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Cosmopolitan Man and the Political Community: An Interpretation of Othello

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  01 August 2014

Allan D. Bloom*
Affiliation:
University of Chicago

Extract

In the world of today the existence of a common humanity has been established, negatively at least, by a common fear of a common extinction. Only rational beings fear thermonuclear annihilation; only rational beings can create such means of annihilation. An unprecedented danger supplies a new kind of evidence for the oldest thesis in political philosophy: man is by nature a rational and political animal. The roots of man's humanity, as of his inhumanity, are in the political community, and in the political community's capacity for making war or peace. As the growth from the roots reaches what were once the heavens, the problem of reconciling the origins with the ends attains an acute proportion. Can the new awareness of the commonness of our common humanity cause the fashioning of institutions and men equal to the problem that that very humanity has created? Can the particularity that characterizes individual races, nations, creeds—the particularity that has, from the known origins of political life until the present, provided the substance of political life both in its misery and in its glory—can that particularity transform itself into universality, as the finest and ultimate fruit of human reason? Or may the consummation of rationality, as it is given us to know it, be found in its own self-extinction?

In pondering these ever new questions we turn again to the oldest wisdom of our kind. We have too long neglected the understanding of Shakespeare, perhaps because the brilliance of his art has blinded us to his political genius. Shakespeare lived through a decisive period in the emergence of modern society and thought; and he presented in living tableaux the human problems created by the new world opening before him. That he does not offer solutions nor formulas does not justify ignoring him. Before political scientists can proceed to the suggestion of policies, they must perceive the problems in the fullness of their complexity. In Shakespeare's works is to be found as complete a range of human types as any man is likely to meet in his lifetime, and they are viewed with an eye that penetrates more deeply than that of any common observer. The art of the poet brings to consciousness psychological depths that have not been fathomed by any other method.

Type
Research Article
Copyright
Copyright © American Political Science Association 1960

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References

* For a similar attempt see H. V. Jaffa, “The Limits of Politics: An Interpretation of King Lear, Act I, Scene i,” this Review, June, 1957, pp. 405–427.

1 Characteristicks (London, 1727), Vol. 1, pp. 347–350.

2 For this reason Iago is never able to work directly on Desdemona: if she has vices they are not of the self-interested variety. He has no way of acting on her, no lever with which to move her. Iago can only influence those around Desdemona and hence accomplish her disaster.

3 Act I, Scene i, 78. All references are to the Furness Variorum edition of Othello (Philadelphia, 1886).

4 I, i, 118, cf. 86–88; I, ii, 13–19.

5 I, ii, 78–98; cf. I, iii, 75–79.

6 I, iii, 115–117; cf. II, i, 229–31; III, iii, 259–263.

7 cf. Bradley, A. C., Shakespearean Tragedy, pp. 198203 (London, 1929).Google Scholar In addition to Bradley's excellent reasonings it may be mentioned that Aaron the Moor in Titus Adronicus is black and that the Prince of Morocco in the Merchant of Venice is apparently so (II, i, 1–16; II, vii, 81). In Othello there are these references to his color: I, i, 72, 96–97, 116 (Barbary horses were black); ii, 87–88, iii, 320–321; II, ii, 48; III, iii, 308. Black clearly does not mean Moorish as we understand it, but simply black. Shakespeare had a definite dramatic purpose in making Othello as black as possible and could rely on the convention of the threatre and the inexperience of the audience to permit this alteration of reality.

8 cf. I, i, 105–153; I, ii, 78–98; I, iii, 75–79; II, i, 254–270.

9 Cf. Merchant of Venice, II, ii and vii; Othello, I, i, 16–18; II, i, 255–256. The Prince of Morocco speaks of war and his own heroism; he has a high-flown and dramatic manner of speech different from that of the other characters; he speaks of his high birth and uses it as a justification for his suit; and he too seems sincerely attached to the beautiful Venetian.

