The new is always for us to know. We don’t exactly understand it until we experience it. Literature helps us know the best ways on how to respond because we don’t want to pretend as if nothing is happening by under-reacting. There are multiple response strategies. But what can a literary response entail? Since the stories we tell matter and we are the stories we tell, retell, accept and reject, what are the stories that can speak and relate the most to our times? What are the stories that are qualified by epistemology, ontology, psychology, sociology, and most important, theodicy? The question is how our texts speak to us in this dynamic.
Let’s begin with the classics. A classic speaks directly to our experiences and helps the readers qualify their experiences. The hysteria that develops in Dickens’s Tale of Two Cities and the ways in which this hysteria leads to the destruction of a neighbourhood consisting of the most disenfranchised people is what we can observe to prepare for the kind of times we are living in now. William Golding’s Lord of the Flies portrays human behaviour under moments of duress and anarchy.
Epics are narrative poems that tell us stories resembling real life. The Iliad opens with Apollo shooting his invisible arrows down to create a form of plague. Considering The Iliad, Odyssey and Virgil’s Aeneid, it’s clear that the role of a hero is the central factor that aided epics in gaining their classic status. It helps the reader remind themselves why these texts are precious in our culture — they lay the ground rules on what constitutes a hero in times of adversity. Which is why, for many readers Hector is far more heroic than Achilles in The Iliad. The hero in our modern times is a struggler who is trying to come to terms with the inevitability and futility of existence.
The idea of Dante’s journey through Inferno in the Divine Comedy will remind us that it begins with a lost-in-the-middle-of-a-dark-woods moment. And in the awakening, it’s altogether possible as Dante suggested that some of the worst experiences of our life, both individually and communally, are propaedeutic in nature. They can lead us to find some kind of answer but we are only going to get that answer through a long hard journey and at some moment, we’ll inevitably sit down and contemplate quitting. And that’s why Virgil’s words to Dante hold timeless relevance — "up on your feet!"
After studying Dante in our classrooms, we begin Shakespeare. And Shakespeare has always wanted readers to ask the simple question of how to gain the knowledge of trusting someone. In Hamlet, the questions of why are paramount. Why is this happening and how can one respond to it in an intelligent way? We see in Hamlet the frozen moment — "to be or not to be", where the young prince is also wondering whether to do nothing as opposed to doing too much. Shakespeare’s classic portrayal of confusion again remains universal.
Blame game
And when we read Milton, the question of course is that of theodicy. Can we explain why this pandemic is happening? And our instinct is to immediately begin by finding someone or something to blame, much like xenophobia that had been creating waves since the beginning of this century. Let’s find the place where all of this originates and point a finger and then we’ll be able to gain a sense of justification for the ways of god and nature. This is Milton’s way of finding answers in the opening lines of Paradise Lost.
Our texts always speak to the challenges of human adversity and how one addresses it. Faust forever reminds us that we are our choices; that we get to choose how we respond to the events around us. We do have free will by virtue of the fact that we get to choose. We come in contact with pain and deal with the suffering of life. We wish to reduce this pain as much as we can but in our study of Plato’s Republic, we’re reminded that pain can be instructional or propagated. And the idea of emancipating ourselves from the darkness of the cave is all about the choices we make. Faust is the classic exemplar of making such choices. His first choice is not very useful but ultimately his choice of action can be seen as worthy of emulation.
We can have an epistemological position that is an absolutist position. But the problem with ‘I’m right and everyone else is wrong’ is that it can lead to crazy scenarios. And this absolutist position can lead us to relativist positions, where there is no truth and nothing really matters.
This is an interesting moment in a pandemic. Notice all the people who have been saying life is meaningless and it doesn’t matter, are ready to work really hard to stay healthy and safe now. So the relativist position doesn’t really work because to say that there is no truth is itself a positive truth and to that degree, the performative contradiction pretty much nails the relativist position. But, there is a middle position that we can observe from studying Plato and reading Nietzsche. The idea of a fallibilist position. This is the stance of ‘I think I’m right but I could be wrong’. And the wrong part leads epistemologically to the position of humility — the willingness to admit that we don’t know everything, which is an essential learning for life. And this global catastrophe can help us remind ourselves about that.
Achilles heel
When we look at it ontologically, we are again reminded of who we are fundamentally, when we are susceptible to error. Like Achilles with his heel. That is to say, we have to represent ourselves in a holistic way and to that degree, we have to ensure that we are constantly learning through experiences. We are a species that is innately curious and that is why stories matter. We are human, when we choose to be human and to behave in humane ways. Our stories teach us how to do that well.
It’s significant to consider the sociological approach because mass hysteria isn’t going to help anything. If we pay attention to groups, they begin to have a tendency to coalesce around the worst imaginable scenario. All the texts we read have been suggesting to us that there is a better way sociologically and it’s safe to call that phenomenon "generosity". Plato argues in The Republic that people who are harmonious and unified are powerful people. The great mythologist, Joseph Campbell, who followed the works of Carl Jung, had stated in his work, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, that in the 21st century, the world will begin to find reasons to overcome all of its divisions and unify. Amongst many of those divisions and challenges, a pandemic like what we are experiencing now has the potential, as argued by Campbell, to bring us together.
And looking into the theodicy — as to why this is happening — if there is anything our stories or classics are teaching us, then it’s that we have to ask the right questions. We can ask "why did this happen to me", making us victims without the capacity to take any further responsibility. But it’s a dangerous question because it can lead us to a kind of solipsism and nihilism which can neither improve our own lives nor the lives of others around us. Rather it’s important to ask "why did this happen for me?" Beyond our frustration, what can we learn from this experience and how can we grow? When we are able to be positive and learn, share and reach out, we become heroes.
It’s in moments of greatest stress and adversity that we need a hero. To remember what Wordsworth says in his poem Tintern Abbey, ‘of unremembered pleasure: on that best portion of a good man’s life, his little, nameless, unremembered, acts of kindness and of love.’ It isn’t the great things that make a good life but the little, nameless and unremembered acts of kindness and love that enables us to fight pandemics, not just physically but emotionally as well. Living a life of certitude, integrity, honour and value — that is what most of our stories try to tell us. The new normal is not brand new in the history of this world. That little blip on the radar reminds us that this is what it is to be human and this is what it means to be humane. Hence, comfort those around you. Be strong. And when you find yourselves tired, you’ll understand why we memorise those lines — "up on your feet!" This is no time to tire, there’s a longer ladder to climb.
