Please see my “Annotated Bibliography” page for citations, as well as for the latest interesting articles that I’ve found.

***

Rethinking Atticus Finch: A Paragon of Virtue or Just Another Politician?

Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, set in 1930s Maycomb County, Alabama, tells the story of an African-American man, Tom Robinson, who is falsely accused of raping a white woman named Mayella Ewell. Robinson is presumed guilty by his entire community, and only one lawyer – Atticus Finch – steps forward to defend him. Finch is forced to endure the animosity of many people in Maycomb County as a result of his decision to represent a man who is perceived as an unrepentant rapist. Thus, literary critics have crowned Finch as a paragon of virtue and have hailed Harper Lee’s novel as a masterpiece. In this paper, however, I will cast a critical lens on some of Atticus Finch’s behavior, and I will attempt to show that, on balance, Finch should be seen as a deeply flawed individual – and as an elitist politician who is not truly interested in promoting racial justice in Maycomb County. Rather, he participates, both actively and passively, in a system of racial oppression and perverts justice as he sees fit, contrary to what a strict interpretation of the law would dictate.
On the surface, one might think that Atticus Finch risked his social standing and reputation as a Maycomb County politician, and even his physical safety, to defend Tom Robinson (Lubet 1339). But, in truth, Finch did not volunteer to defend Tom Robinson; he was appointed to do so by Judge Taylor. Thus, Finch was not truly risking his social reputation by defending Robinson, but simply carrying out a task that had been assigned to him by the court – a task he “had to [do], whether he wanted to or not” (Lee 163). As Monroe Friedman points out, failure to take the case would likely have resulted in Finch’s own imprisonment for contempt of court (Friedman, “Atticus Finch: Right or Wrong”). Finch takes on the case because he is obligated to, not because of any genuine feeling for Tom Robinson or his family. When Robinson is convicted, Finch simply collects his papers and leaves the courtroom as if his business is finished and there is nothing more that he can do (Lee 211). We do not hear the outburst of vehement protest that we would expect from a true proponent of civil rights and equality. Indeed, some critics have argued that none of Finch’s actions are motivated by true empathy (“Being Atticus Finch,” 1689). His personality is best characterized as one of “cool, reasoned detachment” (ibid, 1688). It would be fair to say that Finch’s attitude towards his appointment as defense counsel helps to reveal his true inner feelings about fighting racism: Atticus says, “I’d hoped to get through life without a case of this kind, but John Taylor pointed at me and said, You’re It.” (Lee 88).
It seems from this remark as though Atticus Finch is not truly interested in combatting racial inequality in his community, and he does not seem particularly enthusiastic about the opportunity he has finally been given to do so. On the contrary, he seems nonchalant and unhappy, for he would have preferred “to get through life” without having to defend an innocent African-American, and it is only that circumstances have now compelled him to do so. It is not clear what, if anything, Finch has done in the past to combat the forces of racism in Maycomb County, Alabama, where he serves as a state legislator (Friedman). It seems that Atticus Finch is very much a part of the racially oppressive government that he now claims to oppose, and that he is complicit in perpetuating a system that tolerates racial injustice. As Friedman notes, Finch is, at the very least, a passive participant in the racial inequalities that plague his community and his country. He does not think to complain that African-Americans attending court (including clergy) are relegated to the balcony. As a resident of Maycomb County, he no doubt permits himself to dine in segregated restaurants and to stroll through parks where signs say “No Dogs or Colored Allowed.” Moreover, Finch condones and excuses the blatant racism of others. For example, when his children ask him about the Ku Klux Klan, Finch, an autodidactic man who spends most of his free time reading newspapers, replies:
[W]ay back about nineteen-twenty there was a Klan, but it was a political organization more than anything. Besides, they couldn’t find anybody to scare. They paraded by Mr. Sam Levy’s house one night, but Sam … made ‘em so ashamed of themselves they went away (Lee 147).
Now, Atticus Finch tells his children, the Ku Klux Klan is gone and it will never come back (ibid). These remarks, of course, are patently false and a gross distortion of historical reality, especially for a man who is a state legislator, an attorney, and a prolific reader of local newspapers. In truth, the Ku Klux Klan was not simply a “political organization” that marched by the house of one person in 1920, but rather, an outright terrorist organization that burned crosses and targeted racial minorities throughout the South, including African-Americans and (in the case of Sam Levy) Jews. It is simply impossible that anyone familiar with 1930s Alabama would believe the story that Atticus Finch tells his children about the Ku Klux Klan.
Perhaps one could argue that Finch deceives his children about the Klan simply because he does not wish them to scare them. And, yet, that would be out of character for an attorney who presents himself as an advocate of truthfulness and who does, in fact, find other occasions to talk to his children about the evils of racism in their community. Finch’s notion of proper parenting is that “[w]hen a child asks you something, answer him” because children can “spot an evasion quicker than adults, and evasion simply muddles ‘em” (ibid, 87). Based on Finch’s self-proclaimed aversion to subterfuge, it cannot be said that he gave his children false information about the Ku Klax Klan because he wanted to shield and to protect them from the harsh realities of racism and violence. The only conclusion one can draw from Finch’s remarks is that he truly believes the Klan to have been an innocuous and ephemeral entity, that he has no problem with it, or – at the very least – that he is wholly nonchalant and blithely disinterested in the terroristic activities of that so-called “political organization” (Lubet 1339).
