The Bounded Actors of Aeschylus’s Oresteia
- Heather Sakaki
- Apr 21
- 9 min read
Never mistake law for justice. Justice is an ideal, and law is a tool.
-L.E. Modesitt Jr.
In Aeschylus’s Agamemnon, we see the primal law of retaliation operating on both an individual and regional scale — retaliation on one man for the murder of his guileless daughter, and retaliation on an entire city-state for the abduction of a king’s wife. This law is conveyed not only as justice, through the slaying of Agamemnon, but also, a mechanism by which Agamemnon and Menelaus seek to maintain their imperial honour. In The Eumenides, we see this image of justice shift from one of reciprocal revenge to an organized system that is more adjudicative in nature. However, this new Athenian legal order does not replace its pre-existing conception of justice as retaliation, it is merely built on top of it, and can therefore be, at most, an intermediary tool for handling the aftermath of cultural principles such as this one, as well as any other divine commands that may impel citizens to carry out punishable crimes. Arguably, it is the unequal power between these Kings and their gods which ultimately lead to their abuse of this principle and the excessive punishment that results from it, in addition to the brother’s moral values in relation to that of their victims. Moreover, because the principle of retaliation is, itself, rooted in divine law (Aeschylus 158) that predates the more prevalent divine law represented in these plays, we discover that the new legal order has no identifiable basis in natural law* whatsoever.
Within the Western tradition, the concept of retribution as justice can be traced as far back as the 6th century BCE, to a small fragment of theory written by the ancient Greek philosopher, Anaximander. And although it is unclear whether his idea about the cyclical nature of injustice was meant to extend beyond the context of the seasons and the oscillation of weather extremes, his observation does point to a universal principle that seems to support the notion of retribution as a stabilizing measure. Based on his only recovered description of the cosmos, Anaximander appears to regard elemental reactions as retributive forces, and that these retributive forces are necessary because they respond to “injustices” that have caused an imbalance in the cosmos (3). In this light, punishment and retribution are seen as inevitable penalties that restore this balance. However, it has been remarked that this concept of punishment, does not lead to restoration of equality among mortals because the “wrong-doer” loses some of their “substance” in the act of destruction (which is added to their victim’s, causing an excess of “substance” in that victim), and this excess leads to the victim engaging in retaliation that is unequal to the injustice that they, themselves, initially received (3). Furthermore, when loss of life is the injustice, the victim cannot retaliate, therefore, it is up to an avenger to inflict punishment on behalf of the deceased, which further perpetuates the cycle of retaliation that is likely escalating due to compounding “substance”. If we examine Aeschylus’s Oresteia with this theory in mind, it becomes evident that the principle of retaliation does not bring balance to the mortals and cities that abide by it, and instead, disrupts the world’s equilibrium through the social, political, psychological, and perhaps even cosmic instability it causes.
In Agamemnon, justice as retaliation is best exemplified by the slaying of Agamemnon by his wife Clytemnestra because the injury caused by this act of murder is reciprocal in degree to Agamemnon’s earlier crime of filicide and can thus be contrasted with the actions carried out by Menelaus and Agamemnon who violate this principle. A principle which, according to earlier divine law, has one stipulation: that the avenger must not share lineal blood with their victim. Since Clytemnestra shares no lineal blood with her husband, she is obeying the law, so to speak. By contrast, King Menelaus incites a full-blown war with Troy, “Assembl[ing] a thousand ships / crammed with the youth of Hellas / And sail[s] across the sea to punish Priam” (Aeschylus 7) in reaction to the humiliation he feels after his wife leaves him for her lover (Priam’s son, Paris), who brings Helen back home with him (38). Because this retributive course of action is vastly disproportionate to the prior harm done to the Spartan King, it is not an example of reciprocal justice. And while the following lines do not excuse Menelaus’s irresponsible decision to involve a countless number of young Greek men in a violent scheme driven by personal motives, they do suggest that the ancient Greek principle of hospitality takes precedence over the principle of retaliation within the cultural context of this tragedy and that the Athenian soldiers have (or at least feel) a sacred responsibility to punish the guests for this infraction. However, because Zeus and Menelaus are unequal in power, we find that justice is not, in fact, present in their dealings with each other:
CHORUS. So now Zeus — protector
Of the sacred trust
Between the guest and host —
Sends the two sons of Atreus
To rip the boasting tongue
From between the lips of Paris
And Helen from his bed.
