Against Antigone

The place is the Greek city of Thebes; the time is mythic. The city has just weathered a ferocious attack by seven warlords. Though the Thebans persevered and beat back their attackers, the price of victory was high: King Eteocles perished in the battle at the hands of his own brother Polynices, who had led the invading army against his own home city. Polynices also fell, and with the two brothers died the Labdacid dynasty. Their uncle Creon then assumed the crown of Thebes.

This is the setting for Sophocles’ famous tragedy Antigone, a favorite of all who have resisted authority in the name of morality ever since. Our heroine is a strong female character who manfully resists the cruel patriarchy. The vanity of kings lies plain before us in Creon’s hubristic denial of natural law. The higher law of morality stands triumphant over the oppressive institutions of human manufacture.

So goes the standard interpretation of Antigone, correct as far as it goes. However, it also glosses over the extremely unhappy ending, with Antigone and both Creon’s son Haemon and his wife Eurydice dead, and discounts all of Creon’s arguments for obedience to authority. Though Antigone is on the side of Right and her cause is ultimately vindicated by the gods, she herself suffers a very heavy penalty for her actions.  And Sophocles does not portray Creon as a thoroughgoing villain but rather as a man who makes a mistake, who overreacts in a difficult situation, and comes to understand his error by the suffering he endures. Indeed, Creon, not Antigone, is the main character of the play, the one who grows as a person through the events of the story.

There is another line of interpretation associated with Hegel. Hegel viewed Greek tragedy in general as being concerned not with the conflict between Good and Evil but with that between two incomplete notions of Good. In Antigone, Antigone and Creon speak for two different ways of understanding piety: Antigone stands for a familial piety, whereas Creon upholds a communal piety. True piety requires a synthesis of its familial and communal expressions, something neither character accepts to their ultimate detriment.

This reading has a good deal to recommend it, particularly its take on Creon. Unfortunately, it has not been the principle interpretation, and there is insufficient textual evidence to prove its correctness. Whether by Sophocles’ intension or not, Antigone does take on the role of a martyr for principle while Creon assumes on the aspect of a cruel tyrant by condemning her.

There’s another take on this whole story, a modern version, written by Jean Anouilh and performed in France in 1944. Anouilh’s Antigone (distinguished from Sophocles’ by its French pronunciation) was approved by Nazi censors and spends a great deal of time on Creon’s justification for his actions. Supposedly, if one wants to give Creon’s position as much credit as possible, Anouilh’s Antigone is for you.

The reality of the play does not live up to the hype. It is true that Creon has much more of an opportunity to defend himself, and he spins a terrible tale of the two brothers Eteocles and Polynices running with gangs and engaging in all manner of disreputable adventures and of the violence and destruction of the recent war. Here Creon portrays his decision to honor Eteocles and leave Polynices for the dogs and crows as a necessary measure to finally quash the violence that the brothers’ struggle for power had brought about. He makes a good argument, but Anouilh changed a few things to make his own condemnation of Creon even harsher than Sophocles’.

In the first place, Anouilh makes the setting for the drama the aftermath of factional conflict within Thebes. It’s a subtle shift Anouilh has made, but an important one. Whereas Sophocles’ Creon condemned Polynices for marching in arms against his native city, Anouilh’s does so almost arbitrarily: he felt simply he had to pick one brother. Another key change is what happens after Antigone’s punishment. In Sophocles’ telling, the blind seer Tiresias confronts Creon and convinces him to reverse his decision. In Anouilh’s, Creon does not even have the opportunity to change his mind before learning of the various deaths that have occurred. Rather than giving Creon his due, Anouilh undermines him even further. Evidently, the Nazis did not read French very well.

If we want to take Creon and his position seriously, we face a number of obstacles even beyond Sophocles’ and others’ portrayals. We would like to look back at the original myth and see just what kind of man Creon was supposed to be and what exactly were the circumstances of his decision. Unfortunately, while we can tell something about the circumstances, the man is difficult to pin down. Creon’s character varies wildly in Sophocles’ three portrayals, and there is virtually no additional material to inform us. For the dramatist, Creon is a dream come true, the skeleton of a character onto whom the playwright can graft whatever flesh he wishes.

Creon’s life story is easier to pin down. He was descended from Cadmus, the founder of Thebes, but not part of the Labdacid house. His sister (named Jocasta by Sophocles and Epicasta by Homer) married Laius, son of Labdacus, and when Laius died mysteriously and the Sphinx began to plague the city, Creon assumed the regency, offering the throne to whoever could defeat the Sphinx. This turned out to be Oedipus, and Creon ceded power to him as promised.

When Oedipus went into exile, Sophocles tells us that Creon became king, but tradition says that Oedipus’ sons quarreled over the throne, eventually agreeing to alternate rule each year. Assuming Sophocles did not simply invent this episode, it is reasonable to infer that Creon took over once again as regent, performing the actual duties of the king until Eteocles and Polynices settled their differences. When Eteocles’ year was up, Creon supported him in driving Polynices from the city. In the aftermath of the War of the Seven Against Thebes, Creon once again assumed power, this time permanently.

After the debacle with Antigone, Creon continued to rule for many years. Most notable of his actions as king was to welcome Amphitryon of Tiryns, step-father of Heracles. He also went to war alongside Amphitryon against the Taphian pirates. Creon’s daughter Megara married Heracles, and according to Euripides, when the usurper Lycus murdered Creon, he was avenged by his heroic son-in-law.

Sophocles portrays Creon as feeling the need to display strength early in his reign, to reassure the people that the state is in good hands. In light of his history, this makes absolutely no sense. Creon was repeatedly the man entrusted with power during times of crisis: when Laius was dead and the Sphinx was on the prowl and again after Oedipus went into exile and his sons quarreled. His experience, as much as his family relations, justified his rule when the Labdacids were extinguished. Creon’s insecurity, his reluctance to admit error lest he appear weak, is out of character.

Still, it’s not much of a rebuttal to a thoroughly anti-authoritarian story that Sophocles made it up or mischaracterized the participants. Of course he did these things; the whole story is made up. The Hegelian interpretation is stronger, and it makes a good point: family and community should not be in conflict with each other. Unfortunately, the text is underdetermined, and no one who is convinced that Antigone is a liberal heroine will ever be persuaded to downgrade her status.

Antigone belongs on the index, not of forbidden texts, but of dangerous ones. In the wrong interpretive hands, it gives license to flout authority in the name of one’s own interpretation of “higher law.” As Creon himself sagely put it, “disobedience is the worst of evils. This it is that ruins cities; this makes homes desolate; by this, the ranks of allies are broken into head-long rout; but, of the lives whose course is fair, the greater part owes safety to obedience” (765-770).

Liked it? Take a second to support Social Matter on Patreon!