Heather Minette Schutmaat
22
February 2016
The
Universality of Tragedy
John
Buice’s midterm essay, “The Tragic Irony of Irony in Tragedy,” provides an
interesting and enlightening discussion of the importance of irony, dramatic
irony, and action, in both Greek Tragedy and African Literature. In his
discussion, Buice emphasizes the importance of action in tragedy by stating,
“any act is fundamentally more virtuous than inaction” and supports this claim
by pointing out how “the great qualities of Oedipus, Agamemnon, and other Greek
heroes were immaterial; their actions determined their status as tragic heroes.”
Buice also connects the significance of action to African Literature, asserting
that Okonkwo of Things Fall Apart
also “chose to act as the only moral response to his tragic condition,” which
further stresses the importance of action and provides an understanding of
Aristotle’s insistence that tragedy must involve “an
imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude.”
Furthermore, pointing out this intersection also demonstrates how Greek
Tragedy and African literature correspond and meet in terms of the tragedy of
the human condition, and consequently establishes the universality of the genre.
What struck me most about Buice’s essay, however, was his final note on
the prominence of family in the literature of Tragedy. At the beginning of the
course, we learned that tragedy involves family, or as Aristotle states, the
best tragedy is “founded on the story
of a few houses [i.e. families],” and we’ve identified this in each play that
we’ve read. Buice’s essay offers an explanation for the prominence of family in
tragedy that I found enlightening, thought-provoking, and ultimately agreed
with: “I think the reason family and community, especially in Things Fall
Apart, are so prominent in the literature of Tragedy is because the
tragedies of life met alone are unbearable. The only comfort we can find after
doing everything to overcome our human condition and failing is each other.” I
think the reason I found his explanation of the prominence of family so
striking, and reflected on it as long as I did, is because Buice essentially
proves that tragedy is so universal that we even respond to tragedy in a
universal manner—by turning to our families and finding comfort in one another.
Isaac G. Villanueva’s midterm essay, “The Value of Learning by
Experiencing Tragedy and Africa,” centers on the similarities and dialogue that
exist between Master Harold and the Boys
and Oedipus the King, as well as the
differences between their modern and traditional cultures. Like Buice’s
examination of the significance of action in Greek Tragedy and African
Literature, Villanueva’s essay draws parallels between
Master Harold and the Boys and
Oedipus the King, and shows how both
works involve characters who act: “I see the lead characters in Master Harold
and the Boys and Oedipus the King, Sam and Oedipus, as being the good
guys who try to do good and have it turn out badly anyway. It is ironic that
things don’t live up to their expectations. These two stories are classic
examples of what real life is like.” Villanueva also highlights the mixed nature
of humanity in tragedy and suggests that for this reason, tragedy is the most
realistic genre: “We all have good and bad in us, and when compared with works
of romance and comedy, tragedy is the most like real life.”
Although I haven’t read Master Harold and
the Boys, Villanueva’s commentary on the differences between modern and
traditional cultures, or modern and classic tragedies, provided me with features
to look for in our readings in the second half of the semester. For example,
Villanueva asserts, “Most classic tragedies are mainly about royalty, as we
shall see shortly in Oedipus the King, while modern tragedies seem to be
about middle-class people…” I found this shift in socioeconomic status really
interesting and look forward to identifying and examining this change in
contemporary novels.
Overall, Buice and Villanueva both demonstrated the universality of tragedy by
analyzing and comparing Greek Tragedy and African Literature, and the parallels
they drew between the works, the characters, and their actions and fates,
establish tragedy as the most universal and realistic genre of literature.
Mixed
Characterization as a Defining Feature of Tragedy
What
stands out to me the most in studying Aeschylus’s trilogy alongside Wole
Soyinka’s play is learning that the mixed nature of characters is one of the
defining features of tragedy as a literary genre. The word tragedy in its broad
and popular sense is generally used to describe an unfortunate event that causes
great suffering, especially when the event is undeserved. In other words, in
common speech, we assign the word tragedy to events in which bad things happen
to good people, such as the sudden death of a young person or a good person
going wrong. In literary criticism, however, the word tragedy takes on a
different and more complex meaning. Unlike the broad sense of the word tragedy
that depicts tragedy as an act of misfortune in the life of a good person, tragedy
in the literary sense depicts the mixed nature of humanity and illuminates both
the good and bad qualities of all individuals, and defines tragedy not as an
accident, but as a consequence of our mixed nature and human decisions.
Identifying and examining the mixed nature of the main characters in
The
Oresteia Trilogy by
Aeschylus and Death and the King’s
Horseman by Wole Soyinka has helped me in defining tragedy as a literary
genre, as well as establish the universality of tragedy and mixed human nature.
