Agent Hotchner: the Leader of Leaders

When your main cast are all cops, no matter of what description, you have a problem you need to solve. Law Enforcement attracts natural leaders, and if you are a woman or other type of minority you have to be a dominant personality to make it. Most cops are natural leaders, independent people who don't like those that interfere with them but try to interfere with others. Often they have deep-seated issues with authority. How do you keep a cast full of these people together? how do they cooperate effectively if none of them want to follow each others' instructions? how can they work together if they are constantly meddling in each others' affairs? There are a few ways of course. One is to have them all be recognized experts in a skill, and establish those boundaries firmly early on. This can set the story up for a devastating twist if one of the team members is lost. But, there's another route to take as well: one that allows the team to survive even if it's composition changes. A super-leader. A character who is inspirational enough that otherwise aggressively dominant people look to them for guidance and discipline.

Like Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, from Criminal Minds. yeah yeah, that show again. I binge just like the rest of you ok. Hotchner, or "Hotch" as he is known is not the type of character you expect on this type of show. In fact, he's more like the typical hero of a Noir film or a Western: a man with a dark past seeking personal redemption. Hotch used to be a Federal Prosecutor, with the unsettling stare to prove it. It's never quite said: but it's clear what happened. Hotch hated putting people to death whom he believed had a chance to change. As an FBI agent he has both the ability to stop people from getting so far that they have to be killed, and the ability to offer plea deals so that they won't face that possibility. But there is one important respect in which Hotch is not like a typical Noir or Western film hero: he's not a loner. In fact, he was the one who assembled the BAU team: before him, BAU detectives worked alone as simple consultants for local police. What's particularly intriguing about him as a character, is that despite his position of authority he is not an aggressive man. Rather, he is a natural defender. He never threatens someone unless it's to protect someone else, nor does he ever shoot except to defend someone else. In the whole series, Hotch never attacks with a gun or even shoots to defend his own person: it is always to defend either a victim, a team member, or some other ally. Pretty surprising when you consider that just about every episode has a gunshot in it somewhere. Nor is Hotch ever aggressive towards his colleagues, even when he's angry. If he does get snappy, it's because pressure is being placed on him from outside. He is however, stubborn. Challenging him head on is an exercise in futility, he just digs his heels in deeper and deeper. He simply does not give up. This is a flaw, and sometimes it certainly drives the other characters nuts or even leads the team into danger. But it's also why he can do his job. Hotch can go toe to toe with the worst scum of humanity and not become like them himself because he is stubbornly committed to goodness.

That is not to say however that he cannot empathize with the killers. In fact, he does. Hotch's best quality is that he is unwilling to look away from them, no matter how horrific their actions. Hotch refuses to shy away from walking the tightrope between empathizing with the very real pain that many of these people feel, and condoning their actions. In fact, he is often the first person to confront them with the question of why they believe that their actions logically follow from their emotional experiences. Many are genuinely surprised to learn that others feel the same emotions they do, but don't feel the need to kill or hurt others because of it. That is, when the villain of the week isn't a good old fashioned psychopath. There are plenty of those on Criminal Minds too: for the non-dramatic filler episodes that they don't expect the audience to remember. Or for the multi-episode arcs where the killer attacks one of the team members personally. These, Hotch doesn't bother trying to empathize with because he knows it won't do any good. The only thing to do with them is to put them in the slammer.  But, a killer need not be a psychopath: and indeed the most common type of villain presented on the show is not. The most common type is the sexual sadist. Hotch is the perfect foil to this type of killer: because he represents everything they think they are (if they are also narcissists), or wish they could be. They fantasize about being dominant, and perceive themselves as underappreciated: but Hotch actually is dominant. He is in fact given genuine and undisguised fealty by other dominant personalities. Yet he has gained that place by doing exactly the opposite of what the killers think that dominant people do. These killers fail to elude him, no matter how smart they are, because they've been misled. It's a deconstruction of toxic masculinity, which is not what we expect from a cop show.

Yes, I did just say "fealty".  It's a word that Americans don't like and for good reason. But, it's warranted here. Several times, the tech analyst Garcia outright calls Hotch "my liege". Although she has a flair for the dramatic, it is very clear in this context that she isn't really joking. When Agent Jareau gets what is obviously a better job, Hotch actually has to twist her arm to get her to take it: and she comes back after only a few episodes. Now, Agent Jareau is one of these dominant personalities that Hotch nevertheless is able to command. Like I said before, in order to make it as a woman in law enforcement you have to be a dominant personality. In fact the show goes out of it's way to highlight how much of a dominant she is in the episode "Jones". In this episode the local NOPD detective, William LaMontagne Jr. a clearly submissive man trying and failing to fill his father's big shoes, falls for her while the team is working on a case there.  In the next season he reappears at Agent Gideon's resignation party where he and Jareau have a heartfelt conversation. This conversation ends with an astonishing twist: he commits to giving up his career as a cop in order to move halfway across the country, marry her and be a stay-at-home dad. She didn't ask him to do this, and it isn't presented as a sacrifice. It's clear that he actually wanted to get out of that job, and away from the gender expectations of the Cajun culture he was raised in. French-influenced Cajun culture does tend to place a lot of pressure on men to take leadership positions, as well as to be domineering in their personal interactions. When confronted with a naturally dominant woman he instantly throws all of that to the wind: showing maturity and unusual self-acceptance. Rather than seeing himself as cowardly or weak, he revels in playing a supportive role alongside an aggressive and tough leader.

Agent Jareau's aggression is emotional rather than physical, because she is female and fighting with larger stronger opponents wouldn't be very smart. But she is unafraid to attack a killers' delusions head on or hit them where it hurts in order to flush them out, even if it paints a target on her head. However, as a member of the BAU, she never actually has to make herself a target. Hotch always has her engineer the statements made to the press so that he will be the target of the killer's rage. And this is the primary reason why Agent Jareau feels the way she does towards Hotch. She knows he sacrifices his own safety to protect her on a regular basis.

Secondarily, despite being in a position of official authority, Hotch has no trouble letting Jareau be something of the team mom. She has the authority to decide which cases the team works on, and he allows her quite a bit of freedom in doing her job. He does not feel threatened even when she needs to be handed more authority. Once he even outright asks her to take on more authority for a case where her particular talent for communications is critical to getting a favorable outcome. He lets her handle meddling reporters, and his orders to her are deliberately vague. In other words, he does not question her loyalty to the team.

This is one of his most interesting traits. Although he is in a position of official authority, Agent Hotchner has never demanded personal loyalty from any of the team. This is precisely why he can do what he does: he demands loyalty to the team, but has no concern for whether people are loyal to him. This is of course because he isn't in this position for the purpose of having power: he's here on a personal mission. People are loyal to Hotch precisely because he doesn't demand it. In particular, Agent Morgan is fanatically loyal to Hotch, but he would never choose to follow a man who demanded loyalty. At one point, Hotch needs to give up his leadership position for the benefit of the team. Morgan is the one who takes over. But when Agent Rossi voices concern that Morgan might not be willing to give up his position, not only is Hotch unfazed he's actually dismissive. He is completely correct to be: Morgan hands over power without any question or trouble, as soon as Hotch is allowed to be back in charge. Now, Morgan is another natural leader: and also falls into the category of "could only have made it by being aggressively dominant" because Morgan is black. He's been willing to grab power for his own advancement before. But he is genuinely troubled when Hotch asks him to take over power, not because he believes that he's incapable of doing the job, but because it goes against what he views as the natural order of the world. This is why I used the word "fealty". Morgan isn't simply loyal to Hotch, he isn't simply willing to put his life on the line for Hotch. He believes that it's a violation of the world's natural order if Hotch isn't in charge of the team.

