Game of Thrones, the exceedingly popular TV series, has finally come to an end. This in and of itself is a remarkable achievement: the book series which the show is based upon was supposed to be “unfilmable.” Instead, the “unfilmable” show became one of the most successful cultural phenomena of the modern age—a veritable monoculture that captivated millions of viewers around the world with its tales of courtly intrigue, its gritty and realistic depiction of medieval warfare, and its message that the moral arc of the universe bends towards karmic justice.

That last bit deserves further reflection. George R.R. Martin’s (GRRM) A Song of Ice and Fire book series, upon which Game of Thrones is based upon, is essentially about man’s unending capacity for both good and evil. In a revealing 2012 interview with Canada’s CBC, GRRM discussed how he was a conscientious objector to the Vietnam War and how his beliefs about war and violence influence his books. In his words: “If you’re going to write about war and violence, show the cost. Show how ugly it is. Show both sides of it.”

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“No One”

GRRM’s characters exemplify this attitude towards war and violence. Take, for example, Arya Stark. In GRRM’s books, she is a child of no more than nine years when she accompanies her father down south to the capital city of the Seven Kingdoms, King’s Landing. Her cheerful days of learning swordsmanship are cut short when her mentor is killed, her father is executed in public for supposed treasonous acts against the crown, and her older sister Sansa is essentially kept as a hostage by the royal family. As if these events were not already traumatizing enough, the Seven Kingdoms shortly thereafter plunges into a destructive civil war that sees most of her remaining family killed off in particularly gruesome ways. Arya is left utterly alone and isolated in the middle of a war.

She resorts to desperate measures to survive. She constantly takes on new identities to remain hidden, to the point she starts to lose herself. This process culminates with her eventual admission into a guild of mystical assassins that are required to relinquish their former identities (in some cases, literally, with the removal of one’s own face), becoming “no one.” All this helps her dissociate herself from the cruel reality she lives in and to escape the horrors that she has had to endure. The only things truly sustaining her at this point are hatred and vengeance. She composes a list of individuals responsible for the deaths of her family members and dear friends. She aspires to personally murder all these individuals, repeating the list to herself every night as if it were a personal prayer.

Arya stands as the quintessential example of not only how war and conflict make victims of the innocent, but also how these victims themselves turn towards hatred and revenge, perpetuating the endless cycle of violence and misery that only results in more pain and a loss of humanity. How many real-world child soldiers in Africa and the Middle East have personal stories like Arya’s?  Should we, as human beings, not wish to prevent the innocent from suffering the fate of Arya Stark?

Fans of the television show, however, apparently see something entirely different. For them, Arya’s transformation into a revenge-driven, face-wearing assassin is the epitome of cool. What of her ruthless extermination of the entirety of House Frey, which was responsible for her brother and mother’s deaths? Viewers went wild and enjoyed every second of it. For them, the Arya slitting the throat of house patriarch Walder Frey, and her subsequent poisoning of every male Frey at a banquet, was well-deserved retribution delivered in a most eminently satisfying manner. What of Arya’s execution of Petyr Baelish, the conniving and duplicitous intriguer perhaps most responsible for the civil war that engulfed the realm? It received an outstanding ovation by viewers for this sublime delivery of well-deserved justice.

The list goes on. And while some (possibly, probably, most) of the characters Arya kills are irredeemably vile individuals, one cannot help but reflect on what is happening here: people are cheering on a character, a young girl, who has seemingly absorbed the lesson that murdering your problems and enemies away is the optimal solution to everything.

The Sins of the Father

Eddard “Ned” Stark, Arya’s father and Lord of Winterfell (essentially, ruler of the northernmost kingdom of the Seven Kingdoms), is another example of someone who is seen in a different light by television show audiences. In the early books and the first season of the show, his entire character can be summarized as standing by what is right and just—which ultimately results in his execution when the less-than-honorable House Lannister sets him up for treason. On a certain level, the audience is led to believe that this tragic outcome is self-inflicted: Ned’s quaint belief in honor whilst living in a nest of insidious vipers, even as it is made abundantly clear that no one is in this city is to be trusted, led to his downfall. Meanwhile, the Lannisters felt no compunction about lying and cheating if it means succeeding in the eponymous game of thrones. Good, it would seem, can take the backseat when it comes to matters of political survival and success.

