The misunderstood man of A Doll's House: Defending Torvald
A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen, published in 1879, is considered a powerful piece of feminist literature. Nora’s departure, her speech, the dramatic fight— every bit of this play can be viewed and analysed from a feminist standpoint. Even after almost 150 years since its publishing, the play shows deeper truths about our modern culture and mindsets.
It is important to point out that Ibsen himself said that this play was not written with women’s liberation in mind, but human liberation from social conventions. But, of course, a piece of literary work can be interpreted in many ways, and this analysis looks into one such perspective.
All three acts of this play three take place in the Helmer house. Nora is the beautiful wife of Helmer. Eight years prior to the setting of the play, Nora commits fraud of which Krogstad, a lawyer, is aware. He blackmails her throughout the most part of the play by threatening to expose her secret to her husband if she does not prevent his impending termination. In the end, her husband finds out and scolds and insults her. However, being assured of no future harm, he calms down and attempts reconciliation. Nora believes to have seen his ‘true side’. She believes she is treated as a doll for his amusement, and not a proper human being. With this in mind, she leaves her husband and their three children in a quest to find herself.
The antagonist of the play is, at first, thought to be Nils Krogstad; however, upon further reading we understand that the main conflict is more familial than initially assumed. Mrs. Helmer is the protagonist all right, but her husband is now the antagonist.
Helmer is complex, as is every person to have walked this planet. Feminist analysis of this play condenses his character into a cookie-cutter model of The Oppressive Patriarchal Husband, but this does us the disservice of not understanding a broader, perhaps a different, perspective.
Of his multiple traits, one that we encounter is his love for Nora. He calls her his bird, his squirrel, his lark, his spendthrift etc. These are all affectionate addresses and they go to show his love for his wife. Eight years is not a short duration, and after all of this time he talks to her in such ways as though they were newlyweds. Even the term ‘spendthrift’ is used affectionately, and he is more than proud to be able to fund his wife’s frivolous ways. He is forgiving of her when she hides the fact that Krogstad had made a visit. Torvald Helmer is kind to Nora, he is loving and patient with her.
Many critique this to say his behaviour is condescending, but I invite you, the reader, to view this scenario from a different angle. Is it not possible that this is his way of showing love? Is it not possible for sweet-talking to be a way to convey affection to one’s wife? Why do we dictate what is and is not an acceptable fashion of showing love?
The idea that Helmer does not truly love Nora, or is patronising her, comes from a place of policing how people show their affection. This notion is not any less corrupt than faulting Nora for forging her father’s signature in a quest to save her husband. Helmer treats Nora like a treasure. He loves her as is his duty as her husband, and that, in no way, is a symbol of ‘oppression’, as dubbed by critics.
Nora, on the other hand, lies to her husband who considers lying a moral sickness. She keeps a secret from him for eight long years. In other words, for eight years, she does something her husband despises. Who, then, is the oppressor, and who, the oppressed?
Neither. Neither party is absolutely evil, and neither party is absolutely good. In viewing every romantic relationship through the strict critical lens of this, that, and the other political or social narrative, we remove nuance from the picture. This is said not in an attempt to imply that beating and torturing one’s spouse can also be a means of showing affection, but to assert that Helmer’s love is not something to be liberated from and that not every expression of love which deviates from our modern stamp of approval is wrong.
Aside from his love, another side of Helmer’s that we see is his unwavering morality and the need to do the right thing. He is driven by his conscience and he considers morality important in other people, especially in the one who has vowed not to part with him till death does them apart. Is it unacceptable for him to feel angry in being lied to by his wife?
His rigid morality is seen in his determination in terminating Krogstad, and his compassion for those unknown to him is depicted in his speech.
He says, ‘Just think how a man with a thing of that sort on his conscience must be always lying and canting and shamming. Think of the mask he must wear even towards those who stand nearest him— towards his own wife and children. The effect on the children— that’s the most terrible part of it, Nora.’
If we were to incarcerate his character for his flaws, Nora might surely become the real villain of the story for abandoning her husband and three little children in pursuit of ‘finding herself’. We cheer her on in spite of her flaws, so it is only fair that we show the same grace to Torvald Helmer
He is a caring family man, somebody who sympathises with the pain of others; but these words are seldom used in reference to him. In mainstream criticism, his character is stripped of its merits, and is presented without any care for what he suffers through in the play.
He begs and pleads to have his wife back, but the cries of this ruined man aren’t highlighted. He says he has ‘strength to become another man’, but that isn’t talked about. He wants, at least, to help his wife financially, but that, too, is glossed over. His wife, his marriage, his family— he loses everything, but that is considered a non-issue.
In making a case in his favour, I am not casting him as the perfect role model. He has his flaws — there is no denial to that fact — particularly when he chooses to prioritise his honour over that of his own wife, or when he insults her deceased father in the heat of the moment. To assert a man’s ‘true nature’ to be what he does when losing everything dear to him is to wrongfully strip him of every virtue he possesses. If we were to incarcerate his character for his flaws, Nora might surely become the real villain of the story for abandoning her husband and three little children in pursuit of ‘finding herself’. We cheer her on in spite of her flaws, so it is only fair that we show the same grace to Torvald Helmer.
* Zuena Zobayed is a high school student who enjoys both reading and writing stories. When not immersed in either, she crafts English haiku.