The Tragic, Liberal Delusion of Netflix’s ‘The Diplomat’
Image; Netflix
I remember first coming to Washington, DC, and hearing the way a lot of energetic interns and staff talked about the system. “Sure, it is flawed and annoying sometimes,” a colleague told me shortly after the 2016 election, us sipping coffees during a ‘quick chat’ in one of DC’s many gentrifying cafes, “But give it enough time, and it makes the right decisions.”
It was this conversation I thought of upon seeing the political thriller The Diplomat (2023 — present), a tightly crafted show about a career diplomat for the State Department named Kate Wyler (Keri Russell), who is suddenly transferred to the prestigious London office. We learn that this move is a test trial to see if she can handle the role of vice president, and along the way, Kate Wyler stumbles into a conspiracy that could drag the UK, and maybe even the US, into a regional war.
There were many good moments in this show. It was well-acted, the dialogue was witty and poignant, and the set design made me feel like I was there in this fast-paced environment. You can tell a lot of money was spent on this show, and it doesn’t appear to have been wasted (it’s been greenlit for a third season).
Yet, underpinning this show is the idea that the US empire should and must be preserved for the betterment of humanity, and I think that idea is worth dissecting.
It’s all about American Institutions (hegemony)
It’s worth noting that Kate Wyler is an institutionalist. There is a moment when the White House tries to pressure Wyler to take advantage of an Iranian diplomatic asset, and she urges caution instead. She delivers a moving speech on why the relationships maintained by the State Department are so important, saying:
“What were really doing when we negotiate with them, or with anyone, is looking for the one or two friends we can call when the world is fucked. It's a flimsy web of relationships. But sometimes, it holds. Do not tear it. Do not be an infinitely ravenous American.”
If there is a thesis of this show, it’s this monologue. The people who care about Global institutions, particularly ones that benefit the US — the adults in the room who you can call when the world is fucked — are the ones who need to be protected and in charge.
It’s perfectly fine for a character to hold that perspective — a character’s motivations are not interchangeable with a work of art’s motivations — but we never really get a competing narrative to make us think this isn’t the show’s perspective as well. There are so many moments where Kate and her confidants don’t report things to the public for fear that it would undermine US interests, and it’s framed as a commonsense position that doesn’t need a rebuttal.
For example, the main plotline of the first two seasons is that a British Warship called the HMS Courageous has been attacked by an unknown actor, killing 41 British service members. Kate Wyler is partly brought in because of her experience as a crisis diplomat, which gives her insight into untangling such flashpoints.
It’s learned, through a very entertaining cat and mouse game (spoilers, by the way), that this attack was a false flag operation by British operatives who wanted to give the Prime Minister, Nicol Trowbridge (Rory Kinnear), an upswell of support he could use to prevent Scottland from seceding from the United Kingdom. A Scottish cession movement was picking up steam, and conservatives, led by British advisor Margaret Roylin (Celia Imrie), thought the rise in nationalism would “preserve the kingdom.” As US Vice President Grace Penn (Allison Janney) opines about Scotland’s possible secession (logic our POV character Kate also agrees with):
“If the UK eats itself alive, second wave impact, it’s a huge blow to NATO and Five Eyes. Third wave, Northern Ireland, Catalonia. Democracies carving themselves into splinters, while autocracy’s having its best year since ‘37.”
This perspective comes to a head with the twist that the person who really orchestrated the attack was, in fact, Vice President Grace Penn, who worried that a Scottish secession movement would threaten the only European port where US nuclear submarines are allowed to dock. The US, according to the Vice President, would lose the ability to track Russian submarines in the Atlantic, putting American Empire at risk from this larger geopolitical threat.
Kate does not refute the VP’s logic, later admitting that she might have done the exact same thing if she were in the VP’s shoes.
And so, just to recap, we have a democratic secession movement in Scotland — i.e., people trying to exercise their democratic right to self-determination — that is killed by conservative factions in two imperial governments who want to prevent the collapse of both of their empires.
And we are supposed to be okay with that; the framing of the text makes us want to empathize with the logic of these battle-weary veterans who are making difficult decisions to preserve American institutions. Decisions that, even if abhorrent, we are told repeatedly are ultimately justified. As Kate’s husband explains:
“If we make a thing out of [the US killing Scottish Independence], bad for Democracy…Hungry, Poland, Turkey…Democracy is actually going out of style. [It can’t come out].”
If US Empire collapses, the narratives suggest again and again, so too does the concept of Democracy itself.
A diplomatic conclusion
Upon finishing the second season, I couldn’t stop thinking about my conversation with my friend years ago about how she thought preserving American institutions was good in and of itself, regardless of what those institutions do.
It’s how I used to think, too, almost a decade ago, but recently, I have come to see it as a worldview that can ultimately justify anything. If America needs to be maintained, if the United Kingdom must stand for fear that the vacuum will be even worse, then there are no horrors you can not justify: bomb your own ships, finance a country’s genocide, assassinate a left-leaning government that wants to nationalize its oil fields— anything to keep the wheels of empire turning.
In many ways, I felt like I was watching a modern-day update of The West Wing (1999–2006), which isn’t a compliment. For all the beautiful acting and cinematography, I was disappointed that we did not get more pushback on the show’s primary thesis. An uncritical viewer will probably walk away with the idea that the atrocities done by these characters are, from a birdseye view, justified — and that doesn’t bode well for most of us standing in the line of fire.