One thing that the last presidential election shows us is that successful politicians and political movements need to have not only a consistent narrative, but one that strikes an emotionally resonant chord with potential voters. Ugly as it was, Trump’s campaign did just that. It told its targeted audience a story. One that they knew because its basic elements are ubiquitous in our popular entertainments.
You wanna know why Donald Trump won the election? Spend some time watching TV. Recently, renewed treatment for a chronic illness left me considerably weakened and I found myself spending more time in front of the TV screen. Based on recommendations from friends, I started watching The Blacklist on Netflix. It’s a popular program that offers entertaining if silly melodrama — circuitous plots, suspenseful action, well-acted, with more or less compelling characters.
Characters, that is, who are compelling in ways that made me uncomfortable and left me feeling complicit in something vaguely disturbing. And then, in the midst of the third season, it struck me. Via this series, I was dipping into a version of the story that helped sell Donald Trump to a significant segment of Americans — albeit, his personal version of that story has turned out to be more cartoon than melodrama.
The plot, for those of you who aren’t familiar with the series, revolves around a powerful, wealthy and hugely successful criminal, James Reddington, who turns himself into the FBI — he has long been among their most wanted — with an offer to assist their crime-busting efforts in return for free reign to work with a task force that will act on his information. His overriding stipulation is that his interaction with the FBI will be channeled through a young woman, junior profiler Elizabeth Keen (Lizzy), who, will eventually be revealed to be is daughter — which revelation, though coming late in the series, was never really in doubt. Thanks to powerful Daddy Reddington and his apparently unlimited resources, the task force becomes highly successful in tracking down and destroying the underworld figures who threaten society in terrible and sordid ways.
The Reddington character, played with suave, if somewhat annoying, aplomb by James Spader, is unflappable and seemingly all-knowing, though violent and without scruple in pursuit of his goals despite occasional manifestations of sentimentality. No matter how dire the straits, he’s always able to propel himself, Lizzy, and the members of the task force to a successful resolution — while often realizing a considerable side profit for himself.
The world of the series, as he reveals it to the heretofore innocent everywoman, Lizzy, is a place of betrayal, desperation and corruption. A fearful place where, like Donald Trump, he alone can save the naive supporting characters. Lizzy and her FBI teammates gradually learn to accept the ruthless, often criminal means by which Reddington leads them to achieve their mutual goals. Reddington murders, tortures, cheats and lies without a second thought if he deems it “necessary.” He directs his associates, and eventually, despite a little verbal resistance, the FBI Task Force by autocratic fiat — as why shouldn’t he, since he, and he alone has what it takes to navigate the fearsome world from which we must be saved.
Sound familiar? Isn’t this just the idealized authoritarian persona that President Moron wants to project? Just as Reddington is the all-powerful daddy who alone can protect his little girl and insure a safe world in which she can flourish, Trump tells his base that it is he, the all-powerful political daddy, preferably unencumbered by morality or legal restraints, who alone can save us. His superiority, he assures his supporters, is manifested through his wealth and an ability to navigate the cutthroat business world - just as Reddington has survived by clear-sighted scheming and ruthlessness to become a respected, feared, and extremely wealthy master of the criminal underworld.
And don’t overlook the profit that Reddington often reaps as he directs the war against the bad guys — remember when Trump assured us that the fact that he, a billionaire, paid minimal taxes just meant that he was “smart” ? Smart and disinterested can’t exist together in either Reddington’s or Trump’s worlds. Characters who seem to have a moral backbone are revealed to be weak and/or foolish. Lizzy’s seemingly conscientious partner, who somewhat limply tries to observe ethical imperatives, usually succeeds only in creating obstacles detrimental to securing the “good” goals pursued by Reddington who is untrammeled by such considerations. The kind and sensitive IT expert — whose skills are essential to the team — is presented as a bit foolish and easily tricked by the denizens of a world that Reddington can negotiate easily. He rolls over for Reddington fast, offering adoring allegiance to the guy who knows better and who can protect him and his. The lesson is clear.
Oddly, the conspiracy mindset that Trump brings to the mix is present in the TV series as well — The Blacklist offers its own evil “deep state,” the Cabal (don’t laugh), a secret, global organization ensconced in the CIA but with tentacles in all branches of government. And guess what? This has to be pure coincidence — the Cabal, we are told in one episode, seeks to discredit relations with Russia. Russia is important to the series. Not only is our heroine the daughter of Reddington and a Russian superspy, but Reddington, of course, has serious “business” contacts and arrangements with the Russian underworld that usually work out to everyone’s advantage.
Of course variants of this character, Daddy Strongman, are ubiquitous and as old as literature itself. Machiavelli’s Prince, Jupiter, Jehovah (believe and ye shall be saved) or Darth Vader, anyone? Real world versions also abound throughout history — Hitler, Mussolini, every power mad monarch or dictator who has pranced through the pages of our history books has promised that he alone could save us from a menacing world if given unfettered power. It is tempting to sit back and give this all-powerful daddy free reign. And TV’s version of strongman archetypes as presented in characters like Raymond Reddington tell us it’s the right thing to do. It’s okay to watch programs like The Backlist, I think — but just remember that art, even bad art, can be powerful, which is why we need to keep critical facilities well greased and always ready to go.