The Cleansing of Politics:

stopping the violence means rejecting the gods and taking responsibility

In theater, especially tragedy, there is a moment called “catharsis” which is defined as the purging of emotions such as pity or fear or hate.

Yesterday, Bernie and I attended the Shakespeare Theatre Company performance of The Oresteia, a rewriting of the Greek trilogy by Aesculus by Ellen McLaughlin. Just as Aesculus wrote for his time, so was this re-presentation written for our time. This is a powerful drama that I wish every American citizen could and would see.

I have participated in the Great American political depression since the last presidential election. A would-be tyrant who blames and shames all others — especially strangers, asylum seekers, foreign leaders and all those who do not praise him. I have experienced the hate, fear, and pity that he has aroused in me. I have looked for its causes in our history, our economic system, and our politics. Lately I have read and meditated on the divided soul of America or what is sometimes called the American dream or ideal or civic religion.

All this helped. But seeing the Oresteia was the crowning and best remedy for my depression.

The ancient story of the Oresteia is that of King Agamemnon of the House of Atreus who led the combined military of the Greeks to suffer and inflict 10 years of devastating slaughter in Troy. This was in response to Paris of Troy taking the unfaithful Helen from his brother King Menelaus of Mycenae. And it was after Agamemnon slew his daughter as a sacrifice to the gods for favorable winds. When Agamemnon comes home, his queen Clytemnestra kills him and his captive Trojan mistress to avenge her daughter. Her son Orestes, whom she had sent away after killing his father, returns home after ten more years and, inspired by the god Apollo, kills his mother to be violently pursued by the punishing Furies. Violence breeding more violence is the enduring Curse on the House of Atreus. Now the people who have seen the unfolding of the whole tragedy decide to pass judgment on Orestes. Orestes, without father, mother, or gods, agrees to accept their judgment. Hearing Orestes’ defense and acknowledging their own negligence in stopping the violence, the assembled people agree to exonerate him thus ending the Curse of violence.

Aeschylus wrote the Oresteia as Athens was rejecting tyranny and turning to democracy, becoming a model of civil society for history. They were opening their public square to immigrants and strangers, tolerating and learning from their different cultures. They were substituting the rule of law over the rule of might. This is the transition from tribal order to civilization, from justice as payback or retribution to justice as restoration and reconciliation, from a tyranny that exerts violence to a democracy based on equality, assembly, speech, and compassion.

The notes on the Oresteia by Peter Meineck, Professor of Classics at New York University, states how tragedy grew as old aristocratic systems, “organized around familial ties and reciprocity, were being transformed into new systems of democratic government. People expected to fight in the wars of the aristocrats demanded a greater share of political power. The theater became a place where the common people could feel and think differently, share emotions in a collective experience. The theater was connected to the ability of the citizenry “to comprehend different points of view in order to offer better political solutions.” Drama was “a collective consciousness constantly refining a position into a new idea — what the Greeks called eikosor possibility.”The Oresteiais an indictment on the perils of authoritarian leadership, “so often mired in personal insecurities and self-doubt which can provoke the tyrant in irrational acts of cruelty and aggression.” It becomes a “new foundation myth for Athens, one that involves the establishment of a new judicial process.”

The writer and the director of The Oresteia recognize that force and violence have been intricately connected to the human condition. They do not deny that evolutionary biology has favored those with the most power. The “selfish gene” is selected to favor the strongest. Their drama does not forget that human history is a history of violence on violence. But they point to the moment when power becomes not physical might, but collaborative behavior. And history can be shaped by people acting in concert, rather than by individuals of physical prowess forcing their will.

Those of us who understand tragedy recognize its connection to democracy. We do not blame the heavenly gods but see the forces, which we have projected outside, within us, not singly but collectively. We no longer blame the king or tyrant who perpetuates the way of violence but recognize that the tyrant is of our own making. We get rid of the gods and take responsibility.

Tragedy, and its pain that we share, allows us to understand our intimate link with all our neighbors, comrades and strangers, within the human condition. Our shared feelings of hatred, shame, pity and pain point to our bonds of solidarity and obligation. We get rid of the gods and take responsibility. We accept and exercise our ability to act. The “higher powers” are not the gods out there, but us acting in concert.

In the last scenes of the Oresteia, the chorus who represents us, the former bystander people, speaks of a place where we can come together to argue our points of view, our personal truths as we see them and fashion an idea which we can accept for now. It is here that we recognize each other as divinities, i.e. transcending humans, and respect one another. In the words of the writer: “Only by bringing us all into the same place — and hearing the truth if we can speak it — can we heal.”

At this point I experienced my catharsis. My cleansing from the bloody crimes of the history which has made me and lives on in me. I began to reject the American gods of Might, Money, and Mine. I choose to no longer blame others including the haters and blamers, the leaders and the followers. I will castigate neither the poor nor the wealthy, neither the winners nor the losers. Nor will I accuse “the other side” or the gods of our own creation. I am one with them all; and with them, we will hold all of us responsible for what we are and for what we can be.

In her notes, the writer, Ellen McLaughlin, refers to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa. “It is not about absolution, it’s not about forgiveness, though that can sometimes happen. It is simply about gathering in a public space open to all. Everyone concerned, both the victims and the perpetrators, is present. Nothing is promised, but all will be heard. Everybody gets to speak their truth. And in so doing, we, all of us, recognize each other.”

Orestes, heir to the throne of Agamemnon, in accepting the judgment of the people both confesses his responsibility and relinquishes the throne to the people. The people in judgment on Orestes are also in judgment on themselves and accept their responsibility to end the circle of violence and expand the circle of peace. Justice is no longer retribution or punishment; it is restoration and reconciliation.

This is what tragedy does and so it points to the essence of democratic politics. The theater is the extension of public space where citizens appear to one another and are respected as equals.

I do not know whether American democracy will survive. Presently it seems to be flailing as did Athenian democracy back when the Oresteia was first written. I do not know whether the human species will use our ability to transcend the habits of violence and the beliefs that reinforce them. American history, like the history of most of the world nations, abounds in crimes against humanity, most of which we will not acknowledge and so cannot transcend.

Human history is replete with prophets who have spoken the way out of our curse of nature often in dark times of tyranny, exile, slavery, and empire. Many of them, like Cassandra, were not to be believed. Their message was distorted by the very people who claimed to be their followers.

I do know that we cannot put our hope in the gods out there but rather in the divine capacity to transcend with which every human is born. To stop the violence, never justifiable and even when deemed necessary, we need to reject the gods and take responsibility for our world and each other. We do not pray for peace; we make it, in our own time and place. This will be the cleansing from the admitted crimes we have committed against humanity, our earth, and ourselves. It will also be the new step to the enlightened transcending consciousness which could be our destiny should we choose. It is here we find our eikos, our possibility.