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- Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Serie: The Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture Series
- Sprache: Englisch
Is Democracy overrated? Does power corrupt? Or do corrupt people seek power? Do corporate puppet masters pull politicians' strings? Why does Frank talk to the camera? Can politics deliver on the promise of justice? House of Cards depicts our worst fears about politics today. Love him or loathe him, Frank Underwood has charted an inimitable course through Washington politics. He and his cohorts depict the darkest dealings within the gleaming halls of our most revered political institutions. These 24 original essays examine key philosophical issues behind the critically-acclaimed series--questions of truth, justice, equality, opportunity, and privilege. The amoral machinations of Underwood, the ultimate anti-hero, serve as an ideal backdrop for a discussion of the political theories of philosophers as diverse as Plato, Aristotle, Nietzsche, Machiavelli, Hobbes, and Marx. From political and corporate ethics, race relations, and ruthless paragmatism to mass media collusion and sexual politics, these essays tackle a range of issues important not only to the series but to our understanding of society today.
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Seitenzahl: 513
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015
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The Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture Series
Series editor William Irwin
A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, and a healthy helping of popular culture clears the cobwebs from Kant. Philosophy has had a public relations problem for a few centuries now. This series aims to change that, showing that philosophy is relevant to your life—and not just for answering the big questions like “To be or not to be?” but for answering the little questions: “To watch or not to watch South Park?” Thinking deeply about TV, movies, and music doesn’t make you a “complete idiot.” In fact it might make you a philosopher, someone who believes the unexamined life is not worth living and the unexamined cartoon is not worth watching.
Already published in the series:
24 and Philosophy: The World According to Jack}
Edited by Jennifer Hart Weed, Richard Brian Davis, and Ronald Weed}
30 Rock and Philosophy: We Want to Go to There
Edited by J. Jeremy Wisnewski
Alice in Wonderland and Philosophy: Curiouser and Curiouser
Edited by Richard Brian Davis
Arrested Development and Philosophy: They’ve Made a Huge Mistake
Edited by Kristopher Phillips and J. Jeremy Wisnewski
Avatar and Philosophy: Learning to See
Edited by George A. Dunn
The Avengers and Philosophy: Earth’s Mightiest Thinkers
Edited by Mark D. White
Batman and Philosophy: The Dark Knight of the Soul
Edited by Mark D. White and Robert Arp
Battlestar Galactica and Philosophy: Knowledge Here Begins Out There
Edited by Jason T. Eberl
The Big Bang Theory and Philosophy: Rock, Paper, Scissors, Aristotle, Locke
Edited by Dean Kowalski
The Big Lebowski and Philosophy: Keeping Your Mind Limber with Abiding Wisdom
Edited by Peter S. Fosl
BioShock and Philosophy: Irrational Game, Rational Book
Edited by Luke Cuddy
Black Sabbath and Philosophy: Mastering Reality
Edited by William Irwin
The Daily Show and Philosophy: Moments of Zen in the Art of Fake News
Edited by Jason Holt
Downton Abbey and Philosophy: The Truth Is Neither Here nor There
Edited by Mark D. White
Dungeons & Dragons and Philosophy: Read and Gain Advantage on All Wisdom Checks
Edited by Christopher Robichaud
Ender’s Game and Philosophy: The Logic Gate is Down
Edited by Kevin S. Decker
Family Guy and Philosophy: A Cure for the Petarded
Edited by J. Jeremy Wisnewski
Final Fantasy and Philosophy: The Ultimate Walkthrough
Edited by Jason P. Blahuta and Michel S. Beaulieu
Game of Thrones and Philosophy: Logic Cuts Deeper Than Swords
Edited by Henry Jacoby
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and Philosophy: Everything Is Fire
Edited by Eric Bronson
Green Lantern and Philosophy: No Evil Shall Escape This Book
Edited by Jane Dryden and Mark D. White
Heroes and Philosophy: Buy the Book, Save the World
Edited by David Kyle Johnson
The Hobbit and Philosophy: For When You’ve Lost Your Dwarves, Your Wizard, and Your Way
Edited by Gregory Bassham and Eric Bronson
House and Philosophy: Everybody Lies
Edited by Henry Jacoby
The Hunger Games and Philosophy: A Critique of Pure Treason
Edited by George Dunn and Nicolas Michaud
Inception and Philosophy: Because It’s Never Just a Dream
Edited by David Johnson
Iron Man and Philosophy: Facing the Stark Reality
Edited by Mark D. White
Lost and Philosophy: The Island Has Its Reasons
Edited by Sharon M. Kaye
Mad Men and Philosophy: Nothing Is as It Seems
Edited by James South and Rod Carveth
Metallica and Philosophy: A Crash Course in Brain Surgery
Edited by William Irwin
The Office and Philosophy: Scenes from the Unfinished Life
Edited by J. Jeremy Wisnewski
Sons of Anarchy and Philosophy: Brains Before Bullets
Edited by George A. Dunn and Jason T. Eberl
South Park and Philosophy: You Know, I Learned Something Today
Edited by Robert Arp
Spider-Man and Philosophy: The Web of Inquiry
Edited by Jonathan Sanford
Superman and Philosophy: What Would the Man of Steel Do?
Edited by Mark D. White
Supernatural and Philosophy: Metaphysics and Monsters...for Idjits
Edited by Galen Foresman
Terminator and Philosophy: I’ll Be Back, Therefore I Am
Edited by Richard Brown and Kevin Decker
True Blood and Philosophy: We Wanna Think Bad Things with You
Edited by George Dunn and Rebecca Housel
Twilight and Philosophy: Vampires, Vegetarians, and the Pursuit of Immortality
Edited by Rebecca Housel and J. Jeremy Wisnewski
The Ultimate Daily Show and Philosophy: More Moments of Zen, More Moments of Indecision Theory
Edited by Jason Holt
The Ultimate Harry Potter and Philosophy: Hogwarts for Muggles
Edited by Gregory Bassham
The Ultimate Lost and Philosophy: Think Together, Die Alone
Edited by Sharon Kaye
The Ultimate South Park and Philosophy: Respect My Philosophah!
