JPTV 7 (1) pp.

39–56 Intellect Limited 2019

Journal of Popular Television

Volume 7 Number 1
© 2019 Intellect Ltd Article. English language. doi: 10.1386/jptv.7.1.39_1

George S. Larke-Walsh
University of North Texas

‘The King’s shilling’: How Peaky

Blinders uses the experience
of war to justify and celebrate
toxic masculinity

Abstract Keywords
Peaky Blinders (2013–present) is a complex and contradictory study of toxic mascu- gangsters
linity as a set of behaviours that are destructive to the self and others. It uses the violence
historical period, post-First World War, to explore the damage war inflicts upon television
the male psyche, but its sympathies for the men also reveal a darker aspect of this lad culture
narrow concept of male identity. This does not only emanate from its unashamed nostalgia
glorification of criminality, but also from its representation of some of the deep- nationalism
rooted yet contradictory beliefs that still exist in postcolonial British national iden- First World War
tity. This article explores the role of war as a justification for continued violence, the
notion that war (and associated state-sanctioned violence) irreparably damages men,
the nostalgia for nationalism through working-class and ethnic identities and the
objectification of the main characters’ physical and emotional identities through the
ever-present potential for ‘good’ women to repair ‘bed’ men.

I have no sympathies of any description

(Thomas Shelby, Peaky Blinders, Season 1, Episode 3)

39
George S. Larke-Walsh

Gangster films and television series revel in displays of behavioural excess.

Their heroes are traditionally associated with a refusal to accept limits and
audiences are encouraged to delight in their extreme behaviour, mostly
because the gangster world is shown as a world apart. In this context, Peaky
Blinders (2013–present) is simply a twenty-first-century example of the gang-
ster genre made for television. However, like The Sopranos (1999–2007) before
it, Peaky Blinders can be seen as more than just an adaptation of genre conven-
tions. Spanning four series to date (with the fifth series on its way at the time
of writing), its celebratory presentation of masculine identities feels less of
a world apart despite, or perhaps because, of its historical setting. It utilizes
nostalgia for nationalism, enacted within displays of extreme aggression as
well as promoting regressive masculine ideals, specifically British ‘lad culture’,
which perpetuates and promotes the normalcy of male violence (Hatty 2000;
Whitehead 2002). In the current sociopolitical environment, and associated
concerns about the prevalence of toxic masculinity, such presentations no
longer feel safely confined to fantasy.
Vera Dika once described The Godfather trilogy (Coppola, 1972, 1974, 1990)
as a ‘significant fantasy [...] that embodies the wish for an all-white militant
group’ (2000: 96). The opposing argument (that included my own) believed
the ‘otherness’ of their Italian American identity separated them from white
America. On balance, it is evident the mask of ethnicity veiled the essentialist
rhetoric at the heart of all of the Godfather films. It can be argued The Sopranos
continued this appeal to American audiences and now Peaky Blinders is a
romantic and viciously decadent but no less essentialist British example of the
same fantasy. The family’s gypsy heritage, like the Corleone’s Italianness, is a
useful distraction from the militant essentialism that pervades the narrative.
This article will focus on how the series utilizes a generalized portrait of work-
ing-class, ethnic and masculine identities validated by the support of strong
women characters in order to promote an acceptance of the men’s extreme
behaviour as acts of valour.
Peaky Blinders draws on the classic American gangster tropes that so many
audiences have found appealing. On the surface, it seems as though audi-
ences are encouraged to engage in a perverse allegiance (Smith 1999) with
these men, but it is evident that audience sympathy is not encouraged ‘because
of the perverse act [but] in spite of that act’ (1999: 223, original emphasis).
Various contextual features of the series support this fact. The strong female
characters, whose constant critique of the men’s behaviour provide some of
the most engaging dialogue of the series, serve to soften the male charac-
ters and make them less monstrous. The men’s violence is also contextualized
within a specifically British political context. It is framed as a response to more
malignant characters such as Inspector Chester Campbell (Sam Neill), or
Luca Changretta (Adrien Brody) and their toxic and morally corrupt environ-
ments, ruled by both domestic politicians and international crime bosses. The
Peaky Blinders, positioned here as the local working-class underdogs, appeal
to audiences to support and applaud their fight against oppression from the
‘bigger dogs’.
While the context for the fight may be justified in the narrative, the level
of violence and callous self-destructive behaviour involved can be argued
as a representation of toxic masculinity. This label has re-emerged in recent
sociopolitical discourses both within and outside academia. It is especially
concerned with the prevalence and/or representation of male violence and so
it needs clarification. First and foremost it should be understand that toxic

40   Journal of Popular Television

 ‘The King’s shilling’

masculinity is a definition of manhood that is confined to a very limited set

of behaviours and actions. It is a form of regressive masculinity typified in
violence (Hatty 2000; Whitehead 2002; Beynon 2002; Keith 2017) and misog-
yny (García-Favaro and Gill 2016; Sculos 2017), but is also fragile (Chodorow
2002; Kupers 2005) and self-destructive (Karner 1996; Ferber 2000).
Tracey Karner’s article from 1996 focused on the ways propaganda and war
experience influenced the ‘toxic’ post-war identities of Vietnam veterans and
is thus pertinent for the masculine identities presented in Peaky Blinders. The
cultural history described by Karner mirrors the experience of the First World
War veterans, because in similar ways both eras utilized the myth that men
fight to prove that they are men (Phillips 2006). In both histories men volun-
teered for war based on socially constructed ideals of masculinity and stories
of heroism from previous wars. Their return to society was not met with
understanding or sufficient support and the consequences of this resulted in
behaviour that was destructive both to themselves and others. Karner’s study
is useful to help illustrate the cultural context drawn upon by Peaky Blinders to
explain male behaviour and why this type of experience – the war veteran –
still resonates for today’s audiences. Karner’s article summarizes the Vietnam
veterans’ experience thus:

They found themselves stranded somewhere between who they once

were and who, after Vietnam, they could never be. They lived in a nebu-
lous state of unfulfilled manhood, where traditional means of attain-
ment had been invalidated and their strivings to regain this loss were
manifested in forms I categorize as ‘toxic masculinity’.
(1996: 66)

