Dexter Morgan is among the greatest 'lonely' characters in fiction, up there with Don Fabrizio, Robinson Crusoe and Miss Havisham. Each is lonely in a different way, of course. Crusoe is shipwrecked on a desert island, and so is forced into loneliness; but it is through his solitude that he becomes the most virtuous of the three. Miss Havisham, as a consequence of trauma, becomes a horribly lonely figure who nevertheless has found the means to inflict much harm. Don Fabrizio is most often in company; as a prince, his life is by necessity a social one. But the moments he seems to most cherish are when he indulges his own fancy. When he lies on death bed, he reflects that most of his life was wasted on the tedium of his social role. He very much embodies the cliche of feeling 'lonely in a crowd'.
Dexter is most like Don Fabrizio in that he is someone whose life is a something of mirage, who feels his real self, as it were, exists in another life hidden to nearly everyone. Except Dexter's other life does not involve activities as mild as astronomy, shooting game or even (for the most part) copulating with mistresses. Dexter is a serial killer. Like Miss Havisham, a single traumatic event infected him with a 'darkness' (his term), and he has since then lived his life in the unending shadow of that moment.
The thing about Dexter, though, is that one always feels ambiguous about him. He even feels ambiguous about himself. He describes a need to kill, a 'dark passenger'. But it matters to him that only kills the 'right' people. His father, who quickly became aware of his son's psychopathy, taught him a code: Dexter will only kill those who deserve it. That is, he only kills (other) serial killers. All the while he maintains an ostensibly normal life working as a forensic expert at Miami Metro. He has a sister, for whom he genuinely seems to have affection. He wonders whether his affection is selfish in origin -- but this is something many of us wonder ourselves, to what extent our love is selfless. He also marries; the marriage was initially a cover, a normal life to help conceal his murders, but soon both we and he start to wonder if it is more than that. Eventually he has a child, whom it is clear he unambiguously loves. Later on, after the death of his wife, he even finds a woman who really is, for good or ill, the perfect woman for him. Indeed, over the course of the eight series of the programme one becomes conflicted about this most prolific of serial killers. After all, the only people he kills thoroughly deserve it, right? And isn't he such a caring father, brother and spouse? Isn't he clearly trying to overcome his own 'darkness'?
The programme tests one's morality. There is no doubt in my mind, intellectually at least, that Dexter deserved to face a court of law and be sentenced to death. Yet were I acquainted with Dexter and aware of his activities I would have hesitated to turn him in. My unwillingness would not be out of fear; I would not be able to do it because I rather like him. And not merely do I like him but I even 'relate' to him. I suspect many honest, thoughtful viewers do too. We all have a darkness, hidden evils, which we sometimes desperately struggle with. I certainly struggle with a melancholy, which can turn into devastating weakness and apathy, which I'm sure, in certain circumstances, would have the power to drag other people down to hellish levels. We all adopt external lives that are in part merely to get along. And we introverts (as psychobabblers call us) know how much life can feel like an act, and how much we can exist in our head, feeling misunderstood. Dangerously we ask ourselves, are we really that different from Dexter?
What does it mean that we empathise with Dexter? He is a monster, yet at the same time he is so human, capable of such love, but whose good instincts seem to be all perverted towards the wrong end. (This I think explains the universally hated ending, which I won't spoil, in which Dexter tries to do the right thing, but does it in entirely the wrong way and with the worst possible outcome.) I fear that one reason why audiences are so taken with him is because the modern doctrine of 'embrace who you are' features so strongly in our morality. He can't help it, we say to ourselves -- or more radically, he is merely 'different' -- and so we empathise with him.
Dexter is most like Don Fabrizio in that he is someone whose life is a something of mirage, who feels his real self, as it were, exists in another life hidden to nearly everyone. Except Dexter's other life does not involve activities as mild as astronomy, shooting game or even (for the most part) copulating with mistresses. Dexter is a serial killer. Like Miss Havisham, a single traumatic event infected him with a 'darkness' (his term), and he has since then lived his life in the unending shadow of that moment.
