Spoiler Alert - Celebrity Traitors

This blog contains spoilers. If you haven't seen the final of celebrity Traitors and you don't want to know how it ended, don't open this blog.

This blog contains spoilers. If you haven't seen the final of celebrity Traitors and you don't want to know how it ended, don't open this blog.

This blog contains spoilers. If you haven't seen the final of celebrity Traitors and you don't want to know how it ended, don't open this blog.

Hannah Arendt would likely see Alan Carr’s win, by deceiving his co-contestants as a “Traitor”, as an illustration of the collapse of the shared world of trust and speech. In her view, ethical and political life depends on people speaking truthfully, acting in public, and owning their deeds. When the game rewards successful deception, it signals a norm where strategic lying becomes a form of action, but one that undermines the public realm Arendt prized. The victory is clever, but from her vantage the question remains: has the game restored anything meaningful in the world of human responsibility?

Michel Foucault would interpret the show as a microcosm of power and surveillance. Carr’s manoeuvres—remaining undetected, manipulating alliances, controlling the reveal—mirror how institutions work behind the scenes: not by brute force, but by control of information, shifting identities, and hidden codes. His win highlights that power is exercised through rules and procedures that participants must navigate or exploit. Foucault would ask: when winning means mastering deception, what does that tell us about the structures that govern even our entertainment?

For John Stuart Mill, the outcome prompts a question of overall good and fair conduct. Carr’s win benefits charity (the prize money goes to Neuroblastoma UK) which is positive. But Mill would probe whether the means align with principles of transparency, honesty and equal treatment. Does a game based on betrayal and concealment promote the greatest good for the greatest number, or does it normalise deception and mistrust as a social value? The charity win is commendable, yet the moral cost of the victory remains open to question.

John Dewey would focus on the game as an educational experience in social relations and moral reflection. Carr’s win is like a case study: what was learned, and what was reinforced? Dewey would ask whether the show prompts contestants and viewers to reflect on cooperation, trust and the consequences of deceit, or simply rewards strategy with little moral reckoning. If the latter, then the show may entertain but fails to deepen our capacity for ethical action and shared purpose.

In short, Carr’s win is more than television drama; it raises philosophical questions about truth, power, responsibility and the values we entertain. It invites us to ask: when deception is celebrated as skill, what happens to our view of trust and community?