The Chorus wants to hear Oedipus's tragic story from the source himself. He doesn't want to talk. He gives the details little by little, and the Chorus is horrified, but he also insists once again that he is no sinner. He additionally confirms that he killed his father Laius, but is innocent of wrongdoing here as well.
Theseus arrives to play let's make a deal-- he has some pity and respect for Oedipus. Oedipus asks that he be protected and buried in Athens. He knows his sons are coming to carry him back to Thebes, but he will not go with them-- not after they banished him while he desired to remain. He knows they are only coming at the urging of an oracle that Oedipus will help them in battle. Oedipus is offering to remain in Athens and so to aid them in battle against Thebes. Theseus finds this silly. There is peace between the cities! But Oedipus explains that all peace is fleeting in the affairs of men. Theseus is happy to oblige Oedipus, but Oedipus begs him to swear an oath for his protection. Done.
Chorus sings the praises of Athens.
Creon arrives to force Oedipus back to Thebes. [He speaks with a nastiness uncharacteristic of him in Oedipus the King, but all too characteristic in Antigone.] Oedipus curses him out for his duplicity. The fight, and Oedipus laughs that he has the protection of all Athens behind him. So Creon changes tactics and seizes the girls Antigone and Ismene instead. Caught completely off guard, the Chorus begs for help. No one saw this coming.
Words exchanged between the men of Thebes and the men of Athens. Creon: "Then it's Thebes and Athens on the battlefield." Oedipus gets a little too excited that his prediction from six pages earlier was correct. Oedipus loses hold of Antigone, his only guide through his dark wanderings. Creon sticks around to put down Oedipus one last time, but when he turns back the men have taken Antigone away and Creon himself is surrounded by the Athenians. He's screwed.
Creon makes one last lunge at Oedipus, but the Athenians hold him back. Theseus arrives with backup.
-------------------------
More and more, Oedipus is proclaiming his innocence of any wrongdoing. It's a respectable defiance in the face his fate, in a way.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Saturday, April 28, 2012
A Modern Utopia (H.G. Wells)
Well, Chesterton is right. Wells's utopia is utterly absurd and entirely unpracticeable. The specific criticism Chesterton had of all utopian dreams was that they "take the greatest difficulty of man and assume it to be overcome, and then give an elaborate account of the overcoming of the smaller ones." In this case, Wells explains the administering of a one-world State without ever explaining how the entire population submitted to the State. He describes the running of a world-class railroad without every addressing by what motivation any group of men actually designed, financed, and physically built the track.
(This insouciance concerning all economic matters, of course, drove me nuts throughout the book. It is not possible for the State to provide to all the people the high standard of living they desire. It must be worked for, and the motivation for that work must come from within. Societies have tried to build a socialist utopia. It don't work.)
Wells does mention the troublesome people who might get in the way of his single-State dream world. But he always dismisses the problem of dealing with them-- either through banishment or, in the case of young undesireables, through death. Simple!
In this, as far as I've gleaned from my other political readings, he typically reflects the views of the early-20th century progressives-- and their sentiments survive in the big-government impulses on the liberal side of the aisle today. (I gotta read Liberal Fascism.)
But the biggest hole in the tale of Utopia is the lack of personal interaction with its residents. There are maybe a total of four conversations with the citizens of Utopia. One is with the narrator's double, in which he learns the rules of the samurai (we must know how the elites behave!), two are with the innkeeper and the government bureaucrat, who are more confused about the narrator's situation than anything else, and the last is with the fellow-traveller who the narrator dismisses as a raving lunatic. That lunatic was simply not happy with the administration of the State, and the narrator pooh-poohed him for it. But surely in the entire world there must be millions who are unhappy with their lives and the way things are. Once again, the simple matter of disagreement-- which surely forms the central difficulty of political life-- is unacknowledged, unaddressed, unsolved. But they've got cool trains, and the fares are free!
The botanist companion leans a little more to the realistic side, however, in that he obsesses over the woman who broke his heart-- even in Utopia, he can't let it go. This will be a source of conflict in any world built by man. And the narrator is exasperated by the botanist's inability to get with the program. Sorry dude, you're just gonna have to to deal with it.
What I can't tell is to what extent the narrator's positions and attitudes are Wells's own. He does give a warning at the outset that the narrator is a fictional character, and when the dream of the Utopia dissolves we are left seeing the narrator as an angry character living in dirty London. But the design of the Utopia can only be a reflection of the author's desires, I think, even if he'd like to hide it.
Appendix
An essay on the limits of philosophy discovered by Wells's coming to logic after having learned evolutionary biology. The crux of his problem is that he does not believe in the objectivity of universals-- all categories are fuzzy, subjective, provisional, and imposed on the world by the human mind. This calls into question most of logic itself, as syllogism only works if categorical statements are possible. Problem number two is the tendency of the mind to take the negation of an idea and turn the negation itself into a positive idea for the purpose of logical analysis. And problem number three is our tendency to only pay attention to certain aspects of our disparate ideas when drawing comparisons between them. Put this all together and you get the impossibility of moral reasoning. And moral argument becomes an argument over mere aesthetic preference, with no proper or superior standard of judgment at all.
But does Wells know any of this? Clearly not, by his own lights. Materialistic philosophy eats itself whole.
My conclusion: If positivistic materialism conflicts with genuine human experience, so much the worse for materialism. And everyone believes this, no matter how "rational" they claim to be.
