Jeanette Smith

8 April 2016

                                      Faults and Forgiveness in Tragedy

          During the course of this class, students were asked to consider where the two traditions of Classical Greek Tragedy and modern African literature meet. While I discovered many crossroads, the most important meeting place for me has been mimesis, which is the representation of the real world in art. As I stated in my midterm, Aristotle suggests in his Poetics that the greatness of humanity is revealed by both fear and pity. Instead of seeing the fall of the evil and the elevation of the good, I discovered that in tragedy “pity is aroused by unmerited fortune, fear by the misfortune of a man like ourselves.” In both Classical Greek Tragedy and modern African literature, I was continually surprised to learn that there is no shortage of men and women who exhibit Aristotle’s mixed humanity. I also learned that some characters were easier to pity than others.

          For example, I was able to pity Antigone because her gender situated her outside the Greek patriarchal polis. As I wrote in my research essay, Greek women were “closeted” inside the female domain of the home, and their battles were usually with the societal restrictions placed upon them.  In contrast, I found that most male characters, in Classical Greek tragedies and modern African literature, battled against a fatal flaw (usually pride), making them more difficult to pity.  Still, over the course of this class I discovered that even those I considered the most “unforgiveable” could be forgiven when considering the idea of mixed humanity.

           When I first encountered Oedipus in Oedipus the King, I was shocked at his abominable crimes of incest and murder, but because he committed them unwittingly, I pitied him. I also considered  Freud’s “Oedipus Complex” theory and questioned whether Freud was right when he claimed that “ King Oedipus, who slew his father Laius and wedded his mother Jocasta, is nothing more or less than a wish-fulfilment—the fulfilment of the wish of our childhood.” While I am still questioning Freud’s theory, I have learned the importance of fate in tragedy. The problem that I later encountered with Oedipus is his fatal flaw of pride which causes him to sever his relationship with his sons in Oedipus at Colonus. I wondered if I should side with Freud who would have probably thought that Oedipus wanted his sons out of the way so he could keep his daughters to himself. There is so much ambiguity associated with Freud’s ideas; I wasn’t sure this idea would work. No matter his motive, I found Oedipus’s dismissal of his sons unforgivable.  For me, his redemption came as I remembered his mixed humanity and realized that pride seems to come with the territory when you are a leader, whether a Greek king or as I later learned, an African tribal leader.  

          Creon was particularly hard for me to pity. In Antigone, he seems to be nothing more than a stubborn and cruel king. But as I learned more about Thebes’s changing political climate, I realized that tragedy oftentimes complicates justice, and I found this to be true in the case of Creon. It is clear that Creon is fulfilling the expectations placed upon him as a political leader; Greek citizens expected their kings to execute the written laws of the land. With that in mind, I was able to offer Creon, with some difficulty, a measure of forgiveness as I observed his confrontation with Antigone and saw the complications of justice in action as two proud and stubborn people battled each other—one in defense of a family tradition (Antigone) and the other for the enforcement of a new political system (Creon). I also questioned whether Antigone should be viewed as a stubborn woman in her civil disobedience or should she be viewed as a victim of fate—a daughter stained by the sin of her incestuous father who must submit to the will of the gods.  Either way, this class helped me to look beyond their faults to see the humanity of these characters.

          I learned that despite the cultural differences, African literature contains many of the same tragic elements as the Classical Greek plays. For instance, in Things Fall Apart, I saw Okonkwo as a respected community leader who possesses the same fatal flaw of pride as Oedipus. And like Creon (and in some ways, Antigone), Okonkwo also has an “inflexible will” (24). His rejection of his son, Nwoye, for his perceived weakness and his slaying of Ikemefuna because “he was afraid of appearing weak” added to his beating of his wife (61) made him, in my eyes, an unforgiveable character.  But later I began to see his mixed humanity as he shows remorse for his murder and a surprising gentleness in his care for his daughter Ezinma. I also learned that tradition is an important element in African culture. Okonkwo can be seen as both hardheaded in his rejection of modernity but also faithful to his tribal traditions as he claims: “But the law of the land must be obeyed” (69). His problem is that he, unlike many of the younger tribal members, cannot accept the inevitability of the changes that colonialism brings. At the end of the novel, I was able to forgive Okonkwo, even for the beheading of the messenger, because he is trapped between two worlds.  His answer to change is violence:  “Do I shut my eyes? No! I take a stick and break his head. This is what a man does” (158). Okonkwo’s suicide only solidified my pity for him as he becomes a part of the “ashes of bygone days” (153).