Toxic masculinity is thus described as the process by which an individual

loses faith not only in the self, but also in any sense of connection or faith in
wider society. The men of the Vietnam War, just like those in the First World
War, had been raised on myths of male heroism that connect violence with
valour. However, upon return home the valour of war is replaced by wider
society’s horror at the veteran’s association with such an event. Thus, the ideal
masculinity they strived, and were encouraged, to attain is now a viewed as
a deformity. The individual is stuck in a cycle of destructive behaviour that
constantly attempts to reassert those lost ideals of masculinity only to have
the assertions rejected by others. While Peaky Blinders is not a sociological
study, nor even a realistic portrayal of post-First World War Britain, arguably it
still has something to say about how the masculine identities of war veterans
can be deemed toxic in various ways both by wider society as well as the men
involved.
Retributive masculinity (Rutherford 1992), or its popular UK labels
laddism and lad culture, is another manifestation of toxic masculinity. It is a
celebration of a romanticized and misguided concept of working-class mascu-
linity through performative expressions of heteronormative behaviour, such as
sexual banter and boasting, consumption of alcohol and playing or supporting
sport or music. Laddism has permeated British popular culture since the 1990s
and while its focus on banter may suggest it as ironic and thus less extreme
as other forms of toxic masculinity, its self-serving ‘men first’ assertions have
helped to create the current predilection for regressive rather than progressive
rhetoric in political, social and cultural discourses. The British journalist Jack
Urwin offers a very perceptive summary of lad culture as ‘an attempt to claw

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George S. Larke-Walsh

back any power and dominance [it] can’ (2016: 36). The focus on ‘banter’, or
the idea that laddism is simply ironic, is ‘male privilege personified’ (2016: 36),
because it fails to acknowledge the associated aggression. Also, importantly,
Urwin highlights the connections between lad culture and the performance of
working-class identity when he states:

Lad culture tries to emulate the lost working class because of its associa-
tion with masculinity, but it does so in the misinformed belief that it had
been a man’s social standing that gave him validation, when in actual
fact it was the manual work itself.
(2016: 35)

Urwin suggests lad culture as ‘toxic masculinity incarnate’ (2016: 35) because
it ‘is intended to represent an ideal of masculinity’ (2016: 35), but its distance
from any legitimate context makes it superficial. In essence, it is founded on an
idealization of a class of masculinity without recourse to the essential integrity
of that class (i.e. the work).
The mythology of the British gangster is intimately connected to notions of
working-class identity and so it is not hard to see the attraction for lad culture.
In cinema, Steve Chibnall (2009) has noted how certain themes have taken
hold since the release of Guy Ritchie’s Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
(1998) in a plethora of films he labels as ‘gangster light’ (e.g. Circus [Walker,
2000], Love, Honour and Obey [Anciano and Burdis, 2000] and RocknRolla
[Ritchie, 2008]). Such films fully embrace lad culture through unrealistic, visu-
ally decadent aesthetics, stylized performances and glib, or ironic, humour.
Therefore, while Peaky Blinders borrows many of its generic themes from
American gangster films, on most tonal and aesthetic levels Peaky Blinders can
be seen as an example of British ‘gangster light’ for television. While the char-
acters and historical context have the chance to develop more than their film
counterparts, the series retains many of the cinematic aesthetics and themes
Chibnall describes. As a television series it has more time to develop its char-
acters and tackle heavier themes, but in the end the narratives are all delivered
through the mind set of lad culture.
The interesting, but perhaps the most disturbing aspect of Peaky Blinders
comes not from its unashamed glorification of criminality and stylized aesthet-
ics, but from its representation of some of the deep-rooted, yet contradictory
beliefs that still exist in postcolonial British national identity. The series reflects
the return to simplistic nationalist ideological rhetoric, something found in
many other areas of modern culture. On the one hand it is a glorification of
underclass rebellion, it is sympathetic to the plight of military veterans and it
is contemptuous of the self-serving politicians who barter lives for political
gain. However, at the same time it champions the ideals of imperial masculin-
ity, perpetuates racial stereotypes of non-English people and legitimizes the
oppression of others for personal gain. In short, the Shelby family members
are portrayed as both romantic outlaws and nationalist oppressors in equal
measure. As such, the central characters play out the continual and contradic-
tory conflict that occurs within this presentation of British national identity as
simultaneously progressive and regressive.
While the series is set in the years directly after the First World War, it
cannot be claimed as a historically accurate portrayal of the political or social
environment of the United Kingdom at that time. However, the ideology-
fuelled mood of that historical period is continually used to explain the

42   Journal of Popular Television

 ‘The King’s shilling’

motivations behind events and individual actions. The series’ approach to the
chosen historical political events and beliefs is delivered within a postmod-
ern aesthetic framework of slow-motion imagery and modern alternative rock
music. In this fictional world the lines between past and present, and state
sanctioned and criminal violence, are indistinct. It is these indistinct areas of
contradiction, as well as the glorification of imperial masculinity and the belief
in working-class and ethnic identities, that guide the continuing analysis here.
The proceeding discussion will be divided into four key themes and fantasies
that are at the core of the TV series and encourage audience allegiances: the
role of war as a justification for continued violence, the notion that war (and
associated state-sanctioned violence) irreparably damages men, the nostalgia
for nationalism through working-class and ethnic identities that also links the
narrative time period to twenty-first century concerns and, lastly, the objecti-
fication of the main characters’ physical and emotional identities through the
ever-present potential for ‘good’ women to repair ‘bad’ men.