-------------------------
Incidentally, this is the first entry in the blog I read entirely from a Kindle edition. I've decided that's an acceptable format for quick reads, especially for referred works that aren't classics in and of themselves.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Oedipus At Colonus, 1
Oedipus, old and feeble, wanders with his daughter Antigone. They come upon a town of Athens and ask a passerby their current location. He first chastises them for spoiling the holy ground of the Eumenides [?]-- the "Kindly Ones". At this, Oedipus senses he is at his journey's end. The passerby explains they are in Colonus, ruled by King Theseus. Oedipus asks to speak to some of the townspeople, and the citizen departs.
Alone with Antigone, Oedipus tells of the secret prophecy that he would end his life in a place such as this.
A group of townspeople-- the Chorus-- approaches Oedipus and scolds him for spoiling the holy ground. Antigone helps him outside of the sacred boundary, where he converses with the Chorus. They ask his name, but he is hesitant to make it known. Finally, he mentions Laius, and the Chorus recognize him as the wretched, cursed Oedipus-- and instantly want to banish him from their land. Antigone pleads his case and asks for pity on what is now simply a broken old man. The Chorus demures, and Oedipus stands up for himself-- in the intervening years he has gained some perspective on the horrible fate that befell him. The Chorus is content to allow the city's leader to come and decide what to do.
Oedipus's other daughter Ismene suddenly arrives. She is happy to see her father and sister-- they have had contact over the intervening years-- but brings disturbing news out of Thebes. Both of Oedipus's sons are jealous of Creon's control over the city, and are at war with him and with each other for the throne. The younger Eteocles is in power while the elder Polyneices prepares an army for invasion. They also have an oracle saying Oedipus will return to hand the power of the city to one of them once and for all. Oedipus is incensed-- fie on that! He curses them both. Moreover, he's not too pleased with the whole city of Thebes either. After his initial despair when he blinded himself, he actually got used to the fate that he had been dealt and was somewhat ready to move on. At that moment, the city banished him while his sons sat by and did nothing.
So Oedipus is done with Thebes, and is willing to belong to the city of Colonus now. The Chorus explains a rite of purification he must perform for trespassing on the holy ground, and the prayer he must say to the Eumenides. Ismene performs the rite for him.
--------------------------
Very dramatic, formal, and ceremonial so far. The action might pick up, but it is certainly a more mellow narrative than Sophocles's earlier works.
Alone with Antigone, Oedipus tells of the secret prophecy that he would end his life in a place such as this.
A group of townspeople-- the Chorus-- approaches Oedipus and scolds him for spoiling the holy ground. Antigone helps him outside of the sacred boundary, where he converses with the Chorus. They ask his name, but he is hesitant to make it known. Finally, he mentions Laius, and the Chorus recognize him as the wretched, cursed Oedipus-- and instantly want to banish him from their land. Antigone pleads his case and asks for pity on what is now simply a broken old man. The Chorus demures, and Oedipus stands up for himself-- in the intervening years he has gained some perspective on the horrible fate that befell him. The Chorus is content to allow the city's leader to come and decide what to do.
Oedipus's other daughter Ismene suddenly arrives. She is happy to see her father and sister-- they have had contact over the intervening years-- but brings disturbing news out of Thebes. Both of Oedipus's sons are jealous of Creon's control over the city, and are at war with him and with each other for the throne. The younger Eteocles is in power while the elder Polyneices prepares an army for invasion. They also have an oracle saying Oedipus will return to hand the power of the city to one of them once and for all. Oedipus is incensed-- fie on that! He curses them both. Moreover, he's not too pleased with the whole city of Thebes either. After his initial despair when he blinded himself, he actually got used to the fate that he had been dealt and was somewhat ready to move on. At that moment, the city banished him while his sons sat by and did nothing.
So Oedipus is done with Thebes, and is willing to belong to the city of Colonus now. The Chorus explains a rite of purification he must perform for trespassing on the holy ground, and the prayer he must say to the Eumenides. Ismene performs the rite for him.
--------------------------
Very dramatic, formal, and ceremonial so far. The action might pick up, but it is certainly a more mellow narrative than Sophocles's earlier works.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
The Blatchford Controversies, 4 - The Eternal Heroism Of The Slums
The knock on Christianity is its sordid history of sin and crime. But there is nothing in that sin and crime unique to Christianity. All human institutions have histories riddled with crime, for crime is what happens when humans cling to their strongly held views and try for them to win the day. The worst offender in theis arena is the State itself, the inventor of all the tools of torture.
The difference is that Christianity acknowledges its sin. Its tale of its own origin, in fact, originates in human sin. That sin is the starting point on which the edifice of redemption is built. Unlike many other institutions, Christianity at least offers a remedy for sin.
The rationalists, on the other hand, offer only one solution to the state of humanity: the denial of any personal responsibility for any action at all. Taken in full, this solution will ruin all of human experience. For while it absolves the wrongdoer from any responsibility for wrongs done, it also excludes the good man from any responsibility for virtuous acts. Moreover, the adoption of the materialist philosophy contradicts itself almost instantly:
But the attitude is even more sinister than this. If the rationalist thinks it is up to the upper class to build a society to repair the sin arising out of the lower class, what does this imply? Obviously, that the lower class is morally deficient, incapable of exercising virtue. What a wicked thought. We know that virtue is available to all men-- at times, the knowledge that he is still capable is all that will keep a man going under difficult circumstances. And now the rationalist wants to take away even that hopeful thought, by telling him he bears no responsibility. "So pants this strange comforter, from cell to cell."
Such a philosophy will never last. In time, men will cast it aside in favor of the philosophy that treats them their freedom as men. Christianity correctly offers that philosophy.
The difference is that Christianity acknowledges its sin. Its tale of its own origin, in fact, originates in human sin. That sin is the starting point on which the edifice of redemption is built. Unlike many other institutions, Christianity at least offers a remedy for sin.