10 The fact that Othello mentions his own high lineage (I, ii, 22–27) can well mean that he feels he must do so. He protests the fact. It is probable that his royal birth was not recognized at Venice and, if it was, nevertheless was not considered to constitute equality with Venetian nobility. Even if Othello is himself really persuaded that he comes from stock as good as that into which he has married, Brabantio does not accept it as such.

11 I, iii, 290–293; cf. Furness' excellent note, pp. 75–76; III, iii, 309–310.

12 Desdemona's “I saw Othello's visage in his mind,” I, iii, 280; cf. note 8.

13 This is a possibility hinted at by both Iago and the Duke, and somewhat supported by Othello's judicious choice of the moment of marriage, when he was most needed: I, ii, 60–61, iii, 195, 252–254 ff.; cf. I, i, 162–168. Both charges, that Othello used drugs and that he was a fortune hunter, are in some measure justified by the event, although not in the vulgar way intended by their authors. He did bewitch Desdemona by his stories more powerful than any drug; and he was seeking a place in the world.

14 I, i, 162–168.

15 This is precisely what Shaftesbury objects to. He sees Othello as a talker and not a doer. He impresses Desdemona with lies (cf. Iago, II, i, 255–257) and touches her naive phantasy. Such stories are a great danger, and even the Bible because of its strangeness is not, according to Shaftesbury, a suitable source for the stories of poets. The proper subjects with which to impress the young are those that are probable and within the compass of reason. Only pretenders who wish to overwhelm and cause suspension of the critical faculties behave as does Othello. Shaftesbury apparently believes that such stories as those of “men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders” were evident falsehoods and meant to be understood as such by Shakespeare.

16 That a city is not something that one can just choose is clearly Shakespeare's view; one need only consider the political settings of the various plays and especially those of the historical works. There are different national characters and the kind of action which is typical varies from place to place: the plays situated in ancient Rome are certainly very different in men and interest from those that take place in modern Venice or Verona. Long tradition, stock, climate, and laws change everything. There are very few plays of Shakespeare which could be imagined as taking the same course in another locale. Titus Andronicus is in a way a comedy concerning a man born out of his time, if not place; and much of the often remarked absurdity of the piece comes from the fact of Titus Andronicus's attempt to act like an old Roman gentleman among oriental barbarians. Not many heroes in Shakespeare could easily be transferred in time or place and still retain the decisive aspects of their characters, or still deal with the same problems; Prospero is perhaps one. But simple cosmopolitanism from a Shakespearean standpoint would rob men of all that is interesting in them, bringing about a unity at the lowest common denominator. Dramatically speaking, at least, most great men are great because they are devoted to the highest goals of a particular political entity which has chosen, willfully or no, to develop one aspect of the human possibility at the sacrifice of others; old Romans cannot live as modern Danes do; and, if one attempted to combine the two, the deepest features of both would be lost. And to participate in a particular political community depends upon birth and education, upon accidents.

17 This to prove that he should be treated well by Venetians. cf. note 10.

18 Precisely what he has done for Venice, we do not learn. But that he has a great repute as a leader is made clear enough: I, iii, 249–252; IV, i, 295–296.

19 This question evidently preoccupied Shakespeare very much for he treats of it again, in another way, in Coriolanus. This is the case of a man very much at home in Rome but who resents his dependence on what he considers to be the vulgar mass; he wants to be free of what created him; and, in attempting to liberate himself, he loses his soul. The problem is again to what extent the hero is free of those who acclaim him. Coriolannus is very conscious of the problem, whereas Othello is not; this is why the former leaves Rome and the latter can stay in Venice.

20 II, ii, 194–196; V, ii, 427–429; II, ii, 373–375; V, ii, 36–37. Brabantio calls him a pagan, I, ii, 121.

21 I, i, 162–168. The Duke asks after a certain Marcus Luccicos, who, as it turns out, is not in Venice; he sends after Marcus in the same terms in which he sent after Othello: I, iii, 52–56; cf. I, ii, 43–45.

