Читать книгу The Wounded Woman - Linda Schierse Leonard - Страница 10

Your nature, princess, is indeed noble and true;

But events fester, and divinity is sick.

Euripides

The father-daughter wound is a condition of our culture and, to that extent, the plight of all men and women today. Women frequently are considered inferior to men. Men often are put down if they show feminine qualities. Implicit in the father-daughter wound is a disturbed relation between the masculine and feminine principles.¹ And this affects not only individuals but also partners, groups, and whole societies. Both men and women suffer from it. Both are confused about their own identities and roles vis-à-vis the other.

The roots of the father-daughter wound are deep and can be seen clearly in the Greek drama Iphigenia in Aulis by Euripides. The drama shows how a father comes to sacrifice his daughter and portrays the wound the father feels when he is driven to this end. It also reveals the limited view of the feminine in a patriarchally ruled society. Iphigenia is the oldest and the most beloved daughter of King Agamemnon. And yet, in the play, she is sacrificed, sentenced to death by her very own father, who loves her most dearly. How can this happen? How is it possible for a father to sacrifice a daughter?

At the play’s beginning we find Agamemnon in deep despair, halfway to madness, because he has agreed to the sacrifice of his daughter, Iphigenia. The Hellenes had pledged war on Troy because the Trojan, Paris, had stolen Helen, most beautiful of women and the wife of Agamemnon’s brother, Menelaus. But when the army went to Aulis Bay, ready to sail for battle, there was no wind. Crazed with the lust for battle, the army became impatient and Agamemnon’s rule was threatened. Fearing the loss of his power and glory and the command of the army, Agamemnon consulted an oracle that said he must sacrifice his first-born daughter for the greater glory of Greece. The sacrifice was to be made to the goddess Artemis in exchange for wind to sail. In despair, Agamemnon finally agreed to the decree and sent for Iphigenia, saying that she was to be married to Achilles. But this was only a pretext to get Iphigenia to Aulis for the sacrifice. Later Agamemnon realized the madness of what he had done, but it was too late.

Angrily, Agamemnon accused Menelaus of being a dupe of beauty and of being willing to throw away his reason and honor for it. Menelaus accused Agamemnon of agreeing to the sacrifice of Iphigenia to save his own power. While the two brothers were fighting angrily, Iphigenia arrived, and Agamemnon felt powerless in the grip of fate. Even though Menelaus in a moment of sudden compassion realized he had been wrong and urged Agamemnon not to sacrifice his daughter, Agamemnon now felt compelled to go ahead with it. He was afraid that if he refused, the enraged masses would revolt, sacrificing not only Iphigenia but himself as well. And so King Agamemnon, ruled by his own service to power and to the glory of Greece, and by his fear, felt forced to kill his daughter Iphigenia.

When Iphigenia and her mother, Clytemnestra, arrived in Aulis, they were happy with the plan for Iphigenia to marry Achilles. But Iphigenia found her father strangely sad and worried. And when Agamemnon commanded Clytemnestra to leave Aulis before her daughter’s wedding, she thought this strange and refused. Finally she discovered the plot to sacrifice her daughter and she was outraged. Achilles, too, became angry, learning he had been duped by Agamemnon, and swore to protect Iphigenia with his life. In horrified despair, Clytemnestra confronted Agamemnon with what she had heard. At first he evaded and denied the accusation, but finally he admitted to the awful truth. Incensed, Clytemnestra charged him with more shame—that he had killed her first husband and her baby and had taken her by force. But when her own father condoned the marriage, she submitted and had become an obedient wife. Clytemnestra tried to shame Agamemnon into changing his mind. And Iphigenia pleaded with her father for her life. Both asked why Helen, who was Clytemnestra’s sister and Iphigenia’s aunt, should be more important than his daughter. But Agamemnon, feeling helpless before the demonic lust for power of the army, pledged his first duty to Greece and said he had no other choice.

