Arrested Development and Philosophy (18 page)

In addition to securing things we need, governments may be in a better position to discharge moral duties that would otherwise depend on personal contributions. If the many unworthy causes Lindsay stumps for are any indication, private efforts to meet moral duties sometimes fall short. After all, people would rather donate to the imaginary disease T.B.A. than the very real Graft-Versus-Host which is affecting Tobias. Governments potentially do better in both identifying the real problem areas—things other than T.B.A.—and channeling resources to the real problems.

In addition to channeling resources, governments can secure rights better than individuals. We probably have a duty to ensure that people aren’t discriminated against in the workplace. While individuals can exert some social pressure to prevent discrimination, the U.S. government can impose stiff penalties, enough to “redo a kitchen,” in the process safeguarding the workplace for homosexuals against the antics of people like Barry Zuckerkorn. In order for the government to provide these services, however, it needs to have the power to keep us in line.

So, on the instrumental approach, the basis of our political obligations centers on the fact that government or political institutions are the most efficient means for securing public goods, like national defense, or meeting our moral duties, like charity or securing basic rights. What’s bad about treason is that it attempts to undermine or subvert this efficient mechanism. This approach to obligation, however, doesn’t provide a strong basis for criticizing many actions that fall under our understanding of passive-aggressive treason. While building model homes in Iraq may aid the enemy, it doesn’t seem to provide any direct support for Saddam in a way that undermines or threatens the ability of the United States to secure public goods or meet moral duties. On the instrumental account, George Sr. violates the legal definition of treason, but he does so in a way that isn’t particularly problematic. That is, he aids the enemy in a way that doesn’t undermine the basic projects that generate our duties or obligations to our government and fellow citizens.

As George Sr.’s case brings out, if the basis of our special obligation to our country and compatriots follows from the fact that our government can serve as an efficient means to our moral ends, then most acts that meet the legal definition of treason may not be as bad as non-treasonous crimes. Whether buying Gob a yacht with company money or lining the walls of the banana stand with cash, the Bluth Company consistently keeps money off the books and tries to hide it from the government. Unlike building the mini-palaces in Iraq, withholding money owed to the government directly impacts the government’s ability to secure public goods or safeguard rights. By withholding taxes, the Bluth Company fails to contribute to the country’s collective projects. Without money, the government can’t work to secure our borders or secure the rights of minorities in the workplace. These ends, which make government worthwhile and provide the basis for our political obligation, require contributions to the government. On the instrumental account, hiding that money in the banana stand (much less burning it) seems worse than committing passive-aggressive treason by building mini-palaces in Iraq.

The Relational Approach

The second approach to political obligation explains why Americans have a unique obligation to fellow Americans in terms of the nature of the special relationship we have with one another. The relational approach extends the idea of family obligations to the community of the state. Rather than look at the kinds of things the government can do (like the instrumental approach), the relational approach locates the basis of our obligations to fellow citizens in the nature of our relationships with one another.

Think about why there are things that you should do for your friends that you don’t have to do for other people. Friends help each other out. Friends have a shared past. Friendship is a bond where each person is willing to say, “It really matters to me how well my friends are doing.” Proponents of the relational approach think of our duties to our fellow citizens like this. Our duties toward one another depend on our shared history, culture, and the special bond that makes you want to see the USA win at the Olympics. Similar to Michael’s “Family First” motto (and also very different from breakfast being the most important thing), our relationship to other Americans is kind of like our relationship to family. We didn’t choose it, but we went to the same kind of schools, grew up in the same kind of neighborhoods, and these kinds of things create the bond of civil society. What’s wrong with treason on this account has less to do with my relationship to the state and more to do with committing acts that hurt my political community. Aggressive treason is like stabbing your friend in the back (perhaps literally) and passive-aggressive treason is like breaking a promise to your friend by hanging out with someone who doesn’t want you to be friends.

The relational approach better captures part of what’s wrong with
treason
. Again, what distinguishes treason from other crimes is its reflexive nature: It harms the traitor’s homeland. If the basis of our duties to our fellow citizens depends on our common bonds, we should blame those actions that threaten or go against that bond. Part of what’s wrong with treason is the message expressed by the action. Think about when Michael ran the father/son triathlon at the Church and State Fair with his (possible) nephew Steve Holt (!). Michael’s actions betrayed his son and brother, damaging the bonds that tie family together. He denied his son the chance to run the course with him, which made George Michael feel like less of a man. It also undermined Gob’s chances to bond with his (possible) son. That’s what made his actions wrong, even if everything worked out in the end.