Now, not everyone on the team believes in the idea of a natural world order: Morgan is somewhat unusual in that regard. But there's nothing unusual about his feelings towards Hotch: when Agent Strauss (who is Hotch's boss) is attempting to remove him from power, the team members all speak up for him vociferously. They all not only believe he should be on the team, but that he should be it's leader: again, despite most of them being naturally dominant personalities.  These are not people who usually feel like they need a leader, they're more likely to resent authority figures than to feel like they need one. They can operate independently, and they are unafraid to question anyone claiming authority including Hotch. But, they become almost desperately afraid at the idea that Hotch could be taken away from them. Those team members who aren't naturally dominant, express their fealty in a more overt way. Garcia outright calls Hotch "my liege" more than once, and Dr. Reid shows him filial piety. Reid has issues trusting people, though with good reason: his mother is schizophrenic. But he trusts Hotch beyond what would be normal for a friend or battle comrade: not just with his life and his darkest secrets. No, Reid is willing to let Hotch hurt him for the greater good. He once comes up with a plan to outwit a killer that involves Hotch kicking him (so that he can steal Hotch's second gun and use it to incapacitate the heavily armed criminal). He is later genuinely surprised that Hotch was gentle with him. 

Now, yes, Reid is in need of a father figure. But why does he show this level of devotion to Hotch and not to Agent Gideon or Agent Rossi? Because Hotch with worthy. Because Hotch reacts to this love appropriately, by mirroring it back. When Reid is in trouble, Hotch goes on the warpath. The thing is, Hotch finds Reid annoying. They don't like each other, if they didn't work together they would probably never be friends. But because Reid expects Hotch to look out for his welfare, Hotch does an impeccable job of doing just that: without any expectation of reward. In fact, he faces punishment for doing that and doesn't care. And it is this which finally explains why he has the position that he has, why he deserves to be the leader of this team. Why, if there is such a thing as a natural order for the world, then part of that is Hotch being in charge. He goes all out for people he doesn't even like, even when facing punishment from superiors, without any expectation of reward. He can lead people who are natural leaders because he is selfless. When he decides what to do, the question he asks himself is "what does this person need?" not "what do I feel like doing?"

This is even true when he's dealing with the killers. He's not thinking about what they want, after all he knows what they want. He's thinking about what they need in order to grow as people, and be productive members of society. Many of them have compulsions or addictions, either to the killing itself or to torture. Jail and therapy could very well lead to them actually kicking their habit. An addiction to hurting people is not fundamentally different from an addiction to alcohol or drugs, in terms of brain chemistry.  Others, especially the younger ones, could simply outgrow their problems in jail. Many young terrorists do grow up to regret their actions, their youthful disaffection wearing off as they fully mature and their life situation changes.

Criminal Minds: Focus on the Heroes, not the Villains

Serial Killers often get romanticized. They are often handsome, charming, charismatic or perhaps just daredevils. Their twisted minds are fascinating to us neurotypical schmucks, their lives are full of danger and adventure appealing to the animal instincts in all of us. Their behavior satisfies our desires for deviance and rebellion: we start to see the victims as they do, as symbols of society's corruption. We forget that they were human beings just like us.  Sometimes the cops who catch them are even demonized or blamed for causing more problems, although the most loved ones commit suicide before they can be caught. The line between freedom fighter or soldier of God, and serial killer can get hazy. Some would say there is no line at all. Too often, Hollywood plays into this narrative about killers. This narrative that tells our boys that the way to solve their problems is with a gun or a knife.  Noirs are often full of gray morality, with the detective often being little better than the criminal.  Even worse: stories of murderous duos are made into romance stories or buddy stories. Like the classic Noir, Criminal Minds satisfies the audience's desire to examine the mind of a serial killer. Unlike a classic Noir, Criminal Minds does not glamorize the killer. It glamorizes the agents who take down the killer.
Now, the FBI that exists on the show is highly idealized even if still imperfect. It's response to racism, sexism and homophobia is what we would like to see from a governmental organization, but not what we actually see. What we actually have is an FBI that spends more time investigating the sex lives of kids who went to a nightclub rather than the life of the man who gunned them down. An agency that prefers to act as the morality police, while perpetrators get away thanks to corruption and local police incompetence or unpreparedness. The Behavioral Analysis Unit is real, but they're more likely to be reading this blog for signs of anarchist sympathies, than catching a terrorist or a murderer. The government we have is so far from understanding how real humans behave that they would seriously consider the possibility that terrorists used the general chat of a video game to communicate. A chat log that millions of people worldwide are reading in real time. In the age of Onion routers that seems highly implausible to say the least. Nevermind that reading these chat logs meant snooping on thousands of peoples'  sexual lives, as well as other private business. All of that however is unimportant for the show. After all, the purpose of fiction is to imagine what is possible: what could be but isn't.
What could be, is an FBI who truly tries their hardest to protect the citizens of this nation. What could be, is a BAU that turns their brilliant minds to catching the sickest criminals in the world. What could be, is a government that leverages every resource to keep it's citizens safe and help them live better lives. What could be, is a team of heroic agents who put their lives on the line for each other and the potential victims of killers every day. If they were soldiers, they would be the most decorated in the world after what they've been through during the series. They've sacrificed other careers, marriage, and sometimes their physical or mental health. Although they live in America among all the comforts of ordinary society, they have more in common with people living in war zones. They are five people with totally different personalities, all motivated by a common purpose: to deliver justice. They all know that despite their impressive talents, they cannot always succeed. They are all complicated people who make mistakes: but there is no question that they are heroes. When push comes to shove, they choose good over evil every time. That is what separates them definitively from the people they hunt: whether those people are troubled kids, vengeful victims, or remorseless psychos. But the show is not about the killers or about their kills. It's not about the victims like Law & Order SVU, or the crime scenes like CSI. It's about the BAU agents themselves. The villains and victims are foils for the agents, designed to bring out their character traits: to challenge them and make them grow.
This is not a reality show, nor is it designed to feel like one. Of course all the science is researched and at least plausible if not 100% agreed upon. All the theories that the agents use to profile the suspects are regarded as at least plausible by scientists, and the forensics is beyond controversy. But, the suspects are carefully thought out. They are not for the most part actual killers, although all the episodes are likely based on actual cases. But both the killers and the agents are based on literary tropes, and the structure of the episodes is literary.
The show has a standard villain-of-the-week structure: with the killer generally being apprehended at the end of each episode, even if he is going to appear again later. This structure is used to drive home the show's point: the killers are actually less interesting than the people who catch them. The most common types of killer are presented as actually being common: the sexual sadist, the pure psychopath, the home invader, the vigilante. This makes them, for the audience, routine: a filler episode. The audience knows to expect that the bulk of the episode will be spent on interpersonal relationships, not on the daring escapades or gory details of the villain. There won't be anything particularly interesting about the villain: instead we'll likely be introduced to a great side character, and/or treated to some team drama. There are of course the memorable villains: the serial murderers with huge body counts, the avengers, stalkers, terrorists, psychotics with lurid delusions, the mentally ill or impaired who accidentally kill, the teams, the weird cults etc. Here, the viewer knows, the villain(s) will be chosen as a foil to one of the team's members or for the team as a whole. These episodes might take some twists and turns, and even become half-season story arcs. But at no time is there ever a season-long villain. This has to be done on purpose, in the era when television is straying more and more towards long arcs and away from it's episodic roots. The purpose is to keep the focus squarely on the heroes. It is to reinforce the idea that the purpose of the killers is to test the heroes, to make them grow. There are season-long arcs, and it is important to watch the episodes in order: but they are focused solely on the heroes, whether it's about one team member's personal growth or the growth of a relationship between two of the team members. This is a meditation on the darkest parts of humanity, and the evil at the heart of our society: it only masquerades as a detective thriller.