Edited by Robert Arp and Kevin S. Decker
The Ultimate Star Wars and Philosophy: You Must Unlearn What You Have Learned
Edited by Jason T. Eberl and Kevin S. Decker
The Walking Dead and Philosophy: Shotgun. Machete. Reason.
Edited by Christopher Robichaud
Watchmen and Philosophy: A Rorschach Test
Edited by Mark D. White
Veronica Mars and Philosophy
Edited by George A. Dunn
X-Men and Philosophy: Astonishing Insight and Uncanny Argument in the Mutant X-Verse
Edited by Rebecca Housel and J. Jeremy Wisnewski
HOUSE OF CARDS AND PHILOSOPHY
UNDERWOOD’S REPUBLIC
Edited by J. Edward Hackett
This edition first published 2016 © 2016 John Wiley & Sons Ltd
Registered OfficeJohn Wiley & Sons Ltd, The Atrium, Southern Gate, Chichester, West Sussex, PO19 8SQ, UK
Editorial Offices350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148-5020, USA 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford, OX4 2DQ, UK The Atrium, Southern Gate, Chichester, West Sussex, PO19 8SQ, UK
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except as permitted by the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, without the prior permission of the publisher.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
House of Cards and philosophy : Underwood's republic / edited by J. Edward Hackett. pages cm – (Blackwell philosophy and pop culture series) Includes index. ISBN 978-1-119-09277-3 (pbk.) 1. House of cards (Television program : U.S.) 2. Television programs–Philosophy. I. Hackett, J. Edward, 1979– editor. II. Series: Blackwell philosophy and popculture series. PN1992.77.H634H68 2015 791.45′72–dc23
2015021568
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Cover image: Aleksandar Nakic/Getty
Contents
Introduction: Contemplating a House of Cards
PART I SOCRATES, PLATO, AND FRANK
1 Of Sheep, Shepherds, and a Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
Justice and Power
Underwood's Cynical Use of “His People”
It's Good to Be Bad
Rings of “Power” and Myths
Rings and the “Craft” of Perfect Injustice
Tyranny, Philosophy, and the Search for Meaning in a Cynical World
Can We Really Get Away with Injustice?
Notes
2 Being versus Seeming
“Who the Hell Are You Talking To?”
Frank and the Ring of Gyges
Frank and the Examined Life
Playing the President to Play the President
Real Problems
Notes
PART II IMAGINING POSSIBILITIES: AMERICAN IDEALS IN
HOUSE OF CARDS
3 Frank Underwood Gives the Ideal Society a Reality Check
The Ideals of
The West Wing
and the Reality of
House of Cards
Frank Underwood throughout History
A New Kind of Ideal Society
When John Rawls Embraces Frank Underwood
Notes
4 “What Will We Leave Behind?” Claire Underwood's American Dream
“Burning the Barn to Find Our Penny in the Hay”: Adams's American Dream and
Ressentiment
Claire Underwood: The Resentful
Überfrau
Notes
PART III CHARACTERIZING FRANK: ÜBERMENSCH OR THE PRINCE
5 Underwood as Übermensch
“Power Is a Lot Like Real Estate, It's All About Location.… The Closer You Are to the Source, the Higher Your Property Value.”
“And Others Are There Who Are Like Eight-day Clocks When Wound Up; They Tick, and Want People to Call Ticking—Virtue.”
“You Know What I Like About People? They Stack So Well.”
“I Will Make That Hypocrisy Hurt.”
“He's Got Power. He's Got a Lot to Lose. And Right Now He is Winning.”
“When Has Your Help Ever Helped Me?”
“The Road to Power is Paved with Hypocrisy and Casualties. Never Regret”
“I Will Win and I Will Leave a Legacy.”
Notes
6 Why Underwood Is Frankly
Not
an Overman
Inside the Beltway: Typology, Not Topography
Master Frank: Doing What Is Necessary
“Why Me?” Peter Russo, Slave Extraordinaire
Will the Real Overman Please Stand Up?
Don't
Übermenschen
It
The Under/Over on Frank
Notes
7 American Machiavelli
“We're in a Very Gray Area. Ethically, Legally. Which I'm Okay With.”—Zoe Barnes
“Friends Make the Worst Enemies.”—Frank Underwood
“I'm a Good Christian, Remy, Like Your Mother.”—Frank Underwood
Majority Whip Jackie Sharp: “Mr. Vice President, What You Are Asking Is Just Shy of Treason.”
“Moments Like This Require Someone Who Will Act. To Do the Unpleasant Thing. The Necessary Thing.”—Frank Underwood
Notes
8 Machiavelli Would Not Be Impressed
Education Reform at All Costs
The Original Machiavelli
Failing to Keep Up Appearances
The Other FU Was Better
Maybe Machiavelli Wasn't Serious
Notes
9 Is Frank the Man for the Job?
House of Cards
and the Problem of Dirty Hands
Avoiding the Problem
The Struggle for Power
Facing a Catastrophe
The Solutions
Frank's Dirty Hands: The Wrong Person in the Right Place?
Notes
PART IV CLASSICAL LIBERALISM AND DEMOCRACY
10 Frank the Foole, Upon a House of Cards
Frank the Foole
Hobbes's Critique of the Foole
Is Frank's Behavior Rational?
Frank's Objection and the Hobbesian Response
Notes
11 Hobbes and Frank on Why Democracy Is Overrated
The Fault in Our Democratic Stars
Hungry Like a Wolf
Money Changes Everything
The Policy of Untruth
The Advantage of the Stronger
Notes
12 “Democracy Is So Overrated”
The Underwoods Visit the Kallipolis
Frank the (Unhappy?) Tyrant
From Hobbes to Hegel: Why Monarchs Rule
Are the Underwoods Marxist Revolutionaries?