As fellow citizens, we’re in this thing together; supporting an enemy, even if the country ends up okay, expressly rejects the spirit of communal endeavor. George Sr., by trading with Iraq in the first place and subsequently trying to cover it up, performed actions that undermined the spirit of community that makes legitimate government possible. This is what makes George Sr.’s doing business with Saddam’s rogue regime a huge mistake and blameworthy in the eyes of not only the law, but also the community.

“I’ve Made a Huge Mistake”

So, George Sr. committed light passive-aggressive treason. He violated laws by trading with Saddam and giving aid and comfort to an enemy of the United States. What should we make of it? On one hand, if our allegiance to a government depends on how well it helps us secure public goods or discharge moral obligations, then George’s passive-aggressive treason doesn’t seem so bad. Many of his other illegal activities do more to undermine the efficient running of the government. On the other hand, if our duties are based on the bonds of fellowship shared by citizens of a state, the intent and deception involved in building the mini-palaces serve as a much bigger insult. He broke the laws of
his
country siding with someone hostile to
his
nation. Even if his action did not lead to a direct threat against the United States, we should blame George Sr. for willfully flouting the community of which he’s a part. If you’re going to break somebody’s heart, at least be honest about it.

NOTE

1.
Sorry, we meant illusions.

Chapter 16

“I’VE MADE A HUGE MISTAKE”

George Oscar Bluth Jr. and the Role of Error in Character Development

Christopher C. Kirby, Jonathan Hillard, and Matthew Holmes

And since it is rare for a man to be divine . . . in the same way a brutish person is also rare among human beings . . . but some cases [of the latter] occur that are due to disease or
arrested development
.

—Aristotle (384–322 bce)
Nicomachean Ethics
1

Everyone knows the Bluth family is full of eccentric characters, each notable for his or her peculiarities and foibles, and all suffering from some form of arrested development. Standing out among this motley crew of misfits is George Oscar Bluth Jr. (or Gob, as the family calls him), who is perhaps the most morally ambiguous character of the series. Whether the context is one of his numerous and quite public career failures, a romantic indiscretion, or a botched attempt to show up his brother Michael, the one line that we have come to expect most from Gob is “I’ve made a huge mistake.”

While nearly everyone in the family utters the words, Gob has made them his catchphrase. Whereas other characters tend to learn from their mistakes, Gob never does. Gob is thus an interesting case study in the role of error in the development of “moral character.” Someone who fails to do what is right in a
particular
situation might not be held morally blameworthy by others if that action seems out of the ordinary (or, “out of character”) for that individual, or if he or she appears to learn a lesson from the experience (or, “builds character”). But, what about Gob, who never seems to learn his lesson? Aristotle (384–322 bce), the grandfather of character-based ethics, offers us only a little help when he writes, “When the injury takes place contrary to reasonable expectation, it is a misadventure. When it isn’t contrary to reasonable expectation but does not imply vice, it is a mistake.”
2
While any reasonable person could likely predict the injuries caused by Gob’s assorted goofs and gaffes, how do we determine whether these actions imply vice or simply exhibit “mistakes?” A closer look at some of the major contributors to this character-based moral philosophy may help us answer this question and reveal both the comedic and philosophical value of Gob’s character.

“And I’m Not Afraid to Make Mistakes. Or Have You Forgotten to Read This . . .”
3

Let’s consider one of Gob’s first notable foul-ups (is it correct that this is Gob’s FIRST notable foul-up?) (from “Key Decisions”) in light of Aristotle’s thoughts on character. Trying to further his career as a professional magician, Gob proudly announces during Marta’s interview for
Acceso Mexico
that he plans to stage an escape from the prison where his father is held.
4
This single act isn’t enough for Aristotle to claim that Gob lacks
arête
, or moral excellence (despite it being so inconsiderate to Marta). Many moral philosophies look to the intentions or to the consequences of a particular act as the litmus test for determining moral worth.

Aristotle, on the other hand, believed that intentions and consequences were only relevant for determining someone’s
hexis,
or moral “disposition.” According to Aristotle’s formula, one should aim to fine-tune one’s moral disposition through a rational activity of avoiding extremes because cultivating this kind of disposition could lead to human flourishing, what he called
eudaimonia
(often translated as “happiness”).

