The Death of God and The Child-Gaze
An Interpretation of Game of Thrones and Why the Ending Sucked
Zeitgeist of Disasters
I believe I can give an interpretation of Game of Thrones, not just as a story—but as a story about a story. Not just the content of Game of Thrones—its plot and characters —but also as a story about a book (and series) which captivated so many and then disappointed them, failed, so dramatically, in such a horrific manner. As for the show’s deeply unpopular ending and last few seasons, rather than simply blaming bad screen writing or George RR Martin’s slow pace at writing endings, I think this story-telling disaster was all just a symptom of the themes that the show itself was trying to depict; issues of sovereignty, justified authority, peace and war and so on. Ultimately, it brought up the question of what happens when there is a power vacuum and all the contesting parties exhaust themselves through constant battle. How is this exhaustion understood, narratively and historically?
The most popular television show in the history of television was explicitly a fantasy depiction of what we could refer to as real human history. It would seem the ‘End of History’ is just one non-stop series of states of emergencies, disasters of all kinds; just fitted alongside a culture of increasingly politically vague way of life, most accurately referred to as techno-consumerism. The last man is also a crisis-actor. And let’s face it. He has been paid rather well for his performances.
Just like GOT, our time is not only thematically structured by series of disasters :Dragons burning down cities, White Walkers trying to wipe out humanity; (things which are almost obscenely obvious metaphors for nuclear weapons and climate change). The very conception of humans reaching a historical end-point as disaster-adaptive techno-consumers, is at the very least a huge disappointment, and at the most, the widespread loss of any authentic conception of freedom, God, or sovereignty. The last chapter of man’s evolution as the last man is itself the greatest catastrophe of all.
So what did GOT do that was so captivating from a world-building perspective? Game of Thrones was ultimately a political drama which tried to depict modern people inside a medieval and fantasy universe. Modern people in the sense that cynical, vulgar, calculated, Machiavellian personalities and political conflicts, were depicted alongside magic, apocalyptic battles against monsters, mysteries of lost history, prophecies, and all other manner of fantasy genre motifs. GOT integrated two universes (past and present), or middle ages and modernity—and also real world and the world of myth and magic. Or, perhaps we could say that GOT integrated rational interests and conflicts of bourgeois adults with the fantasy and romanticism of a child. It pioneered a brand of literary collapsing of spaces which were previously distinct through history, fact and age.
Perhaps our identification with the characters who were often vulgar and cynical (and perhaps we would say ‘realistic’) – for example Bronn joking about soldiers shitting themselves when they die—is hardly in keeping with the romantic image of a chivalrous medieval knight. This ‘realism’ was good writing. It was genuinely witty and it played on modern people’s love of deconstruction (deconstructing the allure of medieval chivalry). Such depictions meant that we identified ourselves inside this fantasy universe, quite intimately. This identification of modern values and behaviour was both the strength and then the weakness of the show. Remember, George RR Martin is a massive fantasy genre student and reader, embracing the universe and mythology of somebody like Tolkien. But as opposed to Tolkien’s traditionalism and Catholicism, Martin expresses explicitly modern views like humanism or post-modernism throughout his writings.
Martin was openly an anti-war advocate (Vietnam war in particular he has spoken about)—and to this I give him credit—but is there not a contradiction between an anti-war activist author and the success of a show which appeals to moderns longing for depictions of courage and heroism, not to mention political intrigue? What has this effort to insert so called ‘realism’ into his depiction of violence, using shock factor and gore to ‘inform’ the viewer of the ‘reality’ of war, really amount to in the end? Well, it may highlight the problem of indulging in a reality which those who’ve likely never even seen a sports competition, let alone an actual war, have oddly claimed moral authority over. We could say that Tolkien’s romanticism came about through his literal experience in one of the most obscenely brutal wars in history (WW1), while Martin’s ‘realism’ came about through academia and media. Is it not ironic who then claims the grounds of ‘realism’?
This fusion of worlds and epochs was the weakness which caused the bad ending but also likely why it was at first so captivating. Regarding endings, the problem with endings, is of course reflective of our very real problem we are experiencing, historically. Disappointing endings are also the question of modernity (and so for modern people) and the so called end of history.
Let me explain this connection in more detail.
First of all, we should realize that the mass appeal of GOT was not simply just cheap stimulation and entertainment. Of course, the dragons and sex and CGI battles do express elements of cheap entertainment but nonetheless, people—for a large part of a decade—would discuss characters, plot lines, interpretations of events, predictions of plot lines ect., as if we were discussing biblical stories or mythology. It provided some sort of narrative which allowed us to authentically contemplate our own world. Not just our private worlds but our contemporary political and ideological worlds. We were all as enthralled in this world as any traditional society was of their myths and bible stories.
