The Genius of Futuristic Sexlexia
Thus, all the robosexual, masochistic, obsessive-compulsive, cephalophilic sexualities on Futurama may just be an insanely funny way of titillating us with absurdity and weirdness. Yet the genius of such scenarios is that they not only reflect back our own colossal sexlexic buffoonery with affection and humor, but sometimes they show us the profound existential dread and despair that suffuse our yearning for snoo snoo, whether that means cuddling with gigantic women, making the crustacean with two carapaces, spanking a sea-creature’s sister with a slice of bologna, or just doing the “normal” things we find erotic (erotic! erotic! erotic!). . . .
1 J.S. Piven, “Narcissism, Sexuality, and Psyche in Terrorist Theology,” Psychoanalytic Review (April 2006).
6
Good Old Bender!
RYAN JENKINS
“Oh Lord, he’s made of wood,” laments Leela, as Bender stands on the balcony in the hanger of Planet Express, having both recently declared a crusade against technology and transformed himself into a “steam-powered, wooden robot.”
But how can Leela be so confident that this is Bender and not just some wooden imposter? After all, this is Bender as she’s never seen him before: his body replaced with walnut paneling, the only constant being his characteristic visor. Even though Leela thinks this is Bender, she can’t be sure. Just because he looks like Bender, doesn’t mean he is Bender. He could be an imposter!
Since physical appearance doesn’t guarantee that wooden-Bender is the Bender we know and love, his personal identity must be tied to something else. So, what makes Bender Bender? Bender goes through a variety of changes throughout the series, yet we consider him the same decadent robot.
Robots Are People Too
People change over time. We change our clothes, our haircuts, and occasionally we change our minds. But we normally think we’re the same person at the end of our life as we were at the beginning.
It’s also natural to talk about the robots of Futurama in the same way that we talk about human beings. This is because the robots of Futurama have bodies and personalities in the same way that people do. Just like humans, they appear to make decisions, remember things they did in the past, and expect things to happen in the future. As a result of this quirky feature of Futurama, it seems fair to talk about robots and people in the same breath. It’s sort of like we have our very own What-If Machine. So let’s look at the main philosophical theories about how people (or robots!) retain their identity through time and see which can help us explain why Leela, and viewers, are justified in identifying the wooden Bender as the “real” Bender.
The Case of the Broken Table
Let’s start with an easy question: how do the identities of objects (that are not people) persist through change? Suppose Scruffy the janitor is in charge of keeping the conference room at Planet Express in order. One day, Nibbler feels a bit peckish and devours one of the legs of the table, and Scruffy replaces it with a new leg. Does replacing the leg make it a new table? Surely not!
Suppose the next week a different table leg breaks, and Scruffy replaces that leg, then and another, and another. Finally, imagine that Bender, while practicing wrestling moves as the Gender Bender (“Raging Bender,” Season Two), breaks the top of the table and Scruffy has to replace that, too. After all of this, every single part of the table is different than when we began our thought experiment. Is it still the same table? Some people would say that the original table just doesn’t exist anymore, since no part of the original table is left, but others would disagree.
Who’s right probably depends on how quickly the parts of the table are replaced. If Scruffy switches out one piece of the table every year, then the Planet Express conference table seems to remain the same table. However, if the Gender Bender body-slams the table and shatters the thing to smithereens, and Scruffy repairs the entire table in one fell swoop, then it seems like the original table is lost, and Scruffy has built a new table in its place.
What all this shows is that the existence of objects like tables and chairs depends on the existence of their parts. If you change all of their parts quickly enough, you have a different object, and the original object no longer exists. Do individuals like Fry, Bender, and Lrrr of Omicron Persei 8 work the same way? If you think that individuals depend on their parts in the same way as tables and chairs, then you believe the same body theory of personal identity.
