Futurama and Philosophy
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It’s Only Sane to Hide the Body in Your Mattress
RUSSELL HAMER
We tend to associate insanity with certain kinds of actions. Why is Professor Farnsworth potentially insane? It’s probably because he has an entire cabinet full of doomsday devices—among many other reasons.
But if we examine the issue closely, we’ll see that insanity is actually related to a certain set of beliefs. Why do we categorize someone as insane just because they wear tin foil hats? Not because the action of wearing a hat made of tin foil is insane, but because they believe the tin foil will protect them from the subliminal messages the CIA is beaming into their brains—these poor folks don’t know that only helmets made of lead actually work!
We call this belief “insane” because it runs counter to our generally accepted knowledge. If the CIA really had been known to send subliminal messages through the airwaves, we might not consider it so crazy to try to stop them by wearing a tin foil hat. So, in order to come to a better understanding of exactly what counts as insanity, we should look to the nature of belief, and consider which beliefs we’re logically justified in holding and which ones are insane.
You Could Drop Dead, That’d Show ’Em
Let’s consider two examples of people trying to escape from an insane asylum, the first one given by Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, and the second given in Futurama. Kierkegaard provides an anecdote during his discussion of objective versus subjective approaches to truth. He writes about a man who escapes from an insane asylum but realizes that as soon as he returns to society he’ll be recognized as insane, and thus needs to convince everyone that he’s, in fact, sane. He decides that he should say something that is true, for recognizing the difference between true and false claims is one of the ways that we distinguish those who are insane from those who aren’t.
The man sees a ball lying on the ground, ties it to his coat, and every time it bumps into him he exclaims, “Boom, the earth is round.” He walks around saying this with every step, for indeed the Earth is round. In this respect is he at all wrong? “No.” Clearly he’s able to distinguish some beliefs as true from others which are false. No one’s going to throw him back into the insane asylum because he thinks that the Earth is round. However, Kierkegaard claims it’s precisely because he thinks that claiming the Earth is round will convince others that he’s not insane, that we realize that he is insane. Thus it’s not the truth that always matters, but our relation to the truth.
Kierkegaard uses this example to demonstrate the difference between two distinct approaches to truth. On the one hand, we have the “objective approach.” This is the approach of math, science, and history. The objective approach seeks to understand facts. In Professor Farnsworth’s constant search for new inventions or new scientific facts, he’s seeking the objective truth. The objective approach treats truth as an object, something that’s out there in the world and can be found. To the extent that the truth is something that’s in the world, the person (who is the “subject”) seeking truth, is irrelevant. Either “human horn” will help Lrrr become more virile, or it won’t, but in either situation those seeking the truth are irrelevant to the facts. If they weren’t around to search for the truth, it’d nonetheless remain the same.
It’s the objective approach to truth that we’re most familiar with in our society. When we say that something is true, we usually mean that there’s some fact in the world that backs up our statement. That is to say, our statement is objectively true. No matter whom you are, or what opinions or beliefs you have, it’s objectively true that the sum of the interior angles of a triangle is one hundred and eighty degrees. That’s an objective fact, regardless of whether or not we recognize it as such.
The opposite of the objective approach is what Kierkegaard calls the subjective approach, which puts the emphasis on the subject, or the individual seeking the truth. Oftentimes this can be confusing, as we tend to use the word “subject” to refer to the main topic of conversation, or an area of study. For Kierkegaard, the “subject” refers to the individual: it refers to you or me. Thus, the subjective approach to truth focuses on the way you or I relate to the truth. Kierkegaard uses the words “inwardness” and “appropriation” to describe the subjective approach. At its core, the subjective approach to truth is one in which we value how something affects us as individuals.
To describe the difference between these two approaches to truth, Kierkegaard gives an example. He tells us of two men, one who prays to the objectively correct God (assuming that there is one), and another who prays to a false god, but does so with all the passion that he can muster. Kierkegaard claims that the first man has the correct objective truth, whereas the second man has the correct subjective truth. The second man is fully invested in his actions. He’s praying his heart out and thus he clearly finds his actions to be very important and valuable. Kierkegaard often describes this as having the right kind of relationship. The individual relates to his belief in God in a personal and meaningful manner. It’s this kind of relationship that Kierkegaard is referring to when he mentions the subjective approach. The subjective approach centers on the way that we relate to something, or the way that it impacts our lives.
Returning to the man who was escaping from the insane asylum, it’s clear that he possesses objective truth, but he doesn’t possess subjective truth. He doesn’t have a proper relationship to the truth of the roundness of the world. He thinks that by proclaiming an objective fact he will prove that he is sane, whereas it’s precisely because he tries to prove his sanity by saying something objective, and not demonstrating a subjective approach, that we realize he’s insane. For this reason, Kierkegaard thinks that we need to consider the subjective approach as valuable, something he thinks that we constantly overlook.
