I've never believed that a man has to prove his masculinity by getting into fistfights.
In fact, I think most adults should have enough sense to resolve their differences without punching somebody in the face.
We're supposed to grow out of that sort of thing.
Preferably before we're old enough to have children.
But I have to admit something.
There's a quality I've always admired in certain television husbands and fathers.
They could argue with their families, complain about their families, and occasionally act as though their families were driving them absolutely crazy. But heaven help the outsider who tried to hurt someone they loved.
Al Bundy was a perfect example.
I was never particularly fond of Married... with Children.
Frankly, I thought the show could be obnoxious.
Al complained endlessly about Peggy.
He insulted his children.
And he behaved as though marriage and fatherhood were two unfortunate developments that had ruined an otherwise promising football career.
But there was something I appreciated about him.
Underneath all that complaining, he was fiercely protective of his family.
And if someone threatened the Bundys, Al suddenly remembered that these were his people.
Then there was Dan Conner on Roseanne.
Dan could be loud, stubborn, and occasionally short-tempered.
But he adored Roseanne.
And when he discovered that Jackie's boyfriend had been physically abusing her, Dan didn't spend three days discussing the situation.
He went looking for Fisher.
And Fisher learned something about the Conner family.
Then there's Charles Ingalls.
Good old Pa.
The man who taught Laura and Mary about kindness, forgiveness, and treating people with dignity.
Until someone upset him.
At which point, the unfortunate offender might find himself examining the floor from an entirely new angle.
I've already explored Charles's rather impressive collection of fistfights in "Charles Ingalls Had a Temper: All the Times Pa Threw a Punch on Little House on the Prairie."
But comparing him with Al Bundy and Dan Conner raises an interesting question.
Were these men demonstrating courage?
Or were they sometimes confusing love with the desire to punish someone?
Because I think there's a difference between protecting your family from immediate harm and tracking someone down because you're furious about what he's already done.
And as much as I enjoy watching a fictional bully receive a well-deserved comeuppance, I'm not particularly interested in seeing ordinary people spend their retirement savings on criminal defense attorneys.
Sometimes protecting someone requires physical intervention. But sometimes the man throwing the punch is protecting his pride more than the person he claims to be defending.
And that's a distinction worth examining.
Al Bundy Complained About His Family, but Nobody Else Was Allowed to Hurt Them
Let's begin with Al Bundy, played by Ed O'Neill.
Al was hardly a model of thoughtful communication.
He treated Peggy's spending habits as a personal attack.
He considered Kelly's boyfriends a threat to civilization.
And his relationship with Bud frequently involved reminding the boy how disappointing his romantic prospects were.
Lovely parenting.
Yet for all his complaining, Al had a peculiar code of loyalty.
The Bundys could insult one another.
They could argue.
They could embarrass each other.
But when someone outside the family threatened one of them, Al often became a completely different man.
The miserable shoe salesman who seemed too exhausted to get off the couch suddenly discovered an impressive reserve of energy.
Especially when Kelly brought home a boyfriend he didn't approve of.
And apparently there were quite a few.
In the fifth-season episode "One Down, Two to Go," which aired November 25, 1990, Kelly finally becomes so fed up with her father's interference that she moves out.
The immediate problem?
Al has beaten up another of her boyfriends.
Another one.
At some point, I imagine the young men of Chicago began comparing notes.
"Where does she live?"
"The Bundy house."
"Oh. Never mind."
Now, I understand a father wanting to protect his daughter.
If a man is mistreating her, threatening her, or attempting to take advantage of her, I'd expect a responsible parent to take the situation seriously.
But I don't believe a father has unlimited authority to decide which men his adult daughter may date.
And I certainly don't think punching every undesirable boyfriend is an acceptable substitute for having a conversation.
Kelly had a right to be angry.
A father can protect his daughter without treating her romantic life as an extension of his own authority.
And I think Al sometimes forgot that.
He wasn't always defending Kelly from danger.
Sometimes he was defending himself from the discomfort of realizing that his daughter was growing up.
Those aren't the same things.
Al Bundy Even Beat Up a Burglar—and Got Sued
One of the most ridiculous examples of Al's physical confrontations comes in "Un-Alful Entry," which aired March 28, 1993.
Al is sleeping on the couch when a burglar breaks into the Bundy home.
Eventually, Al realizes what's happening.
The intruder threatens him.
And Al manages to knock him out.