Are the Underwoods Unstoppable?
Notes
13 “Money Gives Power … Well, a Run for Its Money”
Marx's Method of Historical Analysis
A Case Study in Historical Materialism: Frank for VP
AmWorks: Is Frank's Goal a Capitalist Goal?
Capitalist versus Capitalist: AmWorks and Walmart
Worker Victories: Class Warfare and Class Conflict
Liberal Democracy Is Overrated
Notes
14 Freedom and Democracy in a House of Fear
The “Property Value” of a Surveillance State
Prison of Cards
“Open” House?
Say Nothing
Nobody Can Hear You … Except Us
Notes
PART V INTRAPERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS, SEXUALITY, AND RACE IN
HOUSE OF CARDS
15 Under the Covers with the Underwoods
A Frank Discussion of Adultery
A New Type of Marriage Vow
Tell Me No Lies
Do No Harm
God, Punzo, and the Case for Special Sex
Rethinking Sex and Commitment
The Underwood's Egalitarian Partnership
Incidental Objections
Notes
16 The Spice of White Life
“I Get to Play the Nigger”: The Narrative of Freddy Hayes
The Situation of Black Male Life
Racial Capitalism and the Representation of Black Male Life
Racial Realism and Harassing White Folks
Notes
17 Broken Friendships and the Pathology of Corporate Personhood in
House of Cards
“You Ain't Got to Pretend to Be My Friend”
States and Corporations: What's the Difference?
Tusk and the Punching Bag Walkers
If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em
Why Rousseau?
Notes
PART VI EXISTENTIAL REALITIES: SELF-LOVE AND FREEDOM
18 Praying to One's Self, for One's Self
Leave the Ideology to the Armchair Generals …
Everything Is Permitted
Frank's
Virtù
Assessing Autoeroticism
Notes
19 Existential Freedom, Self-Interest, and Frank Underwood's Underhandedness
Self-Interest and Morality
Consciousness and Freedom
Essences and Freedom
Freedom and Responsibility
Notes
PART VII LET ME BE FRANK WITH YOU: AGENCY, AESTHETICS, AND INTENTION
20 Rooting for the Villain
Resistance to Frank Is Futile
That First Pitch in Greenville
The Whale of Imaginative Resistance
Notes
21 Frank Underwood's Intentions
“The Nature of
Plans
Is That They Do
Not
Remain Immune to Changing Circumstances”
“Decisions Made on Emotions Aren't Decisions at All”
“Take a Step Back and Look at the Bigger Picture”
Notes
22 Francis Underwood's Magical Political Mystery Tour Is Dying to Take You Away; Dying to Take You Away, Take You Today
Useless Things
Exhibit A
Words Are Actions
Full Disclosure
Notes
PART VIII VIRTUE AND CHARACTER IN
HOUSE OF CARDS
23 Frank Underwood and the Virtue of Friendship
“I Won't Leave One of My Own Bleeding on the Field”
“Friends Make the Worst Enemies”
“Life Is Sweet When You Spend It with Your Friends”
Notes
24 Have You No Decency? Who Is Worse, Claire or Frank?
Character Studies and Studies in Character
Richard Plantagenet and Elizabeth Tudor
St. Francis and St. Claire
The Past, the Present Perfect, and the Future Subjunctive
An Indirect Route
Learning from Our Betters
Democracy behind the Eight Ball
We the People
A Guess at a Riddle
Notes
President Frank Underwood's White House Staff (Contributors)
Index
EULA
Guide
Cover
Table of Contents
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IntroductionContemplating a House of Cards
When we first see Frank Underwood, a dog whimpers while he prepares to put it out of its misery. The senator's visage takes on a sinister, villainous look when he tells us directly that he has “no patience for useless things.” From that moment, the visceral darkness of House of Cards sucks us in.
The first time Frank sits down at Freddy's BBQ he licks his lips, ready to devour a rack of ribs. The message is clear: Underwood is a lion and other politicians are the lambs on which he feeds. The Machiavellian senator disposes of his enemies left and right, and his only superhuman power is his inhuman ability to predict the movements of his prey.
House of Cards plays off the anxieties of our current realities, portraying a political world that is captivating and wounding at the same time, provoking our worst fears that politics cannot deliver on the promise of justice. People should reap what they sow, but that doesn't seem to apply to Frank Underwood, who transgresses our deep commitment to morality and violates everything sacred with impunity. Transfixed, we watch as he maneuvers his way to the vice presidency—“One heartbeat away from the presidency and not a single vote cast in my name. Democracy is so overrated”—and then to the presidency.
Our Shakespearian antihero and his Lady Macbeth (played to perfection by Robin Wright) constantly undermine the narrative that truth, justice, and the American way prevail. House of Cards makes us worry, as it should. We should worry that we are not doing better economically than previous generations. We should worry that the promise of postracial America has never been delivered in full. We should worry that corporations have more influence in politics than individual voters. We should worry about the rising inequality that divides opportunity and privilege. We should worry that lesser Franks lurk in corners of the real world. We should worry about many things, and that's the point of the title's imagery: The house of cards may come tumbling down.
To confront the nearly certain risk and danger of politics—even the fictional representation of House of Cards—requires courage. To act politically means risking the very fabric of the human world, yet political action risks the world every day, especially in the postnuclear age. With one mistake, the world can be undone.
In truth, House of Cards offers us a half-truth about our own undoing. Our worries may outstrip concrete realities. Philosophers, though, are very good at worrying, or what they like to call “contemplating,” and this can put them at odds with the concrete practical ends of life depicted in House of Cards. In the contemplative life, you withdraw from the political world to think deeply before returning to the world of action. Indeed, that is the purpose of this book. In these pages, we reflect on Frank and the other political insiders and ask: Will the cards ever fall? And if they do fall, what then? The anxiety is productive, returning us to ourselves, putting us in the state of wonder that Plato and Aristotle say is the beginning of philosophy. Wonder begets courage. So, let us begin.
