Read Arrested Development and Philosophy Online
Authors: J. Jeremy Wisnewski William Irwin Kristopher G. Phillips,J. Jeremy Wisnewski
So what does this mean for Gob? Do his mistakes still make him a bad person by Hume’s estimation? Not necessarily. Remember, morality isn’t a matter of being rational, so making unreasonable or inadvisable choices isn’t automatically morally wrong. In fact, Gob’s mistakes have the potential to make him
more
morally mature. One difference between ideas and impressions is that, while reason and ideas can be taught in a classroom, impressions like emotions and morality can be refined only through experience. Sure, you can learn the arguments for why murder is immoral, but you won’t really
feel
that it’s wrong unless you have some experience of the value of human life. So every mistake that Gob makes is really an experience that can help refine his moral sense. In the episode “Forget Me Now,” for example, we get a rare glimpse of Gob growing as a character when, after avoiding his son Steve Holt (!) throughout the episode, Gob is approached by Steve, who thinks he’s accidentally slept with his cousin.
Steve:
I’ve made a huge mistake.
Gob:
I know the feeling—I had you. [They embrace.] I’m your father, Steve Holt! I can’t hide from it anymore!
Steve:
I won’t forget this . . . Dad! [“Forget Me Now”]
This touching moment was only possible because Gob had experienced so many failed attempts to win his own father’s approval that when he saw that his son needed him, Gob finally grew into a more mature man, a true father figure for poor Steve Holt (!).
But does this mean that his constant mistakes make Gob a good person? Again, not necessarily. Mistakes are only valuable if we learn from them, if we use them to refine and mature our moral sense. In Gob’s case, one of the things fans know they can count on is that he will
never
learn from his mistakes. In fact, Gob seems to actively try to keep himself from developing any moral sense. After reconciling with his son in the scene just mentioned, Gob, realizing he’s becoming a more responsible human being, promptly decides to take one of the pills he carries for protecting the secrets of his magic tricks (illusions!).
Steve:
I won’t forget this . . .
Dad
! [He exits]
Gob:
I will . . . [He swallows a Flunitrazepam pill] I will.
Perhaps even David Hume can’t defend Gob’s actions. His stubborn refusal to learn from his mistakes means that Gob will never cultivate his dormant moral sense. In the end, Gob may very well deserve to be called a bad person. It isn’t because he makes mistakes, but rather, because of his arrested moral development. On the other hand, it’s that very quality that makes him so much fun to watch.
“. . . She Keeps Saying That God Is Going to Show Me a Sign. The . . . Something of My Ways. Wisdom?”
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Whether one accepts Aristotle’s claims about reason and moral disposition, or Hume’s regarding impressions and moral sense, the bottom line seems to be that becoming a good person involves the practical application of some sort of knowledge. Two contemporary philosophers in particular—Alasdair MacIntyre and Joel Kupperman—have taken up this insight and carried the character-based moral tradition we have here explored into the twenty-first century.
In 1981, MacIntyre published a book that helped revive the study of character-based ethics in the English-speaking world, titled
After Virtue
. Exploring how the notion of virtue could survive the criticisms that many older theories (such as Aristotle’s and Hume’s) had received, he wrote,
When Aristotle speaks of excellence in human activity, he sometimes though not always, refers to some well-defined human practice: flute-playing, or war, or geometry. I am going to suggest that this notion of a particular type of practice . . . is crucial to the whole enterprise of identifying a core concept of the virtues.
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MacIntyre has a robust definition of practice: A practice is a complex, cooperative enterprise that is established socially and promotes human welfare by achieving particular goods toward which only it could aim (C’mon!). For instance, pulling a coin out of White Power Bill’s “dirty ear” isn’t a practice under MacIntyre’s view because it is a singular act whose end (which is presumably entertainment,
not
getting stabbed) could be attained by any number of other acts. Magic, on the other hand,
would
be considered a practice because it is an endeavor that requires cooperation among a community (such as The Magician’s Alliance) and requires a certain level of commitment both in order to become an initiate and to continue its traditions. Though we may deem folks like Tony Wonder and the other members of Gob’s former alliance ridiculous, their commitment to the
institution
of magic itself makes them, and not Gob, good magicians. They are “practitioners”; Gob isn’t.
