Futurama and Philosophy Read online

  Likewise, Amy and Bender may decide to enter into a consensual robosexual relationship, but the larger democratic community may seek to prevent that union (“Proposition Infinity,” Season Six). It doesn’t take too much imagination to see the connections to contemporary debates about gun control and homosexual rights to begin to see that there are tensions between individual liberty and popular sovereignty. So, it’s perfectly consistent within a free society for someone like Old Man Waterfall to seek the personal freedom to enter into a polygamist marriage that involves homosexual couplings and Satanism, while the community he lives in expresses deep dislike of his actions and attempts to ban those activities.

  That’s Why I Love Earth! No One Makes You Feel Guilty because No One Cares

  In those moments when liberty and democracy are in conflict, which must be allowed to prevail? Should the individual’s freedom to act without external constraint override the will of the majority community? Or should the majority be able to suppress or regulate those actions that it finds to be offensive, distasteful, or maybe even harmful?

  For British philosopher John Stuart Mill, the answer is easy: One’s freedom of expression ought to be protected regardless of how unpopular the sentiment. In one of his most celebrated works, On Liberty, Mill contends that

  if all mankind minus one were of one opinion, and only one person were of the contrary opinion, mankind would be no more justified in silencing that one person, than he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing mankind.

  Mill’s argument is based on the assumption that at no point in time can we ever be sure that the opinion behind the expression being suppressed, even if it runs counter to beliefs that are popularly shared and deeply held, is false. To the contrary, many unpopular beliefs, like the Earth revolving around the Sun rather than the Earth being the center of the Universe, have over time actually helped propel society to a deeper understanding of the truth. Human beings are flawed and imperfect creatures, which can lead to erroneous assumptions and inaccurate worldviews. Only by allowing freedom of expression can contrary perspectives emerge to challenge dominant paradigms and yield the possibility for correcting mistaken beliefs.

  But surely there are some truths that we can assume even in the absence of free discussion and open deliberation, right? The Professor doesn’t need an open discussion to take place to know that the sky is blue, or that hydrogen and oxygen combine to make water; just as Bender doesn’t need free-flowing debate to know that he is, in fact, great. Mill accounts for such instances in his argument by explaining that while we may not require public discussion on certain beliefs prior to accepting their truth, the fact that such beliefs would stand up to such deliberation and argument is why we can continue to rationally hold such beliefs.

  And so, good news everyone, Farnsworth can go on rationally believing that hydrogen and oxygen combine to create water even if there are no contrary opinions being expressed in a public deliberation. Even if such a contrary position were expressed, there’s evidence to expose the falseness of such claim. His belief, which is also popularly understood to be the truth, is rational because of the possibility of discussing it.

  The need for free expression as a method of determining the truth doesn’t mean that Mill defends an absolute license for individuals when it comes to freedom of action. To the contrary, even Mill agrees there ought to be limits to speech and behavior. His limits take the form of what’s commonly referred to as “the harm principle,” which means that the only reason a political community could justly deprive an individual of their personal right to free expression would be in those rare cases in which that expression leads to the direct harm of another. Though there’s some debate over what Mill understood to be actual harm, there’s consensus around the idea of the harm coming in the form of violating the rights of another. Thus, regulations on speech that take the form of libel and slander are allowed because such speech damages the reputation, standing, wealth, or safety of another person.

  Two, Four, Six, Eight, Eating the Flag Is Bad

  Mill’s harm principle sets an incredibly high threshold in favor of free speech, against suppression. This is because it’s extremely difficult to demonstrate “great enough” harm resulting from mere words (or public expression) to justify suppressing free speech. In fact, the bar is set so high that individuals, like American political and legal philosopher Joel Feinberg, feel the harm principle goes too far in promoting individual rights above the will of the democratic community.