Marco Polo: Criticism versus Demonization.

Imperialism is bad. However, it is important to remember why imperialism is bad. Concentrating power in the hands of one person is bad. But it's easy to forget why it is bad. The 2014-2016 TV show Marco Polo deftly reminds the audience of why imperialism and concentrating power in the hands of one person is bad. It does so without resorting to exaggeration, dehumanization or demonization. Indeed, it shows how demonization, exaggeration and dehumanization are the tools of Imperialism: not the tools to break it down. Kublai Khan and Prime Minister Jia are nemeses: long-time foes, in some ways so similar but also in fundamental ways so different. And both are sympathetic. These are both people who have, at various times in history, been called both heroes and demons. But this show feels no need to choose one as it's hero and the other as it's villain. Indeed, one of the best things about TV shows is that, due to their episodic nature, they do not need to pick heroes and villains: a character can be an antagonist in one episode and the protagonist in the next one.

Jia is not the villain, and his actions are both patently cruel and entirely sympathetic. [Side note: he is frequently referred to in the show as "Sidao", but this is his given name. Like all Chinese people, he puts his family name first: so his full name is Jia Sidao, but he would be addressed as "Mr. Jia"] The show gives the audience a true appreciation of the impossible situation that Jia finds himself in: a virtual prisoner within his walled city, taking care of a boy Emperor who doesn't even know what being Emperor means yet.  He is a mouse sitting inside a trap, and he knows it. Or as he himself might have said: a grasshopper in a cage, being stroked with a brush. That is Jia's favorite pastime, provoking grasshoppers to fight: so much so, that he is called the "cricket minister" by his enemies. But it isn't simply for amusement. Like everything Prime Minister Jia does, it has a purpose. He observes the grasshoppers, learning how they move. This is, by the way, a real thing that Chinese scholars did and they developed something called "grasshopper kung fu", which was based on the movements of grasshoppers and which was extremely hard for the uninitiated to combat. Mostly due to how few people knew about it. But in a metaphorical sense, Kublai Khan is holding a brush over Jia and making him twitch. He knows he cannot win the physical battle against the Khan.

However, he can win the political battle. He can inspire the people of southern China to believe in the Song Dynasty as they never did when it was at it's height. [side note: the name of the dynasty is not a translation. Their name was "Song" also written as "Tsung" or "Tsong".]  He can make the Khan regret taking the city, make him pay for victory with blood and tears. Jia is a commoner, who worked alongside his sister Mei Lin to become Prime Minister. He's clearly also a child prodigy, he can't be more than 30. In many ways he's similar to Kublai Khan: practical, willing to make sacrifices for the greater good, calm under pressure, a good long-term planner.  And like Kublai, Jia is willing to take power by any means necessary. However, unlike Kublai, Jia overestimates how much power he truly has. He believes too strongly in the ritual words of flattery and in the power inherent in his office as Prime Minister, too much in the loyalties of people who have no reason to love him or his cause. Kublai Khan knows that in order to keep someone's loyalty, you have to give them something that they want. Jia ultimately fails because he tried to shunt aside the Empress Dowager, he tried to make himself regent for the new Emperor. Because of this, the Mongols have enough loyalists in the South that they can hold onto it: even as revolutionaries fight fiercely. Jia's machinations give Kublai just enough leverage to destroy the Song and their legacy.

Of course, Kublai Khan is no conquering hero. He's a man who stole the throne, and has never sat easily on it. He must generate goodwill from his people by expanding the Empire, and even that doesn't completely stave off rebellion. After all, not every Mongol sees the Empire as completely beneficial. They worry about losing their traditional way of life, especially when they look at Kublai's half-Chinese son Jingim. In order to control Northern China, the Mongols had to take on some traditions and to move their administrative center to China. They gave the city a Mongol name, Cambulak, but there isn't really any escaping the fact that it's China. Nor is there any escaping the fact that Kublai is both Khan and Emperor. He has to wear that golden robe with the five-toed dragon: otherwise the Chinese will revolt. But to the Mongols, it looks like he's selling out. Things are hardly that cut and dry of course: Katie Jones gave both the characters costumes that delicately balance Chinese and Mongol aesthetics. Kublai keeps his clan's traditional hairstyle, but tends to wear Chinese style slippers: the obvious reason being comfort.  Jingim wears his hair in a Chinese fashion, not that the girls are complaining, but also wears the traditional Mongol boots and his robes are cut in a decidedly more Mongol fashion: at the knee, rather than the ankle length that would be typical of Chinese civilian clothing. Although made from silk, they are also considerably more tailored: he knows he has a great figure, whereas his father uses the Chinese cut of his robe to disguise his beer gut.

The show also feels no need to demonize Arik or Kaidu: the two rebellious chieftains who challenged Kublai Khan's rule. In particular, the show treats Kaidu very sympathetically: and does an excellent job of showing off how complicated he was. While Arik was mainly just a straw-man conservative: Kaidu is something entirely different. Yes, he's a skeptic of the Empire: but he isn't simply afraid of change. Indeed, Kaidu is an agent of change, just as much as Kublai or Jingim. His vision is for a more egalitarian Mongol society: with female leaders, and an elected ruler who is not put above his people. Kaidu is a man in a family of strong women, who genuinely respects them and sternly teaches his son to do the same. His vision of the Mongols'  future is based on a romanticized notion of the distant past: but it is very much a vision of the future that takes into account the political realities of the present day. In other words, he's a feminist several hundred years before that word was even invented: and he's committed enough to start a war. The only thing he hasn't banked on, is Marco's bizarre willingness to protect people who have hurt him. He would have succeeded in killing Kublai to take the throne if not for Marco's last-minute and unexpected intervention. Marco Polo, the son of a disgraced merchant, decided the fate of half the world by stabbing Kaidu in the back. It's almost a tragedy, because Kaidu is a genuinely noble man.

Yet Kaidu's death makes room for another noble man to succeed. Jingim Khan is not known in the West, for a good reason. He was not an expansionist. Having been elected fairly, Jingim had no need for aggressive foreign policy. He was forced into an isolationist stance by the Catholic church's racism, despite them having a common interest in defeating the Ottoman Caliphate. He chose to neither aid nor fight them, which probably led to their ultimate victory in the Holy Land. Jingim isn't simply pretty. The tragedy of his life is that he can't have a child. Chabi makes the hard choice to sanction the rape of his wife, so that he will have heirs and she tries to do it without his knowledge. But he surely knows what really happened, and surely it's painful for him to know even if nobody else does. But Jingim knows that he must make peace with who he is, he learned that from his father.  Kublai is under no illusions about who he is: he is aware of both his virtues and his vices, and never wants to avoid the consequences of his choices. He knows that he carries the fate of half the world's people on his shoulders, and that he cannot always control his impulses.  He knows he stole the throne, even if he has earned the right to sit there through his actions. He knows when he meets men who are better than he is.  Men like Yousef, Hundred Eyes, and Jingim. Far from feeling threatened by these men, Kublai appreciates them and knows that they make him a better person. Indeed, Jingim's virtue is a source of hope for Kublai: an antidote to the cynical world of politics that he so often has to live in. Despite all his faults and struggles and crises, Kublai Khan raised a son who could be a better man and a better ruler than he could. Since Kublai Khan is remembered as a great ruler, that's saying something.