Of course, no one needs the help of a philosopher to determine why Gob is a bad magician. What we are really concerned with is whether this says anything about his moral status. MacIntyre would say it does. He claims “character” is something like a “unity” in a human life that emerges when the various practices one is involved in, begin to cohere. Kupperman agrees and calls this type of human life an “integrated” one, and he sees this as being the source of someone’s moral integrity. In his words,
Sense of self is crucial to happiness, the degree of which, in turn, makes a major contribution to a good life. Beyond this, a sense of life as meaningful requires ongoing commitments or other forms of connection among the stages of life, which to be maintained in difficult situations call for a strong character.
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People who develop this kind of unity in their lives do so by distilling out what is common among the commitments they have toward individual practices. They give their life a unified meaning, and can tell a single “story” about themselves. This, according to MacIntyre and Kupperman, is where the definition of character resides—in one’s “story” (or “narrative”). When we are able to tell such a story, we gain insight into our lives. We are able to apply our knowledge both practically and liberally, and we call this insight and this ability “wisdom.”
Of course, the story that Gob would tell of himself doesn’t jibe with the narrative we’re all familiar with. Consider what happens when Michael confronts Gob about his indiscretions:
Michael:
Gob, instead of always coming to me looking for money, saying, “I’ve made a huge mistake,” you can bail yourself out next time.
Gob:
[Laughs nervously] I’ve never admitted to a mistake. What would I have made a mistake about? [“The One Where Michael Leaves”]
Because Gob refuses to truly own up to his mistakes, he is unable to find a unity in his life that could render it meaningful. Instead, he coasts aimlessly through life on his Segway, bouncing from one questionable pursuit to the next (stripping with the Hot Cops, performing with Franklin, pimping for Nellie), committing one “huge mistake” after another because he can’t commit to
any
practice at all. Gob’s life, like his magic, embodies all kinds of errors, even if he does recognize a mistake here and there (whether he’ll admit it or not). Sadly, Gob severs himself from wisdom as completely as a bloodthirsty seal severs a hand. Philosophy could help him, if he took it up, but there’s little chance of that—and this may be the hugest mistake of all.
NOTES
1.
Bk. VII Ch. 3, 1145b 27–33 [Our emphasis].
2.
Ibid. Bk. V Ch. 7, 1135b 17–19.
3.
“Amigos,” season 2, episode 3.
4.
“Key Decisions,” season 1, episode 4 (Gob had mistakenly revealed an illusion to the public in “The Pilot” and had subsequently been barred from the Alliance of Magicians, an organization he founded.)
5.
“Marta Complex,” season 1, episode 12.
6.
Aristotle, Bk. V, Ch. 5, 1134a 1–6.
7.
“Switch Hitter,” season 2, episode 7.
8.
David Hume,
A Treatise on Human Nature
(Barnes & Noble, 2005) p. 320.
9.
“Family Ties,” season 3, episode 11.
10.
Alasdair MacIntyre,
After Virtue.
2nd ed. (South Bend, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1984), p. 187.
11.
Joel.Kupperman,
Character
(Oxford University Press, 1995), p. 143.
Chapter 17
THE COMEDY OF CONTRADICTION
Erin Fay and Willie Young
The lives of the Bluths are full of hilarious, and often immoral, contradictions. Since the hilarity may be obvious, let’s turn to the philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) to shed light on the immoral part. Kant held that “If the intent of the action can without self-contradiction be universalized, it is morally possible; if it cannot be so universalized without contradicting itself, it is morally impossible.”
