Game of Thrones
In my years in academia I observed that the difference between elite and ordinary schools is this: at ordinary institutions, conversations among faculty, administrations and staff might cover politics, or what’s on television, or even, wonder of wonders, God; at elite institutions, all anyone wants to talk about is power. Who has the power, or how will X use power, or how will Y development affect the ones who have power, and what is the person in charge going to do about Z? Power is a source of fascination.
The best show on television about who is in charge is the enormously popular Game of Thrones, based on George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Fire and Ice. The HBO series has just concluded its second season, with a third season scheduled to begin in the fall. This otherworldly, quasi-medieval and decidedly non-Christian story depicts the interaction of several powerful families, each vying for the iron throne—a cathedra built from the melted down swords of past enemies. From this throne, the ruler will have power over seven kingdoms.
King Robert Baratheon (Mark Addy), a sort of parody of Henry VIII with his boundless appetite for game, women and blood, dies the death that Henry deserved—he is gored by a boar in a hunting accident. A crisis of succession ensues as members of several families with claims to the throne converge on the capital city of King’s Landing.