The rationalists, on the other hand, offer only one solution to the state of humanity: the denial of any personal responsibility for any action at all. Taken in full, this solution will ruin all of human experience. For while it absolves the wrongdoer from any responsibility for wrongs done, it also excludes the good man from any responsibility for virtuous acts. Moreover, the adoption of the materialist philosophy contradicts itself almost instantly:
[A]lthough people ought not to be blamed for their actions... they ought to be trained to do better. They ought, he said, to be given better conditions of heredity and environment, and then they would be good, and the problem would be solved. The primary answer is obvious. How can one say that a man ought not to be held responsible, but ought to be well trained? For if he "ought" to be well trained, there must be somebody who "ought" to train him. And that man must be held responsible for training him. The proposition has killed itself in three sentences.Even if it fell to some to set up conditions to make all others virtuous there is not a soul who can tell you what the correct, perfect conditions would be. And the reason is simple enough: the proper Utopia could only be built by perfect men. Where are they?
But the attitude is even more sinister than this. If the rationalist thinks it is up to the upper class to build a society to repair the sin arising out of the lower class, what does this imply? Obviously, that the lower class is morally deficient, incapable of exercising virtue. What a wicked thought. We know that virtue is available to all men-- at times, the knowledge that he is still capable is all that will keep a man going under difficult circumstances. And now the rationalist wants to take away even that hopeful thought, by telling him he bears no responsibility. "So pants this strange comforter, from cell to cell."
Such a philosophy will never last. In time, men will cast it aside in favor of the philosophy that treats them their freedom as men. Christianity correctly offers that philosophy.
The Blatchford Controversies, III - Miracles And Modern Civilization
The silliest argument against Christianity is ridicule its claimed miracles, or to suggest that a belief in miracles is contradicted by modern science. Miracles are by definition rare events, and it is not obvious at all that the laws of nature could not produce them in rare circumstances. The real miracle, one not noticed by the rationalists, is the continued existence of things. Their philosophy cannot begin to contemplate such an occurence as this.
Moreover, the use of a concept like a "law of nature" is no kind of explanation at all, but merely an analogous reference to a more familiar item of experience: a law of Parliament. If we are free to choose from among familiar experience in our explanation of the world, the Christian prefers a much richer item to use as an analogy: an act of will. The world emerges from the Father's will in the same way an earthly father begets his offspring. And this is a much richer source for an analogy, as the potential works of this will are much more varied and marvellous than anything a mere law could ever produce.
The current fashion of materialism is just that: mere fashion. Fie on that. It is no argument to say a rational modern judge could not be convinced of Christianity.
And it would be silly for the different religions to deny one another's miracles. Signs and wonders are a universal feature of human experience. The arguments among religions concern doctrine, of course. The vital question is whether a religion has a "true philosophy of the Universe."
--------------------------
At first I read this as just a boring repetition of the fallacy of inductive reasoning, but it's way deeper than that. It's especially interesting that the vaunted "laws of nature" that the rationalist subscribed to were about to be overturned wholesale by quantum physics.
Moreover, the use of a concept like a "law of nature" is no kind of explanation at all, but merely an analogous reference to a more familiar item of experience: a law of Parliament. If we are free to choose from among familiar experience in our explanation of the world, the Christian prefers a much richer item to use as an analogy: an act of will. The world emerges from the Father's will in the same way an earthly father begets his offspring. And this is a much richer source for an analogy, as the potential works of this will are much more varied and marvellous than anything a mere law could ever produce.
The current fashion of materialism is just that: mere fashion. Fie on that. It is no argument to say a rational modern judge could not be convinced of Christianity.
But it does not seem to occur to [Blatchford] that we Christians may not have such an extravagant reverence for English judges as is felt by Mr. Blatchford himself.
The experiences of the Founder of Christianity have perhaps left us in a vague doubt of the infallibility of courts of law.[Burn.]
And it would be silly for the different religions to deny one another's miracles. Signs and wonders are a universal feature of human experience. The arguments among religions concern doctrine, of course. The vital question is whether a religion has a "true philosophy of the Universe."
--------------------------
At first I read this as just a boring repetition of the fallacy of inductive reasoning, but it's way deeper than that. It's especially interesting that the vaunted "laws of nature" that the rationalist subscribed to were about to be overturned wholesale by quantum physics.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Philoctetes, 3
Odysseus arrives, and Philoctetes is enraged: he recognizes that Odysseus has been manipulating Neoptolemus the whole time. Odysseus binds Philoctetes to bring him back to Troy, all the while claiming innocence, as he is only following the will of Zeus in taking the bow. Philoctetes proclaims that he could defy the gods if he wants-- man is free, after all! No dice. In desperation, he threatens to throw himself from the cliff rather than return with Odysseus-- a final defiant free act. Odysseus holds him back. Philoctetes throws all of Odysseus's actions back in his face: Philoctetes was brave in joining the war in the first place, while Odysseus was shifty and two-faced about it. Also, Odysseus had marooned Philoctetes due to his horrible foot wound-- an issue that has not gotten any better, yet he now wants to drag Philoctetes back against his will. Well, the hell with that.
Odysseus decides to leave Philoctetes on the island, since he now has the bow anyway. [This is more trickery. He knows he needs Philoctetes himself, but is trying to play reverse psychology with the threat of abandonment. He'll be back later.] He takes Neoptolemus away and leaves the Chorus soldiers to watch Philoctetes and see if he at last changes his mind.
Philoctetes is despondent again, as he has no hope of surviving alone on the island. He tries to work the Chorus to his side, as they try to convince him to come to Troy. But finally, he resolves to kill himself if they will leave him a weapon. He will join his father and ancestors in the afterlife.
