Dexter and Philosophy

by Greene, Richard; Reisch, George A. ; Robison, Rachel

  Moreover, Dexter could not have foreseen that his turning Lumen into a killer would go as well as it did. In Plato’s dialogue The Apology Socrates is put on trial for corrupting the youth of Athens (among other things).22 In his defense Socrates points out that anyone who corrupts the youth must do so either voluntarily or involuntarily. He provides the following argument for the position that, had he corrupted the youth of Athens, he would not have done so voluntarily. Wicked people harm their associates, where as good people benefit them. Everyone would rather be benefitted than harmed by his or her associates. Therefore, anyone who corrupts his or her associates runs the risk of being harmed by them. Since Socrates knows that the previous premise is true, he concludes: if he harms his associates, he does so involuntarily.

  Dexter must also recognize that corrupting Lumen could put him at risk of being harmed by her, especially given that he would be the only one who could identify her as a murderer. So, rationally speaking, Dexter does not have reason to believe that helping Lumen would work out as well as it did. He had Socrates’s reasons for thinking that it might not work out so well.

  In fact, Dexter’s interactions with former District Attorney turned killer Miguel Prado, actually provide Dexter with a very good reason for thinking that things with Lumen might not go so well. While the circumstances surrounding Dexter’s turning Lumen into a killer are somewhat different from the circumstances in which he helps Miguel become a killer—Miguel had something on Dexter, such that Dexter was sort of forced to help him—the relevant features are identical: in each case Dexter ended up training his protégé in the ways of Harry’s Code. Miguel did not adhere to the code much at all and eventually became Dexter’s adversary. Dexter’s very life was at risk, along with his secrets and his identity.

  Albert Eistein is reported to have said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” From this we can see that one hallmark of rationality is learning from past events. Were Dexter being rational in the case of Lumen he would have learned from the case of Miguel. Thus, the possibility of good foreseeable consequences serving as a ground of practical rationality, does not help Dexter in these cases. If Dexter’s decisions to help Lumen and to assist her in becoming a killer are going to turn out to be rational, we’re going to need to turn to different models of practical rationality.

  The Homicidal Imperative?

  A number of prominent moral theorists have argued that it is always rational to do the ethical thing and never rational to do otherwise. This is a point worth addressing because, if it is correct, then any further analysis of Dexter’s decisions becomes unnecessary: to the extent that they involve unethical action, they would be irrational by definition.

  Plato argues that to be ethical is, ultimately, a matter of being psychologically healthy (of having a well-ordered soul), which, in turn, gets defined as being rational (or, more precisely, having the rational or reasoning parts of the soul control the various other parts of the soul).23 Kant argues that rational actions are those that are in accordance with maxims that can be universalized and, hence, are not contingent on one’s personal desires or sentiments.24 He further argues that, if an act is not contingent on one’s desires yet one has a reason to perform that act, then one must be commanded by reason to perform that act. Thus, on Kant’s view, moral acts are always, by definition, rational actions, and immoral actions are always, by definition, irrational.

  Plato’s view offers us no real guidance in answering the question of whether Dexter’s helping Lumen is practically rational. It tells us that the moral thing to do is to act in accordance with reason or to do as reason dictates, but it does not further tell us what reason actually dictates in theses circumstances. At best it tells us that if Dexter is doing what reason requires, then he’s doing the right thing.

  Kant’s position, on the other hand, is more helpful. Kant provides means by which we can determine the morality of specific actions. We can look to see if those actions can be universalized without contradiction. We can ask whether our action is the kind of thing we would want everyone doing. Also, we can examine to see whether particular actions are treating the humanity (that is, the rational capacity to set one’s own goals) of persons as an end in itself. In other words, we can ask whether we are violating people’s autonomy when we act.

  Neither of Dexter’s actions—helping Lumen exact revenge and training her to become a killer—will turn out to be moral on Kant’s grounds. Consequently, neither action will turn out to be rational. We wouldn’t want to live in a world where everyone was a killer (since we might end up getting killed) and we violate a person’s autonomy in the worst way when we kill him or her. This assessment seems right: Dexter is helping Lumen become a killer, for Pete’s sake. Even if her assailants deserve to die, the way Dexter and Lumen are going about it doesn’t appear to be moral in any sense. So the strategy of attempting to get Dexter’s actions to come out as rational by examining the morality of those actions appears doomed to fail.

  Kickin’ It New School

  Let’s look at some contemporary views of practical rationality. These days, theories of rationality tend to fall into one of two broad categories: instrumentality theories and maximizing theories. Instrumentality theories tend to focus on the means employed by agents as they attempt to meet various goals. Here, rationality (roughly) gets cashed out in terms of whether said means are effective or optimal for meeting said goals. Maximizing theories tend to focus on the goals of the agent themselves. Rationality (again, roughly) gets cashed out in terms of whether the goal itself is one that is rational to have, given the overall desire set of the particular agent.