  Just because alternative opinions may challenge us to discover the truth about our beliefs, does that give Zoidberg the right to eat Old Freebie and anger the gathered throng of Freedom Day spectators? Are there not limits to what a democratic society should be forced to tolerate when faced with offensive or distasteful forms of expression? In response to such questions, Feinberg offers a defense of what is instead known as the “offense principle,” which asserts that some expressions are so distasteful and offensive that they ought to be restricted, even if they don’t actually harm someone else. In such cases, Feinberg defends the right of the state to restrict offensive or distasteful expression in order to guard against offending the larger community.

  The case of Earth v. Zoidberg, reveals the complexity and difficulty of these two arguments. For example, how does one demonstrate the “truth” of patriotism (besides swelling with patriotic mucus)? Why does Zoidberg’s freedom of expression outweigh the right of the assembled crowd to not be offended? Feinberg would likely argue that the deeply held convictions of the political community actually do deserve respect and recognition. Because of that recognition, the state has the right to censor Zoidberg’s expression and not recognize his right to desecrate the flag by eating it.

  However, it’s in regards to Zoidberg’s kind of emotional and ideological case that Mill stresses the importance of maintaining a liberal approach to freedom of speech. Mill argues that holding on to dogmatic beliefs despite all evidence to the contrary is neither noble nor commendable. We ought to be willing to have those deeply held convictions and perspectives challenged because that’s the only way to determine whether we truly hold those beliefs, or if we’re merely indoctrinated or manipulated into viewing the world in a particular way. Freedom of discussion and deliberation helps to sort through a multiplicity of perspectives, thereby allowing us as individuals to choose those identity principles that define us on the basis of their truth and ability to stand up to reason and competition.

  The way Mill sees it, it’s the difference between knowing the truth and holding “true opinions.” Without allowing for challenges to even our most fundamental principles of identity, we don’t have a true understanding and knowledge but instead possess opinions that—even if true—are akin to prejudice and opinion. Therefore, a political community must be willing to allow even the most distasteful forms of expression, so long as it doesn’t harm another person, so as to advance the principles of truth and rational belief.

  Chewin’ the Corners Off the Constitution

  Zoidberg’s actions, and the episode itself, are in many ways a recasting of the underlying events and arguments that surrounded the landmark US Supreme Court Case of Texas v. Johnson (1989), which involved judgment on the actions of Gregory Lee Johnson who burned an American flag outside the 1984 Republican National Convention in Dallas, Texas. Unlike Zoidberg, who ate the flag in order to express his sincere patriotism and love of the freedoms of Earth, Johnson engaged in his actions as a form of political protest against the Reagan administration and what he perceived to be the ills of the United States government.

  Even though no one was injured, several bystanders who witnessed Johnson’s protest were offended by the burning of such a valued symbol of American identity. Johnson was arrested, sentenced to one year in prison, and fined $2,000 for violating a Texas law that guarded against desecration of venerated objects.

  The question is, do the fictional actions of John Zoidberg, or the actual his
torical actions of Gregory Johnson, constitute a form of “speech”? Although Zoidberg claimed that the eating of Old Freebie was him engaging in a form of free speech, the prosecution claimed—citing the precedence of The State of Alabama v. Giant Space Iguana—that “freedom of speech applies to what comes out of a mouth, not what goes in.” Similarly, in the Johnson case, it was argued that the defendant’s actions weren’t a form of protected speech, but instead desecration of an object that threatened to impart emotional and psychological stress on those witnessing the act. Such claims give rise to an important question regarding freedom of expression, which is, what exactly constitutes freedom of speech, and when should that speech receive protection?

  The United States Supreme Court wrestled with this question in several cases. One of the earliest cases, Stromberg v. California (1931), found in favor of a teenage member of the Young Communist League who was flying a red flag in violation of California state law. The Supreme Court found this to be a violation of the First and Fourteenth Amendments that protect freedom of speech and provide equal protection under the law. As part of its decision, the Court offered the rationale that the First Amendment provides a substantive defense of expression beyond just speech or printed word. This rationale was later applied to the landmark case of Tinker v. Des Moines Independent School District (1969) in which the court determined that students wearing black armbands in protest of US involvement in the Vietnam War was a protected form of symbolic speech.