If this show has a hero, then surely it is Yousef. At first blush, it seems like he is the stock Evil Vizier character. But like I said before, the best thing about TV is it's episodic nature. Yousef is first presented as an antagonist because Marco is working for Ahmad, who is Yousef's rival. It basically boils down to Yousef having zero tolerance for bullshit, and Ahmad being a walking pile of it.  But, then the perspective shifts when Marco finds Yousef's house. Yousef is the Khan's lieutenant, his right hand man: and when Jingim was younger, the designated regent. It's expected for a man in his position to use that position as a way to enrich himself. Yousef has not done so, his house is bare and he wears his shift (underwear) at home. His court clothes, it turns out, are his only clothes. For a man in his position this is beyond restrained: it's ascetic. But in the end, we can see that Yousef is not doing this simply for himself. His interest is in influencing other people to good behavior: and it works. He knows that everyone around him, including Kublai Khan, views him with awe. Then he manages to upstage himself. Marco reported false information to the Khan, which got men killed at the first siege of Chongqing: the city that Jia Sidao controls. Marco didn't know the information was false, but the people are demanding vengeance: so Marco is condemned. At the last moment, he thinks of a way to earn his redemption: giving the Khan schematics for a wall-destroying siege engine called a trebuchet. A normal catapult can't destroy a wall: it can't throw the stones hard enough or far enough. But a trebuchet uses spin to throw heavy objects faster and farther: so far out that it can't be hit reliably by archers, or even by a typical ballista. They're harder to make, more finicky to use, and crucially in this scenario: useless against personnel. They are not accurate enough to target even large groups of soldiers with any reliability, so they are useless for defense unless the attackers have built structures.  Still, someone must pay for the lives of the soldiers. Yousef sent Marco on the mission, but the Khan doesn't want to punish him. However, Yousef forces his hand by writing his own confession. This act of sacrifice is a message both to Kublai and to Marco. Yousef says to Kublai, that he should never let anyone avoid the consequences of their actions no matter how great they are or how dire the consequences. Yousef says to Marco, that no one is going to abandon him as long as he sticks with the Khan. You see, that's the thing about Marco that Kaidu and Ahmad and Jingim didn't understand: but which Kublai and Yousef did. Marco doesn't care whether people like him or whether they are good: he only cares that they don't abandon him. He's willing to protect, serve and care for people who have hurt him: so long as they don't abandon him.

Marco demonstrates this further by saving Jingim's life at the second Siege of Chongqing, without having been asked to. Jingim and Marco didn't exactly hit it off. Marco's honesty hurt Jingim's pride: and the Prince had it out for him for a while. But then, as he lay with arrows in his body among his men, Jingim heard an accented voice cry "Get to the Prince!" He was surrounded by shields, and lifted up while Marco and Byamba led some men in pushing the defenders back.  They were outnumbered, but the fight was personal to Marco in a way it hadn't been before. He'd only been fighting the Chinese before because he was told to, he couldn't care less about them. But now, he was fighting for his life: because if this siege of Chongqing failed then he would surely be executed. Better to die on the field. A man with nothing to lose is the most lethal kind of man: as military commanders, detectives and terrorists have always known. Marco Polo, at the second Siege of Chongqing, was a man with nothing to lose. Marco and Byamba push the attackers all the way back to the palace, with the rest of the Khan's men streaming in behind them. The Chinese fight well, but they're no match for the enraged Mongols. Finally, Jia Sidao is cornered but he too fights to the bitter end. The show gives Jia his well earned poetic justice, by having Hundred Eyes beat him at Grasshopper kung fu. Hundred Eyes being the ironically named blind Shaolin monk, whom the Khan keeps enslaved by threatening to destroy all of the Shaolin manuscripts if he leaves or disobeys.  The show is pretty unashamed of it's love for kung fu choreography, although it keeps the physics-defying stunts to a minimum.
The Siege was successful, and Marco doesn't just earn back his place as the Khan's agent. He gains the friendship of Prince Jingim as well. But most importantly he demonstrates his best quality: his willingness to help people who have hurt him. Marco is no saint, and does not think he is: but he does have this particular Christian virtue, even if there was a mundane reason why he has it.  This is something Kublai and the Mongols have never seen before, it's not something their culture encourages or teaches: but they understand that it's something to admire and try to replicate.
Ahmad is the perfect foil to Marco, because Ahmad parodies this trait. Ahmad appears to be gracious, easily helping people who have hurt him and being kind to people who have tried to be mean to him. But underneath the controlled exterior which has fooled everyone, Ahmad is seething. He's furious, so much so that he has dissociated: until the day when his real identity and the one that the Khan constructed for him collide. It happens when he unwittingly has sex with his mother. She has become a prostitute, the only way for a woman alone to support herself in those days, and he happens to encounter her in a brothel. The realization that he slept with his mother is too horrific, he goes into a psychotic rage and kills all the women including her. And then the rage calms, but the psychosis doesn't.

Yet, Ahmad has a good heart: he doesn't like the violence he is now capable of, the killer he has become. It's the ultimate recipe for making a killing machine: take a boy and strip him from his family, pamper him like a pet but never treat him as an equal. It's what the Ottomans did to the Janissaries, and before them the Persians did to the Immortals. Only Kublai Khan accidentally pointed the weapon he'd created at his own heart. Ahmad's internal conflict fuels his fetish: he wants to be tied up so he can be sure he won't hurt anyone, he wants to be dominated so as to be reassured that there isn't anything wrong with his dark desires. His masochism only enables his ruse, indeed it's the only way such a thing could work. When the Khan compliments him and gives him gifts, Ahmad reacts with genuine happiness. But the problem with reactions is that you can't actually tell what the person is reacting too: just whether or not it's genuine. Ahmad isn't lying, he is truly happy: he's just taking perverse pleasure in being humiliated and dominated rather than reacting out of true love. Ahmad can be patient in conditions that would have broken other peoples' resolve, because he isn't in constant pain. But he is furious and vengeful. The one thing Kublai does not understand about himself is that his love for Ahmad is born out of guilt for what he did to the people he conquered. Raising Ahmad is a way for Kublai to rationalize his Imperial ambitions in a paternalistic way, to see himself as bringing the light of civilization to other lands.

There is a lot to be said for the hybrid Mongol-Chinese culture that has grown up at the court in Cambulak: but the merits of this culture do not inherently justify imperialism. People should choose to take it on, not have it forced upon them. Kublai does genuinely love Ahmad, but his failure is in understanding that Ahmad can never reciprocate his love. Ahmad nearly tears apart the society that Kublai has worked so hard to build up. He made one simple mistake, and that was enough. He believed Mei Lin loyal to him, he believed she hated the Khan and was loyal to the Song Emperor. She wasn't. She only wanted her daughter. Mei Lin ended up helping to kill Ahmad: ah, excuse me, Jia Meilin, sister of Jia Sidao.

The show doesn't need to demonize Ahmad in order to tell this story, nor does it need to demonize the Jias. It doesn't even need to demonize Prince Nyan: the reformed pedophile brother of Kublai.  Prince Nyan and Ahmad are good men who have desires they don't like: they deal with these things in different ways. In many ways Nyan illustrates precisely what is wrong with Ahmad: he does not have any way to release his true feelings. Nyan's method is gruesome, but on both a physical and emotional level highly effective: he stabs his own hands, mimicking the Stigmata or wounds of Christ. Yep, he's Christian: having converted after being confronted with the damage his behavior was causing. His self-torture would in fact be effective at restraining his desires, and perhaps even works as a kind of Pavlovian conditioning (although this type of conditioning has only limited effectiveness in organisms of human-level intelligence). When you experience pain the brain releases cortisol, which counteracts any dopamine that might happen to be in your system. This stimulates the fight or flight response, which shuts down the sexual response really quickly. Because Nyan does this every time he feels the desire to molest a child, his brain would soon begin to associate the pain with the desire. This would be effective at restraining him from acting on the desire, and indeed he would probably react violently to the suggestion that he should act on it. But, the desire is only repressed, not vanished. Dogs can't repress their desires: they're incapable of lying about how they feel. But humans can repress their desires: they can act in a way that opposes how they feel sometimes without anyone being able to realize that.

