most distant clump,” and tries to impress Elizabethwith “his enumeration of the windows in front of the house” of hissponsor Lady Catherine (PP, pp. 177, 182). Mr. Rushworth is similarlynumerate, defending the weightiness of his part in Lovers’ Vows bydeclaring that “The Count has two-and-forty speeches . . . which isno trifle” and helping Edmund play Anhalt by counting his speeches(NA, pp. 169, 186). When Emma hears that Frank Churchill appearedout of nowhere to rescue Harriet Smith from begging gypsies, “a fineyoung man and a lovely young woman thrown together in such a way,could hardly fail of suggesting certain ideas to the coldest heart andthe steadiest brain. . . . Could a linguist, could a grammarian, couldeven a mathematician have seen what she did, have witnessed theirappearance together, and heard their history of it, without feeling thatcircumstances had been at work to make them peculiarly interesting toeach other?” (E, p. 362). Linguists and grammarians are bad at strategicthinking but mathematicians are even worse.229

A good strategist should of course carefully observe others (especiallytheir eyes), but obsession with visual detail, usually about clothesand physical appearance, crowds out strategic thinking. For Mrs. Allen,“[d]ress was her passion,” and she spends days buying clothes to preparefor her and Catherine’s first ball at Bath, only to have no idea whatto do there other than wish that they knew someone (NA, p. 12). WhenCatherine eagerly apologizes to Henry Tilney for breaking her appointmentwith him and his sister, she appeals to Mrs. Allen for support:“You must have thought me so rude; but indeed it was not my ownfault,—was it, Mrs. Allen? Did not they tell me that Mr. Tilney and hissister were gone out in a phaeton together? and then what could I do?But I had ten thousand times rather have been with you; now had notI, Mrs. Allen?” To help Catherine out, all Mrs. Allen has to do is agree,but she does not understand and instead replies, “My dear, you tumblemy gown” (NA, pp. 92–93). Similarly, Mr. Rushworth is distracted easilyby color and finery. His fiancée Maria Bertram shares several sceneswith Henry Crawford in Lovers’ Vows and prevents Mr. Rushworthfrom suspecting anything by “pointing out the necessity of his beingvery much dressed, and choosing his colours. Mr. Rushworth liked theidea of his finery very well, though affecting to despise it, and was toomuch engaged with what his own appearance would be, to think ofthe others” (MP, p. 162). Mr. Rushworth is excited: “I am to be CountCassel, and am to come in first with a blue dress, and a pink satin cloak,and afterwards am to have another fine fancy suit by way of a shootingdress” (MP, p. 163). After Wickham has finally agreed to marry Lydia,Mrs. Bennet does not care or think about why Wickham made thisdecision. Jane thinks that her uncle Mr. Gardiner must have offeredhim a large sum of money and that her mother should understand“the obligations which Mr. Gardiner’s behaviour laid them all under”(PP, p. 338). Instead, Mrs. Bennet replies, “[w]e will settle with yourfather about the money afterwards; but the things should be orderedimmediately” and straight away “proceed[s] to all the particulars ofcalico, muslin, and cambric” (PP, p. 338). Anne’s father, Sir Walter, “atfifty-four, was still a very fine man. Few women could think more oftheir personal appearance than he did” (P, p. 4).230

A fixation with physical appearance can be more than just vanity;some people think about social interaction in general through physicalappearances. Catherine asks Mrs. Allen if Henry Tilney’s parents arealso visiting in Bath, and Mrs. Allen does not at first remember: “Yes, Ifancy they are, but I am not quite certain. Upon recollection, however,I have a notion they are both dead; at least the mother is; yes, I am sureMrs. Tilney is dead, because Mrs. Hughes told me there was a verybeautiful set of pearls that Mr. Drummond gave his daughter on herwedding-day and that Miss Tilney has got now, for they were put by forher when her mother died” (NA, p. 65). If not for the beautiful pearls,Mrs. Allen would not recall if Mrs. Tilney were alive or dead. For LadyBertram, the knowledge of her son Tom’s illness is nothing compared toactually seeing him: “The sufferings which Lady Bertram did not see,had little power over her fancy; and she wrote very comfortably aboutagitation and anxiety, and poor invalids, till Tom was actually conveyedto Mansfield, and her own eyes had beheld his altered appearance” (MP,p. 495). Mr. Rushworth is inspired to improve Sotherton after seeinghow a friend’s estate, Compton, has been renovated: “I wish you couldsee Compton. . . . The approach now is one of the finest things in thecountry. You see the house in the most surprising manner. I declarewhen I got back to Sotherton yesterday, it looked like a prison—quitea dismal old prison” (MP, p. 62). When his guests visit Sotherton tomake some improvement suggestions, Mr. Rushworth “scarcely riskedan original thought of his own beyond a wish that they had seen hisfriend Smith’s place” (MP, pp. 113–114). Mr. Rushworth understandshis friend’s place and his own in completely visual terms, and cannottalk about them in any other way; he can only wish that others see whathe sees. In Bath, Anne’s sister Elizabeth at first refuses to acknowledgeCaptain Wentworth, but later includes him in a party because he looksgood: “Elizabeth had been long enough in Bath, to understand theimportance of a man of such an air and appearance as his. . . . CaptainWentworth would move about well in her drawing-room” (P, pp. 245–246).231

A compelling physical appearance can lead even strategicallyskilled people into error. After Wickham claims that Mr. Darcy mistreatedhim, Elizabeth says that Wickham has “truth in his looks,” andas for Jane, “it was not in her nature to question the veracity of a youngman of such amiable appearance as Wickham” (PP, pp. 96, 95). But onceshe reads Mr. Darcy’s letter explaining his family’s history with Wickham,Elizabeth weighs Wickham’s appearance against actual evidence:“His countenance, voice, and manner, had established him at once inthe possession of every virtue. . . . She could see him instantly beforeher, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember nomore substantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood”(PP, p. 228). Realizing their error, Elizabeth and Jane recognizethe power of appearances. Jane exclaims, “Poor Wickham; there issuch an expression of goodness in his countenance! such an opennessand gentleness in his manner!” and Elizabeth, comparing Wickham toMr. Darcy, quips, “There certainly was some great mismanagement inthe education of those two young men. One has got all the goodness,and the other all the appearance of it” (PP, p. 250). Similarly, afterWilloughby’s late-night confession to Elinor, “[s]he felt that his influenceover her mind was heightened by circumstances which ought notin reason to have weight; by that person of uncommon attraction, thatopen, affectionate, and lively manner which it was no merit to possess”(SS, p. 377). Mr. Bennet married the foolish Mrs. Bennet because hewas “captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance of goodhumour, which youth and beauty generally give” (PP, p. 262).A fixation on literality, what words and symbols sound and looklike and their formal meaning, as opposed to what they mean in thesocial context in which they are spoken or written, is a related characteristic.Mr. Bennet jokes that his daughter Mary is learned becauseshe copies passages word for word from books: “Do you consider theforms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on them, as nonsense?. . . What say you, Mary? for you are a young lady of deep reflection, Iknow, and read great books and make extracts” (PP, p. 7). Mary, “one ofthe earliest examples of a nerd in a famous work of literature” (Nugent2009, p. 91), works hard on her music but performs with a “pedantic232

air and conceited manner” and cannot see how others see her, eagerlycontinuing to sing despite Elizabeth’s “significant looks and silent entreaties”for her to stop (PP, pp. 27, 112). In comparison, since JaneFairfax and Frank Churchill cannot speak openly to each other whilesecretly engaged, “Jane speaks, in effect, through the piano” (Wiltshire1997, p. 71). Mary, “deep in the study of thorough bass and humannature,” understands music as notes on a page, not as an interactionbetween performer and audience, and studies human nature in similarterms (PP, p. 67). After all, Mr. Bennet appeals to Mary as an authorityon the rules and forms of introduction, what one learns from etiquettebooks, as opposed to actual social interaction. When the Bennets receivea letter from Mr. Collins introducing himself and expressing hishope to make amends for being the one to inherit their home, Elizabethand Mr. Bennet puzzle over what exactly he means by this. Mary,however, observes that “[i]n point of composition . . . his letter does notseem defective. The idea of the olive branch perhaps is not wholly new,yet I think it is well expressed” (PP, p. 71). Instead of thinking aboutMr. Collins’s intentions, Mary is interested in the letter’s compositionand one stock phrase in particular. Mary likes Mr. Collins and “ratedhis abilities much higher than any of the others; there was a solidity inhis reflections which often struck her,” a solidity which is the oppositeof Elizabeth’s “quickness” (PP, pp. 139, 16).Emma’s first big mistake can be blamed on her excessive attentionto literality. Emma thinks that Mr. Elton must love Harriet because ofhis enthusiasm about Emma’s portrait of her; he calls it a “preciousdeposit” as he takes it to London to be framed (E, p. 51). But Mr. Eltonfinds precious Emma’s authorship and the social opportunity it provides(he can hang around and encourage her), not the portrait’s literalcontent. Mr. Woodhouse, like his daughter, sees the portrait literallyand worries that in the painting Harriet “seems to be sitting out ofdoors, with only a little shawl over her shoulders—and it makes onethink she must catch cold” (E, p. 51). In contrast, Mr. Elton praisesEmma’s artistic skill in placing Harriet out of doors: “I regard it asa most happy thought, the placing of Miss Smith out of doors. . . . Inever saw such a likeness” (E, p. 50). Similarly, when looking at a print233

of two men in a boat in a printshop window in Bath, Admiral Croftremarks to Anne, “What queer fellows your fine painters must be, tothink that any body would venture their lives in such a shapeless oldcockleshell as that,” and jokes, “laughing heartily,” “I wonder wherethat boat was built!” (P, pp. 183–184). Admiral Croft wonders aboutthe painter’s expertise, not the two men’s health, and knows that theboat’s seaworthiness is not a real issue but something to laugh about.Emma encourages Harriet to copy riddles for her own collection, likeMary Bennet, and asks Mr. Elton to contribute one. Mr. Elton deliversa charade to Emma and Harriet in which the last two lines are “Thyready wit the word will soon supply, May its approval beam in that softeye!” and Emma concludes that this is surely a declaration of love forHarriet (E, p. 76). Because of the charade’s intimate intent, Harriet feelsthat she cannot possibly copy it in her book, but Emma says it is fine aslong as she cuts off the last two lines which direct the riddle specificallytoward her: “They are not at all the less written you know, becauseyou divide them” (E, p. 82). Emma is completely willing to remove theliteral words of the charade from the social context indicated by its lasttwo lines and Mr. Elton’s personal delivery of it. Emma then proceedsto read the decontextualized version aloud to her father.Mrs. Allen likes to talk to herself: “while she sat at her work,if she lost her needle or broke her thread, if she heard a carriage inthe street, or saw a speck upon her gown, she must observe it aloud,whether there were anyone at leisure to answer her or not” (NA, p. 57).Mrs. Allen’s talking does not vary with the social context. When shetalks with Mrs. Thorpe, “in what they called conversation . . . there wasscarcely ever any exchange of opinion, and not often any resemblanceof subject” (NA, p. 30). For Mrs. Allen, conversation is about sayingwords. In contrast, Miss Bates overcontextualizes, inscribing meaningin the smallest personal details of a message’s reception: “If she isstanding in a particular posture when she hears a piece of news, herposture becomes at once a part of the event which it is her duty to handdown to tradition” (Simpson 1870 [1968], p. 259).Difficulty understanding the mental states of others, numeracy,attention to visual detail, and a fixation on literality are four common234

characteristics of people on the autistic spectrum. Ferguson Bottomer(2007, p. 113) finds that many other autistic spectrum characteristicsfit characters in Pride and Prejudice: for example, Mr. Darcy’s dislikeof dancing is shared by people on the autistic spectrum who have avery difficult time coordinating their body movements, especially withothers.These four characteristics can also be understood broadly as aninclination toward decontextualized literal meaning, as opposed to“illocutionary” meaning which depends on how things are said, whosays them, in what social setting, and so forth (Austin 1975). Numbers,colors, muslins, pearls, as well as words as studied by linguists andgrammarians, have “solidity” like Mr. Collins: thirty-nine is thirty-ninein almost all contexts. Of course, numbering systems, names of colorsand fabrics, and which gowns and jewelry are considered beautiful arederived from a social process and are not “absolute.” But it is helpful forcertain terms to have fixed and uncontingent meanings, at least in themedium term. When a head waiter asks me how many people are in myparty and I reply “three people,” there might be some fuzziness aboutwhat a “person” means in terms of restaurant seating (whether one ofus is a child or infant, whether one of us is in a wheelchair, whetherone of us will be arriving late), but there is little contextual variationin, and not much room for being strategic about, what “three” means.Austen acknowledges this despite (or perhaps because of) her emphasison strategic thinking. When Henry Tilney has to run off to prepare afeast for his father’s and Catherine’s upcoming visit, Catherine doesnot understand why such effort is necessary because General Tilneyexplicitly said, “Whatever you may happen to have in the house willbe enough” (NA, p. 216). Catherine thinks to herself, “why he shouldsay one thing so positively, and mean another all the while, was mostunaccountable! How were people, at that rate, to be understood?”(NA, p. 218). As Mr. Knightley tells Emma, “Mystery; Finesse—howthey pervert the understanding! My Emma, does not every thing serveto prove more and more the beauty of truth and sincerity in all ourdealings with each other?” (E, p. 486).235

