High life
Universal harmony
Taki
Athens To the birthplace of tragedy, comedy, science, philosophy, physics, biology and selective democracy for the 40th-day memorial of my mother's death, a Greek Orthodox custom. The weather is cool and I'm surrounded by old friends. A choir recruited from the opera house sings the hymns, alternating with the priests. After- wards we walk through the peaceful ceme- tery to my family plot where yet another blessing is given for my mother's soul, and then it's all over.
It is Sunday morning, there is no traffic and I walk back past the marble Olympic stadium (built for the 1896 Olympic Games), where I had watched my father compete in the 800 meters. Mind you, he was in his late thirties by then and way past his prime. During the 1930s he was both Greek and Balkan champion. I make my way past the tennis club where once upon a time I had a victory or two. Then, under- neath the Acropolis, where in 1944 a few Greek policemen with pistols held out against the commie guerrillas and died to a man. The city may be full of ghosts but it feels friendly and nostalgic.
What a stupendous feat the Greek race accomplished long ago. The most brilliant state by far was Athens, whose citizens made revolutionary advances in architec- ture, sculpture, painting, music, astronomy, engineering and law. In the ideal Greek state, it was required to strive for perfec- tion. Different classes, of course, had greater or lesser perceptions of perfection. Gods understood it best, followed by mor- tals. Among humans, aristocrats got it right more often than, say, slaves. Prophets understood it more than ordinary people.
Hamartia, an ancient Greek word, meant error. It had nothing to do with its present meaning which is sin. Back in those good old days, hamartia came to be used when one tripped over a stone, or undershot a target with the spear. Hamartia was never meant to show a moral flaw. After all, in Greek drama all heroes were morally good. They committed an hamartia when they failed to maintain their place in the univer- sal harmony, be it through hubris or by a curse laid on them by others.
What I love about Greek tragedy is that it is relentless. No excuses, no tears, no agonies can save those who have failed to maintain the universal harmony, or have not heeded the warning of the gods. Elec- tra, a totally innocent heroine, encourages her brother Orestes to kill their mother in order to restore harmony. This is not hamartia. On the other hand, Hecuba, the mother of Paris, places a mother's instinc- tive love for her son above that of a proph- esy which warns that Troy will be destroyed unless the new-born Paris is killed. We all know what happened. Hecuba upset the universal harmony. Paris lived to topple Troy with his actions.
Approximately 2,000 years later, the Renaissance changed the notion of hamar- tia. It now means a moral sin against Chris- tian ethics. Redemption is a Christian concept. The Greeks did not even know how to spell the word. The gods interfered or redeemed certain people in the manner of a father stepping in when his children are fighting and restoring order. C'est tout.
Which brings me to the squabbling tak- ing place in Washington as I write. Yes, I know, I know, how can I mention the scumbag from Arkansas in the same breath as the Greek heroes? If this isn't an hamar- tia, I am Hillary. I'll tell you why. The scumbag — as the Draft Dodger will always be referred to from now on — mod- elled himself on JFK last week during a cabinet meeting. (Le cabinet is the perfect place for those mafiosi to meet.) But Kennedy, whether one liked him or not, and I didn't, had certain heroic traits. He was brought down for his hamartia — both ancient and modem notions of the word but he certainly doesn't deserve compari- son with the scumbag.
Clinton's model ain't Kennedy, it's O.J. Simpson. The scumbag isn't emblematic of the Sixties, but of the Nineties. He belongs to the company of OJ, Johnnie Cochran, Larry Flint and Jerry Springer. Scumbags all. Was there ever a more shameful scene than last week's garden party at the White House for those who bent over backwards to appease the IRA? A more grotesque sight than the scumbag couple receiving a standing ovation from the likes of Ted Kennedy and Jean Smith? Poor Electra, poor Hecuba. If only the scumbag's mother had been given a warning about what she had unleashed upon an unsuspecting world. But then the gods during the good old days did not deal with scum, did they?
Previous page
