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Mad Men, Season Seven, Episode Fourteen, "Person To Person"

Don Draper becomes the best thing a person can be: observed.

This contains spoilers for the final episode of Mad Men.

I’ve always been struck by a very small runner here – it’s the most plot-mechanical one, really. The heads of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce have been hired by Jim Hobart (who has been trying to poach Don in particular for ten years). Except Don has one of his characteristic Hamlet-like moments of anxiety and has disappeared, wandering America like a vagabond. I’ve always been tickled by the fact that the only two people to worry about this are Hobart, who knows him least, and Peggy, who arguably knows him best. Peggy talks to multiple people, believing something is really wrong with Don right now, but they all brush her off. After all, Don does this all the time.

I’ve always enjoyed how this moment is both humiliating and humanising for Don, especially because he isn’t aware of it. Don’s central conflict is that he wants to empathise with other people but doesn’t want other people to empathise with him, or more accurately doesn’t want to want that. The big emotional ending for Don is when he’s in that therapy group, and he sees a guy who feels the exact same way he does, and for the first time, Don allows someone to see that he feels the same as them. Up until then, the only way he allowed other people to see him was under the cloak of advertising; this was his way of sharing himself with other people.

This is after a lifetime of masking. Don did the behaviours that would give other people an image of him – an illusory idea of a Normal Family Man. People are very good at picking up on patterns, so it’s very funny that they also pick up that he’ll vanish for a couple of months every now and again, then show back up and go back to work like nothing happened. Like, this has become normal for these people.

Don’s masking is a form of control, but the problem is that people as a rule are far too messy and independent to ever be controlled; the exist at all is to be observed, and to be observed is to be diagnosed, and to be diagnosed is to be controlled, and to be controlled is to be owned. People generally want two contradictory things: to fit into a group, and to be special. Don’s journey is simply an exaggerated expression of doing both the worst possible way.

The sad thing for Don is that to be loved is to be observed. When I was in my twenties, I went through a much sadder, less interesting version of self-isolation for much the same reason. I think acceding control of that image people have of you, particularly people who love you, is a necessary act. Even now, I’m often confused by people who strike me as intelligent, reasonable, highly competent people who are spoken about by their (equally admirable) friends and colleagues like they’re naive idiots who need to be protected from themselves.

But that’s the nature of people and community, I suppose. Nobody could be who Don is trying to be; everyone thinks they are. Everyone thinks they are, if not the protagonist of reality, then its bemused narrator a la Arrested Development. It’s the deal you have to make if you choose to live in the world; you receive criticism and diagnosis alongside love and companionship.