Henry Hill, in Scorsese’s most renowned Gangster movie, Goodfellas, aspires to be a radical individual. His freedom is expressed in his becoming a member of the Lucchese crime family in New York City, a choice he makes as an alternative to the life of a “schmuck,” “an average nobody.” But is Henry’s choice actually diametrically opposed to the life of a “schmuck,” a life that we as audience are leading? If we consider them in light of a Hobbesian conception of human nature, both Henry and the moviegoer have selfish motives underlying their choices. Hobbes considers humans essentially selfish, and both the law-abiding citizen and gangster share this nature. If the motives do turn out to be similar, how can it be that they lead to such diverse choices?
In Henry’s (and Karen’s, Henry’s wife, as well) gangster monologue, we get a sense of the radical freedom that they find in the life of crime. Their story describes what it’s like to be part of the gangster family. As far as Karen is concerned, some of it is drab and lonely. But for Henry, it is a fantasy come true. You are your own boss. You command respect. Most of all, “the life” made being a gangster so appealing. Henry says, “For us to live any other way was nuts. Uh, to us, those goody-good people who worked shitty jobs for bum paychecks and took the subway to work every day and worried about their bills, were dead.” The life of the gangster, by contrast, is one where the individual does as he likes, tells others to take a hike, and most of all, bathes in money and glamour. Schmuck he may be, but, in the glitz and glam of the gangster lifestyle, the moviegoer can at least understand Henry’s aspirations to radical individualism. For the moviegoer might have these appetites as well, and only exercise restraint out of the self-interest of avoiding the darker side of gangsterism.
The gangster’s life is one that Henry, from childhood on, always wanted. He gets his foot in the door by performing odd jobs for the gangsters whose hangout is across the street from his parent’s house. For a time, he does attain a sense of the freedom he sought. Henry’s early experience as an errand boy for the gangsters is spoofed in the Simpsons. When Bart wanders into a Gangster bar owned by Fat Tony, he initially makes cocktails, gives betting tips, and even gets a suit like young Henry. Bart’s radical individualism is complete when Fat Tony kidnaps Principal Skinner for keeping Bart after school. Bart is untouchable—but only for now! His radical individualism has its limitations. Just as Bart’s exploits escalate, Henry’s do as well. Henry soon becomes a fully-fledged gangster; the dream came true. But the dream comes with its own reality check.
The moviegoer is at all times aware that Henry is a celluloid radical individual who enjoys a life of free expression, but, at the same time, that this life is not sustainable. The radical life might include “bopping someone on the nose,” but only if it does not interfere with the interests of the boss. Tommy, for instance, gets his due desserts for whacking Billy Batts without permission. Henry, for his own part, is ordered by Paulie not to partake in cocaine trafficking. The radical individualism of the urban-cowboy, although much like the cowboy on the “frontier” where the individual answers to no one, turns out to be mythical.
How do we explain the behavior of the “radical individual” who agrees to subordinate his will to that of the boss? Certainly not on the basis of an abstract social morality. Here, Hobbes can help. Hobbes vanquishes what he considered to be the underlying supposition of Aristotle’s “vain philosophy,” namely, that social morality is a natural state. Moral choices are not caused by abstract moral laws. Instead, we might say that there is a “practical good” in controlling one’s urges to commit violence. We defer such urges to hurt others for the good of ourselves and others. Henry shouldn’t sell cocaine and Tommy shouldn’t kill Billy for fear of suffering the same plight they inflict on others. As Pileggi wrote in his book Wiseguy, on which Goodfellas is based, in reference to public conscience “murder was the only way everybody stayed in line. It was the ultimate weapon. Nobody was immune. You got out of line, you got ‘whacked.’”
Contrary to the view that he held a more traditional moral stance, Hobbes is better characterized as a skeptical moralist. As a skeptical moralist, the radical individual can surrender freedom without becoming a law-abiding citizen. In this case, Henry would obey Paulie’s command, not because he knows better, but because no one has any reliable knowledge about the best way to act. Paulie himself gives no indication that he knows anything, but he commands respect and organizes protection for those who can’t go to the police. Whereas the moviegoer may see Henry as having no moral standard at all, he initially succeeds at exercising this kind of practical self-restraint. This is shown by Henry’s not ratting on Paulie and the other gangsters after he was found guilty of selling stolen cigarettes.
If Henry obeys Paulie, it is not out of respect for an abstract social morality. Rather, it is out of self-interest. The average gangster is being practical because to obey their boss is to gain the good life and stay alive. They know this! Did Henry? Ultimately, obedience means sacrificing the freedom that Henry craved. To obey Paulie practically restricts Henry’s radical individualism to the realm of his appetites, which makes him like the moviegoer: a “schmuck,” “an average nobody.” But Henry refuses to be a schmuck. Henry is the radical individual that the moviegoer admires and could never become. And yet, both are driven by self-interest. Only Henry has allowed his radicalism to divert him from the fruits of the life of a gangster that he enjoyed in his early days.
Christopher Innes
Christopher M. Innes is a social philosopher teaching at Boise State University in Boise, Idaho, USA. He likes to write on all aspects of popular culture with film, TV, and music being his favorite areas.