Part ISOCRATES, PLATO, AND FRANK
1Of Sheep, Shepherds, and a Wolf in Sheep's ClothingThe Cynical View of Politics in House of Cards and Plato's Republic
James Ketchen and Michael Yeo
The road to power is paved with hypocrisy.
—Frank Underwood
The reviews all seem to agree: “The Empty Cynicism of House of Cards,” reads one. “The Most Cynical Show on TV,” reads another. And “The Very American Cynicism of House of Cards,” reads yet another.
The reviews are still coming in on Plato's (428–348 BCE) Republic,1 which ends more optimistically than House of Cards probably will. Frank Underwood and House of Cards in general are modern manifestations of a deeply cynical view of politics, and as such they reflect the challenge of the Sophists presented by Plato in Books 1 and 2 of the Republic. In Plato's day, professional teachers called Sophists taught the youth of Athens the political skills purported to be necessary for success in public life. Key to their teaching was a cynicism about the political world in which the strong get the better of the weak, and where exploitation, manipulation, and, yes, hypocrisy “paved the road to power.”
Justice and Power
The Republic is very much a philosophical set piece, each part carefully designed to further the arguments and ideas under consideration. Early on in Book 1, the character Socrates turns the discussion to the nature of justice.2 In the ensuing discussion, Socrates' interlocutors give several definitions like “justice is telling the truth and paying one's debts,”3 or “justice is helping one's friends and hurting one's enemies.”4 None of these definitions stands up to scrutiny as Socrates exposes weaknesses in them.
A decisive transition in the dialogue occurs when the character Thrasymachus—a Sophist—forcefully intervenes like a “wild beast,”5 saying that the discussion of justice to that point has been stupid and naïve. Thrasymachus offers his own definition: Justice “is nothing but the advantage of the stronger.”6 This account is not so much about how we ought to live as it is about the de facto status of what norms guide us. The rules benefit the powerful. That's just how it goes.
Thrasymachus' view of politics, like Frank's, is deeply cynical. Politics is about power, and nothing more. The powerful will see to it that the rules serve their interest. From the standpoint of those who don't have power, the rules will not be to their advantage but to someone else's advantage. In the course of his defense, Thrasymachus slides from a descriptive statement to an evaluative one: Those who are just (who follow the rules) are dupes or suckers. One would be better off not following the rules, if one had the power and ability, and so living the life of injustice is supremely preferable to the life of justice. It is, in short, better to be ruthless and unjust than it is to be just and taken advantage of.
Underwood's Cynical Use of “His People”
Frank often asserts a kind of ownership over people. Certainly, this “ownership” is not in the form of chattel slavery, but in important respects his relations with other characters go beyond just manipulation.
One of Frank's central strategies is to place people in thrall to him. At one point he refers to his Gaffney, South Carolina, constituents as “my people,” and this means more than just “those like me” or “the people from which I come.” There is a sense of proprietorship in his attitude, as though Gaffney were a kind of fiefdom or, perhaps, apropos of the Republic and Thrasymachus, a flock of sheep. Evocative of this latter image is Frank's admiration for Tusk, who, he tells us, “Measures wealth not in jets but in purchased souls.”
Arguably the most tragic of Frank's “sheep” is Peter Russo, who upon coming to the end of the line with Frank, bleats forlornly, “Whenever has your help helped me?” Frank even gets Russo to sacrifice and slaughter some of his own sheep with the closing of the naval base in Russo's district. Countless lives were ruined, and the social upheaval was immeasurable.
Stamper, Meechum, Sharp, Seth, his Gaffney constituents—all are, for Frank, merely sheep to be used as the shepherd sees fit: groomed and perhaps pampered one moment, fleeced and even sacrificed the next. Admittedly, some of his sheep are more wolf-like than others (Stamper, Seth, and Jackie, for example). In keeping with a metaphor from the Republic, we might think of them rather as “sheepdogs” than “sheep.” Nonetheless, all are at his mercy, all serve at his pleasure, and he makes it clear that he can and will do with them as he pleases. Notably, the most significant early falling out between Frank and Claire, which foreshadows the decisive falling out at the end of Season 3, occurs when she accuses him of using her “like you use everyone else.” Claire is a fellow shepherd, not merely Frank's “head sheep” or, as Jackie Sharp refers to herself, his “pit bull.” She is quick to remind Frank of that status. All of this cynical manipulation was long anticipated in the Republic.
Socrates deploys the shepherd–sheep analogy in attempting to refute Thrasymachus' view that justice is the advantage of the stronger. As this analogy would have it, the relationship between ruler and ruled is like that between shepherd and flock. As a shepherd's charge is to look after and care for the sheep, so too a proper ruler should act only to secure the advantage of the ruled. Thrasymachus will have none of this argument. He turns the analogy around on Socrates: It may be true that the shepherd cares for the wellbeing of his flock, but only insofar as it is ultimately to his advantage to do so. Thrasymachus scoffs smugly (as Frank often does),
[Y]ou do not even recognize sheep or shepherd.… You suppose shepherds or cowherds consider the good of the sheep or the cows and fatten them and take care of them looking to something other than their masters' good and their own; and so you also believe that the rulers in the cities, those who truly rule, think about the ruled differently from the way a man would regard sheep, and that night and day they consider anything else than how they will benefit themselves.7
Much in this exchange comes to life and is reflected in how Frank uses people. The exchange contrasts two views. On one view, politicians ought to strive not for their own interests but rather for those who they are said to represent. On the second view, as a matter of fact politicians ultimately serve their own interests; they serve the interests of the people only to the extent that this advances their own interests. The reason the latter, “realist” view is thought to be cynical is precisely because it grates against the former, “idealist” view. Thus, if the view of politics presented by Thrasymachus and House of Cards is cynical, it is so because it grates against some idealist view we hold about what politics should be.