In social life, social roles and status are one way to create literalmeaning. A person becomes a police officer after years of trainingand a long selection process, but at a given moment it is convenientto think that a person is a police officer because she is wearing a blueuniform and a badge. For those not good at strategic thinking, or foranyone in an unfamiliar or complicated social setting, social roles arequite helpful. Even Mr. Woodhouse can empathize with the help ofsocial roles: when Jane Fairfax is set to leave to become a governess,he tells Emma, “You know, my dear, she is going to be to this newlady what Miss Taylor was to us” (E, p. 421). Jane Fairfax’s welfareand social relations can be predicted because she will occupy the samerole, governess, that Miss Taylor did. Similarly, when Marianne fallsill under her care, Mrs. Jennings sympathizes with Mrs. Dashwood byplacing herself in the same social role, mother to an ill daughter: “whenMrs. Jennings considered that Marianne might probably be to her what[Mrs. Jennings’s daughter] Charlotte was to herself, her sympathy inher sufferings was very sincere” (SS, p. 354). Knox-Shaw (2004, p. 146)writes that “Mrs Jennings’s grief is redoubled by the way she thinksherself into Mrs Dashwood’s position.” In experiments, adults andyoung children on the autistic spectrum who are not good at theoryof mind tasks quite easily employ gender, race, and class stereotypes(Hirschfeld, Bartmess, White, and Frith 2007, White, Hill, Winston, andFrith 2006). The other causal direction is also possible: people whorely a lot on the cognitive crutch of social roles can become strategicallylazy.Thus an obsession with social roles and status, weak strategic thinking,numeracy, attention to visual detail, and a fixation on literality allgo together. Numerate Mr. Collins demonstrates his commitment to literalityby reading out loud three pages word for word out of Fordyce’sSermons (Morris (1987, p. 142) calls Mr. Collins a study of “the deadlyeffect of literalism”), and demonstrates his attention to social statusand dress simultaneously by telling Elizabeth, “Lady Catherine willnot think the worse of you for being simply dressed. She likes to havethe distinction of rank preserved” (PP, p. 182). Knox-Shaw (2004, p. 103)remarks that “Austen’s great brilliance in conceiving Collins was to join236

two seemingly incompatible stock-in-trades—the toadying lackey andthe presumptuous lover—and reveal their congruence.” Indeed, statusobsession and an inability to understand women as making their ownchoices go together.Sir Walter, Anne Elliot’s father, also exemplifies these attributes incombination. Sir Walter “considered the blessing of beauty as inferioronly to the blessing of a baronetcy” (P, p. 4). His attentions to socialstatus and physical appearance are also combined in his objections tothe Navy: “First, as being the means of bringing persons of obscurebirth into undue distinction, and raising men to honours which theirfathers and grandfathers never dreamt of; and secondly, as it cuts upa man’s youth and vigour most horribly; a sailor grows old soonerthan any other man” (P, p. 21). Before meeting Admiral Croft, SirWalter expects that “his face is about as orange as the cuffs and capesof my livery” (P, p. 24). Sir Walter understands Admiral Croft in termsof color, in particular an orange which indicates family status, as thecolors of a livery are those of the family arms (P, p. 346). Sir Walterobsessively reads his own family’s entry in the Baronetage, the literalrepresentation of his social status: “he could read his own history withan interest which never failed. . . . Walter Elliot, born March 1, 1760,married, July 15, 1784” (P, p. 3). Sir Walter updates the entry with newinformation such as his daughter Mary’s marriage, writing in the bookby hand to give his own words the same solidity as the printer’s. SirWalter agrees to Anne’s marriage to Captain Wentworth because of“his superiority of appearance . . . assisted by his well-sounding name”which balances Anne’s “superiority of rank” (P, p. 271).Elizabeth Elliot thinks like her father; when Anne warns her thatMrs. Clay might have designs on their father, Elizabeth’s reply combinessocial status and physical appearance: “Mrs. Clay . . . never forgetswho she is . . . I can assure you, that upon the subject of marriage . . .she reprobates all inequality of condition and rank more strongly thanmost people. . . . That tooth of her’s! and those freckles! Freckles donot disgust me so very much as they do him” (P, p. 37). Anne arguesfor the primacy of strategy and counters, “There is hardly any personaldefect . . . which an agreeable manner might not gradually reconcile one237

to,” but for Elizabeth, physical attributes trump strategy: “an agreeablemanner may set off handsome features, but can never alter plain ones”(P, p. 38). Similarly but to a lesser degree, Lady Russell has “prejudiceson the side of ancestry; she had a value for rank and consequence,which blinded her a little to the faults of those who possessed them” (P,p. 12). After Anne marries Captain Wentworth, Lady Russell realizesthat “she had been unfairly influenced by appearances . . . that becauseCaptain Wentworth’s manners had not suited her own ideas, she hadbeen too quick in suspecting them” (P, p. 271).When she first meets Fanny, Mary Crawford must ascertain herstatus and asks Edmund, “Pray, is she out, or is she not?—I am puzzled.She dined at the Parsonage, with the rest of you, which seemedlike being out; and yet she says so little, that I can hardly suppose sheis.” Edmund does not share Mary’s fixation, replying, “I believe I knowwhat you mean—but I will not undertake to answer the question. Mycousin is grown up. She has the age and sense of a woman, but the outsand not outs are beyond me” (MP, p. 56). Mary is also concerned withthe sound of Edmund’s name when combined with a title: “There issomething in the sound of Mr. Edmund Bertram so formal, so pitiful, soyounger-brother-like, that I detest it. . . . Lord Edmund or Sir Edmundsound delightfully” (MP, p. 246). In a letter to Fanny, Mary Crawfordbrags about Edmund’s looks (“my friends here are very much struckwith his gentleman-like appearance”) to Fanny’s chagrin: “The womanwho could speak of him, and speak only of his appearance!—What anunworthy attachment! . . . She who had known him intimately halfa year!” (MP, pp. 482, 484). Lady Bertram understands Henry Crawford’sproposal to Fanny in terms of beauty and status: “To know Fannyto be sought in marriage by a man of fortune, raised her, therefore, verymuch in her opinion. By convincing her that Fanny was very pretty . . .it made her feel a sort of credit in calling her niece. . . . And looking ather complacently, she added, ‘Humph—We certainly are a handsomefamily’ ” (MP, p. 383–384). Lady Bertram reduces the entire social processwhich led to Henry’s proposal to a physical characteristic, Fanny’sbeauty, which enhances her own status. Mr. Rushworth equates statuswith appearance, which is in turn reducible to a precise numerical238

height: when Tom Bertram tells his father that Henry Crawford is a“gentleman-like man,” Mr. Rushworth interjects, “I do not say he is notgentleman-like, considering; but you should tell your father he is notabove five feet eight, or he will be expecting a well-looking man” (MP,p. 217).When Mr. Bingley suggests that Mr. Darcy ask Elizabeth to dance,Mr. Darcy replies, “She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to temptme; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to youngladies who are slighted by other men” (PP, p. 12). Elizabeth hears thisremark and thus begins their mutual dislike. Mr. Darcy normally hasgood strategic skills but has just arrived in the neighborhood. In thiscompletely new social environment, Elizabeth’s appearance and herstatus as unwanted are all he has to go on, and this might explain why“his extreme insolence, at the first Meryton ball, does not quite matchhis later behavior” (Kennedy 1950, p. 53, quoted in Morris 1987, p. 159).Does Austen subscribe to the “male brain” theory of autism? It istrue that Austen is more willing to accept cluelessness in a grown manthan in a grown woman: for example, Mr. Bingley, “so easily guidedthat his worth was invaluable,” is subject to a milder degree of ridiculethan a woman who is equally weak strategically, such as Mary Musgrove(PP, p. 412). There is no female equivalent of Mr. Woodhouse, aperson whose cluelessness is annoying but sometimes endearing: LadyRussell’s lack of strategic ability is just a lack, with no upside or charm,and if Mrs. Dashwood is considered endearing, it is because of heroverstrategicness, not her cluelessness (although her overstrategicnessmight be considered a higher level of cluelessness). It is also true thatHenry Tilney, whose theoretical statements about strategic thinking aremost explicit, understands muslins: “my sister has often trusted me inthe choice of a gown. I bought one for her the other day, and it waspronounced to be a prodigious bargain by every lady who saw it. Igave but five shillings a yard for it, and a true Indian muslin.” If thereis any doubt that this skill is gendered, Mrs. Allen responds: “Mencommonly take so little notice of those things. . . . You must be a greatcomfort to your sister, sir” (NA, p. 20). Catherine laughs and almost239

calls him strange, and according to Woods (1999, p. 138), “subliminally,Jane Austen has conjured up the spectacle of Henry Tilney in drag.”Still, for Austen the gendering of cluelessness is anything but simple.Being strategically skilled does not necessarily make you lessmale. Mr. Knightley understands the needs of Jane Fairfax and MissBates and arranges for his carriage to take them home after a party.Mrs. Weston exclaims: “Such a very kind attention—and so thoughtfulan attention!—the sort of thing that so few men would think of” (PP,p. 241). Mr. Knightley’s thoughtfulness might be unusual for a man,but in this case, his ability to anticipate and provide for women’s needsif anything makes him more, not less, of a man. Perhaps the onlydifference is that Henry anticipates clothing needs and Mr. Knightleyanticipates transportation needs. Perhaps strategic thinking is not genderedin general, but rather gendered according to the arenas in whichit is employed. Admiral Croft might be in charge at sea, but “on land,the Admiral defers to Sophia’s [Mrs. Croft’s] greater expertise” (Mellor2000, p. 130–131). Similarly, Captain Wentworth captures Frenchfrigates and succeeds brilliantly as a naval officer, but in the arena ofcourtship, “[h]is hope of domestic happiness has been thwarted by hisexcessive pride” (Mellor 2000, p. 125). Luckily, in this arena, Anne’sstrategic skills pull them through.As to whether women or men are better at strategic thinking ingeneral, when Catherine and Eleanor Tilney misunderstand each other(Catherine says “something very shocking indeed, will soon come outin London,” but she means a novel, not an actual riot), Henry jokinglyconcedes that women have a natural advantage: “no one can thinkmore highly of the understanding of women than I do. In my opinion,nature has given them so much, that they never find it necessary touse more than half” (NA, pp. 113, 115). A woman might have greaterstrategic capacity, but if she rests on that advantage, a man might morethan compensate through greater effort.240