At first Iphigenia cursed Helen; she cursed her murderous father; and she cursed the lustful army bound for Troy. But when even Achilles was helpless against the army’s raging masses, she gave in. She resolved to die nobly for Greece, since all Hellas looked to her for the sailing of the fleet. Why should Achilles die for her, she asked, when “One man is of more value than a host of women.”² And who was she, a mortal, to oppose the divine Artemis? But the Greek Chorus, speaking for the truth, replied, “Your nature, princess, is indeed noble and true; But events fester, and divinity is sick.”³ Nevertheless, Iphigenia went nobly to her death, absolving her father and telling her mother not to be angry and not to hate him.⁴

What view of the feminine is implied in this drama? Woman is regarded as man’s possession! The three prominent female characters are regarded as objects owned by man. Because Menelaus regards Helen as his possession, the loss of the beautiful Helen initiates the Greeks to war on the Trojans to retrieve her. Clytemnestra, the obedient wife, is regarded by Agamemnon as his to rule. And Iphigenia is a daughter who can be sacrificed by her father. Hence, the feminine is not allowed to reveal itself from its own center, but is reduced to those forms compatible with the prevailing masculine view.

At the same time, the prevailing masculine goal is power; man’s first duty is to Greece, no matter what the cost. Helen’s seduction by Paris is really an opportunity for the Greeks to make war on the Trojans. As Agamemnon later realizes when it is too late, “A strange lust rages with demonic power throughout the Hellene army…”⁵ And it is this power lust which ultimately demands Iphigenia’s sacrifice.

This drama also shows a split within the feminine. One role is allotted to Helen who personifies beauty. Another is given to Clytemnestra, the obedient and dutiful wife and mother. These two forms of the feminine are the only roles for women that this play presents. The feminine realm is devalued by being reduced to the service of men either through beauty or obedience. The ideal of beauty reduces the woman’s worth to a mere projection of men’s desire and puts her in the puella position of girl-like dependence. And dutiful obedience reduces her to the status of servant to a male master. In each case she exists not in and of herself, but has her identity only in relation to man’s needs. The father, King Agamemnon, supports this devaluation of the feminine when ultimately he agrees to sacrifice his daughter so that the Greeks can bring back Helen. And he expects his wife, Clytemnestra, to be ruled by his decree. His own ambition and need for power is primary, and the welfare of his daughter is only secondary.

Just as the two sisters, Helen and Clytemnestra, personify the split feminine ideals of beauty and obedience, so the two brothers, Menelaus and Agamemnon, are ruled in soul by these two opposites. Menelaus, the boyish brother, is so captivated by Helen’s beauty that he is willing to sacrifice all else—a whole army of men and even his niece’s life. In contrast, Agamemnon has sold his soul to serve Greece’s lust for power and for his own ambition to be king even though this position isolates him and cuts him off from expressing his human fatherly feelings. Perhaps the worst wound Agamemnon suffers is to be cut off from his tears. As he confesses:

What a man-trap of compulsive Fate I have fallen into! Some divine power, cleverer than all my cleverness has tricked and defeated me. To be low-born, I see, has its advantages: A man can weep, and tell his sorrows to the world. A king endures sorrows no less; but the demand for dignity governs our life, and we are slaves to the masses. I am ashamed to weep; and equally I am ashamed not to weep, in such a depth of grief.⁶

What is the trap that Agamemnon, the king and father, has fallen into? Spirit seems to be impotent, symbolized by the lack of wind. And as the Chorus has announced: “…events fester, and divinity is sick.” Agamemnon is caught in man’s willful striving for power in the name of Greece, and so his daughter is sacrificed in the name of this end to be the soul of Greece. And this requires her death as human. The king, as the visible manifestation of the divine principle, endorses values that are consciously recognized by the culture. In this culture, the feminine is reduced in value to being merely the object of masculine ends. Hence in the drama the women have no real power. Helen, as a beauty object, is seduced. Clytemnestra, as wife, is to obey her husband’s rule. As a mother, she does have some rule in the home, but when it comes to saving her daughter’s life, she is powerless. Iphigenia, as daughter, is to be sacrificed for the political power of the state. As she says to Agamemnon when she pleads for her life, “…my tears are my one magic; I’ll use them, for I can weep.”⁷ But her pure innocence and her tears are of no avail when political power is the highest value. Thus, the culture’s devaluation of the feminine, which King Agamemnon endorses, leads to the sacrifice of his daughter. And although Iphigenia is pure and noble and forgives her father when she sees the finality of his position, with her submission to her fate she finally acknowledges this devaluation of the feminine. She sacrifices herself for Greece and declares “One man is of more value than a host of women.” Accepting the soul projection of her father, she says:

…let my father pace around the altar, following the sun. I come to give to all Hellenes deliverance and victory! Lead me, a maiden born to overthrow great Troy and all her people.⁸

Iphigenia, in becoming the soul of Greece, gives up her own feminine identity and the value of her tears “…since at the altar is no place for tears.”⁹ But although she submits and forgives, her mother, left in rage and grief, cannot forgive. And so the story of the family is continued when, in other plays, Clytemnestra murders Agamemnon to revenge Iphigenia’s death, and in retribution of his father’s death, the son, Orestes, murders his mother, Clytemnestra.¹⁰

The father-daughter sacrifice has its roots in the dominance of masculine power over the feminine. When the masculine is cut off from feminine values, when it does not allow the feminine principle to manifest itself in its own way out of its own center, when it does not allow the feminine its manifold number of forms but reduces it only to those which serve masculine ends, it loses its relation to the values of the feminine realm. It is then that the masculine becomes brute-like and sacrifices not only the outer woman but also its inner feminine side.

The image of this condition is expressed by Hexagram 12, “Standstill-Stagnation,” found in the I Ching, the Chinese Taoist book of wisdom. The I Ching’s basic image of the cosmos and of human existence is based on the relationship between the feminine and masculine principles. When these two polarities are in harmonic relationship, there is the source for growth, spirit, and creativity—for the union of masculine and feminine wisdom. But when the feminine and masculine principles are out of harmony, there is the condition for chaos and destruction.

In Hexagram 12, “Standstill-Stagnation,” the masculine principle (heaven) is above, and the feminine principle (earth) is below. About this relationship between the masculine and feminine, the I Ching says:

Heaven is above, drawing farther and farther away, while the earth below sinks farther into the depths. The creative powers are not in relation…. Heaven and earth are out of communion and all things are benumbed. What is above has no relation to what is below, and on earth confusion and disorder prevail.¹¹

The I Ching goes on to say that with this constellation, mutual mistrust prevails in public life and fruitful activity is impossible because the relation between the two fundamental principles is wrong. Such is the relation between the masculine and feminine portrayed by Euripides in Iphigenia in Aulis. The disturbed relation between the masculine and feminine principles may exist within each person as well as between individuals, from the viewpoint of Jungian psychology. Every woman has a masculine side, often hidden in her unconscious psyche. Conversely, every man has a feminine side, which is frequently unconscious and unavailable to him. The task of personal growth for an individual is to become aware of this contrasexual side, to value it, and to express it consciously in the appropriate situation. When the contrasexual side is accepted and valued, it becomes a source of energy and inspiration, enabling a creative union of the masculine and feminine principles within the person as well as a creative relationship between men and women.

The feminine, when it is so devalued and suppressed, eventually becomes enraged and demands its due in primitive fashion, as Clytemnestra in revenge killed Agamemnon. The father-daughter sacrifice, then, not only affects the development of women but the inner development of men as well. Agamemnon is as injured and in despair, as unfree in life, as is his daughter, Iphigenia.

The split in the masculine between lust for beauty and lust for power and its corresponding split in the feminine between beautiful one (eternal girl) and dutiful one (armored amazon) is manifested in the drama between the warring brothers (Menelaus and Agamemnon) and the poorly related sisters (Helen and Clytemnestra). This fracture of opposites is entailed in the father-daughter wound. The masculine split into these two opposites in turn reduces the feminine ideal to beauty and duty. Both brothers use women; the one for pleasure, the other for power. Iphigenia, personifying the feminine potential, initially protests this situation, but eventually submits to the power goal.

