He’s the hero America needs, but not the one we deserve. I’m talking, of course, about Hank Hill.
If politics really is downstream from culture, then America took one small step in the right direction last week, when Hulu dropped Season 15 of “King of the Hill.” The animated series features straight-laced propane salesman Hank Hill, who lives with his wife, Peggy, and (in the original run) their son, Bobby, in fictional Arlen, Texas. The series aired on Fox from 1997 to 2009 and, after a long hiatus, returned with Season 14 last year.
The show, created by Mike Judge, is not explicitly about politics. Sure, there are a few (mostly favorable) references to Ronald Reagan. In Season 5, Hank’s neighbor Bill dates former Texas Gov. Ann Richards, and Hank discovers George W. Bush has a weak handshake. The following season, Hank helps Jimmy Carter build a house for Habitat for Humanity. But these moments are the exception, not the rule. Judge is definitely not Norman Lear; heck, he isn’t even Trey Parker or Matt Stone of “South Park.” Episodes of “King” aren’t seeking to score political points, and the show is in no way didactic or preachy.
And yet, having watched hundreds of hours of “King” over the years, I am convinced that it has something profound to say about conservatism. Hank — whom the show is simultaneously satirizing and deeply sympathetic to — is essentially a small-town conservative. He’s a product of his time, place and cultural mores — someone who played football in high school, loves to grill burgers and barbecue, and cares way too much about the condition of his lawn. He is also neither racist nor sexist; he is skeptical of fanaticism; and he is devoted to kindness. And — this is key — he is sometimes willing to change his mind.
In other words, while “King of the Hill” predates Donald Trump’s political career by nearly two decades, and while the show has never mentioned him (at least not yet), Hank is very much a roadmap to a better conservatism than the one we currently have.
The reasonable, small-c conservatism was there from the very start. In the series pilot, Hank is investigated by a young, ambitious, out-of-state social worker who thinks Hank is abusing Bobby. Chastened, Hank becomes overly permissive, allowing Bobby to behave like a spoiled brat. Luckily, a wise old social worker intervenes to clear Hank’s name, exercising judgment, experience as a citizen in the community and a dose of common sense.
Big-government zealotry gets mocked in that episode, but the show doesn’t look favorably on conservative fanaticism either. Long before Trump came down the escalator, a running theme of the series was that Hank’s decency put him at odds with right-wing culture.
In one of my favorite episodes (“Reborn to Be Wild,” 2003), Hank fears Bobby is falling prey to bad pop-culture influences, so he pushes him toward joining a Christian youth group. Except these kids turn out to be tattooed and pierced skaters — for Jesus! — and their gung-ho Christianity starts becoming its own kind of bad influence. Eventually, Hank steps in to put a stop to it. “You’re not making Christianity better,” he tells one young Christian rocker. “You’re making rock worse.”
But the episode doesn’t end with what some believers might interpret as a cheap shot. The Christian rocker’s dad (an old biker type with long hair) chastises his son, reminding him of the commandment to “honor thy father and thy mother,” which is to say that Hank knows best how to raise his boy. The episode, in the end, has managed to lampoon the excesses of Christian culture and reaffirm conservative Christian values. How many TV programs show this level of nuance, especially as it pertains to different strains of conservatism?
In another of my favorite episodes, Hank’s abrasive and misogynistic World War II vet father, Cotton, sets a bad example for young Bobby by treating women like sex objects. “My marriage is a partnership of equals,” Hank tells Cotton, setting him straight. And he tells Bobby, “Peggy’s my best friend,” before adding: “Women were not put on this earth to serve you and me.”
It’s an important message, but just as Hank is schooling Bobby, he pulls his truck into an outdoor ’50s-style diner, where scantily clad young waitresses on roller skates approach the truck to take their order. Music plays. Credits roll. And the show has conceded a small-c conservative insight: that humans are imperfect and hypocritical, and that change — especially at the macro level — takes time.
In the Trumpian era of Andrew Tate and toxic masculinity, Hank’s message from that episode, which originally aired in 1997, has aged pretty well. Perhaps because it’s an argument that still needs to be heard, the topic was revisited in last year’s season, when Hank’s little brother started following a misogynistic manosphere influencer. Hank, of course, is the voice of reason.
Some episodes also show Hank, thanks to his self-awareness, evolving from a traditionalist position as he learns more about a topic and comes to appreciate a different point of view. These episodes are at some level the least political of all — and yet in 2026, the very idea that people can and should be open to different ideas is its own kind of political statement. In the original run, a common theme has to do with Hank, who values traditional masculine activities like hunting and sports, learning to appreciate his more artistic and quirky son whose first dream was to become a prop comic. (Spoiler: In the reboot, he’s the head chef of a Dallas-based Japanese-German fusion restaurant.) The point here is that Hank has to accept and love his son for who he is, not who Hank wants him to be.
Other episodes show Hank overcoming his natural aversion to technology or displaying a growing tolerance for people who might be considered a tad weird. For instance, a recent episode (“Hank Encounters of the Nerd Kind”) involves Hank trying to help Bobby run a food truck outside a sci-fi convention. Hank, viewing the cosplay as freakish, inevitably offends the participants, costing Bobby business. This leads Hank to do a deep dive into the sci-fi genre, gaining appreciation and finding a way to repair the relationship.
The values of “King of the Hill” so resonated with me that it was a vital part of how I raised my two sons. Seriously. We literally went years where we watched an episode together almost every night. For us, the “together” part was key: Too many parents never get around to talking about the kinds of sensitive issues the show introduces. And few overt morality tales are constructed well enough to gain the attention (or credibility) to impart values and lessons to an increasingly skeptical generation of teens and pre-teens. So these sorts of conversations are usually skipped or reserved for some random ski vacation or fishing trip where dad is supposed to magically impart some positive worldview. “King of the Hill” — by thoughtfully tackling bullying, poverty, workplace exploitation, crime, aging, gentrification, unemployment, generational conflict, marriage and commitment, religious fundamentalism, sex and pregnancy, consumerism and environmentalism — helped me avoid this trap.
The show does have an edgy streak: There are pimps, prostitutes, a strip club, right-wing gun nuts, conspiracy theorists, a long-term adulterous affair and inadvertent buying of drugs (Hank thinks they are fishing bait). So if you’re trying to shelter your kids from the world, be forewarned. If, however, you’re looking for an invitation to expose your appropriately aged kids to the real world in small doses — if you’re looking for an excuse or an opportunity to (literally) hit pause and have otherwise awkward conversations — “King of the Hill” delivers.
But even if you’re not interested in parenting or pedagogy, this series revival comes at just the right moment. Americans could use a masculine hero who is brave and decent, watches football (the Cowboys), drinks beer (Alamo), is proud of his blue-collar job (Strickland Propane assistant manager) and respects women (especially Peggy). A traditionalist who values community, institutions and personal freedom. A conservative who isn’t a jerk.
To me, the continued existence of “King of the Hill” provides some modicum of hope that a silent majority out there still cherishes traditional American values, including things like pluralism and open-mindedness. And perhaps blue-collar, beer-drinking, church-going Hank Hill — no liberal or cosmopolitan elitist, to be sure — can help anyone who wants their kids to grow up with a better role model for how to be a conservative.
Yes, it’s a little sad that the best available example might be an animated character. But at this point in history, I suppose we’ll take what we can get.
Matt K. Lewis is a NOTUS Perspectives columnist.
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