It's clear enough that Frank has a cynical, or realist, view of politics. Even when it appears that he is acting on behalf of his constituents, like the parents of the girl who drove off the road distracted by the giant peach, he is really acting to advance his own interests (avoiding lawsuits and bad publicity). Everything that Frank does is calculated to advance his immediate and ultimate interests and to augment his power. That is precisely as Thrasymachus would have it. And, if we are honest with ourselves, we will admit that we too often find the realist view attractive. Frank both repels and attracts us after all. As we shall see, it is precisely this tension, between our idealist and realist selves, that makes the Sophist's (not to mention Frank's) challenge so powerful.
It's Good to Be Bad
As if to appeal to the realist in all of us, Thrasymachus shifts the focus of the debate. Not only does he insist that “justice is the interest of the stronger,” but he adds that the unjust life is better and to be preferred to the just life.
To be just, or to act justly, is a “high-minded innocence” or naivety in one's view of the world that sets one up to be used and manipulated. To practice injustice is the best sort of life because it allows the unjust to get the better of the just and to attain what they desire. Justice is either for fools (like Blythe) who don't understand that the stronger have pulled the wool over their eyes, or for those who are too weak (like Zoe's colleague Janine) to challenge the strong.
Early in the series we actually see Frank suffer what, on this realist view, would surely be an “injustice.” Frank is “cheated” out of his appointment as secretary of state. It is a tough blow after all of his hard, loyal work. Frank didn't see it coming because he underestimated his opponents. In this situation, he was gotten the better of because he had played by the rules and expected others to keep their promises and reward loyal service. That Walker and Vasquez broke their promise echoes Thrasymachus' contention that the unjust will almost always cheat on promises, at least when it suits them and furthers their own interests.8 Frank certainly takes this to heart and never looks back, fully embracing prudence and injustice.
A number of characters embody something like the virtues of conventional morality—the just life. Think of Lucas Goodwin, in many ways the paragon of virtue in the show. He is high-minded, out to expose corruption and malfeasance. His love for Zoe appears genuine, and his pursuit of truth is noble and virtuous. Lucas is completely dominated and destroyed by Frank.
Or take Donald Blythe. Whether or not we agree with his policy views, he comes across as an honorable man, true to his word, upstanding, and honest. Given how effortlessly Frank uses and gets the better of him, he indirectly illustrates a Thrasymachian view of justice: While justice might not be a vice, it is a “very high-minded innocence,” a naivety about the world and its workings that sets its practitioners up to be dupes and suckers, ripe for a good fleecing.9 In Thrasymachian terms, the unjust gets the better of the just and the life of the former comes out seeming best. And, if we're honest, we have to admit that our “realist” selves are more attracted to Underwood than to Blythe. Or at least we recognize that the virtuous characteristics we admire in someone like Blythe are something of a liability in politics. It proves expedient for Frank to make him his Vice President, but when the prospect of his becoming a candidate for the presidency is raised, the party power brokers without hesitation accept Frank's assessment that he lacks what it takes.
Heather Dunbar is also instructive in this regard. She begins her run for president committed to high-minded ideals about political campaigning, flatly rejecting, on presumably moral grounds, an offer from Stamper to expose political dirt on Claire. However, as the campaign progresses and things heat up, she changes her mind. She reaches out to Stamper to play the “abortion card,” as if in the interim she had learned the cynical Thrasymachian lesson that nice guys finish last: If you want to win, you have to be willing to hit below the belt.
Rings of “Power” and Myths
Frank's Sentinel class ring is not necessary to further the plotline, but it serves an important, symbolic purpose for both Frank and the viewer. Typically, when he bangs his ring, it is in the context of some new scheme. It's as though through this process he invokes a kind of power, a resolve to get the thing done. He even has a myth about its origins: that his father told him it both hardens the knuckles and knocks on wood—preparation and luck. It's unlikely that this origin story is true; we have already learned, through an aside during his sermon at the Gaffney funeral, that Frank has no respect for his father (a point that gets reinforced in Season 3 when he urinates on his father's grave). However, it does make for a good story that he can use to impress others.
In “Chapter 8,” focusing on the new library at The Sentinel, we learn that it was at this formative military academy that Frank “learned his craft.” The ring then, as a reminder of that place, may well be a token of his craft, representing his skill at manipulation and his ability to get the better of others through deception and treachery. For our purposes, the ring also links House of Cards to one of the greatest thought experiments in moral philosophy: the Ring of Gyges story in Book 2 of the Republic.
The character Glaucon introduces the story to sharpen the position of Thrasymachus (who by now has withdrawn from the dialogue in disgust) by showing that most people would choose the life of injustice if they knew they could get away with it. The story concerns a shepherd, who comes upon a magic ring that gives him the power to become invisible. It's not long before he puts the ring to good (or bad) use by gaining entry into the palace where he seduces the queen, kills the king, and usurps the throne. His ring makes him all-powerful and able to fully realize the life of injustice. Who among us, Glaucon argues, possessing such a ring, could resist the temptation to get all that we wanted, acting unjustly while appearing to the world to be just?
Obviously there are no such rings of power, and yet there are people who think they can (and often do) live the life of injustice and get away with it undetected. They have a kind of special ability to mask or hide their injustice, making it invisible to the rest of the world. Certainly Frank has such an ability, and he likely developed it at The Sentinel. But there's more. Frank not only has the ability to appear just while being unjust, he also has the ability to make others who are just appear to be unjust.
Rings and the “Craft” of Perfect Injustice
The library dedication at The Sentinel is important for the development of Frank's character in the show. We have already seen that he has a craft or skill for injustice. He has told us that he is like the plumber whose “job it is to clear the pipes and keep the sludge moving,” but to the school president he stands for and “exemplifies” all the values and virtues The Sentinel represents and tries to instill: “honor, duty, discipline, sacrifice, service, and respect.” Frank's reputation, at least at The Sentinel, is that of the man of justice. All of this was anticipated in the Republic through Glaucon's challenge.