Back at the boat, Neoptolemus demands the bow from Odysseus, as he has resolved to undo his own unjust actions:
Heracles shows up (?!) and explains the true necessity of them both returning to Troy to finish the war together. Philoctetes will be cured, will kill Paris, and will be honored as a hero. Neoptolemus will be by his side, and will survive and flourish as long as he stays holy in the sight of Zeus. Philoctetes finally agrees to fulfill his fate, and leaves for the war.
----------------------------
Closest thing to a happy ending I'm likely to see, probably.
The introduction mentioned the Deus ex machina ending. Sophocles was a hack, apparently.
I like the moral development apparent in the play. Sophocles seems to have concluded that morality is not simply the following of the gods' commands, but is following what is right, whether the gods command it or not. There are objectively good and bad actions regardless of special circumstances, and Neoptolemus ultimately chose to do the right thing. Meanwhile, Odysseus was kind of a sociopath.
On the other hand, in the end the command of the proper kind of authority was enough to get Philoctetes to do what he vowed he would not do. Heracles does command the respect and obedience of Philoctetes, no matter what the command is. But that must only be because Heracles is himself such a moral figure, perhaps worthy of an honor and station even greater than the capricious and untrustworthy Zeus.
Odysseus decides to leave Philoctetes on the island, since he now has the bow anyway. [This is more trickery. He knows he needs Philoctetes himself, but is trying to play reverse psychology with the threat of abandonment. He'll be back later.] He takes Neoptolemus away and leaves the Chorus soldiers to watch Philoctetes and see if he at last changes his mind.
Philoctetes is despondent again, as he has no hope of surviving alone on the island. He tries to work the Chorus to his side, as they try to convince him to come to Troy. But finally, he resolves to kill himself if they will leave him a weapon. He will join his father and ancestors in the afterlife.
Back at the boat, Neoptolemus demands the bow from Odysseus, as he has resolved to undo his own unjust actions:
N: I go to undo the wrong that I have done.Neoptolemus returns the bow to Philoctetes (if only to give him a chance of survival) after much prodding for him to take it-- there's a bit of a trust issue here. Odysseus tries to forbid it, and Philoctetes attempts to strike him down, but Neoptolemus puts a stop to it. Having finally earned his trust, though, Neoptolemus tries once more to convince Philoctetes to come to Troy. First, he explains that Philoctetes' agonizing pain is due to his intrusion on sacred ground, and he does not deserve relief. Then he explains that relief can come only one way, by telling whole prophecy through which the two of them will together finally win the war. Philoctetes won't have it. They argue back and forth, but in the end Neoptolemus agrees to bring Philoctetes back to Greece, as originally promised. Philoctetes promises to protect Neoptolemus there from any revenge the Greeks seek against him. Penance complete. Yippee!
O: A strange thing to say! What wrong was that?
N: I did wrong when I obeyed you and the Greeks.
O: What did we make you do that was unworthy?
N: I practiced craft and treachery with success.
O: On whom? Would you do some rash thing now?
N: Nothing rash. I am going to give something back.
O: What? I am afraid to hear what you will say.
N: Back to the man I took it from, this bow.
O: You cannot mean you are going to give it back.
N: Just that. To my shame, unjustly, I obtained it.
...
N: It was a sin, a shameful sin, which I shall try to retrieve.
O: Have you no fear of the Greeks if you do this?
N: I have no fear of anything you can do,
when I act with justice; nor shall I yield to force
Heracles shows up (?!) and explains the true necessity of them both returning to Troy to finish the war together. Philoctetes will be cured, will kill Paris, and will be honored as a hero. Neoptolemus will be by his side, and will survive and flourish as long as he stays holy in the sight of Zeus. Philoctetes finally agrees to fulfill his fate, and leaves for the war.
----------------------------
Closest thing to a happy ending I'm likely to see, probably.
The introduction mentioned the Deus ex machina ending. Sophocles was a hack, apparently.
I like the moral development apparent in the play. Sophocles seems to have concluded that morality is not simply the following of the gods' commands, but is following what is right, whether the gods command it or not. There are objectively good and bad actions regardless of special circumstances, and Neoptolemus ultimately chose to do the right thing. Meanwhile, Odysseus was kind of a sociopath.
On the other hand, in the end the command of the proper kind of authority was enough to get Philoctetes to do what he vowed he would not do. Heracles does command the respect and obedience of Philoctetes, no matter what the command is. But that must only be because Heracles is himself such a moral figure, perhaps worthy of an honor and station even greater than the capricious and untrustworthy Zeus.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Philoctetes, 2
A sailor arrives to pass on Odysseus's cover story. Pretending that Neoptolemus had fled from Troy, he says he has been sent by Menelaus and Agamemnon to bring him back to battle. Odysseus would be fetching him himself, execpt that he is in the middle of a different search: to find Philoctetes. Neoptolemus isn't happy with this story, as he is losing his nerve to do what he had been ready to do. After dropping the news, the sailor heads back.
Philoctetes is pleased at his opportunity to revenge. His attitude: "Screw 'em all, let's hop on the boat and head home for Greece!" But Neoptolemus is hesitant, and tries to delay because of the weather. But he steels himself and is ready to go. Philoctetes gathers up his few possessions-- including the bow of Heracles, now much admired by Neoptolemus.
The Chorus again laments the horrible fate that has befallen Philoctetes. They point out [and this is new] that he never did anything to deserve the terrible physical pain and abandonment he has experienced. [This might be unique among the Greek tragedy characters up to this point.]
