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Dexter and Philosophy

Page 24

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


  Dexter’s interpersonal mis-steps are at worst only a slight exaggeration of hackneyed stereotypical situations: the male who doesn’t understand what women are feeling, the non-macho male who doesn’t quite know how to make macho talk, the person at the funeral whose mind is on matters other than grief. Often he is socially awkward because he doesn’t know what feelings it is conventionally appropriate to display in certain situations.

  One of the first things Dexter tells us in the first episode of Season 1 is: “It has to happen.” He has to kill, he has no self-control, his Dark Passenger must seize the reins. And in that first episode we see Dexter and Harry’s conversation, in which Harry explains why Dexter must follow the Code. One of the remarkable things about this conversation is that Harry doesn’t merely deliver the Code: he assures Dexter that his urge to kill cannot be cured, that he’s fated to be a killer. Dexter is puzzled and wonders if possibly he might be able to change, but Harry nixes that one. And it’s little Dexter, not Harry, who comes up with some semblance of an ethical rationale for Harry’s Code: “They deserve it.”

  Why is Harry so certain that Dexter can’t recover? Remember that at this point Dexter has not yet physically harmed any human person. He kills a dog because it is keeping his seriously ill stepmother awake at night. Harry’s an intelligent cop but he doesn’t look like the type who would spend his spare time keeping up with the latest research into childhood development, and if he did, he would have come to a different conclusion anyway. As an infant, Dexter saw his mother cut to pieces in front of his eyes, and we’re expected to suppose that this is what turned him into a serial killer governed by an involuntary compulsion. The plain fact, of course, is that most serial killers did not have extreme childhood traumas and most people who do suffer such traumas don’t go on to become serial killers. At the age of three, seeing your mother horribly slain and then sitting for a couple of days in the pool of her blood is going to be upsetting, and your school grades will probably suffer, but it simply will not make you a serial killer.

  And when Dexter does begin killing humans, it’s on the direct orders of Harry. Dexter has done nothing to commence a career killing humans, and is horrified when Harry instructs him to kill Nurse Mary, who makes a practice of killing her patients with drugs and is now trying to kill Harry. Dexter is appalled and resistant, but Harry firmly insists (“Popping Cherry,” Season 1). Harry makes it seem that killing Nurse Mary is necessary to save his life, but instead the police could have been informed of what she was up to, and she would have been suspended pending an investigation. Or Harry could simply have moved to another hospital (surely Miami police health benefits would run to that). However Harry has determined that Dexter must take the step of killing his first human. Harry quite deliberately sets Dexter on his path as a serial killer, while without Harry’s pro-active intervention, there’s no guarantee that Dexter would ever have slain or physically hurt a human.

  So while we keep being fed the line that Dexter is a predetermined killer and that Harry gives him the Code which guides and constrains his killing, the facts of the narrative tell us that Harry both gives Dexter the Code and deliberately turns him into a killer. What’s Harry’s motive? We know that Harry the cop was breaking departmental rules by having sex with Dexter’s mother, the CI (confidential informant) up to the time when she was brutally slain. Further dot-connecting is scarcely necessary. There’s somthing poisonous about Harry.

  Like many people, Dexter has bought the theory that he’s subject to an irresistible compulsion. Since he firmly believes that, he doesn’t seriously try to fight it. When he lays off killing for a few weeks, he gets irritable and concludes that he can’t do without it. But of course he can. He just has to persist for a few more weeks or months—if he really wants to kick the habit. Then the urge will die down and become easier to control. Addiction is always a choice.

  But maybe he doesn’t want to kick the habit just yet. Maybe he’s having too much fun. We certainly are.

  18

  You Hurt Her, You Hurt Me

  EVERITT FOSTER

  Season 1 of Dexter is about the struggle between Dexter’s love for his adoptive family, Harry and Debra Morgan, and his biological brother Brian Moser. The story broaches many topics people deal with on a day-to-day basis, though in far more dramatic and extreme ways.

  We can understand Dexter’s psychological and sexual evolution over the course of the first season with the help of the French philosopher Michel Foucault, especially his History of Sexuality. Foucault can help reveal how we reach a sort of completeness in our lives, and an understanding of not just how, but why, our families function in the twenty-first century.

  For Foucault sex, power, and knowledge are three inextricably linked aspects of the human experience. Power as expressed through sex, is a means to knowledge, and knowledge is the key to understanding who we are. This connection makes is possible to use Foucault’s philosophy to understand the root of Dexter’s “Dark Passenger” and how his search for a family and normalcy (as contemporary Americans understand the term) is rooted in sex.

  Why Does Dexter Need a Family if Blood Is His Life?

  If sexuality is the very essence of our being, indicative of our soul, then Dexter’s initial apathy towards sex (he describes it as being “so . . . undignified”) is easy to understand. And if sexuality is a key to understanding someone’s psychology then Dexter is in danger of being exposed as a killer if others realize his personal life is a little unorthodox.