  Much like the discussion of Mill’s perspective on liberty earlier, neither the Stromberg nor Tinker decisions should be interpreted as giving an absolute license for individuals to say or do things, claiming that they are protected merely because they are expressing themselves. In fact, the Court has gone on to find against various forms of expression that are lewd, recklessly false, and damaging to another person’s reputation, pose a clear and present danger to health and safety, and so on. However, these are limits to expression that are imposed in order to prevent some greater harm, not to suppress your freedom to express yourself or your beliefs. In many ways, the Court seems to embrace the political philosophy contained in the harm principle.

  All This Slavery and Oppression Is Shmutzing Up Our Freedom Lesson

  Unlike the Johnson decision, in which it was determined that Johnson’s symbolic form of expression was protected under the First Amendment of the United States Constitution, the heads of the Supreme Court of Earth found against Zoidberg in his case and ordered an immediate apology. When he refuses to apologize, on the grounds that eating Old Freebie was his right, the Court sentences him to death.

  The people of Earth, led by DOOP Commander Zapp Brannigan, assemble outside the Decapodian Embassy where Zoidberg has sought asylum and begin to ram the doors to forcibly extract Zoidberg. The Decapodian Ambassador shouts from his balcony: “Stay back! This embassy is sovereign mud of the mud planet Decapod 10. Invading these mud premises is an act of war.” Brannigan dismisses the threat with his usual bravado only to see the skies eventually—after they make the long schlep—filled with a Decapodian invasion force. The crustacean-like vessels quickly subdue the Earthlings and impose an oppressive rule under an iron-fist—or rather, an iron-claw.

  Enslaved, the people of Earth toil away under the whips of the occupying Decapodian forces, until eventually the fruit of their servitude is revealed: A Mobile Oppression Palace! The large, moving palace allows the Decapodians to withdraw their military from the planet and oppress the people of Earth with just a few dignitaries (thereby cutting down on the cost of occupation). Seeing the monstrosity fill the sky, Zoidberg’s lawyer, Old Waterfall, rushes out with Old Freebie to stand and face the Decapodians. “Do your worst, you sea devils,” Waterfall shouts. “I’ll make my stand with Ol’ Freebie. You can crush me but you can’t crush my spirit!” One claw of the giant palace is brought down on him, and in his dying cry he’s heard only to yell, “My spirit!”

  Zoidberg begins to look around at what his “freedom lesson” costs the people of Earth. He begins to realize that depriving his fellow Earthicans of their freedom is antithetical to his passionate belief in freedom. Moreover, he’s imposing the subjugation he felt while growing up on Decapod 10; the same oppression he emigrated to Earth to escape. Seeing the Decapodians kill his lawyer, the person who defended him when no one else would, is the last straw for Zoidberg. (It’s even worse than the Decapodians not having any marshmallows for his “nice mug cocoa.”) He decides that freedom is a noble goal and no one ought to be deprived of it. He leaves the palace and joins his friends of Earth in resisting the Decapodians.

  I Wonder What the Shroud of Turin Tastes Like?

  In order to liberate the people of Earth from the oppression of the Decapodians, Zoidberg must burn Earth’s flag (a none-too-subtle reminder of the Texas v. Johnson case). As he fans the flames of the burning flag, he shouts, “Yes, I’m desecrating a flag. But to preserve the freedom it represents!” He then throws it into the mud heap of the Decapodian Mobile Oppression Palace giving a launched heat seeking missile its target.

  The Decapodian oppression has ended, and from the mud splatter that remains the lesson is clear: In order to preserve freedom, we must allow for unpopular ideas and forms of expression. Only when we maintain the ability for the masses and the individual to express themselves openly and without suppression do we create an environment in which not only is freedom protected but also the positive aspects of community and progress that freedom allows.