Which brings me (I know, finally) back to Marco. When Marco kills the wolf that is about to rip Kublai's throat out, he's doing something he has every reason not to do. When he stabs Kaidu, Marco is doing something he has every reason not to do. When Marco saves Jingim, he's doing something he has ever reason not to do. But Marco knows that in each case he's doing the right thing. Or, as Kublai says, "the hard thing". This is Kublai's greatest strength as a ruler.  He's willing to do whatever is the right thing, regardless of how personally painful for him in might be. But for him, this is something learned: a duty that he is bound to because he is the Khan. For Marco, it's natural: Marco doesn't care if the people around him are morally good, he doesn't care if those people even like him. All he cares about is that they won't abandon him: because that's the one thing he can't stand the thought of. Marco needs a society, a community, and he'll do anything or overlook anything to get it. He'll brand his own father, stand by as his friend is hacked to pieces, fight to protect a man he doesn't like, betray a woman he loves, build a machine to destroy a city, rat out his mentor, etc. Kublai just by being Khan offers Marco what he needs: a supportive authority figure, a father figure. There's a reason we call kings "Sire", and it's because they're supposed to act this way towards their country.

Of course, it doesn't always happen that way: and that's the key problem with monarchy as a system of governance. It's not because all kings are bad but because nobody has the power to stop a bad one. Empire isn't bad because all Emperors are bad: but because Empire-building destroys people's lives and puts cultures at risk. The most benevolent and enlightened rulers in the world can't change that. There is no need to spin a false narrative that all absolute rulers are evil in order to criticize the idea of monarchy. There is no need to demonize every conqueror in order to criticize the idea of conquest, every emperor in order to criticize the idea of Empire.

The Dragon Prince Season 1: A trio of Trios

Three. For some reason, it's an extremely compelling number to us humans. It is embedded in religions across the world: from the trinity of gods at the heart of Hinduism, to the Holy Trinity of Christianity. Perhaps it is because our own consciousness has three parts. At least, so thought Sigmund Freud. In a way he was wrong, but also in a way he was right. He was wrong in thinking that the sections were quite distinct, and also about how unrelentingly dark the Id was. Freud was a Spencerian in his view of humans: He felt that humans were essentially evil, and that the Id was our most essential part. Therefore, any evil desires would necessarily belong to the Id. However, most philosophers now disagree: having seen first hand over the course of the 20th and 21st centuries how logic and reason can be twisted to produce horrific evil. Humans, it turns out, are neither essentially good nor essentially bad. Our Ids are just as complicated. But the way in which Freud was correct, was in thinking that this is our most essential part: the part that comes first. Now, typically the Freudian trio is used for comedic effect: with the id character's impulsiveness instigating the series of misadventures, while the ego character tries to stop things at every turn, and the superego character tries to mediate between the two. This is the heart and soul of the classic movie Ferris Bueller's Day Out: where Ferris represents the id, Janet represents the ego, and the principal represents the superego. Of course, it can be used for drama: as was excellently done in Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean and in The Hunger Games.

All of these stories have one thing in common: the female member of the trio-whether she represents the ego (like Hermione) or the superego (like Elizabeth Swan) or the id (like Katniss)-must choose between the two boys. The two boys, in addition to representing one of the three parts of consciousness also represent childhood and adulthood. Hermione's choice of Ron rather than Harry, represents her maturity: diplomatic, emotionally open Ron represents the superego, so choosing him represents a desire for ascension. For Katniss, choosing cool-headed Peeta who represents the ego over fiery Gale who represents the superego represents a desire for stability. For Elizabeth Swan, choosing Will over Jack represents a desire for authentic maturity rather than blustering swagger.

But in The Dragon Prince, all of that is thrown out of the window. Ezran represents the id, Callum the superego, and Rayla the ego. However, the two boys are children. Rayla doesn't need to choose one of them: in fact, she needs to protect them both. In fact, if any character is going to be choosing romantic partners in the coming seasons it will be Callum: he is getting to be old enough and isn't an outcast in his society. But he wouldn't be choosing between the two members of the trio, since Ezran is his adopted brother. He would be choosing between Rayla, and Claudia the villainous seductress (whom the first episode sets up as being his crush). It also wouldn't be a multi-episode arc (or three book/movie arc). 

This is unusual: a trio of characters who aren't a love triangle. It has become a signature of Aaron Ehasz and Justin Richmond, creators of this show and the beloved Avatar: the Last Airbender. There, because Sokka and Katara are brother and sister and Aang is a child: the usually tightly closed group of heroes is left slightly open.  Other recurring characters can form relationships with the heroes more easily. This allows more chances for character development and solo arcs.

 Like many other classic trios: Ezran, Callum and Rayla fulfill another trope. Big, Thin, and Short. This is a staple of comedy: but here it is used both for comic relief and for drama. Ezran is indeed grumpy, as the short guy tends to be: and being the youngest of the trio, he is also short. However, his age recasts his grumpiness as childishness: rather than being grating or curmudgeonly.  His pet toad Bait is also annoying, but again: the behavior is recast as the antics of a not-so-intelligent animal. Rayla, just like the classic Thin guy, is both genuinely kind and grumpy by turns. Her grumpiness however is clearly a defense mechanism: a way to keep herself from getting hurt in a society that isn't as compassionate as she is. Rayla, unlike the two boys, is selfless. She's ready to lose a body part, rather than kill Ezran. But the viewer can't hold the boys' selfishness against them: because they're children.

They are also Land, Sea and Sky. Rayla represents the Land, the shade of the forest canopy and a connection to nature. She fears water, which represents the way in which water can wear away landscapes. Callum represents sky: he carries the primal storm, has the most affinity for air and lightning magic, and he has mercurial moods which only Ezran can temper. Ezran represents the water: he has a fascination with it, has formed a close bond with an amphibian, and is emotionally sensitive. Like the classic Big guy, Callum is the consistently good-natured one in the party. Here though, this overlaps with the pure-hearted hero trope: Callum is unerringly and inherently virtuous, and even at such a young age he is able to persuade others to do the right thing. Which means, what we have here is another Jason and the Argonauts story: the story of a man becoming a king. The title of the show after all, has a certain unavoidable (and probably intentional) association. Sure, yes, it's clear from the first episode that it's there because the Dragon Prince egg is the McGuffin. So, like the Maltese Falcon, the show is named after the object that the characters all care about a great deal. But this egg means nothing to the audience.

The title however is meaningful to the audience because of it's association with the myth of King Arthur. And that is what we have here: we have an Arthurian legend, but quite a modern one. Pendragon, that's the surname associated with Arthur in the legends: and it roughly translates from Welsh as Dragon Prince (the word "pen" can have many different meanings, but one of them is "chief" which seems the most likely given that this is a person's name).  Here it isn't so much associated with the actual dragon egg, as with Callum: the prince with power of lightning and air. At the end of the season there is also an intrinsic association between Callum and the newly hatched dragon: because it was Callum's quick thinking and quick action which saved the baby dragon's life. Mages and dragons are also inherently connected: as magic requires using draconic words. Thus Callum is in many ways much more deeply connected to the dragon prince than any of the other characters.  But the first thing that the trio need to do is get the dragon prince back to his mother: the dragon Queen. This has incredible significance for their world, because it is the killing of the dragon King, and the loss of his only son that drives the war between the humans and the elves. Or at least, it was. Now, can three children correct centuries of racism and bitter blood feuds? can a single baby dragon make up for the thousands who were lost? Season 2 certainly isn't going to be boring. 