  Let’s begin with a maximizing theory. Decision theory is a paradigmatic example of a maximizing theory. According to decision theorists, rationality involves determining by means of a mathematical calculation which of all available actions will bring about the best state of affairs and then acting on the basis of that calculation. The mathematical calculation is a function of the relevant probabilities of a particular outcome resulting from a given action and the value of that outcome. The product of a decision-based calculus is the endorsement of the particular action or strategy that produces the optimal state of affairs, given the agent’s overall set of desires. Such an action or strategy is considered to be the rational strategy or course of action.

  According to Decision Theory, Dexter’s actions would be rational only if they brought about the best state of affairs, given his overall set of desires. It is not possible to know what all of Dexter’s desires are, but we do know that he places great emphasis on Harry’s Code. As we’ve seen, the desire to not get caught is very high up on Dexter’s list. Moreover, we’ve already seen that the way things turned out for Dexter and Lumen was not foreseeable. Thus, it stands to reason that Dexter was not acting according to the dictates of Decision Theory, as his calculations would have suggested a very different course of action.

  Now consider instrumentality theory. Were Dexter’s means an effective or optimal way of meeting his goals? The consequences were good, and he was able to assist Lumen, but just because a strategy works out in a particular instance doesn’t mean that it is an optimal strategy. Again, consider Masuka’s strategy of paying his bills by getting plastered in a strip club. It worked out once, but would most likely not work out so well on other occasions. So to assess Dexter’s means we have to consider their general likelihood of working out. Presumably Dexter’s goals in this case are (roughly): 1. Don’t violate Harry’s Code; 2. Help Lumen exact revenge, and 3. Train Lumen to become a killer. Attempting to meet each of these goals simultaneously, in most cases, would not work out. Specifically #2 and #3 are largely antithetical to #1, for all the reasons we’ve already considered: Lumen is a bit of a loose cannon, corrupting her could yield very bad consequences for Dexter, Dexter is able to adhere to Harry’s Code precisely because he is able to largely control all the relevant variables, and so on. It would ap
pear, then, that neither of the most popular contemporary accounts of practical rationality render the verdict that Dexter’s actions are rational, either.

  I’ve Got No Strings . . .

  One conclusion that we can draw is that no account of practical rationality is going to maintain that Dexter’s interactions with Lumen were rational. We’ve not examined every possible theory of rationality, but the one’s we have considered are pretty broad. They represent the most general strategies, and in each case his actions fail the rationality test.

  Dexter’s actions aren’t rational in virtue of their good consequences; as the view that consequences determine rationality has been shown to be implausible in its most general form and inapplicable to Dexter in its most plausible form—when focus was placed on foreseeable consequences. His actions aren’t rational in virtue of their being moral (because they simply aren’t, in fact, moral). His actions aren’t rational in virtue of their maximizing satisfaction of Dexter’s desires, as his strongest desires involve things such as not getting caught, and a decision-theory calculus based on such desires would have had Dexter performing very different actions. Finally, Dexter’s actions are not rational in virtue of their being optimal for meeting his goals, as they simply would not likely meet his goals in most cases.

  Is this result bad for Dexter? Perhaps not. To the extent that Dexter has no real emotions, he is in some sense deficient. It’s great to be very rational, but no one desires to be rational at the expense of not having the full range of human experiences. Acting in nonrational ways doesn’t give one emotions, per se, but it may be a sign that Dexter is changing in a fundamental way. Maybe our little wooden boy is starting to become a real boy.

  BODY PART II

  The Cut of Dexter’s Jib

  8

  Dexter’s Mirror

  JERRY S. PIVEN

  What drives Dexter? What makes him murder? Is Dexter a sociopath? Here we have a serial killer who shows no remorse and no empathy for the victims whom he wraps in plastic and murders ceremoniously. Dexter ritualizes death, sanctifies it, draws a blood sample from each murdered murderer and informs them that they are destined for death because of their own loathsome crimes.

  Beyond guilt, Dexter seems to thrive on death. He relishes the ritual, craves it, and hungers for death when deprived of the opportunity. When life intervenes to thwart death, Dexter feels anxious, antsy, frustrated, and foggy, jonesing for murder. Beyond death, in life Dexter also displays the marked absence of empathy and human feeling that are so conspicuous among sociopathic killers.

  We often hear that Dexter is a sociopath, or a psychopath, or an antisocial personality, or even a dissocial personality (different schools of psychology have a diversity of lexicons and definitions). It’s also fashionable to explain the darkness of serial killers and sociopathy as the result of bad genes. So genes are invoked to explain why Dexter is such a fumbling brother, a total “tard” as his sister calls him, a person who lacks the usual desires and feelings, but can murder without that kind of torturous guilt that makes Shakespeare characters wring their hands and cry to the heavens. Surrounded by death, blood, anguish, laughter, and sexuality, Dexter is aloof and askew, and has to remind himself to act “normal” because it just isn’t him.

  The Seduction of Blood

  But is Dexter merely a story about a person with defective genes or cognitive impairment? The show may indeed force us to question the extent to which people are the product of their genes. It certainly revisits the issue of whether we have free will, and how much our genes, or wiring, determine our behavior regardless of environment or upbringing. However, Dexter is also a dark reflection on the human capacity to murder, and with each episode we reach down deeper into the soul of a serial killer to find not genetic dispositions, but the all too human suffering and despair that inhabits and moves us.

