A Tragic Tale

If I was devoid of any creativity, this piece on tragedy would begin with a definition. Something along the lines of 'according to the dictionary, tragedy is both “a dramatic composition…dealing with a serious or somber theme…typically that of a person destined through a flaw of character to downfall or destruction” as well as “a lamentable and dreadful event”, though the second meaning came much later [from everything I can find, around the 14^th-16^th century].' If, after all that, I still wanted to follow the all-too-predictable path laid out by countless writers of other opinion pieces, I would then build upon these definitions, perhaps putting them in terms you could understand or applying them to areas that wouldn’t seem obvious at first. Maybe I would go about contradicting the very definition I had printed only a few lines earlier! But this is not a safe or formulaic piece of writing. I intend to, as my sweet mother might say, throw caution to a burning bridge. Although, if we are being honest, [which I’ve heard that good writing should], though I mock the act of opening a paper with a definition, I admit, that I am technically guilty of this lazy form of writing myself. Accept my humble apology.

We must forge ahead – a look at tragedy, and perhaps a fresh perspective on it, awaits.

The Greeks are widely considered the masters of tragedy [I should say the Ancient Greeks are considered the masters of tragedy [e.g. Sophocles and Euripides], because if we are being honest again, I have heard little, if anything, about modern Greek tragedians. And yes, if you were wondering, someone who writes tragedies is actually called a tragedian, not a tragist, or depressed]. So, we have agreed that the Ancient Greeks [though by no means every ancient Greek, only a select few, like the famed Aeschylus] mastered the tragic form, and that is why today, Athens is considered the birthplace of the tragedy, or so I've been told. The Romans and many others have tried their hands at it, but the gold medal for tragic writing still belongs to the Greeks.

You can relax, because I am not here to detail all the characteristics of a tragedy, or what the technical distinctions are between a drama from a tragedy [partly because I couldn’t really do it even if I had the time and desire to, which fortunately for both of us, I don’t], but do allow me a brief explanation.

It sounds idiotic, but a tragedy is above all, tragic. It is a story of human suffering, often caused by a flaw within a character himself. Perhaps you could call it bitterly ironic – the tragic hero usually brings about his own demise, or if you prefer understanding concepts through over-used phrases, the tragic hero becomes his own worst enemy. Tragedy also implies a type of self-induced suffering. A loss was avoidable, or a gain was tangible, but in the end, the worst possible outcome happens to the hero because of choices made they made. That’s the real agony of a tragedy – the undesirable outcome was essentially chosen, though almost always unknowingly. For example, if I come home and find my fish murdered, that’s sad. But, if I come home and find my fish murdered by a man whom I wronged years ago, in a way, that’s tragic [for me, not the fish, because Fishy’s actions didn’t bring about his(or her) demise. Random/possibly idiotic question: how can you tell gender on a fish?].

That was what tragedy meant then. While the definition hasn’t changed, its use has. A tragedy nowadays rarely refers to a dramatic work; instead, it almost always used to talk about a “lamentable event”, which wasn’t the original intention of the word, but rather a subsequent derivation of it. I wonder what Sophocles and Aristotle would say about that…

[A totally unrelated side-note/tangent: when people are asked who they would have dinner with if they could choose any person living or dead, many answer Jesus, some even say Plato. Aren’t they forgetting that Plato and Jesus didn’t speak English, or any modern language for that matter? The languages they spoke aren’t used anymore, or even if they are, they have evolved so greatly that they bear little, if any, resemblance to the one spoken when they were alive. So while I think that Jesus is certainly a man who would be worth having dinner with, it could potentially be awkward. You would have to try and conduct an entire conversation through crude sign language, which at best would allow you to convey only the most basic thoughts and ideas to one another. But you don’t have dinner with Jesus to talk about simple things. You want to talk about life, heaven, faith, creation, love – and how the hell do you do that through sign? By choosing Jesus [or any famous person who doesn’t speak your language] you’re setting yourself up for a frustrating, and most likely, unproductive discussion. Although, dinner with the son of God could have its upsides – there’s always the chance of seeing if He can really turn water into wine, or perform one of his miracles that he doesn't get enough credit for; getting George W. re-elected].

To answer my own question, I sincerely doubt that Sophocles or Euripides would care about the transformation of the word ‘tragedy’ if they were alive today. They would be blown away by things like electricity, cars, planes, iPods, the internet, trains, our clothes, and that women had equal standing in society. They wouldn’t care about the word. But we are not ancient Greek philosophers. So, allow us to enjoy what Plato and Sophocles can’t, and in all probability, wouldn’t want to even if they could: tragedy and its meaning today.

I’m not trying to be a language nazi, or harp on technicalities. I let others fight those battles. I’m just calmly pointing out that language changes, and I believe not always for the better.

Haiti is many things. It’s unspeakable sadness, it’s heart wrenching and painful. It’s a harsh dose of perspective. But technically, it’s not a tragedy, because unlike Pat Robertson, I don’t think the Haitians did anything to bring this on [like make a pact with the devil as Roberston claims – it is a “well established fact”, according to this man. You want another well-known fact Mr. Robertson? You’re a coward, a bigot, and a disgrace to your faith. You judge and condemn people you’ve never met, and claim to represent a God you don’t resemble. This recent hateful outburst isn’t uncharted territory for Mr. Robertson. A few years ago, he claimed Hurricane Katrina was God’s way of punishing Americans for their liberal abortion policies. I don’t know what God you (Mr. Robertson) pray to or speak for, but if it’s one that can look at orphaned children and shattered families, and somehow view it as deserved retribution, I don’t want any part of it. This devilish pact, according to you was made by the Haitians in the 18^th century. Does your God really hold a grudge for 3 centuries, and then punish people whose only mistake was being born in Haiti? And if he does, then I hope you live long enough to endure the revenge owed to white American men for their mistreatment of Native Americans and enslaved African-Americans]. So to call Haiti a tragedy, is to unknowingly imply what the hateful Mr. Robertson does – that it was somehow self-imposed through choice. However, no one means that, just as no one is really talking about circular reasoning when they say something “begs the question”.

I have been blown off course yet again, and if I keep rambling on, I run the risk of doing so again. Let me conclude.

As I look around and see best-selling books about teenage vampires and boy wizards, I wonder if I am staring at our society’s tragedy. We have made a choice to read things that aren’t challenging or provoking, and we settle for instant [and usually poorly written] gratification. We choose to read about characters who in the course of one conversation interject, whisper, screech, scream, interrupt, question, opine, chime, utter, declare, assert and protest when all they really need to do is ask and say. We choose to call Brillo boxes art, Twilight literature, and the Harry Potter movies cinema, and now we are living in the tragic downfall created by our choices; where we have Creed instead of Led Zepplin, Miley Cyrus and Kelly Clarkson instead of Janis Joplin, Dan Brown instead of Raymond Chandler, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen instead of Casablanca.

I long for a time (as Victor Hugo did) when language and its writing was preserved because it was important, not because it was printed. I feel a sense of loss [lamentable loss even?] that our generation has chosen to devour writing that is merely television on paper – where plot twists matter more than the journey itself. [I’m not suggesting everyone run out and buy a copy of Finnegan’s Wake and spend a year trying to digest it, but there must be a happy middle ground somewhere.] The word tragedy no longer represents a dramatic or literary achievement. It’s just a word that people use when they open a thesaurus looking for a different way to say "sad".

In a way, I guess you could call that a tragedy.