Unfamiliarity with others’ experiencesSex differences can cause cluelessness because it takes effort andfamiliarity to communicate across them, not because one sex is necessarilymore skilled than another. Had she more time, Catherine wouldhave bought a new gown for the cotillion ball to catch the eye of HenryTilney, but “[t]his would have been an error in judgment. . . . It wouldbe mortifying to the feelings of many ladies, could they be made tounderstand how little the heart of man is affected by what is costly ornew in their attire” (NA, p. 71). A woman learns this mortifying factonly by becoming familiar with them: “a brother rather than a greataunt, might have warned her, for man only can be aware of the insensibilityof man towards a new gown” (NA, p. 71). After all, Henry Tilneyknows about muslins because he has a sister. When Anne and CaptainHarville argue over which sex loves with greater constancy, CaptainHarville first appeals to analogies (“as our bodies are the strongest, soare our feelings; capable of bearing most rough usage, and riding outthe heaviest weather”) and to literature (“Songs and proverbs, all talkof woman’s fickleness”), but finally breaks through by communicatingdirectly, like a brother, how a man feels: “if I could but make you comprehendwhat a man suffers when he takes a last look at his wife andchildren, and watches the boat that he has sent them off in, as long as itis in sight, and then turns away and says, ‘God knows whether we evermeet again!’ And then, if I could convey to you the glow of his soulwhen he does see them again. . . . If I could explain to you all this, andall that a man can bear and do, and glories to do for the sake of thesetreasures of his existence!” (P, pp. 253, 254, 255). Feeling the warmthof Captain Harville and men in general, Anne concedes, “God forbidthat I should undervalue the warm and faithful feelings of any of myfellow-creatures. I should deserve utter contempt if I dared to supposethat true attachment and constancy were known only by woman” (P,p. 256). Anne is more than willing to take a man’s point of view, acknowledging,“You are always labouring and toiling, exposed to everyrisk and hardship. . . . It would be too hard indeed . . . if woman’sfeelings were to be added to all this” (P, p. 254). With enough effort241

and sincerity, women and men can understand each other, and Anne’swillingness to do this is rewarded by the love of the eavesdroppingCaptain Wentworth.Other differences, not just sex differences, increase cluelessness.When her family leaves Kellynch Hall, Anne goes to stay with hersister Mary at Uppercross Cottage, a different physical location. Annewell knows from previous visits that “a removal from one set of peopleto another, though at a distance of only three miles, will often include atotal change of conversation, opinion, and idea” and that no one therethinks about “the affairs which at Kellynch Hall were treated as of suchgeneral publicity and pervading interest” (P, p. 45). Given the lack ofsympathy at Uppercross for her family’s decampment to Bath, Annelearns “another lesson, in the art of knowing our own nothingnessbeyond our own circle. . . . She could only resolve to avoid such selfdelusionin future” (P, pp. 45–46). As Anne later observes, “What wildimaginations one forms, where dear self is concerned!” (P, p. 218).If they do not listen to each other, even people in the same houseneed not have any idea about how others see them. When the companyat Mansfield Park rehearses Lovers’ Vows, Fanny “knew that Mr. Yateswas in general thought to rant dreadfully, that Mr. Yates was disappointedin Henry Crawford, that Tom Bertram spoke so quick he wouldbe unintelligible, that Mrs. Grant spoiled everything by laughing, thatEdmund was behind-hand with his part, and that it was misery to haveany thing to do with Mr. Rushworth. . . . [S]he found every body requiringsomething they had not, and giving occasion of discontent to theothers. . . . [N]obody but the complainer would observe any directions”(MP, p. 193).Captain Wentworth tells his sister Mrs. Croft that he does not likewomen and children aboard his ship because of the difficulty of givingthem proper accommodations. Mrs. Croft replies, “We none of usexpect to be in smooth water all our days,” and Admiral Croft agreesthat “when he had got a wife, he will sing a different tune. When he ismarried . . . we shall see him do as you and I, and a great many others,have done. We shall have him very thankful to anybody that will bringhim his wife” (P, p. 75). The Crofts claim that as an unmarried man,242

Captain Wentworth simply does not understand married people andeven what he himself will be like when married. Captain Wentworthexpresses his frustration with communicating over this divide: “Whenonce married people begin to attack me with, ‘Oh! you will think verydifferently, when you are married.’ I can only say, ‘No, I shall not;’ andthen they say again, ‘Yes, you will,’ and there is an end of it” (P, p. 76).Finally, Mr. Woodhouse observes that Mr. John Knightley, brotherof Mr. Knightley, is too rough with his children, and Emma explains that“He appears rough to you . . . because you are so very gentle yourself.. . . The children are all fond of him” (E, p. 86). Mr. Woodhouse cannotunderstand how the children enjoy it when Mr. Knightley “tosses themup to the ceiling in a very frightful way!” (E, p. 86). Emma replies,“That is the case with us all, papa. One half of the world cannot understandthe pleasures of the other” (E, p. 87). The age difference betweenhimself and the children is too much for Mr. Woodhouse’s understandingto overcome. As Emma observes, the problem of understandingother people is universal, not just between young and old. At leastMr. Woodhouse has Emma as an interlocutor, who talks “slowly anddistinctly, and two or three times over, with explanations of every part”(E, p. 83), just as Captain Wentworth has Captain Harville. Sir Thomas,when trying to persuade Fanny to accept Henry Crawford’s proposal,“did not understand her: he felt that he did not; and therefore appliedto Edmund to tell him how she stood affected on the present occasion”(MP, p. 422).Excessive self-referenceEmma points out that Mr. Woodhouse’s cluelessness is due to histhinking of others’ preferences only as compared to his own; becauseof his own gentleness, he cannot understand the joys of rough play.Mr. Woodhouse is “never able to suppose that other people couldfeel differently from himself” and therefore believes for example thatEmma’s governess Miss Taylor would rather stay with them than starther new married life as Mrs. Weston (E, p. 6). At the wedding, “hecould never believe other people to be different from himself. What243

was unwholesome to him he regarded as unfit for any body; and he had,therefore, earnestly tried to dissuade them from having any weddingcakeat all” (E, p. 17). Mr. Woodhouse fails the false belief test. Similarly,“Mrs. Allen, not being at all in the habit of conveying any expressionherself by a look, was not aware of its being ever intended by any bodyelse” (NA, p. 57). We also have “Lady Bertram holding exercise tobe as unnecessary for every body as it was unpleasant to herself; andMrs. Norris, who was walking all day, thinking every body ought towalk as much” (MP, p. 41). Sir Walter has so many dressing mirrors inhis home that “there was no getting away from oneself” (P, p. 138).Cluelessness can result from using a single person, yourself, toestimate the entire range of human variety. For people as matureas Mr. Woodhouse and Mrs. Allen, this ignorance can be ascribed topersonality traits or incapacity. For younger people, it can result frominexperience. When Fanny refuses Henry Crawford’s proposal, “Fannyknew her own meaning, but was no judge of her own manner. Hermanner was incurably gentle, and she was not aware how much itconcealed the sternness of her purpose” (MP, pp. 377–378). Fanny doesnot know that what she thinks stern sounds wimpy to others, as shehas never had to refuse anyone before. As mentioned before, whenCatherine tells Henry Tilney that his brother Captain Tilney must havewanted to dance with the engaged Isabella because of his friendly goodnature, Henry replies that Catherine is thinking about what she herselfwould do, not what another quite different person would do. To Henrythis shows Catherine’s good character: “your attributing my brother’swish of dancing with Miss Thorpe to good-nature alone, convinced meof your being superior in good-nature yourself” (NA, p. 135).Excessive self-reference is not always charming. By referring excessivelyto yourself, you can efface the preferences of others. Forexample, when invited to the Coles’s party, Mr. Woodhouse subsumesEmma’s wishes into his own: “I am not fond of dinner-visiting . . . Inever was. No more is Emma. Late hours do not agree with us” (E,p. 225). Elinor scolds Edward Ferrars for visiting and giving her andher family the impression that he was seeking her affection, even whilehe was secretly engaged to Lucy Steele. But Edward thinks only of244

his own conviction, not about how his visit was perceived by others:“I was simple enough to think, that because my faith was plighted toanother, there could be no danger in my being with you. . . . the argumentswith which I reconciled myself to the expediency of it, were nobetter than these:—The danger is my own; I am doing no injury to anybodybut myself” (SS, p. 417). Edward, thinking that his actions wouldonly injure himself, gave Elinor real pain. Sir Thomas is surprised tofind that Fanny has never had a fire in her room, even in winter, butdefends Mrs. Norris’s decision: “Your aunt Norris has always beenan advocate, and very judiciously, for young people’s being broughtup without unnecessary indulgences. . . . She is also very hardy herself,which of course will influence her in her opinion of the wants ofothers” (MP, p. 361). According to Sir Thomas, Mrs. Norris either didnot believe that Fanny should have the indulgence of a fire or, becauseof excessive self-reference, did not consider the possibility that Fannymight want one. Fanny freezes regardless.High status people are not supposed to enter the minds of low statuspeopleActually, Sir Thomas’s two reasons are not always distinct: sometimesyou have difficulty understanding how another person thinksbecause you think she is wrong to think that way and that your ownway of thinking is better. When Mary Elliot learns that Captain Benwickhas proposed to Louisa Musgrove, she writes in a letter to Anne, “Arenot you astonished? I shall be surprised at least if you ever received ahint of it, for I never did” (P, p. 179). Because she considers herself betterat detecting than Anne, Mary cannot conceive that Anne could havedetected it first. Mrs. Elton obnoxiously compares everything in Highburyto her brother-in-law’s residence, Maple Grove (“That room wasthe very shape and size of the morning-room at Maple Grove”), andby sheer repetition forces it into the discourse of Highbury residents,including at first Miss Bates and eventually even Emma (E, p. 294). It ispossible that Mrs. Elton is simply incapable of thinking about anythingexcept in reference to Maple Grove, but more likely she is attempting245

to get Highbury residents to share her opinion of its superiority. WhenElizabeth cannot believe that Charlotte Lucas has accepted Mr. Collins’sproposal, Charlotte responds, “Why should you be surprised, my dearEliza?—Do you think it incredible that Mr. Collins should be able toprocure any woman’s good opinion, because he was not so happy asto succeed with you?” (SS, p. 140). Elizabeth does not restrain herselffrom thinking that Charlotte made a terrible decision: “Charlotte thewife of Mr. Collins, was a most humiliating picture!—And to the pangof a friend disgracing herself and sunk in her esteem, was added thedistressing conviction that it was impossible for that friend to be tolerablyhappy in the lot she had chosen” (SS, p. 141). After Harriet finallyagrees to marry Robert Martin, “Emma could now acknowledge, thatHarriet had always liked Robert Martin; and that his continuing to loveher had been irresistible.—Beyond this, it must ever be unintelligibleto Emma” (E, p. 525). By thinking Harriet’s love unintelligible, Emmamaintains that Harriet is not making the best choice. Compare thiswith Charles Musgrove’s generous spirit when telling Anne, “I hopeyou do not think I am so illiberal as to want every man to have thesame objects and pleasures as myself” (P, p. 237).Not thinking it necessary to understand another person’s thoughtprocesses can be a mark of superior status over that person. Elizabeth’sunwillingness to understand Charlotte’s decision to marry Mr. Collinsis more than just an expression that Charlotte is obviously mistaken;Elizabeth also thinks that Charlotte is “disgracing herself and sunkin her esteem.” Similarly, by deeming Harriet’s desire unintelligible,Emma thinks that Harriet no longer needs to be understood; Emmaresigns herself to Harriet’s social status always remaining low andgives up her pet project of elevating it. When the Dowager ViscountessDalrymple arrives in Bath, Anne is dismayed to see how anxious herfather and sister are to introduce themselves: “I confess it does vex me,that we should be so solicitous to have the relationship acknowledged,which we may be very sure is a matter of perfect indifference to them”(P, p. 163). Similarly, when Admiral Croft arrives in Bath, Sir Walter“think[s] and talk[s] a great deal more about the Admiral, than theAdmiral ever thought or talked about him” (P, p. 182). Earlier, when246