Tormund Giantsbane: the Purpose of the Fool

*Warning, a lot of crude language and mental images you don't need ahead*

Tormund Giantsbane is hilarious. He's so funny, it can be hard to see him as anything other than just the comic relief. He does play that role, especially in the rag-tag band that Jon Snow assembles to go north of The Wall in season 7 of Game of the Thrones. But Tormund is more than just the guy with the great jokes, and that stupid story about fucking a bear. Yes, he is that one character who constantly talks about penises that seems to be obligatory for HBO shows (at least since Spartacus, and Gannicus saying the word "cock" in every sentence).  Tormund has more colorful words for the male genitalia, but almost everything that comes out of his mouth has something to do with sex. Not just jokes either, even in his more serious moments he's more often than not talking about sex: either giving advice to Jon Snow, or moaning about how Brienne won't notice him. But he isn't just a nymphomaniac: he doesn't have the nihilistic worldview.  In fact, Tormund is the antidote to the depressing and cynical world he inhabits: and his seeming obsession with sex is part of that. He doesn't talk about sex the way that other men in Game of Thrones talk about sex. Even the "good" characters like Ned Stark talk about sex more often than not as a type of conquest: a way of asserting one's will over someone else.  Most of the female characters talk about sex this way too, and experience it this way.

The negative and positive sides of this are explored in the characters of Sansa Stark and Margaery Tyrell. Sansa is on the receiving end of sex as conquest, not once but twice: strongly shaping her view of sexuality and marriage. She becomes frigid because she has been hurt, closing herself off from others. This even extends to people who can't be sex partners, including her sister Arya. Margaery Tyrell is on the perpetrating end.  She uses sex as conquest to control Thommen Baratheon, getting him to idolize her by objectifying and coddling him. This is a problem ultimately, because when he is confronted with real responsibility he simply can't deal with it.

Even Danaerys was brought up thinking this way about sex, and all on her own discovered a different attitude towards sexuality. This is why the relationship with Daario Naharis is important to her character arc: he shows her the world of affirmative sexuality, completing her recovery from the trauma inflicted by her brother. 

Jon is similarly hung up about his sexuality, because he believes he is a bastard. He is too genuinely kind to want to bring a child into the world who is going to suffer the way he has suffered.  The only way he could express his sexuality was among the wildlings, where if Ygritte had a child by him then s/he would be treated the same as any other. At least, until his death and rebirth.  At this point, his old identity as Eddard Stark's supposed bastard son is stripped away. He is simply Jon: not a bastard, not a brother of the Night's Watch, but a man. A man who can be a King. As the only (at that time known) surviving male in the Stark family, he is named King in the North: a position he could not have held if he were a bastard or a brother of the Watch. But these old positions in society have ceased to have meaning: because Jon has awoken to a broken world. Now Jon can begin to think of sex in a new light: not as a way of exerting control over someone, but as yet another way of helping others. Tormund is there to show him how that is accomplished.

You see, the reason why Tormund makes jokes is because Tormund wants to make people laugh. I know, I know, that sounds extremely obvious but if you think about it that makes him something almost miraculous in the world of GoT.  Tormund, is a nice person.  He just wants to make people smile. He's untouched by the Machiavellian machinations of the other characters. He has a nose for bullshit, and doesn't touch it with a ten foot pole. He doesn't care about his own advancement: he just wants people to be safe and laughing. Of course, this does actually get him advanced: to lead a band of wildlings. The way in which Tormund's way of talking about sex is different from the other characters is highlighted by the way he becomes the leader of that wildling band. Rattleshirt, like most of the men in this world, thinks of sex as conquest. He insinuates that Tormund plays the submissive role in sex with Jon i.e. that Jon has conquered Tormund. But let us contrast this moment with another before we examine Tormund's reaction. Sandor Clegane much later on insinuates that Tormund would submit to him in sex. In that case, Tormund reacts by misdirecting the conversation: he shows no sign of being offended, if anything he almost sounds interested (like I said, mental images you don't need).  In the case of Rattleshirt however, Tormund goes ballistic and kills the guy. Why? because Rattleshirt is insinuating that Jon would enjoy dominating another man. This is an insult to Jon, a man so altruistic he's willing to die repeatedly for others. Tormund knows if he doesn't stand up for Jon, then no one will.

For all that Tormund talks about sex constantly, he doesn't actually do any.  That isn't the point though. While everyone else is talking about death: Tormund is talking about life. Everyone else is unhappy, cynical and depressed: but Tormund is focusing on living, on finding joy in life and bringing that to others. He understands that it is especially now, as the long cold and dark winter full of horrors begins, that people like him are needed most. People kissed by fire, with red hair and sunny spirits. There's an even deeper layer to it as well. Sex is honest, you have to get naked to do it. You can't lie about who or what you are, to someone you're having sex with. Tormund talks about sex to show he's being honest: and to get others to be honest with him. It's a way to cut through the bullshit to find out who someone really is. Tormund understands something crucial that many people in this world don't seem to: flattery isn't complimentary, it's denigrating. Lying to someone about how good they are, or what they are capable of is an insult to that person. It's telling them that you think they are stupid enough to swallow your lie. When people start to deify Jon, Tormund quietly cuts through that: with a dick joke of course. This isn't just because it's Tormund's signature style. It's because joking about his penis reminds everyone that he has one: i.e. that he is a man. In fact it reminds everyone that the best and most wonderful thing about Jon, is that he is a man: not some theoretical divine being who cannot be truly known.

Of course, Tormund understands why people deify Jon. This is a world where men, especially men with power, routinely sacrifice others for their own self-interest. Here is Jon, who has already sacrificed himself for others and is willing to do so again. This is outside their understanding and expectations. But what Tormund is saying, is that Jon can be understood. He has motivations for doing what he does, which any of them could understand and relate to. Understand, relate to, and copy. People love and revere Jon because of his passionate commitment to serving others. But Tormund knows they could go beyond simply obeying his commands, bending the knee, or treating him with reverence. They could try to be more like him. They could try to put aside their selfish concerns, and see the larger picture. See the dangers posed by the oncoming winter and how they could use their resources to help more people than just their immediate family. Tormund isn't just lightening a tense and awkward moment, or saving Jon from embarrassment, he's making a radical statement about human nature. That's one deep dick joke right there.

Kayley: Real Innocence versus Victorian Nonsense.

Firefly was a great show. It got Jossed, a term for shows cut short because they were written by Joss Whedon or because they had similar writing to Joss Whedon's style. Now, there are many Whedonisms which are the primary cause of shows being Jossed: and Firefly is by no means immune to these problems.  However, the one problem it can't be accused of is flat characters. 

