Echoes of Sophocles in the Death of a Senator

Immediately after Senator John McCain passed away last Saturday, August 25, controversy swirled. It came from the current commander-in-chief.  The President's advisers counseled him to issue a statement praising McCain as a "hero," but the President instead released a simple Tweet expressing his rather indifferent "sympathies." Another article from the Washington Post captured the significance of the move well in its title, "Trump's not-so-subtle denigration of a dead man." The two men, both Americans, both officials elected to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, ostensibly were on the same side. Animosity between them, however, prevailed.

John Sidney McCain III (1936 - 2018)

Some of the reasons for their animosity are complex, perhaps even principled.  As former Senate colleague and Vice President Joe Biden remarked at a memorial service in McCain's home state of Arizona, "John could not stand the abuse of power wherever he saw it, in whatever form, in whatever country." Some of their reasons were petty.  President Trump disliked McCain for the latter's pointed critiques of his policy.  Even in the wake of McCain's death, the President ordered the American flag raised again to full mast less than 24-hours after it was lowered to half-staff in honor of the fallen warrior and statesman.  Only after public pressure did the President reverse his decision and say that the flag would remain at half-staff until McCain was laid to rest tomorrow, a week after the flag controversy began.

What is telling about the remarks from Biden is that he represents the Democratic Party, but McCain, the Republican Party. On the surface, they should have been at odds, not two fellow Republicans.  Moreover, it should have been the current President of his own party, not the former Vice President of the opposition party, who could sincerely insist, as Biden did, "John was a hero. His character, courage, honor, and integrity. His optimism. That’s what made John special. It made John a giant among all of us."

The affirmation of McCain by Biden in my ear echoed similar comments by Odysseus in Sophocles' Ajax:  "My enemy, it's true.  But he was noble. / ... His greatness weighs more with me than my hate" (ll. 1355, 1357).

Ajax, placing his sword in the ground.

There are, of course, major differences between the circumstances surrounding McCain's and Ajax's deaths, but the point of contact that I wish to highlight is the various characters' responses to it.

In Sophocles' play, Ajax suffers what he believes is dishonor and shame after being passed over in the privilege to receive Achilles' armor, which went to Odysseus instead. This was a mark of Odysseus' worthiness in the eyes of the Greek leaders to carry on the tradition of their finest warrior.  Ajax goes into a rage and plots to kill the leaders of the Greek army because of the slight, which he was prevented from doing only by the bewitching intervention of Athena. After Ajax dies from a self-inflicted wound, first Menelaus and then Agamemnon step forward to prevent his proper burial.  Such a move -- that is, being denied burial -- was in that culture a deep disgrace within the community and carried unsettling consequences for the departed in the afterlife, such as it existed.

The third of the Greek leaders whom Ajax had attempted to destroy was Odysseus, who nevertheless appears and counsels Agamemnon to relent.  Agamemnon is perplexed. In Greek culture, to rejoice over an enemy's death is deemed fitting, and to put an enemy to public shame is part of winning honor for oneself. At the outset of the play, Athena invites Odysseus into a little playful ridicule of the beguiled Ajax and then matter-of-factly asks him rhetorically, "But to laugh at your enemies-- / What sweeter laugher can there be than that?" (ll. 78-79).  So when later Agamemnon asks Odysseus, "But now he is dead, / Shouldn't you rightly trample on his corpse?" (ll. 1347-1348), Agamemnon's rhetorical question has added cultural and moral force.

The unfolding of events and dialogue in Sophocles' drama raises questions about, among other things, the recognition of nobility even among one's enemies.  Another question, similar to that which the final books of Homer's Iliad give shape, is what honors are owed the dead.  Achilles is checked in his hate of Hector, whom he has killed, by Priam's passionate, paternal intercession.  A suggestion of that epic poem's narrative arc is that even by Greek standards such violence as depicted in it was excessive.  Priam persuades Achilles through appeal to their shared humanity, fellow feeling, and the imaginative empathy that comes from thinking through a situation with exchanged eyes.

