Intro to Wisdom: Exploring the philosophical implications of ‘Calvin and Hobbes’

Let’s talk about childhood. It’s a turbulent way to start your time on this Earth, a period of great discovery and great frustration. Children are always learning new ways of coexisting with the world around them, and a lot of that stems from the media they consume. The implied attitudes and ways of thinking embedded in what kids watch, hear and read can have a significant impact on their development. So, to ease children into critical analysis of their surroundings, why not get them hooked on philosophy young?

“Calvin and Hobbes,” a widely-beloved comic strip by cartoonist Bill Watterson, ran from 1985 to 1995 and details the lives and escapades of a little boy and his stuffed tiger turned imaginary friend. Watterson’s work contains a remarkable amount of philosophical content, which we can even trace back to the name of the strip itself. I wouldn’t be surprised if you recognized the names of our titular duo, as they’re shared by two notable thinkers of the 16th and 17th centuries: John Calvin and Thomas Hobbes. These shared names also parallel the characters’ roles in the strip: cartoon Calvin is an ideological thinker challenging conventions set in place by the institutions in his society (just as John Calvin questioned the Catholic Church), and cartoon Hobbes is a bit more of a realist, critiquing the holes in Calvin’s logic (aligning with Thomas Hobbes’ doubts about the goodness of human nature). 

The philosophical undertones don’t end there, either. Watterson uses the absurd conceits of Calvin’s young mind to bring up meaningful questions. When Calvin clones himself with a cardboard box and then gets in trouble for the actions of his clones, the audience is asked whether one can really be held responsible for the actions of a past self no longer a reflection of the current individual. When Calvin’s unusual-looking snowmen are mocked, he defends himself by claiming that, rather than demonstrating a “soulless banality … appealing to popular nostalgia” as a standard snowman would, his creations “transcend corporeal likeness to express deeper truths about the human condition.”

The tension that consumerism leaves in the strip contributes to some transcendentalist motifs as well. Though he is occasionally quite the cultural critic, Calvin is still a reflection of his time. He has that need to consume, whether it be Saturday morning cartoons, sugar cereal or gift shop memorabilia. But when his desires are fulfilled, they often leave him feeling hollow. He spends weeks waiting for a propeller hat in the mail, only to have it break immediately and fail to work as intended when fixed. The happiest we see Calvin is in nature, leaving behind the societal institutions constraining him. It is during his walks along creeks and through the snow that Calvin begins asking questions about the subjectivity of time and meaning of life. He can think clearly when he exists in the natural world. This transformation is akin to the one that Henry David Thoreau, a notable New England transcendentalist, describes in his 1854 book, “Walden.” Thoreau advocated for separating from human-devised institutions and existing primarily in nature to achieve one’s fullest potential. He attempted to cultivate self-reliance, isolation and simplicity at Walden Pond for over two years and, like Calvin, found himself living a clarified and deeper life. Thoreau had this to say about his experiment: “If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.” An appreciation of nature isn’t the only unifying factor here, either. Both Thoreau and Calvin have a history of disobeying institutions, Calvin with his trips to the principal’s office and Thoreau with his urging readers to participate in civil disobedience. 

Naturally, there’s a level of absurdity present in “Calvin and Hobbes” that could lead one to question whether its supposed philosophical musings and social critiques hold any water. But it’s precisely that absurdity that makes “Calvin and Hobbes” such a potent vessel for communicating these ideas. Calvin is a kid, and a lot of the world appears strange to kids. Various institutions and authorities like parents and schools have rules that are difficult to understand and prevent us from acting as we normally would. As we age, the simplest path is to accept those rules without thinking. But there are real, genuine issues and eccentricities of the systems we live in that are useful to be aware of and point out to others. By sneaking challenging questions about the passage of time, the meaning of art and ethical responsibility into a comic strip about a kid learning to exist in the world, Watterson subtly prompts us to reexamine the world around us through a critical lens. 

Allow me to close with my motivation for writing this admittedly very strange article. For a number of years, as a kid around Calvin’s age, I was lonely. The world can be a scary place, as we all know, and I was prone to being overwhelmed by it. I also read quite a bit of “Calvin and Hobbes,” and it gave me a sense of comfort that I find hard to put into words. It critiqued the seeming carelessness of the world while also reminding me that my perceived struggles were equally absurd. And when I saw a beautiful illustration of a snow-covered landscape, I found a sense of peace that I would wish on both my best friend and my worst enemy. 

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