Thus, only by examining a series of actions can we make an Aristotelian judgment of Gob’s moral character. His actions and intentions are only important insofar as they apply to his moral disposition. According to Aristotle, any virtuous trait, such as courage, rests between two extremes—in the case of courage, these would be foolhardiness (an excess of courage) and cowardice (a deficiency). The evidence suggests that Gob has strayed very far from the path of flourishing. Once in jail, Gob’s scheme requires passing a key through his digestive system (quite an impressive trick, considering we are never told how Gob got his hands on a key that presumably can break him out of his cell in the first place, though it was fun watching him attempt to swallow the key). Instead, he discovers he didn’t account for some of the realities of prison life:

Gob:
Is there a private bathroom nearby?

George:
You’re looking at it.

Gob:
No, no, no. I can’t use that. I need privacy. Yeah, I’ve always been that way. I can’t go without privacy. I can’t pass this key without privacy.

George:
Well, I could ask the guys to leave, but, uh . . . you know, they’ve been locking the doors lately. I don’t know.

Gob:
I’ve made a huge mistake. [“Key Decisions”]

Of course at this point we may say: “Only now that you can’t use a private bathroom do you realize that you made a mistake?! What about recognition of the injustice performed against Marta, or against Michael by making him an accomplice to this exploit by taking her to the “Daytime Desi” award show?!” But, Aristotle makes an important distinction between an active wrong and a wrong committed unintentionally.

Those we might label “unjust,” Aristotle tells us, must have some grasp of the injustices they have committed, and Gob clearly lacks this. However, we see Gob utter his line again later, after proudly telling Marta that he wants to stay with her and that they will be together for a long time. She leaves, and he immediately admits the error. In this instance, it seems, he
has
knowingly deceived her. His boastful nature has once again landed him in the position of admitting a “huge mistake.” He can’t seem to find the Aristotelean mean of “truthfulness” and “proper pride” between these two extremes.

In the next episode, called “Marta Complex,” we witness a hilarious love triangle (or perhaps a love rhombus, if you include Buster’s crush) escalate after Michael makes a toast to the family.
5
Michael embeds a proclamation of love to Marta within this speech. She is moved and realizes
she
has made a huge mistake, for it is actually Michael she loves. Gob unwittingly reports this to Michael the next day:

Gob:
Michael.

Michael:
Hey.

Gob:
Great speech last night.

Michael:
Really? What did it inspire you to do, kill somebody?

Gob:
Getting there. Marta’s cheating on me.

Michael:
What?

Gob:
Yeah. Can you believe that?

Michael:
That’s crazy, Gob She’s not a cheater. If she were to cheat, I’d like to think she’d cheat . . . you’re the cheater.

Gob:
That’s how I know all the signs. Last night she was all distant and weird. Wouldn’t let me make love to her on Mom’s bed. I don’t even want to tell you what she wouldn’t let me do to her in the car. And then today, I overhear her talking on the phone about somebody, all super silently, all in Spanish.

Narrator:
In fact, Marta was on the phone with her mother talking about Michael.

Marta:
No es el
Gob
el que yo quiero. Es el hermano
.

(Computer beeping.)

Marta:
Hermano
. (Subtitle: The brother)

Gob:
And she kept using this guy’s name like, “Hermano.”

Michael:
Let me tell you something, Gob. We’re going to track this Hermano down, okay? And we’re going to nail him. Because if anyone’s going to go out with that girl, it’s going to be one of us.

Gob:
Right. Me.

Michael:
And I’m okay with that. [“Marta Complex”]

Gob is livid. Yet, this makes little sense, considering that he’s been unfaithful all along with various women, including “Legs,” the bottom half of the woman from the “saw-a-lady-in-half illusion” in the episode “Storming the Castle.” These actions, in connection with the many other vices that Gob demonstrates, would be enough for Aristotle to deem him wicked, not because of any particular act, but due to Gob’s failure to use his rational faculties toward flourishing. He does not have the disposition to embody the excellence of character that Aristotle called justice, which he described as

that in virtue of which the just man is said to be a doer, by choice, of that which is just, and one who will distribute either between himself and another or between two others not so as to give more of what is desirable to himself and less to his neighbor, but so as to give what is equal in accordance with proportion; and similarly in distributing between two other persons.”
6

Gob’s inability to balance his responsibility for the wrongs he has committed and his desire to seek revenge against those who have wronged him (for example, his obsession with finding “Hermano”) are precisely what make him unjust. Aristotle may not find Gob to be a morally praiseworthy individual, but we can appreciate his character for both comedic and philosophical reasons. His “huge mistakes” are often times incredibly hilarious. They also set good examples for the kinds of behaviors that we should avoid if we wish to cultivate our own excellence, our own
arête
.