Insane in the Mainframe
In the Season Three episode “Insane in the Mainframe,” we get a similar story of escaping from an insane asylum. Fry and Bender are both thrown into an asylum for insane robots. Fry is sent there by mistake, because the asylum for insane humans is full. Fry is faced with an interesting situation. When he tries to reason with the head doctor, Dr. Perceptron, the doctor responds by saying, “You were admitted to this robot asylum, therefore, you must be a robot.”
Admittedly, the logic is flawless. If only robots get admitted to the robot asylum, and Fry has been admitted there, then he must be a robot. However, the objective truth is that he’s a human. Yet, when Fry insists to the doctor that he is a human, he only succeeds in convincing the doctor that he’s an insane robot, for only an insane robot would think that it was human. In this way, Fry possesses the correct objective truth, but he’s surrounded by others who fail to recognize the proper objective truth.
Fry’s in a bit of a proverbial pickle. He has the correct objective truth, that he’s human, though the staff at the robot asylum believes he’s incorrect. No matter how hard he tries to convince them of his humanity (whether by complaining, or aging right in front of their faces), the staff refuses to believe him. So how does he escape? He takes a subjective approach, albeit not purposefully. Fry eventually goes insane himself, and believes that he’s a robot. Upon that occurrence, he is released back to his friends. If Fry had agreed with Dr. Perceptron right away that he was indeed a robot, it’s doubtful he would’ve been released. Merely acknowledging that he was made of metal wouldn’t have been enough. Instead, Fry needed to believe it. This is the subjective approach. Fry gains an intimate connection with the idea that he’s a robot. He believes it so deeply that he puts himself in harm’s way, something very unbecoming of his cowardly character.
Now, I’m sure that you’re thinking, “But wait, Fry has the wrong truth. He has taken the subjective approach to the wrong thing.” And right you’d be. Therein lies the problem with the subjective approach. As Kierkegaard claimed, under a purely subjective approach, there’s no way to distinguish lunacy from sanity. Fry is clearly insane in thinking that
he’s a robot. I mean, sure, it explains why human females won’t date him, as obviously there are no other logical explanations. Yet, he accepts the belief that he’s a robot with all of his being. That’s a fully subjective approach. Only at the end of the episode does he change his mind when faced with other evidence. Thus we have two approaches to truth, and both seem indistinguishable from lunacy unless they complement one another.
This Is No Ordinary Honey!
We encounter a similar occurrence in Season Four’s “The Sting” when Leela gets stung by a space bee. Unbeknownst to her, she’s in a coma and her mind is starting to unravel. In her dream state, she thinks that she’s alive and that Fry died protecting her from the space bee. However, she has a dream within a dream, and in it, Fry is alive and well and trying to communicate with her. Though she doesn’t suspect inception (as she should) as being the culprit for her odd dreams, Leela tries to find evidence for Fry’s existence. He starts telling her things in her dreams that give her clues that he’s still alive. However, Fry died, and everyone knows it—remember, we’re still in Leela’s coma-dream. Thus, as Leela tries to prove that Fry’s still alive, everyone judges her as being insane. Indeed, she starts to lose her mind and at one point claims, “I’ll find Fry’s coffin, get his corpse, and keep it under my mattress to remind me that he’s really dead. That’ll prove I’m not insane.”
Leela attempts to prove her sanity by appealing to the objective truth. The existence of Fry’s dead body will help remind her that Fry is indeed dead, and thus, she’ll accept the objective truth of the matter. She thinks that this truth will prove her sanity. Similarly to the man who escaped from the insane asylum in Kierkegaard’s story, she might possess the objective truth, but it’s precisely by this mark that we recognize her insanity. Needing a dead body to remind you that someone is dead is just as insane as telling everyone that the Earth is round every time a ball bumps you.
Leela’s obviously insane because she lacks a subjective approach to the truth, that is, she lacks a connection to the truth of Fry’s death. In both Kierkegaard’s and Leela’s situation, the objective truth is traitorous. By itself, it’s never able to prove sanity. Indeed, there must be some kind of connection between the person and the belief. If I were to see Fry’s dead body, that would certainly prove to me that he’s dead, thus I would possess an objective truth. However, I wouldn’t require such an experience to be convinced of Fry’s death were I in Leela’s situation. This is because I’m not insane, contrary to the opinion of those who know me. Would an insane person write an article about insanity in a fictional futuristic universe just for pleasure? I think not.
So, we seem to be stuck. By itself, the objective approach to truth doesn’t help us ensure sanity. Indeed, we can’t judge someone as sane simply because they possess the objective truth. But in the same vein, we can’t judge someone as sane simply because they possess the subjective truth. I could believe, as Fry did, that I’m a robot. I could believe it so entirely that I fear magnets more than I fear bullets. If this were the case, I would have a purely subjective perspective on the truth of my situation. I’ve developed such a relationship to the idea that I’m a robot that I have fully and entirely committed to it.