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He calls this the categorical imperative, and it means that lying, for instance, is unethical because it is self-contradictory. When Lucille lies, she wants others to believe her. But of course, if lying were made a universal law, then nobody would believe what anybody else said, and Lucille would lose much of her manipulative power. Thus, she must will for others to be truthful, while willing herself to lie. Because her will contradicts itself, lying is unethical.
Of course, “Liar” could be the middle name of each member of the Bluth family, who might also be pictured next to “self-contradiction” in the dictionary.
Arrested Development
is a comedy of moral contradiction that highlights the conflicts, tensions, and misunderstandings that permeate our attempts to be moral. Like George Michael, we all try to sift through the conflicting desires, messages, examples, and teachings to find a way to know what to do and who we should be. Watching the Bluths efforts go horribly wrong, pulling disaster from the jaws of success, we laugh at both them and ourselves.
Seemingly Deceptive: Lindsay’s Lies
Lindsay Bluth Fünke constantly hints that her husband is gay and encourages her daughter to . . . well, Lindsay doesn’t actually encourage Maeby to do much of anything. While it’s pretty clear that Lindsay doesn’t really get how to be moral, we might ask if she understands how to be consistent, and if so, what she
does
consistently.
With her ever-expanding wardrobe, one thing Lindsay does consistently is shop. Indeed, Lindsay is driven to desperation in her desire to shop. In “Not Without My Daughter,” Lindsay sought a job as a shopgirl to pay for her addiction, a depth to which she never thought she would sink. Yet when asked how she got the clothing purchased with her earnings, Lindsay claimed to have stolen them. She lied to her family to hide her legitimate employment.
So Lindsay takes a legal job in order to support her shopping, but tells her family that the clothes were obtained through illegal means. This doesn’t sound consistent; but does it make her
immoral
? Does lying make her actual work immoral? Kant believes that it does. He writes, “That action is immoral whose intent cancels and destroys itself when it is made a universal rule. It is moral, if the intent of the action is in harmony with itself when it is made a universal rule.”
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As Gob would say, “C’mon!” What does that mean? Well, Kant is saying that what matters in an action is the reason behind it. If the reason for an action could apply to everyone, then the action itself is moral. In taking the job, Lindsay acted for a reason: to make money for shopping. Since the society in which Lindsay lives is based on exchanging labor for money and money for goods, this action is, on its own, moral; after all, everybody could consistently work in exchange for money and goods. What about her second action, though? What about lying to her family? Why would Lindsay act immorally by lying about an ethical action?
Basically, Lindsay lied because of the embarrassment that she felt about working (a real job). Lindsay’s philanthropic “work” provides a clue to her embarrassment at working. She constantly strives to
appear
to be a philanthropist. She runs benefits and stages protests for causes that she doesn’t truly understand, and that often contradict one another (who could forget this triad: “No More Meat!”, “No More Fish!”, “More Meat and Fish!”). And her support for Hands Off Our Penises (H.O.O.P.) caused repercussive lawsuits. But for Lindsay, the cause doesn’t matter so much as
her
involvement in the cause. She wants to be perceived as a well-to-do woman who spends her time on charities and protests.
Kant writes, “A wealthy man is highly esteemed by his fellows because of his wealth; a needy man is less respected because of his strained circumstances.”
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For the Bluths, stealing is better than an honest day’s work—after all, it’s “built into the price.” If she didn’t steal, then “people would be overpaying for no reason.” So Lindsay wishes to hide the need for employment while seeming to afford the clothing that’s part of her wealthy lifestyle. Lindsay lies about working to maintain her own self-image and pride. She would rather spread an immoral untruth than lose social status by doing the right thing and telling the truth.
Lindsay is, if anything, consistently inconsistent. There’s a line that Lindsay isn’t willing to cross, even if she lies to her family about her actions. Although Lindsay wants her family to believe that she’s stolen the clothing, she never actually steals.