Suddenly, a wave of pain shoots through Philoctetes-- an intermittent additional suffering he must occasionally put up with, he explains. He is more afraid, though, that the spectacle will cause Neoptolemus to leave him, so he downplays it as best he can. In the meantime, he hands over the bow for safekeeping. As the pain grows, though, he asks for Neoptolemus to end it all: to burn his body in the same way Philoctetes burned Heracles's body when he was in similar pain from the poisoned shirt-- the very act that won him the bow in the first place. Neoptolemus promises to stay with him, and the pain gradually subsides, dropping Philoctetes into an exhausted sleep.
Now it is decision time for Neoptolemus and his crew. They have the bow, and the Chorus is urging that they run off with it. Neoptolemus feels the obligation to rescue Philoctetes from his abandonment. For the moment, though, they're more worried that Philoctetes will hear them discussing it.
He awakes, and is ready to go-- and Neoptolemus is ready to take him! But at the very last minute, he hesitates again: "Now is the moment. What shall I do from now on?" Philoctetes is begging him again, but sees the betrayal coming. Neoptolemus explains that it's not even as simple as that. The real problem is that, if he rescues Philoctetes, he won't be taking him home to Greece at all, but will head right back to the war with Troy and the hated Odysseus, Agamemnon, and Menelaus. To Philoctetes, this is far worse than before-- and now Neoptolemus refuses to return the bow, condemning Philoctetes to a lonely, hungry death on the island.
-------------------------
This is horrible.
The tragic figure here turns out to be Neoptolemus, pulled by conflicting duties in at least three directions: to the war, to his promises to Philoctetes, to making sure Odysseus gets what is really coming to him. There's no way out.
I'm glad Sophocles mentioned that Philoctetes hadn't done anything to deserve his fate. It's a good reminder to an audience who sees most characters as bringing their burdens onto themselves. And it may have been a necessary reminder, too, if they weren't paying attention.
There's a clearer indication here of the problems inherent in Odysseus's "cleverness"-- called strategem throughout this translation. Philoctetes laments most of all that he was betrayed in this way. That's the problem. He is OK with perishing through the searing pain-- that is the natural way of things. He would be OK with being bested in battle-- that is one man using natural gifts toward their natural end. But the use of cleverness and guile in such a twisted way is despicable. It is a perversion of the natural goodness of man's gift of intelligence. Nothing could be worse.
One other neat little thing: the conversation between Neoptolemus and the sailor sent by Odysseus is a great example of dramatic irony. They're both using cover stories, keeping Philoctetes in the dark, while Neoptolemus is simultaneously expressing his disgust over the whole charade. Now where have I seen that before?
Thesis: George Costanza is a modern day Odysseus. "It's not a lie, if you believe it."
Philoctetes is pleased at his opportunity to revenge. His attitude: "Screw 'em all, let's hop on the boat and head home for Greece!" But Neoptolemus is hesitant, and tries to delay because of the weather. But he steels himself and is ready to go. Philoctetes gathers up his few possessions-- including the bow of Heracles, now much admired by Neoptolemus.
The Chorus again laments the horrible fate that has befallen Philoctetes. They point out [and this is new] that he never did anything to deserve the terrible physical pain and abandonment he has experienced. [This might be unique among the Greek tragedy characters up to this point.]
Suddenly, a wave of pain shoots through Philoctetes-- an intermittent additional suffering he must occasionally put up with, he explains. He is more afraid, though, that the spectacle will cause Neoptolemus to leave him, so he downplays it as best he can. In the meantime, he hands over the bow for safekeeping. As the pain grows, though, he asks for Neoptolemus to end it all: to burn his body in the same way Philoctetes burned Heracles's body when he was in similar pain from the poisoned shirt-- the very act that won him the bow in the first place. Neoptolemus promises to stay with him, and the pain gradually subsides, dropping Philoctetes into an exhausted sleep.
Now it is decision time for Neoptolemus and his crew. They have the bow, and the Chorus is urging that they run off with it. Neoptolemus feels the obligation to rescue Philoctetes from his abandonment. For the moment, though, they're more worried that Philoctetes will hear them discussing it.
He awakes, and is ready to go-- and Neoptolemus is ready to take him! But at the very last minute, he hesitates again: "Now is the moment. What shall I do from now on?" Philoctetes is begging him again, but sees the betrayal coming. Neoptolemus explains that it's not even as simple as that. The real problem is that, if he rescues Philoctetes, he won't be taking him home to Greece at all, but will head right back to the war with Troy and the hated Odysseus, Agamemnon, and Menelaus. To Philoctetes, this is far worse than before-- and now Neoptolemus refuses to return the bow, condemning Philoctetes to a lonely, hungry death on the island.
-------------------------
This is horrible.
The tragic figure here turns out to be Neoptolemus, pulled by conflicting duties in at least three directions: to the war, to his promises to Philoctetes, to making sure Odysseus gets what is really coming to him. There's no way out.
I'm glad Sophocles mentioned that Philoctetes hadn't done anything to deserve his fate. It's a good reminder to an audience who sees most characters as bringing their burdens onto themselves. And it may have been a necessary reminder, too, if they weren't paying attention.
There's a clearer indication here of the problems inherent in Odysseus's "cleverness"-- called strategem throughout this translation. Philoctetes laments most of all that he was betrayed in this way. That's the problem. He is OK with perishing through the searing pain-- that is the natural way of things. He would be OK with being bested in battle-- that is one man using natural gifts toward their natural end. But the use of cleverness and guile in such a twisted way is despicable. It is a perversion of the natural goodness of man's gift of intelligence. Nothing could be worse.
One other neat little thing: the conversation between Neoptolemus and the sailor sent by Odysseus is a great example of dramatic irony. They're both using cover stories, keeping Philoctetes in the dark, while Neoptolemus is simultaneously expressing his disgust over the whole charade. Now where have I seen that before?