……………….
Fate holds every man
Of these two embattled armies
By the scruff of the neck
And jams his face, helpless,
Into what has to happen.
Priam pours libations
To lubricate the favour of the heavens
In vain…
No bribes,
Nothing that passes under the roof of a temple
Or under the roof of a mouth,
Can appease heaven’s anger… (Aeschylus pp. 8-9)
The “guest” being referred to here is King Priam and his son, Paris, who were recently “host[ed]” by Menelaus, and based on these lines, we can assume that if the “sacred trust between guest and host” had not been broken by Paris (who makes off with Menelaus’s wife), Menelaus, together with his brother, Agamemnon, would not have waged war on Paris’s homeland of Troy. And although it is uncertain whether they would have followed through with the besiegement and attack if Zeus had not sent them, the chorus does comment that this battle “has to happen”, which implies that the kings have a strong cultural obligation to an eminent authority to punish their former guests for violating this code of conduct. Furthermore, the unappeasable anger of heaven described in this quote, suggests that the principle of hospitality may even be regarded as sacred law within Athenian culture. But what if Paris, Priam, and the people of Troy do not subscribe to this same principle of hospitality? Would it still be just to punish the guests for transporting queen Helen back to Troy? Can justice even exist between two cities with differing cultural values? Can it exist between “higher” deities and “lower” mortals? The slaying of Iphigenia by her father, Agamemnon, provides us with another example of divine law prevailing over the principle of retaliation because Agamemnon was ordered by the goddess, Artemis, to sacrifice his daughter (14) who did not commit a crime equal to her own slaying, or any crime for that matter. Like the other examples, justice is impaired even before the atrocity occurs due to the unequal power dynamic between Greek deities and their followers. Furthermore, Artemis’s abuse of authority causes Agamemnon to violate earlier divine law that considers the spilling of lineal blood to be a punishable crime, which helps to explain the imminence of his own fate on account of the retaliative ethics that call it forth.
In The Eumenides, Aeschylus offers us a more explicit example of how divine law operates within both conceptions of justice and how it is precariously obscured by the new legal order. During the dialogue leading up to the trial of Orestes, the chorus is particularly vocal about where the blame lies (or at least where they believe it ought to lie) in this case, revealing Apollo’s* part in the murder of Orestes mother, Clytemnestra. In this scene, the chorus of furies say to Apollo, “It was your oracle / Commanded [Orestes] to kill his mother / and guaranteed him immunity for a crime / That was agony to earth” (160). This verse is significant because it exposes the major role that divine rule plays in fueling (or perhaps even activating) the retaliatory instinct in young Orestes, whose moral actions are heavily guided by his devotion to this deity and his “divine” commands (154). In the eyes of the furies however, Apollo’s guidance in this crime does not make Orestes’s actions any less blameworthy and warn Orestes that,
CHORUS. Nobody alive
Can escape
The exact accounting
For sin against heaven,
Sin against parent, sin against guest,
Payment of flesh — payment
In the suffering of the body.
Flesh is the food
Of the earth’s justice. (Aeschylus 165)
These lines suggest that the earlier law of retaliation may belong to a group of divine principles which include the law of hospitality and the law against Parricide. And even though the chorus of furies refer to these rules as “primal laws of the earth” (181) later in the text, there is no evidence to suggest that they have any basis in natural law, especially since the furies, who are at one point referred to as “the oldest gods” (191), consider it sacrilegious to disrespect them.
