Monthly Archives: October 2015

Not going to lie, the quote by English philosopher Thomas Hobbes, “nasty, brutish and short” portrays a rather pessimistic tone. Through his famous book, Leviathan, where he expresses his views about the nature of human beings and the necessity of governments and societies. From the strong reaction towards the publication of Leviathan, the disagreements with his theories of human nature are raised. Hobbes, like Machiavelli (an Italian philosopher) viewed human beings in a low light, whereby all humans are basically selfish and driven by fear of death and the hope of personal gain. All of us seek power over others, whether the realisation comes to us or not. However, if the view of Hobbes does not sit well inside your stomach, there is always going to be somebody who will happily steal everything you own, but it can be argued that there are some people that are selfish in that way. However, Hobbes disagrees with Machiavelli’s ideas as at heart we all are selfish, but the rule of law and the treat of punishment will keep us in a sense, sane.

The consequence of this, Hobbes argued was that if the society broke down and had to live in what he called a ‘state of nature’ without the presence of law or anyone with power to embody the sense of authority, everyone else in this society would steal or even murder when viewed as necessary. Especially if it meant continue living or surviving. Using an example of living in a world with scarce resources and the ability to find food and water was challenging, the rational thought of killing other people would more beneficial than killing yourself. Through this Hobbes’ description of life outside society would be “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short.”

However, Hobbes’ theory did not end there, he wanted to find a way out of an undesirable situation.

This way of solving this undesirable situation was the development of a power individual or a parliament in charge. The individuals in the state of nature would have to sign a ‘social contract’ in order to enter the part of the society. This also meant that they had to give up some of the freedoms that they had that were considerably ‘dangerous’ in order to ensure the safety of the others in the society. This was called a ‘sovereign.’ Without it, life would be questionable. Through the sovereign would give the right to punishment if anyone who committed a crime.

Whether it is agreed or not, Hobbes is and was an influential political philosopher whose ideas continue to make a impact to the world today.

Reading Leviathan, I came to a strange realization: I like Thomas Hobbes.

He’s not a favorite of mine by any stretch and his lawyerly writing style occasionally gives me a bit of a headache, but I don’t feel an antipathy towards the man. This wouldn’t be a problem, except for the fact that I despised Plato for making a similar proposal.

Hobbes, like Plato, is enamored of mathematics and even structures his arguments like a Euclidian treatise. As an adjunct to this, he prizes logic as a human value (again, as with Plato). He’s also arguing for a moral absolutist dictatorship; when Plato did this, I got so viscerally infuriated that I wanted to take a bat to a guy who’d been dead for over two millenia. When Hobbes does it, I’m not agreeing, but I’m seeing his perspective with a much greater level of patience.

I thought on this, and there are two reasons why I’m softer on Hobbes. The first is the tone of the manuscript. The Republic is a condescending, posturing narrative that mascarades as a dialogue in order to lend its speakers enough credibility to tell their readers that the majority of them are idiots who can’t think for themselves. Hobbes, on the other hand, assumes his readers are well-versed in mathematics, familiar with rhetoric and quite studious about the Good Book. I enjoy the good faith, and I’d rather puzzle over an over-comprehensive proof than feel like I’m being talked at by the droning prick from the Marshall McLuhan scene in Annie Hall.

The second reason is that Hobbes, despite his sympathies towards a violent and unchecked monarchy, provides some humanist passages in Books XIV and XXI. As Professor Hendricks pointed out last lecture, he provides citizens with the right to essentially protect their own lives, and to forsake their obedience when the state cannot provide protection (i.e. the purpose for which other liberties are sacrificed). Hobbes allows for the presence of disagreement with his own philosophy, which does infinitely more for his credibility than the boundless smugness of Socrates and his fellows’ sycophantic cavilling.

To put this in perspective, Plato is proposing an idealized state for enlightened people, and ends up coming off like an arrogant dictator-wannabe. Hobbes openly proposes an armed monarchy (at a time when the pitfalls of that system were pretty well on full display) for a population of psychopathic brutes, and comes off like a sympathetic, if deeply cynical, humanist. That is a powerful contrast, and I admit it may be informed by my own bias. Given the similarities between the texts’ proposals, however, it’s just too glaring to overlook.

Why use a picture when you can draw one, right? (Excuse my terrible coloring)

When I think of the title Leviathan, my mind immediately wanders to the mythical creature that shares this name. In ancient folklore, the Leviathan is a serpent-like beast immense in size that dwells within the seas. Similar to a dragon, its thick and scaly armor protects it from being penetrated by harpoons and spears while smoke escapes its nostrils when breathing fire. Alongside these features, its strength is said to be so forceful that it is capable of creating tsunamis. Now, having taken this majestic beast into consideration, let us reflect on the image of the Leviathan presented to us in the introduction.