War as a justification for continued violence

The series makes constant references to individual war experiences as well
as political interests in the promotion, or profitability of war. By Season 4 this
attention is so well understood that viewers can smile and acknowledge the
moment when Luca Changretta, with a sigh, explains England to a colleague;
‘everything here is about the war’ (Season 4, Episode 4). To ‘take the King’s shil-
ling’ is a colloquial term that appears predominantly in the first two seasons’
dialogue and means to agree to serve in the armed forces. When an individual
takes the King’s shilling she or he is stating their willingness to kill and/or die
in service to the country. It refers specifically to an actual payment given to
those enlisted by recruiters in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. While
the practice ended decades before the First World War, the phrase remained
in the popular imagination as a reference to patriotic duty. However, it is a
phrase that also conjures the darker side of that duty in that it marks the indi-
vidual as a participant in state-sanctioned violence, because ‘to take the King’s
shilling’ is to accept the orders to kill any person or persons deemed enemies
to national (or by association, colonial) security. In the case of Peaky Blinders,
the phrase is used to remind characters and audiences alike that, having taken
the shilling, with all that implies, a man is therefore a state-sanctioned ‘killer
of men’ and more than capable of fulfilling similar duties in service to the
Shelby family and its territories. The men are simply reusing the skills they
obtained on the battlefield.
Jonathan Rutherford reminds us that ‘war is usually conceived of as a rite
of passage, an opportunity for men to find themselves, to prove their mascu-
linity and their capacity to tame their bodies and physical fear’ (1997: 29). Thus,
men who have experienced war are often portrayed as morally and physi-
cally superior to other men; their endurance and self-sacrifice has proved their
value. However, Rutherford also notes how ‘this kind of masculinity appeals to
the latent male violence that is endemic in our culture’ (1997: 31). The celebra-
tion of men’s abilities and excitement for the fight legitimizes a darker impulse
because ‘the borderline between legitimate violence employed by the state
and male violence that threatens social stability is quickly crossed’ (1997: 31).
Peaky Blinders, in its glorification of male violence, obliterates such a border-
line and revels in the brutalities displayed. It is as if the experience of war has
released previously repressed impulses that are now impossible to calm.

www.intellectbooks.com   43
George S. Larke-Walsh

1. There are many Academic studies from the social, cultural and psychology schools of
examples of this work,
such as John and
thought that explore the links between masculinity and violence accept
Arthur’s destruction that throughout history ‘it is men who are expected to be violent, and who
of the Marquis of are honored for doing so and dishonored for being unwilling to be violent’
Lorne pub in Season 2,
Episode 4 after Michael (Gilligan 2000: 231). Such honour depends on the sociopolitical context of
and Isiah are attacked such violence of course – a contextual distinction that narratives such as Peaky
there. Arthur explains: Blinders exploit for their own ends. Society may celebrate man’s potential for
‘We didn’t do it for
you Michael’. John violence in the time of war, but it then immediately condemns it in peace-
continues: ‘we did it for time. This is perhaps why Tommy Shelby (Cillian Murphy) so often asserts the
the good name of the
company’.
family ‘are at war’, in order to rally his troops and to attempt a validating rhet-
oric for their violence. He cites family honour and survival as the reasons for
his call to arms, but also emphasizes the idea, especially in Seasons 1, 2 and 4,
that they are fighting back against those in power – those who originally sent
them all to die in France.
The many reasons why men answer the call to fight is at the heart of most
debates of masculinity and violence. James Gilligan’s work studies the prison
system rather than the battlefield to focus on some of the reasons for the
epidemic of male violence in modern western (specifically American) society.
While he does not use the term toxic masculinity, it is evident that his studies
are focused on the same behaviours. He notes how society’s ‘patriarchal code
of honor and shame generates and obligates male violence’ (2000: 267). This
view aligns with other scholars who have updated Freud’s long-accepted view
that male aggression is an innate drive. Nancy Chodorow suggests it

is not an innate drive needing expression and gratification. It seems

to emerge from a variety of situated psychodynamics that in the most
general sense seem connected to self and other [...] it emerges as a
defense against an endangered self.
(2002: 243)

Violence is a response to perceived attacks from outside forces, be they physical,

or mental. For instance, on a very basic level the Peaky Blinders fight to main-
tain their reputation as the most-feared criminal family. They feel they must
react to every physical threat, but also to engage in intimidation in order to
assert their authority. For example, Tommy explains to Grace (Annabelle Wallis)
in Season 1, Episode 3 that his suits are free, quite simply because otherwise
the warehouse that produces them would burn down. This offhand comment,
like The Godfather’s ‘offer you can’t refuse’, masks the continual vicious work
the Peaky Blinders must perform to confirm their threats as real and maintain
their authority.1 It is their commitment to and their acceptance of the need for
violence that defines them and makes them both terrifying and attractive. Their
behaviour brings them power, but is driven by a soulless attitude to life. It is
no real surprise when in Season 4, Episode 2, Tommy explains that he and his
brothers consider themselves already dead, for they experienced a figurative
‘death’ when trapped in no-man’s land on the battlefields of the First World
War. He considers their existence since as just ‘extra’. In both Gilligan’s and
Chodorow’s studies there is a general acknowledgement that prolonged expo-
sure to violence ‘can cause the death of the self’ (Gilligan 2000: 47) and thus
change an individual’s attitude towards life. Tommy argues that this figurative
death gives them the freedom to live however they wish and thus provides
the psychological motivation for their behaviour. In view of this speech,
their aggressions can be argued as a response to the ridiculous barbarity

44   Journal of Popular Television

 ‘The King’s shilling’

of war rather than an innate desire to dominate others. Hence, the series
encourages an allegiance, wherein audiences are encouraged to put aside their
disgust at the men’s behaviour and instead feel sympathy for their experiences
in war, as well as acknowledge and participate in the illicit thrills of their free-
dom from morals; they are free to live an audaciously immoral life.