Later, Atticus Finch tells his children that “one of these days we’re going to pay the bill” for decades of discrimination against African-Americans, but he adds: “I hope it’s not in you children’s time” (Lee 221). In other words, Finch hopes that the payment for racism (and, with it, justice for African-Americans) will not come in his children’s lifetime (Dare 243-44). He recognizes that eventually, the era of discrimination will come to an end, but he hopes that the achievement of racial equality will be pushed off to later generations.
Atticus Finch excuses the leader of a lynch mob who comes to attack him as “basically a good man” who “just has his blind spots along with the rest of us.” Finch tells his children that the members of the lynch mob are, in reality, “our friends” (Lee 157). This may be part of Atticus’ attempt to get along with everyone in his community, but at the same time, it is yet another way in which he lies to his children and defends people who espouse virulently racist views. If Atticus counts the members of the lynch mob among his friends and praises their leader as “a good man,” one has to wonder to what extent this white Southern politician shares their bigoted views.
But racism is not Finch’s only weakness; he also permits himself to speak in ways that are blatantly sexist. When his children ask him why Alabama law prohibits women from serving on juries, Atticus tells them, in what seems to be a tone of amusement: “I guess it’s to protect our frail ladies from sordid cases like Tom’s. Besides … I doubt if we’d ever get a complete case tried – the ladies [would] be interrupting to ask questions” (Lee 221). It may very well be that such sexist attitudes were appropriate for the 1930s, and widely prevalent in that era, but it is surprising that this kind of response would come from an attorney who is ostensibly a progressive and a proponent of civil rights for minorities – an attorney who is supposedly tolerant and kind in a way that is uncharacteristic for people of his time.
It is also noteworthy that in his closing argument to the jury, Finch dismisses First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt as “the distaff side of the executive branch in Washington” (Lee 205). While he encourages his son Jem to follow in his footsteps and to go into the practice of law, Finch does not similarly encourage his daughter. Perhaps this is because such career opportunities were not readily available for women in 1930s Alabama, but as someone who is portrayed as a paragon of virtue who transcends the limitations of his time and argues in favor of true equality, Finch would have done well to treat his daughter no differently from the way he treated his son.
Another disturbing feature of Atticus Finch’s character is that he is complicit in deceiving the police – and his own children – about Boo Radley’s coldblooded murder of Bob Ewell, the father of the allegedly raped Mayella Ewell. Boo Radley killed Bob Ewell after the latter had started to attack Atticus’ children Jem and Scout. Instead of blaming Boo Radley, however, Finch initially attempts to blame his own son for the murder, but eventually tells his daughter Scout that “Mr. Ewell fell on his knife” (Lee 276). Finch then proceeds to thank Boo Radley for defending his children – even at the expense of another man’s life (ibid). Even though it is clear that Boo Radley acted in defense of others, it does not seem right that an attorney should tell his own children a false narrative about an act of homicide and willfully refuse to place blame on the party that is responsible.
This is especially so when that attorney tells his daughter that she should not hate even Adolf Hitler because “[i]t’s not okay to hate anybody” (ibid, 246). And, yet, Atticus Finch feels justified in lying about the murder of Bob Ewell precisely because of his long-standing hatred and contempt for the Ewell family. Earlier in the novel, Atticus tells his daughter Scout his opinion of the Ewells, whom he describes as “the disgrace of Maycomb County for three generations. None of them had done an honest day’s work in his recollection. … They were people, but they lived like animals” (ibid, 30). Scout recalls her father lambasting the Ewells and referring to them as “absolute trash,” and testifies that she “never heard Atticus talk about folks the way he talked about the Ewells” (ibid, 124; Lubet 1342).
It is no wonder, then, that Atticus Finch considers the murder of Bob Ewell to have been justified. After all, Finch insinuated at the trial of Tom Robinson that it was really Bob Ewell who assaulted and raped his own daughter (Lee 178). Afterwards, Bob Ewell attacked Finch in public, spitting on him, cursing him, and threatening to kill him (ibid, 217). Although at the time Finch did not even bother to defend himself, this incident surely solidified his earlier impression of the Ewell family as “absolute trash.” Even if Finch initially refused to defend himself against Ewell’s aggression, he could not have been too bothered by Boo Radley’s homicidal actions, and he preferred to falsely attribute Ewell’s death to suicide (i.e., falling on his own knife).
