When former Vice-President Quayle criticized the television show “Murphy Brown” for depicting what he deems the problem with America today—a restructuring of family and its values—he touched off a tremendous debate. Suddenly, the words “family values” became part of daily conversation: some people used them as if a universal definition had long since been established. Others contended that the interpretation is situational and varies with each family. Discussion ranged from the absurd to the serious, finding its way into late night comedy shows as well as newspapers and magazines. Television’s role in shaping and portraying American families came under critical scrutiny by liberals and conservatives alike.

In an interview with Stephanie Coontz, Peggy Taylor states, “From cliches such as ‘A man’s home is his castle’ to political rhetoric about the lost ‘traditional’ families of years past to scenes of domestic perfection exhibited by the TV Cleavers, Bradys, and Huxtables, we have been indoctrinated with images of a family life that has never existed and that—despite the longings of some politicians—could not be lived by real people today” (New Age Journal, “The Way We Were,” Sept/Oct, 1992, 64-66).

My generation grew up with shows such as “Leave it to Beaver,” “Little House on the Prairie,” and “The Brady Bunch.” Each of these programs is conspicuous in its conception of family life as something which is intrinsically moral (and of the Judeo-Christian persuasion). Each revolves around the individual who “wears the pants” in the family (hint: Mrs. Ingalls wears petticoats); and in which the dress wearer owes the rest of the members of the family three hot, square meals a day. Whether these shows describe or reflect reality or not, their constant moralizing at least evidences a strong prescription for how to achieve the wholesome American family.

What then, of current broadcasting? Consider the situation comedy “Married With Children,” where the members spend the majority of their time exploiting one another (financially and otherwise), making insulting wisecracks, and sitting on the tacky couch in the living room (dying room, maybe?) swilling beer and watching TV. One might hope that this is not so much a reflection of our society as it is a result of oversaturation with the piety and make-believe of former sitcoms.

Whatever the case, “Married, With Children” remains televised, obviously satisfying certain audience demands. Which demands might these be? One possibility is that it targets those who are very unlike the Bundy family and who enjoy laughing with contempt about this difference. Another is that there are individuals who sincerely identify with the characters, who would really enjoy telling members of their family off the way that the Bundys do on a regular basis.

For example, at a party, Peg Bundy (wife and mother) went down a line of not-so-good-looking men, telling each of them, “You are who I think of when I have sex with my husband.” She was about to utter this same “romantic” phrase to the back of another man’s head when it turned around and was her husband, and in mid-sentence she course-corrected saying, “You are who I think of…when I clean the floor around the base of the toilet.”

These two possibilities—the satisfaction of feeling better than the Bundys and the enjoyment of living vicariously through them—would allow us refuge from the unpleasant prospect that we are being depicted. It appears, however, that the joke’s on us. Strange, but Dan Quayle got it (sort of) right, after all. Television has moved away from hyper-didacticism toward uninhibited vulgarity, the question is whether or not we all shall move with it. 

Unwittingly, Mr. Quayle opened up a large-scale debate because he made us consider the relationship between what we see and who we are. It reminds me of a certain quintessential dilemma…but where the “chicken and egg” conundrum appears unsolvable, there always remains the unequivocal element of self-perpetuation, regardless of what came first.