It’s very easy to live out your beliefs when the law allows this, but what do you do when the law won’t let you act on them?
This is the question Sophocles asks in Antigone, a Greek drama written around 441 BC titled after its central character. This tragic story follows the surviving house of Oedipus, as they deal with conflicting questions of duty shedding light on the questions of conscience that confront us today.
In the aftermath of civil war and destruction, the new King of Thebes declares that Antigone’s brother, Polynices, will be “left unburied, his corpse carrion for the birds and dogs to tear” while Eteocles, their brother, would be honoured for defending the city of Thebes.
Antigone decides to ignore the new King, her uncle Creon, and instead bury her brother, her familial obligation to him over ruling the edicts of the King. She tells him:
“Nor did I think your edict had such force that you, a mere mortal, could override the gods, the great unwritten unshakable traditions.”
“These laws—I was not about to break them, not out of fear of some man’s wounded pride, and face the retribution of the gods.”
In Ancient Greece, it was considered a disgrace if one didn’t bury their family members properly. It was thought that someone who wasn’t buried wouldn’t receive proper rest in the afterlife and that this would be like treating them as animals.
The burial rites and customs were considered ordained by the gods. This was part of life where religion and family obligation governed.
But while Antigone emphasises these divine laws and duty to family, Creon emphasises the political laws and duty to country. Polynices is a traitor and should be treated as one, a sentiment that would have been shared by the audience. In declaring that he not be buried, Creon believes he is upholding the duty to honour the city, and its political order, something the gods also commanded.
To the ancient Greek audience, as to a modern audience, we can see why this predicament presented on the stage might bring some discomfort. Both honouring one’s family, and honouring the city, are necessary parts of life. Even Christ acknowledges that when He says to give to Caeser what is Caeser’s, but to God what is God’s.
So, what do you do when these duties come into conflict? Humans, it seems, have been asking this question for some time—at least since Sophocles wrote in the fifth century BC, if not earlier as some biblical literature would indicate. The biggest conflict that Antigone highlights is that between the physical and the metaphysical. While Creon is given charge of that which is seen, the political realm, he attempts to acts with a metaphysical authority that he doesn’t really have, and in the end he is punished for it. Antigone’s quest to bury her brother’s body is not simply because it’s not very nice to leave a body out for dogs and birds to feast on, but because it means something metaphysically. While the two cannot be separated, they can be differentiated, and in some cases go against one another.
The physical and metaphysical divide is at the heart of most conscience issues that we face, and the fact that this is something that was being played out on the stage so long ago points to it being more than a product of its time, but something that is part of human nature.
