“When everything seems to be lacking in integrity…you find it in yourself. You change the world from right where you’re standing.”
This is one of the many passionate stances taken on integrity by religion and ethics professor turned government spy Henry McCord (Tim Daly), on the Sunday night primetime drama of the 2010’s, CBS’ Madam Secretary, which starred Daly opposite Téa Leoni in the high powered role of Elizabeth McCord, a former CIA analyst turned Secretary of State and, in the final season of the series, President of the United States. Madam Secretary had plenty to offer besides catchy, ardent one-liners by Tim Daly’s charming character, though — from its fast-paced political back and forth to its heartfelt depiction of marriage and family — it showcased an arguably ideal hour of television with a starry cast including Keith Carradine, Bebe Neuwirth, and Zejlko Ivanek in support of Leoni and Daly in the leading roles. But, in the midst of rousing speeches, family dinners, the utterly romantic marriage between the McCords, and Téa Leoni’s indulgently strong willed and un-political Elizabeth, there remained the appropriately named elephant in the room: politics.
Madam Secretary, in determined and purposeful avoidance of isolating any one political faction in its viewer base, intentionally straddled and sometimes completely obliterated party lines to an almost impossible extent and painted its main character as a pillar of aspirational politics who thought herself a public servant — not a politician — with a conveniently built-in moral compass in the form of her ethicist husband. But in portraying a people-over-politics utopia, did Madam Secretary perhaps do more harm than good? And is it possible that the ethics of the characters are overshadowed by the ethics of the concept itself?
To answer that, we have to dive into the collective moral compass of the fictional Elizabeth McCord and her scrappy staff at the State Department. Elizabeth is portrayed throughout the series as intentionally un-political, even at one point stating that she “has never belonged to a party,” and the show steers away from even saying the words “Republican” or “Democrat,” particularly in the early seasons. In this way, Elizabeth is an anomaly in both real-world and television politics, but she navigates this uncharted terrain effortlessly. In the very capable hands of Téa Leoni in her first television role since 1995’s The Naked Truth, Elizabeth is every bit as charming, crafty, and compelling as one could possibly hope for. Leoni captures a strength and softness in the character that makes her downright lovable as she battles against foreign dictators and her exasperating teenage children alike. The State Department staffers make for a delightful ensemble, particularly Erich Bergen in the role of Elizabeth’s put-together assistant Blake, Bebe Neuwirth in the first four seasons as the mysterious and capable chief of staff Nadine, and Sebastian Arcelus as Jay, a sometimes pessimistic but altogether hopeful policy wonk. If there is anything that ties Elizabeth to her staff, it is reliably their collective desire to put people over politics, a worthy pursuit that strikes, at times, perhaps too aspirational of a tone.
They are balanced, of course, by the standard political guy: a character who takes the more expected cynical approach to politics and is always available to bring everyone back to the real world with a well-placed remark about polling numbers and optics. Russell Jackson (Zejlko Ivanek) is the hardened chief of staff to President Dalton (Keith Carradine) and, later in the series, he will reprise the same role in Elizabeth’s own Presidential candidacy. He is charming in his own way, mostly thanks to the admirable acting chops of Ivanek, who strikes just the right balance between gruff and incredulous with the occasional dose of surprisingly touching relatability. But for the most part, Russell is there to bring us all back to earth and remind us that this is politics we’re talking about.
Conversely, there is Henry. In the practiced hands of Tim Daly, Henry charms as a devoted family man and fierce defender of all that is right — even when Elizabeth herself occasionally begins to lose sight of what she believes in. He routinely reminds Elizabeth of why took the job of Secretary of State, or later why she decided to run for President, and the answer is always the same: the bottom line of the character, and the show itself, is that Elizabeth only endeavors to use whatever position she has to affect real, positive change in the world. And time and time again, she does just that: we see her give stirring speeches about doing the right thing, strike down unfair foreign policies, go toe-to-toe with dictators, navigate nuclear threats, put her own job and life on the line in the name of saving democracy, and even allow herself to land in jail during the show’s fifth season to make a powerful and effective statement about the treatment of immigrant families in an emotional mirror of real-life events at the United States/Mexico border. And, of course, she does it all with an effervescent and sharp wit.
For those of us watching from a real world that is rife with political unease and a definitive lack of ethics in politics, this is nothing less than a breath of fresh air. But it’s also dangerous. Elizabeth is primarily a pillar of righteousness, and when she occasionally falls short, her husband is always there to remind her of what is moral — a perfect system of checks and balances. While that is something to aspire to, in marriage and even more so in the realm of politics, there is an argument to be made that Elizabeth’s effective pursuit of ethical politics misrepresents real government to an almost painful extent.