he has to leave Kellynch Hall to reduce expenses, Sir Walter “could nothave borne the degradation of being known to design letting his house.. . . Sir Walter spurned the idea of its being offered in any manner;forbad the slightest hint being dropped of his having such an intention;and it was only on the supposition of his being spontaneously solicitedby some most unexceptionable applicant, on his own terms, and asa great favor, that he would let it at all” (P, pp. 16–17). AdvertisingKellynch Hall would show to the world that Sir Walter is thinkingabout whether other people are interested, which is a degradation; ifa prospective tenant spontaneously solicits, however, then he mustthink about whether Sir Walter will accept, which is consistent with SirWalter’s superior status. What really infuriates Emma about Mr. Elton’sproposal is his presumption that she is thinking of him: “that he shouldtalk of encouragement, should consider her as aware of his views,accepting his attentions, meaning (in short), to marry him!—shouldsuppose himself her equal in connection or mind! . . . It was mostprovoking.” Mr. Elton is thereby violating rank: “he must know thatin fortune and consequence she was greatly his superior. He mustknow that the Woodhouses had been settled for several generationsat Hartfield . . . and that the Eltons were nobody” (E, p. 147). It isoutrageous for Mr. Elton to presume to know Emma’s mind, but Emmacan freely specify what Mr. Elton should know.Since superiors should not think of the minds of inferiors, they needagents to do their dirty work for them, just as Mr. Shepherd finds a tenantto spontaneously solicit Sir Walter. When Mrs. Rushworth invitesLady Bertram to join in the visit to Sotherton, “Lady Bertram constantlydeclined it; but her placid manner of refusal made Mrs. Rushworth stillthink she wished to come, till Mrs. Norris’s more numerous words andlouder tone convinced her of the truth” (MP, p. 89). Like Fanny, LadyBertram does not know how feeble she sounds when refusing an offer,but she never has to stoop to think about whether others understandher, because she has Mrs. Norris to be loud on her behalf. Sir Thomascannot help but notice Henry Crawford’s interest in Fanny, even thoughhe is above it all: “though infinitely above scheming or contriving for. . . the most advantageous matrimonial establishment . . . he could247

not avoid perceiving in a grand and careless way that Mr. Crawfordwas somewhat distinguishing his niece—nor perhaps refrain (thoughunconsciously) from giving a more willing assent to invitations on thataccount. . . . [A]ny one in the habit of such idle observations would havethought that Mr. Crawford was the admirer of Fanny Price” (MP, p. 277–278). Sir Thomas’s altitude is preserved because he acts carelessly andeven unconsciously; he is not putting any effort into noticing, becauseany idle person would notice.The idea that superiors do not think about what inferiors are thinkingabout even applies to sexes, animals, and inanimate objects: “itmust be very improper that a young lady should dream of a gentlemanbefore the gentleman is first known to have dreamt of her” (NA,p. 22). Similarly, among women, “It is a thing of course among us,that every man is refused—till he offers,” because a woman shouldnot think about a man’s decision-making process (P, p. 212). Instead ofunderstanding his horse, John Thorpe tells Catherine that “he will soonknow his master” (NA, p. 58). When Marianne leaves the Norland estate,she bids it goodbye: “No leaf will decay because we are removed,nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you nolonger!—No; you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasureor the regret you occasion, and insensible of any change in those whowalk under your shade!” (SS, p. 32).When Lady Catherine meets with Elizabeth, she immediately putsher on notice: “You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand thereason of my journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience,must tell you why I come” (SS, p. 391). By asserting that Elizabethmust know what she is thinking, Lady Catherine tries to establishElizabeth’s inferior status. Lady Catherine has heard a report thather nephew Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth might be married, and wantsElizabeth to contradict it. Elizabeth replies with strategic reasoning:“Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family . . . will be rathera confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report is in existence” (SS, p. 392).Lady Catherine argues in terms of status: she and Mr. Darcy’s motherhad planned for him to marry her daughter, his cousin Miss de Bourgh,and in this sense they have been long engaged (regardless of the actual248

preferences of Mr. Darcy or Miss de Bourgh). Lady Catherine is fixatedon literality: she wants Elizabeth to directly answer whether they areengaged and promise that she will never enter into an engagement withhim. Elizabeth finally answers that she is not engaged with Mr. Darcy,but refuses to promise to not become engaged with him, again arguingstrategically, “Supposing him to be attached to me, would my refusingto accept his hand, make him wish to bestow it on his cousin?” (SS,p. 395). Lady Catherine mentions the “patched-up business” of Lydia’smarriage, and resorts to caste language: “Are the shades of Pemberleyto be thus polluted?” (SS, p. 396).Lady Catherine tells Mr. Darcy of Elizabeth’s rude refusal, to impressupon him Elizabeth’s impudence and disregard of social rank,“dwelling emphatically on every expression . . . which, in her ladyship’sapprehension, peculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance” (SS,p. 407). Mr. Darcy thereby learns that Elizabeth has not completelywritten him off, which gives him the confidence to renew his proposal:“My aunt’s intelligence had given me hope” (SS, p. 423). Lady Catherinethinks that she told Mr. Darcy the literal fact of Elizabeth’s refusalto promise not to marry him, but the true meaning of Elizabeth’s refusalis understandable only knowing the full context of Elizabeth andMr. Darcy’s shared history, which Mr. Darcy understands: “I knewenough of your disposition to be certain, that, had you been absolutely,irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it toLady Catherine, frankly and openly.” Elizabeth knows that Mr. Darcyunderstands: “Yes, you know enough of my frankness to believe mecapable of that. After abusing you so abominably to your face, I couldhave no scruple in abusing you to all your relations” (SS, p. 407).If Lady Catherine had thought Elizabeth in the least bit strategic,she would not have told Mr. Darcy that Elizabeth refused to promisenot to marry him, especially given that she already knew that therewas sufficient sentiment on his side to make their marriage plausible.Clueless and invested in her own status, Lady Catherine blundersdecisively.Similarly, when General Tilney finds that Catherine is not anheiress, he responds to this status violation by ritually expelling her,249

throwing her out of Northanger with no notice and no escort home. Hecould have ended Catherine’s visit more quietly and gently, but insteadhe had a performative, demonstrative intent: “Enraged with almost everybody in the world but himself, he set out the next day for the Abbey,where his performances have been seen” (NA, p. 256). But of course thisis an equal blunder: “Henry’s indignation on hearing how Catherinehad been treated . . . had been open and bold. . . . He felt himself boundas much in honour as in affection to Miss Morland, and believing thatheart to be his own which he had been directed to gain, no unworthyretraction of a tacit consent, no reversing decree of unjustifiable anger,could shake his fidelity, or influence the resolutions it prompted” (NA,p. 257). General Tilney knew of Henry’s affection toward Catherine,having promoted it himself, and could have anticipated that such callousmistreatment would only increase his sympathy by adding to itfeelings of injustice. “The General, accustomed on every ordinary occasionto give the law in his family, prepared for no reluctance but offeeling, no opposing desire that should dare to clothe itself in words,”does not think of Henry as a person who makes his own decisions;it does not occur to him that Henry might actually do something andthus he is completely unprepared for Henry’s opposition (NA, p. 257).General Tilney thinks that Henry’s mental state is something which hecan control: he “ordered [him] to think of her no more” (NA, p. 253).For that matter, General Tilney’s original mistake of thinking Catherinean heiress is also due to his inability to understand the objectivesof his informant John Thorpe: “pretty well resolved upon marryingCatherine himself,” John Thorpe’s “vanity induced him to representthe family as yet more wealthy than his vanity and avarice had madehim believe them” (NA, p. 254). Eager to hear John Thorpe’s literalstatement that Catherine is the heir of the Allens, General Tilney doesnot consider his motives for saying so.Mrs. Ferrars, Edward’s mother, responds to his secret engagementwith Lucy Steele by slashing his status, replacing him as favored eldestson with his brother Robert only to have Lucy marry Robert instead.As Elinor points out to Edward, “your mother has brought on herselfa most appropriate punishment. The independence she settled on250

Robert, through resentment against you, has put it in his power tomake his own choice; and she has actually been bribing one son with athousand a-year, to do the very deed which she disinherited the otherfor intending to do” (SS, p. 414). This is another case of a privileged,status-obsessed person whose action backfires because he or she doesnot take into account the strategicness of another person, in this caseLucy. To be fair, no one, including Elinor and Marianne, anticipated thatLucy would capture Robert, and so Mrs. Ferrars is not as conclusivelyclueless as Lady Catherine and General Tilney.Henry and Mary Crawford do not make a sudden decisive blunderbut rather work their way up to it. Henry thinks he knows Fanny’smind, telling her, “I do and will deserve you; and when once convincedthat my attachment is what I declare it, I know you too well not toentertain the warmest hopes,” and even places words in Fanny’s mouth(“I fancied you might be going to tell me I ought to be more attentive”)but does not have a clue about how much Fanny hates him (MP, p. 398,394). After trying to convince Fanny, Henry says that he is reluctant toleave, “but there was no look of despair in parting to bely his words,”and his presumption makes Fanny “angry. Some resentment did ariseat a perseverance so selfish and ungenerous” (MP, p. 379). Later Henrysays he is interested in the welfare of his poorer tenants, which “wasaimed, and well aimed, at Fanny. It was pleasing to hear him speakso properly. . . . [S]he was on the point of giving him an approvinglook when it was all frightened off, by his adding a something toopointed of his hoping soon to have an assistant, a friend, a guide inevery plan of utility or charity” (MP, p. 469–470). Certain that he willsucceed, Henry does not know when to shut up. Finally, Henry doesnot realize the extent of Maria’s feelings when he visits her after hermarriage, and makes the final mistake of running off with her. MaryCrawford, unable to understand Edmund’s commitment to the clergyand unsatisfied with its low status, repeatedly angles for Edmund tochange his profession, but all this does is give Edmund and Fannygreater opportunity to bond over her poor upbringing.Of course, Emma regards Harriet Smith as transparent and moldable,and only when Harriet suggests that Mr. Knightley might be251

interested in her does Emma realize that Harriet is capable of independentthought. Emma realizes how badly her plan backfires: “Oh!had she never brought Harriet forward! . . . Had she not, with a follywhich no tongue could express, prevented her marrying the unexceptionableyoung man who would have made her happy and respectablein the line of life to which she ought to belong—all would have beensafe” (E, p. 450). Emma is shocked at Harriet’s not knowing her ownplace (“How Harriet could ever have had the presumption to raise herthoughts to Mr. Knightley!—How she could dare to fancy herself thechosen of such a man till actually assured of it!”), even though she herselfhad encouraged Harriet to marry into higher status (E, p. 450–451).Presumption sometimes worksAusten’s fifth explanation for cluelessness is simply that if youcan change another person’s preferences, you don’t have to care aboutthem. Pride and Prejudice famously begins with a strong presumption:“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possessionof a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. However little known thefeelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood,this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surroundingfamilies, that he is considered the rightful property of some one orother of their daughters” (PP, p. 3). Does this mean that neighborhoodfamilies are clueless? Are they wrong to think that the feelings andviews of their single men are irrelevant? Sometimes a young womancan be delusional, as when Elizabeth thinks that she was “the first toexcite and to deserve [Wickham’s] attention” (PP, p. 172). But sometimesa young woman presumes correctly, as when Elizabeth’s “fancytold her she still possessed” the “power . . . of bringing on the renewalof [Mr. Darcy’s] addresses” (PP, p. 293). When Mrs. Gardiner warnsElizabeth not to get involved with Wickham because he has no fortune,Elizabeth agrees, “I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his firstobject. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing” (PP,p. 164). Wickham’s own beliefs and preferences are irrelevant, becausethey presumably depend entirely on Elizabeth’s. Indeed, recall that252

Catherine creates Henry Tilney’s attachment outright: “a persuasion ofher partiality for him had been the only cause of giving her a seriousthought” (NA, p. 252). Sometimes presumption works.253