All of our bodies change over the course of our lives as our cells naturally die and are replaced. In fact—allegedly—human beings get a “new body” every seven years or so, meaning we don’t have any of the same cells in our body that we had seven years ago. Does this mean that we become a different individual every seven years? When celebrating our birthdays, do we only ever actually get seven years old before a new person takes our place? Does it make sense to celebrate a person’s eighth birthday, or are they a different person than the person who turned one year old?
The same body theory of personal identity might still be true as long as the change in our bodies occurs slowly enough. Just as Scruffy only creates a new table when he replaces all of the parts at once, maybe we stay the same individual as long as we replace our bodies slowly enough.
Bender Isn’t Just His Shiny Metal . . .
So, does the same body theory of personal identity explain how Bender is the same individual throughout time? The writers of Futurama are downright magnanimous in giving us numerous (hilarious) episodes to test this hypothesis.
In Season Four’s “Obsoletely Fabulous,” Bender rebels against technology and reinvents himself as a steam-powered wooden robot. Yet Leela, Amy, and the others—not to mention the audience—continue to recognize him as the same individual. This counts against the same body theory of personal identity, which says that Bender actually became a different individual when he swapped his metal body for his newfound wooden getup. But that conclusion seems wrong.
In “Anthology of Interest II” (Season Three), Bender asks Professor Farnsworth’s What-If Machine what the world would be like if he were a human rather than a robot. The audience is then treated to a revolting show of the consequences of Bender’s unquenchable debauchery in human form. But no one refers to him as “Bender 2” or by any other name. This is still Bender, merely in a different body. And we know him because we recognize his habits and his personality: he maintains the same unapologetic “bite my shiny metal . . .” pursuit of pleasure that he’s always had. He’s still the same individual: another mark against the same body theory of personal identity.
In “The Honking” (Season Two), Bender’s run over by the most evil car in the world—pieced together from the most evil parts of other evil cars, like the left turn signal from Charles Manson’s VW van. The accident turns Bender into a were-car, cursed forever to stalk the swampy moors in search of other victims. Yet, the other characters still know this is him, even when he transforms into his four-wheeled, were-car form. Fry still refers to Bender as his best friend and is offended when Bender tries to kill Leela first. This only makes sense if Fry believes the were-car is, deep down, good old Bender.
What do all of these episodes tell us? They tell us that Bender isn’t just his body, because his body changes in innumerable ways while he still remains good old Bender.
Does Bender Have a Soul?
Where do Bender’s personality traits reside? If we were talking about human beings, some philosophers—like, René Descartes—would suggest that a person’s mental characteristics are contained in their soul. As you might have guessed, this is called the same soul theory of personal identity. So, maybe Bender’s identity goes wherever his soul goes, since that’s the seat of his personality. However, even if the soul is the source of personal identity for humans, it wouldn’t explain robot personal identity. This is because the robots in Futurama don’t have souls.
In the beginning of “Obsoletely Fabulous,” we learn this interesting fact about robots. At the doorway to the
Roboticon 3003 conference, participants walk through a “Soul Detector,” in order to ensure no free-loading souls get in. Several robots are shown walking through, but when Fry walks through, the alarm bells go off. He’s then forced to pay an entry fee. So, it turns out that robots don’t have souls, while people do, at least according to Futurama. (Also, it should be obvious even before Futurama shows us this that robots don’t have souls. After all, they’re robots!) The same soul theory can’t help us here.
The Many Lives of Bender Bending Rodriguez
So, if Bender’s identity is neither dependent on his body nor his soul, what is it dependent on? Some philosophers—like, John Locke—think it’s crazy to believe that individuals (or robots like Bender) could persist through time in the same way that objects like tables and chairs do. These philosophers instead defend the psychological continuity theory of personal identity, arguing that our persistence through time depends on an overlapping chain of memories, personality traits, and other mental characteristics.
