Harriet Taylor (1807-1858) was a radical reformer, philosopher, political economist and feminist. Her contribution to both theory and practice has been generally overlooked, like that of many women throughout history. In Taylor’s case this has been compounded by the fact she married the famous British thinker and reformer, John Stuart Mill, whose legacy has tended to overshadow her own. Recent scholarship has sought to take Taylor seriously as a thinker in her own right.
In the 1850s, Taylor and Mill[1] wrote a series of newspaper articles on domestic violence, criticising what they saw as problematic public opinion on the issue, as well as poor decisions made by judges and juries. These were published anonymously, as was normal for newspaper articles at the time. It was radical for Taylor to write about these issues, which were not seen as ‘suitable’ for women.
Several of the pieces have a feminist angle, highlighting that the violence experienced by women and children – ‘those who are under the power of others’ – in the home is due to male privilege and, in particular, the sense men have that their wives, children and servants are their property. ‘It is evident’, Taylor writes, ‘that they are impressed with the belief of their having a right to inflict almost any amount of corporal violence upon their wife or their children’ (Taylor, 1998, 116). Seeing “their” wives and children literally as property, they think they have the right to treat them however they please, including causing death.
Worse, this attitude extends to juries, who rarely find such men guilty of murder, but instead of manslaughter, even though this is in direct contradiction to the law. It also extends to judges, who uphold these verdicts and impose light punishments compared to, for instance, crimes against property such as theft. Indeed, Taylor thinks it is ‘the universal belief’ of most men ‘that the law permits them to beat their wives – and the wives themselves share the general error’ (Taylor 1998, 117). She calls for judges and juries to start applying the law properly; for the ‘arm of the law’ to take seriously all cases of ‘the tyranny of bodily strength’; and for a declaratory Act of Parliament ‘distinctly setting forth that it is not lawful for a man to strike his wife, and more than to strike his brother or his father’. We do now have clearer legislation regarding domestic violence (with a new Domestic Abuse Bill currently working its way through Parliament). And some of the underlying assumptions and beliefs Taylor identifies have changed, though perhaps only relatively recently. Yet many of her critical insights still have bite, 170 years later.
Taylor also points out how hard it is for victims to speak out about abuse, knowing that whether their abuser goes to prison or not, once he is released he will have the right to compel them to live with him again. This was part of contemporary law regarding marriage, and Taylor called for it to be changed.
Judicial leniency makes perpetrators believe they can get away with violence, and this leads to violence continuing. Worse, domestic violence breeds future violence. Children brought up under a ‘tyranny of physical force’ don’t receive the kind of ‘moral education’ we all need in order to be able to parent and co-habit peacefully. Therefore, they are ‘incapable of ruling their children by any other means but blows’. Similarly, the leniency of the law makes ‘victims regard their suffering and debasement as the regular course of things, which the law sanctions and the world allows; and when not crushed entirely, they seek a wretched compensation by tyrannising in their turn, when any hapless fellow-creature comes within their power’ (Taylor, 1998, 104). Taylor consistently highlights that women also perpetrate domestic violence, particularly against children and domestic servants, but traces the root cause of this back to the patriarchy. Society should take violence against people (and particularly women and children) more seriously. And judges and juries, Taylor urges, should be aware of the real consequences of their ‘short-sighted tenderness’ when the thought of inflicting harsh punishments (long sentences, or significant fines) makes them uncomfortable.
Taylor also makes more general criticisms of public response to violent crimes and how to punish them. She criticises the euphemisms ‘common assault’ and ‘domestic tyranny’, saying people hardly ever really comprehend – or want to acknowledge – the on-going brutality, violence, terror and suffering these phrases encompass. She also criticises the prevailing opinion whereby ‘the idea of punishment is … sunk into that of reformatory discipline’, and ‘retribution to the culprit, and the deterring of future offenders – are well-nigh sinking out of view’, with prisons viewed as ‘hospitals for the morally sick’ (Taylor, 1998, 95).
Punishment as a deterrent is quite a controversial ethical view. Some argue that it is fundamentally disrespectful of someone’s individual humanity to punish them as an example to others (though we could punish to prevent re-offending). But consequentialists like Taylor, who think actions are justified by their outcomes, think using punishments as a deterrent – both to individual (potential) offenders and to the general population – is legitimate, a view with many modern supporters.
Taylor criticises judges and jurors who avoid inflicting harsh sentences where these are needed for deterrence either because of misplaced sympathy for the perpetrator, or a kind of squeamishness at inflicting suffering on anyone (even those guilty of brutally violent crimes). Indeed, she even goes as far as to suggest that corporal punishment would be a justified response ‘in the case of ruffianly assaults, committed in the mere wantonness of brutality, against creatures whose sole offence is to be inferior in physical strength’ (Taylor, 1998, 97). That is, she thinks that some violent people can only be deterred by the threat of, or experience of, violence against themselves. Though corporal punishment does not seem like a good answer, this concern speaks to an on-going question of meaningful punishment and deterrence, and the purpose(s) of prison.
Changing the kinds of punishments inflicted and/or the laws themselves, and properly enforcing them, is not Taylor’s only answer to the problem of domestic violence. But she sees the law (and lack of enforcement) as guiding and shaping public opinion, and thus individual actions. It is, therefore, key in ending violence. As is a clear-eyed recognition by jurors and judges of the severity of the crimes they are asked to sentence people for, and a recognition that leniency may cause great harm to victims.
This is a pretty hard-line argument. (Perhaps this has also surprised or shocked later commentators, leading to some harsh judgements of Taylor’s character.) But whether we agree with her or not, Taylor raises interesting, and salient, questions regarding why some crimes are taken more seriously than others; the causes and consequences of domestic violence itself, and (male) judges and juries’ unwillingness to treat it harshly and the purpose of punishment.
Helen McCabe is Assistant Professor in Political Theory at the University of Nottingham. Most of her research has focussed on John Stuart Mill and Harriet Taylor, their socialism, feminism, and co-authoring relationship. Her book John Stuart Mill: Socialist will be published by McGill-Queens University Press in 2021. Recent publications on Taylor include a chapter in The Philosopher Queens and an article in the British Journal for the History of Philosophy (both 2020). Helen is currently an AHRC Fellow with the Rights Lab, where her work focuses on the relationship (if any) between forced marriage and modern slavery.
[1] Though the pieces are co-authored, I will just use ‘Taylor’ from here on – in part because so often ‘Mill’ has been used in the past to cover both of them. References are to The Complete Works of Harriet Taylor Mill edited by Jo Ellen Jacobs (Bloomington: 1998), but these pieces are also reprinted in Collected Works of John Stuart Mill volume 20 (Toronto: 1984), which is easier to access (being freely available online).