Does this make Lindsay’s actions moral, even as she constantly lies? Lindsay works hard to appear immoral to her family, even as she tries to be seen as a philanthropist to the public. She doesn’t steal even as she claims to have stolen and doesn’t cheat on Tobias while claiming that she, at some point, will. In the episode “Shock and Aww,” Lindsay has a heart-to-heart with George Michael in which she shows that she actually cares for the boy. While she is a lousy mother to Maeby, Lindsay wants to appear to be a good mother for George Michael. The inconsistency of her actions shows Lindsay to be deeply conflicted and contradictory, wanting to fit in both with society and with her family. As both Michael and George Michael say, family is the most important thing (except when it’s breakfast). Perhaps it’s only by appearing immoral that Lindsay can feel like a true Bluth (which, since she’s adopted, is harder than she thinks).
A Jealous Gob
If we wanted to figure out why the Bluths are such a mass of moral confusion, jealousy would be a good place to start. Jealousy courses through the Bluths like vodka through Lucille’s veins. Michael and Gob have been forced to compete for George Sr.’s affection in every way from
Boyfights
to running the business. The jealousy of the family results from Lucille’s and George Sr.’s manipulation of their children, putting them at odds with one another so as to assuage their own insecurities or failures. Lucille is jealous of Lucille 2, afraid that the latter will take the business or her children’s affection (which, frankly, wouldn’t be that hard). Even as an adult—sort of—Buster’s still jealous of his adopted kid brother, Annyong.
Kant’s discussion of jealousy ties in closely with his emphasis on the abstract character of the moral law, and it epitomizes the danger of basing morality on experience. On Kant’s view, jealously grows from parents’ attempts to teach their children to be good by comparing them to other children. Comparing children to other children fails to teach them the moral law; children are just taught to be better than each other. Moreover, since everyone can’t be better than everyone else, a jealous rivalry requires a loser. Ultimately, jealously may lead to envy and grudges, which can be even more destructive. When we’re compared to someone else and come up short, we have two options: try to become like them, or try to bring them down to our level. As Kant says, “It is easier to depreciate another than to emulate him, and men prefer the easier course.”
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Thus, the intent to make one’s children good may ultimately backfire, turning the kids into Gob.
Gob epitomizes the problems with jealousy. He’s constantly competing with his siblings, especially Michael, trying to prove his superiority. Gob tries to seduce Michael’s girlfriends, but always misses the mark. Where Michael dates Ms. Baerly in “Shock and Aww,” Gob gives new meaning to “having” the civics teacher, Mrs. Whitehead. He even tries to have a “holy trinity” with Bland, I mean . . . Ann. When he runs the company (into the ground), he constantly draws attention to the cost of his suits as a way to put others down (C’mon!). He tries to shoplift clothes from Lindsay’s store (where she says she’s shoplifting) just to show he’s the “real magician” of the family. He is, of course, busted by a thirteen-year old on Take-Your-Daughter-to-Work Day. Gob’s jealousy, though dangerous, is ultimately only a danger to himself—a “burning bush” of envy that consumes him without harming others.
Think of the Children
When no one’s looking, who’s always there to deceive? To act her way into the spotlight? Maeby Fünke, the daughter of Lindsay and Tobias, constantly works to get noticed. In “Justice Is Blind,” Maeby creates the alter-ego Shirley, an alleged cousin who suffers from B.S., a disease that has made the poor, imaginary schoolgirl wheelchair-bound. Maeby also fakes her way into a career as a high-powered movie executive, where people complete her homework and fetch her coffee. Maeby works tirelessly to create strife and gain attention within her family. When her mother flirts with Steve Holt (!), Maeby gives Lindsay a shirt that says
Shémale
, making Lindsay unwittingly announce that she’s transgendered (a “fact” that Maeby has already told Steve). In the pilot, Maeby tries to get attention by making out with her cousin, George Michael. When this fails, Maeby gives it up as a bad idea and moves on to other schemes.