That challenge ultimately has us imagine two different characters: the perfectly unjust individual in contrast with the perfectly just individual. The former, Glaucon tells us, will “act like the clever craftsmen”10 who will know what is possible and impossible to achieve, and should he “trip up he has the skill to fix things.” While he will achieve the greatest of injustices, he will have “provided himself with the greatest reputation for justice.” Perhaps most telling, “through words and deeds,” he is able to persuade and to use force to achieve his ends. With his skill and cunning, the unjust person will “rule because he seems to be just,” and he will be rewarded with riches and honors and will always get the better of others in both private and public affairs. In short, through being unjust while appearing just, he will have the best sort of life.11
Glaucon contrasts this characterization of the ideal unjust man with that of the perfectly just man. Such a person will actually have a reputation for injustice, lying, and deceit. He will be shunned and ridiculed. In the end, he will be made to suffer all manner of torment. He “will be whipped; he'll be racked; he'll be bound; he'll have both his eyes burned out; and, at the end, when he has undergone every sort of evil, he'll be crucified and know that one shouldn't wish to be, but to seem to be, just.”12
House of Cards brings this contrast to life through the clash between Frank and Lucas Goodwin. Lucas, of all the characters in the show, is arguably the most just. He is honorable and pursues the truth about injustice and corruption. Led astray and entrapped by Frank's minions, he is made to seem like an unjust man. If all of the stories of the state of American prisons are true, he will be made to suffer the greatest of torments, what in the modern world might be comparable to the fate of he whom Glaucon describes as the “seeming unjust just man.”
Tyranny, Philosophy, and the Search for Meaning in a Cynical World
The model that Thrasymachus holds up for would-be politicians is the tyrant,13 the perfectly unjust person who can do whatever he or she wants, a characteristic that Claire ascribes to Frank in discussion with their dying bodyguard. And in Season 3, while listening to a broadcast of a speech in which Frank extols the virtues of the founding fathers for their fight against tyranny, veteran Telegraph reporter Kate Baldwin, aware of his ruthless machinations, retorts that “he is the tyrant.”
No doubt Frank is a tyrant, but the model of the tyrant that Plato sets up for purposes of his argument is the perfect tyrant. There are reasons to suppose that Frank falls short of this ideal. In this regard, it is useful to contrast Frank with Petrov, the Russian President, who appears to get the better of Frank in Season 3. Compared with Petrov, Frank comes across as being somewhat weak. The show drives this contrast home in a rather clichéd and stereotypical way by accenting Petrov's machismo (he downs vodka like water; he openly flirts with Claire), on the one hand, and attenuating Frank's (e.g., he cries and is sexually attracted to men) on the other.
Clichés aside, the main difference between Petrov and Frank is that Frank, at least as far as the plot has developed so far, seems to have a conscience and something in him that moves him to reflect on the meaning of his life and his actions beyond mere calculation. Petrov and Frank are both murderers, but we see no evidence that Petrov has any qualms about this. Frank, on the other hand, shows signs of having, and struggling against, a guilty conscience. We see him on two occasions in a church, as if being on the verge of prayer or confession, and seeking some kind of meaning to his actions and life beyond mere power and calculation. Visiting the church in “Chapter 30,” echoing the question of the Republic, he tells the priest that he wants “to understand what Justice is.” He does not like the answer the priest gives him, and dramatically rejects it by profaning a crucifix. Nonetheless, he is tortured by the question, and appears to remain so. One might say that Frank's weakness (from the standpoint of the “ideal” tyrant), is that, in part, his nature is irrepressibly searching and philosophical, a claim that some commentators have made of Thrasymachus.
This hint of melancholy that Frank begins to display in Season 3 points to at least one further connection between House of Cards and the Republic. In Book 9, as Socrates is coming to the end of his long defense of justice and the just life, he returns once more to a discussion of the tyrannical personality.14 Such a person, we are told, lives the worst sort of life. The driving force of the tyrant is an endless desire for self-aggrandizement and the pursuit of self-interest. He can trust no one and can be really close to none. Eventually he pushes away all those he thought loyal. He lives in isolation, fearing to venture out. Those who stay steadfast are mere flatterers or sycophants. Of him, Socrates asks rhetorically,
Isn't it necessary that he be—and due to ruling become still more than before—envious, faithless, unjust, friendless, impious, and a host and nurse for all vice; and, thanks to all this, unlucky in the extreme; and then, that he make those close to him so?15
As Season 3 ends, Frank is being abandoned by all those who had been his closest servants and partners, not least Claire. He is becoming almost pitiable in his isolation and his single-minded pursuit of power for power's sake. He is abandoned and alone. As Socrates would say, he is living “the worst sort of life.”
Can We Really Get Away with Injustice?
So, can Frank get away with it? House of Cards has not answered this question yet, though as Season 3 ends things don't look good. To be sure, if the final season follows the book or the UK version, Frank's injustice will not triumph in the end. The bad guy will not finish first, in the long run. He will be found out, and so he will not be the example of perfect injustice. Hollywood always tells the story that way: The bad guy loses in the end, but only because he gets caught (and therefore is not truly a super-crafty bad guy).
But the problem presented by the cynical view of politics transcends the question of whether or not Frank “gets away with it.” Rather, that problem, for us as it was for Plato's characters in the Republic, and may well be for Frank himself, is “Why ought we choose the just over the unjust view of politics?” We want to know, in other words, even if the villain does win, is his life truly the best? Socrates, Plato's mouthpiece, ultimately argues that there is no getting away with injustice because injustice in the soul (our true selves) is like a disease in the body. The unjust person is out of sorts and cannot live with himself. It is much better to be a just person with a clear conscience because only in this way will our true selves, our souls, find harmony and balance. Certainly the cynicism of House of Cards, like that of the Republic before it, leaves us wondering whether this is true, and of course that's why it too is a brilliant portrayal of this age-old problem.