Thesis: George Costanza is a modern day Odysseus. "It's not a lie, if you believe it."
Friday, April 06, 2012
Philoctetes, 1
Odysseus arrives with Neoptolemus, son of slain Achilles, on the island where Philoctetes has been marooned for nine years. He had been hurt on is foot, bitten by a poisonous serpant. The pain was so great, putting him in such great agony, that his wailing was becoming a drag on the Greek parties outside of Troy. Menelaus and Agamemnon instructed Odysseus to maroon him.
Now, Odysseus is back to try to win Philoctetes prized possession, a bow that once belonged to Heracles. The bow is necessary to win the siege of Troy. Odysseus instructs Neoptolemus to win the bow away from Philoctetes by tact and by cunning. Neoptolemus balks at the trickery, but Odysseus explains that he cannot win it back himself, that the bow is needed for Neoptolemus himself to win the final battle, and that Neoptolemus will be doubly revered back at the camp if he succeeds. The sweet-talking works. Odyssues also sets up a back-up plan: if too much time passes, he will send another sailor in disguise to try another tack. Odysseus returns to the boat.
With additional soldiers in support (playing the Chorus), Neoptolemus waits for Philoctetes to appear. They here a cripple coming back to the cave-dwelling, and are shocked by the wretched life he must lead. Philoctetes arrives and questions the strangers. Neoptolemus introduces himself-- they've never met before, he coming late to the war. Philoctetes expounds on his own circumstances and curses Agaememnon, Menelaus, and Odysseus as he tells of his marooning and his subsequent terrible life. He tells of visitors who take pity on him and leave food and supplies, but none will take him home. The Chorus is moved to pity.
Neoptolemus explains further his own situation. He tells of his anger at Odysseus, which is the story Odysseus instructed him to tell-- though it is not at all clear that the anger isn't genuine. After Achilles' death, he expected to receive his father's armor, but it was given to Odysseus instead. He, too, [says he] hates Agamemnon, Menelaus, and Odysseus with a burning passion.
Philoctetes is confused by the power-play, but Neoptolemus explains that Ajax was not around to stop it-- he's dead. Along with Antilochus and Patroclus. The group laments that war seems to take the best and brightest, while letting the devious like Odysseus to live. Philoctetes also asks of the fate of Thersites [?], who seems to be still alive.
Neoptolemus is ready to go, but Philoctetes begs him for passage off the island. Literally begs. The Chorus, moved once again, assents to his request. Neoptolemus is moved as well, and agrees. Philoctetes is overjoyed.
But one of the sailors from back on the boat arrives in disguise, presumably sent by Odysseus.
---------------------------
I'm not doing justice to the emotional impact of the conversations so far. Philoctetes horrible fate is genuinely moving, and as the play progresses we can see the effect he has on the other characters. Neoptolemus and the Chorus were not planning at all to rescue Philoctetes from the island, but in meeting him they felt they had no choice. It was the only decent thing to do. And we can sense Neoptolemus is turning on Odysseus little by little.
Speaking of, Odysseus's cleverness is far more pronouned in this play than it has been in his other appearances, it seems to me. I never got the sense in the Iliad that it was all that impressive, except that Homer kept saying that it was. In the Odyssey, I just looked at him as playing the hero. But here, his deviousness has taken on a much more sinister quality. So far, it looks like Odysseus is the villain.
This is a consequence, I think, of Sophocles vastly different attitude toward war than that of Homer. Where Homer praised war-making qualities, Sophocles is much more focused on the tragic consequences of war-- the experience of the Greeks in the previous century would probably do that to a guy. Therefore, those who excel at war so successfully can't actually be all that great. And so we see Odysseus about to royally screw what appears to be a noble gesture.
Now, Odysseus is back to try to win Philoctetes prized possession, a bow that once belonged to Heracles. The bow is necessary to win the siege of Troy. Odysseus instructs Neoptolemus to win the bow away from Philoctetes by tact and by cunning. Neoptolemus balks at the trickery, but Odysseus explains that he cannot win it back himself, that the bow is needed for Neoptolemus himself to win the final battle, and that Neoptolemus will be doubly revered back at the camp if he succeeds. The sweet-talking works. Odyssues also sets up a back-up plan: if too much time passes, he will send another sailor in disguise to try another tack. Odysseus returns to the boat.
With additional soldiers in support (playing the Chorus), Neoptolemus waits for Philoctetes to appear. They here a cripple coming back to the cave-dwelling, and are shocked by the wretched life he must lead. Philoctetes arrives and questions the strangers. Neoptolemus introduces himself-- they've never met before, he coming late to the war. Philoctetes expounds on his own circumstances and curses Agaememnon, Menelaus, and Odysseus as he tells of his marooning and his subsequent terrible life. He tells of visitors who take pity on him and leave food and supplies, but none will take him home. The Chorus is moved to pity.
Neoptolemus explains further his own situation. He tells of his anger at Odysseus, which is the story Odysseus instructed him to tell-- though it is not at all clear that the anger isn't genuine. After Achilles' death, he expected to receive his father's armor, but it was given to Odysseus instead. He, too, [says he] hates Agamemnon, Menelaus, and Odysseus with a burning passion.
Philoctetes is confused by the power-play, but Neoptolemus explains that Ajax was not around to stop it-- he's dead. Along with Antilochus and Patroclus. The group laments that war seems to take the best and brightest, while letting the devious like Odysseus to live. Philoctetes also asks of the fate of Thersites [?], who seems to be still alive.
Neoptolemus is ready to go, but Philoctetes begs him for passage off the island. Literally begs. The Chorus, moved once again, assents to his request. Neoptolemus is moved as well, and agrees. Philoctetes is overjoyed.