          In The Rape of Shavi, a character that I first admired is Asogba. The once curious and friendly African prince changes at the end of the novel into a tragic young leader who is “drunk with power” (152) and rides around Shavi in his “new jeep” (154). In contrast with Okonkwo, Asogba rejects his tribe’s traditional ways: “Why are we so behind other people? It must be because of our isolation” (162). His transformation allowed me to see that embracing modernity is not without its problems. He rejects traditions that bind the community together and becomes caught up in tribal warfare, a problem so often associated with African postcolonial states.  Despite the unlikeable “new” Asogba, I believe that he deserves forgiveness because he has been dehumanized and brainwashed by the “others” whose ways he embraced.

          In another African text, A Grain of Wheat, I again saw mixed humanity in Mugo, the hero/traitor of the novel. Finding himself in a world embroiled in a rebellion against “black and white soldiers” (4) in postcolonial Africa, I saw him as both a hero who saves lives and a traitor to his own culture. Admiring him through most of the novel, I was shocked at the admittance of his betrayal. But I later remembered his horrendous childhood which causes him to become a “tormented and isolated man, morose and self-doubting.” And like so many other tragic characters, he is forced into making difficult choices which lead to consequences that affect the entire community.  

          In conclusion, I found it is ironic that Creon (for me, the hardest character to forgive) articulates in Oedipus the King this idea of mixed humanity and forgiveness when he tells Oedipus:  “It's not fair to judge these things by guesswork, to assume bad men are good or good men bad” (737-8). It has been enlightening for me to study both Classical Greek Tragedy and modern African literature together and see the discourse that happens between the two. The meeting of the two in the area of mimesis has been the most profound moment of learning for me in this class as I was able to reflect upon the complexity of the characters and the often tragic nature of humanity.

                              Tragic Narrative and its Intruders: Comedy and Romance

          Today’s world is a “feel good” society—a society where art is expected to help us escape from our problems. All we have to do to confirm this is to turn on our television sets where we are bombarded with situation comedies. Or if we choose to go to a movie theater, our choices are usually more comedies (usually romantic), horror, or disaster films. Today it is rare to find a film based on a tragic narrative. Why are there so few substantive dramas based on tragedy available today? Perhaps it is because we no longer desire art that challenges us and makes us think. This is why I believe that the tragic narrative is the most important of the literary genres. It not only makes us think, but its stories are timeless, traveling across time and crossing cultures. But there are times when the tragic narrative is intruded upon by other genres, such comedy and romance with surprisingly results.

          With a tragic narrative, the story begins with a problem or conflict that is significant to society, its leaders, or its representatives. When comedy and romance stand alone, they usually are not focused on serious conflicts. In comedy, the characters and situations are usually unrealistic such as sitcoms like Friends. This contrasts with the tragic narrative which shows plots as more realistic and characters believable.  With romance, the focus may be on an unrealistic journey or quest such as in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy or perhaps a love quest like the film You’ve Got Mail.  In both comedy and romance, characters usually are exaggerated examples of human behavior. There are also strong lines drawn between good and evil characters, contrasting with tragic narrative which shows its characters as mixed, representing the true human condition. Another point of contrast between the three genres is that the tragic narrative is usually accompanied by the death, banishment, or quieting of the tragic hero. With comedy and romance, the heroes usually resolve their problems and live happily ever after.

          With comedy, the problems or conflicts are less significant than tragedy, and the characters are often shallow and one-dimensional. This contrasts with the tragic narrative where the hero is conflicted and complex.  Comedy shows people as well-meaning fools who make a spectacle of themselves. This can be accomplished through physical “slapstick” humor or through their speech. We feel no fear or pity for them as we do with tragic characters. Comic characters cause us to laugh and even feel embarrassed for them as they fall over their feet and their words.  This is the opposite of tragic characters who are intelligent or witty. Another difference is that while tragedy involves high-ranking families, comic characters are usually members of society’s lower class.