Because retaliation is a prerational human response to harm (Fon and Parisi 48), the conception of justice as retaliation does not adequately represent the full potentiality (which requires rationality) of human beings. And while it can be argued that, unlike retaliation, the new Athenian legal order does involve this more evolved human capacity for reason and reasoned speech, the “reasoned persuasion” that Athena praises toward the end of the trilogy does not guarantee an ethical application of this ability. For instance, when she uses these tactics to persuade the furies not to take revenge on Athens for the acquittal of Orestes, she explains to them that, “The presence of God in persuasion / Draws the poison fangs of evil, / Undoes the knotted mesh of brooding hatred” (195), which means that for “persuasion” to function in the way that Athena intends it to, it must be accompanied by “the presence of God” and that the new procedural system has been founded upon a distinctly theistic belief system. In response to the fury’s deep apprehension toward the new order being constituted, Athena attempts to moderate their misgivings by defining the role that reason will play in court proceedings:
ATHENE. The day of reasoned persuasion,
With its long vision,
With its mercy, its forgiveness,
Has arrived.
The word hurled in anger shall be caught
In a net of gentle words,
Words of quiet strength.
The angry mouth shall be given a full hearing… (Aeschylus 189)
Evidently, this new legal order is supported by an additional set of precepts, less violent and less ruthless than those of retaliation. By emphasizing the virtues of mercy, forgiveness, and nonviolence, we can assume that Athena’s vision is inspired by a new set of ideals that are trending in Athens during this time and the moral expectations of their god with a capital “G” (though the term “God” is used ambiguously throughout this trilogy). The tenderness of Athena’s vision is called into question however, when she tells the furies that they may bless Athens by “root[ing] out the godless, [and] the lawless” (193) as it suggests that the new order may have ulterior motives apart from adjudicating conflict and upholding its “gentle” method. Moreover, considering Athena’s comment, is it unfair to assume that the new legal order, at least at a foundational level, shares the founder’s bias against “the godless”? Will irreligious individuals be targeted under this new Athenian order of “justice”? Will it “motivate” (through fear) greater levels of civil obedience to the gods or God? Or both?
In the history leading up to the The Eumenides, forgiveness is still largely an inconceivable act, leaving many characters vulnerable to the psychological trauma that ensues from their retaliatory deeds. In Agamemnon, vengeance is exposed as a social obligation in a culture that celebrates those who seek it, while The Eumenides imagines a more civilized system of justice designed to replace the pitiless cycle of retaliation. However, it could be controverted that the new Athenian legal order is unsuccessful in its attempt to invalidate the former and merely blots out the irrational instinct of retaliation with a somewhat civilized structure of accountability. If this is the case, it is, at most, the consequences of revenge that have been supplanted, not the act of revenge itself, which means the principle of retaliation and all other divine law (including the “old” and “new”) are still, unofficially, in effect to some degree. As for justice, it is thereafter at the mercy of this new legal system as well as any divine commands that may intervene since the average mortal remains subordinate to both authorities.
Sincerely,
Heather
*Natural law is a theory of justice originating from nature rather than from positive or divine law
*Apollo is a god of prophecy, agriculture, music, and the protection of the young in Greek mythology
Works Consulted
Aeschylus. The Oresteia. Translated by Ted Hughes. Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1999.
Anaximander. “Fragment and testimony.” Greek Philosophy: Thales to Aristotle, edited by Reginald E. Allen, The Free Press, 1991, pp. 2-3.
Fon, Vincy, and Francesco Parisi. “The Behaviour Foundations of Retaliatory Justice.” Journal of Bioeconomics, vol. 7, no. 1, 2005, pp. 45-72.
Tridimas, George. “Religion without doctrine or clergy: the case of Ancient Greece.” Journal of Institutional Economics, vol. 18, no. 4, 2022, pp. 677-691
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