Ron Swanson—a Great Man with a Dumb Cause
The Tragedy of Libertarianism, Capitalism, and Simping for Unworthy Things
Normally I avoid writing about popular culture and contemporary politics—if only because such topics tend to shallow the soul. But a man like Ron Swanson is a walking, talking exception, and his plight in a world that has no place for him connects well to my normal themes.
Between 2009 and 2015, the writers and producers of NBC’s Parks and Recreation exhibited a perplexing combination of comedic charm, progressive hackery, and unintentional insight—often aiming to get laughs or score cheap political points, but also stumbling upon more profound observations by mistake.
One observation involves the sorry shape of men in the 21st century. Unimpressive specimens abound in Pawnee, Indiana: Tom Haverford (voracious consumer), Jerry Gergich (incompetent functionary), Chris Traeger (maniacal optimist), Jean-Ralphio Saperstein (droll fraud), and Andy Dwyer (lovable loser). The accountant and political strategist Ben Wyatt has just enough depth to qualify him for romance with our protagonist-reformer Leslie Knope, but one must forgive his inexcusable nerdery. Men in this world are good for little but comedic fodder.
Ron Swanson was supposed to be something similar—a cranky public servant hellbent on abolishing his employer. In early episodes he was mostly an afterthought, another of the eccentric characters in orbit around Leslie and her friend Anne Perkins. But slowly he began stealing scenes and firing off winning lines with a gruff comedic genius: “Honor: If you need it defined, you don’t have it.” “I’d wish you the best of luck, but I believe luck is a concept created by the weak to explain their failures.” “Keep your tears in your eyes—where they belong.” Soon enough it was undeniable that Ron is the most interesting character on the show and the only real man in a world of chumps.
But for all Ron’s unintended magnetism and appeal, he is a thwarted man, a wolf in a zoo. Ron is, after all, a libertarian.
(Trigger warning: the following is rather hard on libertarians. To clarify, respectable people who generally prefer smaller government and thus call themselves libertarians are to be distinguished from those fanboy-ideologues who think that every problem can be solved by staying the hell out of it and/or turning it over to The Market. A true libertarian, in the words of one historian, is a man “with fanatic attachment to a simple solitary principle—that is, to the notion of personal freedom as the whole end of the civil social order, and indeed of human existence.”)
The Libertarian
The writers and producers stumble upon three key insights regarding Ron’s libertarianism.
Insight #1: The modern world deprives a man of a cause more noble than libertarianism.
Wiser civilizations than ours gave spirited people a host of unchosen goods that make life worth living: faith, tradition, family, duty, communal bonds, local attachments, a sense of honor, noble struggle, etc. But these very things obstruct the progressive administrator in his attempts to refashion society along more efficient and supposedly rational guidelines—meaning that such obstructions must be busted up with power tools and propaganda.
Ron is thus alone; he has more ex-wives than friends, and he is just fine with that. If he believes in God, it is in such a private way as to be almost meaningless. Asked about his religion, he responds, “I am a practicing none-of-your-[expletive]-business.” Modern life, in short, has left Ron with nothing more substantial to dedicate himself to than capitalism and individual rights.
When Leslie attempts to prevent concession stands at local parks from selling “nutrition bars” which are borderline-poisonous, Ron says, “Leslie needs to back off. The whole point of this country is if you wanna eat garbage, balloon up to 600 pounds and die of a heart attack at 43, you can! You are free to do so! To me, that's beautiful.”
Insight #2: The libertarian is impotent against the administrators.
In fact, libertarianism is the Regime’s preferred variety of controlled opposition—not only tolerated but encouraged, because it poses zero threat. Ron’s job in his contests against Leslie is to lose, as is most apparent when Leslie undermines his scouting troop, the Pawnee Rangers. Upset with the Rangers’ policy of excluding girls, Leslie ruthlessly and shamelessly crashes the Rangers’ austere camping trip and lures the boys away with creature comforts; it’s just a matter of time until all the boys in the Rangers wish to join Leslie’s organization instead, the Pawnee Goddesses. (At this point, the writers seem unaware of what, exactly, they set out to satirize.) Driven by some slight compunction for her scheming, Leslie makes things right by relaunching Ron’s defunct scouting club in the form of the Pawnee Swansons, a co-ed version of the Rangers, which was what she wanted in the first place. Ron complies. However charmingly he might protest, Ron is ill-equipped to do anything but accept whatever Leslie giveth and taketh away.
Fittingly, Ron’s ultimate destiny is exile on a park Leslie creates for him, while Leslie and her husband serve terms at several different levels of local, state, and national influence: city councilor, congressional campaign manager, congressman, cabinet-level secretary, governor, and perhaps even president. This is not to say that Ron won’t live a good life as a park superintendent, but he has surrendered the political realm to Leslie and Ben, and all the while he has championed an economic arrangement that consolidates power in the hands of nerdy oligarchs and their low-T armies of litigators, lobbyists, marketers, and HR managers. The result is a society in which Tom Haverfords far outnumber Ron Swansons. And, being incapable of self-government, people like Tom require Leslie to govern them; thus the managerial state grows and grows—thanks at least in part to Ron.
Insight #3: Despite the limitations placed on him by his facile and impotent political philosophy, the manly man is still indispensable. Ron is undoubtedly the star of what was supposed to be Leslie Knope’s show. He claims a place in the hearts of countless viewers. In a recent mock-NCAA tournament run by TheRinger.com to determine the most iconic television character of the century, Swanson made it to the final four, losing only to the eventual champion, Michael Scott of The Office. So a show that sought to lampoon small town/red state backwardness had more success in glorifying the manly man.
Ron and Us
As a former libertarian and fanboy for all things capitalism, the thwarting of Ron Swanson hits me where it hurts. I don’t know whether to feel anger or embarrassment or both when thinking of the time I spent reading Ayn Rand and the energy I dedicated to arguing on behalf of The Market. I had no idea that my cause was so effete. Honor? Magnanimity? Chivalry? No—you don’t need those things when you’ve got economics figured out.
I can also attest to the rise of the spirit that occurs when one stops championing libertarianism and starts championing a more ancient code of flourishing. Unshockingly, a man who studies Richard the Lionheart and Charlemagne can’t help but become more noble than he had been while fixating on tax rates or supply and demand.
Keep reading Richard the Lionhearted and Charlemagne. The world needs the more manly men!