Yet in later books and seasons of the television show, we see the price of these respective approaches. For House Lannister, this means facing enemies on all fronts—even when they’re in charge. Their reign is almost snuffed out in the very beginning, when the smallfolk (Game of Thrones parlance for the peasantry) start rioting over food shortages (created by the civil war the Lannisters started with their execution of Ned) and by the Lannister’s brutal and very public massacre of the previous king’s bastard children. The family’s grip on power is tenuous at best, requiring them to constantly seek new allies, who themselves tend to be as opportunistic and conniving as the Lannisters (if not more so). The simple reality for the Lannisters is that no one trusts them precisely because they have a long history duplicity and betrayal. Their capacity for it is well known to all.

By contrast, the Stark’s bannermen in the North flock to the family’s cause. When Ned is imprisoned by the Lannisters, his eldest son Robb rallies his kingdom to march down south and rescue his father, even if they stand to gain nothing from doing so, and potentially losing much. When the Lannisters execute Ned, Robb and his bannermen take such umbrage at this outrage that they declare outright secession. Robb is crowned “The King in the North” by his subjects. Such is the loyalty that the Stark family (including Ned) cultivated with their just and honorable rule over the centuries—it lasts beyond the reach of death itself. Even after Robb is killed by the treacherous bannermen of House Bolton, which usurps House Stark’s position, the other bannermen of the North eventually rally to the surviving Starks, who take back their kingdom at the Battle of the Bastards.

This message—that just and honorable rule inspires greater loyalty in those who are ruled, while scheming and betrayal alone results in diminishing returns—is muddled in the latter seasons of the television show. In the show (the books have not reached this point), Jon Snow (presumed bastard son of Ned Stark and acting on behalf of his legitimate sister, Sansa Stark) and his forces are on the verge of being annihilated at the Battle of the Bastards. They are saved at the last second by a fresh force of thousands of knights led by Sansa Stark and Petyr Baelish, who, through careful plotting and murder, managed to become the acting regent of a neighboring neutral kingdom nominally ruled by the Starks’ maternal cousin. In other words, the Stark cause is shown to be saved not by the virtues of their rule, but by resorting to trickery and intrigue as well. Even as late as the previous season, Ned’s children reflect on how their father’s foolishness resulted in his death, and that they (his children) had to be smarter than he was.

The message that the audience took away from all this? That Ned was in the wrong; a lack of guile can only result in death and defeat when it comes to the nitty-gritty world of politics.

The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

If there is one character that is the exemplar of GRRM’s conception of an individual’s capacity for both good and evil, it is Daenerys Targaryen. Hers is a tragic journey. The exiled daughter of a former monarch deposed for his madness and tyranny, she begins her rise to power in the books and television show at the age of fourteen, with her only assets being her name, her claim to the throne, and the fact that she is a pretty young girl. By the time the show reaches its climax, she has racked up numerous titles, laid waste to entire nations, and has an army personally loyal to her alone numbering in the tens of thousands—and, of course, city-ending dragons.

Yet while Daenerys’ ascent to power is an inspiring tale for many, there are dark hints of what was to come. Early on, Daenerys reaches a region known as Slaver’s Bay, named such because its various city-states serve as the central hubs for the global slave trade. Initially, she arrives with her small-ish band of followers to the first of these cities, Astapor, as a potential buyer. She eventually strikes a bargain with an exceedingly rude slaver to buy his entire army of exceedingly efficient eunuch slave soldiers, called the Unsullied, in exchange for one of her dragons. But moments after the exchange is complete and the loyalty of the Unsullied is secure, Daenerys turns the tables on the entirety of Astapor. In the television show, she orders the Unsullied to “Slay the masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who holds a whip, but harm no child. Strike the chains off of every slave you see!”