15Real-world cluelessnessIn this chapter, I find real-world examples of cluelessness and tryto explain them using the insights of folk game theory and a few explanationsof my own. One explanation, inspired by the “malitis”tale and Austen’s focus on social status, is that to enter into another’smind, one must imagine physically entering his body, and a higherstatus person finds entering a lower status person’s body repulsive.A second explanation is that clueless people rely and invest more insocial status because it serves as a cognitive shortcut in complicatedsituations; people not naturally talented in strategic thinking gravitatetoward status-mediated interactions, such as those within hierarchalorganizations, because they need the explicit structure which statusprovides. A third explanation is that cluelessness can improve one’sbargaining position; by being clueless, you can commit yourself to anaction and not respond to the actions of others because you cannotthink that far ahead. Finally, even though strategic thinking is not thesame as empathy, perhaps entering into the mind of another to considerwhat they will do inevitably leads toward empathy, which mightthreaten the basis of unequal social systems like slavery.Difficulty embodying low-status othersWhen Robert McNamara was appointed to US Secretary of Defense,he brought with him quantitative techniques developed at theRAND Corporation, including systems analysis and cost-benefit analysis(Amadae 2003). Game theory was also a big part of RAND at thetime, in the late 1940s and early 1950s, although Leonard (2010, p. 297,254

note 6) notes that game theory was developed by RAND mathematicianswhile cost-benefit analysis was developed by a separate group,RAND economists.In any case, not much game theory seems to have rubbed off onMcNamara, as one of his stated life lessons is a game theory truism:when the US thinks about its enemies, “we must try to put ourselvesinside their skins and look at us through their eyes, just to understandthe thoughts that lie behind their desires and their actions. . . . In theCuban Missile Crisis, at the end, I think we did put ourselves in the skinof the Soviets. In the case of Vietnam, we didn’t know them well enoughto empathize, and there was total misunderstanding as a result” (TheFog of War: Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara 2003). Forexample, when the US ship Maddox was attacked by the Vietnamese onAugust 2, 1964, the US assumed that the act must have been orderedby the central command with the intent to escalate, but the attackwas in fact ordered by a field commander under standing orders. AsMcNamara tells Nguyen Dinh Uoc in 1997, “There was a far greaterde-centralization of authority and command with respect to the NorthVietnamese military than we understood at the time. . . . [W]e mayhave drawn unwarranted conclusions, based on our misunderstandingof your command and control arrangements” (Blight and Lang 2005,p. 108; Brams (2011) argues that Jimmy Carter similarly misperceivedAyatollah Khomeini’s preferences in the Iran hostage crisis). In hislater years McNamara participated in several conferences with formerCuban, Soviet, and Vietnamese leaders to reach mutual understanding,at least in retrospect, and his efforts are chronicled by Blight and Lang(2005).Why could the US leadership think strategically about the Soviets(thus preventing a catastrophic nuclear exchange) but not theVietnamese? A lack of social contact and background knowledge isone possible explanation: US leadership included Llewellyn “Tommy”Thompson, who actually lived with Khruschev for a while and knewhim socially, while US leaders did not have similar social contact withVietnamese leadership. The US misinterpreted the attack on the Maddoxas an escalation because of unfamiliarity with North Vietnamese255

military protocol. Austen would say that without a brother as informant,a woman does not know how little men care about new gowns.But McNamara’s relative inability to put himself in the place ofVietnamese leaders persists decades later, after plenty of social contact.In a 1989 conference on the Cuban Missile Crisis, McNamara declares:“I want to state quite frankly that with hindsight, if I had been a Cubanleader, I think I might have expected a U.S. invasion” because of theBay of Pigs invasion and other US-sponsored covert activity, but “wehad absolutely no intention of invading Cuba . . . therefore the Sovietaction to install missiles . . . was, I think, based on a misconception—aclearly understandable one, and one that we, in part, were responsiblefor.” Jorge Risquet, a member of Cuba’s Politburo at the time, replies,“I am amazed at Mr. McNamara’s frankness in acknowledging that ifhe had found himself in the Cubans’ shoes, the Cubans had every rightto think that there could be a direct invasion by the Americans” (Blightand Lang 2005, p. 41–42).McNamara’s overtures toward Vietnamese military leaders, however,are not met with similar regard. In 1995, McNamara met withVo Nguyen Giap, the senior military strategist during the war. McNamarasays, “General, I want us to examine our mindsets, and to look atspecific instances where we—Hanoi and Washington—may each havebeen mistaken, have misunderstood each other,” and Giap responds,“I don’t believe we misunderstood you. You were the enemy; youwished to defeat us—to destroy us. So we were forced to fight you”(Blight and Lang 2005, p. 105). In 1997, McNamara asks, “My belief isthat there could have been negotiations between the end of ’65 and ’68which would have led to a settlement that was roughly the same as theone that eventually occurred, but without that terrible loss of life. Whydidn’t it occur? Were you not influenced by the loss of lives? Whydidn’t it move you toward negotiations?” Tran Quang Co replies, “ifMr. McNamara thinks that the North Vietnamese leadership was notconcerned about the suffering of the Vietnamese people, with deathsand privation, then he has a huge misconception of Vietnam” (Blightand Lang 2005, p. 52–53). McNamara’s inability to put himself in theminds of Vietnamese leaders persists in his social ineptitude. It should256

e obvious that the question he poses to Tran Quang Co can be understoodas an accusation that the Vietnamese leadership did not careabout its own people. McNamara’s question is a bit like asking, “Whydidn’t you give me your wallet earlier? I wouldn’t have had to beatyou up.” McNamara’s statement to Jorge Risquet was well-receivedbecause he admits his own mistake. McNamara seems to think that ifVietnamese leaders do not admit their own mistakes, he should be ableto get them to do so.Similarly, Blight and Lang (2005, p. 104) describe Vo Nguyen Giapas “[s]upremely confident, dismissive of any suggestion that any ofHanoi’s decisions may have been based on false assumptions aboutthe Americans . . . the ‘anti-McNamara.’ . . . McNamara is unable toconvince Giap to keep an open mind.” Blight and Lang think thatthe problem is Giap’s, and more generally Vietnam’s. They arguethat many Vietnamese are critical of the war but cannot voice theircriticisms because of suppression; for example, Bao Ninh was placedin house arrest for writing a novel in 1993 which “rejects Giap’s smugtriumphalism.” Blight and Lang deem Giap closed-minded and smugfor not adopting McNamara’s more self-critical stance. But this is anodd conclusion when the entire point of your argument is that youshould never assume that you know another person’s mind and thatif you misunderstand someone, it’s your problem, not his. Blight andLang argue that one should never presume to know another’s mind,but when facing someone who doesn’t play along, have no problempresuming that something is wrong with him.Blight and Lang understand Giap’s uncooperative response to Mc-Namara’s question not by placing themselves in Giap’s shoes, but bysaying that he is a certain kind of person, smug, dismissive, and closedminded;calling him the “anti-McNamara” is also an example of excessiveself-reference. For Blight and Lang, as well as McNamara, statusdistinctions persist. Lyndon Johnson had offered to stop bombing Vietnamif the Hanoi government stopped supporting insurgents againstthe US-backed regime in Saigon, but Ho Chi Minh rejected this offer,insisting that the US unilaterally cease bombing before negotiationstake place. Blight and Lang (2005, p. 45) interpret this refusal in terms257

of relative status: “one of the poorest, most backward countries in theworld demands the surrender of the world’s greatest superpower. Nowonder Johnson was mystified.” Instead of trying to understand hisadversary’s point of view, a clueless superior wonders why the inferiorisn’t doing what he is supposed to do, just as Lady Catherine does notunderstand why simply declaring her superior status to Elizabeth isnot enough to make her promise to not marry Mr. Darcy, just as Foxcannot understand how Flossie could not know he is a fox, and justas the US is puzzled that its “shock and awe” demonstration of airsuperiority does not make Iraqi forces simply give up like they aresupposed to. McNamara states that to understand someone you haveto put yourself in their “skin.” In addition to rich versus poor, or advancedversus backward, perhaps another status difference is a racialor “caste” difference: Soviet skin is similar enough for the US to putitself in while Vietnamese skin is not.Thus one explanation for cluelessness is that entering another person’smind involves thinking of yourself physically embodying thatperson (just as a young automobile designer at Nissan puts on an “agingsuit” to better understand the perspectives of older people) anddoing so is distateful, repulsive, even unthinkable. Adam Smith (1759[2009], p. 13–14) argues that when we sympathize with another humanbeing, “[b]y the imagination we place ourselves in his situation,we conceive ourselves enduring all the same torments, we enter as itwere into his body.” Reading Persuasion in 1818, Maria Edgeworthwrites, “don’t you see Captain Wentworth, or rather don’t you in herplace feel him taking the boistrous child off her back” (Southam 1968,p. 17). The slaveowner in the “malitis” tale, who regards diseasedmeat as proper for slaves, does not consider that slaves might be trickinghim; he cannot put himself in the shoes of a slave, cannot lookthrough her eyes, cannot put himself in her skin without discomfortor even revulsion. Under this explanation, Lady Catherine is cluelessabout Elizabeth not just because entering into her mind would bean admission of status similarity, but because physically entering intoElizabeth’s lower-caste body is distasteful. When Portuguese explorerswent to Africa in the fifteenth century, instead of learning the various258

African languages themselves and thereby entering into the minds ofAfricans, they enslaved Africans and brought them back to Portugal tolearn Portuguese so they could be used as interpreters in subsequentjourneys (Hein 1993).More recently, Karl Rove, a close advisor to George Bush, said that“Conservatives saw the savagery of 9/11 and the attacks and preparedfor war; liberals saw the savagery of the 9/11 attacks and wantedto prepare indictments and offer therapy and understanding for ourattackers. . . . Conservatives saw what happened to us on 9/11 andsaid, ‘We will defeat our enemies.’ . . . Liberals saw what happened tous and said, ‘We must understand our enemies’ ” (Hernandez 2005).Of course someone with strategic thinking skills (for example as SunTzu writes in Art of War) would say that to defeat an enemy, one shouldfirst understand him. The term “savagery” is a way of saying that the9/11 attackers are of lower status than civilized human beings, and thatthe US debases itself by entering into their minds; the wish of liberalsdo so, to cross the status boundary and in Lady Catherine’s words“pollute” themselves, proves their own inferior status as comparedwith conservatives. Trying to understand the 9/11 attackers should beprohibited, even if understanding them helps defeat them.For another example, African American labor resistance can be understoodas including not just strikes but more informal actions, suchas pilferage, leaving work early, and damaging workplace equipment:“There is evidence of household workers scorching or spitting in food,damaging kitchen utensils, and breaking household appliances, butemployers and white contemporaries generally dismissed these actsas proof of black moral and intellectual inferiority. . . . the ‘servantproblem’ ” (Kelley 1993, p. 91, 93). White employers understood the“servant problem” not as a strategy of resistance or a response to insufficientincentives but as characteristic of a person’s race. White employersdid not think how they would themselves act in the same situationbecause being in the same situation was inconceivable. W. E. B. DuBoisobserves: “All observers spoke of the fact that the slaves were slow andchurlish; that they wasted material and malingered at their work. Ofcourse they did. This was not racial but economic. It was the answer259

of any group of laborers forced down to the last ditch. They might bemade to work continuously but no power could make them work well”(DuBois 1935 [1998], p. 40, quoted in Kelley 1993).In the popular imagination, people in dire circumstances (such as anatural disaster) are prone to “mob mentality” or “mass panic.” However,there is little evidence for this behavior. For example, 165 peopleout of 1200 people died in a fire at the Beverly Hills Supper Club inSouthgate, Kentucky in 1977. But people were generally calm, althoughthere was some screaming and pushing. As Clarke (2002, p. 23) writes:“Notice what they did not do. They did not pick up those chairs anduse them to strike people queued up in front of them. They did notgrab their hair and shove them aside in a desperate rush to get out.They did not overpower those more helpless than themselves. Theydid not act blindly in their own self-interest. In Kentucky, few peopleacted out a panic. Indeed, had people developed a sense of urgencysooner, more would have gotten out and fewer would have died.” Anexamination of the Who concert in Cincinnati on December 3, 1979, inwhich eleven people were trampled by others and died, yields a similarresult: very few people in the crowd reported “antisocial” activity,and most reported that people were trying desperately to protect thosewho had fallen, as people farther away in the crowd pushed forward,unaware that anyone was in danger (Johnson 1987). People even inburning aircraft tend to behave calmly and cooperatively, as in the June1, 1999 crash of American Airlines 1420, in which 11 out of the 145passengers died. Complete strangers helped each other and lined upin single file to exit.Why does the idea of “mass panic” persist? Clarke (2002, p. 26)argues that it “is often used as a justification by high-level decisionmakers to deny knowledge and access to the public, on the presumptionthat people cannot handle bad news.” In other words, high-leveldecision makers presume how the general public will react; they cannotput themselves in the minds of the general public and do not realize forexample how vague official pronouncements invite skepticism and distrust.When a group of people is described as a mob, animal terms like260

