• Sophocles’ ‘Antigone’ and the consequences of death

    Sophocles portrays the concept of death in Antigone as both a sacred and dreaded fate which embodies the conflict between godly law and human law, exploring the consequences of death depending on its treatment.  

     

    In the play Antigone, Sophocles portrays death as something beyond the limits of human control. Antigone, as a tragedy is inevitably concerned with death. Although more than this death as a catalyst to the plays theme of death presented from two sides, one political and opposingly as something personal and sacred. The titular character Antigone treats the burial after the death of her brother Polynices as something morally owed, shown through her insistence on his burial after his body is left unburied on the battlefield. This is in direct opposition to Creon’s orders to leave the body on the battlefield. As Creon views the burial as a disobedience to the state. In this conflict between the two characters, Sophocles presents death as both something believed to be divine and as something controllable by law. However, in the play, death is also shown to not only be the ending to one life, but to change the life of the still living through grief and guilt. Sophocles portrays death in Antigone through showing the conflict between the desire for control over it and divine law, and the ultimate undeniability of what the loss of life does not only to the person who dies, but to the people who remain alive.  

    Sophocles’ Antigone, set in Ancient Greece explores a reality where burial rites were an essential part of ensuring a soul’s transition to the afterlife. Therefore, to deny a burial was to condemn the dead to an unnatural passing and directly violate the divine law. Through this context of the play, Sophocles presents death as something sacred and enforceable instead of a tool used to gain political power or control. This is evident through Creon’s treatment of Polyneices’ body following his death in the battle of Thebes. Naming him as a traitor, Creon demands that his body be left ‘unwept and unburied’. The repetition of ‘un’ not only strips Polynices of the ritualistic nature of a proper burial but of humanity as it recognises no mourning for the loss of the soul and therefore no recognition of a life lived. Through the deliberate use of his language, Sophocles uses the corpse as a political tool and a symbol for Creon, therefore suggesting that his public authority relies on the manipulation of honour of death. For an audience at this time, Creon’s denial would create a strong sense of dread as it not only symbolises Creon’s view on death, but a larger theme of violating divine laws. Through this, Creon represents an exaggerated pride in himself, whereas the character Antigone represents a moral integrity, demonstrating the belief that all, despite their actions are worthy of a sacred burial. Antigone being so willing to defy Creon’s law despite repercussions demonstrate the hierarchy of the divine law over the human law and explores the limitations of Creon’s beliefs. Through the conflicting views of Creon and Antigone, Sophocles portrays death as something used as an attempt to gain control over the living, but ultimately the refusal to honour death. 

    Sophocles portrays death in Antigone as more than an eding of life. Death is protrayed as a political symbol and a attemped weapon for control, specifically at the hands of Creon. In the play, Sophocles blurs the line between death and life by confining Antigone in a tomb. A tomb, origionally used to honour death had turned it into a cage for the the living. Through doing so Sophocles suggests that death is not only a physical ending but a tool for political authority. Antigone which not only blurs the line between life and death but explores the inevitable death she will come to face. Sophocles uses the separation of the characters to further construct the idea that because there is physical distance between Creon and Antigone, Creon is not responsible for her death. However, because of Antigone is deliberatly deprived of food and water at the order of Creon, her death is ultimately a politically imposed fate and unavoidable. Antigone’s death will be a result of Creon’s actions. His action is an attempt to manipulate mortality while not being directly responsible for her life. By putting her in a position of inevitable death, Sophocles ensures that Antigone stands somewhere between being fully living and fully dead, meaning that Creon is still manipulating death without being completely guilty at her eventual end. The entrapment inside the tomb symbolises the inevitability of her death, as to the outside, Antigone can be seen as dead even if she is technically not. Therefore, Sophocles conveys the concept of death not purely as a physical act but as an idea of inevitability at the hands of power. Although Creon never admits his direct part in the deaths of Antigone and later the deaths of Haemon or Eurydice, they are all repercussions of Creon’s greed and perpetual desire for authority that make these deaths unavoidable. Hence, Sophocles explores the responsibility a person can hold for death when greed overwhelms them, despite the distance they may try to create. 

    Sophocles finally explores death as a consequence of pride. He portrays death in Antigone as more than an eding of life. Death is protrayed as something with the power of inflicting guilt, pain, and ultimatly shaping much of what we know human resposibility is and the intertwined nature of love and loss and death as having the power to inflict guilt and pain and ultimately shift one’s perspective on life. This is explored as the deaths of both Antigone and Haemon expose the consequences of Creon’s pride. Antigone’s death, although partially a consequence of Creon’s command, was done with a sense of autonomy. Ultimately, she chooses to die at her own hands, giving in to the divine law rather than a human one. Therefore, her death acts as an act of rebellion against Creon’s authority. However, because of the love between Haemon and Antigone, her death leads to his eventual suicide. This shows how Creon’s actions lead to the suffering of the person directly affected, but also people damaged by her death, such as Haemon. Haemon’s death shows the devastation that a death can cause to a family, all at the hands of Creon, and it marks the collapse of Creon’s reign, not only as a political figure but as a father. Because of the chain reaction of suffering Antigone’s death caused, Eurydice, unable to deal with the grief of her son’s death, dies too, leaving Creon ruined only because of his own actions. Through the immense grief experienced by the characters, caused by one death at the hands of Creon, Sophocles suggests death is not only an end, but a tragedy that has the power to dismantle authority and human law such as Creon’s.  