How am I the same person I was yesterday? Because I generally have the same beliefs, attitudes, and personality traits I had yesterday. Moreover, I remember being myself yesterday. For example, this theory suggests that when Hermes has a brain slug planted on his head that controls his thoughts and actions, he’s no longer Hermes (“A Head in the Polls,” Season Two). As we’ll see, psychological continuity best describes Bender’s identity over time.
To know whether the psychological continuity theory explains Bender’s identity over time, we first have to determine his essential features. If they turn out to be mental features, then we’ll know we’re on the right track. So, what are Bender’s essential features? Leela does a bang-up job of describing Bender as an “alcoholic, whore-mongering, chainsmoking gambler,” in Season Four’s “Crimes of the Hot.” We might also add to this list kleptomania, callousness, and psychopathy. Anywhere Bender goes, these essential traits are sure to follow; and if they don’t exist, he doesn’t exist. And since it’s the continuity of certain psychological traits that makes Bender the same over time, it must be the psychological continuity theory of personal identity that is correct here.
In Season Two’s “I Second That Emotion,” Bender has an empathy chip installed which allows him to appreciate other peoples’ emotions for the first time. Now, here’s a change that does threaten to radically alter his identity. Bender is otherwise famous for being insensitive and egotistical. (“Bender is great,” after all, and everyone else can “kiss his shiny metal . . .”) Remarkably, in this episode Bender chooses to endanger his own life to rescue Nibbler, among other characteristically un-Bender actions. A Bender who’s overly empathetic is just not the same.
This change is not as significant as the one that Bender undergoes in “Hell Is Other Robots,” when Bender converts to a humble and ascetic religion. After becoming addicted to consuming electricity and then hitting rock bottom, Bender joins the Church of Robotology. As a result, his behavior and beliefs change radically, and he renounces hookerbots, stealing, and drinking. When Bender takes the crew out for dinner at a fancy restaurant, Leela remarks that it’s something “the old Bender” never would’ve done. Acknowledging his own transformation and the radical break with his past, Bender replies, “The old Bender is gone. He won’t trouble you anymore.”
The rest of the crew is so unsettled by the prospect of losing their friend Bender forever that they do their best to tempt him back into sinning (which doesn’t take long). Soon, Bender is partying with strippers, two beers in one hand, three cigars in his mouth, and a stolen purse on his shoulder. As a result, he’s sent to Robot Hell. After escaping, Bender resolves to return to his authentic ways, saying that he’ll just be himself from now on. Fry remarks with a contented sigh, “Good old Bender.”
The most extreme threat to Bender’s personality is seen in Season Six’s “The Prisoner of Benda,” when he swaps minds with Emperor Nikolai, the leader of the Robo-Hungarian Empire. In this episode, it’s perfectly natural to speak of Bender in Nikolai’s body, rather than Bender’s mind, memories, or personality in Nikolai’s body. That’s just because Bender is his mind, memories, and personality. If Bender goes anywhere when he swaps bodies with Nikolai, then it’s into Nikolai’s body, since that’s where his memories and personality go.
Bender’s Mentality Makes Bender Bender
If this is all correct, then the psychological continuity theory is correct. In fact, we get more evidence for this view in “Obsoletely Fabulous,” the episode that sparked this entire discussion. In this episode, Mom’s Friendly Robot Corporation introduces their newest model, the Robot 1-X, which makes all other robots obsolete. To ameliorate their understandable resentment, Bender and other robots line up for a “compatibility upgrade” that will change their attitudes toward the 1-X robots.
When Roberto, a robot who’s in line in front of Bender, is placed in the upgrade machine, he shouts, “Death to the 1-X robots!” before bolts of energy course through his head. When he emerges, he exclaims just as sincerely, “I love those magnificent 1-X robots!” Seeing this, Bender recoils in horror. “They took away his robo-humanity!” Bender says, and made him “not him anymore.”