The sacking of Astapor is a thing to behold on television. The Unsullied kill the surprised and defenseless slave masters of Astapor, whose own guards are helpless to stop the slaughter (and are themselves quickly killed). One of Daenerys’ young dragons flies around, torching the city’s ramparts in a manner akin to a U.S. jet fighter on a bombing run in Vietnam. It is quite the cinematic moment, and you can scarcely blame the show’s audience for enjoying it. The Guardian’s reviewer of the show, Sarah Hughes, probably spoke for many (including myself, I must confess) when she wrote that Daenerys’ “speech to the Masters of Astapor literally had me cheering out loud. […] there was something undeniably thrilling about watching the young dragon queen lead her now freed army out of the ransacked city of Astapor as her dragons circled overhead.”

This event marked the beginning of Daenerys’ crusade to liberate the entirety of Slaver’s Bay. And, as one might guess, it also turned her into a cultural icon—both within the world Game of Thrones and outside of it. Within it, slaves and freedmen across Slaver’s Bay begin to call Daenerys “the Breaker of Chains,” referring to her dedication to freeing the enslaved peoples of the region. In our world, she began to be regarded as something of a role model, a feminist icon, and an exemplar (if rather ruthless) abolitionist. Mothers have taken to naming children after the character. Data provided by the Social Security Administration in 2018, for example, revealed that 560 baby girls in that year were named “Khaleesi,” in reference to one of Daenerys’ titles.

Perhaps those parents should have been a bit more cautious. After all, although Daenerys freed the slaves of Astapor, this does not change the fact that she sacked an entire city, killing thousands in the process (though they were guilty or complicit in the slave trade).

Yet there was more to come. Filled with a newfound sense of purpose, Daenerys then set upon Yunkai, the next slaver city-state, and swiftly liberated its slaves. She then marched on the final slaver city-state of Meereen, which, as a warning against her, crucified 163 slave children along the road. In response, Daenerys incites the city’s slaves to rebel and open the gates (in the books, she proceeds to sack Meereen as well). Then, in what probably should have been another sign of things to come, Daenerys decides to exact eye-for-eye vengeance upon Meereen’s slave masters by crucifying 163 of them along the city’s streets.

Television show audiences did not seem too upset at this though. After all, who could possibly dislike Daenerys’ instantly classic line of “I will answer injustice with justice,” particularly in our contemporary modern era, where calling for some form of “justice” or another is all the rage? And once again, how could you possibly feel sympathy for slaver scum?

At this point, Daenerys is making it quite clearly that impudent challenges to her well-meaning rule will be met with swift, ruthless punishment. Her thought process is on full display during her occupation of Meereen. In a conversation with her knight, Ser Jorah Mormont, concerning what should be done about the slave masters of Yunkai (who reinstitute slavery after her departure), Daenerys elaborates on what she believes is the proper course of action:

Jorah: Without you there to rule, Khaleesi, I fear the masters will simply bide their time, wait for the invaders to leave and reassert control.

Daenerys: That is why I've ordered Daario to execute every master in Yunkai. The masters tear babies from their mothers’ arms. They mutilate little boys by the thousands. They train little girls in the art of pleasuring old men. They treat men like beasts, as you said yourself.

Jorah: Herding the masters into pens and slaughtering them by the thousands is also treating men like beasts. The slaves you freed, brutality is all they've ever known. If you want them to know something else, you’ll have to show it to them.

Daenerys: And repay the slavers with what? Kindness? A fine? A stern warning?

Jorah: It’s tempting to see your enemies as evil, all of them, but there’s good and evil on both sides in every war ever fought.

Daenerys: Let the priests argue over good and evil! Slavery is real. I can end it. I will end it. And I will end those behind it.

Jorah: I sold men into slavery, Khaleesi.

Daenerys: And now you are helping me show them to freedom.

Jorah: I wouldn't be here to help you if Ned Stark had done to me what you want to do to the masters of Yunkai.

