Considering Leadership: Oedipus Rex
In Oedipus the King (c. 429 BC), Sophocles presents a leader who is devote to his city—or, at least, devote through his proclamations. Oedipus loves Athens; he is devoted to it as its king and ruler. “My spirit groans for city and myself and you at once,” Oedipus states near the beginning of the play to a priest caring for the children of the city.
This city that Oedipus loves has a problem: it has been stricken by a plague. The inhabitants blame the plague upon the gods, and a priest to the gods declares that the plague exists because of the death of the first king, Laius. Unbeknownst to the characters on stage, Oedipus murdered his father, unwittingly fulfilling a prophecy that he would commit patricide and marry his mother, Jocasta. Throughout the play, Oedipus deals with the unknown consequences of his actions, as the people of the city search for Laius's murderer.
In this blog post, I want to focus in on one particular part of the play that illustrates a relationship of leadership and place, which struck me in my read of the play. Creon, the brother-in-law of Oedipus, is sent to Delphi to divine the cause of the plague. He returns to announce that the murderer of the former king must be found to cleanse the political and religious pollution in Thebes. Summoning the prophet Tiresias, Oedipus seeks the murderer, but the seer declares he cannot reveal the murderer to Oedipus.
Frustrated by this answer, Oedipus thinks Creon did something to Tiresias, and so Oedipus summons his brother-in-law. He demands Creon’s execution, to which Creon responds with a consideration on fear and rule. Will Oedipus use his authority to castrate his enemies and allies both with fear? Or will Oedipus lead humbly?
The chorus, our guide in this play, state Creon’s “words are wise, king, if one fears to fall. Those who are quick of temper are not safe.” This repudiation of Oedipus’s actions—especially because they are brash and incorrect—helps to then frame the interaction of Oedipus and Creon when Creon questions Oedipus on not understanding.
Creon: Suppose you do not understand?
Oedipus: But yet I must be ruler.
Creon: Not if you rule badly.
Oedipus: O, city, city!
Creon: I too have some share in the city; it is not yours alone.
I find this particular engagement worth thinking about for a little bit for three reasons: its subversion of citizen-leader connection; its disbarring of the idolization of leadership; and its investment into the city of both the citizen and the leader.
Creon is being insubordinate in questioning his ruler. “Supposed you do not understand?” He offers a possibility to Oedipus—what if you're wrong, Oedipus? I don't read this as a rebuke of Oedipus but rather as an invitation for further engagement. Creon doesn't say you are wrong, he invites him to consider if he might be on the wrong end of things. The insubordination and subversion of the citizen-leader connection, which Oedipus has tried to implement through his desire to kill Creon on his hunch that Creon paid off the seer, is done through an invitation to think further. What if you're not right? What will the consequences be if you're wrong? Supposed you do not understand?
However, Oedipus believes he cannot be wrong. “But yet I must be ruler.” I must rule and I must trust myself, Oedipus responds, I cannot second-guess myself. His response is an entrenchment into a holier-than-thou approach to leadership. I was born into this, Oedipus's response says, and as such, I do not need help. But Creon gets to the crutch that holds up Oedipus's argument: trusting your gut in leadership is only good when goodness comes from what you do.
Goodness here is not a moral goodness but rather a positive influence on the lives of the people and the city, which can only be seen in retrospect. Creon's response, "Not if you rule badly," can only be adjudicated after Oedipus has ruled. The if is conditional on what the effect of the rule is. This, then, is the question of rulership: a good ruler rules well, but that goodness can only be determined after the dust falls, so to speak.
(In considering this, though, I wonder if there is a space for moral action before action is taken. Ethical and moral systems of belief provide for frameworks that one can use to interrogate an action, but it is not known whether or not it is truly good for people until after the fact.)
Finally, Oedipus’s cry of “O, city, city!” pulls the reader away from the moral quandary of leadership that Oedipus and Creon and to the person or thing that the actions they take might affect. Oedipus's cry expresses his love for the city which he rules, but Creon reminds Oedipus: “I too have some share in the city; it is not yours alone.” Oedipus's actions have been rather selfish, especially considering that the audience watches his actions knowing he has committed the murder for which the city is being cursed. Indeed, Oedipus's selfishness, his thinking that he knows best for the city (even though, ironically, he is taking certain actions for his own goodness rather than for the common good of the city), ignores that other people live in community with him. Oedipus's hubris in this moment is that he does not acknowledge other people in the city have stake in the city as well; other people in the community are affected by and have an affect on the city which he, at that time, rules.
Considering leadership in this moment, then, a leader must favor humility over confidence, community over individuality, and engagement over submission.
I am currently on a quest to read three different Norton Anthology series from front to back (World Literature, American Literature, and British Literature). As I read them, I like to engage with my reading by writing about it.
Since this is a blog, the musings on the literature will by no means be a deep scholarly engagement; rather, these posts are more like reader reactions.
