"Antigone Donnant la Sépulture à Polynice" (1825) by Jean-Louis Bezard

SUMMARY

Tasked with lightly analyzing the tragic storyline of the Sophoclean play, "Antigone" alongside Plato's "Allegory of the Cave," Alana Taije writes:

"(In relation to:) Antigone was devoted to protecting her brother. Her blatant refusal to disobey her family resulted in her completing [a] solemn and sorrowful cycle of fate... (In relation to Plato's Allegory:) These shadow figures would be their only sense of truth and reality, as [they] ‘would have kept their gaze motionless if not to speak to one another’ (10-13). [They] would have assumed names for their world of shadowy objects and faceless voices, only for one to be ‘freed’."

Antigone’s Devotion

[...] Antigone demonstrates the strongest sense of loyalty. She uses her understanding of fate and passion for her relatives to fuel her emotions, never allowing a single soul to invade her plans, if not to lend a hand in her grand scheme for ‘justice’.

In the Sophoclean tragedy, Polyneices and Eteocles, (the incestual children of Oedipus and his own mother, Jocasta) killed one another in battle, leaving Creon, their closest-living-male-relative, to assume power and rule over Thebes. On Creon’s first day in office, he ruled for Polyneices to be labeled a traitor and to be refused a proper burial, violating the unwritten law protecting the dead. “The thought drives me mad! -- honor for one, dishonor for the other. Eteocles, so they say, [Creon] has treated with justice and customary law, laid him on earth, to be honored by the dead below. As for the battered corpse of Polyneices -- they say it is proclaimed to all the city --  no one is allowed to mourn or entomb, but must leave [him] unburied and unwept, like carrion, sweet pickings for the birds’ pleasure” (22-30). Antigone was outraged with her uncle’s decision and refused advice from her sister, Ismene, begging Antigone not to disturb her brother’s body, going forth and doing so anyway. “He is still my brother -- and yours, whatever you might prefer. I will not betray my duty to him” (45-50).

Although Antigone used her intensive will with noble and pure intention, she created an equally tensed timeline, affecting the rest of her extended bloodline. Antigone had gone out and attempted to bury Polyneices in broad daylight and of course, Creon’s guards arrested and delivered her before him. Creon ordered an impudent Antigone to bed, lying to the public claiming she was ill, only for her to explain she would be going out to pay respects for her brother again, daring even to say within the same night. Antigone and Creon’s motives are not aligned; Antigone will die for her brother, as Creon will die for his kingdom. According to the chorus, “Mortals have no deliverance from fated misfortune,” which Antigone had become so dutifully aware of (1338). She insisted to Creon she could not be saved; Creon begged for her to pity him and live. Of course, she denied his request and told him she was not there to ‘understand’, only to say ‘no’ and die. Antigone stayed in line and kept her deceased brother at heart. She did not disobey Creon as an act of rebellion or to test the waters of her interpersonal relationships; Antigone’s one and only interest throughout the play was to allow her brother true rest and respect in death. She clearly loved him beyond her willfulness to obey an unfair and corrupt law.

Antigone was devoted to protecting her brother. Her blatant refusal to disobey her loyalty to family resulted in her being jailed and having hung herself, with both Creon’s son and wife having commit suicide as well, completing their solemn and sorrowful cycles of fate. Ismene swore to bury Polyneices herself, as Antigone declared Ismene unworthy of death. Haemon killed himself after defending Antigone to his father, stabbing himself and lying beside her in a pool of his own blood. Eurydice, Haemon’s father and Creon’s wife, completed her final row of knitting before isolating in her room and slitting her throat. “Oh, my son! Unknowing, unwilling, I killed you, and you as well, my poor wife… all that I touch goes warped and askew and once again, cruel fate has leapt onto my back, come down on my head” (1340-1355).

Plato’s Enlightened Cave

In Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave”, there is a shared dialectic between Socrates and one of his students, Glaucon. The topic of this particular dialectic had been regarding human beings that had been neglected from all ‘typical’ human settings, raised in an altered or manipulated state, believing their default ‘altered’ state to be their one and only solidified reality. The two, Glaucon and Socrates, went back-and-forth discussing hypotheticals in which they’d become enlightened, or exposed to the ‘true’ reality and the world blossoming outside.

Socrates hypothesized that the atypical humans could be chained to a wall in some sort of cave, with only torches behind them, projecting shadows of themselves and animals and whatnot, of course producing distorted shadow-figures upon the walls before them. These shadow figures would be their only sense of truth and reality, as the proclaimed prisoners ‘would have kept their gaze motionless if not to speak to one another’ (10-13). They would have assumed names for their world of shadowy objects and faceless voices, only for one to be ‘freed’. “Consider, then, what being released from their bonds of ignorance would naturally be like. When one of them was freed and suddenly compelled to stand up, turn his head, walk, and look up toward the light, he’d be pained and dazzled and unable to see the things whose shadows he’d seen before” (15). 

Socrates and Glaucon provided the most modern, reasonable, and understanding outlook of their situational context, because of course, they were only hypothesizing and simply sharing an inquisitive conversation. Glaucon was seemingly only in the text to approve of Socrates’ assumptions, if that. He hardly provided any context or insight and simply allowed his mentor (i assumed), Socrates, to take the lead in the conversation and alter the narrative as he liked. Despite Socrates basically conversing with a brick wall, his metaphors for enlightenment and the inability to return to ‘ignorance’ are truly touching. Socrates seems to consistently and eagerly whip up new ideas and assumptions for his presumed ‘prisoners’, going to Glaucon for occasional questioning and approval. Glaucon’s replies mainly consisted of “of course”, “necessarily so”, “certainly”, “I suppose so”, and many other poorly configured replies.

Socrates went on to analyze his hypothetical and went as far to say the prisoners could be shunned by their peers and blinded by the light of truth, unable to return safely or to progress with much confidence. To this, Socrates adds the prisoner(s) may need extensive periods of adjustment to cope with their newly-found knowledge and reality (21). He delves further into the topic by adding the concept of envy and rage from the prisoners’ peers; the cave-dwellers that were left in the dark may approach the enlightened one with anger and malice, afraid and confused at what new realities are being shoved down their throats and what old ones are being ripped from within. The two concluded that each prisoner, or metaphorical uneducated person, has their own choice and role to play in their own enlightenment. They may poke fun at others but be pitied for their own ignorance, as how a cave-dweller may pity an enlightened prisoner for their knowledge of the world around them, or us. This allegory provides consistent ideas within our own modernity; the questioning of the journey of enlightenment and how eager someone is to pursue it.