The Price of Power

A visual analysis using the character Walter White from Breaking Bad (2008) to show the corrupting influence of power.

Breaking Bad (2008), directed by Vince Gilligan, is a gripping crime drama that follows the story of high school chemistry teacher Walter White as he transforms from a loving family man into a ruthless drug kingpin. Living in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Walter is an intelligent but financially struggling man working two jobs to make ends meet, whose life takes a sharp turn when he is diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. Determined to secure his family’s future, he decides to cook methamphetamine with the help of a former student of his to help his family financially for once he’s gone. Yet, as he dives deeper into the drug world, however, his motivations change as he gains status, shifting from financial need to ego-driven ambition. He begins to act less out of necessity and more out of ego, continuing what he does long after becoming financially set for life. He becomes obsessed with recognition and control, something that leads him to commit horrendous crimes that he previously would’ve never even thought of, and it is how he ultimately becomes a ruthless drug lord. His journey also explores the psychological transformation of a man under pressure, showing how desperation can corrupt people morally when pride and ambition take hold of people. Through Walter White, Breaking Bad critiques the destructive nature of pride and the corrupting influence of power, using his transformation to portray how ambition and ego can destroy one’s morality. At the beginning of the series, Walter’s actions seemed pretty selfless and altruistic. He was in a tough position, working two jobs, supporting a pregnant wife and a disabled son, all while facing a recent cancer diagnosis. There was no way his family would have survived on their own, so he turned to cooking meth out of desperation for them, for once he was gone. However, even in these early moments, you could already see hints of Walter’s pride affecting his behavior. When he meets Jesse Pinkman, a former student of his who failed his chemistry class, he threatens to call the cops and tell them about a crime he committed if he does not help him sell drugs, telling Jesse, “Either that, or I turn you in” (“Pilot,” 00:29:55-00:30:00) after he refused to help him. This interaction is one of the first times that shows Walter beginning to take control of situations. It is an early sign of the changes in his behavior. Furthermore, when Jesse suggested that they cook meth, Walter initially refused. At the surface level, it can be seen as him doing so for moral reasons, but the deeper reason for why he really did so was control. Walter disliked the idea of a student who had failed his class giving him suggestions; he wanted complete control of the process and wanted to keep Jesse only for his connections in the drug world, as Walter knew very little at this point in the story. These early moments mark the beginning of his transformation, revealing how his motivation gradually shifts from providing for his family to fulfilling his own desires for power and recognition. As the series progresses, it becomes increasingly clear that Walter’s ego has begun to take complete control of him, and even he starts to recognize it. In the fifth episode of the first season, “Gray Matter”, Walter meets with a wealthy former colleague of his who goes by Gretchen. During their meeting, Gretchen offered to help pay for Walter’s cancer treatment after hearing that his insurance wasn’t covering it. Despite it being a golden opportunity for him, he refused out of pride, even going so far as to lie to her saying “The insurance came through after all, so uh, I am covered” (“Gray Matter,” 00:45:42-00:45:48). It becomes very clear that at this point in the show Walter’s decisions are no longer about doing what is best for his family; instead, his pride and desire for control are taking control of him making him do things he wouldn’t do before. Furthermore, when Gretchen figures out that Walter lied and his cancer wasn’t covered the whole time, she realizes something fishy was going on and she confronts him, telling him that whatever he was doing wasn’t the Walter she knew. Walter lashes out in return, telling her, “What would you know about me, Gretchen? What would your presumption about me be exactly, that I should go begging for your charity?” (“Peekabo,” 00:32:01-00:32:13). These scenes are quite vital as they show how fragile Walter’s ego has become. He interprets the gift that Gretchen is trying to give him as pity and refuses to take it to help his family; rather, he continues to cook meth, choosing an illegal and dangerous method of making money over honest help to assert dominance and control. It’s the part of his moral decline where he starts to prioritize his pride over his family. During the later seasons, Walter’s need for control becomes an obsession. In the “Crawl Space” episode, an emergency sends Walter rushing to his house to get his money, only to find that it’s missing. Skyler comes to check on him after receiving an anonymous, threatening phone call, and Walter immediately cuts her off to ask where his money went, where she hesitantly tells him she gave it to Ted Beneke, a former colleague and lover of Skyler. Walt reacts with a blend of hysteria and maniacal laughter. The scene intensifies with uncanny music and a pounding heart, and a phone call from Marie about the cartel threatening to off Hank, it all adds to the panic of the scene and Walt’s loss of control (Season 4, Episode 11, 00:42:48-00:46:10). This scene shows Walter’s ego and obsession with control have consumed him completely. Walter's reaction is not caused out of fear or sorrow, but by madness. A breakdown caused by realizing that his control and power are slowly slipping away. The money symbolizes not just his financial well-being, but Walter’s ego and his belief that he could control everything. By taking it away, Skyler accidentally destroys that illusion. This scene also represents what is happening with Walter deep within: the more control he seeks, the less he really has. His ego becomes a cage, showing the self-destructive nature of his ego. This scene shows the collapse of Walter's identity, showing that the price of power, motivated by ego, eventually led to his downfall. Some people might argue that Walter’s actions were mainly motivated by necessity and concern for his family rather than ego. For example, in early episodes, Walter begins to cook meth immediately after learning about his cancer, indirectly saying that he needs to provide for his family after he dies. This could imply that his descent into crime is mainly motivated by his desperation rather than ego. Additionally, he often shows fear about leaving his family with nothing, such as when he calculates the amount of money they will need to survive, showing his concern for their future (Season 2, Episode 1, 00:04:30-00:05:48). However, It's important to note that while necessity was Walter’s initial motive, the series makes it clear that this motive changes over time. His refusal of help when Gretchen’s offer to pay for treatment, his hysterical laugh when he finds that Skyler gave it all to Ted, and his confession in the finale that he did it all for himself all demonstrate his pride and desire for control led to his downfall. These moments reveal that Walter did things for his ego, not for his family. By the series finale, “Felina,” Walter can no longer justify his actions as being for the family. With an ongoing nationwide manhunt, he knew it was over, so he went to Skyler to speak to her one last time to tell her why he did all the things he did. Fed up with him saying that it was for the family, Skyler angrily interrupts, “If I have to hear one more time that you did this for the family”, to which Walter replied “I did it for me. I liked it. I was good at it. And I was really… alive” (“Felina,” 00:33:28). There was no more hiding it; Walter fully transformed into a monster, and he recognized it, and admitted it. He exposed what his motivations truly were at the end and stopped masking them with the pretense that he was doing it for the family, finally admitting that they were for himself. Through this scene, Vince Gilligan delivers the final message of the show with Walter: the pursuit of power, driven by pride and ego, corrupts people, turning the most noble of us into horrendous monsters. Through Breaking Bad, Vince Gilligan tells the story of a man’s ego and its corrupting influence. He illustrates how even the most seemingly innocent individuals can transform into monsters because of their pride when given power. What began as a desperate attempt by Walter White to provide for his struggling family transformed into an obsession that destroyed his morality and humanity. Through his journey, Breaking Bad warns us of how pride and ambition can ruin someone’s sense of right and wrong for power. From refusing Gretchen’s offer to help to his manic breakdown after discovering that Skyler gave all his money to Ted, it’s all driven by his ego that blinded him to what truly mattered. By the time he confesses to Skyler that he “liked it” in the final episode, Walter fully admits that all of his actions were for himself, and not his family. At last, Breaking Bad serves as a story about the devastating cost of pride and the pursuit of power, showing how ego can corrupt the most ordinary of people, destroying their morality and humanity.

