So why in the world—after 27 (so far) episodes of watching him lie to his family, cook hundreds of pounds of methamphetamine, and enter the world of organized crime as the fastest-growing threat to the established southwestern drug cartel—am I still rooting for him?
Through a Marxist lens—specifically Sellnow’s framework for dominant, negotiated, and oppositional audience readings—Breaking Bad functions as a case study in how capitalism produces sympathy for moral collapse rather than resistance to the system itself. It is remarkable what this show has convinced its audience to forgive.
I mentioned to my dad the other day that I had started watching Breaking Bad for the first time. His response was telling: “Oh yeah. If I’m ever feeling bad about life, I just turn on an episode of Breaking Bad. It could always be worse.”
Walter White is a high school chemistry teacher. His teenage son, Walter Jr., has cerebral palsy. His wife is seven months pregnant with an unplanned baby girl. Despite working multiple jobs, Walter remains barely afloat financially. When he is diagnosed with aggressive, late-stage lung cancer, he is left facing near-certain death and catastrophic medical debt—his final “gift” to his family. With too much pride to accept any form of “charity,” Walter turns to cooking meth.
Initially, this drastic leap appears to signal a subverted opposition to hegemony. Teacher to drug lord suggests a rejection of the status quo. However, Walter White does not oppose capitalism; he embodies its most ruthless logic. His criminality is framed not as rebellion, but as entrepreneurship undertaken when legitimate systems fail him. Uncomfortably, it is hard not to empathize with his decision.
We root for Walter not because he resists power, but because he aligns with deeply ingrained capitalist ideals: self-reliance, masculine provision, and “moving up” in the world. His violence is narratively softened because it is framed as responsibility rather than greed—at least at first.
According to Sellnow, an inflected oppositional reading bends dominant ideology to serve individual needs rather than rejecting it outright. Walter’s reading is inflected rather than oppositional because his goal is never systemic change. His aim is painfully traditional: a mortgage paid, children provided for, and a legacy secured. The drug money is meant to purchase normalcy, not disrupt it.
Breaking Bad ultimately reveals a contradiction at the heart of capitalism. When legitimate labor fails to provide dignity, security, or upward mobility, illicit labor becomes narratively justified. Walter White’s descent is not a rejection of the system—it is capitalism stripped of its civility, and the most unsettling truth is not that Walter becomes a criminal, but that the show teaches us to understand why.
Are we rooting for Walter White because he resists the system—or because we recognize ourselves in the logic that justifies his actions?
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