But one of the sailors from back on the boat arrives in disguise, presumably sent by Odysseus.
---------------------------
I'm not doing justice to the emotional impact of the conversations so far. Philoctetes horrible fate is genuinely moving, and as the play progresses we can see the effect he has on the other characters. Neoptolemus and the Chorus were not planning at all to rescue Philoctetes from the island, but in meeting him they felt they had no choice. It was the only decent thing to do. And we can sense Neoptolemus is turning on Odysseus little by little.
Speaking of, Odysseus's cleverness is far more pronouned in this play than it has been in his other appearances, it seems to me. I never got the sense in the Iliad that it was all that impressive, except that Homer kept saying that it was. In the Odyssey, I just looked at him as playing the hero. But here, his deviousness has taken on a much more sinister quality. So far, it looks like Odysseus is the villain.
This is a consequence, I think, of Sophocles vastly different attitude toward war than that of Homer. Where Homer praised war-making qualities, Sophocles is much more focused on the tragic consequences of war-- the experience of the Greeks in the previous century would probably do that to a guy. Therefore, those who excel at war so successfully can't actually be all that great. And so we see Odysseus about to royally screw what appears to be a noble gesture.
Monday, April 02, 2012
The Blatchford Controversies, II - Why I Believe In Christianity
Two facts of note: First, Christianity rose and spread within a very modern world, in that the Romans had a highly developed rational philosophy. But it spread anyway. Second, the Christian world advanced by leaps and bounds beyond the non-Christian world.
Secularists ridicule what they see as central contradictions at the core of Christian belief, but we should examine the nature of the contradiction. The easiest way to avoid contradiction in belief is to proclaim agnosticism, but it is entirely unworkable. As a practical matter, simply to get through the day, we must commit ourselves to one philosophy or to another. If nothing else, we must decide to hold or not to hold others responsible for their actions. The secularist tries to deny free will, but knows that he must behave in everyday life as if it were real. Why can we not ridicule that contradiction, lived every day? Whereas a Christian who professes free will recognizes the difficulty in the position, sees no other way, embraces the contradiction, calls it mystery-- and puts it at the center of his life. Can we not respect the honesty? Especially considering that that philosophy has all the success.
Alternatives: We can respect the beautiful natural world as our creator, but at some point we will ask, then why not go to war as the birds do? Or we can recognize that problem, throw up our hands, and call the universe absurd. Then why continue to try to make our way through the world, assert ourselves against that universe?
Or, we can appreciate the birds as birds while we recognize man as man, with all the baggage and difficulty that comes with that declaration. And as we do so, we can proclaim that the God who made the birds birds Himself became man. And we will know we have solved the dilemma, even as the new path is full of contradiction.
Finally, the whole secularist program actually reaffirms Christian theology. While they proclaim the march of progress, progress can only be recognized as a movement toward a higher state. But actually recognizing a higher state as being higher requires an overall orientation that a barren universe does not provide. The Christian story of the Fall leading to the Resurrection, on the other hand, is the template of against which all progress is judged. The concept of a good human nature that can either be fallen short of or successfully pursued requires, at some point, the reality of that good state.
-----------------------------
Five pages. Holy crap.
Secularists ridicule what they see as central contradictions at the core of Christian belief, but we should examine the nature of the contradiction. The easiest way to avoid contradiction in belief is to proclaim agnosticism, but it is entirely unworkable. As a practical matter, simply to get through the day, we must commit ourselves to one philosophy or to another. If nothing else, we must decide to hold or not to hold others responsible for their actions. The secularist tries to deny free will, but knows that he must behave in everyday life as if it were real. Why can we not ridicule that contradiction, lived every day? Whereas a Christian who professes free will recognizes the difficulty in the position, sees no other way, embraces the contradiction, calls it mystery-- and puts it at the center of his life. Can we not respect the honesty? Especially considering that that philosophy has all the success.
Alternatives: We can respect the beautiful natural world as our creator, but at some point we will ask, then why not go to war as the birds do? Or we can recognize that problem, throw up our hands, and call the universe absurd. Then why continue to try to make our way through the world, assert ourselves against that universe?
Or, we can appreciate the birds as birds while we recognize man as man, with all the baggage and difficulty that comes with that declaration. And as we do so, we can proclaim that the God who made the birds birds Himself became man. And we will know we have solved the dilemma, even as the new path is full of contradiction.
Finally, the whole secularist program actually reaffirms Christian theology. While they proclaim the march of progress, progress can only be recognized as a movement toward a higher state. But actually recognizing a higher state as being higher requires an overall orientation that a barren universe does not provide. The Christian story of the Fall leading to the Resurrection, on the other hand, is the template of against which all progress is judged. The concept of a good human nature that can either be fallen short of or successfully pursued requires, at some point, the reality of that good state.
-----------------------------
Five pages. Holy crap.
The Blatchford Controversies, I - Christianity And Rationalism
Four arguments are typically given, and specifically offered by Robert Blatchford, for the rejection of Christianity as false and absurd. But the critical facts cited wihin each argument can just as easily buttress a sincere belief in Christianity.
1. The legend of a divine savior is common among many ancient and contemporary cultures, and is not unique to Christianity. Answer: This does not suggest the impossibility of a divine savior, but rather that human existence is aimed toward its own redemption by a divine savior. Just as a long and varied pedigree of tales of love and tales of revenge do not suggest the absurdity of such a thing as love and revenge, but instead highlight the centrality of such emotions and actions to genuine human existence.