To Finch, the loss of Bob Ewell’s life at the hands of a murderer is no loss at all; the attorney and state legislator convinces himself that life can simply go on because the death of a racist villain need not be punished, and the county sheriff need not be told the truth. Finch told his daughter Scout on an earlier occasion that “[s]ometimes, it’s better to bend the law a little in special cases” (ibid, 30). Atticus clearly believes that the murder of Bob Ewell is one of those “special cases” where the law and the truth are not important – one of those cases where “reason” (i.e., one’s own personal understanding of right and wrong) must prevail over the law. In other words, “the end justifies the means”: the most important thing is that Bob Ewell is dead, since he is “absolute trash,” even if it means covering up a crime perpetrated by Finch’s own neighbor (see Dare, “Lawyers, Ethics, and To Kill a Mockingbird,” 131-132). In the end, Finch has no moral compunctions about deceiving both the law enforcement in Maycomb County as well as his own daughter in order to cover up a murder that he knows the truth about, simply because he dislikes the victim of that murder and considers his death to have been justified.
Finch’s understanding of the notion of empathy is troubling. While he advises his daughter Scout that she will “get along a lot better” with people if she tries to “consider things from [their] point of view,” Finch himself does not do so (Lee 30). The “empathy” that Atticus Finch feels for the Ewell family could be more accurately characterized as a kind of patronizing contempt. The Ewell family is on the lowest level of the totem pole in Maycomb society because Bob Ewell “spends his relief checks on green whiskey” (ibid, 31). Atticus Finch’s diction suggests that he speaks from a position of privilege, as a self-educated and articulate man, a prominent attorney, and a state legislator. Finch is an accomplished and respected man: he has a son who aspires to be a lawyer, and both of his children address him as “sir”; Bob Ewell, on the other hand, has children who attend school only one day a year (ibid). To Atticus Finch, in his privileged view, the Ewells are worthless, low-life, good-for-nothing individuals who are a burden on society, people who live like animals, unlike the “decent folks” of Maycomb County who ought to be honored and respected (Lubet 1342). As for Mayella Ewell, Finch concedes that “[s]he is the victim of cruel poverty and ignorance,” but he refuses to pity her because she is white (Lee 203). According to Finch’s narrative, Mayella was sexually assaulted by her father; by his own admission, she and her family have been destitute, mostly illiterate, and the disgrace of their community for generations. And, yet, Finch publicly asserts that this poor, battered, and downtrodden woman, who has a violent alcoholic for a father, should not be pitied – simply because she is white.
Atticus Finch’s claim that he tries to loves everybody and that no one ought to be hated is not really true. His attitude towards the Ewell family is one of vehement contempt that, perhaps, masquerades as empathy for their predicament and their low standing in society (“Being Atticus Finch,” 1687). When Finch cross-examines Mayella Ewell during the trial of Tom Robinson, he forces her to reveal to the jury the embarrassing circumstances of her family life: “The jury learned [that] their relief check was far from enough to feed the family, and there was strong suspicion that Papa drank it up anyway” (Lee 183). Atticus fails to appreciate how humiliated the young Mayella feels as a result of being interrogated about her miserable life; the girl’s distress and pain are most evident when the defense lawyer suggests that it was really her father who assaulted her.
In defending Tom Robinson against charges of rape, Atticus Finch uses an argument that has come to symbolize contempt for women – the “she wanted it” defense. According to Finch, it was Mayella who initiated her sexual interaction with Tom Robinson. She planned out a day when she would be able to get the Ewell children out of the house; then, she invited Tom into her house, jumped on Tom, hugged him, and asked him to kiss her (Lubet 1345). In other words, the whole situation was Mayella’s fault because, in Atticus’ words, “[s]he tempted a Negro” (Lee 203). Finch fails to realize that blaming the victim of sexual assault is demeaning and insulting; it is surely not the mark of a progressive and liberal attorney.
Atticus asserts that the prosecution has failed to produce “medical evidence” of rape (Lee 203). Of course, testimony is regarded as wholly legitimate evidence, but Finch does not consider Mayella’s testimony to be legitimate since she is just an ignorant girl from a family that he considers to be “absolute trash.” Finch tells his children that, in his opinion, before a defendant is convicted, there should be “one or two witnesses” to the crime. In this case, there were, in fact, two witnesses – Mayella and Bob Ewell. But, for Atticus, the testimony of the Ewells is meaningless and worthless. For Atticus, the quintessential privileged attorney, what they say does not matter at all (Lubet 1351).
Even though Atticus Finch has been painted by many as a hero and hailed as a valiant defender of the oppressed, the time has come to re-consider this personage and to look at the disturbing details of his interactions with other characters in To Kill a Mockingbird. Finch lies to his children; he lies to the police; he publically humiliates a destitute victim of sexual abuse; he goes about life with an extraordinarily privileged air and little true empathy for the suffering of others. What if Finch is not an icon, but rather a man who largely shares the sexist, racist, and class prejudices of his time and place? What if he is not a beacon of enlightenment and tolerance, but just another unsavory lawyer who, like many in his profession, has a penchant for distorting the truth? What if Atticus Finch is not a paragon of virtue, but just another politician? (Lubet 1340)