Do you think I will crouch before your Gods—so new—and tremble?
I am far from that.
There’s
one thing all liberal peoples have in common: unadulterated defiance
against unjust power. To be bloody, but unbowed. The first great
playwright of the world, the Greek Aeschylus, saw in his countryman’s
fight against imperial Persia the defiance of freemen. He witnessed
firsthand the desperate but resolute plight of those fighting against
slavery of spirit, not just body. But to fail—to be conquered by a
tyrant—is preferable to never having fought at all. After the
Greco-Persian wars he staged a play celebrating that theme with a
well-known myth: Prometheus Bound.
Prometheus was one of
the old titans before the current Olympian pantheon. He helped Zeus and
the young upstart gods overthrow his brethren. As reward he was allowed
to exist in the new world order. But he fell in disfavor when he aided
mankind—a race Zeus was intending to blot out—by giving them the gift of
fire. He also taught them several crafts, and blessed them with blind
hope so they may persevere in light of their doom. This empowered
mankind, and angered Zeus so much he decreed Prometheus would be chained
and tortured for eternity. The play follows Prometheus’ enslavement and
indignation towards his condition. He curses Zeus and prophesies the
god’s downfall. During the story he is visited by several characters who
ultimately disagree with his rebellion, for Prometheus could alleviate
his suffering by bowing to Zeus and serving him. But the titan will not
hear of it.
An otherwise simple, if not dignified story has a few
cool things going on. The first is the meaning of Prometheus’ name,
foresight, which reveals the titan’s ability to predict the future. He
knows his fate as well as the fates of others. We’re not sure if this
makes his suffering better or worse; better in that he knows it’ll end,
or worse as it eliminates the possibility of hope. But foresight also
connotes thinking ahead, which allows for intelligent planning. Many
characters in the story think they’re outplaying their opponent: Zeus
thinks he’ll break the titan, Hermes and the chorus think they’re on the
winning side, and humanity plans on controlling the world with fire’s
power. But it’s Prometheus who has the ace, and he (along with the
audience) knows he’ll win the long game. It’s just getting there that’s
an issue.
Thus tyranny is not sustainable. The seemingly foolish
resistance to absolute power is actually quite wise; Prometheus knows it
is right to oppose injustice, and that his opposition is what will end
Zeus’ reign. But the indignation is also necessary. To stoically endure
would be a waste; the titan must share his woe and inspire others. He
moves the other characters to sympathy, if not inspiration, but doesn’t
seem to sway them. It is not easy enduring hell. But the play does
vibrate with the audience—an audience who have already endured hell and
came out on top. Hopefully Prometheus will inspire the generations to
come who are faced with the same choice. And while we lack such divine
foresight, we do have another important gift: blind hope.
The
artifice of the play is complex too, because Zeus of course is head god.
He’s the ‘just’ leader of Greek religion. How Aeschylus manages to
portray him as an insufferable tyrant is nothing short of spectacular,
and surely dangerous. But the playwright skillfully—and
uncomfortably—manages to get us on Prometheus’ side by carefully
transitioning our feelings from basic sympathy to incited anger. Io’s
interjection tops it off: why did Zeus allow this to happen to an
innocent woman he claimed to love? Does this not display his
indifference to injustice? And why would he want to destroy all mankind?
Prometheus Bound moves us from being compassionate observers to
chained and defiant rebels. We evolve from mere humans to titan-sapian
hybrids that defy Zeus himself. We don’t seem to mind it’s a losing
battle. We are willing to spend ourselves for a worthy cause.
What
makes this so interesting is that the play’s status quo—Hermes,
Oceanos, and the Chorus—in many ways are meant to represent ourselves.
Zeus has overthrown the tyranny of the titans, and we of the Olympian
faith stand by him. Aeschylus is inviting us to serious self-reflection
on where we hold our allegiances, and anticipates the Peloponnesian war
where the liberators become the imperialists. Along with the Persians,
the playwright is a master at getting the audience to identify with the
opposite side. If we stand by Zeus we oppose Prometheus. We oppose a
just cause. In order to think upon this troubling contradiction we need
to exercise our intelligence, something more akin to Prometheus than
Zeus.
This leads to a final and no less important dichotomy. Zeus
symbolizes the unbridled might of tyranny, where Prometheus is
liberating intelligence. It is not enough to say the strong conquer the
weak; we must also consider the role of the intellectual in life’s food
chain. In the short term he is devoured but his cunning and foresight
will let him dominate in the end. This is a theme that pulsates in the Oresteia
as well. Strong-arm tactics must be curbed in civilized life, and the
only effective shackle is institutionalized intelligence. Prometheus is
the last stand against a lawless world. He teaches man so they may
organize themselves rationally and plan their future. The implicit
message—that absolute authority is degenerate and only through each
other can we survive—celebrates not only our humanity but also our
legitimate institutions. Aeschylus urges us to memorialize the martyrs
who suffered so this could happen; not just a fictitious titan, not just
the author, but hopefully ourselves.