Now, I have no particular objection to someone protecting himself and his family from a threatening intruder.
A person who unlawfully enters an occupied home and threatens the resident has created a dangerous situation.
And Al shouldn't have been expected to stand there politely asking the burglar whether he'd like a cup of coffee before leaving.
But because this is Married... with Children, the story doesn't end with Al becoming a neighborhood hero.
The burglar sues him.
For injuring him.
While stopping the burglary.
And the case goes to court.
I have to laugh.
Only Al Bundy could get into trouble for defending his home and then manage to make the situation even more absurd.
The legal proceedings are deliberately exaggerated for comedy. The episode isn't a reliable explanation of how a real burglary or self-defense lawsuit would be decided.
But the underlying concern is recognizable.
Even when someone believes he's acting defensively, a physical confrontation can have serious consequences.
People can be injured.
The facts can be disputed.
Police may become involved.
And whether force was lawful depends on the circumstances.
Being morally outraged doesn't automatically mean every action we take is legally justified.
That's something these television fathers occasionally forgot.
And it's something I'd certainly remember before deciding that punching somebody was my best available option.
But Sometimes Al Was More Interested in Looking Tough Than Protecting Peggy
Here's another episode I find fascinating.
"The Weaker Sex," which aired October 22, 1995.
Peggy begins taking self-defense classes.
Al isn't particularly impressed.
He doesn't like the idea that his wife might become physically capable of protecting herself.
And he certainly doesn't appreciate what happens next.
A man attempts to steal Al's wallet.
Peggy uses her training to stop him.
And suddenly she's the hero.
Not Al.
Peggy.
The woman Al has spent years ridiculing is now being celebrated for protecting her husband.
And Al can't stand it.
He becomes obsessed with proving that he's still the tougher person in the marriage.
He even arranges situations designed to make himself look heroic.
Naturally, things don't work out quite as planned.
Peggy keeps demonstrating that she's perfectly capable of defending herself and him.
Now, I think there's something wonderfully instructive about that.
Because genuine protection isn't supposed to be a competition.
If your spouse prevents someone from hurting you, shouldn't you be grateful?
Why would you be embarrassed?
Because she's a woman?
Because you're a man?
Because somebody might think you're weak?
Oh, please.
I appreciate a man who's willing to protect his family.
But I also appreciate a woman who can protect herself and the people she loves.
And I don't think either person should have to pretend otherwise to preserve someone else's pride.
A protective husband should want his wife to be safe, not dependent on him for her safety.
That's where Al's admirable family loyalty occasionally became tangled up with his ego.
He wanted to be the protector.
Even when Peggy didn't need rescuing.
And when that happened, his behavior stopped being about her welfare and started being about his own reputation.
Dan Conner Had a Different Kind of Loyalty
Now let's talk about Dan Conner, played by John Goodman.
I always found Dan and Roseanne's marriage more believable than the Bundys'.
They argued.
They teased each other.
They worried about money.
They became frustrated with their children.
And there were times when one or both behaved foolishly.
But underneath the bickering, you could see that they genuinely loved each other.
Dan wasn't embarrassed by Roseanne.
He knew exactly who he'd married.
She was loud.
Opinionated.
Sarcastic.
And perfectly capable of telling him when she thought he was behaving like an idiot.
And he loved her.
I appreciated that.
Because I don't believe a good marriage requires two people who never argue.
I believe it requires two people who remember that they're on the same side even when they're disagreeing.
And Dan generally understood that.
But he also had a temper.
Which brings me to an episode that I remember particularly well.
"Dan's Birthday Bash," from the first season, aired January 3, 1989.
Dan is celebrating his birthday at the Lobo Lounge when a loudmouthed man named Bobo begins causing trouble.
Dan wants to fight him.
Roseanne stops him.
And Dan is humiliated.
Not because Roseanne has done anything wrong.
But because he's worried about looking weak in front of other people.
Now, I understand why he was angry with Bobo.
The man was being obnoxious.
But I think Roseanne was right to intervene.
Dan was about to turn an unpleasant evening into a physical confrontation.
And she'd spent years trying to get him to stop fighting.
I admire that.
She wasn't telling him to tolerate physical abuse.
She was telling him that he didn't need to answer every provocation with his fists.
Unfortunately, Bobo wasn't finished.
Dan Knocked Out the Man Who Insulted His "Fat Wife"
Later in the episode, Dan and Roseanne encounter Bobo again.