Discussion Director Questions:

1. Tran describes seeing the new Vietnamese student at his school as looking into a “fun-house mirror’s rippling reflection,” an “alternate reality” he didn’t want to be. How do you think this view of the new student sets up the problems he has later, such as the “punk” version of himself?

2. Do you believe Tran’s “war for assimilation” (where he changes himself to look more like a punk to fit in) is something Tran truly wants to do, or do you believe it’s something he doesn’t believe in and just does to “survive”?

3. In the prologue, Tran begins by saying, “Fuck that kid. That’s what I thought when I first saw Hoang Nguy.” This aggressive opening immediately establishes the tone of the memoir. How do you think Tran insulting another Vietnamese kid, who reflects himself, affects his identity and actions later in the book?

4. In the first few pages of the first chapter, Tran debates how his name should be said in English. His father settles with “Fook,” and Tran says, “Fook was out there. In the real world. In America.” How does this moment split Tran’s identity and create tensions later on with his different “operations”?

Chapter 3 (Scarlet Letter): This chapter focuses on Tran’s elementary school years and begins with a classmate calling him a racial slur, which leads Tran to punch him and get in trouble with his teacher, Mrs. Boose. When he returns home, Tran is brutally beaten by his father with a metal rod, leaving him unable to sit properly the next day at school. After noticing signs of abuse, Mrs. Boose visits Tran’s home and intervenes, which ultimately puts an end to the physical beatings.

Chapter 4 (A Christmas Carol): After stopping physical punishment, Tran’s father shifts to psychological punishment. In one scene, he pretends to abandon Tran’s brother on the side of the road to frighten him. Later in the chapter, Tran’s great-grandmother tragically dies in a fire, deeply affecting Tran. He also claims to see her ghost in the hallway, an image that continues to haunt him.