Unlike the narrative genre of romance in which the good and bad characters, or
heroes and villains, are clearly defined, tragedy portrays humanity in a more
complex, and more realistic, manner—oftentimes through a character whose
intentions are good, but whose actions inevitably have tragic consequences. For
example, in Agamemnon, part one of
The Oresteia Trilogy, King Agamemnon
sacrifices his daughter Iphigenia in order to appease
Artemis and gain favorable winds for his forces to sail to Troy. However,
corresponding with Aristotle’s statement in
Poetics that “Nor, again, should the
downfall of the utter villain be exhibited,” Agamemnon is not illustrated as an
utter villain, but instead as a human of mixed nature in a tragic position:
“It's
harsh not to obey this fate—but to go through with it is harsh as well, to kill
my child, the glory of my house, to stain a father's hands before the altar with
streams of virgin's blood. Which of my options is not evil? …
How can I just leave this fleet,
and
let my fellow warriors down?
Their
passionate demand for sacrifice to calm the winds lies within their rights—
even
the sacrifice of virgin blood.
So
be it. All may be well." (242-253)
Although readers and viewers may initially deem Agamemnon a villain knowing that
he sacrifices his own daughter, an examination of the tragic conflict of his
situation shows that while sacrificing his daughter was bad, he did so for what
he felt was a greater cause. In short, Agamemnon exemplifies the mixed nature of
humanity because he is both villainous in sacrificing his daughter, and heroic
in gaining favorable winds for his fleet, rather than one or the other, and
demonstrates how individuals in tragedy are not defined as good or bad, but
mixed.
Agamemnon’s wife, Queen Clytaemnestra, his son Orestes, and his daughter
Electra also exemplify the mixed nature of individuals in tragedy. In part one
of The Oresteia Trilogy Agamemnon
returns to Argos, where Queen Clytaemnestra and her lover Aegisthus murder Agamemnon
and his slave Cassandra. Just as we may identify Agamemnon as part villain because he
sacrifices his daughter, we can also identify Queen Clytaemnestra as part
villain in murdering her husband. Similarly, just as Agamemnon sacrificed his
daughter for what he thought was a good cause, Queen Clytaemnestra killed
Agamemnon in order avenge her daughter’s death, which can also be perceived as a
heroic act. This duality of villain
and hero also holds true in Electra and Oreste’s murder of Queen Clytaemnestra
and Aegisthus in The Libation Bearers,
as Electra drives Orestes to murder their mother and Aegisthus to avenge their
father’s death.
Again, unlike Romanticism in which the heroes and villains are clearly
contrasted and defined, tragedy illustrates the complexity of humanity and the
mixed nature of individuals. Identifying the both good and bad qualities in the
characters in Aeschylus’ The
Oresteia Trilogy and
examining the duality of their nature helped me to understand how tragedy in the
literary sense differs from tragedy in the popular sense, as the characters
possess both good and bad qualities, and the tragedy in the play is not simply
an accident or act of misfortune, but instead a result of human actions driven
by mixed nature.
The mixed nature of humanity as a defining feature of tragedy is also
portrayed in Wole Soyinka’s play Death
and the King’s Horseman, and perhaps most powerfully through the characters
Elesin Oba, the Horseman of the King who is meant to perform ritual suicide, and
Simon Pilkings, the British District Officer who initially prevents the suicide
from taking place. At the start of the play, the king of Yoruba has died and
according to Yoruba culture and tradition, Elesin is to commit suicide to
accompany the king to the next world in order to sustain cosmic order. Elesin
first appears to be a good horseman, as he is characterized as “a man of
enormous vitality, speaks, dances and sings with that infectious enjoyment in
life which accompanies all his actions” (5). Elesin also recognizes all of the
privileges he has enjoyed in his position: “In all my life / As horseman of the
King, the juiciest / Fruit on every tree was mine. I saw, / I touched, I wooed,
rarely was the answer No” (13-14). Therefore, Elesin’s good qualities are
apparent from the start, as he acknowledges his privileges, is honored to be in
his position, and is confident in his readiness to commit suicide and accompany
the king. However, consistent with Aristotle’s
Poetics, which states that tragedy
must involve a man “who is not eminently good and just, yet
whose misfortune is brought about not
by vice or depravity, but by some error or frailty,” Elesin is also a
character of mixed nature.
Although Elesin proclaims readiness, he is still attached to the material world
and insists that because he is making a sacrifice for his people, he deserves to
make a beautiful girl his bride before his departure. Ultimately Elesin’s
attachment to the world and his request to marry delays his action and
contributes to his failure to complete the ritual, which will disrupt the cosmic
order. As Tanure Ojaide states in his essay, “Death
and the King’s Horseman in the classroom,” “[Elesin] hadn’t the will to die
because of his attachment to material things—market, fine clothes, and a young
woman. To understand the play as a tragedy, I impress it on my students that
Elesin’s failure is not refusing to die, but not dying at the appropriate
moment” (119). In other words, Elesin has good qualities because he is willing
to commit the ritual and accompany the king, but he has bad qualities too, or an
“error or frailty,” as he delays in his action and fails to commit the ritual at
the time in which he should have in order to maintain order, and his delay
allows enough time for the British officer Simon Pilkings to intervene.