“herd” or “stampede” are often used, granting them less than humanstatus.In the scholarly imagination, “mob mentality” was until the 1970sthe main way of thinking about social protest: “crowds were assumedto create, through suggestion and contagion, a kind of psychologically‘primitive’ group mind and group feelings”; protests were explained interms of Oedipal rebellion, self-hatred, or psychological alienation, forexample (Goodwin, Jasper, and Polletta 2001, p. 2–3). Calhoun (2001,p. 48) explains that protest and collective action were understood asaberrational, outside the sphere of normal politics, “something irrationalothers engaged in.” What changed in the 1970s was simply thatscholars began to think that social protest was OK, even normal, partlybecause they themselves had participated. “The argument that weshould think in terms of collective action (not just behavior) markedthat shift of perspective, opening up an internal analysis of somethingthat ‘people like us’ might do. It was seen as rational in the sense ofreasonable, self-aware product of choice” (Calhoun 2001, p. 48).Investing in status shortcutsIn the graphic novel With the Light (Tobe 2008, p. 363), SachikoAzuma describes how her son Hikaru, an autistic child, could not playtag with other children. Hikaru had difficulty understanding how therole of “it” changes: when the “it” person tags someone, that personbecomes the new “it.” His teacher Mr. Aoki came up with the ideathat the person who is “it” should wear a mask, and when that persontags someone, the new “it” puts on the mask. With this small change,Hikaru can join in.As is true for all social roles, the person who is “it” is defined bya social process. A “police officer” is a person who has gone throughspecific training, has passed certain specific tests, and is employedby a certain organization. This is a social process, and no person isinherently a police officer, just as no person is inherently “it.” In avery small village, I might know the history and experiences of everysingle individual, and know that a person is a police officer in the same261

way that I know who “it” is when playing tag. But in larger societies,almost everyone would have the same difficulty as Hikaru. Thus apolice officer wears a uniform, and even though we all know that aperson becomes a police officer through a lengthy social process, in agiven situation it is convenient to think that a person is a police officerbecause she wears a uniform. The uniform makes the police officer’sidentity literal.As another example, if some people in a society are consideredworthy of extra respect and deference, it would be confusing if onlysome people know who these people are. Giving these people a welldefinedstatus, such as “Lady” Catherine, reduces this confusion likea uniform. Social status can thus be understood as a literalization of asocial process.Therefore, people like Hikaru or Mr. Collins who are not good atstrategic thinking rely on social status more and find it more meaningful.Thus we might expect that people who are weak at strategicthinking will invest more in their own social status because they careabout it more. In other words, it is possible that people of high statusare not thereby clueless, but rather that clueless people like Will Parkerand Sir Walter invest more in status.African American women in civil rights organizations such as theSCLC and SNCC were excluded from formal leadership positions (officessuch as president or vice-president) because of prevailing sexroles at the time. The only titled positions available to women wereclerical. Thus women who desired more autonomy avoided formalpositions and instead became what Robnett (1996) calls “bridge leaders,”operating without formal titles and “bridging” the gap betweenformal leadership and rank-and-file participants. For example, whenthe Freedom Riders were almost beaten to death in Alabama in May1961, Diane Nash called SCLC leader Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth tosay that “[t]he students have decided that we can’t let violence overcome.We are going to come into Birmingham to continue the FreedomRide.” When Shuttlesworth responded, “Young lady, do you knowthat the Freedom Riders were almost killed here?”, Nash replied, “Yes.That’s exactly why the rides must not be stopped. If they stop us262

with violence, the movement is dead. We’re coming. We just want toknow if you can meet us” (Branch 1988, p. 430, quoted by Robnett 1996,p. 1685–1686). This example illustrates both Nash’s strategic acumenand also how as a bridge leader she represented the wishes of the studentparticipants to the formal leadership. Nash also “cement[ed] thepolicy of staying in jail rather than accepting bail,” a crucially effectivetactic (Robnett 1996, p. 1686). Bridge leaders in the civil rights movementoperated autonomously, creating their own opportunities, caringmore about effectiveness than recognition. Some men were also bridgeleaders. “While women were excluded from formal leadership on thebasis of their sex, men, too seem to have been excluded on the basisof their education”; for example, the SCLC, a religious organization,restricted its leadership to pastors (Robnett 1996, p. 1688).Robnett argues that women became bridge leaders because theywere excluded from formal leadership. But in the absence of exclusion,one might still expect that people who are good at tactics, recognizingstrategic opportunities, and interacting with a wide range of peoplein a variety of unstructured settings might prefer the freedom to operateas untitled bridge leader over the social status of being a formalleader. Stereotypically “male” organizations like the military mightbe more hierarchical and status-oriented, with each person given anexplicit rank, not because men love hierarchy but because their relativecluelessness requires that every social interaction have explicitlydefined roles and rules. Mr. Collins might easily call upon his strategicreasoning in well-defined situations like backgammon, in which rules,objectives, and players are explicit, but have more difficulty deployingit in the more open-ended situations typical of social life, and thereforeavail himself of the additional definition which social status provides.Improving your bargaining positionDuring the US military occupation of Iraq, many misunderstandingsoccurred at military checkpoints, resulting in civilian deaths.Ciezadlo (2005) describes the experience:263

As an American journalist here, I have been through manycheckpoints and have come close to being shot at several timesmyself. I look vaguely Middle Eastern, which perhaps makesmy checkpoint experience a little closer to that of the typicalIraqi. Here’s what it’s like.You’re driving along and you see a couple of soldiersstanding by the side of the road—but that’s a pretty ubiquitoussight in Baghdad, so you don’t think anything of it. Next thingyou know, soldiers are screaming at you, pointing their riflesand swiveling tank guns in your direction, and you didn’teven know it was a checkpoint.In situations like this, I’ve often had Iraqi drivers whostep on the gas. It’s a natural reaction: Angry soldiers arescreaming at you in a language you don’t understand, andyou think they’re saying “get out of here,” and you’re terrifiedto boot, so you try to drive your way out.If it’s confusing for me—and I’m an American–what is itlike for Iraqis who don’t speak English?Another problem is that the US troops tend to have twostagecheckpoints. First there’s a knot of Iraqi security forcesstanding by a sign that says, in Arabic and English, “Stop oryou will be shot.” Most of the time, the Iraqis will casuallywave you through.Your driver, who slowed down for the checkpoint, willaccelerate to resume his normal speed. What he doesn’t realizeis that there’s another American checkpoint several hundredyards past the Iraqi checkpoint, and he’s speeding toward it.Sometimes, he may even think that being waved through thefirst checkpoint means he’s exempt from the second one. . . .A couple of times soldiers have told me at checkpointsthat they had just shot somebody. They’re not supposed to talkabout it, but they do. I think that the soldiers really needed totalk about it. They were traumatized by the experience.264

This is not what they wanted—really not what theywanted—and the whole checkpoint experience is confusingand terrifying for them as well as for the Iraqis. . . .The essential problem with checkpoints is that the Americansdon’t know if the Iraqis are “friendlies” or not, and theIraqis don’t know what the Americans want them to do.I always wished that the American commanders who setup these checkpoints could drive through themselves, in acivilian car, so they could see what the experience was likefor civilians. But it wouldn’t be the same. They already knowwhat an American checkpoint is, and how to act at one—whichmany Iraqis don’t.Given that Iraqi civilians are killed and US soldiers are traumatized,one might expect that US commanders would try hard to communicateto Iraqis approaching a checkpoint what they are being asked to do.As Wright (2004) explains, “The question is: Do the Iraqis understandwhat’s going on? . . . [W]arning shots are simply a series of loudbangs and flashes. It’s not like this is the international code for ‘Stopyour vehicle and turn around.’ ” Instead, the US military developed alaser which temporarily blinds or “dazzles” drivers, to incapacitate, notcommunicate (“Lasers Used On Iraqi Drivers Who Won’t Stop,” 2006).The possible misunderstandings are obvious to low-ranking soliders atthe checkpoints, but commanders do not try to resolve them.Ciezadlo argues that the problem is that commanders do not understanda checkpoint from the point of view of an Iraqi civilian, andoffers an explanation for this cluelessness: since commanders alreadyknow what a US checkpoint is, they cannot take the point of view ofsomeone who doesn’t. But US soldiers operating the checkpoint alsoalready know what a US checkpoint is, and they realize the problem.Perhaps the cluelessness of US commanders is due to revulsion or statuspreservation: a US soldier perhaps can place himself in the mindof an approaching driver, but a US commander might have difficultycrossing the status boundary and thinking of himself as an Iraqi civiliandriver or even a low-ranking US soldier.265

Another explanation, however, is that a US commander can take anIraqi driver’s point of view but does not want to because of perceivedrisks or costs. Putting up signs would help, but to make sure thatIraqi civilians truly understand one would have to talk with them, andthis requires people with Arabic language skills and would potentiallyplace US soldiers at risk while talking in close proximity. Once inconversation, a driver might try to bargain, gain familiarity, or pleadbased on special circumstances, and it would be difficult, especiallyfor someone without language ability, to figure out which requests arevalid. Once you open up the situation to conversation, then you openit up to bargaining. As an occupying power, the US might think thatits own interests are best served by keeping an unswerving policy,regardless of the cost in lives; listening to Iraqi civilians is an admissionthat they have legitimate concerns, and the US might fear that if startsaccommodating Iraqi civilians, the inevitably revised policy wouldplace its soldiers at greater risk.In other words, another explanation for cluelessness is that placingyourself in the mind of another puts you in a worse bargaining position.Cluelessness can serve as a “commitment device,” a means of committingyourself to not respond to another, and this can be an advantage inbargaining. For example, in the game of “chicken,” two people drivetheir cars toward each other, and each person can either swerve off theroad or go straight. If both go straight, then a terrible accident results;if both swerve, then both emerge unscathed but neither “wins.” If oneperson goes straight and the other swerves, then the one who swervesloses and the one who goes straight wins. The chicken game can beapplied to many situations, for example arms races in which each sidewould like to build a weapons system, but disaster results if both sidesbuild it. When playing chicken, say you put a highly visible lock onyour steering wheel, making swerving impossible. Seeing the lock,your opponent swerves because she knows you cannot. Thus you gainby deliberately eliminating your options and committing yourself, asillustrated in the movie Footloose (1984), in which Ren McCormack cannotstop his tractor or jump off when his shoelace gets caught in thepedal.266