Notes
1
Plato presented his philosophy in the form of a series of dialogues, and
Republic
is considered his greatest achievement. The dialogues are dramas and relate their message through the give and take of philosophical discussion and argument between the characters. Plato's main character was his teacher, Socrates, and in
Republic
at least it is safe to assume that what Socrates says is what Plato believes. When discussing the ideas of the dialogues, it is customary to do so as they are expressed by the distinct characters who present them. Just keep in mind that always in the background is the author, Plato. The translation we use is that by Allan Bloom: Plato,
The Republic
, 2nd ed. (trans. with notes and an interpretive essay by Allan Bloom; New York: Basic Books, 1991). All modern translations have adopted the practice of using the same original page numbers in the margins. Thus, the accepted way to cite Plato is via reference to these numbers. We follow that practice here.
2
The Greek term is
dikaiosune
. No one English term quite captures its full meaning Traditionally, it has been translated into English as “justice.” That can seem strange to modern ears because we often think of justice in terms of political and social institutions and our relations to them. However, in using the term, Plato has in mind something more extensive, like morality, right and wrong, and virtue. It is in this moral sense, concerning the “proper,” “right,” or “good” ways in which persons should conduct themselves, that the term is intended in Books 1 and 2. In Book 3, Plato proposes an important analogy relating justice at the individual level of moral behavior and justice at the level of the society—justice in the soul of the individual and justice in the city or society. This analogy marks a significant transition in the book and is central to its argument.
3
Republic
331–332.
4
Republic
332d.
5
Republic
336b.
6
Republic
338c.
7
Republic
343b.
8
Republic
343d.
9
Republic
348d.
10
Emphasis added.
11
Republic
360e–361e.
12
Republic
361e–362a.
13
Republic
344a.
14
Republic
571–592.
15
Republic
580a.
2Being versus SeemingSocrates and the Lessons of Francis Underwood's Asides
John Scott Gray
The very first moments of House of Cards communicate to the viewer that we are watching a different kind of show. After hearing only the sound of screeching tires and the whimper of an injured dog, we see Francis Underwood coming out of his home to investigate. After telling his security guard to inform the owners of the hurt animal, he begins to talk—to the dog? To himself? As his words about two kinds of pain—one that makes you strong and the other that is useless suffering—wash over us, we begin to realize that we are somehow involved in what we are seeing. He looks at the camera—at us directly—and we have our first Underwood aside. As Underwood declares that he has no patience for useless things and begins to suffocate the dog, putting it out of its misery, we begin to realize that this show and its asides are going to involve us, perhaps even implicate us as accessories, in the activities of its chief protagonist. Underwood does what he calls the necessary and unpleasant thing, and we somehow know deep down that this is not the only unpleasant activity we will be involved in.
Other forms of media have used asides, most famously Shakespeare and several motion pictures (including Ferris Bueller's Day Off). House of Cards is perhaps unique, though, in employing asides over multiple seasons of a dramatic show, allowing us to peer inside the protagonist's mind in a way that conveys philosophical lessons.
“Who the Hell Are You Talking To?”
Many television critics have discussed the way House of Cards, with its all-at-once release, may signal the movement away from broadcast and cable television to an on-demand streaming world of entertainment. Other critics have pointed to the combination of big-name Hollywood figures, with David Fincher as director and Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright as stars, as a sign of the continued rise of the small screen as an important artistic medium. The show has received widespread critical attention, even receiving a 2014 Peabody Award, describing Spacey's Frank Underwood as guiding “the viewer through a modern-day tutorial of Machiavellian politics” and “[f]or broaching new possibilities for television storytelling and investing them with characters and plot turns at once wildly exaggerated and yet as unsurprising as the evening news.”1
Much of the buzz around the show, however, has been about Underwood's asides. His practice of breaking the fourth wall and appearing to interact directly with the viewers has garnered a great deal of attention, both serious and humorous, ranging from an article in the New Review of Film and Television by Mario Klarer titled “Putting Television ‘Aside’: Novel Narration in House of Cards,” to Spacey's appearance at the 2013 Emmy Awards, where he turns to the camera during an argument on stage about who should be hosting the show, talking about how he had been promised the job but had been turned down “for someone more likeable.”
Perhaps the most entertaining reference to House of Cards and its asides was offered by Julia Louis-Dreyfus, in a White House Correspondents' Dinner bit in which she played her character Selina Meyer from Veep alongside real-life Vice President Joe Biden. As part of this short film, Louis-Dreyfus turns to the camera and in a nice vocal and tonal impersonation of Frank Underwood states, “Yes, we can all look directly into the camera, Kevin—the point is, you're not supposed to,”2 before offering a couple of plot-spoilers for House of Cards. Echoing a question asked by many fans, Biden asks her, “Who the hell are you talking to?” Critical of the asides, the New York Post's Kyle Smith refers to them as “Hannibal Lecterisms addressed directly to the camera,” adding, “This technique doesn't become insufferable immediately—it takes about 15 minutes.”3
Critics of the asides aside, several theories have been formulated about the meaning of the asides. Spacey himself says that when he performed the asides, he actually had a specific person in mind. “Instead of thinking that I'm talking to lots and lots of people, I'm talking to my best friend.… The person I trust more than anyone.”4 Others have talked about how the asides are pedagogical, designed to teach us the art of politics “as though [former Speaker of the House] Tip O'Neill were sitting down to explain that all politics is local.”5 On this view, Frank's messages communicate his political strategy and help us understand the ways in which he is on top of the situations that develop around him, as well as how he deals with adversity. A third theory considers the asides as a tool for the manipulation of the audience, for “Frank's asides not only explain the plot but craft our impression of him. He's constantly making the case that Francis J. Underwood is a savvy political operator around whom all others gravitate.”6 On this view, Frank is playing the audience in much the same way he plays the other characters to get what he wants.