Chapter 5 (Man and His Symbols): This chapter explores the idea of being seen as a symbol rather than an individual. Tran reflects on Vietnam War veterans and how he becomes a symbol of a painful and confusing war. His parents stage another abandonment by packing their suitcases and pretending to leave permanently, forcing Tran to temporarily care for his brother. The chapter also includes the death of Tran’s uncle and a moment where Tran briefly changes his name to “Peter,” only to switch back after being mocked, reinforcing the idea that changing his name cannot change how society sees him.

For most of my life, English has always been the class where I felt the most out of place. Growing up as an immigrant, I learned early that language was something you were judged by, something that could reveal how “different” you truly are before people even get to know you. At the same time, I gravitated towards the STEM subjects where problems had exact defined rules, no language blocks, where answers could be solved rather than interpreted, and where I never felt like I was missing something like a “social grammar” everyone else magically spoke fluently. Due to that, English and specific writing often felt like trying to enter a house built for voices far louder and more confident than mine. No matter how many times I knocked, the door never seemed to open the same for me, as if the language itself recognized its guests and I was never quite one of the people greeted with the utmost respect. But this semester has completely altered this assumption in ways I didn’t expect. As English has never felt like a natural home for me, shaped by my immigrant background, my relationship with the language, and my tendency towards STEM, I have begun to understand writing as more than a subject I struggled through. I am beginning to see writing as a space where the house of English no longer watches me from behind its windows, where I am no longer stranded on the porch, but finally confident enough to greet the language at its doorway with a firm, assured handshake.

As a reader, I entered this class by efficiency rather than reflection. In STEM, reading has always been functional and exact. I read to extract information, to derive a formula, or to frame the problems. Literature however asked for something else completely. It asks me to sit with uncertainty and interpretation, to read between the lines and to consider different perspectives, and identity rather than just logic. At first, this felt very frustrating. As I often sought a single correct answer, only to find out that meaning in text was layered, subjective, and composite. Reading memoirs like Sigh, Gone made me recognize that understanding a text was not just understanding the book, but actually closely scrutinizing multiple meanings the author may have intended. Over this semester, I became more comfortable engaging with this ambiguity that I didn't feel before, and to consider the author’s background to further understand narratives beyond my own tunneled perspective. This shift has changed the way I see reading itself. Instead of viewing it as instructions, or absolute, I began to understand reading as a conversation, one that requires patience, motivation and multiple perspectives.

As a writer, my relationship with English has always been shaped by hesitancy rather than confidence . Writing had felt sluggish, and vulnerable, especially when compared to STEM subjects where accuracy is clear and distinct. Yet in English, every sentence felt permanent, almost as if it revealed my fluency in the subject, or my personal background. Due to this, I approached writing more defensively and I focused more on avoiding errors instead of developing ideas. This class pushed me to move past that and to emphasize tone and clarity rather than perfection. By drafting and revising my essays, I began to see writing as a process rather than a final performance. Writing had no longer felt like something I had to endure through, but something unique I could create. This shift helped me gain more confidence in my voice even when it's still unfamiliar. I am beginning to trust that my perspective has meaningful value and that clarity could come through effort rather than instinct.

As an individual pursuing knowledge and scholarly pursuits, I have come to realize through this course, learning is not simply absorbing information; however, learning involves being part of broader discussions and adding insightful and meaningful contributions. I have previously perceived academics as a pursuit reserved for the confident. As I begin to delve further into my own academia I now view this field differently. My participation with the memoir (or the discussion posts) and the academic writings we have engaged with throughout the course, I have realized academia is not limited to individuals who can express themselves loudly, or fluently, but to those who will take the time to research their ideas and present them well to the best of their ability, regardless of how they may feel about their work. Even though I felt uncertain about my voice at times, I came to learn that the process of thoughtful reasoning and engagement were more important than perfect fluency and polish. Through this realization, I have developed a new way of understanding and perceiving academia as a practice vs. performance. The practice of academia places a greater emphasis on persistence and the ability to continue thinking when you lack confidence.

Looking back, my growth this semester has not come from suddenly becoming fluent or fearless in English, but from learning how to remain present even when you're uncomfortable. As a reader, I learned to slow down and sit with ambiguity rather than seek for a single correct answer. As a writer, I began to move past the hesitation and trust that clarity could be built through effort, revision and intention. As a scholar I learned that participation matters way more than polish, and the ideas that are truly meaningful come from engagement, not perfection. English may have had its differences with me, but it's no longer dissimilar. The house I once stood outside now feels familiar, not because it changed, but because I learned to enter it with manners. What once felt like an unwelcoming space has now become one I can enter with confidence, ready to contribute and learn within it.