Being visibly clueless is a way to commit yourself. I go straightand presume you will swerve; for me to consider swerving, I have tothink about you making a decision to go straight instead. But I makeclear to you that I don’t think about you making a decision. You willswerve, just like you are supposed to, and my presumption carries theday.For a related example, say that I approach an intersection in my car(in a country in which people drive on the right, such as France) andam waiting for the oncoming traffic to stop so I can turn left. The trafficlight turns from green to yellow, and you approach in the oncomingtraffic. If I make my left turn, you will have to stop in order to avoidan accident. If I let you enter the intersection, then I cannot make myleft turn and will have to wait another two minutes for the light to turngreen again. Thus I should make the turn avoiding eye contact withyou, making it clear that I am presuming that you will stop. If I look atyou, then you know that I might condition my action on your behavior.Under this explanation, a person is clueless because it is a bargainingdisadvantage to enter the mind of another, not because of anydifficulty violating a status boundary. For example, when I make aleft turn avoiding eye contact with you, I do not have any revulsionabout entering into your mind; rather, I do not want to enter your mindbecause once I start thinking about what you will do, I might hesitatein making my turn.There is a connection between this bargaining advantage explanationand status. If I can take an action which affects you, you haveto think about what I will do and enter into my mind, but if nothingyou do affects me, then I don’t have to think about you at all. I amclueless about you because I do not have to spend any time thinkingabout you; it does not even occur to me that you can do anything tohurt or help me, and my cluelessness is a statement that my status is inthis sense superior. For example, when Birmingham police used waterhoses and dogs on children demonstrating in the civil rights movementin May 1963, and pictures appeared in newspapers throughoutthe world, the US federal government was concerned about the imageof the US abroad. However, George Wallace, governor of Alabama,267

made the following statement: “It seems to me that other parts of theworld ought to be concerned about what we are thinking of them insteadwhat they think of us. . . After all, we’re feeding most of them. .. . [U]ntil they reject [the money] . . . that southerners pay for foreignaid to these countries, I will never be concerned about their attitude.. . . [T]he average man in Africa or Asia doesn’t even know where heis, much less where Alabama is” (quoted in Williams 1987, p. 191–193).Here Wallace says that southerners do not need to care about the mindsof people in other parts of the world; we can be clueless about them,but since we give them money, they must be careful about what wethink about them. For Wallace, this status difference is naturally linkedto race or nationality.A senior advisor to George Bush told Suskind (2004) that reporterslike him are “in what we call the reality-based community,” people who"believe that solutions emerge from your judicious study of discerniblereality.” But “[t]hat’s not the way the world really works anymore. . .. We’re an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality.And while you’re studying that reality—judiciously, as you will—we’llact again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, andthat’s how things will sort out. We’re history’s actors . . . and you, allof you, will be left to just study what we do.” Suskind interprets thisstatement as evidence for the administration’s insistence on faith anduncritical loyalty. But if the Bush administration does not care aboutwhat others think, creating its own reality, it has an advantage in somebargaining situations.George Bush told Draper (2007) that “The job of the president . .. is to think strategically so that you can accomplish big objectives. . .. Iran’s a destabilizing force. And instability in that part of the worldhas deeply adverse consequences, like energy falling in the hands ofextremist people that would use it to blackmail the West. . . . That’swhat I mean by strategic thought. I don’t know how you learn that. . .. [H]ow do you decide, how do you learn to decide things? When youmake up your mind, and you stick by it. . . . You either know how todo it or you don’t.” Drezner (2007) observes that “what [Bush] has notdone is contemplate . . . [h]ow the Iranian leadership might respond to268

U.S. policies. . . . Part of strategic thought is contemplating how othersmight react to what you do. There’s none of that in George W. Bush’sstrategic thought.” Indeed, for Bush strategic thought means makingup your mind and sticking to it, and being able to do it is like havinga certain status: you have it or you don’t, it’s not something you canlearn. But Bush’s version of strategic thought, which does not considerhow others react, can be advantageous.Finally, I organized the string section for my son’s fifth grade graduationperformance and had to assign students to either first violin orsecond violin. Even though the parts were equally difficult, peopleassociate first violin with higher status. I assigned Georgia to the secondviolin part, but she told me that she would rather play first violin,because she was better than Matthew, who was playing first violin.However, she then told me that if she switched with Matthew, thenMatthew would get upset, so she would stick with playing second violin.I am confident that this line of strategic reasoning did not occur toMatthew. A typical fifth-grade boy might not even understand this lineof reasoning if it were explained to him. If the situation were reversedand Matthew was told that if he switched with Georgia, Georgia wouldget upset, Matthew would surely respond, “But I want to play first violin.”Claiming first violin or second violin is an example of chicken:both would rather play first violin but a conflict results if both claimthe first violin part. A person like Matthew, who does not think aboutGeorgia at all, has an advantage over Georgia, who thinks about whatMatthew might do. Heckerling (2009) adapted Emma into the movieClueless (1995), with the bubbly and scheming Beverly Hills high schoolstudent Cher playing the role of Emma. Wald (2000, p. 229–230) writes:“Being clueless means that Cher is spared the burden of critical selfconsciousnessthat falls to subjects who cannot . . . take for granteda certain freedom of self-expression. . . . It also invests her with anaura of gendered innocence that she can draw upon in negotiations.”Matthew’s lack of self-consciousness, which helps in his negotiations,is indeed gendered, part of being a young boy.269

Empathy preventionAnother explanation for cluelessness is empathy prevention: if youstart thinking about another person’s goals and thoughts, you mightstart to care about them. McNamara’s promotion of empathy in internationalrelations draws from White (1984, p. 160, quoted in Blightand Lang 2005, p. 28), who writes, “‘Empathy is the great correctivefor all forms of war-promoting misperception. . . . It [means] simplyunderstanding the thoughts and feelings of others. It is distinguishedfrom sympathy. . . . Empathy with opponents is therefore psychologicallypossible even when a conflict is so intense that sympathy is out ofthe question.” Understanding someone strategically is not the same asempathy, but perhaps they are close enough that one might lead to theother.For example, you might have an opponent that you respect but ofcourse want to defeat, and you might have no trouble putting yourselfin his shoes, but you still might rather not know everything goingthrough his mind. When Indianapolis Colts quarterback Peyton Manningthrew an interception to New Orleans Saints defensive back TracyPorter late in the 2010 Super Bowl, guaranteeing a Saints win, manypeople speculated that Manning subconsciously wanted to let the Saintswin the game (for example Moore 2010). Manning’s father played tenseasons with the Saints, and Manning himself was born and raised inNew Orleans, which was still recovering from Katrina and desperatefor good news. If you were Manning, your intimate knowledge of theSaints could be very useful in defeating them. But if your knowledgeincludes knowing just how badly the Saints and New Orleans need thewin, you would probably rather not know anything. To take anotherexample, say that you are playing a tennis match and your motherdied six months ago. Your opponent’s mother died last week and isdedicating this match to her. You would probably rather not knowthis because your sympathies would make you less competitive, eventhough this knowledge might be a tactical advantage. Putting yourselfin your opponent’s shoes is not repulsive; rather, you resist it preciselybecause you anticipate having too much sympathy for your own good.270

Under this explanation, employers and slaveowners do not thinkstrategically about servants and slaves because doing so would inevitablylead to caring about them, which would weaken the socialdivisions upon which the economic system of slavery is based. Thepreservation of such a system is important enough to outweigh anyshort-term costs of cluelessness: it is alright for slaves to trick you intogiving them free meat occasionally because if you understood themwell enough to outwit them, you would no longer believe in slavery. Ifyou place yourself in the minds of Iraqi civilians approaching a checkpoint,you might question whether you should even be in Iraq, a doubtwhich is more tolerable in an enlisted man than an officer. If you thinkof citizens during a natural disaster as intelligent human beings as opposedto a mob, then you might lack the necessary distance to imposeextraordinary measures such as martial law.Calling a person an animalOn March 31, 2004, four US military contractors working for BlackwaterSecurity Consulting were ambushed and killed by Iraqi insurgentsin Fallujah; their bodies were mutilated and hung over a bridge.The New York Times reported that “Enraged Mob in Falluja Kills 4 AmericanContractors” (Gettleman 2004). On April 1, L. Paul Bremer, head ofthe Coalition Provisional Authority in Iraq, made the following statementduring the commencement ceremony for new graduates of thepolice academy in Baghdad: “Yesterday’s events in Fallujah are a dramaticexample of the ongoing struggle between human dignity andbarbarism. Five brave soldiers were killed by an attack in their area.Then, two vehicles containing four Americans were attacked and theirbodies subjected to barbarous maltreatment. . . . You, the finest of thehonorable majority of Iraq’s men and women, have chosen to confrontthe evil-doers, to carry the banner of civilization. You have put toshame the human jackals who defiled the streets of Fallujah” (Bremer2004).On the evening of April 4, US military forces surrounded Fallujahand on April 5 began attacking insurgent positions, also killing hundredsof civilians. On September 13, Lt. General James T. Conway, the271

top US general in charge of western Iraq, told reporters that he hadopposed the Fallujah invasion: “We felt . . . that we ought to probablylet the situation settle before we appeared to be attacking out ofrevenge” (Chandrasekaran 2004). According to a UPI report, “seniorcommanders universally said in interviews. . . [that] they would nothave gone into Fallujah at that time under those conditions. . . . [T]heimmediate aftermath of the March 31 killings was not the time to fight,they said. First, that robbed them of the element of surprise. . . . Second,it ‘taught’ the insurgents that their provocative acts could drawthe United States into an urban battle when they wanted it, rather thanthe other way around. Third, finding the individuals whose faces wereon the videotape of the contractor killings is in essence a police job. . .. [I]t would be easy under peaceful conditions to have local police findthe identities of the killers and arrest them” (United Press International2004). However, perceiving a challenge to the superior status of the US,George Bush stated: “We will not be intimidated. . . . We will finishthe job” (Rubin and McManus 2004).The attack on Fallujah was a public relations disaster for the US:“as thousands of Fallujans escaped their city and fled to other parts ofIraq, they brought with them tales of horror and civilian death that noamount of propaganda could combat” (Scahill 2008, p. 205). Indeed, UScluelessness is evident in its obsession with status. Insurgents have asubhuman status; Bremer calls them barbarians and uses caste languagelike “defile.” The purpose of the Iraqi police graduation ceremony isto establish the new social status of the graduates, and even thoughthey have nothing to do with the Fallujah killings, Bremer feels free touse them and their ceremony to heighten the status contrast betweenthem and the insurgents, between “good” and “evil” Iraqis. US commandersknew that the operation had fundamental tactical flaws andhad preferred to understand the issue in terms of capturing individualcriminals, not a battle between one kind of people (guardians of civilization)and another kind (enraged mob). Lakhdar Brahimi, UnitedNations envoy to Iraq, called the US attack “collective punishment”(Rubin and McManus 2004).272

Bremer’s terminology is quite specifically animal: the killers arejackals, not just barbarians or savages. It is often remarked that callingyour enemy an animal discounts his humanity and thereby makes iteasier to kill him; elsewhere in his statement Bremer uses the word“ghouls,” who are already dead. But in addition, calling your enemyan animal is a way of saying that you don’t have to think about hismotivations, making for example negotiations, which require you toacknowledge his goals, inconceivable. According to Vermeule (2010,p. 195), “[s]ituational mind blindness . . . deny[ing] other people theperspective of rational agency by turning them into animals, machines,or anything without a mind” is a more complex kind of dehumanizationthan simply positing that “members of the hated countergroup do notcount as human, and therefore moral rules do not apply to them.”Not acknowledging that your enemy has goals might improve yourbargaining position but at the expense of not being able to think aboutyour enemy strategically. On April 9, due to international outrage andalso the military’s concern that the attack was creating new recruits forthe insurgency, the US announced a unilateral cease-fire (Rubin andMcManus 2004). After negotiations, the US established the Fallujahbrigade, supplying over 800 assault rifles and over 25 trucks so Fallujahresidents could govern themselves. Creating a new social status, a newkind of good Iraqi, was insufficient, however, and these weapons andvehicles were soon used in insurgent attacks.Bremer also uses the term “evil-doers.” Like calling someone ananimal, calling someone evil is a declaration that he is a different kindof person, and that we do not have to enter into his repulsive mind.We must not feel empathy for him or think about his motivations, eventhough as a result we cannot think strategically about him.273

