The day before Election Day, I went on a hopeful binge of “The West Wing,” NBC’s 1999-2006 love letter to democracy and smart people who walk and talk too fast. I thought that watching earnest civil servants in love with America might be a harbinger of good things to come. I even changed my ringtone to the triumphant theme song by W.G. Snuffy Walden and fell asleep watching President Jed Bartlet (Martin Sheen) do his righteous thing.

But when I woke up in the middle of the night and saw where the results were going, I immediately switched the show off. In that moment, the optimistic romantic presidential fantasy was too much for me.

Since Tuesday, I’ve been thinking a lot about how many television series about politics have flourished in the last several decades, including three of my favorites: “The West Wing,” “Scandal” and “Parks and Recreation,” each of which I’ve rewatched more than once. Those shows have always appealed to me more than the darkly comic “Veep” and the darkly dark “House of Cards,” neither of which I’ve seen more than a few episodes of. It’s probably because I wanted to believe in the hopey-changey reasons that people go into government.

It’s not like the folks in “West Wing” and “Scandal” don’t get sinister, but at some point, somebody’s trying to do the right thing. I am not feeling a lot of that right now, so I went back to each of those shows to see how they hit me in this stark new reality.

‘The West Wing’

Showrunner Aaron Sorkin’s fictional White House is filled with super-smart Democrats — and the occasional smart Republican to keep them humble — who truly believe in the role that government plays in making people’s lives better.

It’s not like I didn’t already know this was a fantasy. They are just too good. But in the waning days of the Clinton administration’s scandals followed by the war-laden G.W. Bush era, including the carnage of 9/11, Bartlet and his staff seemed like an almost-attainable ideal in a less-than-ideal time. (It seemed more attainable before last week, anyway.)

They are a weary work family who love each other and give their all to save the world, even including the time they assassinated that foreign leader. That was bleak.

It bothered me then, though, and even more now, that Sorkin’s original main cast, the ultimate group of democracy fighters, was all white. The show was also way too in love with the concept of hot, brilliant, emotionally stunted men who were terrible to women but somehow deserved them anyway. (Looking at you, former ultimate TV boyfriend Joshua Lyman.)

Upon rewatch, it’s clear that the Bartlet administration is never beating the elitism allegations of either their real or fictional critics. These are people who have passionate arguments about which Gilbert and Sullivan operetta a certain song was in, as if the smartest guys in the room had to be Ivy League with suspenders and conversant in Victorian-era composers. I honestly think our current political situation is a rejection of that image of overeducated snobs. They are annoying. But boy, do I wish they were headed to the West Wing right now.

‘Scandal’

I was a huge fan of Shonda Rhimes’ 2012-2018 hit show. But after reviewing it again, I realized I’d forgotten how early heroine Olivia Pope (Kerry Washington) went from high-powered problem solver to hot mess. In the premiere, Pope seems to be a disenchanted former White House operative who left to form her own firm that helps well-connected clients outside of the system. She and her team consider themselves “gladiators in suits” — righteous fighters with poise and law degrees.

But it’s soon clear that Olivia’s disenchantment reads more like guilt (SPOILER ALERT) because she was the once and future mistress of the president. She also (SPOILER SPOILER) was part of a plot to put the aforementioned President Fitzgerald Grant (Tony Goldwyn) in power. (Whoops!) One of her employees was an ex-government hit man, and by the series finale pretty much every cast member had murdered somebody. It was all about power, sex and crazy.

I guess in my mind, Olivia was a well-respected Black woman playing in the halls of influence, but watching again, it’s clear she was as off the rails as everyone else. Perhaps more. There were no heroes. In a weird way, this seems way more realistic and au courant than “The West Wing.” Sad but true.

‘Parks and Recreation’

I didn’t love the first season of Greg Daniel and Michael Schur’s 2009-2015 NBC sitcom because I found it mean-spirited in the way it mocked the almost obsessive governmental calling of Pawnee, Indiana, civil servant Leslie Knope, played by Amy Poehler. The first six episodes make her seem like a weirdo who throws her energy into public projects with her ragtag group of colleagues, including the Libertarian government-hating Ron Swanson (Nick Offerman).

But something changed significantly in later seasons. Leslie was still kind of a weirdo, but a beautifully sincere one whose goal was to make her beloved Pawnee a place all its citizens could enjoy. Sure, she had a Joe Biden obsession that seems quaint and tragic, given the end of the real-life version’s presidency. And I hated the consistent bullying of hapless but nice co-worker Jerry (Jim O’Heir).

But the show remains timely. There’s a weirdly prescient episode in the sixth season in which Leslie tries to get fluoride in Pawnee’s water for the first time ever. She faces opposition from cavity-loving orthodontist and City Council colleague Jeremy Jamm (Jon Glaser), who, along with the local candy company, claims the addition will turn the townspeople into “bad at math, Communist fluoride zombies.” The real-life incoming administration said recently they’ll employ a guy who wants to take fluoride out of the American water supply. In the episode, Leslie winds up outsmarting Jamm and saving the town’s teeth, but the show telegraphed the threat of greed while holding onto the idea that good can win.

I look back at some of the aspirational spirit of these shows and feel a little naive, and the current reality makes those hopes seem frivolous. But I can’t help wanting to believe there’s still a little hope. A way to change. It seems unlikely right now, but I can’t give it up. After all, my name is Leslie, too.