In the Ajax, something similar seems to be at work within Odysseus.  Early on, in what is a programmatic speech for the rest of the drama, Odysseus replies to Athena, who wishes for Odysseus to ridicule and gloat over the out-of-mind Ajax because of his reversal of fortune:

… Yet I pity
His wretchedness, though he is my enemy,
For the terrible yoke of blindness that is on him.
I think of him, but also of myself;
For I see the true state of all of us that live—
We are dim shapes, no more, and weightless shadows. (Ajax, ll. 121-26; my emphasis)

Odysseus feels that way about Ajax, conflicted, while Ajax lived and his life was threatened by him.  And so when Ajax has died, his pity takes a different form, as he explains to Agamemnon: "I hated him while it was fair to hate" (l. 1346).  Odysseus courageously implores his commander-in-chief,

Don't cast out this brave man's body
Unburied; don't in the gods' name be so hard.
Vindictiveness should not so govern you
As to make you trample on the right. (ll. 1332-1335)

Agamemnon worries that if he consents to honor Ajax with a proper burial he will look weak: "You'll make me look a coward in this transaction" (l. 1362).  Odysseus counters, "Generous, though, as all the Greeks will say. ... However you do it, you will deserve praise" (ll. 1363, 1369).

In the end, Agamemnon relents, but he still does not regard the fallen Ajax as a hero.  He still detests him and thinks only of his own honor, not that of Ajax.  In contrast, Odysseus can say, as noted above, "But he was noble" (l. 1355).

More than two thousand years later, it remains hard for leaders to look past themselves, past their animosities, and say with a sense of shared humanity, "Yet I pity his wretchedness, though he is my enemy." It remains hard to say, "I think of him, but I think also of myself, for I see the true state of all of us that live." It is still a challenge, even after former opponents and critics have died, to confess, "But he was noble." And it is not just leaders in exceptional circumstances who struggle with this.

On Melville’s "A Utilitarian View of the Monitor’s Fight"

Is the perspective in Herman Melville's Civil War poem about the USS Monitor's naval battle with the CSS Virginia -- the Battle of Hampton Roads -- “utilitarian”?

That is the question I want to pose in a few brief reflections on "A Utilitarian View of the Monitor’s Fight," that appeared in his Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War, published in 1866. I am curious why Melville chooses that word for his title.

Of Rage and the Man

While reflecting in a recent post on the relationship between emotions and moral character, I noted that our culture, it seems, still privileges reason over emotion.  Often this occurs to the denigration or exclusion of  emotion.  It is true:  sometimes human passions can be so powerful as to result in miscalculation and excesses that are contrary to the balance inherent in a virtuous life.  But that is not necessarily the case, as I was reminded while rereading Homer's epic poems. 

Enduring Classical Benefits

In a recent post, I drew attention to a political and ethical tension:  the government's position in the United States to permit gendercide (or female foeticide), which is legal, and the ostensible position of the United States government with respect to other countries regarding the same permitted termination of life, which the Secretary of State has said should be prohibited.

Shortly after making that blog entry, I ran across the following discussion of ethical matters in ancient Greece.  It has to do with the development of moral theory and practice from Homeric myth to fifth-century Athens.  In his A Short History of Ethics, Alasdair MacIntyre discusses the tug of war between nomos (law, custom, convention) and physis (nature), the order of society and the order of the universe, as it relates to one's understanding of virtue and moral expressions within cultures and across them.  I take it that this tug of war is parallel to the tension in the U.S. domestic approach to gendercide through selective abortion and its foreign approach to the same question.

I mention Prof. MacIntyre's discussion for another reason.  It is often asked, Of what benefit or enduring significance are the humanities and especially the study of classics?  One answer might be that such study helps us to understand ourselves, our institutions, and our moral theory and practice -- and to make informed judgments about them -- in ways that we might not do without classical knowledge and some reflection.

I offer the following, then, as evidence of the enduring benefits of a classical education.  The tension in the U.S. is not new.  The Athenians, too, were conflicted.  Who knew, right, that an account of the development of moral reasoning in ancient Greece could be, well, just so relevant to contemporary discussions?  It is.  What, then, might we learn about justice from their experience and moral investigations that can help to improve ours?