War irreparably damages men

If, as Luca Changretta states, ‘everything is about the war’, it is no surprise
that war experience should be used in the series to define the male charac-
ters and encourage audience engagement. This engagement does not neces-
sarily undermine the dominant ideologies at play in the series; in fact, it
could be argued in some instances it helps to bolster it, but it does include
some intriguing portrayals of masculine identities. For instance, the contrast-
ing character traits of Tommy and Arthur Shelby (Paul Anderson) reveal two
opposing responses to war and their resultant masculine identity crises.
Both men are described as different to their pre-war selves. Pre-war Tommy
was noted as a happy boy who laughed a lot while pre-war Arthur was the
respected head of the family. Post-war Tommy is serious and ambitious, while
Arthur is emotionally fragile and lacking self-direction. Hence, the narrative
clearly identifies war as the experience that redefined their identities and can
be argued as the reason for their post-war brutal and self-serving natures. In
short, every assertion of self, every swagger or curse, every sexual or violent
act is contextualized in their war experience. Whether that can be accepted
as justifiable, or a convenient excuse, is a pertinent debate. Audience engage-
ment with violence is described by Murray Smith as a delight in a charac-
ter’s bad behaviour through ‘the emotional thrill of imagined-but-controlled
danger, of slumming it’ (1999: 228). In other words, as Robert Warshow (1948)
originally argued, we can revel in the thrills of such behaviour without having
to take responsibility for it. Does the fact that Tommy refers to his own sexual
attractiveness as a desire for women to ‘slum it’ with a ‘bad’ man mean that
the writers know what game they are playing with these characterizations? It
is hard to decide whether the series is a critique, or a celebration of the char-
acters as populist heroes. Are they questioning our attraction to the strong-
est, fiercest, basest bullies as social outcasts deserving of success, or are they
revelling in it? The success of the series may actually lie in the fact that it both
avoids consistency through self-deprecating humour and the fact that viewers
get caught up in the thrills and desire to ‘slum it’ and are too busy enjoying the
ride to critique the ideology.
The series uses simple contrasts between characters to encourage sympa-
thies and thus reduce complex ideological debates to right or wrong. There
are very few male non-veterans in the first two seasons but Inspector Chester
Campbell (Sam Neill) is crucial, because he is the ultimate ‘bad man’ in terms
of power and social status. His non-participation in the war is seen as both
cowardice and the probable reason for his over-zealous use of violence in the
service of the state. When a fellow officer asks him what he was doing while
they were all doing their duty in France, he responds defensively: ‘I was doing
my duty everyday’ (Season 1, Episode 3). Campbell is not only considered a
villain for his despicable and corrupt brutality, but also because he is not a
veteran and is therefore suspect in terms of loyalty, bravery and masculine
identity. In this context his bullying and violent behaviour is a desperate asser-
tion of masculinity in lieu of active duty. Furthermore, as a representative of

www.intellectbooks.com   45
George S. Larke-Walsh

state-sanctioned violence and power through his connection to the UK state’s

manipulation of the ‘Irish problem’, his character is a marker for the series’
simplistic but strong assertion that state power is both corrupt and abusive. In
contrast, as state power continues to threaten the livelihoods and indeed lives
of such as the Peaky Blinders, then their own brutal activities begin to appear
noble. In a chilling reflection of modern politics, the increasing distrust in
political processes paves the way for opportunist individuals to present them-
selves as saviours of national identity.
Locating Peaky Blinders in the era after the First World War enables the
writers to exploit social and political unrest and rebellion. The Shelby broth-
ers are positioned as working-class heroes mainly because of their status as
loyal, brave but ultimately exploited war veterans. While the Second World
War encouraged unity through the national fight to stop invasion against all
odds, the First World War was a less unifying period. War experience began to
break the barriers between social classes and unveiled the misguided jingo-
ism of imperial identity. Eric J. Leed notes how: ‘the Great War was a nodal
point in the history of industrial civilization because it brought together
material realities and “traditional” mentalities in an unexpectedly disillu-
sioning way’ (1979: 193). He suggests the contradictions between the indus-
trial revolution and the traditional notions of imperial masculinity meant
the mechanized destruction witnessed in the war effectively shattered the
romantic assertions of British masculine identity and revealed them as artifi-
cial social constructs or illusions. The experience of the Great War means ‘the
veteran is a man defined and refined by war, stripped of every social super-
fluity, stripped to his essence’ (1979: 195). That the war veteran’s eyes have
been opened to the hypocrisy of socially constructed definitions of virtue
would account for their disdain for civilians, domestic concerns and politi-
cians in the post-war period in much the same way as Karner noted in the
toxic masculinity of Vietnam veterans. Their sacrifice, greater than those who
stayed at home, and their separation from domestic life, characterizes the
war veteran and is reflected in the characters of the television series. The
effects of the war on individual characters are a recurring theme in all the
seasons, as stated earlier. In Season 1, Episode 1 we are introduced to Danny
Whizz Bang (Samuel Edward-Cook) whose experiences have damaged him
to the point that he has hallucinatory seizures. He believes he is an artil-
lery shell, which sends him crashing into anyone or anything that is near.
His statement early in the series that he feels he ‘died in France’ foreshad-
ows Tommy’s later confession of his own experiences and identifies Danny
as the archetypal irreparably damaged and incurable shell-shocked veteran
and tragic hero; he is the series’ worst-case and most tragic scenario against
which all others can be compared.
War is the traditional arena for celebrations of courage and so it is apt that
Peaky Blinders should use the First World War in such a way. However, such
ideals of masculinity are not confined to history or fiction. Traditional ideals of
manhood are evident in many other recent representations of masculinity in
recent popular culture, which have nothing whatsoever to do with war. Nathan
Blair’s (2013) article on the popularity and prevalence of occupational reality
television series, such as Trawlermen (2006–09), Oil, Sweat and Rigs (2006–07)
and Ice Road Truckers (2007–present) has noted how depictions of men ‘who
get the job done’ under extreme circumstances are contemporary re-work-
ings of traditional myths of male heroism. He suggests ‘the hero’s claim to
masculinity is independent of socio-economic status or culture, but linked

46   Journal of Popular Television

 ‘The King’s shilling’