It is worth mentioning, however, that while aspirational, Madam Secretary also consistently endeavored to bring attention to an onslaught of worthy, real-world causes throughout the series. From championing UNICEF (presumably due to Tea Leoni’s real-life active role in the organization) to tackling the humanitarian crisis at the United States/Mexico border, to taking a strong stance on climate change and bringing it to the forefront of the characters’ focus many times over the course of the series, it is safe to say that Madam Secretary did not shy away from controversial issues, even in its endeavors to appeal to a politically diverse audience.
Additionally, it sought to represent diversity in its cast and in the stories it told, highlighting a number of marginalized communities within its main cast. On an interpersonal level, we are witness to a tender interaction between Elizabeth and her assistant Blake in season three, in which he comes out to her as bisexual. Elizabeth’s plucky and endearing speechwriter Matt navigates his identity as a Pakistani-American working in the United States government — a role portrayed with authenticity by Geoffrey Arend, who is half-Pakistani himself. Press secretary Daisy (Patina Miller) exemplifies the strengths and struggles of being a Black woman both in the professional world and later as a mother to her young daughter. And in the later seasons, new recruit Kat Sandoval (portrayed by nonbinary actor Sara Ramirez) brings an important Latinx-American and queer perspective to the team at the State Department. On a larger scale, Madam Secretary always endeavored to shed light on a broad variety of diverse people around the world through a consistent lens of empathy and humanity.
Perhaps it is also pertinent to remember that Madam Secretary began airing in 2014 — squarely in the middle of Barack Obama’s second term as President of the United States. Culturally, it was a time of overall hope for the future of politics and for the country. In light of the political atmosphere, it’s easy to see how Madam Secretary got off to a strong start in its insistent portrayal of nonpartisan, indivisible politics. But the show ran for six seasons, and the latter half of those coincided with the Trump presidency between the years of 2016 and 2019, a time of deeply divisive political unrest. To say that the final episodes of the show were received by a very different landscape than the first would be a gross understatement.
Ultimately, the ethics of Madam Secretary becomes a matter of pure timing. In a pre-Trump world, the ins and outs of the United States government had not been so thoroughly exposed or examined. Not only Madam Secretary but also the political dramas that came before it, such as The West Wing, were afforded a certain amount of leeway with which they could portray political figures in a feel-good light. In the era of post-Trump disillusionment, what once felt aspirational can begin to feel more like an outright falsity.
By the time we see Elizabeth running for, and winning, the Presidency accompanied by her former political rival in the role of Vice President Carlos Morejon (José Zúñiga), it seems entirely out of reach in juxtaposition to the utter hopelessness of partisan politics in the real world. To the credit of the show’s creators and writers, this utopia maintains a tone of attainability that you can almost fall for, even to the end. It follows Elizabeth through countless successes and a few hard losses in the office of Secretary of State, and eventually wraps up with a rousing, inspiring season of her Presidential endeavors that has viewers yearning for the integrity of a real-life McCord ballot. But it also calls to light the question of the same ethics that it works so hard to defend over the course of the series: is it right, in a slightly more illuminated and disillusioned world, to illustrate any politician — even a fictional one — as a pillar of morality? Or is the system itself too corrupt to support such an idea?
Ultimately, it comes down to the delicate and often blurred line between fiction and reality, an inevitability when attempting to authentically but likably portray something as inherently controversial as American politics. There is an argument to be made that it’s irresponsible to depict politics through such a rose-colored lens. Additionally, there is an element of wanting more from our media — that they should pick a side and avoid straddling the fence of politics for the sake of not offending viewers. This argument might say that Elizabeth McCord’s fictional adherence to ethical practices and relentless morality are entirely too far-fetched and illustrate an unattainable falsehood. But there is also something else that she consistently brings to the table — hope.
In the final scene of the series, Elizabeth and Henry as President and First Gentleman of the United States embark together on a picturesque train tour of the country, and we as the viewer leave them intent on the same thing they have always strived for — to bring hope and integrity to the government and the nation. In the end, they are just doing their best to mend the tears of a fraught and uncertain world, and it is that hopeful note which struck a chord in viewers from the first season to the last. While the future of aspirational politics in television might feel uncertain, one thing is not: that as human beings, we seek out the things that inspire and bring out the best in us.
Maybe in the harsh light of a politically fraught world, we are looking all the more for the Elizabeth McCords of the world — be they inside the hallowed halls of our government, or on our television screens.