Behind the hills of this village stands a Leviathan in the form of a man, his head of his own, but his body composed of several other men. It is interesting to note that this version of the Leviathan is given only one head while the serpent alternative can be interpreted with various appearances such as a female counterpart or be multi-headed. Professor Hendrick’s lecture touched a little on this, where as a whole, the human Leviathan represents the sovereign and its head specifically represents the monarch. If the monarch is not singular, then it is unable to enforce and have complete control over the laws effectively. Hence, the sword (representing the military) and staff (representing religion) are held in this being’s hands, which unlike its body, are not made up of a multitude of men.

Upon closer inspection of the Leviathan’s body, you can see the men are positioned in such a way that they all face towards the head. Yes, this shows how the citizens collectively agree to be unified, but they only make up a portion of the body as a whole, the torso. Where is the lower body? Does it have one at all? If so, are the men who create it looking up at the head as well, or does their gaze wander elsewhere? Or perhaps they are not shown at all to signify that those who oppose the monarch will not be accepted by the sovereign and community united. One speculation of mine is that the lower body is not revealed to portray the sacrifice of liberty men must make to ensure peace will be created and maintained for the benefit of all in society. With set boundaries for the impediments of mankind, one then has a clear understanding of what actions of freedom are acceptable and will not negatively impact others.

Although, it is perhaps the positioning of the Leviathan that works effectively in answering these questions. The torso of the human Leviathan is visible over the hills and gives the illusion of the serpent Leviathan emerging out of the water, intimidating its attackers and prey. Because it is grand in size and power, perhaps these attributes are left represented by the torso to install the same intimidation among men so that they obey the laws. Fear is, after-all, an emotion that compels us to preserve ourselves  so that we may not have to confront danger and turmoil, but instead be left in peace.

The lack of female presence in The Tempest is depressing from a feminist perspective, considering that the only two females do not shed positive light on their gender. Miranda is passive and rarely makes a real contribution to the play, besides being a prop that the male characters use. Sycorax, who never even appears in the play, is portrayed as an evil witch and another negative image of females. Ultimately, females are very much put in the back-seat in the Tempest. However, I have seen a film version of the Tempest in which Prospero is a female. This drastically changes the dynamics of gender in the play. Women are no longer shown as weak and incapable of doing anything. Prospero is portrayed more as a severe and over-protective mother, rather than a self-absorbed and tyrannical conquerer of Caliban’s lands. Prospero is a mother trying to connect with her teenage daughter Miranda, and protect her from various evils the world throws at her. Not only is Propsero a bit more likable, but also puts a bit more of a feminist spin on The Tempest. A well adapted version, and perhaps a more modern take on the play, I highly recommend it.

For my blogpost today I was musing through thoughts on portrayals of The Tempest and Shakespeare’ possible last work. In some interpretations towards the end of the play Prospero’s riddance of magic – some say relates to Shakespeare’ retiring and the possibility that he could of written in his goodbye to writing future plays through Prospero’s riddance. In the Tempest a neutral air spirit Ariel gives Prospero additional power by carrying out his orders. When relating to Shakespeare – if Prospero’s loss of magic represents his retiring, could then the power that Ariel gives him represent William’ relationship with the public that also empower him? So in that case Prospero releasing Ariel could represent Shakespeare’ need to draw back into the familiarity of his hometown Stratford-upon-Avon. And when Prospero first frees Ariel from the tree that could portray him first finding his fame. It’s fun to see all the different takes on The Tempest especially in film. I’ve been looking through others that are out there and it’s interesting how vastly different they from each other, If this was in fact Shakespeare’ goodbye then what a great way his last was one that has engaged audiences and readers to this day.

Love! I wonder if any of us would be satisfied with “falling in love” with the first person we meet (not including our father and creepy step-brother). Love does taint our eyes and whisper unspeakable things into our ears. However, in the case of Shakespeare’s Tempest, it seems that Prospero has taken it upon himself to fulfill that duty to his daughter Miranda. The entire relationship that develops between Ferdinand and Miranda is entirely of Prospero’s making. The orchestrated encounter is nothing natural as Prospero orders Ariel to play musical matchmaker. Even Prospero’s chat with Ferdinand regarding Miranda’s virginity, in simple terms, is frank (as if she were a gift not to be opened before Christmas day). Does this mean Miranda’s love for Ferdinand is untrue?

