Greek Tragedy and Contemporary Democracy

209 Pages·2012·0.83 MB·English

by  Mark Chou

Greek Tragedy and Contemporary
Democracy
ii
Greek Tragedy and Contemporary
Democracy
Mark Chou
NEW YORK • LONDON • NEW DELHI • SYDNEY
Bloomsbury Academic
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www.bloomsbury.com
First published 2012
© Mark Chou, 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
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No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on or
refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can be
accepted by Bloomsbury Academic or the author.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
ISBN: HB: 978-1-4411-7188-7
e-ISBN: 978-1-4411-7830-5
Typeset by Deanta Global Publishing Services, Chennai, India
Contents
Acknowledgements vii
Introduction: Democracy and Tragedy 1
1 Democracy and Tragedy in Ancient Athens 23
2 A Multivocal Democracy: The Democratic Impact of Tragedy’s
Multivocal Form in Ancient Athens and Today 51
3 Dramatizing Democracy: Introducing Aeschylus’ Suppliants 79
4 Marginal Women, Marginalized Stories: Democracy and the
Politics of Fifth-Century Supplication 93
5 Civilization and Violence: A New Vision for Contemporary
Democracy 115
6 Towards a Multivocal Democracy 137
Notes 153
Bibliography 181
Index 197
vi
Acknowledgements
Before beginning, a short word of thanks to the handful of individuals whose
kindness and encouragement made this work possible. First, I am indebted to
Roland Bleiker, a mentor and friend in the truest sense. Second, to the small
group of scholars and friends who urged me to go on when all I wanted to do
is stop. Here, I’d particularly like to thank Seb Kaempf, Emma Hutchison, Luke
Glanville, Katrina Lee-Koo, Michael Ure, Robin Cameron, Tim Aistrope, Heloise
Weber, Richard Devetak, and of course Leah Aylward. The names of these indi-
viduals may be absent from the pages that follow. But their influence is not.
This book has now gone through more drafts than I can remember. But
imperfect as it remains in content and in form, a fault that is mine alone, it is
what it is today only because individuals like Stephen Chan, Costas Constanti-
nou, Kim Huynh, and a select anonymous few took the time to give what they
could to help me see what I had not seen. I will always be in your debt.
I’d also like to take this opportunity to acknowledge Marie-Claire Antoine,
my editor at Continuum, who gladly took this project on; the School of Politi-
cal Science and International Studies at the University of Queensland and the
School of Social and Political Sciences at the University of Melbourne where this
project first began and is now drawing to an end; and the McKenzie Postdoctoral
Fellowship scheme at the University of Melbourne which gave me the time and
space to complete this project.
Finally, none of this could have been possible without my family, who con-
tinue to support my study and forgive my long absences away from home, even
during the difficult times. The past few years have seen some change in our
family. I moved away from Canberra. My Grandma passed away. My Dad single-
handedly rebuilt our house (with the help of some lovely but truly dodgy build-
ers), which is now gigantic, before retiring after more than 40 years of work. And
then my Mum was diagnosed with cancer. Since then, my Dad and my Sister,
who is a credit to our entire family, have sacrificed so much to give her the best
care possible. But the best care possible is not always enough in these circum-
stances, and not a day goes by that they don‘t fear for the worst. Still, today at
least, we’re all hopeful for the best. And finally, to Bec, thanks for continuing to
go on pho dates with me!
viii Acknowledgements
Earlier versions of several chapters within this book were first published
elsewhere in other forms and formats: Mark Chou and Roland Bleiker, “The
Symbiosis of Democracy and Tragedy: Lost Lessons from Ancient Greece,”
Millennium: Journal of International Studies (Vol. 37, No. 3, 2009): 659–682;
Mark Chou, “Democracy in an Age of Tragedy: Democracy, Tragedy and
Paradox,” Critical Horizons: A Journal of Philosophy and Social Theory (Vol. 11,
No. 2, 2010): 289–313; Mark Chou, “Postmodern Dramaturgy, Premodern
Drama: The Global Resurgence of Greek Tragedy Today,” Journal for Cultural
Research (Vol. 15, No. 2, 2011): 131–152. I thank each publisher for giving me
permission to include the content within this book.
Introduction: Democracy and Tragedy
It was a late November evening in 2004 when, at the close of a State Theatre
Company of South Australia performance of Euripides’ drama The Trojan
Women, an unexpected cry pierces the theatre’s silence. A woman, who had
shifted from her seat in the auditorium’s lower balcony, suddenly shouts out to
the departing crowd that ‘this’ – referring to Euripides’ tragedy about the violent
conquest and occupation of a local population by a mighty foreign army – ‘is
what’s happening in Falugia today’. Fingers pointed visibly at the stage, she
makes the point to those still seated in the theatre that ‘[w]e should be ashamed’
of what we are doing in Iraq today. ‘It’s our troops, in Iraq’, she continues, ‘now,
killing women and children’.
Ruth Thompson, a theatre critic who sat through the night’s performance,
recounts the events that followed.1 As she recalls, startled or maybe just buoyed
by the woman’s offhand remarks, ‘concurring cries of “Shame! Shame!”’ arose
throughout the theatre. Soon, more and more people began to speak up, until
the theatre filled with their applause and their murmurings ‘about our collec-
tive responsibility as electors of the current government; as citizens of a country
that had sent its troops to an “illegal war”; that we must not passively allow it to
continue’. Though there was nothing like a formal resolution to act, and certainly
no overt political references made during the performance, a chorus of citizen
viewers did arise that night to voice dissatisfaction and dissent. What Thompson
remembers quite clearly then was a collective if not democratic spirit emerge;
one that, fleeting as it was, caused the vast majority of theatregoers following the
night’s performance to unite in a collective ‘Here, here’.
When Thompson later relayed these events to Rosalba Clemente, the
Australian playwright and director who was responsible for producing the
Euripidean tragedy, her reaction was surprising in that she did not seem at all
surprised. ‘Good. Good’ was Clemente’s response. As Thompson notes, on hear-
ing the democratic tone of the audiences’ response to the tragedy, Clemente went
on to surmise that ‘I feel now that I’ve done my job’. For her to say these words
the implication was almost that, even in a context and for an audience largely