Arrested Development and Philosophy_ They've Made a Huge Mistake - Kristopher G. Phillips [3]
Of course, frozen bananas dipped in chocolate deserve the most thanks of all. When things get rough, after all, there’s always money in the Banana Stand.
INTRODUCTION
Kristopher Phillips
This is the story of a wealthy family who lost everything (including their show) and the group of philosophers who had no choice but to write a book about it.
Well, it’s a matter of philosophical debate whether or not we really had a choice in the matter (or ever), but one thing is for sure—we really wanted to.
The reasons for wanting to write on the philosophical underpinnings in Arrested Development are probably as diverse as the characters in the show—I, for one, had many different reasons, including (and certainly not limited to) an intense desire to watch and rewatch the entire series with friends and professors. As I watched, and rewatched, I found myself wondering whether the Bluths really are as unrelatable as they think they are (at least in the third season).
As I watched Buster, the youngest of the Bluth boys and the self-proclaimed “scholar” of the family, it occurred to me that perhaps the show ended prematurely not because the family is weird and difficult to relate to, but rather because each character might be seen to exhibit the traits that we are afraid (“fear turns to anger . . . so frightened inmate number 2 isn’t frightened at all, he’s a crabby old coot!”) that we exhibit in the various roles we fill. For example, I often fear that Buster represents academics in general (or at least perpetual graduate students), especially those of us that tend to study the more esoteric—heady—topics. Buster is someone who is “moderately intelligent” and uses his family’s considerable assets to pursue academic avenues that—well, let’s face it—really don’t offer much by way of preparation for the real world; didn’t everything get mapped out by Magellan, or NASA? Buster’s life embodies the spirit of the question most often asked to students of philosophy: “What are you going to do with that?”
And Buster is not alone in representing what academics might fear about themselves; just take a look at Tobias. Qua (in the role of) academic, Tobias has an impressive resume: He “was chief resident of psychiatry at Mass General for two years and did [his] fellowship in psycholinguistics at MIT.” Not too shabby. Not to mention the fact that he was both a practicing therapist and a practicing analyst—a professional twice over . . . but the business cards almost got him arrested, and with good reason! Tobias engenders the old archetype of the academic who is so well educated that he just doesn’t really know how to be a real person; he lacks common sense entirely, which might explain the “analrapist” business cards, and the administering of CPR to a sleeping (but healthy) tourist. The traits he embodies, when we look at him as an academic, make him an exaggeration of those fears that academics may have—the total loss of ability to relate to anyone else, complete failure to function in the world, and so on, and all for the cost of an impressive academic resume.
While it’s not always obvious how some academic pursuits prepare their scholars for the real world, surprising and extenuating circumstances do pop up.1 I am optimistic that even if the principles of seventeenth century agrarian business don’t quite apply to the housing development business today (we’re not too concerned about any uprisings . . . are we?), by the end of this book, the philosophers who contributed to it will have convinced you that the principles of seventeenth-century philosophy (and those that are “much, much . . . MUCH older”) really do apply to everyday life in the O.C. (don’t call it that)—as well as to life in general. Besides being relevant to everyday life,