In this blog post I wanted to point out few things that stood out when thinking about Miranda and her individual dialogue between Caliban and Ferdinand. I am comparing these two beings as love interests; even though, Caliban’s main impulse was to simply use Miranda as means of populating the island. There is no romance there but then again, is the romance between Ferdinand and Miranda natural either? When Miranda is first greeted by Ferdinand’s presence, she is star struck as “a thing divine, for nothing natural/ [she] ever saw so noble” appears (pg. 124, l. 418-419). The moment their conversation begins, Ferdinand thanks the heavens for the language that allows him to communicate with our said goddess Miranda. Now let’s compare this reaction to that of Caliban’s. When Miranda scolds him for his disrespect she exclaims, “I pitied thee,/ Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour” (pg. 120, l. 352-353). Here Miranda opens up about her disappointment and regret in trying to teach Caliban language so that he may live a life with knowledge and adoration for books. Yet Caliban’s response, quite contradictory to that Ferdinand’s, goes, “You taught me language, and my profit on’t/ Is to know how to curse” (pg. 121, l.362-363). One man exclaims his appreciation for language that brought him closer to Miranda and the other despises it, calling it only a means to curse. Growing up with readings and valuing books above all (due to Prospero’s interest), Miranda finds love in a man who does not diminish that importance. There is not a definite answer to my previous question but Miranda’s interests are clear. She may be a wondering character and possibly convenient prop but she does possess passionate feelings regarding language and that taste contributes to her relationship with Ferdinand.

Click to enlarge.

Prospero’s Books places a lot of emphasis on the control Prospero has over the rest of the characters. Using Prospero to narrate all of the characters lines, the audience are given a feeling that everything is being staged by him. He is in control of the story, and the characters are merely his pawns, acting out his wishes. Towards the end however, Prospero seems to give up control over the other characters and they finally speak in their own voices.

The crucial point where this happens is the very beginning of act 5 scene 1, where Ariel speaks to Prospero about the present conditions of all his enemies. Ariel speaks the line “Your charm so strongly works’em that if you now beheld them, your affections would become tender.” (17-19 act 5 scene 1) This line is repeated several times and it’s the first time Ariel speaks in his own voice. From this point on, all of the characters starts to speak in their own voices. But why this line? What is so special that happens here which made Prospero decide to let the characters speak for themselves? The answer is probably quite obvious. One of the most obvious themes of The Tempest is forgiveness and reconciliation and it can be said that it is at this point, Prospero decides to not pursue revenge but rather forgive his brother.  He replies to Ariel “And mine shall. Hast thou… be kindlier moved than thou art?” (20-24 act 5 scene 1). The movie emphasizes Ariel’s line and suggests that Ariel’s words moved Prospero and helped him make the decision about forgiving his brother. However, it is not very believable that someone like Prospero, would be dissuaded from revenge so easily, by one single sentence from his servant. There must be other more obscure reasons why Prospero decides to forgive when he has the power to take revenge.

The marriage between Miranda and Ferdinand could be a possible explanation for Prospero’s behaviour. After all, love can dissolve all hatred. But let’s not forget, Miranda and Ferdinand’s meeting was staged by Prospero, he was the one who brought Ferdinand to Miranda. Therefore it seems that their marriage is within Prospero’s calculation, and all of it happened before Prospero decides to forgive his enemies. This would suggest that Prospero already forgave his enemies at the very beginning of the play. If so, what is the meaning of the exchange between Prospero and Ariel? If Prospero already forgave his brother, why did he act like he was moved by Ariel? These are questions we will never be able to fully answer, but here is my speculation.

Prospero was only pretending to be moved by Ariel. While the movie seems to highlight Ariel’s influence on Prospero’s decision, the play itself does not do that. It could well be that Prospero already decided to forgive his brother and he was only pretending that Ariel’s words moved him. This would mean that Prospero had this in mind already when he started the tempest. He will make his brother and his enemies suffer, but in the end he will play the good person and forgive. If this is indeed what Prospero thought, then it would shine new light on his character as a clever politician. The idea that The Tempest has political implications was brought up in the lecture. It has been suggested before that Prospero is a political figure, he lost his kingdom due to his love for books, and he is bend on getting his kingdom back using magic he learned from those books. He does it by putting his enemies at his mercy, then play the good guy by helping and forgiving them. He is attacking them through their sense of guilt, and making them willingly give back what they took away from him. The marriage between Miranda and Ferdinand is just a tool for him to build a relationship with the king of Naples, therefore strengthening his rule in Milan. This interpretation would turn the story from a fairy tale to a political story, where the character of Prospero is not acting according to his good will but out of deep calculation.