22 Othello's victory over Brabantio in the hearing before the Duke is a good model of the strengths and weaknesses of his situation. The moment at which Brabantio must make his plea is a troubled and confused one, the state is endangered and foreign threats cause Othello to be needed. When they enter together, the confident Brabantio (I, ii, 115–121) is completely ignored by the suave Duke who looks to Othello immediately (I, iii, 60 ff.). The justice of the case is evidently not so much to be considered as the cur rent crisis and the fact that Othello is indispensable in it. The ordinary order of respect and indulgence is temporarily abridged. The Duke is polite to Brabantio (it is questionable how much Brabantio's person, as opposed to his position, wealth and family, was actually respected in the city, for he had not been called to the council and he was to have been found at home); and when he hears Brabantio's complaint he promises all support before he finds out who is responsible. As soon as he hears Othello's name, he changes his tone and gives Othello every chance to defend himself. One can well wonder how the Duke would have behaved in other conditions, and if he would then have permitted such a marriage without the father's consent or allowed a foreigner such rights in the city. At all events he supports Othello while trying to assuage Brabantio. He moralizes with the em bittered Brabantio who justly responds that it is easy for one who is unhurt to give sympathy. The Duke is a subtle statesman: he attempts to give the appearance of per fect morality while keeping his eye on the expedient. Shakespeare expresses this beautifully by putting the Duke's moralizing into rhyming verse. Afterwards he reverts to ordinary prose as soon as he is able to treat of the serious business at hand.

He gets over what is for him the very inconvenient and unpleasant affair of Desdemona's marriage with rhetoric to return to the important consideration, which has really determined his decision; and real business is prosaic (I, iii, 225–254). But Othello's advantage in a crisis disappears with his very success. In the first lines of the play, Iago irritates Roderigo's civic pride by presenting Othello as a foreigner lording it over the native nobility (I, i, 12–14). The prejudice is always lying in wait for the moment when no compelling reasons demand its repression. cf. I, i, 138–139, 148–158. Brabantio remains in Venice and is still a force to be reckoned with; the anger of Brabantio can make the Duke uncomfortable, for Brabantio is always in Venice and is independent of any appointment or crisis; Othello can be sent away and forgotten with no inconvenience to anyone if there is no external danger to the state. Perhaps Othello's recall was Brabantio's doing? At least this is what Desdemona guesses that Othello suspects (IV, ii, 53–56).

23 cf. note 18.

24 II, ii, 291–305. Iago can very well appreciate the ambiguous character of reputation for he enjoys a good one himself. But when Iago speaks to Othello, he does so as though there were nothing questionable in reputation (III, ii, 181–188). He knows his man. A noble man never does anything that is considered shameful and the opinion of his fellows is the guarantee of his own goodness. A man who cares about his reputation is likely to perform acts of a nature to gain it; while the man who consults only his private inclinations is likely to be base. But, if reputation is a fickle thing, then the whole orientation of the gentleman or the proud man is placed in doubt. The perfect disciple of Othello is Cassio; he believes completely in Othello; this is the source of his unquestioning devotion and makes him a perfect lieutenant. But, from what he suffers and the undeserving way he loses his reputation, the lesson would seem to be that it is folly to live for the sake of others who do not understand and are acting from their own passions. Cassio expresses what his faith in Othello means when he says that reputation is the immortal part of himself (II. ii. 291–292; cf. 117–135; Romans IX, 18; VIII, 24).