The thing about Dexter, though, is that one always feels ambiguous about him. He even feels ambiguous about himself. He describes a need to kill, a 'dark passenger'. But it matters to him that only kills the 'right' people. His father, who quickly became aware of his son's psychopathy, taught him a code: Dexter will only kill those who deserve it. That is, he only kills (other) serial killers. All the while he maintains an ostensibly normal life working as a forensic expert at Miami Metro. He has a sister, for whom he genuinely seems to have affection. He wonders whether his affection is selfish in origin -- but this is something many of us wonder ourselves, to what extent our love is selfless. He also marries; the marriage was initially a cover, a normal life to help conceal his murders, but soon both we and he start to wonder if it is more than that. Eventually he has a child, whom it is clear he unambiguously loves. Later on, after the death of his wife, he even finds a woman who really is, for good or ill, the perfect woman for him. Indeed, over the course of the eight series of the programme one becomes conflicted about this most prolific of serial killers. After all, the only people he kills thoroughly deserve it, right? And isn't he such a caring father, brother and spouse? Isn't he clearly trying to overcome his own 'darkness'?
The programme tests one's morality. There is no doubt in my mind, intellectually at least, that Dexter deserved to face a court of law and be sentenced to death. Yet were I acquainted with Dexter and aware of his activities I would have hesitated to turn him in. My unwillingness would not be out of fear; I would not be able to do it because I rather like him. And not merely do I like him but I even 'relate' to him. I suspect many honest, thoughtful viewers do too. We all have a darkness, hidden evils, which we sometimes desperately struggle with. I certainly struggle with a melancholy, which can turn into devastating weakness and apathy, which I'm sure, in certain circumstances, would have the power to drag other people down to hellish levels. We all adopt external lives that are in part merely to get along. And we introverts (as psychobabblers call us) know how much life can feel like an act, and how much we can exist in our head, feeling misunderstood. Dangerously we ask ourselves, are we really that different from Dexter?
What does it mean that we empathise with Dexter? He is a monster, yet at the same time he is so human, capable of such love, but whose good instincts seem to be all perverted towards the wrong end. (This I think explains the universally hated ending, which I won't spoil, in which Dexter tries to do the right thing, but does it in entirely the wrong way and with the worst possible outcome.) I fear that one reason why audiences are so taken with him is because the modern doctrine of 'embrace who you are' features so strongly in our morality. He can't help it, we say to ourselves -- or more radically, he is merely 'different' -- and so we empathise with him.
It is an immoral TV series. Some people watching it could easily believe that the morality of Dexter is true. The one moment when Dexter seems to change, when he has someone tied up ready to be killed, he realises that he does not need to kill and so leaves the victim for the police to arrest. The victim certainly, following Dexter's code, deserves death, but Dexter, it then appears, transcends the pseudo-morality of the code. He tries instead to do the right thing by turning him over to the police. But all goes wrong: the victim manages to escape and kills someone close to Dexter. Doing the right thing does not necessarily result in better outcomes than doing the wrong thing. This is the problem with utilitarianism -- it is also the problem with Dexter's code. Maybe, if added it up on a spreadsheet, the world would be a better place with a handful of Dexters in it, but spreadsheets, calculations and studies are not adequate methods for determining values of morality and justice.
I somewhat worry that a programme like this is watched by so many, and as entertainment -- a thrill, a dark fantasy. Ideas and stories are dangerous. The show makes you fond of murderers. It does so in an intelligent and I believe useful way. But the idea that fourteen year-olds are watching this, or even just people without the necessary philosophical or moral backbone is rather unnerving. In a society of such relativism, where we are able to turn genuinely sinister freaks into virtuous dissidents, I worry that Dexter, the 'misunderstood' sociopathic outcast, is an all-too sympathetic -- even admirable -- figure for many.
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