  The possible genetic origins of sociopathy notwithstanding, Dexter is more complicated than a simplistic diagnosis, and he is certainly written as a more intriguing character. What’s so fascinating and relevant about Dexter is that it explores what kinds of suffering can make people vengeful, violent, and capable of murder, while they have no genuine understanding of why they are truly motivated to kill.

  But is Dexter even a sociopath? Dexter does care about others, such as his sister Deb, his paramour Rita, and her kids. Dexter is eerily devoted to his father. This is not the callousness or calculation of a sociopath, but that of a vulnerable boy who seeks the love of his father and is afraid of disappointing him. Dexter’s sensitivity to his father’s wishes transcends death. As an adolescent Dexter exhibits remorse before his father, and peers anxiously into his eyes for approval. Even as a fully-actualized adult serial killer, Dexter’s need to please his father is so intense that he yearns for the sanction of a specter, a ghost who becomes his conscience.

  Dexter hardly lacks empathy. The son is still haunted by the admonishment and love of a ghost. In death Harry is Dexter’s super-ego, like the spirit of Hamlet’s father stalking the son who has strayed from his almost blunted purpose. Dexter even feels a measure of empathy for the family-abusing serial killer Trinity, and his pitiable family.

  That’s a significant clue. Dexter despises injustice and victimization so much that he’s driven to exterminate murderers, and to inform them that they have so victimized others that they deserve to die. For a person so out of tune with others, Dexter isn’t bereft of empathy. He’s so empathic about innocent suffering that he needs to punish predators and make them languish in terror before their imminent dismemberment. Dexter’s suffering when he witnesses persecution actually raises an important psychological and philosophical question about morality and our own needs to punish: how much of our convictions of right, wrong, justice, and punishment are related to an inner anxiety about innocence and victimization?

  Truly, most of us aren’t serial killers, but Dexter is a fantasy about the demons that lurk within not only mass murderers, but perhaps us as well. The fantasy of the vigilante or angel of death is one that resonates with us, as viewers and voyeurs, as those who participate vicariously in punishing the wicked, as we identify with the rage and violence of the killer even if we would never allow ourselves the exquisite pleasure of torturing and vivisecting someone who really deserves it. We can luxuriate in vicarious bloodshed but find murder terrifying and loathsome, until we hear that some vile enemy despises everything we stand for, and then it’s permissible (or our patriotic, solemn duty) to massacre them. There’s a fabulous episode of Futurama where a conscripted soldier asks what they are dying for, and the smug yutz of a commander tells them “They stand for everything you don’t stand for. Plus they said you guys look like dorks!”

  That’s facile, to be sure, but some odd 14,600 wars in human history, the propaganda, rhetoric, and clichés of warfare, the ongoing senseless massacres, the ease with which people can come to stereotype and despise “them” as despicable, demonstrate how susceptible we are to falling into rife hatred of people we don’t even know. As much as Dexter is the case of a unique killer so vastly different from ourselves, the irony is that it’s easy to get ordinary civilized people who deplore murder to accept the slaughter of countless innocent civilians, if they are demonized as evil.

  This is why the philosopher Hannah Arendt explored “the banality of evil,” the way ordinary human beings can perpetrate acts of immense cruelty or injustice so long as the society deems such behavior acceptable. The banality of evil illustrates how such ordinary citizens can participate in Nazi genocide, or for that matter, be so terrified by vague images of inhuman enemies that we can believe that torture camps and mass exterminations are a good thing. This is why thinkers from Plato to Ernest Becker could say that most of the evil and bloodshed in history is actually intended to eradicate evil, to do the right thing. That’s a very dark secret about our humanity. We are not mass murderers, and yet when socially sanctioned, so many of us can become vicious killers and blot out conscious emp
athy for innocent victims.

  And this is the genius of Dexter: it explores that part of us that can be seduced into murder, the part that becomes outraged by injustice and victimization but can so easily slip into punishing and victimizing others. It explores our needs to slake our thirst for blood. And the show does not merely pretend that malice is aberrant genes or even human nature (whatever that is); we are given clues that tell us what experiences guide us toward slaughter. Dexter’s experiences are horribly atypical, yet they illustrate the human wounds and abscesses that enable us to resonate with his story, with messages of death, the seductions of murder, and the narrative ploys we use to make murder seem righteous.

  The Void, Dread, and Murder

  The very first episode gives us clues about Dexter’s yearning for slaughter. There are breadcrumbs from the opening moments that lead us to the profound psychological crises of murderers, the trauma and cataclysms that massacre their souls and set them upon quests to kill. One of these clues is the cavernous void inside Dexter. He repeatedly says that he feels empty inside. Not just unemotional, but empty. There’s something missing, a hollow that he feels, as though something had been surgically removed, as if he should be filled with something and is ever feeling that space inside him. From Episode 1, Dexter tells us about the void within himself, a void that we gradually come to understand when we learn the tragedy of his own life.