In January 1992, President George H.W. Bush — who at the time was running for reelection — stated: “We are going to keep on trying to strengthen the American family, to make American families a lot more like the Waltons and a lot less like the Simpsons.” The comment drew a quick response from Bart Simpson himself, in his trademark rebel attitude, joking that his family was awaiting the end of economic hard times, just like the Waltons.
From the beginning, The Simpsons has had a decidedly liberal slant in terms of how it sees social and cultural issues, while at the same time also affecting, to some degree, how viewers see these same issues, since the show is such an icon. Look at Mr. Burns and Principal Skinner for prime examples of the show’s perspective on “old-fashioned”: Burns embodies the empty values and morals of the greedy tycoon, while Skinner’s attitude toward education embodies an era now mostly remembered by the Baby Boomer generation (and this provides a perfect foil for Bart to rebel against). On top of this, Matt Groening himself, the show’s creator, has made his liberal beliefs clear, and while he no longer is the most important voice on the show, he never set out to hire conservative replacements.
When the show itself aired, its very existence embodied a punk sensibility, even if no one at the time would have phrased it that way. Cartoons aimed at adults go much further back than The Simpsons, and the most commonly-cited precedent for what the show tried to do is The Flintstones. However, (1) there had been few attempts to make adult-oriented animated content in decades, and (2) because of the early-1960s time frame of when The Flintstones was made, its ability to push the envelope was restricted in a way that The Simpsons’ never was. In fact, The Simpsons was part of a lineup chosen by the newly-founded FOX network specifically to make a mark quickly and effectively, because gaining viewers was paramount to success for a new broadcast channel taking on the Big Three of ABC, CBS, and NBC.
Thanks to the example set by The Simpsons, a punk-like redefiner of TV, all subsequent adult-oriented animated TV shows have its DNA in their veins, from Family Guy to Archer to BoJack Horseman. The heights it was able to achieve during its golden age, when it became the inspiration for those aforementioned shows, have provided the fumes it’s driven on for over two decades now.
So, with all that, how can I possibly call The Simpsons a conservative show?
Floating Timelines and Toxic Familiarity
Let’s all make ourselves feel old for a minute: the first episode of The Simpsons, “Simpsons Roasting on an Open Fire,” premiered December 17, 1989 (we won’t be counting the shorts from The Tracey Ullman Show as part of the series). For ease, let’s place January 1990 as the “start date” of the show, since it makes the math easier and is so close to the premiere date. Assuming Bart turns 10 that same month (he’s stated to be 10 years old), then as of this publication he’d be 43 years old, approaching 44. Homer would be hovering around 70 (one source places his birth year as 1956, but 33–34 seems a bit young for his appearance in the first episode).
I don’t know what drains from the nuclear power plant into their water, but whatever it is could be sold as an “Immortality Elixir,” since these characters haven’t aged a day. Mr. Burns should certainly get on that money train. (We also know that each season takes place about in the year it’s produced, based on pop-culture references, guest stars, and the technology seen on the show.)
This whole concept of having every season of an animated show take place in an unspecified year is called a “floating timeline.” We can divide this concept into two subtypes: vague-year and current-year.
Vague-Year Floating Timelines: “Archer”
The best example I can think of regarding this type is Archer, a show that intentionally obscures the year(s) in which it takes place. As a spy thriller, the show draws a lot of influence from Cold-War media like James Bond, as well as aesthetics. If it kept itself to just that, it would be easy to place it in the 1970s or 1980s. However, the show also sports technology like modern-ish cell phones and references to post-1980s events and popular culture.
If one were trying to place Archer in an approximate year, they could try to take all the varying elements and references to cobble something like a vague estimate. Based on known events, like Mallory Archer’s World War II service, the existence of the Soviet Union, Sterling Archer’s age in the pilot episode, and the fact that Kenny Loggins still looks young in his guest appearance for “Archer Vice: Baby Shower,” I’d say the early seasons take place around the late 1980s.
But that’s irrelevant, and the fact that I spent so much time putting that together shows that I’ve missed the point entirely. The whole reason Archer uses a vague-year floating timeline is so that it can draw from whatever it wants, time-wise, and not violate a clearly-established continuity. You will never be able to definitively establish in what year the show takes place, and that’s by design.
However, Archer as a show has allowed its characters to undergo character arcs over its run. (Skip to next paragraph to avoid minor spoilers for the show.) This can be seen with Cyril and Pam becoming field agents in season 3, Lana becoming a mother, Archer realizing how much Lana means to him, and Barry slowly experiencing a redemption arc.