  When we’re first introduced to Rita, Dexter describes her as being “perfect” because she is “in her own way, as damaged as me” (“Dexter,” Season 1). Because she’s been horribly traumatized after her soon-to-be ex-husband Paul beat and raped her in front of her children, she developed an aversion to sex, which suits Dexter just fine. As he explains, every time he gets close to a woman and makes himself vulnerable she sees through his mask forcing him to move on. Because of her past, Dexter is free to maintain the façade of what he believes to be a typical relationship without risking the exposure that comes through intimacy.

  Dexter’s Awkward Sexual Advances

  In The History of Sexuality, Foucault uses the concept of “deployment” to substantiate his repressive hypothesis. He divides society into spheres, calling one the “deployment of alliance” and the other the “deployment of sexuality.” The deployment of alliance ties individuals together via kinship bonds, blood relations, ancestry and family, ultimately arrives at a sort of consensual social law. The deployment of sexuality helps individuals understand the changing social standards (including standards of sexual pleasure) around them. In a way, this is Foucault’s reply to Freud’s claim that sex is a function of biology.

  For Foucault, the family helps nurture sexuality. It’s nurture, not nature that dictates our understanding of pleasure and power. The deployment of alliance and the deployment of sexuality really only meet in the context of family, culminating in an intuitive understanding of love. In the Morgan family, for example, Harry’s so preoccupied with Dexter’s training that he fails to realize his adoptive son is more than just a killer, and leaves his biological daughter Debra feeling neglected and unimportant in her father’s eyes, resulting in her own relationship problems.

  As Season 1 progresses, Rita begins to feel comfortable enough with Dexter to want sex. At first this is because she’s afraid of losing “the one truly decent man in Miami” but later it is because she is a sexual being who wants to express her love for him. Dexter, being the ethical yet socially stunted serial killer that he is, begins to worry about how to deal with Rita’s advances. When most people encounter relationship problems, they can rely on their “deployment of alliances” for support. Dexter has Debra and some of the guys of Miami Metro, specifically family oriented Angel Batista and resident pervert Vince Masuka.

  In the presence of Debra, Dexter appears to be a protective brother by doing everything from checking out her boyfriends to lending as
sistance in getting out of Vice and into Homicide; in short being the one guy who has never let her down. To Vince, Dexter is a fellow geek and someone he can brag about sex with after Dexter announces Rita gave him oral sex while dressed as Lara Croft. To Angel he is a shoulder to lean on when we learn Angel’s wife left him. And it’s Angel who, though obviously no better at romance than Dexter, he has no qualms about advising Dex to learn to “reciprocate” when Rita wants, you know, something . . . more. Dexter tries, but proves himself to be arguably the most sexually inept man in America when he tries to give Rita something . . . more . . . as she is crying and watching a DVD of Terms of Endearment. When Dex attempts to “reciprocate,” he is affirming his sexuality and illustrating Foucault’s point about how these spheres intersect (if comically, in this case).

  Focusing on the relationship between Dexter and the Bennetts helps us understand what Foucault meant by the interplay between the deployment of alliance and sexuality. In entering a platonic, though potentially romantic, relationship with Rita, even as a mask, Dex inherited a pre-made family and settled into the “human bonds” that came with it. By showing the kids a kind of fatherly love, the Bennetts begin to nurture Dexter in return.” Thus the family, even if it is not biological, forms the basis of his sexual identity and ultimately defines Dexter’s soul. As the season progresses we understand how this surrogate family has really come to mean everything to him and in fact actually gives his life meaning and direction that his adoptive family did not. It also forms the foundation for the inevitable choice Dexter will have to make: is he Dexter Morgan or is he Dexter Moser? In other words, Dexter no longer needed to fake a life when a real one had evolved from the cover. The really interesting question then is, how did he decide which life was more important?

  Sex, Power, and Knowing Thyself

  Another important concept from Foucault’s History of Sexuality that plays out in Dexter is “the spirals of power and pleasure.” Foucault uses this idea to reveal how sex and power are connected. It’s all about the relationship between observer and observed. When the two objects (in this case people, Dexter, Rita, Rudy/Brian, and others) engage each other by openly discussing their sex lives, they become connected in a search for knowledge. The unspoken goal is to gain power over oneself by knowing others. To be more precise, Dexter as observer increases his power by examining a subject, “drawing out its sexual pleasure” and, in turn, increasing his own power. By highlighting the observed object’s pleasure, the observer actually increases those pleasures.

  Foucault’s knowledge-power paradigm is based upon several basic notions. First, power and knowledge are “always connected.” Second, power changes over time. And third, discourse connects knowledge and power. Dexter seems aware of at least part of this, too. As the investigation progresses, he realizes the relationship between he and Rita has changed him. “My days are numbered,” he says after nearly being caught at a crime scene, “so I better make the most of what I have left.”

  On some level, Dexter realizes that the discourse between himself and the objects he observes is really a power struggle. The more he knows, the more power he has. But conversely the more he observes, the more power he grants to those who observe him.

  Two moments connect Dexter’s new knowledge to Foucault’s “spiral of power and pleasure.” The first comes when Dexter is about to kill a couple who have been extorting and murdering Cuban refugees (“Love American Style,” Season 1). As Jorge and Valerie Castillo are about to die, their last thoughts and words to each other are, “I love you baby!” and “I love you so much!” Dexter pauses and asks, “How do you make it work?” Their answer, “We want the same things,” provides him with some insight into both his life and his relationship with Rita (but he doesn’t desist from slaying the couple. Hey, he’s still a killer).

