What the Duck? Finding Meaning in the Rise and Fall of a Dynasty

Okay, I admit—I really just wanted to write a blog post with the title “What the Duck?” I actually have never once seen Duck Dynasty, so I don’t have much of an opinion one way or another about the show.

And yet…the news, Twitter, Facebook, and even some members of congress are determined to FORCE me to have an opinion. Hence, I’ve been thinking broadly about this show and it’s downfall why in the duck any of this matters.

This is what I’ve come up with…

First off, Americans want, deep in their hearts, to be unified. Yes, we have differences. Yes, we are a tapestry of wildly different cultures sewn together like a slightly-more-disturbing human centipede. But we desperately want to believe that there are core values that make us whole.

In some ways, there’s nothing more American than a tightly-knit group of people struggling to defend their territory and their lifestyle on the edge of civilization. I always explain America thusly to my non-American friends—we all think we’re cowboys. Because of this, Duck Dynasty (and shows like it) draw us in, and make us feel like we belong, even as we realize the people we are watching are actually very much not like us.

I had this same feeling as a kid when watching Little House on the Prairie. Laura and her family were alone in the wilderness of a Los Angeles filming studio-cum-western-style frontier. Pa was stern, yet always right. Mom was reserved, yet always caring. The kids were good, despite their sometimes mischief. As a kid growing up in a New York City high rise surrounded by bankers and taxis, the vision of life on Little House was addictively compelling.

And yet…on seemingly every episode of that show pa would pull his belt off the wall and head out the door to beat one of his kids.

Now—I know that for many people growing up in the US in the 70′s (and who grew up in the 50s and 60s) this might not have led to any cognitive dissonance. Getting walloped by a well-meaning parent was par for the course and as American as Apple Pie and Freedom.

But in New York City in the 70s, it was already illegal for teachers to use corporal punishment in schools. My parents, for the most part, didn’t believe in hitting kids—and neither did any of their hippie friends.

Smacking kids with belts was wrong. And not just silly, cute, funny, endearing wrong. But Wrong with a capitol W.

So how did I bring together these two disparate facts—that Little House was about everything that was good and right about America, and yet it promoted what I already believed to be child abuse?

I’m not sure I ever did bring those two ideas together in my head. Like the much beloved grandmother who occasionally said things that were racist, or the favorite soccer coach who was a tad homophobic, or the parent you love to death who THINKS ITS OKAY TO TALK DURING MOVIES, you struggle with the fact that you love them, even though they believe in something you can’t agree with.

Well, Duck Dynasty is the same way.

No one in their right mind could have believed Phil supported gay rights. And while I haven’t watched the show, I know how these shows work—they find the most outspoken and crazy people they can and wait for them to self-destruct. The only thing different about Duck Dynasty this week and last week was that this week, Phil said something we all knew he was thinking anyway.

But it still hurts—because we wanted so badly to think he was good people.

I get that. I really do. I wanted Pa Ingalls to be the perfect father. Luckily, my own father has always been flawed enough that I never had to deal with the let down. He was always human to me, and maybe that’s why I idolized Charles Ingalls quite so much.

The truth about America is that it’s not perfect and it’s not cohesive. Our fathers, like our heroes, are flawed—and a lot more deeply than we want to admit to ourselves. To quote Jayne Cobb from Firefly, “Well, there ain’t people like that. There’s only people like me.”

I support A&E’s decision to take Duck Dynasty off the air. Because it was one thing for Pa Ingalls to insinuate corporal punishment was okay or even good, it would have been another for Michael Landon to wallop his own kid while standing in like at the grocery store.

The truth was, people were divided in the 70s on a number of things—the rights of children among them. A show like Little House let us forget for an hour a week.

Duck Dynasty let us believe we were together in the swampy wilderness, fighting for survival and dignity. It allowed us to forget our differences and focus on where we were the same. It allowed us to love our neighbors even though deep inside we knew that we didn’t agree with them.

Phil Robertson didn’t make the mistake of speaking his mind in a world too PC to allow that anymore. He ripped away the happy fantasy we were all enjoying, one where dads are good and noble, and moms are sweet and caring. One where kids respect their parents, even as they get up to light-hearted mischief.

I’m sad that Duck Dynasty fell, actually. I was planning to give it a watch. And the truth is, I want to believe as badly as anyone. Heck, a cynic like me wants to believe worse. That’s probably why so many people who are smart, savvy and should know better are up in arms about Phil Robertson. They’re not just offended, they’re hurt.

Goodbye, Duck Dynasty. For what it’s worth, I’ll always think you were good people. Flawed, yes. But undeniably entertaining. Thanks for being the heroes we needed, if only for a little while.

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