Life lessons from a cartoon horse
What BoJack Horseman can teach us about happiness
If you were making a list of places where you might find deep and meaningful insights into the human condition, a cartoon about an anthropomorphic horse would probably not be your first thought.
Yet this is exactly what BoJack Horseman delivers. It is by turns silly, profound, harrowing and hilarious. One episode consists entirely of a twenty-minute eulogy. Another is almost wholly without dialogue. The penultimate episode of the series is the dream of a dying character; their life flashing before their eyes while they rebel against the finality of death. Creator Raphael Bob-Waksberg was not afraid to experiment, to push the boundaries of what an animated series could be, and the result is a genuinely extraordinary achievement. There is simply nothing else out there like it.
The standard disclaimer to make here is that the show starts slowly. The first few episodes are generally accepted to be nothing special, but everything turns very sharply in the eighth, and after that, the series never looks back. From then on, it becomes one of the greatest television series of all time, warranting every bit of critical acclaim which comes its way.
BoJack Horseman covers many themes over its six seasons; depression, sexuality, trauma, self-destructive behaviour, loneliness, a desire for legacy, and plenty of others. But one common thread running throughout is the quest for happiness.
The titular character - a washed-up former television star - constantly chases external validation in a belief that this will make him happy, whether it be the approval of his peers, the acclamation of the public, or landing his dream acting job.
When he fails, BoJack has a tendency to spiral. In the first season, he learns that his former friend Herb is dying of cancer. Feeling guilty about a time when he hugely betrayed Herb in the past, BoJack visits to try and make amends. But Herb recognises the situation for what it is; this is BoJack trying to make himself feel better about what he did to Herb whilst he still can. So Herb refuses his apologies, causing BoJack to sink ever lower.
Seeking external validation to boost your self-esteem is a gamble, because this validation is by no means guaranteed, and failure to secure it is liable to puncture your sense of self-worth yet further.
But worse than this, even succeeding in a goal may not help. Towards the end of the first season, BoJack manages to get the role of Secretariat in an upcoming film, an ambition which has driven him on for years. Yet upon finding out, he does not experience elation, but instead feels completely empty.
BoJack Horseman is a cartoon, but this feeling of loss after achieving a significant ambition is true to real life. In his recent book Champion Thinking, sports reporter Simon Mundie documents how sportspeople have felt in the wake of big successes, and often it is not as ecstatic as we might imagine.
Dave Aldred was a member of the coaching team which helped lead England to Rugby World Cup glory in 2003, yet soon after the final whistle he felt “as low as low could be”. Stevie Ward, former captain of Leeds Rhinos, says that thinking success will bring you happiness is like “chasing the horizon”. No matter how fast you run, you can never get any closer to arriving. One of the key themes of Champion Thinking is that external attainment cannot plug an internal void.
This is not to say we should not have ambitions. It is beneficial for us to have a purpose, an objective to work towards, a reason to get out of bed in the morning. The problem comes when we place too much importance on whether we achieve our goal, if we allow our happiness to be determined by these outcomes.
In Intuitions, Albert Camus wrote that
You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life. In the same way the most fertile emotions will be lost to you if you insist on analysing them.
Muncie gives the example of legendary All Blacks rugby player John Kirwan, who was utterly miserable even at the height of his stellar career. His mother advised him to “smell the roses”, and so the next time he took a shower, he stood in the hot water, feeling it as if for the first time. That, said Kirwan, was the first time he had felt enjoyment in years.
When we put too much weight on achieving external goals as a way of bringing us happiness, not only are we setting ourselves up for misery, but we also fail to appreciate the little things in life. In The Stranger, when Meursault is jailed he begins to miss the simplest and most lasting joys, which he lists as:
the smells of summer, the part of town I loved, a certain evening sky, Marie’s dresses and the way she laughed.
An interesting question to pose to people is: would you rather be smart and miserable for your entire life, or stupid and happy? Many clever people will reply that they’d rather be smart and miserable, because they wouldn’t be happy if they were foolish, and being smart would make them happy. This completely disregards the parameters of the question, but they are wrong in any case. We get one shot at this life - why would you choose to not be happy?
Absurdism tells us that none of this matters. Life is fleeting, the cosmos doesn’t care, we’ll soon be forgotten. Stressing about the meaning of life is just a waste of time. This can be read as a negative outlook, but in fact absurdism is a profoundly optimistic philosophy. We don’t matter, but that’s ok, because we exist. We are here and we have agency. What we can and should do is revolt against this state of affairs, by endeavouring to live our lives to the fullest, to accept our fate and love life regardless. Happiness is not something we can achieve by picking up a medal. It is not something we do, it is something we can choose to be, each and every day.
BoJack Horseman’s frenemy, Mr. Peanutbutter, puts it like this:
The universe is a cruel, uncaring void. The key to being happy isn't a search for meaning. It's to just keep yourself busy with unimportant nonsense, and eventually, you'll be dead.
This is a rather different model of a life well lived from BoJack’s ideal, but Albert Camus would nod along with Mr. Peanutbutter here.
So, as we roll into 2025, we should all make sure that we take ourselves a bit less seriously and make time and space for the little things; those things which make life worth living. A few pints in a warm pub garden with good friends. Sitting in a comfy chair with a coffee and a good book. A walk in the forest. Spending quality time with loved ones. Whatever brings you inner peace.
Oh, and if you haven’t already, watch BoJack Horseman.
Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.