The fact that some of those changes start as early as the third season show that Archer always intended on having its characters change, even if it didn’t know from the beginning what that would exactly entail.
In short, Archer uses a vague-year floating timeline to benefit both its comedy and its characters, providing a sterling example (pun intended) of this concept’s benefits.
Current-Year Floating Timelines: “The Simpsons”
In a current-year floating timeline, the characters don’t age and continuity between seasons, and even between episodes, is secondary to the plot of any given episode, although elements of continuity are often retained. The main purpose is to allow a show to tell new stories which are more relevant to current audiences while not having to change elements that are core to the show’s appeal. This is how you get a Homer Simpson who in 2023 is about the same age in the show as someone who in real life was Bart’s age when the show began.
There is one narrative benefit to this method that I want to point out: it allows for the same characters to confront different situations over the course of time. It’s almost like a scientific experiment, where we test to get an answer to: “How would Homer react to _____?”, where the blank is the independent variable and Homer’s reaction is the dependent variable. It allows a show to change with its times while reflecting those changes through character actions as opposed to character growth.
Its current-year floating timeline is also what makes The Simpsons a conservative show.
Merriam-Webster defines conservative as (1) “of or relating to a philosophy of conservatism” in the political realm, (2) “tending or disposed to maintain existing views, conditions, or institutions,” (3) “marked by or relating to traditional norms of taste, elegance, style, or manners,” among other definitions.
I think we can safely eliminate The Simpsons belonging to category 1, based on what was discussed regarding its political orientation. Likewise, I think we can eliminate category 3; even in its latest seasons, the show has never been one to go for traditional taste, elegance, style, or manners.
However, category 2 is a different story. In fact, it seems that all current-year floating timeline shows fall under this category.
We have to ask ourselves: why do shows like The Simpsons refuse to allow their characters to age? Short and simple answers to this question may include:
- It’s easier on the cast, especially the ones who voice the children, and writers, especially new ones, who can more easily adjust to the writing process if it’s the same characters year after year.
- The appeal of the show comes from these characters at the present moment; who knows if people will still watch if these characters slowly age?
- Etc.
Animation allows for characters to remain the same in terms of appearance, but it doesn’t mandate that this be the case. Regardless of the reasons stated, The Simpsons and shows like it keep as much as they can the same, while changing only what they believe is necessary to keep viewers watching. There is no overarching story to the show; it is an episode-by-episode series that, for a half-hour, allows viewers to escape their real lives and spend time with America’s most consistent family. This is toxic familiarity, an unwillingness to leave a known comfort zone despite all evidence that staying there is unhealthy.
The Simpsons does not want to change, at least not in the way live-action shows must change. Whereas the second-longest-running scripted show, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, still retains its brand, it cannot avoid the fact that its actors have aged, especially Mariska Hargitay, who’s been with the show since the pilot episode in 1999. (Ice T joined in 2000, at the start of Season 2.)
But, then, what’s the problem with it retaining this philosophy? On its surface, nothing. The difference with The Simpsons is its longevity; despite being on the air since the Berlin Wall was still standing, it has not allowed its characters to change or age. They have been stuck in a unique hell wherein immortality is granted at the price of being confined to the same age forever. Imagine being on the cusp of puberty forever. Imagine being a child genius who always pictures her future success but can never experience it herself. Imagine living as a literal baby for 34 years. (Actually, maybe that last one doesn’t sound too bad, considering how stressful being a non-baby human can be.)
This is all the result of the aforementioned toxic familiarity. Because the show doesn’t have to change. It’s been the cash cow for its owners since day 1, and has already gone down as the most successful animated TV show of all time, as well as one of the most successful TV shows in general. It’s never had to face the challenge of changing demographics because it’s been guaranteed renewal for more than two decades, if not three.
But the world changes. As The Simpsons keeps to its conservative mindset of only changing what it absolutely must to remain approachable, it becomes less and less relevant, because its core formula remains. Like soap operas and superhero comics, at the end of the day the status quo is either changed back to normal or a status quo reversion to normal is always just a secret twin or a clone away. The formula that propelled The Simpsons to glory is now a crutch, and their reliance is dragging the show into emptiness.
Here’s what you do: have one extra-long final season of the show, where episode one starts off with them all the same age, but it takes place back in 1990. Every subsequent episode then takes place about one year later. You can tell a season-long story about how the characters in the original season would experience the next 34 years. Then, as a finale, let them ride off into the figurative (or maybe literal) sunset; allow the world to say goodbye to these icons in a dignified way, as they move on and we do, too.
It’s that, or wait until the show becomes so irrelevant that cancellation is inevitable.