Let’s suppose that Bender is right—that the radical and instantaneous change in Roberto’s mental characteristics made him a different individual. If Bender is right, then this is evidence for the psychological continuity theory: our persistence through time depends on a continuous psychological link to our past selves. If the link is broken, and especially if an important link is broken very quickly, then we cease to exist and someone else takes our place. The Roberto that emerges from the machine appears to be a different robot than the Roberto who entered.
Bender’s personality makes him who he is. But just where does Bender’s personality actually reside? Bender doesn’t have a soul, but he does have a hard drive, which it turns out forms the seat of his personality. We know this from two episodes. First, in “The Silence of the Clamps” (Season Six), Bender enters the witness protection program. When the crew thinks they’ve found Bender, Professor Farnsworth opens up the back of his head to examine his hard drive. It’s implied that this is the location where a robot’s memories and personality traits are stored. We get pretty explicit evidence for this in the episode “How Hermes Requisitioned His Groove Back” (Season Two), when bureaucrat Morgan Proctor downloads Bender’s personality onto a (charmingly anachronistic) floppy disk. “Everything that is Bender is right here,” she says. This renders Bender the robot version of a mindless zombie, who can only say, “I am Bender. Please insert girder,” until his identity is restored (or re-installed, if you will).
Psychological Continuity from the Inside
The case of Roberto from above is actually a bit misleading, so let’s look at it more closely. Does Roberto’s seemingly instantaneous transformation show that he’s not the same person? Is the original Roberto erased from history and the Roberto that appears in later episodes a different individual? Assuming what happens to Bender when he receives the robot 1-X compatibility upgrade is the same thing that happens to Roberto, the answer is actually, “No”—here’s why.
What we the viewers see is Bender fleeing New New York and transforming himself into a wooden robot. He then returns to the city in a crusade against technology. After his body burns to ashes in a fire in the Planet Express hangar, it’s revealed that the entire episode was a dream inside Bender’s mind. The scene changes back to Bender finishing his compatibility upgrade and saying, “I love those magnificent 1-X robots. The 1-X robots are my friends.” What has just happened?
Bender’s psychological traits have changed, all right. And from the outside, they appear to have changed instantaneously, just as with Roberto. Unless you were inside Bender’s mind, and experiencing things as he did, you would have to conclude that Bender’s personality was erased and replaced with one which is more friendly to the 1-X robots. But we know that’s not how it actually happens fro
m the inside. Bender and Roberto remain the same individuals since they experience the change as being gradual and slow. In both cases, the robot who steps out of the upgrade machine is actually the same one who stepped in. To an outsider, Bender’s and Roberto’s re-education seems to be a drastic enough break that it violates psychological continuity. But the viewers, having been treated to a glimpse inside the mind of a robot receiving the upgrade, know better.
So, what’s special about Bender? Sure, he’s Planet Express’s cook, but he could’ve had a different job and still been the same individual. That’s just an accidental feature, not an essential feature of Bender. But Bender couldn’t have been a generous, abstinent, empathetic teetotaler and still been the same individual. The reason Leela recognizes Bender when he’s made of wood isn’t because she merely recognizes the physical characteristics of Bender; rather, it’s because he still has his hard drive, memories, and mental traits, which result in the same Bender personality we all recognize and love.
Bender’s whore-mongering, psychopathic, kleptomaniac ways—his in-your-face interface—remain the same. And that’s the ultimate sign that you’re looking at good old Bender.
7
We’re Gathered to Remember
COURTLAND LEWIS
Being remembered is one of the greatest feelings you can experience, while being forgotten is one of the worst. If you have a relative suffering with Alzheimer’s or dementia, then you know how sad and frustrating it is to be forgotten. If you’re old enough, think about your high school reunion and how you felt when your “friends” failed to remember you. For the rest of you, think about how it feels to have someone forget your birthday, a spouse forget an anniversary, or to have someone forget your name. All of these examples are different ways of being remembered or forgotten. While being remembered can fill your heart with joy and hope for the future, being forgotten can crush you, shaking the very foundation of your self-worth.
Futurama and Philosophy Page 7