Antigone’s Underlying Aristotelian Flair
The Greek philosophers were the first to say what we’ve known to be true to ourselves in both literary, physical and visual art: art is representation. They believed that our enduring fascination with such art exists because we are, in turn, fascinated with who we are. As Aristotle argues in Poetics, his critical work concerning the qualities of poetry and ultimately that of tragic works, “representation… comes naturally to us” and is the underlying reason why audiences across the centuries still resonate with art forms, no matter the medium (Aristotle 20).
Even though representation (or mimesis) transcends the many varying forms of art, it is clear that tragedies, as exemplified by Sophocles’ Theban trilogy, are the medium best fitted to profoundly move and evoke extreme emotion within the average outward observer. Shown through its general alignment with Aristotle’s evaluative criteria of tragedy, Antigone, Sophocles’ third chronological installment in his tragic trilogy, is clearly a very successful theatrical and literary work. Despite its brief divergence from Aristotle’s interpretation of character, Antigone is an effective tragedy that adheres to the majority of Aristotle’s specific prescriptions.
At large, Antigone has a successful tragic plot structure as defined by Aristotle, as the specific actions that push this tragic play’s plot forward lead to a sense of wholeness at its end. According to Aristotle, tragedy must be “of a superior kind — grand and complete in itself”, meaning that at play’s end, the plot (or muthos), should feel as if it is whole and finished (23). Sophocles’ Antigone is an excellent model of this phenomenon; it has a clear beginning, middle and end, which aptly facilitates the plot’s total unification.
The play starts in medias res, or, in the middle of things, with a heated conflict between Antigone and Ismene, Oedipus’ surviving offspring. The plot quickly escalates as Antigone decides to “heap/ the burial mound for” Polyneices, her slain brother, by herself — for Ismene refused — against the will and law of Creon, their uncle and king (Sophocles 80–81). Then Creon, now aware of Antigone’s unlawful behavior, swiftly shifts the plot into its climax and falling action by unremorsefully giving Antigone “the punishment of death”, an action which catalyzes Haemon, Antigone’s betrothed and Creon’s very his own son, as well as Eurydice, Creon’s wife, to both kill themselves in a suicidal chain reaction (770). In line with Aristotle’s criteria, each one of these events is sensibly sequential, conflict-driven and easily identified. As a result, Antigone’s plot is incredibly effective in keeping the audience focused on the events leading to the catastrophe. Similarly, Antigone’s plot also has dignity, as defined by Aristotle, because it “keep[s] within a period of twenty-four hours”(23). The plays succinct time frame and lack of a significant sub-plot create an effective cathartic journey for the audience.
Antigone also abides by peripeteia and anagnorisis, defined by Aristotle as the “most important devices that tragedy uses to affect the emotions” (25). Sophocles’ inclusion of these two devices successfully promotes an emotional upwelling in the audience. Appearing before anagnorisis, peripeteia instigates the grand catastrophe that piles up at play’s end. This dramatic reversal of fortune is most clear when Creon sentences Antigone to death by imprisonment in what she describes as her “marriage chamber, [and] hollowed-out/ house” (891–892).
By being unwilling to compromise his rigid belief in the infallibility of law, Creon’s stubbornness — his very own hamartia, not unlike Aristotle’s standard of hubris — leads to Antigone’s death and the deaths of Creon’s wife and son, marring his reputation as Thebes’ fair king. Haemon’s and Eurydice’s death signify the sinking of Creon’s ship of state and effectively bring the tragic play to a sorrowful, cathartic close worthy of Aristotle’s attention (187–190). As a result, the realization (anagnorisis) that Creon comes to is that he was incorrect to deny Antigone’s brother his proper burial rites. He immediately renounces his stubborn character once he recognizes it to be his hamartia, but by then, the loss of life he caused could not be repaired; the audience’s yearning for an uplifting ending remains unmet.
Although Sophocles includes these unmistakably Aristotelian elements in Antigone in terms of plot, when it comes to character, he partially diverges from Aristotle’s standards. Initially, Antigone does align with Aristotle’s claim that it is people’s “moral status that gives… [them] the character they have” (24). Antigone, of elevated social and moral status, is ever consistent and appropriate; she seeks to nobly bear the weight and consequence of her tragic fate with “honor” like Aristotle’s typical tragic hero would, even though she was born into her downfall and ultimately not to blame for her incestuous origin (97). As the product of Jocasta and Oedipus’ incestuous relationship, Antigone has known of her wrongful, mingled beginnings her entire life. Her parents’ publicized tragedy afforded her the opportunity to “know herself”, an enlightenment that brought her extreme suffering. Nevertheless, Antigone sought to make the best of her tragic situation and accrue honor by remaining faithful to her family members.
However, not all of Antigone’s character traits correlate with Aristotle’s Poetics. Aristotle holds that “the point [of a tragic plot] is action, not character”, a significant change within the main character through specific action is absolutely essential to the success of the tragic plot (24). Despite sharing some elements of Aristotle’s tragic character, Antigone does not display as much introspection or malleability to the audience as her uncle Creon does; her character exemplifies incomplete mimesis, as she holds polarizing, unchanging beliefs surrounding the supremacy of individual conscience over state law. These highly-held ideas alongside Antigone’s inflexibility and dangerous determination disallow audience members from identifying with her character. Instead of having Antigone, the tragic hero, change as a result of these pivotal plot events, Sophocles chooses to artfully fashion a new Creon throughout the play.
Rather ironically, the heaviest tragic burden in Antigone is shown in detail through the transformation of Creon, the antagonist. Creon’s defiant, tyrannical character falters when he realizes that his actions led to the deaths of his niece, wife and son. Transitioning from a tyrannical king to an insecure individual at the play’s denouement, Creon utters: “Servants, take me away, out of the sight of men./ I who am nothing more than nothing now,” a phrase that mirrors Oedipus’ final words as king (1320–1321). Whereas Antigone, the play’s namesake, passes on from the living realm without undergoing a significant character shift, Creon morphs into a shell of his original self by the play’s end, underscoring the audience’s empathy for Creon and strengthening Antigone’s cathartic effect.
Literature is artifice; it is a “representation” of reality that draws so close to reality that some individuals might mistake it for truth.
Literature is artifice; it is a “representation” of reality that draws so close to reality that some individuals might mistake it for truth. It has a function: to have an emotional cathartic effect on us through mimesis, the act of using the audience’s experiences to build a relatable and believable plot. Sophocles’ Antigone is a distinct tragic work that still endures today because it masterfully achieves this proper catharsis through mimesis. It diverges from Aristotle’s interpretation of character, but is still referred to by academics as an effective tragedy because it adheres to the majority of Aristotle’s tragic guidelines. When Aristotle wrote these critical, long-standing guidelines, he overlooked the fact that art and tragedy cannot be successful just because they fulfill his list of literary criteria; art is not as rational as Aristotle’s Poetics would have us believe. Antigone’s success as a tragedy is not determined by the set of Aristotelian criteria that it satisfies; it is instead determined by the subjective positions of audience members and how well their experiences line up with those of the tragic characters.