British Officer Pilkings hears of the ritual suicide and is resolute in
his mission to stop it from taking place. It’s easy to label Pilkings as a
villain, especially from a cultural perspective, because his belief that a
ritual suicide is barbaric is both ethnocentric and hypocritical, as “[his] men
have orders to shoot at the first sign of trouble” after he’s detained Elesin,
and “to prevent one death [he] will actually make other deaths” (59). However,
in Pilkings’ conversation with Elesin, we understand that Pilkings’ intentions
were in fact good and that he genuinely believed he was saving Elesin’s life.
When Elesin tells Pilkings, “You have shattered the peace of the world forever.
There is no sleep in the world tonight” Pilkings responds, “It is still a good
bargain if the world should lose one night’s sleep as the price of saving a
man’s life” (50). Here, it is clear that Pilkings isn’t an utter villain and
does have good qualities and intentions, but because he does not understand, and
consequently does not respect, the Yoruba culture, he has not saved Elesin’s
life, but destroyed it. As a result of Elesin’s mixed nature and his delay in
committing the ritual, and Pilkings’ mixed nature and action in stopping the
ritual from taking place, Elesin’s son commits suicide in Elesin’s place, and
upon seeing his dead son, Elesin commits suicide by strangling himself with
chains. Therefore, unlike the popular sense of the word tragedy that involves an
accident in which a bad thing happens to a good person, the tragedy in
Death and the King’s Horseman, like
the tragedies in The Oresteia Trilogy,
is a result of characters of mixed nature and their human actions.
In addition to mixed characterizations,
The Oresteia Trilogy and
Death and the King’s Horseman also
meet in many other ways in terms of tragedy as a literary genre. For example,
both plays begin “with a problem or conflict that is significant to society, its
leaders, or its representatives,” or in other words, problems of the plays’
tragic heroes “are not just personal problems but affect the entire city, state,
or society.” Both works are also “founded on the story of a few houses [i.e.
families]” and involve “an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and
of a certain magnitude” (Aristotle). Furthermore, both plays exemplify Friedrich
Nietzsche’s theory that the two opposing, but complimentary states of Dionysus
and Apollo meet in tragedy. In The Birth
of Tragedy, Nietzsche postulates that tragedy is a work of art that is both
Dionysiac and Apolline. Apollo, the god
of light and justice, represents order, and Dionysus, the god of wine,
represents chaos. Nietzsche uses the two gods as symbols that “walk side by
side, usually in violent opposition to one another, inciting one another to ever
more powerful births, perpetuating the struggle of the opposition only
apparently bridged by the word ‘art’…” (14). Apollo and Dionysus as symbols in a
dialectic of two distinct but complementary styles of art that meet in tragedy
are certainly identifiable in both
The
Oresteia Trilogy
and Death and the King’s Horseman.
The first two parts of The
Oresteia Trilogy involve
the chaos of individuals taking matters into their own hands, but ends in order
with the establishment of the court, and
Death and the King’s Horseman involves the chaos of Elesin and Pilkings
disrupting the ritual suicide of the Yoruba culture, and ends with Elesin’s son
sacrificing himself in place of his father to reestablish the order.
All things considered, examining the mixed characterization in the works of
Aeschylus and Soyinka and learning that this characterization of humanity is the
main distinction of tragedy has been incredibly helpful in defining tragedy as a
literary genre, as well as in developing a better understanding of why tragedy
is regarded as the most universal genre. Contrasting with unrealistic, romantic
characters that are entirely good, or entirely bad, tragedy paints a more
realistic portrait of humanity by emphasizing the mixed nature of individuals,
and by illustrating the flawed world we live in as a result of our own actions.
Furthermore, studying a Greek Tragedy written in 458 BCE alongside a play
written by an Nigerian playwright in 1975 and identifying how these works meet
more than they diverge, shows that by simply being human, despite the era or
part of the world in which we live, we can all relate to the human condition as
imperfect, of mixed nature, and flawed, which establishes the universality of
tragedy. Or as John Buice fluently states in his essay “The Tragic Irony of
Irony in Tragedy,” “Tragedy is a universal expression and explication of our
basic human condition.”
Research Plan: Guerilla Theater
During our second discussion of Wole Soyinka’s
Death and the King’s Horseman, we
learned of Soyinka’s political activities, and it was mentioned briefly that he
was involved with “guerilla theater” in modern Africa. I was immediately
intrigued by the idea of an unexpected theatrical performance in a public space
as a form of political protest, or as a means of raising social awareness, and
became interested in further exploring this subject.
For
this semester’s research project, I plan to do two research posts on guerilla
theater. My first post will center on exploring the origins of the term, the
practice, and the most widely documented or recognized guerilla performances. In
my second research post, I plan to either focus on one guerilla performance
group in particular, such as the feminist activist group “Guerilla Girls,” or
perhaps, explore and survey more generally the extent to which guerilla theater
still thrives in modern societies.
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