And this time, the man makes a remark about Roseanne's weight.
He refers to her as Dan's "fat wife."
Now, I've always had very little patience for people who believe another person's appearance is an invitation for humiliation.
Roseanne's weight was none of Bobo's business.
And his insult was particularly unpleasant because he was using Dan's wife to provoke Dan.
I don't think that's clever.
I think it's obnoxious.
And I appreciate that Dan wasn't willing to join in the ridicule.
He wasn't embarrassed by Roseanne.
He wasn't going to agree with Bobo.
He loved his wife.
And when Bobo made the insult, Dan looked to Roseanne.
This time, she allowed him to respond physically.
Just once.
And Dan knocked Bobo out.
Now, did I enjoy watching that scene?
I have to admit I did.
There's something satisfying about watching an arrogant bully discover that not everyone is willing to tolerate his behavior.
But here's where my adult judgment has to intervene.
An insult, however cruel, isn't automatically a justification for physically assaulting someone.
Bobo was behaving disgracefully.
That doesn't mean Dan had to punch him.
And I certainly wouldn't advise a real husband to risk arrest because somebody made an insulting remark about his wife's appearance.
I'd rather see him stand beside her, make it clear that the insult was unacceptable, and leave with his dignity intact.
But I also understand why the scene appealed to viewers.
Dan wasn't ashamed of Roseanne.
He didn't allow Bobo's remarks to define her.
And he wasn't willing to treat a public insult toward his wife as something amusing.
That loyalty mattered.
I just wish television were better at demonstrating that a man can defend his wife's dignity without having to knock someone unconscious.
When Dan Found Out Fisher Was Abusing Jackie, the Situation Was Much More Serious
Now we come to the confrontation I consider far more morally complicated.
"Crime and Punishment," which aired January 5, 1993.
Jackie Harris, played by Laurie Metcalf, has been dating Fisher, played by Matt Roth.
And things are not what they appear.
Jackie has been hiding something terrible.
Fisher has been physically abusing her.
Eventually, the family discovers the bruises.
Roseanne realizes what's happening.
And Dan finds out.
Now, I want to make something clear.
This wasn't a case of somebody insulting a woman in a bar.
This wasn't a disagreement about a daughter's boyfriend.
This was domestic violence.
Jackie had been harmed by someone who was supposed to care about her.
And the people who loved her were understandably furious.
Dan doesn't deliver a lengthy speech.
He puts on his jacket and leaves.
Later, he returns with injured knuckles.
And then the police arrive.
Because Dan has beaten up Fisher.
And he's being arrested.
Now, I have to admit something.
Part of me applauded Dan.
I can understand the anger of discovering that someone has been hurting a family member.
And there's something especially disturbing about an abusive partner who believes he can use violence against someone who trusts him.
I don't have much sympathy for Fisher.
But here's where the distinction becomes important.
Dan wasn't shown stopping an assault that was happening at that moment. He went after Fisher because of abuse that had already occurred.
Emotionally, I understand it.
Morally, I can understand why viewers found it satisfying.
But legally and practically, that's a much more dangerous decision than intervening to stop an immediate attack.
And I think the show was wise not to pretend otherwise.
Dan ended up in jail.
His actions had consequences.
And the story didn't end simply because Fisher received a beating.
Jackie Needed More Than Dan's Fists
The following episode, "War and Peace," aired January 12, 1993.
Dan is bailed out of jail.
Jackie receives medical attention.
And the family has to confront the reality of what happened.
One of the details I appreciate most is that Jackie doesn't simply become a grateful spectator in a story about Dan's heroism.
She has feelings about his actions.
Complicated feelings.
She can recognize that he cares about her while also being upset that he took matters into his own hands.
And I think that's important.
Because domestic violence is not simply a problem for the nearest angry male relative to solve by locating the abuser and beating him up.
Jackie is a person.
She has her own feelings.
Her own decisions.
Her own fears.
And her own future to consider.
Roseanne and Dan care about her.
But they can't make every choice for her.
Nor should they.
I also think we have to recognize that retaliation against an abusive partner can create additional dangers.
It can escalate a volatile situation.
It can expose family members to further violence.
And it can shift attention away from the person who needs protection.
Dan's arrest also created a new problem for his own household.
So while I admire his unwillingness to tolerate Fisher's abuse, I wouldn't hold his response up as the ideal way to handle domestic violence.
