Don Draper commands attention—enough to merit an entire TV show, in fact. On the ’60s era drama “Mad Men,”  Draper commits heinous acts and lives by an extraordinarily questionable code  of ethics, yet still never fails to fascinate.  

Askmen.com has hailed him as a “role model for men everywhere,” and he is among those named “men of the year” by GQ magazine almost every year. 

Even for those aware of his flaws, Draper holds a peculiar attraction. His serial philandering and rampant sexism certainly earn him his fair share of criticism, but casually dismissing him as the villain of a TV show does ignore the bigger problem: people look up to this man.

I should take this moment to step down off my high horse, and admit that I too find Draper fascinating. “Mad Men” is really the only TV show I watch, despite the ever present lure of Netflix-assisted procrastination. Even so, I know enough to know that Draper isn’t alone on TV; these days, just about every major TV drama offers a take on the classic “anti-hero.” 

I paid close attention a couple months ago when people bounced off the walls waiting to find out what happened to Walter White, who ran a meth empire. And when White died, fans hosted and paid to attend to his fake funeral. 

Draper and White certainly aren’t the first modern anti-heroes, or even the most popular. James Dean popularized the trope portraying Jim Stark, the emotionally confused lead of the 1955 film “Rebel Without a Cause.” 

But Dean was of a different time. The anti-heroes of today come by the dozen, each with a different vice designed to appeal to a different group of viewers, but Dean was unique. 
In an era that thrived on the impeccable leading man, Dean matched up against characters like Rick Blaine—the man who’s biggest flaw was successfully doing everything on his own—and Atticus Finch, who could only speak words of wisdom. These characters defined their time. 
Today we see optimism as endearing at best; our heroes are hard-bitten realists entirely cognizant of the mediocrity of the worlds they inhabit. We value their ability to manipulate their peers and exert their will. But above all, we value their ability to do so without getting caught.

Our hearts race when Walter White kills someone or Don Draper cheats with his best friend’s wife. We see the unattainable—the things we could never dream of doing—and we latch on, desperate for any vicarious pleasure.

But the explosion of these characters’ popularity shouldn’t come as a surprise. The 1950s were notable only for how normal they were—the idealization of the nuclear family is just one example of our conformist national idealogy. Contrast that to today, when the Internet has transformed even our least thoughtful citizens into comment crusaders determined to save America. 

The change reflects our new social mindset: go harder. Be it the brinksmanship that now characterizes our nation’s capitol or the bravery behind every frat star’s newest drinking challenge, we are now a people destined to bend the rules. 

This puts Bowdoin students at an interesting crossroads, where the moral code—instilled in us at every turn—bumps up against the increasing appeal of the anti-hero lifestyle. We might well ask, how can a moral code that tells us we have no excuses, just an empty hole in our lives, ever hope to compete with an ideology that offers the constant convenient excuse, “I’m sorry you couldn’t handle my intensity.” 

One of life’s greatest skills is empathy. And here at Bowdoin, we pride ourselves on developing interpersonal skills that will lead us to triumphant places in life. 

So, as a student body, we owe it to ourselves to embrace the moral hole in our existence. Why else would we have come here? And when we receive enticing snapchats from our friends at other schools, we will receive them like champions, because, soon enough, the next season of “Mad Men” will come out.