by a common display of transcendental courage’ (2013: 156) and the char-

acters in these series are ‘the working class heroes of the masses’ (2013: 157)
for they are exalted through the honour of hard work, especially in danger-
ous and extreme conditions. Such images of masculinity shift heroism away
from the image of affluent white-collar masculinity by exalting the deeds of
blue-collar workers (2013: 156) and idealizing their behaviours and world-
views. Such depictions are quite obviously attractive to lad culture’s search
for a lost working-class masculine identity through their regressive images of
‘larger than life’ strength and courage. It is evident that Peaky Blinders draws
on these same myths to suggest the brothers’ ability to survive the horrors of
war and live with the psychological after-effects are acts of loyalty and courage
that also define them as working-class heroes. In such a context, it is under-
standable that viewers may be encouraged to accept the following: we must
forgive their brash, sexist, violent and even their criminal nature for they have
proved their commitment to us (as patriots), are courageous and have survived
horrors we cannot begin to fathom. We understand their desire to fight back
against those in power. They are extreme characters, but as brave men they
deserve our acceptance, empathy and respect.
The character of Arthur is the most extreme example of this call for
acceptance, empathy and respect. His addiction to drink, fits of uncontrollable
violence, penchant for sexual aggression and tendency to weep are used in
the TV series not only to justify his inability to lead the family business, but
are also suggested as uncontrollable reactions to his war-time experiences.
Unlike Danny, Arthur does not appear to suffer from hallucinations, but his
nerves are shattered to the point that he is unable to control his emotions
and thus can no longer be an effective leader. He is the most interesting char-
acter across all the series, for not only does he display the most traditional
characteristics of British lad culture (a zealous passion for alcohol, fighting
and women) he also encourages the most empathic emotional responses
from audiences. It is important to note that he also displays the traditional
characteristics of the urban gangster from American film (a boastful manner,
propensity for violence and emotional outbursts). While the series is quin-
tessentially British in its aesthetics and themes, it still draws on charac-
ter tropes formed in American cinema and Mafia mythology. As a gangster
archetype it is not hard to view Arthur as a mix of both Sonny and Fredo
Corleone from The Godfather, the brothers who exhibit rage, pride and loyalty,
but also emotional weakness and pathos. Arthur exhibits extreme violence
and extreme vulnerability in equal measure. Tommy may be argued as the
series’ romantic hero, but Arthur is the archetypal and exciting gangster.
Furthermore, Arthur’s swagger and delight in violence is only a mask, for he
has the greatest emotional range of all the characters. His relationship with
his father, Arthur Senior (Tommy Flanagan), and his marriage to Linda (Kate
Phillips), allow us to see his intense vulnerability and desire to be loved. It
is the nature of our acceptance of violent masculinity as an expression of a
damaged soul that we accept Arthur as not only the scariest character, but
also the one most deserving of sympathy.
In contrast, Tommy’s stalwart and stoical character encourages audience
acceptance, empathy and respect for different reasons. On one level he is the
more socially acceptable face of lad culture because he most often exercises
restraint, but he is still a champion of its cause. He is also a damaged soul who
is no longer able to express his feelings. In generic terms he is the sombre
and tragic hero that reminds us of Michael Corleone. His focus on business

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George S. Larke-Walsh

and the desire for his family to gain social status suggests that, like Michael,
Tommy lacks the emotional capacity for human connections. However, his
post-war world is not the same as Michael Corleone’s and thus, his experi-
ence as a war veteran and a working-class man dominate his world-view and
behaviours. His war neurosis is still strong, not only as dreams, but also in
his emotionless response to his family and the resentment he feels towards
wider society. Such resentment may be evidenced in Tommy’s act of throw-
ing his medals into ‘the cut’ (the canal) after the war. It as an act of rebellion
and disillusionment, but in the context of the narrative and Tommy’s behav-
iour, the act should also be viewed as a form of repression. It is evident that
Tommy’s war is buried inside him and he displays the fewest ‘weaknesses’ in
daily life, but his war experiences have influenced his character and his disil-
lusioned view of the world. Elaine Showalter’s work on hysterical epidem-
ics and modern culture suggests ‘war neurosis increased after the war partly
because of the resentment veterans felt towards the government that had
placed them in danger’ (1997: 74). Tommy’s neurosis can be found in his drive
for success, which is born from a desire to never again experience subjuga-
tion at the hands of those in power. He has no allegiance to any political
group; in fact he states: ‘I have no sympathies of any description’ (Season 1,
Episode 3). His loyalty extends only as far as those connected to him by
blood and marriage. Whilst firmly anti-establishment, he is also cynical about
the revolutionary aspirations of groups such as trade unions, suggesting he is
an individualist, or, some may argue, a libertarian. He believes in the author-
ity of the individual through freedom of choice in all matters. This allows for
constant contradictions in loyalty, for he will only follow it for his own ends.
Without an allegiance to any known cause, we cannot judge Tommy against
any established moral criteria and thus the narrative suggests he is truly a
‘free’ man.
Each character displays neuroses in different ways, which therefore
gives the illusion of a complex and multi-faceted view of masculine identity.
However, unfortunately, these are most often used to signify the strength of
character of an individual. Thus, while viewers may be encouraged to empa-
thize with Arthur’s emotional distress, it will remain at the level of pathos
for some. He may be loveable, but he is not a hero. Every attempt to garner
respect is suggested as a mask for his weaknesses. Tommy’s stoicism, the
masculine identity that most resembles traditional concepts of strength and
character, remains the heroic centre of the narrative. The most obvious reason
for this is the lingering nostalgia for imperial masculinity that pervades the
series and arguably still pervades western society to this day.

Nostalgia for nationalism

J. A. Mangan, in the work ‘Manufactured’ Masculinity: Making Imperial
Manliness, Morality and Militarism, notes how ‘the image of chivalry pene-
trated deeply into the fabric of late Victorian culture – and imperial heroes
were regularly compared to knights’ (2012: 302). Therefore, by the time of the
First World War, Thomas Carlyle’s concept of ‘self-sacrificing service’ to the
nation meant that ‘the national hero was now a warrior and a patriotic death
in battle was the finest masculine moral virtue’ (2012: 301). This is argued as
one of the main reasons (besides the political arguments for war) why so many
men volunteered to fight. They fought to prove they were men. Anything less
would suggest they were effeminate, weak and cowardly.

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 ‘The King’s shilling’

The current nostalgia for nationalism that pervades much of today’s politi-
cal and social discourse is a reassertion of ideological myths from history. In
the twenty-first century, nationalism is a comforting narrative, as Aurelian
Mondon argues in a CNN opinion piece:

As alternative and positive visions of globalization fail to take shape or

win over the public imagination, nationalist nostalgia has provided a
comforting narrative for some. People can reminisce and embellish their
fantasized memories of the good old days when ‘we’ felt at home, poli-
tics was not corrupt and politicians listened to us.
(2015)