What Jackie needed was safety, medical care, supportive people who believed her, and the freedom to make informed decisions about leaving the relationship.
And she eventually does leave Fisher.
That matters more than whether Dan managed to hurt him.
A man can demonstrate that he cares about an abused woman without making her safety dependent on his ability to win a fight.
And I think that's the lesson the episode ultimately gives us.
Dan's anger was understandable.
His loyalty was admirable.
But Jackie's recovery and independence were more important than his revenge.
Charles Ingalls Was Protective, but Sometimes He Was Just Plain Hotheaded
Now let's return to Charles Ingalls.
Because comparing him with Dan and Al makes something particularly clear.
Charles didn't always need an actual threat to start swinging.
Sometimes all he needed was a misunderstanding.
Take Almanzo Wilder.
Laura gets into a fight with Nellie.
Almanzo helps her get cleaned up.
Nellie spreads a misleading story.
And Charles becomes convinced that something improper has happened.
Does he investigate?
Not particularly.
Does he ask Laura what happened?
Not before deciding to confront Almanzo.
He heads to Almanzo's home and punches him.
And then discovers that he was completely wrong.
Oh, Charles.
I love you, but that was ridiculous.
Now compare that with "Sylvia," when Hector Webb arrives armed and threatening Albert.
There, Charles has a genuine reason to intervene.
Someone is threatening his son with a rifle.
That's not merely an insult.
And it's certainly not a misunderstanding that can safely be ignored.
Or consider "Dark Sage," when Charles intervenes after a prejudiced husband prevents a qualified Black physician from providing urgently needed treatment to his wife.
Again, there's an immediate danger.
The confrontation involves more than Charles's wounded pride.
That's the distinction I find important.
Charles was at his best when he intervened to protect someone from real harm. He was at his worst when he treated his own anger as sufficient evidence that violence was justified.
And I think the same standard should apply to Dan Conner and Al Bundy.
A loving motive doesn't automatically make every action reasonable.
Sometimes these men were protecting people.
Sometimes they were punishing someone.
And occasionally they were simply trying to prove how tough they were.
We should be able to recognize the difference.
Uncle Phil Even Punched Another Father Over a School Bullying Dispute
There's another television father who deserves a place in this conversation.
Philip Banks, played by James Avery, on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.
Now, Uncle Phil was a lawyer.
An educated man.
A successful professional.
And someone who generally understood that disagreements should be handled through reason and proper legal channels.
At least in theory.
In the second-season episode "The Mother of All Battles," which aired September 16, 1991, Ashley Banks is having trouble with a girl at school.
The girl, Paula Hoover, has been bullying her.
Will wants to teach Ashley how to fight.
Carlton has a different strategy.
And eventually the adults become involved.
Philip and Vivian meet with Paula's parents.
The idea, naturally, is to settle the situation responsibly.
Because the parents are supposed to be the mature ones.
Right?
Well, things don't go particularly well.
The adults begin arguing.
Insults start flying.
And when Paula's father makes a remark about Philip's mother, Uncle Phil punches him.
There goes the peaceful resolution.
And there goes the argument that children should always imitate how adults handle disagreements.
The irony is wonderful.
The children eventually discover that their conflict arose from a misunderstanding.
They're able to work through it.
Meanwhile, the grown men have managed to escalate a schoolyard dispute into a physical confrontation.
I think that's an excellent lesson.
Although perhaps not the one Uncle Phil intended to teach.
Parents cannot convincingly tell children to resolve disagreements without violence while demonstrating that an insulting remark is sufficient reason to throw a punch.
And I would have liked Philip to recognize that contradiction.
He wanted to protect Ashley.
Understandable.
But protecting a child from bullying should include modeling better ways to handle conflict.
Not proving that adults can be just as impulsive as the children.
James Evans Showed That Sometimes the Strongest Father Is the One Who Doesn't Fight
Now, here's an example I find especially important.
James Evans on Good Times, played by John Amos.
James was a hardworking father.
He was proud.
He had a temper.
And he was absolutely devoted to Florida and their children.
He also lived in circumstances where keeping his family safe wasn't always easy.
In the second-season storyline "The Gang," James faces one of the most frightening situations a parent can experience.
His son J.J. is shot by a gang member known as Mad Dog.
The wound turns out not to be life-threatening.
But imagine how James feels.
His son has been shot.
Someone has endangered his child's life.
And James is furious.
He wants revenge.
Now, I don't blame him for being angry.