Are Shakespeare’s plays plot driven or character driven?

I would say character driven. Shakespeare’s plays have an element of free will. The characters always have a choice, and they are aware of this choice. Prospero hands over the political rule to his brother because he wants more time with his books, and he does that because he thinks his brother is trustworthy to not try to obtain kingship for himself. Hamlet spends half the play agonizing over whether to kill his uncle or not. Romeo decides to kill himself to be with the one he loves, and Juliet kills herself for the same reason. Macbeth kills everybody to win. Because of the choices and actions of the characters, the plot falls into place.

But what makes Shakespeare special in comparison to other character driven plays? I think that it is because these characters are not just written as characters, but people.

Shakespeare can really write people. No one will pay to watch a play with characters they hate, or characters they don’t relate with, and Shakespeare’s character are generally anything but that. In my opinion, this is also what allows Shakespeare’s works to be easily translated to the modern audience, because just like war, people never change. Shakespeare writes about human experiences and expresses them through human dialogues and inner monolgues.  Betrayal is still a thing in modern society, whether for love, money, or a kingdom, and the bitterness and anger that most would feel can be heard in Prospero’s story. Depression, whether over having to  kill your uncle or failing your finals resonates with most of Hamlet’s soliloquy’s.

The plot is character driven, and the reason the plot resonates with the audience is because these are actions taken by humans. And because these are actions taken by humans, there will always be similar incidents throughout history that you can project the play on, insuring the immortality of Shakespeare’s plays. After all, all the world’s a stage.

It is fascinating how versatile the plays of Shakespeare are. There have been thousands of different interpretations and adaptions of his works over time and the fact that we are still coming up with new ways to present his plays hundreds of years later proves their flexibility. Put Romeo and Juliet in modern NYC and throw in some dance numbers and you have West Side Story. Put some beats behind a Shakespearean sonnet and suddenly it’s a rap, as done by the Hip Hop Shakespeare Company. Put The Taming of the Shrew in a sitcom and you have the flop of a show 10 Things I Hate About You. Shakespeare’s plays can be presented in any time in any location and still have the same effect. This is especially true with The Tempest because of the ambiguity about the location and time intended. I would like to see an adaption of The Tempest where it takes place in space. Even that would make sense. And space colonization may soon become a reality so it’s not that far fetched. The character of Caliban could easily be an alien and the island could easily be Mars where the human race is trying to claim the planet that Caliban calls home. This is not something that can be pulled off with all theater productions. For instance, the musical Oklahoma probably wouldn’t make sense being put on Mars because of the specificity of location. Shakespeare’s use of ambiguity has made his works relevant for hundreds of years and I don’t see people losing interest for a long, long time.

After reading The Tempest, I found myself intrigued by the characters: Prospero and Ariel. More specifically, their relationship and how Ariel relates to Prospero’s authority and power within the story.

Ariel. Personally, he is my favorite character in the play (but we won’t be getting into any details on that). It is interesting to note how he is essentially Prospero’s “Right-Hand Man”, despite his role as a slave for the time being. While Prospero is busy formulating ideal plans, such as to ensure Miranda and Ferdinand fall in love, it is Ariel who is trused to carry these out until they succeed. Of course, it is sensible that it be Ariel who is responsible for completing a task of this measure. He is afterall, to remain in Prospero’s grasp until he has satisfied his master. However, what tickles my curiosity is in the instance that he is not available at Prospero’s expense.

How would The Tempest play out then? I mean, for Prospro,  there is no logic in relying on Caliban to fulfill such significant duty. Especially those which involve his daughter and the attempt to take back his rightful place on the throne. Would Prospero still be able to succeed in his plans? I highly doubt it, even if he uses “magic” himself. The fact that he chose to use Ariel, a spirit with mystical powers of his own, shows how he, himself lacks the ability to pursue his own inquiries without the aid of another. Knowing this, Prospero creates his own authority in which he has to constantly reassure his power over others. The quotes, “Dost thou forget/ From what a torment I did free thee?” (P.114, l.250) and “Thou liest, maligant thing!” (P.115, l.256) indicate how he is afraid that if Ariel no longer serves him, he will not be able to successfully take back his throne. Additionally, as a response to Ariel’s question of when he will be freed, Prospero “reminds” him of the occasion when he saved him and subliminally demands for longer service. In other and more simpler terms, he “black-mailed” him. Was it really necessary to do so? If so, what does this say about Prospero’s self-proclaimed authority? Does he truly believe in his “power”?