Nationalism defines individual identity and it can be argued that the simpler,
more clearly defined concept of masculine identity supposedly yearned for by
some in the twenty-first century can be found in the myths of imperial mascu-
linity perpetuated in late Victorian culture. Research on imperial masculinity
reveals a myriad of collective pressures associated with masculine and national
identity. Kathy Phillips, in Manipulating Masculinity: War and Gender in Modern
British and American Literature, notes ‘both fiction and nonfiction participate
in elaborating and perpetuating artificial social constructs’ (2006: 5), such as
national identity and a man’s role. John Beynon, in Masculinities and Culture,
describes the nineteenth-century concept of ‘imperial man’ as based on empire
(colonialism, adventure) and embodied in physical culture (especially sport);
‘being English is not just physical strength and valour but also inner psycho-
logical toughness and self discipline’ (2002: 32). Many cultural texts, includ-
ing children’s literature and popular adventure stories of the time, focused on
rugged independence, action and adventure, discipline, toughness and hardi-
ness as the pinnacle of British male identity. In short, anything that denied
domesticity or femininity was considered a positive attribute. That male iden-
tity was promoted as the exact opposite to femininity meant, as Phillips argues,
men were, ‘placed in a constantly renewed insecurity about their status [and
had to] scramble to amass ‘proofs’ of masculinity’ (2006: 2). While the general
idea of imperial man has disappeared from British culture since the end of
empire, some of the characteristics remain and have found new vigour in lad
culture; significantly, ‘for lower economic men, physical combativeness has
always been and remains a major signifier of masculinity’ (Beynon 2002: 52).
When such a combative nature is taken to the level shown and celebrated in
Peaky Blinders then it is no longer just laddish, but toxic in its intensity.
The post-First World War period is the perfect social environment for
a series obsessed with issues of class, masculinity and violence. It is a time
of disillusionment where the notion of imperial masculinity is said to have
died and where the performance of masculinity from the Shelby clan can be
contextualized as a complex reaction to their experiences as working-class
pawns (cannon fodder) in the Great War. The series is able to distance itself
from the basic Victorian framework of imperial masculinity while still able to
use it as a marker of masculine strength and national identity for this time it is
valued as rebellion rather than state sanctioned propaganda. Much emphasis
can be found in the narrative of individual bravery, loyalty to comrades and
disdain for political leaders. Unlike Karner’s discussion of the toxic masculinity
of Vietnam veterans, Tommy’s performance as a hero is based on a nostalgia
for the principles of imperial masculinity that encouraged him to volunteer for
war, but instead of feeling invalidated by the post-war reassessment of such

www.intellectbooks.com   49
George S. Larke-Walsh

2. It may be argued that values, he has realigned them to signify a sense of self-worth and rebellious
the scenes of Tommy
playing golf in Season
purpose. Whereas Karner argues Vietnam veterans desperately sought valida-
4 are thinly veiled tion from wider society, Tommy could not care less for such support. His toxic
allusions to Donald masculinity is a belief in his own ability to be as callous and self-serving as
Trump.
any other powerful group. His performance of imperial masculinity is not a
blind belief in it as a political stance (for the good of the nation), but a belief
in its principles for the good of the individual, principally himself and his clan.
His nostalgia for nationalism is specific to his individual romanticized view of
England and the English.
The Shelbys’ class identity is forged within the industrial landscape of
Small Heath, Birmingham, but their ethnic heritage includes a romanticized
connection to the rural gypsy. Both identities are continually used in the series
to promote their marginalized position in society. They are representatives of
the working poor trapped in a hellish industrial environment, but they are
also representative of an ancient community who exist on the borders of soci-
ety, free to roam the intricate waterways and lanes of new and old England;
an identity separate from modern society, but with a traceable and valuable
bloodline. In reality, Romany are a distinct cultural group, but as a roman-
tic concept the gypsy has long reflected an Englishness that yearns for ‘self-
definition that returns to the countryside for its validation’ (Houghton-Walker
2014: 37). The character of the gypsy appears in British literature, specifically
of the Romantic period, as a figure that reflects the rural heart of England,
unconfined by industrialism, laws and domesticity. Consequently, the Shelbys’
dual identity not only allows them to be working-class heroes, but also
connects them to a romanticized and pure national identity pre-modernity
and seemingly untainted by multicultural influences. Throughout the series
the gypsies, boatmen and tinkers are presented as extended family. When the
Shelby family fights, they fight to preserve this romanticized heritage.
Tommy may be a war veteran, and he may be cynical about the political
machinations of government, but his beliefs and his character are emblematic
of the same nationalist propaganda used to get men to fight. His desire is to
expand the Shelby business, initially to colonize every racecourse in the United
Kingdom, is a desire to spread his influence as wide as possible. By the end of
Season 4 he has entered politics and the connections between the series and
the present day political environment give evidence that Tommy’s beliefs and
loyalties are built on a generalized idea of ethnic purity through blood and
marriage ties (the boatmen, tinker and gypsy community).2 His prejudices are
towards foreigners – the Irish Republicans and Protestants beyond the tinker
community, the Italians, the Jews, Russians and later Italian Americans. In fact,
Tommy uses his own propaganda to get his men to fight for him whenever
necessary. He manipulates their attachment to the loyalties forged in war of
class, ethnicity and gender. His abuse of ‘the King’s shilling’ is a prime exam-
ple. When Arthur questions the need to keep killing (because of the damage it
does to his already fragile psyche) Tommy uses the fact that Arthur has already
taken the shilling and therefore promised to do his duty for king and country
stating: ‘What difference does it make? Your loyalty is now to family’ (Season
3, Episode 1). Similarly, men throughout the Victorian period were informed,
and it is specific and formidable – ‘fight and you are a man’ (Phillips 2006: 8),
implying that duty, strength and discipline are all you need. Tommy’s disdain
for Linda’s influence on Arthur is an example of the same propaganda, the
inference being that she weakens his manhood and thus makes him less loyal
to Tommy’s campaign. While presented in opposition to the establishment,

50   Journal of Popular Television

 ‘The King’s shilling’

Tommy utilizes the same nostalgic nationalist propaganda for his own ends.
As such he is a populist hero and representation of ideal masculinity, admired
by both men and women.

