I’ve been watching FX’s remake of Shōgun, and I’m struck how it’s a drama about the struggle over power left in the absence of a neat process of inheritance, much like Succession. The difference in the two shows, however, is in the presence of the father (whether literal or symbolic) for whose support and blessing various heirs fight. In Succession, so much of the action was directed by the commanding presence of Logan Roy. In Shōgun, the now-deceased Taikō is largely experienced through the insufficient stature of his child son, who will inherit the position of ruler if he can survive till adulthood (and the plot, then, largely revolves around attempts to take control while he is still young).

In legal studies, people talk about the “dead hand,” the ability for the now-deceased to control the distribution and use of their property after their death. Whereas the law discusses this as a matter of procedure, these shows represent it as a matter of presence, performance, and conviction. Rather than the bounds of statute or doctrine, we have the audacity of someone like Logan Roy. Think of all the times someone in the show told him he wasn’t allowed to do something and were met with little more than a “Fuck off.” So too in Shōgun, Ishido’s plot to take control and oust Toranaga is illegal in the sense that it contravenes the wishes of the deceased Taikō. But if he can get away with it, he becomes the one who establishes the rules, so really, who cares?

In novels, many inheritance plots don’t rely on this same if-you-can-get away-with-it brazenness. While there is often a scheme to obscure a will or an heir, they rely on tricks and secrecy rather than the kind of open hostility and force of will displayed by Logan Roy. Novels of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries have their share of Ahabs, but he rarely appears in inheritance plots. The will—as piece of paper rather than indomitable force—still held ultimate sway, able to unseat even the most powerful false heir. One need merely produce the will, and it set the world right. There’s probably a medium argument to be made about the will’s compelling nature as authoritative text in a textual medium, whereas character’s audacity would lend itself to a performance-based medium like television. But that wouldn’t explain why people don’t really write inheritance plots anymore. They seem archaic.

Today, we rely on the strongman who can bend the rules to his will, rather than follow the letter of someone else’s. In 1851, Ahab figured himself as undead spouse of a “widow with her husband alive,” his ability to bequeath nothing was indicative of his indomitable will. Today, our Ahabs attempt to rule from the afterlife by leaving everything behind and deciding who gets it. We render these compelling performances on the screen because I think we all know that these undead hands continue to govern the world only partly through legal means. In addition to the law, the dead hand now compells by the very virtuousity of his ability to get someone, anyone, everyone to go along with whatsoever he devises.