Wisdom from Greek tragedies for Joe Biden

The currently tense situation of President Joe Bidenwhich showcases each his weakness and his determination, is dramatic since it touches on greater than just the political moment and the character of a single man.

After his his disastrous performance in the controversy sparked calls for his resignation As a Democratic presidential candidate, Biden’s position is just not only inextricably linked to problems with temperament and family dynamics. There can also be the challenge of constructing a key decision quickly at a moment when no decision is simple or clearly correct.

And that's not all. Biden has turn into a logo of each the biological challenges and the existential implications of aging – aging in power, definitely, but in addition simply the inexorable wear and tear of growing older.

The pressure of all these aspects makes Biden a tragic figure.

Others hesitate to step down

While seeing this eye-opening moment in the sunshine of the past doesn't make life in the current any easier, it does broaden perspective. Biden is way from the primary person ready of power to hesitate to step down – even when common sense or sheer fatigue might dictate otherwise. In recent history, Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg is commonly cited as an unlucky example, and there are numerous other figures historians can cite.

Literature has all the time been about not only people in power, but in addition the life cycle and complexity of family relationships. Myths remain fresh and timeless; as we get older, our understanding of a myth can change.

As poet Eavan Boland writes:The pomegranate:”

“And the most effective thing in regards to the legend is
I can enter it anywhere. And that's what I did.”

The huge cohort of ageing baby boomersof which I’m one, probably sympathizes with Biden, because he has turn into a logo of the vulnerability of aging – the vulnerability to humiliation and, more subtly, to isolation.

A woman sits in a room, puts her face in her hands and covers her eyes.
Tonya Morris reacts throughout the presidential debate between President Joe Biden and Republican nominee former President Donald Trump at Tillie's Lounge in Cincinnati on June 27, 2024.
AP Photo/Carolyn Kaster

Age “is no protection from suffering”

Greek poets like Homer and Sophocles represent age realistically.

In Homer’s “Iliad”, says old Nestor, who reminisces endlessly. Although he’s listened to with respect, he’s a figure from a previous generation whose role within the war has shrunk to that of an advisor.

Priam, the aged king of Troy, is heartbroken after the death of his son Hector. Yet he finds the energy to berate his surviving sons as they clumsily harness the mules that may pull the cart laden with ransom in order that Priam should purchase his dead son's body. by the warrior who killed him, Achilles.

The following moment of realization The story between Priam and Achilles is some of the poignant in literature, not least since the sight of old Priam reminds Achilles of his own aged father. One might expect Achilles to be indignant, but when he sees Priam, his anger turns to grief. Achilles knows he won’t ever see his father Peleus again. Being old isn’t any excuse for suffering; the aged Priam, mourning the lack of his son Hector, is struck by the identical desolate grief as Achilles.

In Shakespeare's “Henry IV,” the once cheerful and resilient Falstaff, publicly rejected and insulted by Prince Halis old, vulnerable – and alone. Macbeth, widowed and isolated, seems to have aged many years over the course of the play; he thinks desperately of the comforts that old age could offer: “Honor, love, obedience, hosts of friends.”

King Lear opens the tragedy named after him by seemingly withdrawing. He proclaims his “intention/To shake off all the cares and affairs of our time,/To leave them to younger forces, while we/Crawling carefree towards death.”

But Lear refuses to offer up control. When he finally sinks into confusion, he discovers humility and compassion – too late. In prison, Lear is reunited together with his faithful daughter Cordelia, who was not afraid to talk truth to power, but who also never stopped loving him – but She is summarily executed and Lear dies inconsolably.

Decision requires “rare distance”

Political commentator Bill Maher has Age discrimination the last respectable prejudice. It is as if age and the disabilities that include it create a force field that keeps others at a distance. Or perhaps age confers a generally recognized vulnerability on individuals who once seemed powerful.

In any case, old people can seem somewhat isolated from the remainder of us.

It is difficult to assume President Biden alone; quite the opposite, he’s apparently surrounded by loyal family and consultantsBut the vulnerability of old age was clearly visible in the primary presidential debate. The news reports convey how difficult it has turn into for everybody to outside Biden's inner circle to essentially see or know him.

One of the countless contrasts between Biden and Donald Trump is Biden's sphinx-like inscrutability, especially now. With Trump, as has often been noted, what you see is what you get. Whether good or bad, his qualities are all the time on full display.

Age is traditionally related to wisdom, however the wisdom that age can bestow seems out of reach for an individual still within the thick of politics. Lear's “perfect” idiot rebukes the king: “You shouldn’t have grown old until you were wise.”

Only a withdrawal from the fighting could bring some peace. But the vision of constructing the difficult decision to withdraw requires a sort of distance that appears to be very rare in history and never common in literature either.

An old man is being comforted by two women; a soldier stands in front of him.
The old and blind Oedipus at Colonus says in a drawing by Bertel Thorvaldsen from 1800: “Only the immortal gods know neither old age nor death! All other almighty things are disturbed by time.”
Sepia Times/Universal Images Group via Getty Images

“The almighty time is disturbing”

Greek tragedy provides an eloquent example of such wisdom.

Sophocles' “Oedipus at Colonus” is a play about an old man, written by an old man – Sophocles was in his 90s when the drama was performed.

The aged, self-deluded and self-exiled former king Oedipus finds himself, guided by his faithful daughter, in Colonus, a sacred district outside Athens. When Theseus, the ruler of Athens, appears on the scene, Oedipus' words to him transcend each the immediate situation and the horrific backstory of Oedipus.

“The immortal
Only gods have neither old age nor death!
All other almighty things disturb the time.
The earth decays, the body decays;
Faith dies, mistrust is born.
And imperceptibly the mind changes
Between a person and his friend or between two cities…
… but time passes,
Immeasurable time, the countless
Nights, countless days….”

By addressing each the mortality that every one humans face and one other universal aspect, the inevitability of change, this speech brings a profound calm to the situation.

Oedipus knows he has come to Colonus to die, and his words convey a vision that seems to return from beyond. His detachment has an authority that seems unattainable for nearly any of us today, let alone a politician. But it is sweet to do not forget that such qualities exist.

Of course, that is a special moment. The looming juggernaut that Trump represents makes it difficult for Biden's supporters or other Democrats to stay calm. Still, it’s value reflecting on the potential strengths, but in addition the vulnerabilities, of old age.

The widespread fear currently gripping Biden's supporters is typically derided as unwarranted panic. Time, Oedipus might remind us, will tell. Personally, I find this fear touching and inspiring due to its humanity; there may be widespread compassion for Biden's vulnerability.

In the ugly spectacle of American politics, it’s difficult to maintain humanity in sight. Literature can remind us what we already learn about aging, about change, about mortality.



image credit : theconversation.com