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Downton Abbey and House of Cards: Dramas That Live in the World of the 1%

I can't help bingeing on series like Downtown Abbey and House of Cards, yet hate the pernicious influence of their politics.
 
 
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In Manufacturing Consent, their now classic work on the role of the media in legitimising income inequality, Edward Herman and Noam Chomsky argue that the news media play a central role in propagating an ideology that renders invisible the true class relations of capitalism.

While I agree wholeheartedly with this, I have to add – having recently binged on both Downton Abbey and House of Cards – that drama shows are probably just as powerful (and more insidious) in manufacturing our consent to a society in which the  world's 85 richest people own as much as the poorest 50% of humanity.

In the US we are being fed a bizarre media mix of a kindly (if somewhat intellectually challenged) elite – in the form of the wealthy early-20th century Crawley family who run Downton Abbey alongside a Machiavellian vice-president  Frances Underwood, who operates within a modern-day government that is owned and controlled by capitalists who are anything but kind. Taken together, these two shows create a politics of despair because, in their different ways, they portray a world devoid of any hope for social and economic change.

Who needs unions at Downton when you have a benevolent elite taking such good care of their workers? American viewers are into the fourth week of the fourth series, and I really don't think I can stand it much longer. In record numbers, we tune in to watch the soap-opera lives of the idle rich and the overworked poor, no doubt identifying with the former rather than the latter. If truth be told, the three hot meals a day that the servants get – not to mention the delectable snacks provided by the cook, Mrs Patmore – must look very good to the millions of Americans who live below the poverty line.

The politics of the show are excruciating for anyone with a progressive bent. Each week the most pressing issue is whether the daughters of the family will find a suitable husband, or if the stately home will survive, given that it is being run by Lord Grantham, the moronic patriarch of the family who squandered his wife's fortune. Forget what was actually happening to real people in England at that time, what with mass poverty, the privations of war and rampant disease. What really matters is that a good maid is so hard to come by that the "ladies" of the house are forced to dress themselves for dinner.

But for all their faults, it is not the rich who make me squirm the most each Sunday night. Rather, it is the fawning servants who seem to spend their days endlessly worrying about the wellbeing of the very people who are working them into an early grave. I don't know whether the elite class really believes that the poor are delighted to take care of them, or whether they invented this ideology to assuage their collective conscience. Either way, the image of the grovelling Carson, the butler, who longs for the days when the rich didn't have to deal with uppity workers, makes me crazy. Please, someone, give this man a copy of the  Communist Manifesto so he can get a dose of some much-needed class consciousness!

As much as I can't stand Carson, it is Tom, the former chauffeur who married one of the Grantham daughters (only to watch her die in childbirth), who is the object of my wrath in season four. We have had to bear witness to this once proud socialist being turned by the Crawley clan into a self-hating, simpering shill of the rich to the point where he tells a potential love interest who shows some disdain for the wealthy that he does "not believe in types but in people". Gone are his class politics, only to be replaced by neoliberal drivel that sounds amazingly like Margaret Thatcher, when she famously said: " There is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women, and there are families."

 
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