Between Homer and writers five centuries later there is a great change in Greek myths about the order of the universe.  The Homeric myth does reflect, though with much distortion, the workings of an actual society in which a close form of functional organization is presupposed by the moral and evaluative forms of appraisal which are in use.  The later assertions of order in the universe reflect not a structure that is, but one that was, or one that is struggling to survive.  They are conservative protests against the disintegration of the older forms and the transition to the city-state.  The myths themselves cannot but open up the question of the difference between the order of the universe and the order of society.  But above all, this question is sharpened by a widening awareness of radically different social orders.

         The impact of the Persian invasions, of colonization, of increase in trade and therefore in travel, all these brings home the fact of different cultures.  The result is that the distinction between what holds good in Egypt but not in Persia, or in Athens but not in Megara, on the one hand, and what is the case universally as part of the order of things becomes overwhelmingly important.  The question asked about any moral rule or social practice is, Is it part of the essentially local realm of nomos (convention, custom) or of the essentially universal realm of physis (nature)?  Linked to this is of course the question, Is it open to me to choose what rules I shall make my own or what restraints I shall observe (as it may be open to me to choose which city I shall live in and what therefore shall be the nomos by which I live)? or does the nature of the universe set limits upon what I may legitimately choose?  (MacIntyre, Short History, 10-11)

… Different cities observe different customs and different laws.  Does and should justice differ from city to city?  Does justice hold only within a given community between citizens? or should it hold also between cities?  The Athenians condemn the character of Alcibiades because he did not observe the restraints of dikaiosune in his behavior within the Athenian state.  But their own envoys behave just like Alcibiades in their attitude toward other states.  That is, they equate what is morally permissible with what the agent has the power to do. (MacIntyre, Short History, 11-12)

Introducing a new blog experiment

I am a reluctant blogger.  The future of this page may demonstrate that.  I have, however, succumbed for the moment to the medium, despite my continuing conflictedness, because I have been encouraged to share some of my thoughts with a slightly wider circle than a few close friends.

Aristotle (384-322 BCE)

This blog is about cultivating wisdom, prudence, practical virtue.  In Aristotle's ethical vocabulary, that is phronēsis.  In his Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle distinguishes phronēsis from sophia as, to put it crudely, universal theory differs from everyday practice.  Both are integral in his view to the pursuit and attainment of aretē, or virtue.  Aristotle aims not at virtue alone, but activity in accordance with virtue.  And that ultimately is what I hope in this blog to explore.


I approach this exploration as a person with many interests and a slightly varied background.  Both (the interests and the background) help to explain the polytropos term in the blog's title.  Homer applies the term to Odysseus, the many-wayed one, to signify in a single word with a broad semantic range the pluriformity of the Ithacan's journeys, experiences, wiles, intelligence, and, yes, practical knowledge.  The author of the New Testament book to the Hebrews uses the term to describe the variety of ways in which God's previous revelatory self-disclosure unfolded.  In terms of this blog, the term polytropos captures well both the position from which I begin this blogging experiment and my intention to traverse more than one or two narrow topics as part of the ultimate cultivation of phronēsis.

Odysseus blinding Polyphemus (Odyssey, bk. 9)

Nevertheless, I anticipate that certain patterns, or pockets, of interest will appear as time passes.  Some clusters of topical reflection will be more extensive than others.  In particular, I expect that many links and posts will be of a political and economic nature.  This is for the basic reason that phronēsis is about the daily, practical outworkings individually and in community of our collected knowledge.  It is about knowing how best to assess the right aims or ends, particularly the end of living well as humans, and how to make real progress toward realizing those desired ends.  


In one sense, politics is -- or, rather, should be -- the intersection of applied prudence and community life.  The ultimate aim of Odysseus's knowledge, shrewdness, and journeys is the restoration of practical relationships in his home and his city-state.  Just as Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics is a natural precursor to the Politics, so the exploration of phronēsis is just a dotted-line divided from political reasoning.  The borders are porous.


It will take many turns to feed this healthy appetite for practical wisdom.  And in some cases it will in fact require these twists and turns simply to create a hunger at all for phronēsis.  It is not something highly valued in general in our culture, and it is not something that comes naturally to us.  Pursuing these paths from different angles is the purpose of the following blog experiment.