  2

  Slurm, Worms, and Jacking On

  SHAUN P. YOUNG

  In Season One’s “Fry and the Slurm Factory,” Fry is challenged to choose between indulging his addiction to “Slurm,” the most popular soft drink in the year 3000, or saving the lives of his friends Leela and Bender. Leela’s in the process of being submerged in a vat of Royal Slurm and turned into a Slurm Queen, while Bender is about to be transformed into 174 Slurm cans!

  Though his friends are in urgent, life-threatening predicaments and he’s physically free to rescue them, Fry doesn’t immediately run to save them. Rather, having just been force-fed a spoonful of “concentrated super Slurm,” he becomes completely overwhelmed with a desire to drink the extra-potent beverage, so much so that he immerses his entire head in the trough containing it. Indeed, Fry’s inability to ignore the Slurm causes Bender to ask Leela “Are we boned?”, to which Leela responds “Yeah, we’re boned.”

  Though Fry manages to save Leela (who, in turn, saves Bender), he does so without abandoning the trough of super-potent Slurm, which he drags across the room until he’s able to reverse the machine that’s lowering Leela into the vat of Royal Slurm. So powerful is Fry’s addiction to Slurm, that after Leela dumps the super Slurm down a drain, he attempts to chew off his arm to enable him to slip through the drain to get to the Slurm!

  Those without an addiction to Slurm would generally find Fry’s behavior both idiotic to the degree that he was sincerely willing to sacrifice his arm(s) in order to access the super Slurm, and indefensible insofar as he didn’t immediately rush to rescue his friends. But was Fry genuinely at liberty to rescue his friends?

  I’m No Good at Being a Slave. I’m Thinking about Graduate School

  The concept of liberty and the means by which it’s most effectively realized are matters that have exercised the imaginations and taxed the energies of many of the most famous and influential political philosophers. And, as has been the case with all such concepts, the precise character and demands of liberty have been the subject of extensive debate. One of the most interesting debates concerns the type of liberty that’s necessary to live a “good” life.

  In the twentieth century, Isaiah Berlin suggested that liberty is best understood as either positive or negative. According to Berlin, positive liberty is freedom understood as “rational self-government,” or being ruled according to one’s own will. A person achieves positive liberty to the degree that they’re able to think clearly and rationally when m
aking decisions regarding what actions will best serve their self-interests. Such an understanding of liberty acknowledges that a person’s freedom can be restricted by means other than “external” obstacles or coercion—an individual can be equally constrained or impeded by factors internal to herself, such as a desire to satisfy an addiction, like Fry’s addiction to Slurm.

  Alternatively, negative liberty is, in essence, the freedom from coercive “external” interference. In other words, a person is free to the extent that their actions are immune to interference from others. That’s not to suggest that proponents of negative liberty believe that individuals should be free to do whatever they wish. Rather, negative liberty is generally understood to require that individuals be free to engage in any activity that does not harm others—what John Stuart Mill (1806–1873) labeled the “harm principle.” It’s this type of liberty that’s most typically associated with the idea of “individual liberty.” In the above-described scene from “Fry & the Slurm Factory,” Fry possesses such freedom: he’s left physically free to rescue his friends (presumably because the Slurm Queen believes that Fry’s addiction to Slurm is so powerful that he won’t be able to abandon it to save them). But is Fry genuinely free?

  According to Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778), merely possessing negative liberty doesn’t guarantee true freedom. Indeed, Rousseau argued that “external” coercion can be necessary to secure true freedom: People may need to be forced to act a certain way in order for them to realize their true freedom. In other words, they may need to be “forced to be free.” How can that be possible, you ask? Fry and Bender provide excellent case studies that reveal more clearly the concept of positive liberty and what Rousseau means by forcing someone to be free.