Jorah’s point is crucial: a world without compassion, mercy, and absolution to those who do wrong and commit evil has nary a chance to be a better one than the one we live in. By treating the slavers the same way that they treat their slaves, Daenerys perpetuates the kind of oppressive brutality she seeks to destroy. The only lesson that the former slaves of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen would learn is that power alone is the only thing that matters in this world—freedom is granted by the sword, and merely a desire for it does not. As for the masters of Slaver’s Bay, all they’ve ever known is their own traditional way of life. They can scarcely conceive of a different way of living, particularly one that outright demands the end of their existing privileges. If their only choices are submission, death, or fighting back, why would they not fight back?

In short, Jorah is suggesting to Daenerys that if her true goal is an ending to slavery, oppression, and tyranny, then she must conceive of an entirely new social system. One where either those above and below can govern together, or one where such distinctions do not exist. Merely trading one set of rulers for another will not suffice.

It is both a lesson and problem that Daenerys only partially absorbs. After contemplating Jorah’s words for a moment, she orders that a cooperating Meereenese nobleman and former slaver, Hizdahr zo Loraq, accompany her men to Yunkai, stating that: “He will tell the masters what has happened in Meereen. He will explain the choice they have before them. They can live in my new world or they can die in their old one.”

With this, Daenerys inadvertently revealed something crucial about herself: she does not have a solution to the dilemma Jorah raised. While she genuinely means well and aspires to build a better world for all, she hasn’t been able to conceive of a truly different form of society where that can work. She is pursuing a modified version of the status quo—one with herself at the helm. And like others who sit at the pinnacle of power, she demands loyalty, with death being the price of noncompliance. It is a form of coercion rather than true mercy, born out of a self-assurance that only she knows what is right and just. It is this pride, that most ancient enemy of mankind, that sets Daenerys on her path.

Subverting Expectations?

The climax and ending of Game of Thrones has been less than well received. Daenerys ends up putting King’s Landing to the sword, ruthlessly exterminating most of the city’s population. Men, women, and children are all incinerated as she rides her dragon across the city, whilst her armies fight down below, cutting down anyone who dares raise a hand against them. All those who defied her are crushed; the dead are rendered silent.

Viewers of the show, at first jubilant and triumphant, enjoying the sight of Daenerys destroying the city’s defenses and quickly pushing Cersei Lannister’s forces into unilaterally surrendering, were shocked and appalled when Daenerys proceeded to scorch the entire city, street by street. For almost an hour, they are forced to watch the highly-graphic and gruesomely detailed massacre and sacking of King’s Landing from multiple on-the-ground perspectives.

It was, to put it in socially polite and politically neutral terms, a “controversial” and “divisive” decision.

Fans are quite outraged, and they’re making their feelings known. Some of these criticisms are certainly valid. The show’s finale was certainly a mess. Developments that would normally take up an entire episode—such as the decision to transition the Six Kingdoms (the Starks got their independence after all) away from primogeniture and towards a Holy Roman Empire-style elective monarchy—were compressed into a mere fifteen minutes. Numerous plot lines were dropped entirely. Character development seasons in the making seemed to come undone for arbitrary reasons. All in all, it could have certainly been handled better. Four more episodes or so could have helped.

One charge that should be disputed, however, is that Daenerys’ sudden transformation into a mad queen came of out left field. Was it a rushed? Perhaps so. But was it really unexpected?

Absolutely not. It was seasons in the making, and was abundantly clear all the while. It says something about the show’s audience that this development went either partially unnoticed or, more worryingly, was conveniently ignored.

It’s not like it wasn’t noticeable When Hizdahr zo Loraq returns from Yunkai with Daenerys’ men, for example, he happily reports that masters of Yunkai have agreed to cede power to a council of elders composed of freedmen and former slave masters. All they ask in return is that they be allowed to reopen their city’s fighting pits. Though slaves used to fight other slaves to the death in these arenas, it would now be freedmen who would fight each other out of their own free will. The pit fighters themselves desire to see the pit reopened, explains Loraq, adding that these fights are an important part of the traditions of Yunkai and Meereen (the book series expands upon this, clarifying that these fights play a religious role in the region’s culture).

Daenerys is entirely obstinate to this rather reasonable request. She states that she “does not respect the tradition of human cockfighting.” Loraq probably should have caught on to this attitude moments earlier, for when he tells Daenerys that “politics is the art of compromise,” her immediate reply is deafening: “I am not a politician. I am a queen.”