16Concluding remarksI close by discussing how this book relates to existing work. Forat least eighty years, people have found literary examples helpful inintroducing game-theoretic concepts: Morgenstern (1928, p. 98, quotedin Morgenstern 1935 [1976], p. 173–174) considered the pursuit of SherlockHolmes by Professor Moriarty, in which each choose to get off thetrain at either Dover or Canterbury (Conan Doyle 1893 [2005]). VonNeumann and Morgenstern (1944, p. 176) called this “a paradigm ofmany possible conflicts in practical life.” More recently, Dixit and Nalebuff(2008, p. 423) use an example from Shakespeare’s Henry V in whichKing Henry allows any soldier to leave before the battle of Agincourt,but only publicly in front of all the other soldiers (see also Dixit 2005).Crawford, Costa-Gomes, and Iriberri (2010) use literary examples suchas M. M. Kaye’s The Far Pavilions in support of “level-k” models in gametheory.Despite calls to use game theory more in the analysis of literature(including Brams 1994, reprinted in Brams 2011, De Ley 1988, Delocheand Oguer 2006, and Swirski 1996), attempts have been few. Brams(2002) on the Bible is one of the few book-length attempts. O’Neill(1990, 2001) uses game theory to explain why Gawain accepts a bizarrechallenge in the Middle English poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knightand to appreciate the cleverness of the knight in the poem Lai de l’Ombre,who, after his lady refuses his ring, drops it into her reflection in a well.Chrissochoidis, Harmgart, Huck, and Müller (2010) argue that in theRichard Wagner opera, “Tannhäuser’s seemingly irrational behavior isactually consistent with a strategy of redemption,” despite the claimfor example by Ingrao (2001, p. 33) that “economic thinkers . . . seemto have systematically sought to eliminate the darker side of human274

ehavior” explored in literature (see also Harmgart, Huck, and Müller(2008) and Chrissochoidis and Huck (2010)). Overall, scholarly interactionsbetween game theory and the humanities have been tentativeat best (see for example Chwe 2009 and other essays in the collectionintroduced by Palumbo-Liu 2009).This book similarly uses examples from literature, like the Beatrice-Benedict and Richard-Harrison examples, to introduce game-theoreticconcepts, and similarly uses game theory to analyze strategic situationsand techniques in literary works, such as how exactly Flossie Finley’sprojection of naivety keeps the fox from stealing her eggs. However,this book makes a stronger claim, that literary works such as Austen’snovels, Oklahoma!, and African American folktales are game theory. Inother words, Austen, Hammerstein, and the African American folktaletradition do not simply provide “raw material” for game theory toanalyze but write with the explicit objective of teaching and analyzingstrategic reasoning, with ambitions ranging from the specific (as in theFlossie Finley tale) to the systematic (as in Austen’s novels).It should not be surprising that people have been exploring strategicthinking for centuries. Elster (1999, p. 50) employs literary examplesto analyze how emotions affect action, arguing that “prescientific insightsinto the emotions are not simply superseded by modern psychologyin the way natural philosophy has been superseded by physics.”Even though game theory is strongly associated with post-World WarII mathematical social science, strategic thinking has been accessibleto writers throughout the ages. O’Neill (1982, 2009) and Aumann andMaschler (1985) consider the problem of conflicting claims to an estate;for example, say that a father has willed 100, 200, and 300 dollars to hisfirst, second, and third sons respectively but has left an estate worthonly 200 dollars. Using game theory, they are able to “reverse engineer”and generalize solutions advanced in the Babylonian Talmudmore than 1500 years ago: in the example above, it is suggested in theTalmud that the first son should get 50 and the second and third 75 each(see Landsburg 1998). In other words, Talmudic solutions were part ofa systematic way of thinking which centuries later is rediscovered, andmost fully appreciated, by mathematical game theory. Parikh (2008)275

finds game-theoretic insights in the Akbar Birbal stories from the 16thcentury and also the Mahabharata. Cowen (2005) and Morgan (2010)explore the similarities between economic models and narratives instories and novels. Ober (2011) finds that Greek authors includingHerodotus and Thucydides “regarded individuals and groups as . .. capable of planning and acting strategically” and insightfully analyzed,thousands of years before game theorists took up the question,how societies induce individuals to cooperate.Livingston (1991, p. 51) argues that “not only are the concepts andissues related to rationality and irrationality directly relevant, and indeed,essential, to enquiries concerning literature, but literature in turnhas genuine cognitive value in relation to questions of human rationalityand irrationality.” For example, Theodore Dreiser explains aperson’s imitation of another in terms of biological drives or animalinstinct, not choice; in The Financier he goes as far as invoking an animalmodel, the black grouper, a fish which camouflages itself to matchits surroundings. However, Livingston notes that Dreiser’s charactersimitate in a goal-directed manner: in Sister Carrie, Carrie and her loverDrouet observe a woman walk by and Drouet remarks that she is a“fine stepper”; as a result Carrie thinks to herself, “If that was so fineshe must look at it more closely. Instinctively she felt a desire to imitateit. Surely she could do that too” (Dreiser 1900 [1981], p. 99, quoted inLivingston 1991, p. 112). Although Dreiser describes Carrie’s desire toimitate as “instinctive,” Livingston points out that “Carrie’s intentionalattitudes and reasoning are indispensable parts of the episode: havingbeen confronted with the proposition that a particular bit of behaviouris to be valued, she concludes that it must be observed more carefully;she asks herself whether it figures among the realm of her possibleactions, [and] determines that this is indeed the case” (Livingston 1991,p. 113). Indeed, “the claims made by Dreiser’s naturalist narratorsare flatly contradicted by other aspects of the work” (Livingston 1991,p. 84). Dreiser thus interestingly contrasts with Austen, whose theoreticalstance on human action, emphasizing preferences, choice, andstrategy, is largely consistent with how her characters act.276

Livingston explores irrationality by looking at the life course ofLazare Chanteau in Emile Zola’s La Joie de Vivre (1883–84). Lazareattempts several different careers, including composing music, practicingmedicine, and building a huge factory to extract valuable chemicalsfrom seaweed, but gives up each at the slightest difficulty. ThroughoutLazare does not want mere success but thinks of each “project as a wayof quickly manifesting his individual genius and singularity” and isinfluenced by his mother, who is obsessed with “a public recovery ofher imagined distinction and superiority” through her son (Livingston1991, p. 164, 176). Lazare is strategically unskilled: “he makes extremelynaive judgements about the motives and capacities of others,”and while negotiating with his business partner, “fail[s] to take noteof the fact that he is in a strategic situation where his interests requirehim to formulate expectations about the possible strategic actions of theother party” (Livingston 1991, p. 175, 168). Lazare prefers the literal,taking his mother’s statements “at face value,” and “attach[es] far toomuch weight to what may be called erroneous ‘tutelary beliefs’. . . .[H]e frequently assumes that the information needed is all in the handsof some single authoritative individual” (Livingston 1991, p. 177, 175).Livingston argues that Lazare is not simply stupid; what is interestingis his stupidity’s particular pattern and features. In his strategicnaivety and preoccupation with status and literality, we can say thatLazare joins Flossie’s Fox, Will Parker, Mr. Collins, and Sir Walter inour ranks of the clueless.Butte (2004) and Zunshine (2007) argue that Austen was particularlyinnovative and ambitious in analyzing how her characters thinkabout each other. For example, when Anne Elliot sees her sister Elizabethcoldly turn away after Captain Wentworth clearly wants to beacknowledged by her, Zunshine (2007, p. 279) notes that this can beunderstood as involving five levels of metaknowledge: “Anne realizesthat Wentworth understands that Elizabeth pretends not to recognizethat he wants to be acknowledged as an acquaintance.” For Butte (2004,p. 25–26), Austen’s novels are a “sea change in the representation ofconsciousnesses in narratives. . . . not only of consciousness, but alsoof consciousnesses, of a newly framed intersubjectivity.” Zunshine’s277

(2006) argument is that literature exercises and develops the reader’stheory of mind, by making the reader keep track of what each characterknows about others, and this exercise is the main reason for readingfiction in general. In contrast, my claim is more specific: certain specific(not all) literary works explore and teach strategic thinking not just bymaking the reader follow what each character knows but by illustratingspecific strategic techniques and by discussing choice, preferences,and strategic thinking explicitly. Theory of mind is essential to but isjust one part of strategic thinking. For example, Captain Wentworthasks his sister Mrs. Croft to ask the fatigued Anne Elliot to join herand Admiral Croft in their carriage because he knows that Anne woulddecline his own suggestion but cannot refuse his sister’s request; hereCaptain Wentworth uses his theory of mind to figure out what Annewould do (and Anne uses hers to understand Captain Wentworth’sfeelings for her), but coming up with the idea of asking his sister to askAnne requires additional cleverness and creativity. It is important topractice theory of mind skills, but one must also practice, for example,how to take advantage of weaknesses in the theory of mind of others,as in the Flossie Finley tale or Elizabeth’s handling of Lady Catherine.Histories of the origins of game theory usually highlight the earlyUS-Soviet cold war period, when von Neumann and Morgenstern(1944) and Nash (1950, 1951) made foundational contributions andthe RAND Corporation, established by the US Air Force in 1946 inSanta Monica, California, was an important locus. Leonard (2010)looks more broadly, considering for example popular interest in chess,extrapolated into a “science of struggle” by twenty-four-time worldchess champion and mathematician Emanuel Lasker (1907). Amadae(2003, p. 9) argues that the growth of rational choice theory and gametheory should be understood as “a philosophic underpinning for Americaneconomic and political liberalism” and Fourcade (2009, p. 128) seesthe related ascendance of mathematical techniques in economics in theUnited States as an aspiration toward professionalism, “in the sense of aclaim to objectivity, a focus on analytical capabilities, and a high degreeof collective organization and regulation.” Early writers on strategicthinking include people such as military general Sun Tzu and Oxford278

lecturer Lewis Carroll (see the survey by Dimand and Dimand 1996).All in all, the conclusion that game theory has developed as a discourseof the powerful and privileged seems inevitable.But game theory has additional historical roots, equally if not moresystematic and nourishing, in the works of outsiders and the less powerful,such as Austen, Hammerstein, and African American folktellers.It is not surprising that the less powerful prize strategic thinking. Aprivileged person can assume that everyone else is already doing whatthey are supposed to (and the less powerful can strategically use thisassumption, and that person’s investment in privilege, against them).In his analysis of Polish prison, Kaminski (2004, p. 1) writes that “Prisonsocializes an inmate to behave hyperrationally. . . . A clever move canshorten one’s sentence, save one from a rape or a beating, keep one’sspirit high, or increase one’s access to resources.”Arising out of specific circumstances, folk game theory has generalapplicability. The Flossie and the Fox story, for example, has theoreticalimport and its applicability is not limited to the specific African Americanrural experience. Similarly, discussions of the political implicationsof Austen’s novels need not be limited to, for example, the intellectualand political context in which she wrote (for example Johnson 1988).If folk game theory is so useful as it is, why mathematize? Arethe technical innovations of the last several decades necessary? A personwith well-developed social skills might see mathematical gametheory like Elizabeth Bennet sees whist and backgammon, as overspecializedand irrelevant. Recently the formalism of modern economicshas been called “autistic,” as if that’s a bad thing. It is possible thatrepetitive obsession with mathematics can prevent real-world understanding(Mohn 2010, Devine 2006), and drawing a game tree to showhow Fanny gets Betsey to give up Susan’s knife might very well betechnical overkill for such a simple situation. But at least a game treeis a visual, concrete, representation. Just as teachers working with studentson the autistic spectrum have developed visuals such as cartoonsand thought bubbles to represent peoples’ thoughts and motivations(Gray 1994, Baker 2001, Cohen and Sloan 2007), game theory uses diagramsand tables, with numbers. Cowen (2009, p. 170) argues that279

Adam Smith (1759 [2009]) writes about sympathy from the perspectiveof an outsider, who must keenly observe and analyze others becausehe does not “get it” himself, perhaps because Smith himself was onthe autistic spectrum. Thus along with its extensibility, a mathematicalperspective is useful precisely because it is different, because it makesyou state explicitly what some find obvious. This explicitness mightalso be the only way to approach more complicated situations whichare not obvious to anyone. A richer understanding of game theory’smore diverse and advanced historical roots combined with technicaladvances can yield new insights about people and their stories.280

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