Kayley is the ship's engineer, and cute as a button. Props to the casting by the way, for choosing an actress who could look absolutely adorable in a 1940s style Rosie-the-riveter suit. She's also one of the two comic-relief characters: the other one being the ship's wisecracking pilot Wash.  Kayley knows a lot about engines, and a lot about adult stuff. It's evident she grew up around men who fixed stuff and talked about intimate details of their personal lives as they did so. She also has a persistently optimistic outlook on life. So, in what way is she naive? She does not know social conventions or for that matter have any interest in them. She does not care about taboos such as the taboo against discussing sexuality. However, she is never mean. Kayley genuinely cares about people, and understands what it means to respect others. Her frankness can make them uncomfortable, but she is never unkind. She does not understand the reason for taboos, and doesn't like the concept: but she is fundamentally unaware of how completely good-natured she herself is. She believes everyone else is just like her. The rest of the crew think that an angel has come to live with them. In this sense, she is naive: failing to grasp that other people don't think the way you do is in a sense childlike.

However, this is not an example of the "Born Sexy Yesterday" trope because Kayley is not the hero's love interest, and she is actually aware of what sex is (and is also definitely aware that some people find her attractive). What she doesn't understand is society. Her lack of knowledge about society is also mostly purposeful: she views society as ridiculous, and so refuses to respect it's rules. This is demonstrated by the fact that she can, and does, parody different segments of their society. She understands the ways that people act: even if not why they act that way. For Captain Mal in particular, her optimism and unironic blunt kindness is genuinely transformative.

But Joss Whedon does not fall into the trap of assuming that Kayley can only transform Mal if they are in a sexual relationship. It's in fact much more of a father-daughter relationship: with Mal taking the place of the father that Kayley lost when she was young, and Kayley taking the place of the child Mal always wanted but never had. She is the character who is capable of breaking through Mal's nihilism: showing him that his life is meaningful, and that he is a good man. Mal is a mercenary, not by choice but because of his circumstances. He has PTSD and survivor's guilt as well.  His experience is clearly meant to mirror that of a Vietnam or Korean war veteran: A man who knows he did terrible things, wonders why he survived, finds his current employment distasteful, and is disgusted by the ingratitude of those around him.

Of course, this is hardly a new experience (although very often it is treated that way). The same motivations drove Vespasian to a coup against the Emperor Claudius, only to devastatingly discover that there was no way to stop the Roman war machine-Roman society was too dependent on it. Mal has read his history, and doesn't bother with the political coup. He also doesn't run away from his emotional problems by becoming addicted to something. He simply buries them. He pretends like everything is okay, but he's letting his self-loathing and his fear of loss determine his actions.  He is like my Uncle, one of the many many so-called "successful" veterans who came back from Korea unable to tell anyone how broken they were and are. The only way Mal is able to make sense of a society that rejects his efforts on it's behalf is to essentially believe that he is in hell: and if he is in hell, that must mean he is a fundamentally evil person. He is unable to see that he is a good man who has been treated unfairly because he believes all the good men died in the war. It is only through Kayley that Mal can come to see the world for what it actually is, how unfairly he has been treated, and that he has the ability to reject that unfair society completely. But this is only because Mal respects Kayley enough to believe that her fundamentally hopeful attitude towards the world isn't born out of ignorance. It comes from observations about the world that he is blind to.

This transformation in Mal, sets up the events of the movie Serenity where Mal accepts actual fugitives of the government onto his ship even though one of them could potentially kill him and his crew in their sleep. The Tam siblings are not simply marginalized people: in fact they grew up privileged. They are wanted fugitives and criminals, and Mal is eventually willing to not simply transport them but accept them as crewmembers. Mal and his crew have hitherto kept themselves on the gray side of the law: but now Mal is willing to risk a complete break with the society that has oppressed and rejected him and his little family.

Kayley is innocent, or in French "naïve", in the original sense of that word: of not understanding, and therefore not being persuaded by, evil. This is what it means when Christ is described as Innocens, unknowing. He does not feel hatred, bitterness, pride, anger or any desire to hurt those who have hurt him: in short, he has no evil impulses. When he is in the wilderness and being tested by Satan, he demonstrates that he cannot be corrupted and persuaded to choose evil. To be clear here: the Satan of the Bible is not a being of evil, but God's servant. Jesus in fact goes to the wilderness for the express purpose of being tested by Satan: essentially to test the connection between spiritual being and mortal human, to be sure that the plan really will work. The normal word for "to know" in Latin is "scire", which means literally "to see": another word is "sapire" which is similar to English "to figure out".  "Nocere" in Latin means a deeper form of knowing, more like our word "to feel", or the colloquial meaning of "to dig".  It's an emotional form of knowing rather than an intellectual one: a gut feeling about what is or isn't right. If you are innocent in the Christian sense, you don't "dig" evil. It has nothing to do with the Victorian notion of innocence as a lack of sexuality: a notion that we still have in our society today.

Despite Bridge to Terabithia, and the repeated testimony of child psychologists: we refuse to accept that children have sexuality, and understand what it is. They have no interest in grownup sex, but that does not mean they cannot understand the emotions that exist between people who are in romantic and sexual relationships. This leads us to fail our children, by failing to teach them about healthy romantic relationships and healthy sexuality. So, they learn from the media: which tells them all kinds of wrong and harmful things about relationships and sexuality, their own or other people's. Even when parents tell their children where babies come from, they frequently neglect to mention other important aspects of adult relationships. Children understand the concept of romantic love: they conduct romances with each other, or between toys. This is natural and normal. 

That is not to say children aren't innocent: they are. They are innocent in this older sense: of not understanding, and therefore not being persuaded by, evil. If they hurt each other, it is out of ignorance rather than malice. They do not yet understand that others think differently from them, and therefore cannot feel actual hatred. They have no reason to be self-conscious, prideful or bitter because they do not yet know that others judge them. They feel frustration and disappointment, but not anger because they are not yet aware that there are people who would want to hurt them. If they get hurt, they believe it is either a natural consequence of their own actions, or an accident. So they are quick to forgive and move on, but also liable to blame themselves for the psychological problems of adults. Children do not understand abuse, they do not understand that it is possible for someone to gain satisfaction from exploiting and hurting them. That is what innocence really means. It doesn't mean their eyes need to be covered every time a woman's naked breast happens to appear.

Katniss Everdeen-the Harm Caused by "Positive" Objectification.

Katniss Everdeen is hardly the typical hero of a romance story, or a dystopian story. She's too flawed for the former, and too naive for the latter. The heroes of dystopian stories are usually clear-eyed hard-boiled survivors: not unlike the detectives of noir films. Katniss starts the story fundamentally unaware of just how horrific the regime she lives under really is. District 12 of Panem as Katniss knows it, is something of a haven. It's low population makes it less threatening, and the fact that no tribute from 12 has won the hunger games in several decades also contributes to the Capitol's lax attitude. There is a strong community that has formed around the black market, since the police are lazy and corrupt. People are poor, but they are generally happy. After the death of her father, Katniss has taken on his role in the family: hunting illegally and selling her catch at the black market, since she's still considered too young to work in the coal mines which are the official industry of District 12. She keeps her head down, and stays safe in relative anonymity. 

Or, at least, she thinks she's anonymous. But here's the part where her naiveté comes in. Naiveté doesn't mean a lack of factual knowledge: it means a lack of knowledge about the impact you have on people. It means not believing that people notice your actions, and not needing them to. It means in other words, not needing external validation. Katniss knows what she does for other people, and what other people have done for her. She doesn't need someone to tell her that she provides food for her sister and mother and saved their lives after her father died. She knows what her skills are, and what they aren't. She does not need the Hunger Games to know she is a good hunter.  She even talks with her best friend Gale about running away from the District and living in the woods. Katniss is however blind to the impact she has on her community. Her hunting allows other people, like Greasy Sae, to have a livelihood. She isn't just keeping her own family fed, she's keeping other people's families fed too. The meat she brings in, is likely the only meat they ever get. The berries she picks are crucial for their nutrition, as much as they are for her sister Primrose. This is even true for the relatively wealthy: like the Mellarks and the mayor's family. Evidently, fruits and vegetables are luxury products in this dystopian society. She isn't just raising her own family's standard of living: she's raising everyone's. Thus, when Katniss volunteers to be in the Hunger Games to take her sister's place: the whole community is affected. This is why they give the District 12 salute to her as she leaves (which by the way is similar to the real world Girl Scout salute, nice touch Suzanne Collins).  But just because Katniss hasn't noticed the way in which she lifts up those around her, doesn't mean this is lost on everyone else. After all: Katniss is only 16. That level of self-awareness would be odd in someone that age. Haymitch and Peeta Mellark have noticed.