          An example of comedy’s intrusion into the tragic narrative can be found in Oedipus the King. In the play, comedy comes in the form of some lower class characters—the messengers. Their speech contrasts with the dignified speech of the royal court. The first messenger’s words appear confusing when he tells Oedipus, “I’ve come from Corinth/ I’ll give you my report at once and then/ you will, no doubt, be glad, although perhaps/ you will be sad, as well” (1108-11). He also tells Oedipus that Polybus has died and Oedipus asks,” Apparently his death/was from an illness?”  The messenger’s reply is silly: “Yes, and from old age.” (1143-43). Sometimes a comic character may try to overstep their bounds and appear disrespectful to those who rule over them. When Oedipus asks about Laius: “Is he still alive? Can I still see him?” the messenger rudely replies, “You people live here. You’d best answer that” (1250-1). Later, a second messenger gives the details of Jocasta’s suicide in a rambling fifty-five line monologue (1478-1533), proving that he is relishing his dramatic moment in the spotlight. Also in Oedipus at Colonus, a messenger brings a comic touch to a very serious announcement about the death of Oedipus. Instead of a short, somber announcement, the messenger’s becomes long-winded, rambling on for seventy-one lines (1719-90).  But he offers a defense for his behavior: “And if to some my tale seems foolishness/I am content that such could count me fool” (1791-2).  

          In Antigone, a guard provides some comic moments when he rushes in to the court to bring news to Creon:

          “My lord, I can’t say I’ve come out of breath
          by running here, making my feet move fast.
          Many times I stopped to think things over—
          and then I’d turn around, retrace my steps.   
          My mind was saying many things to me,                                                          

          "You fool, why go to where you know for sure
          your punishment awaits?"—"And now, poor man

          why are you hesitating yet again?”

                                                (256-63)

We can’t help but laugh at the guard’s flustered speech while attempting to deliver a serious message to his somber listeners.

          Comedy intrudes into African tragedy as well. For instance, in Death and the King’s Horseman, we see a comic moment in the confrontation between Amusa and the market women. Again, both Amusa and the women are of the lower class. The women take a determined stand against Amusa and begin to tease him mercilessly showing both physical and verbal comedy. One woman tugs at Amusa’s baton while making sexual insinuations about it: “That [the baton] doesn’t fool anyone. It’s the one you carry under the government knickers that counts” (27). The women go on to snatch away the batons of the newly-arrived constables and proceed to knock off the men’s hats. Acting out a hilarious improvised skit, they mock and humiliate the men and collapse with laughter (30-1).

          The romantic genre also intrudes into tragedy. For instance, in Oedipus at Colonus, the character of Theseus resembles a romantic, chivalric knight such as Lancelot as he fearlessly rescues the daughters of Oedipus and protects his “King”.  He even speaks like he has jumped right out of a romance narrative:

          So pitying thine estate,
          Most ill-starred Oedipus, I fain would know
          What is the request you ask of me and Athens,                 

          Thou and the helpless maiden at thy side.

                                                (575-8)

          Another element of romance can appear in the tragic narrative—a conclusion as transcendence. Transcendence is the idea of ascending above into something greater. For example, in the romantic comedy Grease, we see an example of romantic transcendence, with a touch of comedy added, when the two lovers, Danny and Sandy,  resolve their differences at the end of the film and are shown waving to their friends as their convertible ascends above the clouds into the “happily ever after” heavens.  But in tragedy, transcendence is a little more serious that this. For example, in Oedipus at Colonus, we see the death of Oedipus as transcendence into the eternal unknown: “For there fell/No fiery bolt that reft him in that hour/Nor whirlwind from the sea, but he was taken...He passed away – an end most marvelous” (1784-90). Oedipus is able to “rise above” his tragic life into a greater one.

          While I believe that the tragic narrative is the most important genre, I also think that the intrusion of comedy and/or romance can be important additions to a tragedy. While I would not want to read a story filled with all comedic moments, they can bring readers a momentary relief from the tense moments in tragedy.  Likewise, a romantic character or situation tossed into a tragedy can be helpful as a reminder that we can all rise above the struggles (or tragedies) of our lives. For these reasons, these surprising intruders, no matter how brief their appearance should be welcomed.