25 I, iii, 190–191; III, iii, 218.

26 Plato, , Symposium, 189c193e, 199d–204cGoogle Scholar; the Lysis (in toto) and Aristotle, , Metaphysics, XII, vii, 4 Google Scholar; Cervantes, Don Quixote, Part I, Ch. xiv. This is so even in the highest sort of love, the good man who admires another good man because he sees his own virtues mirrored in the other and can honor them as he could not his own. Such love is based on the need for mutual admiration and a completion of one's own imperfect virtues. cf. Aristotle, , Nichomachean Ethics IX, ix.Google Scholar

27 II, ii, 376–379. Shakespeare vividly depicts Othello's first consciousness of the depth and intensity of his need when, after Iago's first tentative barbs, Desdemona arrives to plead for Cassio. He for the first time is a little vexed; all is not perfect as formerly but as she goes away he cannot help admiring her and says, “Excellent wretch!” (III, iii, 104–106). He sees, with a certain pleasure, that he needs her very much and that it is somewhat in spite of himself, that it has nothing to do with right or justice. A few moments later, when his suspicions become explicit, he denies this and says he would let her go if she were false; he soon realizes that whatever she be, he must possess her or kill her, that he cannot do without her.

28 The importance of Desdemona to Othello as a tribute is clear when his rage against her reaches its height at the moment he is recalled by Venice. The crude impression which those who witness it have, that he is disturbed by losing his position, is not totally unjustified, with the qualification that it be understood in the deep sense in which his position is meaningful to him. He is ambitious, but in no vulgar way (IV, i, 231–317).

29 III, iii, 158–160.

30 III, iii, 455–456, 471–486, 499–501. By the beginning of Act IV the discussion of the meaning of physical acts has turned into a gruesome and tantalizing game (IV, i, 1–26). The obscenity of Iago is founded on that which is revered by others. For both Brabantio and Othello, the purity of Desdemona is all in all. The shocking aspect of Iago's speech is not that he speaks freely about sensual matters, but that for others these things are sacred and Iago profanes what is holy for them. It is only in the context of reverence that Iago's speech is terrible; it is a sort of blasphemy. The relation between Othello and Desdemona, if there is any physical element to it at all, is largely a spiritual one. When he realizes that perhaps physical satisfactions are important for her and he sees his own insufficiency in this regard, her possible infidelity becomes all the more horrible for him. It is not only that she cares for another but that her being is so constituted that he could never satisfy her. He must insist not only on fidelity but chastity; he must change her nature and all men's natures, and all this not for the sake of morality but to preserve for himself that which he wants.

31 God's jealousy in relation to Israel in the Old Testament is interpreted in parable as the relation of a man to a faithless woman (Ezekiel 16, 38); and, in general, the action of God is understood in analogy to the conduct of husbands. Because of the sanctity of marriage, the husband's care gains greater justice, and because of the holiness of the husband's jealousy, the analogy of God's jealousy to that of man is not obnoxious. Jealousy, the emotion accompanying the suspicion of infidelity, is not an important theme outside the Biblical tradition. “Ein Beleg für die Bdtg. Eifersucht speziell im Verhältniss von Ehegatten ist mir im klass. Griech. nicht begegnet” ( Stumpf, A. in Kittel's, Theologische Wörterbuch Zum Neuen Testament, Stuttgart, 1935, p. 879).Google Scholar No treatment of the subject can be found in Greek literature on the passions. At the least, it can be said that fidelity to, and love of, God take on a new and special sense when it is understood that God commands them because he is jealous. The magnitude of Othello's jealousy, both in its understanding of marriage and its imitatio Dei, is inconceivable without the Bible.

Shakespeare draws out the parallel in presenting the relationship between Othello and Desdemona as spiritual with the physical motivations appearing as the great sin. Immediately before declaring his jealousy, the God of the Old Testament specifies the meaning of infidelity: the worship of physical objects—all that paganism implied (Exodus xx, 4–6; cf. IV, i, 137).

32 II, ii, 232–234; III, iii, 417–419; V, ii, 110, 57 (cf. Mark iv, 39), 165 (cf. Deut, xxii, 21), 167 (cf. Gen. xlix, 4). Othello's arrogation of god-like prerogatives is clearest in the assurance with which he judges, prior to his jealousy in a calm confidence in his superiority to others, later in the righteous intensity of his fury. When he learns he was in error, he is nothing—he is either perfection or nothingness.