That viewers of the show did not express concern at this behavior is indicative. Was this really the Daenerys people believed would free the Seven Kingdoms from tyranny and ill-rule? Someone who so casually disregards the wishes of the people she frees and show open contempt towards their cultural traditions? For the implication of Daenerys’ words were abundantly clear: she essentially stated that her word is law. She does not negotiate or compromise. What she says is good is good, and what she deems forbidden is forbidden.

In the show’s finale, Jon Snow confronts Daenerys for the massacre she carried out. That she has ordered the executions of all men who served the Lannister cause, even if they threw down their weapons in surrender to Daenerys’ army. She attempts to justify it, leading to an exchange that by now should seem all too expected:

Jon: You can forgive all of them, make them see they made a mistake. Make them understand. Please, Dany.

Daenerys: We can't hide behind small mercies. The world we need won't be built by men loyal to the world we have.

Jon: The world we need is a world of mercy. It has to be.

Daenerys: And it will be. It's not easy to see something that's never been before. A good world.

Jon: How do you know? How do you know it'll be good?

Daenerys: Because I know what is good. And so do you.

Jon: I don't.

Daenerys: You do. You do. You've always known.

Jon: What about everyone else? All the other people who think they know what's good.

Daenerys: They don't get to choose.

It is a powerful exchange, and it is with her own words that Daenerys seals her fate. The young girl who set out to liberate the world from slavery and oppression decided in the end, out of a misguided desire to bring peace and unity to the world, to strip people of the greatest, most invaluable freedom of all—their own God-given conscience. Viewers probably shouldn’t have been surprised though at this turn of events: the hints were there all along.

The Reflection in the Mirror

Why then, are some fans so surprised that this came to be? The answer lies in an exchange that Jon Snow had with Tyrion Lannister before seeking out Daenerys.

Tyrion: Would you have burned the city down?

Jon: I don't know.

Tyrion [SCOFFS] Yes, you do. You won't say because you don't want to betray her, but you know. […] When she murdered the slavers of Astapor, I'm sure no one but the slavers complained. After all, they were evil men. When she crucified hundreds of Meereenese nobles, who could argue? They were evil men. The Dothraki khals she burned alive? They would have done worse to her. Everywhere she goes, evil men die and we cheer her for it. And she grows more powerful and more sure that she is good and right. She believes her destiny is to build a better world for everyone. If you believed that, if you truly believed it, wouldn't you kill whoever stood between you and paradise?

Tyrion addresses Jon here, but he might as well have been addressing the show’s viewers directly. That, in a way, is the maddening brilliance of the show’s finale: it presents us, the viewers, with a mirror, and makes us to recognize that we too have partaken what has been going. We, as viewers, celebrated Daenerys’ brutal triumphs over her enemies, tweeting out things like “YAS SLAY QUEEN” in unabashed support. We cheered Arya on in her quest for vengeance, speculating who on her list would be next to be executed. We sat engrossed observing the intrigue in King’s Landing, keeping score on who would be next to die. This, of course, in addition to the rape, torture, decapitation, flaying, incest, crucifixion, and other such barbarities that was shown on air yet people kept watching entranced. Only in the end, by forcing the audience to take the perspective of an army massacring a city, does the show snap people to attention.

It is surely an indicator of how much our own societal sense of morality has degenerated that what was conceived as an outright condemnation of war, greed, tyranny, selfishness, and short-sightedness became a widely-applauded celebration of man’s worst facets and dark desires.

Thankfully, once again, the lesson of A Song of Ice and Fire (and, by extension, though somewhat less clearly, Game of Thrones) is that we humans possess a capacity for both good and evil. A better world, the sort that both Jon and Daenerys dreamed of, is indeed possible. But it is only through acts of mercy, forgiveness, and compassion, not the perpetuation of violence, cruelty, and oppression.

With the end of the television show, viewers might wish to take the opportunity to reflect upon this. And, while they’re at it, probably start reading the original books to see for themselves all the details that they missed out on.

Carlos Roa is the senior editor of The National Interest.

Image: HBO.