  The second happens when Dexter reveals to the young killer Jeremy Downs (“Popping Cherry,” Season 1) how he finally managed to feel “less bottomless.” For fans to believe the transformation is genuine and to make the psychological choice between Moser and Morgan seem truthful and logical, it is necessary to reveal a crucial piece of Dexter’s newly developed self-awareness. “Pretend,” he says. “You pretend the feelings are there for the world, and for the people around you. Who knows, maybe one day they will be.”

  While the audience has already seen Dexter’s capacity for humanity, he still seems to doubt that it is present within himself. Dexter is still not sure of who he is. If the hero lacks self-knowledge, then the modern solution is therapy, which, as Foucault suggests, is just another aspect of the transformation of sex into discourse. People talk about sex instead of doing it. It is the increasingly accepted method by which we subjects exercise control over ourselves.

  In his session with Dexter, Dr. Emmett Meridian (“Shrink Wrap,” Season 1) attempts to broach Dexter’s sex life, a topic Dexter simply turns around on his psychiatrist in “an attempt to take control of the situation” because he has trouble letting others get close. When Rita gains more inner strength and self-assurance stemming from taking control of the situation with Paul, she becomes more sexually assertive. Dexter rebuffs her advances fearing that he will lose her. Really though, Dexter is afraid of losing power in their relationship. If knowledge is power and she has carnal knowledge of him, it follows that Rita will have control over Dexter, and he will have to relinquish some of the control he needs to exercise to keep his mask in place.

  Meridian knows that Dexter has been living a dishonest life (though he is clearly unaware of the killer’s intentions) and attempts to bring him back to a point where he first felt powerless. Dexter’s life has been about being a Morgan. But this identity was superimposed on a boy found in a shipping container sitting in a pool of blood. Harry Morgan was not only Dexter’s father, he was his maker.

  To know who he is, Dexter must relinquish some of the power he has. This happens precisely when Dex and Rita finally consummate their relationship, just moments after the traumatic revelation of the boy in the blood and the origin of the dark passenger is revealed.

  It seems unlikely that this juxtaposition of blood and sex is simply a coincidence. For Foucault, there is a long, historical relationship between blood, power, and sex. What he called the “right of death” had been historically exercised over a population by ruling classes and kings. The specific method of killing is usually some combination of war and justice, but in both instances blood and power are linked via death. It’s no surprise that after seeing the boy in the blood, and after having sex with Rita, Dexter is able to confess who he is for the first time. In giving up some power, Dexter was able to gain control over other parts of his life and confess (albeit to the doomed psychiatrist) who he is.

  Morgan or Moser?

  Throughout Dexter’s story, identity and power are exercised through sex. Just as Dexter seems to be comfortable with acknowledging who he is, those around him start to wonder who he really is. A man named Joe Driscoll from Dade City, claiming to be his biological father, deeds him a house. As Dexter delves into Driscoll’s life, old memories re-emerge and the long held deployment of alliance centered on the Morgan family is thrown into question, especially when Debra introduces her boyfriend “Rudy” (really Brian Moser, the Ice Truck Killer) to her brother.

  In Foucault’s philosophy of sexuality the relationship between observer and observed leads to knowledge and ultimately to power and control. So as Dexter explores his life before Harry, Deb begins to question where she fits in his alliance. She wants to exert power to keep what is left of her family intact; while Rudy exerts power (based on his knowledge of Dexter’s past) in an attempt to reassemble the family he was denied.

  When Debra learns that Dexter sent Vince material for a DNA test, she confronts him, angry and hurt. They learn that Harry lied to them about Dexter’s father being dead. Dexter tries to reassure his sister that he isn’t questioning Harry’s motives, but he just had to know the circumstances of Driscoll’s death. Debra i
s hurt by her brother’s search for knowledge because to her it implies that if he can question their dad, perhaps he can start questioning what she means to him as well. Knowledge is power, a power that might threaten the sanctity and bonds of Dexter’s deployment of alliance.

  While looking at the “thank-you-for-the-good-blood card” that Dexter made for his anonymous blood donor as a kid, it occurs to him that, “I had a father, someone other than Harry who called me son. The thought never even occurred to me. . . . Harry always had the answers. . . . I built my life on Harry’s Code, lived by it. But Harry lied. What else don’t I know? My concrete foundation was shifting, turning to sand.” The only way for Dexter to find out what is missing is to plunge back into the blood bath.

  When a hotel room covered in blood proves too much for Dexter, Deb tries to connect with him. Yet he shuts her out. Though he has attained a certain comfort with his mask, and finds fulfillment in his relationship with Rita, Dexter is still unable to connect with his sister. The solution to the problem can be found in more discourse. In this case it is Deb who reaches out to Dexter to speak with Rudy/Brian on her behalf. This dialogue reveals Dexter’s level of commitment to his sister: “You hurt her, you hurt me.”

 

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