When we talk about the architecture of Gilead, the names Waterford and Lawrence usually dominate the conversation. But honestly, if you want to understand how a regime like this actually functions on a day-to-day basis, you have to look at Commander Putnam Handmaid's Tale fans love to hate. Warren Putnam, played with a chilling, slick entitlement by Stephen Kunken, wasn't just another guy in a black suit. He was the embodiment of the "rules for thee, but not for me" hypocrisy that eventually eats every dictatorship from the inside out.
He was gross. Let’s just say it. From the very first season, Putnam represented a specific brand of predatory behavior that Gilead theoretically claimed to abolish but actually codified into law.
The Brutal Reality of Warren Putnam in Gilead
Warren Putnam wasn't a true believer in the way someone like Aunt Lydia is. He was an opportunist. While other Commanders waxed poetic about the divine mission of the Sons of Jacob, Putnam was busy looking for ways to exploit the system for his own physical gratification. We saw this immediately with Janine. Most viewers remember the absolute heartbreak of Janine—formerly Jeanine—clinging to the bridge with her baby. Why was she there? Because Putnam had filled her head with lies.
He promised her they would run away together. He told her he loved her. In a world where these women are treated like walking wombs, that kind of emotional manipulation is a death sentence. Putnam didn’t care about the "sanctity of life" or the "blessing of a child." He wanted a mistress who couldn't say no.
Gilead’s response to his initial transgression was fascinatingly inconsistent. Remember the trial? Naomi Putnam, his wife, actually advocated for his life, but she didn't do it out of love. She did it for status. In the end, they took his left arm. It was a rare moment where the show forced a high-ranking official to face the music of their own extremist laws. But as we saw in later seasons, a missing limb didn't exactly humble him. It just made him more cautious about who was watching.
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Why Putnam’s Fate Mattered More Than Waterford’s
Fred Waterford’s death was a spectacle. It was catharsis. It was June and the girls in the woods, a primal scream of justice. But Commander Putnam Handmaid's Tale viewers saw meet his end in Season 5 felt different. It felt political.
By the time we get to the later seasons, the power dynamics in Gilead are shifting. Nick and Lawrence are playing a very dangerous game. Putnam, ever the cockroach, was still trying to maintain his old-school predatory habits. When he began targeting the new young Handmaids—specifically attempting to claim Esther—he crossed a line that Lawrence could use against him.
The execution of Warren Putnam in the middle of a crowded restaurant was a pivot point for the series. It wasn't just about punishing a rapist; it was about Lawrence consolidating power and proving that the "New Gilead" would be more efficient, less messy, and more "moral" on the surface. When Nick pulled the trigger and Putnam’s brains ended up on the floor, it signaled that the old guard of the revolution was being purged.
Putnam died because he was a liability to the image of the state. He thought his rank made him invincible. He was wrong.
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The Complicated Role of Naomi Putnam
You can't talk about Warren without talking about Naomi. Everly Carradine played her with such a brittle, terrified precision. Naomi is a victim of Gilead, sure, but she’s also an architect of it. She stayed with a man who cheated on her, humiliated her, and put their social standing at risk.
When Warren was executed, the show did something brilliant: it moved Naomi into Lawrence’s orbit. This suggests that in Gilead, women are passed around like assets. Even the "privileged" wives of Commanders are just one husband’s execution away from losing everything. It highlights the precariousness of life for everyone involved.
- Warren used Janine for sex and ego.
- Naomi used the baby for status.
- Gilead used Warren as a scapegoat.
It’s a cycle of exploitation. Putnam’s life—and his death—serve as a roadmap for how these systems eventually turn on their own. He wasn't a "good" Commander, but he was a very "effective" character for showing the audience that nobody is truly safe in a land built on fear.
The Legacy of the Character
Stephen Kunken deserves a lot of credit for making Putnam feel human and pathetic at the same time. He wasn't a cartoon villain. He was the kind of guy you might see at a country club—polite, well-dressed, and absolutely devoid of a moral compass. That’s what makes the Commander Putnam Handmaid's Tale arc so haunting. He isn't some monster under the bed; he's the institutionalized predator.
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His removal from the board didn't fix Gilead. If anything, it made the machine run smoother. That’s the darkest lesson of his character arc. Killing the "bad" Commanders doesn't save the world if you're just replacing them with more efficient ones.
What to Watch for in Future Rewatches
If you're going back through the series, pay close attention to the scenes where Putnam interacts with other Commanders. He’s always looking for an angle. He’s the first to suggest harsh punishments for others, likely to deflect from his own sins.
- Look at the Season 1 "Particicution" and how Putnam watches the violence.
- Analyze his behavior in the hospital scenes—his lack of genuine concern for the child is telling.
- Observe his final meal. He is arrogant until the very last second.
To truly understand the political decline of the Sons of Jacob, track how the other leaders treat Putnam. They don't respect him; they tolerate him. Until they don't. That shift is where the real story lies. To stay updated on the lore and the upcoming final seasons, focus on the power shifts between the remaining Commanders and how they distance themselves from the "original" sinners of the regime like Warren Putnam.
The most important takeaway from Putnam’s arc is the realization that in a system based on absolute control, even the controllers are disposable. Efficiency always trumps loyalty in the eyes of a fascist state. Keep your eyes on Lawrence’s next moves—he’s the one who really pulled the strings on Putnam’s exit, and he’s not done reshaping Gilead yet.