#I've been writing this over the weekend after convos with several people and I'm :/ about it but I'm traveling so it is what it is.

[captainofthetidesbreath]

I've threatened in the past to write a post about Spahr's passive narrative role, and I'm finally getting around to it because I've been talking to several folks about him and that passivity recently. I've covered this topic in broad level and as a specific element regarding Spahr in 1.18: A Good Man and in 2.11: Inside. I recommend reading that post as a companion piece to this, though you'll recognize a lot of quoting here of that post.

His passivity (as a narrative role) can be broadly divided into two categories: him not taking action for various reasons, and his mere presence being something that incites reaction.

The latter is a smaller category. Lark and Fuze see his ship arrive on Midst, then scramble to move and change the circumstances of the situation before he has time to do anything: Fuze by promptly writing a letter to arrange a meeting, Lark by murdering Fuze. Phineas reacts to his arrival at the cabaret before he does anything at all. Spahr's presence is, on its own, powerful. It's noteworthy that all three of these instances do not react to Spahr as a person, really. He's simply a looming concept. The Prime Consector Jonas Spahr, a concept of a man. While this is a smaller category, it does create a problem of a lack of agency for Spahr. (Put a pin in the concept of agency for a moment.) In these moments, Spahr is less an active agent within the narrative and more simply an inciting incident. He does not really ACT when he arrives on Midst (setting Fuze and Lark to act) or when he arrives in the cabaret (setting Phineas to act), he simply exists in the space. Jonas Spahr arrives, and others drive the plot in reaction, but he does not get to act. The event happens in reaction to him but without his input, and it goes on without waiting for him to do anything at all.

The former, him not taking action, is a much larger category, and it collects a lot of different things. But, at the heart of it, it is about Spahr's own inaction or failure to take action. This happens for a variety of reasons, ranging from purposefully ignoring what is happening in front of him to a failure to commit including out of fear, concern for his position, or other inability to speak up. As a result, his role in the narrative is a generally passive one that largely centers on watching and observing. It's the first thing he does as a player in this story. He steps back and watches how Phineas handles the Ginsberg situation, and the narrators remind us four separate times in 1.03: Mica:

Thing is, Spahr does a lot of watching but, until more recently, doesn't really SEE all that often. He is for a long time a passive, immovable, unreadable observer to events as the eyes of God the Trust. He is that witness for much of events he's involved in, for... well, worse. After Phineas attacks Sherman, Spahr himself is quick to identify this problem with himself in 2.02: Ascendancy, that he is watching and looking but he is, perhaps intentionally, not seeing and noticing:

Worse than simply watching: he ALLOWS. He ignores the signs of Phineas's desperation, so that he doesn't need to do anything. He allows Imelda to convince him to leave Phineas behind on Midst. He allows Imelda to push him into making a statement about how fine things are on Midst. He allows Hieronymous to pressure him into bending the rules. He allows Imelda to torture Weepe (he allows Imelda to do a lot of things), and he feels like he's allowed the circumstances for Weepe to become Tripotentiary. He doesn't defend himself at his court-martial. He allows Costigan talk to him however she wants. He allowed the Upper Trust to conclude that Phineas should be fired if he didn't immediately improve.

That last one is contentious, and having to explain why I interpret it that way is useful to unpacking the crux of Spahr's central flaw here. (A case study, if you will.) Many interpret that it is Spahr's idea to threaten to fire Phineas as a motivator, but given the pattern created by every other incident in the list, I don't agree. Spahr deeply struggles with disagreeing with those in positions of power and influence over him. He carries out, dutifully and without complaint, the orders given to him because he lacks the will to resist or to refuse. (Again, he doesn't even fight for himself against the Upper Trust.) I think of Spahr casually mentioning he was ordered not to help and his stumbling panic when Phineas is fearful. Because of this, it doesn't track for me the idea that Spahr formulated this idea to fire Phineas.

It feels much more in keeping with his character and the details of his behavior during the scene—and with his established shortcomings and timidity and his tendency to quietly allow and carry out what he does not want—that the Upper Trust decided this and Spahr could not bring himself to fight it and instead chose to carry out his orders against Phineas. For me, it more coheres if he abdicated the responsibility onto Phineas and asked him to do the impossible, shifting the burden from himself to Phineas, all because he couldn't summon conviction, because he lacked the courage to disagree and the spine to stand for what he believes or wants. Case in point toward this interpretation: the scene in the Arca.

Season two is about Spahr realizing that he allows. We see it as he begins to process having abandoned Phineas and having not stopped Imelda:

Spahr is someone whose role is largely passive, both within the Trust systems and within the narrative. Just as much as he is to be seen, he is also very much here to see—and to refuse to see. He makes himself a passive witness to these horrors and allows them, silent and impassive and watching. He can try to intervene, last minute, but he's already facilitated this. The cabaret, the Arca. Even Sherman feeling he needed to take Weepe's deal, with Spahr moving after it is all said and done, is a lighter echo of these two scenes. To quote myself: "it's been asked of him: What are you refusing to see, Jonas? What horrors and brutalities are you allowing to happen? Will you always be intervening much too late?"

Ultimately, Spahr struggles with agency. In the interest of space, I refer to this post collecting episode quotes on the topic. He chafes against the idea that he doesn't have his own authority and is being maneuvered around by the political players in the Trust—but at the same time, he defers his own agency and maintains his own inaction and passivity. It's an incredibly interesting contradiction. He is afraid to fight, to resist, to intervene, and he is unable to find the conviction or the mettle or the spine. He's stood by, he's pushed it onto others like Phineas, he's ignored the signs, he's arrived too late, he's remained silent, he's paralyzed with fear, he's refused to refuse. He, well, does as he is told because he can't bring himself to defy his orders. He yields, every time. His role in this narrative thus far is defined by the fact that he does not act, that he chooses not to act or see, that he is frozen in place by fear or status, that even when he does try to act he cannot complete the action for some reason, that events are passing him by. He has yet to successfully take an effective, decisive, active action because he is locked in place—by circumstance, by more active agents, most of all by his constant decision to aquiesce. He always chooses not to muster the courage to do something hard, difficult, and costly for what he believes is right while the fight still means something, before it is too little, too late. Weepe is right: the Trust had him on a leash, and he was very willing to heel.

Spahr's greatest sin is that he has repeatedly allowed all this. Hopefully, before this is all over, he'll find the strength to refuse to keep doing so. Dig in his heels and refuse to do as told.