“Nobody Makes a Fool out of Our Family without My Help.”
7

While Gob is one of the most endearing characters on
Arrested Development
, the terms of his endearment are those of the fool. It’s
because
he’s a buffoon that Gob is such a great character—some of the funniest parts of the show are those moments of realization when Gob utters his famous catchphrase, “I’ve made a huge mistake.” We love these moments, frankly, because, we don’t have to deal with them. We just get to watch as the high jinx and hilarity ensue, knowing all the while that everything will be fine at the end of the half hour (for us, anyway).

In the real world, we’re far less forgiving of people like Gob. We’re usually willing to look past understandable mistakes, but we tend to blame others when their actions are obviously unwise. We feel that they should’ve known what would happen when they acted. Of course, when Gob makes a mistake, it’s always incredibly obvious (For instance, everyone knows he should never have given up animation rights to Mr. Bananagrabber
®
). No matter how much we may like Gob as a character, the truth is that if we had to deal with him in real life, we would think he was a jerk (because, well, he
is
).

Since Gob doesn’t fare well with Aristotle, let’s consider another philosopher who might come to Gob’s defense. David Hume (1711–1776) was a very influential thinker in the field of epistemology (the study of knowledge and how people know). According to Hume, people have two kinds of thoughts: impressions and ideas. Impressions are the things that we experience—sights, sounds, tastes and smells, as well as feelings and emotions. Ideas are the things we think about—they are the rational concepts we use to make sense of our experiences, like the idea of a circle, or the principle of addition, or even the concept of justice. But where does morality fit? Well, when we blame people for making obvious mistakes, we’re putting morality in the category of rational ideas. We’re saying that being moral is a matter of being rational, and so by acting in a way that is clearly unreasonable, a person is acting immorally. Gob should know better, and that’s why we consider him a jerk.

But Hume would disagree with this line of thinking. In his first book,
A Treatise on Human Nature
, Hume points out that being immoral and being irrational are two totally different things. Most of us have at some point discovered that reason can justify some very immoral actions. Hume makes this point in a famous line from the
Treatise
, “’Tis not contrary to reason to prefer the destruction of the whole world to the scratching of my finger.”
8
If we were to find out that Gob would rather see the whole world fall apart than have two of his fingers cut off by Buster during a magic trick (illusion . . .
master
) in “Sword of Destiny” and subsequently reattached incorrectly by an incompetent doctor, we could call him selfish and immoral, but not irrational. Hume points out that as long as the conclusion doesn’t involve a misunderstanding or miscalculation, it is perfectly rational—no matter how reprehensible it might be. And if it’s possible to be rational and immoral at the same time, then morality can’t be based on rationality.

But if morality isn’t based on rationality, what’s it based on? Hume believed that impressions provide the answer. We experience morality more like a feeling than an idea. For example, when we see the attack ad that Gob made for George Michael’s campaign for student president in “The Immaculate Election,” we don’t have to reason out whether or not the ad is bad. As soon as Gob’s voice-over points out that the frontrunner, Steve Holt (!), “doesn’t even know who his father is” (it’s Gob), we immediately get the feeling that he has crossed the line. According to Hume, we get that feeling from our “moral sense,” the part of our personality that generates the feeling that something is good or bad. This moral sense isn’t rational. It reacts before we get a chance to think about the situation. Consider how you would immediately pull your hand away from the flesh-searing Cornballer, only thinking about your reaction after it had occurred. Our moral sense works in the same immediate way. It’s part of how we perceive a situation. It isn’t the result
of
seeing a situation and then reflecting on it.

This, however, doesn’t mean the moral sense is irrational—at least, not in the sense that it violates reason. The moral sense is like anger. We can feel angry about the Cornballer without any reasoning whatsoever, so anger isn’t based on reason. But it isn’t
irrational
either (that Cornballer shouldn’t be on the market at all!). It’s perfectly reasonable to be angry with the Bluths for making that stupid device. In both anger and morality, the feeling we have is
nonrational
—it might be influenced by reason, but isn’t dependent on it.