    In Antigone, Sophocles portrays the concept of death as something more powerful than just the end of a life. It is presented as a divine force, and out of the hands of human law. Through the treatment of Polyneices’ body after his death, Antigone’s entrapment in the tomb and the devastation following the deaths of Antigone and Haemon, Sophocles explores how death is powerful yet is never a tool to be used in the hands of human authority. Instead of death providing Creon with more power, his attempt at deadly punishment only leaves him with immense suffering and guilt and causes destruction. Through this, Antigone presents death as powerful and destructive. It is a force that should be respected and not controlled, otherwise, the outcome will not be gaining authority but will result in tragedy.

  • A response to Aravind Adiga’s White Tiger

    The voice of Pinky Madame:

    I put my finger to my lips. He must be quiet; he must make sure no one finds out. I clutch my bag tightly in my hands until my knuckles turn white. I feel no remorse for the life I am leaving behind, as I tell him to just drive. My heart is full of contempt for this filthy place. It does nothing but restrict me. I will no longer live with this feeling of oppression.

    My husband.

    What a fucking joke that marriage was from the start. I thought he was different from the other men. He was educated in America, as evidenced by the way he spoke. Like an intellectual. No, he was just like the others. So full of it, when really all he could give me was his dirty coal money. He trapped me in that house, forced me to play the perfect Indian wife. I married an illusion of a man. He turned into the shit he pretended to hate. Nothing he said was ever true, and no amount of begging would ever change it. He would never take me back to America, no matter how much I pleaded. He loved India; I would never understand, nor did I want to, because I hate this place. He has held me down for far too long, keeping me stuck here.

    I know it will ruin him, me leaving. Ruin his family.

    I know it will ruin that bastard driver, too. If it could get any worse for him. I do not care. That sister fucker belongs here. His dirty hands on the wheel. I hate how his eyes dart around when we drive, taking in the trash-covered streets, just like every other lowlife servant here. It’s a breeding ground for people like him and Ashok, different but the same. They pull you in with their tricks, and then they trap you in a cage of control. Keeping me locked up with the other spineless women. Let them rot here. Stuck like animals in their little Rooster Coop.

    There is a distant cry of a crow. The car is dark, dingy, like the rest of this godforsaken place. How happy I am to leave. With each mile that passes, I feel my freedom slowly creeping back into me. I can feel myself regain the strength this place has stripped my very soul of.

    The airport was loud as the car pulled up, the last bit of India’s eternal tantrum. Announcements echoed in broken English. Families shouted around me over the distant sounds of plane engines. The reeked smelled of cheap perfume, nothing I would ever wear.My escape was coming; it was so close. 

    “Here”, I snapped at him. Balram turned, and I reached out my hand. Inside my palm lay a small brown envelope. It was money. Enough money to keep him silent.

    He mumbled some “Thank you, madam” and then turned away, but I could see his eyes follow me in the mirror, that hawking gaze as I got out of the back seat. I could see the resentment in his eyes.

  • A response to Albert Camus’s ‘The Outsider’

    Unnamed ‘Arab man’s’ spirit:

    Here is my backstory: I was born March 16th, 1915. I lived 26 years on this earth, and my name was Rachid Bouzar.

    I lived a life of societal humiliation, existing in a system of oppression, discrimination and by the end of my short life, I had no doubt in my mind that survival in this violent world meant fighting. I am human, my actions are shaped by my experiences, and my actions are not a result of inherent aggression, but a realization that to live in this society that rejects all form of justice for me and my family means to fight.

    On august 17th 1941 I was killed at the hands of an empty man, Meursault. I was a human, not just a body, I lived as much as any man on this earth. If the sun is a reason to end a man’s life, then you have no understanding of justice. I am not just a lifeless body in the sand, nor a man with no name. The sun did not shoot me that day. Nature did not instruct you to end my life Meursault, you decided to. My body tore as your bullet pierced my skin. Once, taking my life. Then three more times, taking my humanity. Yet this court searches for answers on who shot me, so you question the sun over the man who pulled the trigger.

    Four times. I stand here fighting for this court room to understand that the answer to my murder will not be found in the sky. I will not stand before you, allowing you to accept that my life can be taken at the hands of this empty man and blamed on the heat. I implore you to see that although being put on this world may have no meaning, taking another a man’s life is never meaningless, and justice must be served. I demand to be more than a man with no name, more than a body on the sand and, even in death, I demand for the world to know my life will not be taken in vain, and certainly not taken because my red-hot blade hurt his eyes. My life was taken because this man put my existence second to comfort. I was a soul capable of knowing

    more of life than he will ever understand, he is an empty man. Your violence, hatred and disregard for

    another man’s life has silenced me for good and I will never take another breath, I will never love

    another or lay under the sun. You do not know me. In your eyes I am nobody, there are no words this man

    has used to describe me, but I was someone.