In this post-truth era, our traditional understandings of politics have repeatedly failed to anticipate or explain major shifts in the political landscape. In two of the larger examples of this trend, pundits and scholars alike recently failed to adequately interpret the mood of a large part of both the British and US publics. Indeed, many conventional political observers minimized or dismissed the likelihood of seismic shifts such as Brexit and the election of Donald Trump. Into this breach steps Stephen Benedict Dyson’s Imagining Politics: Interpretations in Political Science and Political Television, which serves as an attempt to account for these failures of political imagination.
Interpretation is at the core of Dyson’s contentions about the congruence between theories of political science and the fictional portrayal of politics on television. Both political scientists and TV producers, he argues, offer interpretations of politics, and both have spent decades interpreting politics as an insider’s game played mostly by power-seeking elites. Dyson notes that while the goal of political scientists is to explain and the goal of TV producers is to entertain, both have promulgated an image of politicians as rational, self-interested actors; he then asks that we evaluate both political science and political TV by asking how useful that image is to our understanding of (and connection to) the political world.
Dyson intends for Imagining Politics to be read as an argument about interpreting contemporary politics, demonstrating how what we see on television and what we read in political science both contribute to our image of politics. But he also intends it to be read as a serious method of examining social science theory, noting that “political fictions and political science speak of and speak to the historical and cultural moment that produces them. They reflect and shape the beliefs and anxieties of their time and place” (p. 4), ultimately telling stories about our political processes and leaders.
Likening the scientific-rational understanding that underlies most US political science to the drama-driven approach demanded by the entertainment industry may raise eyebrows in mainstream political science. Dyson’s point is not that the scientific method is irrelevant or that scientific-rational assumptions are off-base; he embraces behavioralist research throughout the book. Instead, his point is one that feminists and other critical scholars have made for decades: “the scientific-rational approach of US political science is an interpretation rather than a scientific truth” (p. 4). It is interpretation because we political scientists, like all scientists, base our research not just on facts and observations, but also on assumptions and intuitive, logical, and even creative leaps. From these facts, observations, assumptions, and leaps, we craft models of politics, a process Dyson regards as homologous to the creation of fictionalized political storylines and characters that are portrayed on TV: the functions of political science and political TV—explanation versus entertainment—are different, yet the creative process of developing the models is similar.
Dyson illustrates his argument by pairing political science works and real-world politicians/events with corresponding fictional portrayals of politics and politicians. The first half of the book tackles US politics; for example, matching Arthur Schlesinger’s ambition theory with Robert Caro’s depiction of LBJ and with Kevin Spacey’s portrayal of Frank Underwood in Netflix’s House of Cards. In the second half, Dyson moves into comparative politics, using the 1980s British television satire, Yes Minister, to illustrate theories of public choice. His analyses, weaving together themes from both political science and television, interrogate many of the formative narratives in the discipline and do so in a highly imaginative and convincing way. By taking seriously what television can tell us about politics, Dyson gives us considerable insight into how the public may have arrived at some of its conclusions about politics. His is a particularly useful approach at a time when politics often seems surreal.
That said, Imagining Politics leaves us with two lingering questions about the generalizability and scope of its assertions. First, Dyson contends that both television and political science affect how we imagine politics: he notes that television and political theories have built a “web of meaning” (p. 3), implying that both affect our shared understanding of the political world. However, political theories are rarely read outside the political science subfields to which they belong, and on the television front, most of the shows Dyson discusses had (or have) relatively small viewing audiences. For example, The West Wing was not a blockbuster in the United States, and although Yes Minister was a big hit in the United Kingdom, watchers of British television represent a comparatively small viewing audience. Moreover, gone are the days when people had only a handful of TV channels (as in the 1980s, the heyday of Yes Minister): today the public’s viewing options have never been more varied. When we consider that some of the featured shows Dyson discusses were available only via streaming services (House of Cards) or on premium cable channels (Veep), the picture that emerges is one of an increasingly fragmented viewing audience. Our point is not that we think Dyson is wrong; it is that, as viewing audiences become more fragmented, the space for common understandings created by TV continues to shrink. How, then, does his argument shift as the viewing landscape changes?
Second, and relatedly, in Dyson’s interpretation both political science and television “imagine politics to be about self-interested elites pursuing and using power” (p. 2). This is relatively accurate in the cases he presents, but is it accurate more generally? Does academically minded Elizabeth McCord from Madame Secretary fit the utility-maximizer mold? What about do-gooder Leslie Knope from Parks & Rec? Unfortunately, Dyson has not situated his cases in a larger fictional context: there is no analysis of a universe of politically themed shows to tell us the percentage of shows (or characters) that fit the self-interested/power-hungry/elite descriptor. Such analyses would help overcome our “fragmented viewing audience” critique. If it were the case that viewers get the same message from most of TV’s political fiction, Dyson could demonstrate that the programs he highlights are representative of the field. In that case, viewers need not watch the shows he highlights to get the idea that politicians are all self-interested rational actors: instead they can watch almost any show in the genre and receive the same shared image. But since he does not take the step of constructing the universe of available politically themed TV shows, we cannot be sure how representative his sample is.
None of the foregoing detracts from the contributions Imagining Politics makes or the considerable value it will bring to political science classrooms. Indeed, it provides an exciting approach to demonstrating political concepts. Television’s dramatic imperative demands bold action; storylines are often vivid depictions of concepts that can be difficult to illustrate in the classroom. We can discuss utility maximization taken to extremes when Frank Underwood’s pursuit of power leads to a convoluted scheme that requires the murder of a US congressman. When we attempt to explain coalition government, Borgen shows students the maneuvering inherent in government formation while also demonstrating some of the challenges of anticipating coalition outcomes. When students are struggling with theories of presidential power, West Wing and House of Cards can be used to contrast competing views of the presidency. And, as Dyson aptly points out, we can also use these television shows to highlight gaps in political scientists’ explanations of political behavior. One example comes from chapter 3, in which Dyson uses Frank Underwood (and LBJ) to point out missing pieces in Schlesinger’s ambition theory, such as the role of class (Underwood grew up in poverty) or psychology (how does the driving force behind his ambitions shape the lengths to which he is willing to go?).
Whether professors use individual chapters in introductory courses or the whole book in a politics and pop culture course, students will find engaging writing and well-defined concepts. The two central premises of Imagining Politics—fiction can and should be taken seriously, and political science is more than a scientific method of hypothesis testing—are critical foundations of belief that we share with Dyson. In a world in which television personalities have become the leaders of the United States, Ukraine, Slovenia, and Guatemala; an entertainer is at the forefront of Italy’s influential Five Star Movement; and actors have governed in multiple subnational arenas, political scientists need new methods of interrogating our understandings of politics—and Dyson gives us an innovative method. Ultimately, Imagining Politics provides a compelling analysis of a political era in which truth is at least as strange as fiction, where satirists struggle to come up with headlines that are more extreme than reality, and where facts are optional for many politicians and their followers.
