These days, the word “tragedy” (or “tragic”) is over-if not mis-used. There are many examples of what I’m suggesting, not the least of which involves the latest wearisome Congressional squabble over where to cut spending and/or increase taxes (or at least close some loopholes)–all in the guise of raising our nation’s debt ceiling–a matter of hardly such conflicted historical precedence.
If most, but not all things tragic are terrible, not all things terrible are tragic. A child hit and killed on his or her bicycle, a young mother dying of cancer, a flood or fire, a hurricane or tornado–these things are terrible. They are not, however, tragic. At least according to Aristotle, the ancient Greek philosopher and drama critic, who defined the term over 2400 years ago.
Rather, when our choices in life are, at best, but the lesser of evils; when we’re trying to figure the least bad way to lose–that is tragic. Not unlike when our strength can also be our weakness; our virtue, our vice. Or that it may be easier to become a colonel or captain, to be president or CEO of whatever, than to be a reasonably decent spouse or parent–that’s tragic. Or again, as someone has said: “To be able to make straight A’s, yet still manage to flunk life–that is tragic!
According to Aristotle, the two classic prototypes of what is tragic are characters from the ancient Greek theater–Oedipus and Antigone.
For Oedipus, his drive and ambition, his competitive nature–those are his strengths. They also become his undoing.
Antigone represents a different dimension of what is tragic. We commonly call it a “double-bind”–when you’re “damned if do and damned if you don’t”–as it were, “caught between a rock and a hard place.”
Embracing life as tragic involves a both/and, rather than an either/or perspective. It’s seeing life as inherently ambiguous–not all good or bad–but some of both. The more concrete the thinker, the harder time s/he tends to have with such perplexing circumstances. Whereas making (at least) some peace with such ambiguity–this seems to come a bit easier (if no less disconcerting) for more abstract thinkers.
In our nation’s strident and polarized Congress these days, for instance, there are obviously those on both sides of the aisle who have walked away from the “debt-ceiling standoff” thinking they have “lost,” while claiming to have “won.” Hence, the nature of negotiating, of compromising, where the line between so-called “winning” and “losing” becomes ambiguously blurred. Is that good or bad or tragic?
