One of the central themes of my Introduction to Literature class is that the great works of literature endure across time, space, and culture because they help us to answer the question "What does it mean to be human?" Oedipus Rex remains a timeless tale of hubris, the arrogance of power. But I much prefer Antigone: a protagonist willing to die rather than allow the State (in the form of her uncle Creon) to prevent her from burying her brother and putting his spirit to rest. Creon believes the brother was a traitor to the state, and he orders the body to remain unburied as a lesson to other traitors.
I can't help it; every time I read the play I think of Dick Cheney as Creon.
Tonight, I am thinking of Egypt. Of course, two great poems are appropriate.
Ozymandias
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
I traveled to Egypt in 2005 for three weeks, an American woman, alone, while Bush was waging war (again) in the Middle East. People were always kind and welcoming. One taxi driver asked me, "Where are you from?" When I said I was from the United States he laughed and said, "Most Americans say they are from Canada!" I replied that some of us were embarrassed and ashamed of President Bush. Again he smiled, "We do not like George Bush, but we love Americans! Tell your friends to come and visit us!" I have traveled the world; I have never known such hospitality as I found in Egypt.
Two faces are inescapable in Egypt. The first is the visage of Ramses II, the ruler Shelley describes in Ozymandias. His statues, and the ruins of his statues, and the pictures of his statues are everywhere: on the money, in the museums. Thousands of years later, he remains a presence. But today, he serves the people well, helping to bring in millions of vital tourist dollars every day. The people barely survive on what little cash they can earn. And of course, most of those tourist dollars are stolen by a corrupt modern tyrant and his minions.
That other ubiquitous face is that of Hosni Mubarak, who rules with the proverbial iron fist, tolerating no visible dissent, squashing political reforms, stealing money from his citizens while they starve in the streets of his capital.
If he were wise, he would begin to institute democratic reforms, allowing his people the freedom they see in the lives of the tourists they meet from around the world every day. If Mubarak loved his family, he would do this now, for his son cannot hope to lead Egypt after Mubarak dies; once Mubarak dies, all hope for a peaceful transition of power is lost. He may really believe that only he is fit to lead, that only he can prevent religious extremists from taking power, that only he can balance the demands of modernity against the corruption of tradition.
Hubris.
But he is not wise. Only tyrants keep their citizens in poverty, while skimming millions for their personal coffers. Only tyrants silence peaceful communications between citizens. Only tyrants cut off peaceful calls for democracy with tanks and tear gas.
Which brings me to the next poem.
The Second Coming
by W. B. Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
I know all of us hope that the protests in Egypt, in Tunisia, and around the world result in peaceful democratic reform. But revolution is dangerous. Not only are the protesters imperiled, but we never know for sure whether revolution will result in positive reform which helps people improve the quality of everyday life. Sometimes, the new regime is far worse for the people than the old.
I remember when a young Iranian boy, all of 14, came to live with my family for a year. Nadir's family had sent him to school in Kentucky, so that he could avoid being drafted into the army. One of Nadir's older brothers was attending my university, and his parents wanted Nadir to be in the same city. Nadir went to class with me everyday. I remember my shame when he attended my church one Sunday, at my father's urging, and my Sunday School teacher called Nadir a heathen, and tried to convert him to the "true faith." I remember watching tv, and hoping the revolution would be successful, because we all knew how corrupt the Shah was.
During the revolution, we lost touch with Nadir and his family. We didn't dare send them a letter, for fear that Ayatollah Khomeini's secret police would arrest or even execute them for the terrible crime of having friends in America.
And of course I remember Tiananmen Square.
I don't pretend to know what would be best for my friends in Egypt. As Rachel just said on MSNBC, corrupt, tyrannical regimes don't always breed responsible opposition parties. Fear and desperation rarely lead to good judgement. And after 30 years of dictatorship, people are desperate. Sometimes, people are ready to protest only when they have nothing left to loose. Remember that for Antigone, death was preferable to life among the corrupt and dishonorable.
I hope Obama has the sense and humility to let the people of Egypt determine their own destiny. So far, he and Hillary have carefully supported democratic reform while trying to stay clear of obvious meddling. It's very hard to know the side of the angels. Our historical record in that part of the world should teach us that this is not about us, that we really don't understand, that stability vs. freedom is a false and dangerous choice. My own compass tells me that anyone engaging in violence forfits their moral authority. And I don't really understand Egypt. I was only a tourist for three weeks in 2005. I cannot presume that I know best. I don't.
But I hope, I hope, that peaceful democratic change is possible. I do know that it is desperately, urgently needed, in Egypt, in Tunisia, and around the world.
What does it mean to be human?
I hope, this time, it means
Peace