The potential for ‘good’ women to repair ‘bad’ men

Arthur is an embodiment of masculine identity as a constant contradiction
and stuck within the forced and socially constructed idea that manliness is
anti-feminine. Kathy Phillips’ summary of the reasons men fight is as appro-
priate now as it was to the Edwardian era:

I fight to prove I am not my sister (but I suspect I am)

I fight to prove I am not attracted to men (but I do want to see male bodies)
I fight to prove I am not emotional (but I do love my comrades)
I fight to protect my sister (but I hate my sister so as not to be her).
(2006: 16)

While all of these are achieved with only minor lapses for Tommy, Arthur’s
turmoil is much more evident. His love and belief in his father causes him
to be duped and humiliated by him, and his desire to prove that he is a man
leads him to beat men/boys to death in bare-knuckle fights. Arthur’s desire to
prove that he is a man also leads him to have sex with every woman he can
find (yet such sexual promiscuity was seen as a weakness in imperial mascu-
linity). His lack of self-confidence, bouts of depression and tears make him
believe that he is less of a man, an identity crisis that leads him to seek death,
both in a suicide attempt and in various violent showdowns. His aggressive
language and exaggerated swagger are there to counteract his inner fears.
Arthur’s connection to Linda (Kate Phillips) in Season 3 and beyond is the
closest he gets to peace and self-confidence, but this attachment to feminin-
ity and domesticity fills him with inner doubt. It is this doubt that Tommy
constantly uses to both undermine Linda’s influence and encourage Arthur to
continue the violence in service to the family business.
Before Linda arrives to save him, Arthur embodied the self-destructive
nature of toxic masculinity in the desperate and ultimately defeatist desire to
combat all feminine aspects of his personality. So, whilst he is arguably the
most grotesque expression of toxic masculinity, he is also the most vulner-
able. Throughout the series we see Arthur fight against his femininity through
exaggerated assertions of manliness, as outlined above. James Gilligan’s work
on violence eloquently notes how ‘the most dangerous men on earth are
those who are afraid that they are wimps’ (2000: 66). Audiences are encour-
aged to believe that Arthur is the weaker and most toxic character because of
his propensity for uncontrolled violent behaviour, but he is also the one most
able to move on from that position and to be healed. His swagger and curs-
ing, his idealization of the war and comradeship, and his violent behaviour,
are all just masks that assert a learned notion of what it means to be a man.
It is Tommy who insists Arthur stays attached to violence in order to act as
his henchman. Arthur is, as Aunt Polly (Helen McCrory) states with distaste,
Tommy’s ‘mad dog’ (Season 2). However, he does possess the ability to move
beyond violence if he is given the chance. As a pop culture figure, Arthur is
representative of lad culture as a noisy, offensive and violent bravado, but one
that has the potential to be calmed by patient and understanding domesticity.

www.intellectbooks.com   51
George S. Larke-Walsh

In every season the narrative focuses on ‘good’ women as a source of

psychological comfort for the male characters. For Arthur it is the understand-
ing that tenderness soothes his fractured psyche and helps him to control his
rage. For John (Joe Cole) it is the need for a mother for his children and his
own sense of belonging in a family unit. For Tommy it is the understanding
that emotions cannot be completely obliterated from life’s experiences, such
as is shown by his love for Grace and at the moment that he thinks he is to
die at the end of Season 2. The male characters all have the potential to love,
but it’s not necessary for them to do so in order to remain attractive. They
need each other, but they also need women, not just sexually, but as a form
of comfort and validation. We are reminded in Season 4, Episode 3 that with-
out his Aunt Polly, Tommy falls apart. John’s respect for Esme (Aimee-Ffion
Edwards) is unquestioned and, while Tommy feels threatened by Linda’s pres-
ence, she manages to tame Arthur and allows him to express the calmer, more
romantic elements of his fractured identity.
Expressions of emotion humanize the brothers and provide a much-
needed counterbalance to their callous behaviour. While their love for each
other is evident and shown through teasing, drinking and shared violence, it
is their connections to strong women that extends their emotional range and
arguably encourages broader audience allegiances. In their role as enablers the
women help to bolster audience sympathies for male characters by highlight-
ing both the men’s vulnerabilities and the contradictions at the heart of their
assertions of masculinity. As shown in Phillips’ list of reasons men fight, they
fight to show they are not women, and they have no need for domesticity,
or emotions. However, they also fight to protect women, domesticity and the
potential for emotions. This innate and unsolvable contradiction is just one of
the reasons why Polly, Ada (Sophie Runder), Esme, Lizzy (Natasha O’Keefe)
and Linda hold so much power in a narrative that is essentially obsessed with
displays of misogynistic masculinity.
Another perhaps just as fundamental reason for the incorporation of
strong female characters in the series is simply that without the women, the
men’s only strong emotional attachments would be to each other. Male to
male desire is the ambiguous arena that both lad culture and celebrations
of imperial masculinity are at pains to avoid. All of the male Peaky Blinders
are as sexually attractive to men as women, but as the gangster genre in the
United Kingdom has tended to avoid any explicit references to homosexual-
ity in recent decades, the narrative is at pains to assert the heteronormativity
of all its characters. Moments of slippage occur when the aesthetics indulge
in images of Cillian Murphy’s naked body, slow motion montages of male
groups on display at work and at play, as well as a focus on the elegances of
their attire. There is no doubt that all audiences are meant to find the charac-
ters visually attractive. However, it is a feature of regressive masculinity that
homosexuality must be denied. It is not surprising in this context that sex is
mostly shown as a base, or aggressive act in Peaky Blinders, as if it is another
over-anxious assertion of heterosexuality and masculine dominance. The
exaggerated nature and celebration of male violence and sexual conquest is at
the heart of the series as a display of toxic masculinity.
As stated earlier, it is difficult to tell if the series is intentionally celebrating
the Shelby brothers as populist heroes, but their toxic masculinity is definitely
as disturbing as it is attractive. However, audience concerns are distracted by
the ways the anxious assertion of masculine ideals tip over into parody on
many occasions. Some of the finest moments across the series occur in the