I think most parents would be terrified.
And when fear turns into anger, people sometimes begin imagining all sorts of things they'd like to do to the person responsible.
But here's where the story becomes meaningful.
James doesn't ultimately beat Mad Dog.
After a court hearing, he witnesses a painful confrontation between the young man and his mother.
Mad Dog's mother expresses her anger and disappointment in devastating terms.
And James sees something he hadn't considered.
The young man he's been thinking of as a monster is also a deeply troubled person.
That doesn't excuse shooting J.J.
Nothing about his personal circumstances makes violence acceptable.
But James begins recognizing the human being behind the wrongdoing.
And he chooses not to pursue his revenge.
I think that demonstrates extraordinary strength.
Because James had every reason to be angry.
He had every reason to demand accountability.
And he certainly wasn't a weak man.
But he recognized that hurting Mad Dog wouldn't undo what happened to J.J.
Nor would it necessarily make his family safer.
James Evans demonstrated that a father can love his child fiercely, demand justice, and still refuse to become violent out of revenge.
And to me, that is every bit as admirable as watching Dan Conner defend Jackie.
Perhaps more so.
Because controlling your anger when you have a legitimate reason to be furious is much harder than controlling it when nothing is at stake.
Protecting Someone Isn't the Same Thing as Avenging Them
I think this is the central distinction that all these shows raise.
Suppose someone is physically attacking your family member.
There's an immediate danger.
You may need to intervene.
You may need to call for help.
You may need to move the person to safety.
And depending on the circumstances, some degree of physical force may be necessary to stop the attack.
I understand that.
I don't believe protecting yourself or another person is inherently wrong.
But now imagine something different.
The danger has passed.
Your family member is safe.
And you're furious about what happened.
So you decide to find the person responsible and beat him up.
That's no longer simply protection.
That's retaliation.
And even if the person behaved terribly, we need to recognize that distinction.
Dan going after Fisher was emotionally understandable.
But the immediate assault on Jackie wasn't happening when Dan went looking for him.
Charles punching Almanzo wasn't an act of rescue at all.
It was a response to something he wrongly believed had occurred.
And Al beating up Kelly's boyfriends could sometimes be less about preventing harm than about asserting control over his daughter's relationships.
Those circumstances matter.
Anger may tell us that something important has happened. It doesn't necessarily tell us what the right response should be.
And I think that's where these television fathers sometimes got into trouble.
They allowed their emotions to determine their actions before considering whether those actions would actually protect anyone.
Standing Up for Your Wife Doesn't Require Her to Be Helpless
There's another lesson I want to emphasize.
I appreciate a man who respects his wife enough to refuse to join in when someone insults or humiliates her.
I appreciate a man who recognizes that mistreatment is unacceptable.
And I appreciate a husband who doesn't suddenly become indifferent when someone outside the family is cruel to the woman he loves.
But I don't believe women need men to fight every battle for them.
Roseanne certainly wasn't helpless.
She was perfectly capable of telling Bobo what she thought of him.
Jackie needed support and protection from abuse, but she also needed her decisions respected.
And Peggy Bundy demonstrated that she could sometimes handle a physical threat more effectively than Al.
Which I found hilarious.
The important thing isn't whether the protector is male or female.
It's whether the person recognizes a genuine need and responds appropriately.
Sometimes that means speaking up.
Sometimes it means offering a safe place to stay.
Sometimes it means helping someone obtain assistance.
And sometimes it simply means refusing to abandon a person who's frightened.
Being a good husband isn't about proving that your wife needs you to defend her. It's about making sure she knows she can depend on you when she does need help.
And I think that's a much healthier understanding of loyalty.
What Jewish Wisdom Says About Defending Someone You Love
There's a Jewish teaching that fits this discussion particularly well.
Leviticus 19:16 warns us not to stand idly by when another person's life is in danger.
And the Talmud, in Sanhedrin 73a, discusses our obligation to rescue someone who is threatened with serious harm.
I find that principle enormously important.
Because it reminds us that being a decent person doesn't mean remaining passive when someone needs protection.
There are circumstances where failing to act can itself be a moral failure.
If someone is in danger, we have a responsibility to consider what we can do to help.
But here's where I think the distinction becomes especially meaningful.
The same Jewish moral tradition also places limits on vengeance.
Leviticus 19:18 warns against taking revenge and bearing grudges.
And Pirkei Avot 4:1 asks who is truly strong.
