Almost two years ago, but I can still remember those moments with terrible clarity. The first was the then presidential candidate John McCain referring to the financial situation of the United States by stating that “the fundamentals of our economy are solid”. I raised an eyebrow, and not for the reason you’d think. It wasn’t so much what he said that surprised me (I came to expect statements like that from him at the time) but the very specific phrases he used.
A couple of weeks later, in an economic debate, he did it again. At one point on the issue of fiscal rectitude he said he would veto any unbalanced budget Congress proposes, before pulling out the pen he said he would use to do so. This time, I actually gasped in disbelief. John McCain had brazenly stolen fragments of the west wing twice in a matter of weeks.
While it showed that someone on his staff watched the show, it also showed that they didn’t watch it as closely. The first line was a direct quote from Jed Bartlet from the first series, after which he was reprimanded by a staff member for answering the question “like an economics professor with a big stick up his butt”. The second, even more brazen bit, was from the series finale debate on Bartlet’s successor, where Republican candidate Arnie Vinick showed us all of his veto pen. Vinick lost the election. Go figure.
In a way, though, I find it hard to blame him: if I were to hold an election, I’d like it to be like Tea west wing also. The program might have ended four years ago, but its effect is still significant. Barack Obama was every inch a West Winger candidate in 2008, a Bartlet/Santos hybrid who would deliver us from the jaw-dropping calamity that was the Bush administration. Even now, halfway through his first term, I don’t judge Obama by comparison to Clinton, Carter or Kennedy, but to Bartlet. At a time when real-life politics feels both tear-inducing and chilling, the west wing it is the platonic ideal plane to which we can aspire.
It’s not just the feel and tone of the show itself that is relentlessly stylized, but its characters are as driven and honorable as they are well drawn. With most political comedies and dramas, the focus is on the incompetence or blatant amorality of the characters involved, not so in Bartlet’s White House. Among the first scenes we see throughout the series are those of speechwriter Sam Seaborn having a late work drink with a reporter and leaving a bedmate at 5am to go to the office. The first episode largely revolves around Sam obsessing over gentlemanly impropriety. The working hours of the senior staff are amazing, their devotion to the cause is absolute. But the genius of the show is in showing that while his work ethic is superhuman, the effects of that devotion aren’t always happily ever after.
One of the toughest moments in the series is when chief of staff Leo McGarry tells his (soon-ex) wife with remarkable definition that her job was more important than her marriage at the moment. All of his colleagues have seen their personal lives similarly plundered. But in a building that was described by one character as “not very conducive to relationships,” the separate and collective bonds between the characters, as well as their own individual ability to handle their workloads with such wit and grace, and the lack of dream, they are truly special.
The first of these is the relationship between the president and Leo: close advice and best friends. Although Leo only addresses the President by his first name twice in 155 episodes, his friendship is evident and essential to the smooth running of the administration. Jed Bartlet may be in many ways the ideal president, but without Leo’s help he never would have gotten there. And for all the weariness of Leo’s testy world, he invariably gets the most inspiring lines. His boastful and abrasive deputy Josh Lyman knows better than anyone: Leo’s handling of Josh’s PTSD could bring tears to a fossil. Beyond Jed and Leo’s fatherly instincts toward the rest of their senior staff, there’s the brotherly love and rivalry between them: the often strained relationship between Josh and the mercurial Director of Communications Toby Ziegler, every inch an older brother, is balanced by the degree to which Josh and Toby’s assistant Sam are on the same page. The three treat the press secretary, CJ Cregg, with flirty wonder. That’s right. Given the current prevalence at the time of Twilight series, where Kristen Stewart’s sole purpose seems to be seen, not heard, and colored almost entirely by the man-beast she chooses, it’s gratifying to see a female character with such depth and strength.
The main cast is one thing, but the quality of the supporting characters is wonderful: the deeply conservative but utterly serious Ainsley Hayes, the wise soldier Admiral Fitzwallace, the irrepressible Lord John Marbury, the wonderful Amy Gardner, and many others. what’s more. It’s such a capable satellite cast that makes the world they inhabit so believable.
Like the development of the program over time. Some characters move on, others take on more stature than originally planned (the indispensable Donna Moss, like so many classic TV characters, was originally only meant to be a small part), issues change as do the relationship dynamics, but never in the expenses of the show. There’s a lot of talk about the difference in writing between series 4 and 5, the time when series creator Aaron Sorkin left the show, and while it was a huge loss as far as I’m concerned, the difference was negligible. . The whole point of the program is that every White House employee is working for an ideal greater than themselves, and no matter how talented they are, they are not irreplaceable, and the program will continue. That goes for Sorkin as well as anyone.
In fact, as a general theme the west wing He deals very well with adversity and contention. Whereas in real-life American politics, where antipathy between political opponents is at a boiling point, the Bartlet White House is often frustrated with congressional Republicans, but also very generous. When the Senate Majority Leader has a disastrous interview with a local TV station, the President urges CJ to take it easy; he is a conscientious man. He treats a renegade general who attempts to publicly criticize him with similar grace. When Ainsley Hayes comes to work at the White House (hired out of no less a sense of duty), the initially weary staff come out of her defense when they mistreat her because of her party preference. Even her initial dilemma of serving an administration whose policies she couldn’t stand was handled with marvelous magnanimity, as is often the case with her, Leo. “The president is asking you to serve. And everything else is bullshit.”
That is ultimately the point of the west wing. It shows an image of life that, although stylized, is close enough to reality to think or hope that it is possible. It shows that great things are possible when people use the courage of their convictions and the capacity of their minds. It is both current and timeless. It is aspirational and inspirational art at its finest. And serve as you like.