33 III, iii, 205–221.

34 II, ii, 229–234, 288–292.

35 Othello does indeed begin by demanding deeds, ocular proof, as was his custom. He does not want to be led by simple sentiments; he wants to do justice. But Iago skillfully shows him that in such matters direct proof is impossible and Othello is satisfied with ritual proofs turned into “confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ” (III, iii, 375–377) by the mad assurance that all men are base and inclined to acts of treachery; jealousy presupposes guilt and seeks for substantiation (III, iii, 219–221, 415–514).

36 III, iii, 312–314; III, iv. 46–52; IV, i, 9–12; ii, 24–27. At the end, even the stars are the signs of a cosmic chastity, V, ii, 4.

37 III, iv, 43–56.

38 Iago's use of morality is fully conscious and based on his observation of Othello. Actually, the attitude he takes is much nearer that of those who are attached to Othello than his own natural one. Cassio, when dismissed by Othello, speaks in terms worthy of the most severe moralist, “the devil wine, the devil anger,” etc. In talking to him, Iago takes a reasonable and tolerant line (II, ii, 292–343). Cassio orients himself according to the pleasure and displeasure of Othello and in his fall from grace blames himself with extraordinary severity; rather than trying to reestablish himself, he falls into a state of repentance and self-castigation. Desdemona is much the same way. Both torment only themselves and Iago sees where this attitude can lead if made cynical use of. If those who love Othello are dependent on his opinion and he is jealous and frightened of losing their love, Iago, by playing on Othello's fear can cause him to make more and more demands on others and so further his own ends (e.g., his suggestion that fear is the best way to control Desdemona, III, iii, 236–238). All he need do is present Othello with new dangers and his standards become ever higher and sterner. Othello's sick fears convert innocent human acts into crimes. The height of the morality comes only from Iago's low view of men. Cassio's harmless weakness at drink and his love for women can in this context be converted into mortal sins. It is interesting to note that Othello's tyranny is prefigured by Brabantio's reaction upon recognizing that he is deceived, I, iii, 221–224.

39 III, iv, 68–81. Shakespeare has taken the handkerchief, a much less significant element in the source, Cinthio's novella, and rendered it a magic charm in which the whole proof of Othello's suspicions is centered and fulfilled. It is the sole and sufficient cause of Desdemona's death.

40 V, ii, 110.

41 V, ii, 304–307; cf. III, iii, 403–413.

42 I, iii, 113–115; I, ii, 83.

43 I, iii, 166–168; II, i, 255–257.

44 In this etymology of the name I follow Shaftesbury in considering it to be derived from the Greek δεισιδαίμων, while the later interpreters have unanimously understood it as stemming from δνσδαίμων, meaning ill-starred or ill-fated. One cannot of course lean too heavily on the supposed etymology of a name in the interpretation of a play, especially when that etymology is itself disputable. But it seems certain that Shakespeare often chose names which had an overtone of their bearer's character (cf. Ruskin, , Munera Pulveris in Works, London, 1905, p. 257)Google Scholar; and in this case both meanings would apply extremely well. My preference for the meaning superstitious is grounded on a general observation of her nature and the suitability of applying such a term to her. As far as I am able to see there are no philological grounds for the preference of the one interpretation over the other, so that one must rely on one's interpretation of the play to justify the sense of the name. If the interpretation is convincing, the name gives a certain added weight. The other interpreters who have treated this problem have based their choice almost exclusively on a belief that Desdemona was unlucky and that this constitutes her essence; the meaning of her name is only an expression of this. The burden of this essay has been to prove that it is not simply ill fortune that constitutes the core of her tragedy. The reader must himself judge of the plausibility of the two etymologies because scholarship can go no further. As is frequent in scholarly matters, an assumption as to the certitude of a questionable interpretation seems to provide scientific proof of issues really contingent on that interpretation. Only if a Shaftesbury is certainly wrong in his understanding of Othello can it be definitely decided that ill-starred is what was meant by Shakespeare.