52   Journal of Popular Television

 ‘The King’s shilling’

moments individual women undermine the men’s dominance. Polly remains

steadfast in her assertion that men are weak, for they are at the mercy of
their sexual drive and need to dominate. Ada remains aloof and refuses to
align herself with the bullying and exploitative ideals of the family business.
Lizzie is badly treated, but finally makes Tommy give her the respect she
deserves. Linda appears to tame Arthur using the bible, but her hold over
him is not simplistically manipulative as she sees Arthur as a whole person
and is not frightened of his rage. Every series involves key scenes where the
women identify, mock and undermine the men’s overzealous assertions of
masculine authority.
In short, all the women are shown to understand toxic masculinity better
than the men who possess it and are therefore able to work with, or around
them rather than being solely at their mercy. However, the women’s mocking
is most often played for humour and in consequence the men’s base behav-
iour is further validated. For instance, the women often berate the men for
being ‘led by their cocks’, but this not only encourages an audience to laugh
at how easily these men can be led by women it also identifies a women’s
main purpose in the narrative. Similarly, in Season 1, Episode 1 when Aunt
Polly threatens John for leaving a gun within reach of young Finn the menace
of her attack dissolves into humour when she states that Finn ‘nearly blew
Ada’s tits off’. Hence, her moment of dominance is not a sign she expects a
change in behaviour; it is simply a moment that shows her awareness and
acceptance of the limits of these men. The women’s acceptance makes it easier
for audiences to also accept and forgive the men’s misogyny and brutality as
the playful ignorance of lad culture. In consequence, while it can be argued
that these strong women are fully rounded characters with their own narrative
developments, in essence, they are mainly used by the narrative to celebrate
toxic masculinity by reducing male destructive actions to the level of ‘boys will
be boys’ playful humour.

Conclusions
Peaky Blinders uses the First World War as a justification and a celebration of
toxic masculinity, for it not only argues why it exists, but it also validates it as
a necessary set of skills to succeed. The series celebrates nationalist ideolo-
gies by championing the Shelby family as romantic outlaws with a romanti-
cized English heritage. Their oppression of others is a by-product of behaviour
deemed necessary to succeed in a corrupt world. In other words, the series
suggests the Shelbys did not create the rules of the game; they are simply
using the rules they have learnt to their own advantage. It must be argued that
any suggestion the Shelbys are working-class heroes, or marginalized outsid-
ers, are distractions from the main thrust of the narrative that champions them
as self-serving individualists. The series, like so many examples of cultural and
political discourse, stresses the normalcy of male violence and the celebration
of those who are strong enough to fight their way to supremacy. By focusing
on the two brothers, Tommy and Arthur, we are shown the destructive force
of toxic masculinity, but also its strengths as a feature of heroic leadership. It is
evident that Arthur is representative of toxic masculinity as a destructive force,
but he is just a distraction from Tommy as the most attractive, powerful and
thus potentially scarier example of toxic masculinity as heroism.
Tommy is the self-assured, unrepentant champion of all those elements
found in imperial, retributive, toxic masculinity and even lad culture that keep

www.intellectbooks.com   53
George S. Larke-Walsh

reasserting themselves as supposedly valuable and necessary features of hero-

ism for our time. Tommy’s reactionary attitude to peacetime living is at the
heart of the narrative and is the most toxic display of masculine ideals. Tommy
continually works to keep the war alive, for it is an arena that has taught him
how to win. He is a version of the war hero who cannot readjust to civil-
ian life. Leed suggested ‘the encounter with the home, paradoxically enough,
could lead to a counter-idealization of the war that had just been fought, to
an idealization of “comradeship”, military life and the “simplicities of war”’
(1979: 189). The series uses this aspect of war neurosis, mixed with the myths
of courage and loyalty, to create a hero who is deaf to the pleas of state, or
social justice. It is Tommy who reveals the falsity of the series as an explora-
tion of class war, or a brave fight against adversity. He is not at the mercy of
the surrounding environment so much as he is an agitator who keeps the
fight going; the least able to ‘move on from war’, he throws away his medals
but refuses to re-enter domestic life. Instead he clings to the comradeship and
regularities of military life in order to maintain his position as the leader of
men. Tommy is stuck in nostalgia for imperial masculinity, and it is his actions
that continue the trauma for everyone else. He is a man who stands for noth-
ing except the desire to succeed and hold power. Each time he wins it is a
further validation of his beliefs and actions. It is an image of masculinity that
should be appalling to audiences and yet they are encouraged to applaud it,
for it is validated by a belief of it as a reaction to a corrupt society, and thus a
heroic and necessary strength that works in favour of the common man.
The Shelbys are presented as working-class heroes and images of margin-
alized national identities. Their attachment to strong women exaggerates their
attractiveness and further validates their social position. Audiences are invited
to celebrate their audacious behaviour, admire their acquisition of wealth and
desire their bravery. All of these elements are common tropes in the gangster
genre. However, the attractiveness of such gangsters is rooted in the idea that
they live in a separate world to the rest of us, a world where real people are
not threatened by their actions. The aesthetic splendours and violent horrors
of Peaky Blinders reminds audiences that the boundaries between history and
present day, and between fiction and fact, are not as fixed as they may like
them to be, in ways both attractive and frightening.

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www.intellectbooks.com    55
George S. Larke-Walsh

Television Programmes
Ice Road Truckers (2007–present, USA: History Channel).
Oil, Sweat and Rigs (2006–07, USA: Discovery Channel).
Peaky Blinders (2013–present, UK: BBC).
‘1:3’ (Season 1, Episode 3; 26 September 2013).
‘1:1’ (Season 2, Episode 1; 2 October 2014).
‘3:1’ (Season 3, Episode 1; 5 May 2016).
‘Heathens’ (Season 4, Episode 2; 22 November 2017).
‘Blackbird’ (Season 4, Episode 3; 29 November 2017).
‘Dangerous’ (Season 4, Episode 4; 6 December 2017).
The Sopranos (1999–2007, USA: HBO).
Trawlermen (2006–09, UK: BBC).

Suggested citation
Larke-Walsh, G. S. (2019), ‘‘The King’s shilling’: How Peaky Blinders uses the
experience of war to justify and celebrate toxic masculinity’, Journal of
Popular Television, 7:1, pp. 39–56, doi: 10.1386/jptv.7.1.39_1

Contributor details
George S. Larke-Walsh Ph.D. is an assistant professor in the Media Arts
Department at the University of North Texas. Current scholarly projects are
focused on documentary history and theory as well as the gangster genre in
international cinema and television. Her publishing history includes articles
on authorship and performativity in documentary as well as various articles
and a book on the representation of the Mafia in Hollywood.
Contact: Department of Media Arts, University of North Texas, 1155 Union
Circle, #310589, Denton, TX76203, USA.
E-mail: george.larke-walsh@unt.edu

George S. Larke-Walsh has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs
and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work in the format
that was submitted to Intellect Ltd.

56   Journal of Popular Television

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