In short, Maeby is all about deceptive behavior. She tries to manipulate those around her by making her actions seem innocent and pretending to be something she’s not (“Marry me!”). The only person who is on to her schemes is George Michael, who developed a crush on Maeby after they kissed. When told not to do something, she’s the first to do it. In the episode “Best Man for the Gob,” Maeby rejoins Dr. Fünke’s 100% Natural Good-Time Family Band Solution after she realizes that her mother doesn’t want to join. Like her mother, Lindsay, Maeby craves attention and is willing to manipulate others to get it. Unlike her mother, she tries to appear ethical while being immoral. She tries to set herself apart from the Bluths so as to gain attention—but her actions reveal she’s much more part of the family than she thinks.
“I’m Not Sure if My Ethics Teacher Would Love It if I Cheated on My Essay”
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With George Michael, things become more complicated. Like his father, he wants to do the right thing. Being ethical matters to him—yet somehow, he always gets caught up in others’ plots and schemes. One factor is clearly his desire to be part of the family and to be accepted. So how does a character who seeks to be ethical become such a gullible sap?
One criticism of Kant’s ethics has been the abstraction of the moral law. The necessity of the categorical imperative is tied to its formal character. An act is ethical if it’s what could be a rule for everyone else—regardless of what that action actually is. Because it is free of content, the categorical imperative is easily distorted; rather than doing what we think everyone
should
do, we might think we should do what everyone else
is
doing. Since George Michael grows up in a house of lies and deception, he feels incapable of being truthful and honest. He can’t tell Michael the truth about his feelings for Maeby. The moral law slips into a form of conformism and groupthink.
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While George Michael tries to do the right thing, he often takes his cues from those around him.
Going Both Ways
Arrested Development
is hilarious in its characters’ unconscious use of double entendre. Lines are written and delivered to perfectly capture the contradiction between what the characters intend and what they actually do. These scenes are especially funny because the characters’ intentions are good—but these good intentions are crushed by complete lack of self-awareness. Because it’s unexpected, double entendre often makes the show more fun than a ship full of hot seamen. Michael names his son after himself and his father—only to end up with George Michael. While trying to be a good uncle, he naively sings “Afternoon Delight” with Maeby. Tobias is proud to become the world’s first “analrapist,” a unique combination of an analyst and a therapist. When George Michael has a crush on his ethics teacher, Lindsay thinks he needs a mother figure and offers to “fill that role” for him at any time. It’s like watching Sally Field morph into Mrs. Robinson before your eyes. The Bluth stair car is hurtling toward hell, down the road paved with good intentions.
For Kant, moral action is all about intent: Acting on reason, out of respect for the moral law, is the only basis for ethical action. As Kant writes, “Duty is the necessity of an action executed from respect for law.”
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Actions that spring from desire or feeling have no moral worth, even if they’re permissible. It might be good for Tobias to be a “leather daddy,” so he can get close to Maeby, but if that’s his motivation, that’s not truly ethical. Morality requires submission to the categorical imperative. Our desires must be constrained, bound and chained so as to obey the commands of the moral law. We stand, for Kant, “under a
discipline
of reason,”
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and it’s when we find ourselves handcuffed, kneeling at the feet of the moral law, knowing that we deserve to be punished because we have been very, very bad—
that’s
when we’re moral, and discover our true humanity. Tobias, stop licking the moral law’s boots, you horse’s ass!
In its own unique way
Arrested Development
asks us some critical questions about Kant’s approach. Is ethics really all about intention? When Michael tries to do the right thing by offering the housekeeper a ride, but terrorizes a random woman who thinks he’s going to kill her, is he really acting ethically? When Lindsay takes up a philanthropic cause, but wants to dry the wetlands, are good intentions really enough? Or is some attention to what one actually does necessary?
Beyond the Never-Nude: Nietzsche’s Man of the Future
More and more it seems to me that the philosopher, being of necessity a man of tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, has always found himself, and
had
to find himself, in contradiction to his today: his enemy was ever the ideal of today.
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