Whatever confirming evidence there is, is ambiguous. Shakespeare's source, Cinthio, contained only this one name which was taken over by Shakespeare. In Cinthio, the name almost certainly means ill-starred; but this does not prove that Shakespeare could not have altered this just as he re-interprets the entire character and gives it a new significance. One relevant fact is that Shakespeare alters Cinthio's spelling of the name; in the novella it is Disdemona. The i or y are the conventional transliterations of the Greek υ which would clearly seem to mean that the etymology is δυσδαίμων. Shakespeare's substitution of e for i, if it is not for inevident reasons of euphony, would render the name closer to δεισιδαίμν. From Theophrastus, if not earlier, on down, the δεισιδαίμων or superstitious man is one of the conventional human types, a character that is painted in literature for the sake of instructing audiences about common and dangerous errors. Plutarch wrote a treatise about it which could easily have been read by Shakespeare. In Plutarch's work, the superstitious man is contrasted with the atheist—presented as having contrary false opinions about the nature of the gods. The two characters, as outlined by Plutarch, have striking similarities to Desdemona and Iago respectively.

Finally, the two derivatives are not necessarily mutually exclusive, see below, p. 154. cf. Upton, John, Critical Observations on Shakespeare (London, 1746), p. 288 Google Scholar; Hales, John Wesley, Notes and Essays on Shakespeare, London, 1884, p. 111 Google Scholar; Tesch, Albert, “Zum Namen Desdemona,” Germanisch-Romanische Monatsschrift, XVII (1929), pp. 587588.Google Scholar

45 IV, iii, 66–116, 24–26, ii, 81, 131–145, 177–193; III, iii, 89–96, 103, iv, 162–176.

46 V, ii, 255–261.

47 III, iv, 95–104.

48 V, ii, 147–156. Othello has smothered Desdemona at line 105 and is persuaded she is dead by line 116. Whether Shakespeare meant that she return to life, or Othello was mistaken and she was not yet quite dead, Desdemona's words, coherent sentences uttered after strangulation, constitute a remarkable occurrence, outside the natural order of things. This difficulty has often been noted. I suggest that this last supreme effort of the poor creature was intended to give a supernatural impression to the audience, and that attempts to rationalize it, by changing the manner of her death or otherwise, miss the meaning. Precisely because of the improbability of what she does, do we know of the intensity of Desdemona's devotion and faith; she gives it a significance beyond the human in a play distinguished by its merely human context, one in which the cosmic reverberations characterizing Shakespeare's other great tragedies are absent. In the theatre, especially that of Shakespeare, improbabilities are the devices for the expression of greater but unutterable probabilities.

49 IV, ii, 150.

50 I, i, 169, 121–122, iii, 427; II, ii, 310–312, 323–325, 381–382; III, iv, 50; V, ii, 351–352.

51 Macaulay made an able one, cited in the Furness Variorum, pp. 412–413.

52 I, i, 71; cf. Exodus, iii, 14; cf. III, iii, 103.

53 I, iii, 350–390.

54 II, i, 119–191. In this scene all of Iago's little rhymes reflect Desdemona's situation in one way or another, especially the central one.

55 Othello, on the contrary, believed that men are fundamentally what they seem to be (III, iii, 139–151; cf. I, iii, 422–425). Iago has made the distinction between seeming and being, and everything he does is based on it. One must live for the real which is radically different from the apparent while seeming to be what one is not. He can use Othello because Othello cares so much about appearance; and because, once he too has begun to distrust appearance, he believes in the possible reality of anything. Iago's, “I never found a man who knew how to love himself” (I, iii, 344–345), is the expression of the moral attitude that is the result of his views.

56 I, i, 45–70.

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