Why a show about feuding lords and dragons resonated so strongly with modern people, and not just a small sect of nerds who spend their time playing world of warcraft, could be explained by the fact that it depicted something of a political theology of the modern world, itself. Political theology is a term made famous by Carl Schmitt—and it roughly means the understanding of political notions of freedom and sovereignty as being embedded in—not just rational minds of humans making decisions, competing and cooperating with each other for power and resources—but also how politics corresponds to theological questions concerning belief and meaning. Political theology is itself the fusion of two worlds which the enlightenment wanted to separate. And so, it is the perfect theme for a show that attempted to fuse cynicism with mysticism, modern ironic detachment with medieval tales of heroism prophecy. Traditional folk tales with post-modern moral relativism.
In what sense does the political theology of Game of Thrones have anything to do with Nietzsche and death of God(the greatest political catastrophe in theology there ever was)? How can I argue this 21st century series has anything to do with the declarations of an old German philosopher? Nietzsche himself may well explain how cynicism and romanticism can converge. Running on the theme of schisms and fusions, it was Nietzsche whose announcement of the death of God marked a fusion of Christian-inspired humanistic dogmatism (which he hated) with secular and scientific rationalism. The death of God was a hangover of Christian morality but not an authentic assertion of it. This was a morality which no longer needed communion or divine representation of a God, to function. And what is a better communion or representation of divine tensions and affects than a King or beloved Father?
If we see the death of God as also the death of the Father (or the King), then it makes sense. Death of God is quite literally a spiritual death (rather than a physical absence)……We are not talking about an absent father figure as much as the loss of authentic, legitimate and meaningful leadership roles.
The reason Game of Thrones resonated with so many people is because it showed this death, not as an absence in the sense of the loss of this transcendental force we call God, but rather the death is immanent. In other words, it’s not the death of an eternal afterlife or some unknowable higher force but rather this death is something we live inside of. Not so much as a single moment but an ongoing void. The argument I am making is that this void is played out narratively in GOT. The show is called Game of thrones. A GAME. A meaningless game (triviality). The title GAME of Thrones suggests some sense of legitimacy and justice is gone, and what you have left over is Machiavellian scheming and entitlement to power.
Child Tyrants of the Void
A throne, of course, is not a meaningless object. It is where legitimacy and rightful authority are placed; or embodied. The symbolic power of this throne is not so much present when somebody is sitting in it—but rather when it is empty. The image for the entire series was an empty throne. The symbolic power of this emptiness is reflected through the stories of its main characters.
Game of Thrones in the book, is told through the perspective of characters. ( Chapter1 Ayra Chapter 2 John Chapter 3 Tyrion) ect. This perspective driven literary style is usually from the point of view of a child of somebody powerful or respectable, who witnesses their (usually violent ) demise. Danarys’ Father killed by Jamie (king slayer..the greatest warrior in Westeros literally set into motion this void..this empty throne…) John Snow the Bastard. His real Father unknown to him, also dead killed in battle)… The starks have their father killed by Joffrey.. and so on.
The particularly noteworthy scene here is when Ned Stark, who is the closest embodiment of honour and divine qualities and virtues, is killed by a child’s tantrum. Remember, it was written so that Ned stark was supposed to just be publicly shamed and sent to the wall; made politically irrelevant. And Joffrey, in a fit of rage (not really grasping the consequences of his actions) has him executed, setting in motion a war. The perspective here is from Arya, who witnesses the ideal father figure being beheaded, mutilated. In fact, in order to avoid the sight of a her Father’s execution. She looks towards the sky; to God.
This perspective is child-like and innocent, it sees the Father as being strong, honourable and perhaps even in some sense immortal. Suddenly this father figure is killed, shown to be mortal, powerless. This traumatic encounter basically just runs through the entire show. On one hand a confusion and bitterness over their paternal authority which was taken away, and on the other, a child like lack of understanding concerning the real implications of their actions (Joffrey, killing Ned, not understanding the political implication this act would have.) This accumulates with Danaerays just burning down an entire city. This child like rage is always taking over. This childish rage is opposed to mature indignation of honourable men like the war between Robert and the Tygareans. The rage of these childish characters is rather a fit psychotic detachment from what they are actually doing. Just like Joffrey, Danaerys doesn’t really seem realize what she’s done. It’s delusional more so than uncontrolled anger. A marker of child like mentality. It’s not tragic or an expression of bittersweet nobility; it is in a sense, meaningless aggression. An aggression which is also viewed, not from the perspective of a disapproving adult. Rather, like Arya, from a helpless child.