The answer isn't the person capable of overpowering everyone around him.
It's the person who can master his own impulses.
Now, I wouldn't interpret those teachings to mean that someone facing an immediate violent threat must simply stand there and accept injury.
That's not what I'm arguing.
Nor would I use them to suggest that victims of violence should tolerate abuse.
Quite the opposite.
The obligation to protect vulnerable people is serious.
But protecting someone and punishing someone are not interchangeable.
And that's the difference I hear in these teachings.
We have a responsibility to help people who are in danger. We don't automatically have a right to satisfy our anger by hurting the person who wronged them.
Consider James Evans.
His son had been shot.
He was furious.
Yet he eventually chose restraint.
That didn't mean he'd stopped loving J.J.
It didn't mean the shooting was acceptable.
It meant James recognized that revenge wasn't necessarily the same thing as justice.
And I think that's a powerful lesson.
To me, being a mensch isn't about being physically intimidating.
It's about having the courage to protect someone when protection is necessary and the wisdom to stop when anger is no longer serving that purpose.
Sometimes the bravest thing a person can do is intervene.
And sometimes it's refusing to turn a terrible situation into an even worse one.
What I'd Tell a Man Who Wants to Beat Up Someone for Hurting His Family
If a man told me he wanted to beat up someone who had hurt his wife, daughter, sister, or another person he loved, I wouldn't immediately assume he was a violent person.
I'd understand that he was angry.
Maybe frightened.
Maybe feeling helpless.
Maybe imagining how much worse the situation could have been.
Those feelings can be powerful.
But I'd want to know something important.
Is the person you love still in danger?
Because if someone is being attacked, we need to focus on safety.
Get help.
Contact emergency services when necessary.
Find a way to get the endangered person to safety without making the situation worse.
And if immediate physical intervention becomes unavoidable, the goal should be stopping the danger—not delivering punishment.
But if the immediate threat is over, I'd want him to think carefully before going after anybody.
What happens if you get arrested?
What happens if the other man has a weapon?
What happens if you seriously injure him?
What happens if he retaliates against your family?
And what happens to the people who depend on you if you're sitting in jail?
Those are not insignificant questions.
I also wouldn't want an abused family member to feel responsible for the consequences of someone else's retaliation.
If Jackie had been a real person, she would already have been dealing with enough.
She shouldn't also have to worry that Dan might end up in prison because he was furious about what happened to her.
And if I were speaking to the family member who'd been harmed, I'd want to listen.
Not take over.
Not make promises I couldn't keep.
And not decide that my anger was more important than what the person actually needed.
The goal should be to make the person safer, not to make the protector feel better.
And I think that's the lesson these television confrontations often left unexplored.
The Law Doesn't Care That You Were Doing Your Best Dan Conner Impression
Now, let's discuss the part that makes me laugh.
Imagine Al Bundy, Dan Conner, and Charles Ingalls living in the same neighborhood today.
Someone insults Roseanne.
Dan starts rolling up his sleeves.
Someone looks at Kelly the wrong way.
Al comes running out of the house.
Someone tells Charles that Almanzo has been seen with Laura.
And Charles is already halfway into his truck.
Good grief.
The local police department would need an entire filing cabinet devoted to these three men.
But as entertaining as that image is, real-world physical confrontations aren't television punchlines.
A person can suffer a serious injury from a single punch or a fall.
An encounter can escalate unexpectedly.
And the fact that someone insulted your spouse or behaved badly toward your family doesn't automatically establish a legal defense.
Self-defense and defense-of-others laws vary by jurisdiction, and they generally require more than anger about something that has already happened.
That doesn't mean a person who acts to stop an immediate violent threat will automatically be arrested or convicted.
The facts matter.
But the consequences can be significant enough that I'd think very carefully before getting physically involved when another safe option exists.
And I'd especially think carefully before tracking somebody down after the danger has passed.
Because while a television character may spend the next episode dealing with an amusing misunderstanding at the police station, a real person may be facing criminal charges, legal expenses, and lasting consequences.
Frankly, I'd rather spend that money on something useful.
Like groceries.
Or fixing the roof.
Or perhaps purchasing Dan Conner a good set of noise-canceling headphones so he doesn't hear every obnoxious remark made at the Lobo Lounge.
You can have every reason to be angry and still make a terrible decision about what to do with that anger.
That's what I think these men needed to remember.