The sacrifice is made to Artemis, the virgin goddess of the hunt, because Agamemnon killed one of Artemis’ stags without honoring her. In some myths Agamemnon even claimed to be a greater hunter than Artemis, who, in anger, stilled the winds and demanded Iphigenia’s sacrifice.¹² Artemis was neglected by Agamemnon. Psychologically viewed, the neglect of a goddess shows that the aspect of the psyche which she represents has not been valued consciously. As a virgin goddess, Artemis symbolizes the virginal quality of being at one-in-herself, an inner attitude of feminine centeredness and independence.¹³ One of Artemis’ functions is to protect young girls at the age of puberty and teach them to be independent. This is what has been dishonored by Agamemnon and the prevailing cultural values. The feminine has had no effect on the masculine consciously. Ultimately, Agamemnon doesn’t listen to either his wife or daughter. Neither has he allowed the feminine independence, nor does he respect one of the greatest of goddesses, Artemis. He values only his own power, taking what he wants, e.g., Artemis’ stag. Perhaps Artemis demands this sacrifice to show Agamemnon what he loses by devaluing the feminine. To lose his daughter, a symbol of his own feminine potential, shows the consequences of his power attitude. If a man tramples over the feminine, he loses his relationship to it. So in one sense, the sacrifice to Artemis is necessary to honor this feminine independence.

Although Iphigenia in Aulis is a Greek drama written around 405 B.C., the same situation continues in our present day Western culture. The feminine is still reduced in many men’s eyes to dutiful wife or beautiful mistress, or a variation on these themes. Many women still find themselves living for men and not for themselves. Some women, in reaction, have begun to break away and realize themselves in the professions. But too often in order to break out of the puella dependency, they imitate the masculine model and so perpetuate the devaluation of the feminine. In contrast, other women who feel powerless and become enraged like Clytemnestra may overtly be dutiful to the system but covertly they express their anger; for example, by eliminating sex, having an affair in retaliation, charging up their husbands’ credit cards, drinking too much, becoming sick and hypochondriacal or depressed and suicidal, etc.

Perhaps the greatest wound the man suffers is not to acknowledge his own wound—to be unable to weep. Many fathers, under the illusion that they must always be right and self-justified in order to maintain their control and authority, and many men caught up in the power goals of control and achievement in our technological age, find themselves in this condition. They have lost the power of their tears and they have failed to honor their own young, tender, feminine side. Like Agamemnon, they have sacrificed their “inner daughter” in the name of their own power. Or like his brother, Menelaus, they may have succumbed to the power of the outer woman and have lost access to their own genuine inner femininity. In either case, the independent feminine spirit is not honored and is lost.

In many ways, Iphigenia in Aulis provides an image for today: chaos and lust for power still prevail between the sexes; spirit (the harmonic relation between the feminine and masculine principles) still has not been found to be moving effectively in the lives of most men and women. But at least questions abound, and where there are questions, there is quest, consciousness, and hope of breaking through the inadequate existing patterns.

Many modern day Iphigenias exist in our culture, suffering from a narrow vision of femininity, a narrow vision which is imbedded in the culture and frequently in personal fathers and mothers as well. These women are often angry and aware that the images allotted to women in our patriarchal culture have been influenced by men’s inadequate relation to femininity. Nevertheless, they feel trapped and helpless.

Joan, a talented and attractive woman in her forties, is an example. She grew up feeling that the ideal woman should be like Helen—most beautiful, most desirable, a woman who could attract all men by her looks and who also could be and do whatever the man needed and desired. This image, supported by the culture, came also in part from her parents. Her mother, who suffered from a split within her own femininity, was cute, youthful, and dependent (the eternal girl), yet with an overface of the independent fighter (the armored amazon) who was unable to let go and enjoy the sexual relationship with her husband. Her father, frustrated in his marriage, loved his daughter, probably too much, so the daughter most likely received his unconscious wishes for a love relationship and also his guilt feelings about this.