The Fatherless children of Westeros (the main characters; the perspectival centre) basically spend the entire story navigating this void. And why is this story about modernity and not the middle ages or antiquity? Well, because this void (empty throne), fatherless world, is the exact story of modernity itself. These are all the political implications of the death of God of which modernity opened up. Modernity is a grave yard of father figures. German philosopher Peter Sloterdijk has even cleverly observed that the two main competing civilizations which stemmed from modernity ( the American and Soviet one) are both civilizations that—as he puts it in his usual provocative manner—were founded by bastards. Soviets, Proles ( which means without house/name). On the other hand, America, were the second and third sons of European families, the rejects, who sought better opportunities on a different continent. America is, with its reckless technophilic militancy best exampled and seen in Hiroshima, an expression of this child like lack of understanding of the consequences or meaning of their actions. Not American people, of course, but the historical role of American military power in the 20th and 21st century, we should say, was a giant experimentation in disasters (to use Paul Virilio’s terms). Anyway, modernity is—almost empirically—the graveyard of fathers, viewed from both the rage and helplessness of a universal community of children.
Where to Go?
Although, my reading of Nietzsche, is perhaps not as pessimistic as others. The death of God, for Nietzsche is a polarizing moment. When God dies, we end up with two figures. The last man who lacks any purpose or meaning or direction. And, of course the Ubermensch; a super human who is no longer held back by the fears and pieties of that morality which through God, was made dogmatic.
Of course, through this fatherless world of warring children we see the becoming of the beloved heroes, warriors and leaders. We see this in figures like John Snow or Jamie Lannister, or Ayra , who overcome this loss and really grow as characters (although not always the best written by the obviously lazy screen writers in the later seasons) still became something authentic through this struggle or void. History was made through it, we could say. This wouldn’t have happened had their lives been the typically comfortable nobility depicted as the smooth and prosperous lives of the children of royalty. It would have been rather boring to watch these characters lull about for eight seasons sitting around in luxurious castles and bossing around their servants.
The story is so riveting because (just like in modernity) instead of peaceful and widely acceptable transitions in power from one generation to another, the very meaning of that transition becomes contestable—and so wars break out. Danerys claims her father was usurped therefore the Baratheon’s are not legitimate (making Joffrey not legitimate). Stannis claims Joffrey is a bastard therefore he is the right heir. John, who is the rightful heir, doesn’t even know who he is.) The mutually agreeable meaning to who is in charge, is lost. The empty throne means the lack of unified acceptance of legitimacy. In modernity this transforms into universal bastardom when this lack of legitimacy is not either overcome or accepted, but constantly postponed.
Again, this is the exact story of modernity with its competing ideologies. The throne, this time being history. Which mode of modernity is the rightful one? Communism, Fascism or liberalism? These are not just competing ideologies but also products of the conditions where any meaning or sense of legitimacy has fallen away or somehow rotted.
So how does the show attempt to deal with this confusion; this fatherless void we have been speaking of? I would argue that the reason that the last few seasons were so bad was because ultimately the show didn’t deal with this void. Instead of a return of the King, or of a transition into a new political era where a new form of legitimacy is set up (democratic legitimacy, legitimacy through victory in battle and so on)
For example, the dragons. The dragons are symbolic of a technological hubris. (Nuclear weapons, for example). ….And ultimately, who loses in the Game of Thrones, is the throne, itself. In a sense everyone loses. Nobody sits on the throne because the dragon burns down the thrown. In other words, technological hubris destroys political legitimacy. Of course, Bran ends up on the Throne, but he doesn’t fight for it. And we know from Hegel that being a master in the more primordial sense requires willingness to fight and die. Bran ‘the broken’ cannot fight.
Think about the ending. Bran is only put on the throne by an oligarchical council of losers, none of which fought in the battle that basically saved humanity—and now the throne (which is transvalued into a wheelchair) is done away with because nobody really cares anymore about ruling. The new child King, Bran, just meditates in whatever weird psychic dimension he’s always messing around in. A psychic dimension which, by the way, isn’t some mystical connection to eternal truth. It’s a meaningless distraction. It is the void. When confronted with the Night King, (the threat to the entire realm) he just starts meditating. A total distraction.
Ultimately, the message of the story is that, the only way to get the feuding lords of Westeros to accept a peace or an end to this void which unleashes conflict, is to cover it up. Put a schizophrenic cripple as the face of power while the Machiavellian dwarf technocratically manages the kingdom for his oligarchic friends, who waste all their time embezzling money through a network of brothels.
The power structure ends as a technocratically inclined brand of ‘post war’ liberalism. We’d rather everyone lose than somebody win (the ultimate message of nuclear weapons). Ironically—and I think this is why the show ultimately failed—this liberal attitude based on ressentiment, in which we would rather kill the embodiment or symbolic power of God, rather than be put at risk or discomfort by the kinds of conflicts and passions which this symbol (the throne) stirs up. Ultimately, this means the show itself was engaging in the very nihilism which kills God, and of course also killed its ratings. But who cares? The show made its money. Endings aren’t profitable, anyway. It doesn’t matter how it ends, so long as we keep watching.