Haymitch is secretly a member of a rebellion against the government of Panem, along with the forgotten District 13.  It is never explicitly stated that Haymitch informs the other conspirators about Katniss: but he's the only one who could have. Haymitch is the previous winning tribute from District 12, with a mysterious past that has caused a drinking problem. He's a (sort of) high-functioning alcoholic, who uses the fact that no one takes him very seriously in order to work for rebellion.  But the rebellion has been dormant until Katniss volunteers for the Hunger Games. The plan is to use the Hunger Games against the Capitol: because they are the only way to communicate with all districts all at once.  Katniss, the rebels have decided, will make a perfect symbol. The mayor's daughter Madge hands Katniss a Mockingjay pin, seemingly as an innocent gift. But it was evidently chosen for the symbolism of the Mockingjay: the product of the Capitol's experimental jabber jays mating with mockingbirds in the wild. The jabber jays played a big party in the previous time that the Districts of Panem rebelled, giving information on the rebels to the Capitol. Mockingjays are an accident that the Capitol never meant to have happen: the result of nature taking it's course in a world that abhors all things natural. It is a good symbol for Katniss, because this is what she represents too: nature intruding upon a world that abhors nature.

So, what's the problem here? Well, the problem is that the rebels didn't tell Katniss they were recruiting her for the rebellion. They also didn't tell her that they were going to use her as a prop. They made her into the Mockingjay, little more than a symbol of rebellion against the Capitol. This is of course something that happens to many real-life revolutionaries. It happened to Lenin in Russia, his body is still preserved like some sort of scientific specimen with a bizarre regimen of chemicals: for use by the state as a prop in it's ceremonies. Even though Russia has become something which Lenin would have despised. It happened to Ché Guevara too. His, admittedly attractive, visage was incongruously taken up as a symbol of resistance to the US government. Oddly enough, mostly by anarchists: which is weird since Ché's job as Fidel Castro's right hand man was as executioner. Also, he hated anarchists. He was pretty much the definition of Lawful Neutral. In Anthropology, this phenomenon is called "positive objectification".  The name sounds nice: but it's not really. "Positive" in this case just means that the objectified person is treated as precious and important. Think of the way a museum would treat a painting. Sure, Katniss gets to break the rules and people take care to be nice to her. She is cared for, looked after etc: but not out of any genuine concern for her welfare. Rather she is coddled because she is the Mockingjay, the precious symbol of the rebellion that can't be lost.

Katniss does not like this. Most people don't.  People can be taught to like it by society, but it is not something that people naturally like. It is not a proper way to treat human beings. This is the treatment that most women in the western world have been subjected to since the Victorian Era. It should be noted that this is only one type of misogyny and the Victorian Era in the western world was not the only time or place where it was prevalent. Other societies have other types of misogyny, and other time periods had other pernicious ideas about women. Positive objectification is why men were pressured to open doors, pull back chairs and the like for women in the past: as if the women were creatures too delicate to do such work. 1950s advertising also contains a lot of positive objectification. This is different from a man opening doors or pulling back chairs for his girlfriend out of genuine respect.  It's not about what he's doing, but about why he's doing it. Positive objectification can even take the form of false worship: think of the racist or anti-semitic clergyman. This person claims that they worship a divine being: but actually they are objectifying the divine. They are using the authority that comes from being a clergyman to advance their own secular agenda: an agenda with it's roots in personal or class-based problems rather than any scripture or church doctrine. The name of the divine being, as well as scriptures and church doctrines are objects: tools to be used for a purpose. A true believer doesn't advance an agenda that benefits them personally. In fact they may even work against the interests of their race, class or other identity group. They take a receptive stance: changing their behavior based on what they learn from the scripture rather than trying to make the scripture fit their beliefs. Of course, it isn't just religious people who do this: plenty of scientists have done it as well.

For example, Margaret Mead. In her book on the society of a particular pacific island, she concluded that it was a sexually liberal society where young boys and girls often had intimate relationships before marriage. Except...wait a minute: where are the bastard children? where are the rushed marriages? do they have some form of birth control unknown to the west? no, of course not. The girls flirted with the boys as a way of annoying their guardians: their fathers and brothers. Just like prep school girls at a dance, they act more daringly because they know that if the boys show too much interest their guardians will flip out. What did Mead do? she objectified the people she was writing about in order to advance an agenda she had held long before she went to these islands or even became an anthropologist. She wanted western society to loosen the hell up, so she wrote about a society that was looser even though no such society actually existed. The thing is: the society being detailed in an ethnography is supposed to be the Subject. That is, they are supposed to be treated with genuine respect. The ethnographer is supposed to be like a ghost-writer: it is the people being studied who should be making all the important decisions about the book, including what goes into it.

This brings me to why objectification is bad: it isn't just a question of respect or even of morality. People who objectify other people do so because they have some kind of agenda. Agendas do not have to be conscious: for example Barack Obama's water stunt in Flint, Michigan. Was he consciously intending to insult the people of this city? probably not. But he was probably annoyed about having to come there, and really wanted the bad press to stop at any cost. Even the cost of insulting people who were already being victimized by a racist state system, and doing nothing to put a stop to that system. Again, he likely didn't do this on purpose. This is not a case of objectification, at least so far as anyone knows. But it is an example of someone advancing an agenda despite not realizing he had one to advance.

Most misogynist individuals fall into this category as well: advancing an agenda that supports men at the expense of women without thinking that that's what they are doing. Most people who objectify women do not think that is what they are doing. Just as, in the Hunger Games, President Coin does not think of herself as objectifying Katniss and is confused by her anger. This is quite a clever move on the part of the author: President Coin is female, and so is Katniss. There's no question about what is going on, because gender is not a factor in the relationship. It's also not a romantic relationship: so there's no question about how wrong the treatment is. For some reason, people often excuse this behavior in the context of romance when they would otherwise condemn it. President Coin is not wrong, the rebellion does need a symbol: but a live Mockingjay taught a rebellious song would have done the job. There have been many revolutions that had no single leader, no person to rally around. But they all had something to rally around: and a song is a very common rallying point. A live mascot is more interesting than a static object, but it need not be a person. Think of how the World Wildlife Fund has rallied people behind the giant panda. 

If you are waiting for a singular leader of today's resistance to emerge, you will likely wait in vain. But that does not make the movement weak: in fact it makes it strong. If the South African apartheid government had killed Nelson Mandela: the movement he led would have fallen apart. Of course, if he killed himself it would have galvanized the movement: so, since they were unwilling to execute him, they had to keep him alive. A movement which has a singular figurehead like this, is fundamentally weak because the leader's fate will affect the movement. A decentralized movement on the other hand, is strong because the fate of a single member has no effect whatsoever on the whole. There are of course natural leaders and followers: but the deaths of these leaders will not have the consequence of stopping or weakening the movement. Movements need symbols, but it is in no way necessary to objectify a person in order to get one.