The Men Who Never Lifted a Finger Could Still Be Fiercely Protective
There's another side to this that I don't want to overlook.
A father doesn't have to fight someone to demonstrate loyalty.
A husband doesn't have to threaten another man to prove he loves his wife.
And a brother doesn't have to become physically intimidating to show that he'll stand beside his sister.
Some of the most meaningful acts of protection involve no violence whatsoever.
A parent believes a child who reports mistreatment.
A husband refuses to allow relatives to humiliate his wife.
A brother helps his sister find a safe place to stay.
A friend accompanies someone through a frightening appointment.
A family member makes sure someone has transportation, support, and a person willing to listen.
Those things matter.
And they can require considerable courage.
Especially when helping someone means confronting a difficult family situation, challenging an authority figure, or refusing to remain silent about behavior other people would rather ignore.
I don't believe physical courage is the only kind worth admiring.
And I don't want young people growing up with the idea that a man who doesn't fight is automatically weak.
That would be a terrible lesson.
A person who refuses to be provoked into unnecessary violence may be demonstrating extraordinary self-control.
And someone who chooses a safe, practical way to protect another person may accomplish far more than someone who simply throws a punch.
The measure of a person's loyalty isn't how badly he's willing to hurt someone else. It's how reliably he shows up for the people who need him.
And I think that's a standard worth teaching.
My Verdict: I Admire the Loyalty, but I'd Rather Have a Protector Who Thinks Before He Swings
I still admire something about these television fathers.
Al Bundy might have complained about his family from morning until night, but he wasn't indifferent to their welfare.
Dan Conner could argue with Roseanne, but he loved her fiercely and refused to tolerate Jackie's abuse.
Charles Ingalls was devoted to his wife and children and frequently stood up for people who were being mistreated.
And Uncle Phil was deeply concerned about Ashley being bullied.
Those qualities deserve appreciation.
But I don't believe every action motivated by family loyalty deserves admiration.
Al wasn't right to beat up Kelly's boyfriends simply because he disliked them.
Dan wasn't legally justified in punching Bobo merely because Bobo insulted Roseanne.
Charles was completely wrong to strike Almanzo without knowing the facts.
And Uncle Phil certainly didn't teach Ashley much about peaceful conflict resolution when he punched another father.
Then there's Dan's response to Fisher.
That's the one I find most emotionally understandable.
Because physical abuse is serious.
And watching someone you love suffer at the hands of an abusive partner can produce enormous anger.
But even there, I think we need to recognize that helping Jackie become safe and independent mattered more than hurting Fisher.
That's why I appreciate the Good Times storyline involving James Evans.
James had every reason to be furious about his son's shooting.
He wanted revenge.
But he eventually recognized that hurting Mad Dog wouldn't undo what happened.
And he chose not to do it.
I think that takes strength.
At fifty-one, I've come to value people who know the difference between being protective and being possessive, between being courageous and being reckless, and between demanding justice and seeking revenge.
I don't admire violence for its own sake.
And I certainly don't think adults should be settling every disagreement with their fists.
But I also don't believe someone should stand idly by while another person is being seriously harmed.
There are times when people need protection.
And I appreciate those who are willing to provide it.
I just want that protection to involve judgment.
Not simply anger.
A good man shouldn't be eager to fight. But he should be willing to stand up for someone who needs him—and wise enough to recognize when standing up doesn't require throwing a punch.
That's the lesson I take from these television fathers.
And perhaps the most important thing I'd want children to understand.
You can love your family fiercely without making violence the measure of that love.
You can defend someone's dignity without attacking another person.
You can demand accountability without taking revenge.
And you can be strong enough to protect someone while remaining disciplined enough to avoid making the situation worse.
As for Al Bundy, Dan Conner, and Charles Ingalls?
I suspect they'd have some difficulty accepting all of that.
Especially Charles.
That man could find a fistfight in a town with approximately forty residents.
But I still appreciate the message behind their better moments.
When you love someone, you don't simply abandon that person when things become difficult.
You stand beside them.
You take their safety seriously.
And you don't pretend that mistreatment is acceptable simply because confronting it would be inconvenient.
That's the kind of loyalty I admire.
Not a man who's always ready to beat somebody up, but a man who's always ready to do what's necessary to protect the people he loves.
And if he can accomplish that without getting arrested?
Even better.
Because Caroline, Roseanne, and Peggy already had enough to deal with.
The last thing those women needed was another bill from an attorney.