But if I’m so committed to the idea that I’m a robot, nothing will be able to convince me that I’m not. I can make up any excuse in order to keep my belief. If I get stabbed, as Fry did, and I begin to bleed, it might be because I’m an organic robot, or android. It might be because I’m having an android dream (probably of electric sheep). Maybe it’s an optical illusion, or one of a thousand possible explanations. If I want to believe that I’m a robot, there seems to be nothing that anyone could do to convince me otherwise. Thus, the subjective approach seems problematic as well, for if I wholly believe something such that it changes my entire existence, thus demonstrating that I have the subjective approach, it seems that I can believe anything I so wish. So, how do we reconcile these two approaches to truth? What beliefs are rational, or sane to have?
I Choose to Believe What I Was Programmed to Believe!
In order to help us solve this dilemma, it may be helpful to look to William James and his examination of belief. Our current dilemma arises from the fact that if we take the subjective approach to truth, which we seemingly must do in order to avoid insanity, we’re left with the ability to believe anything. This is highly problematic in any search for truth. A pertinent question at this point might be, “What things are we allowed to believe?”
In his essay “The Will to Believe,” James argues that we oftentimes believe certain things simply because we’re predisposed to believing them. This predisposition comes from each individual’s upbringing and surroundings. For instance, someone who grew up in a family of blernsball enthusiasts is likely to believe that blernsball is a sensible sport, and maybe even an enjoyable one.
Our psychological makeup gives us a tendency to accept certain beliefs and not others. Thus, James asks, which beliefs are legitimate for us to have? Though we have certain predispositions, presumably we can’t just believe anything. Generally we come to believe things based on our experiences or on evidence that we encounter. Zapp Brannigan believes that he’s a good ship commander because he’s won numerous battles through cunning, strategy, and the use of velour. Our experiences leave us with certain beliefs both about ourselves and the world that surrounds us.
James examines this process of belief-making and comes to an interesting conclusion. Instead of evidence leading to belief, there might be things that we need to believe first before we can see evidence for them. In other words, sometimes we must have faith in things so that we can recognize their truth. For instance, what would count as evidence for the existence of a god? The response here seems heavily influenced by whether or not you already have a belief in a god. Thus, certain things only count as evidence given a belief structure that is already in place.
Does this give us license to believe anything? James was trying to leave the door open for certain kinds of religious beliefs, but presumably he didn’t have the Flying Spaghetti Monster in mind. While he left room for religious beliefs, James was very much in favor of a kind of scientific method concerning our beliefs. Thus we should examine evidence and attempt to make informed decisions, to the extent that we can, concerning what we believe. Yet, there might be things that we must believe first before we’re able to examine the evidence that supports the belief.
Insanity Plea Is Accepted
So, Fry certainly has the right to believe that he’s a robot, and in doing so, to examine the evidence. Yet, he should quickly realize that the evidence does not support his belief, and thus he should amend his beliefs accordingly. Indeed, he undergoes a process like this, albeit a slow one.
If the subjective approach to truth is, as Kierkegaard suggests, valuable both in our human existence and in our valuation of rational and sane beliefs versus irrational and insane ones, then Fry might be a perfect model of a truth seeker. He’s faced with a bizarre scenario and accepts the belief that he is a robot, and does so with the utmost conviction, thereby fulfilling the subjective approach. However, he did not merely stay at this level. He tried to understand his robot existence. He sought evidence for his primary function. In so doing he ran into evidence that opposed his belief. When his arm gets nicked by a knife and he bleeds human blood and not robot oil, he realizes that he isn’t a robot. Thus, he was confronted with the objective truth as to whether he was a robot. He didn’t hold onto his belief when faced with opposing evidence.
According to James’s argument, Fry is justified in his initial belief. Though it seems odd to think yourself a robot, maybe that belief is required in order for the evidence to come forward. Given that justification, he pursues the objective truth subjectively. He passionately seeks an answer, but doesn’t do so blindly. He doesn’t merely seek to reaffirm the beliefs that he already possesses, but to gain an understanding of the actual state of affairs. While he believes tha
t he’s a robot, and is committed to that belief, he nonetheless wishes to find out what’s objectively true. He seeks to know whether he is indeed a robot or not, and he pursues that answer passionately.
So in this, as in all things, Fry is the hero.
Futurama Episodes, Writers, and Voice Actors
Season One
(Aired: March 28th 1999 to November 14th 1999)
Space Pilot 3000
Written by: David X. Cohen and Matt Groening
The Series Has Landed
Ken Keeler
I, Roommate
Eric Horsted
Love’s Labours Lost in Space
Brian Kelley
Fear of a Bot Planet