2. Ascetic devotion to Christianity abandons its practitioners to a barren existence empty of other human pleasures. Answer: It certainly must be a powerfully attractive force that would draw the absolute attention of its devotees in such a way as this. In a crasser, but parallel example, we recognize that the destruction caused by alcoholism is due to the powerful hold the drink has on the drinker. We don't conclude from the addiction that the alcoholic is hallucinating his own intake of drink, but that the feeling of drunkenness is entirely, frightfully real.
3. Commitment to religious tenets has produced terrible war, abject suffering, and the worst forms of cruelty. Answer: Humans being what they are, our worst offenses always emerge out of our attempts to protect what we love best-- nearly every murder and robbery in history is undertaken in pursuit of a "noble" goal, and human religion cannot be immune from the flaws of humanity. In a more recent analogy, the terrors of the French Revolution grew from devotion to Liberty, Egality, and Fraternity. Terrible actions don't undermine the truth of their central goodness. And what is more, the injection of such a greater Truth into human society would well lead to even harsher responses from us weak humans who are ill-equipped to deal with such greatness.
4. Hebrew and Christian religions trace back to particular, local, tribal groups and simplistic primitive events. Answer: How else could human beings experience the divine, and then communicate that experience, except through the same means and patterns as their experience of their familiar local world? A human who expresses a full-formed, logical conception of the infinite goodness of God full stop is surely making it up, for humans are not wired to gain knowledge in this way.
These arguments that were offered against Christianity, then, were not arguments at all, but mere observations. And mere observations can always be used to lead to opposing conclusions. The Secularists have entirely avoided, however, the most powerful arguments in favor of Christianity-- they will follow. Furthermore, those who won't be swayed by the four arguments above only remain unmoved due to their steadfast devotion to the central tenets of their own secularist orthodoxy. Ironically impressive.
----------------------------
Time to get back on the Chesterton horse. I'm re-reading the chapters in Heretics that I read months ago, but it's worthwhile to also get a handle on the background arguments that led to him write the book in the first place. The Blatchford Controversies are the third selection in the Collected Works Volume 1.
The biggest difference between the use of the cited facts by Chesterton and their use by the secularists is Chesterton's willingness to observe human behavior as its own whole, ontologically basic thing. In all four cases, the secularists argue away human responses as the mere agglomerated, non-meaningful end results of unthinking, unfeeling physical and material processes-- processes whose bizarre end results obviously can tell us nothing about some weird spiritual realm that doesn't really exist in the first place. It is central to the argument of determinism that human existence has no genuine purpose, while Chesterton takes the purposefulness of human existence (and the personal internal experience of that purposefulness) as absolutely central and reads the reality of spiritualness back from that. And then experiences great joy out of his conclusions.
1. The legend of a divine savior is common among many ancient and contemporary cultures, and is not unique to Christianity. Answer: This does not suggest the impossibility of a divine savior, but rather that human existence is aimed toward its own redemption by a divine savior. Just as a long and varied pedigree of tales of love and tales of revenge do not suggest the absurdity of such a thing as love and revenge, but instead highlight the centrality of such emotions and actions to genuine human existence.
2. Ascetic devotion to Christianity abandons its practitioners to a barren existence empty of other human pleasures. Answer: It certainly must be a powerfully attractive force that would draw the absolute attention of its devotees in such a way as this. In a crasser, but parallel example, we recognize that the destruction caused by alcoholism is due to the powerful hold the drink has on the drinker. We don't conclude from the addiction that the alcoholic is hallucinating his own intake of drink, but that the feeling of drunkenness is entirely, frightfully real.
3. Commitment to religious tenets has produced terrible war, abject suffering, and the worst forms of cruelty. Answer: Humans being what they are, our worst offenses always emerge out of our attempts to protect what we love best-- nearly every murder and robbery in history is undertaken in pursuit of a "noble" goal, and human religion cannot be immune from the flaws of humanity. In a more recent analogy, the terrors of the French Revolution grew from devotion to Liberty, Egality, and Fraternity. Terrible actions don't undermine the truth of their central goodness. And what is more, the injection of such a greater Truth into human society would well lead to even harsher responses from us weak humans who are ill-equipped to deal with such greatness.
4. Hebrew and Christian religions trace back to particular, local, tribal groups and simplistic primitive events. Answer: How else could human beings experience the divine, and then communicate that experience, except through the same means and patterns as their experience of their familiar local world? A human who expresses a full-formed, logical conception of the infinite goodness of God full stop is surely making it up, for humans are not wired to gain knowledge in this way.
These arguments that were offered against Christianity, then, were not arguments at all, but mere observations. And mere observations can always be used to lead to opposing conclusions. The Secularists have entirely avoided, however, the most powerful arguments in favor of Christianity-- they will follow. Furthermore, those who won't be swayed by the four arguments above only remain unmoved due to their steadfast devotion to the central tenets of their own secularist orthodoxy. Ironically impressive.
----------------------------
Time to get back on the Chesterton horse. I'm re-reading the chapters in Heretics that I read months ago, but it's worthwhile to also get a handle on the background arguments that led to him write the book in the first place. The Blatchford Controversies are the third selection in the Collected Works Volume 1.
The biggest difference between the use of the cited facts by Chesterton and their use by the secularists is Chesterton's willingness to observe human behavior as its own whole, ontologically basic thing. In all four cases, the secularists argue away human responses as the mere agglomerated, non-meaningful end results of unthinking, unfeeling physical and material processes-- processes whose bizarre end results obviously can tell us nothing about some weird spiritual realm that doesn't really exist in the first place. It is central to the argument of determinism that human existence has no genuine purpose, while Chesterton takes the purposefulness of human existence (and the personal internal experience of that purposefulness) as absolutely central and reads the reality of spiritualness back from that. And then experiences great joy out of his conclusions.
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