While these asides clearly play a role in the development of the narrative, taking part in a tradition that goes back to Shakespeare, this chapter will instead focus on some of the philosophical lessons that may be learned when contrasting Underwood's asides to us with his statements made to the other characters when he emerges from his private camera conversations. In particular, we will explore the ways in which Underwood and his relationship with the camera fit with his perceived attitude and behavior during the remainder of the series.
Frank and the Ring of Gyges
Underwood's hidden agenda is revealed through his asides. The distinction between having knowledge and appearing to have knowledge is a central concept throughout Platonic philosophy. It also serves as a main identifier of the difference between Socrates (Plato's teacher, who serves as both the central character and primary inspiration for Platonic philosophy) and his arch-nemeses, the Sophists. The Sophists focused on the use of rhetorical tricks to manipulate people's beliefs, something that Socrates and Plato fundamentally rejected.7
Plato's philosophical texts provide us with many lessons in Socratic philosophy. One of those lessons, which dominates the Republic, has to do with the being-versus-seeming distinction. The example that begins the discussion is the Ring of Gyges, a myth that centers around a magical ring that allows the wearer to become invisible. This invisibility would give one the power to accomplish anything they desired, with the added bonus of being able to frame others for those crimes while appearing completely innocent. The wearer of the ring does not have to be a just man, but instead can simply have the reputation of being a just man. This may be what people most want anyway, for “they do not praise justice itself, only the high reputations it leads to.”8 This story of the Ring of Gyges raises the question of whether it is better to be a good man who is seen by the masses as bad, or a bad man who is seen by the masses as good. Is it better to in reality be a good and just person, or to just appear as one yet enjoy the spoils of a devious life? This question dominates the remainder of the Republic, as Socrates discusses with those around him how best to understand the nature of justice. The details of that discussion are not relevant for this chapter, but the importance of the distinction between being and seeming is, for it captures a conflict that many of us feel ourselves throughout our lives, because wanting to present a public persona that would be accepted, respected, and popular is a desire that we feel everywhere from how we dress to what we choose to post on Facebook.
Frank Underwood illustrates this dichotomy. His actions often seem to have one motivation, but his asides reveal his deeper, truer motivation. As a politician, Underwood is very concerned about seeming to be in control, even in moments when he admits to the viewer his uncertainty, his weakness, or his awareness of the risks that he is taking. Early examples of this include his manipulation of the White House Press Secretary and his attempt to get the Vice President to pursue the Pennsylvania governorship. We also see Underwood's concern for appearances when he travels home to South Carolina to try to disarm the situation surrounding the car accident near the Gaffney water tower. Public perception is the air that Underwood and all politicians breathe. Even more important philosophically is the degree to which Underwood challenges Plato's Ring of Gyges position—for House of Cards to this point teaches us that it is far better to be the bad guy who seems good. Frank enjoys the spoils of a life lived outside the bounds of morality (adultery, corruption, and murder), yet keeps on winning.
Frank and the Examined Life
According to Plato, living a life consumed by opinion polls can be harmful because it places one in the position of being controlled by the whims of an uninformed population. Socrates was famously put on trial in Athens, found guilty of corrupting the youth and impiety, and sentenced to death. While awaiting his execution, Socrates was jailed and his friend Crito planned to break him out. Crito is concerned that if he does not plot to save his friend, people will say that he had the resources but did nothing. Socrates responds, “[W]hy should we care so much for what the majority think … they cannot make a man either wise or foolish, but they inflict things haphazardly.”9 In his defense at trial, Socrates discussed this theme again, talking about how it is the expert that has knowledge, not the untrained majority.
The real problem with knowledge, according to Plato, is that many people claim to have it, when in fact it's actually a very rare element. The Oracle at Delphi said of Socrates that no one was wiser, yet Socrates himself had a hard time accepting this. Thus he went about testing others who he and others thought were wise, only to be continually disappointed. “I am wiser than this man; it is likely that neither of us knows anything worthwhile, but he thinks he knows something when he does not, whereas when I do not know, neither do I think I know; so I am likely to be wiser than he to this small extent, that I do not think I know what I do not know.”10 At his trial, Socrates chastises the citizens of Athens, saying that they live in “the greatest city with the greatest reputation for both wisdom and power,” yet instead of caring about wisdom or truth, they are eager for money, reputation, and empty honors.11 The people of Athens are in a daze, and Socrates believes that he has been placed there by divine powers to help them wake up and reevaluate their existence. This reevaluation involved living what Plato and Socrates called the examined life—asking questions and seeking answers. The answers sought were not merely the ones that sounded correct or felt comfortable or convenient, but instead were true. Knowledge is thus true belief justified by the process of continual examination—not the whims of convenience.
Unlike Socrates, Frank Underwood is not living the examined life. He pushes full speed ahead seeking greater position and power, but to what end? Motivations and missions do not appear to be a large part of the conversation, so the viewer is left with a picture of Frank as the scheming and power-mad politician who has forgotten why he wanted power in the first place, save having it itself. When he is appointed Vice President, Frank comments that there are two types of VPs, doormats and matadors. He claims to be the latter, but in fact Underwood is the bull—raging in the china shop with little concern for the destruction he causes.
Underwood's asides may not show him examining his motives, but they do draw the viewer in—creating a personal relationship with Frank. We see how he is in the asides—his true self—and can contrast that with what he shows to others. What does our relationship with Frank, and the degree to which we root for or against him, say about us? Without the asides, we would still see the bad things that he does (killing Russo, killing Zoe Barnes, and misusing FEMA money to fund America Works), but with the asides we see that these actions are not simply spur-of-the-moment events done out of passion—they are actually premeditated.
