Beyond shame and guilt

January 14, 2022 3 Comments

When I was a young student and easily impressed by big theory, I was struck by a book by E.R. Dodds called The Greeks and the irrational.  Its origin was a series of lectures Dodd gave in California in 1949.  Or, going further back, a conversation he’d had, while studying the Parthenon sculptures in the British Museum, with someone who said he could not be moved by them because they, and the ancient Greeks, seemed to him too cool and ‘rational’.  This provoked Dodds into thinking about the less rational aspects of ancient Greek culture.

In the first two chapters of his book Dodds introduces two concepts he borrowed from anthropology and in particular Ruth Benedict, shame culture and guilt culture.  His thesis is that the Homeric poems primarily reflect a shame culture.  The heroes of the Trojan War are motivated mainly by ‘honour’ (τίμη, status or public esteem) – a concern about how their actions will be seen by their peers.  Their worst nightmare is to lose honour, or lose face, by making a bad decision or doing a disgraceful action, often brought about by a madness attributed to divine intervention.  ‘Why should I fight’, asks Achilles in the Iliad, sulking in his tent, ‘if the good fighter receives no more τίμη than the bad?’ 

Achilles

In ‘archaic’ (early classical) Greek times, Dodds argues, this early shame culture was replaced by, or supplemented by, a guilt culture .  Now the gods sit in judgement on the arrogance and other sins of humans, and mete out justice or vengeance.  So, the Erinyes or Fates pursue and madden Orestes, in Aeschylus’s trilogy of plays the Oresteia, for the killing of his mother Clytemnestra.  Oedipus, who kills his father and marries his mother, carries his guilt with him into blindness and exile.  Even if sinners escape punishment for wrongdoing in their lifetime, descendants may still pay the price: guilt could be inherited.  Aeschylus wrestles with this belief system and suggests, in the final play of his trilogy, Eumenides, that it might be tamed and socialised into a system of civic justice.

Shame and guilt have been powerful regulators of public human behaviour for centuries.  Arguably they’re still alive today, now usually detached from divine intervention, in ordinary, day-to-day social interaction.  You could say that social networking has even given shame culture in particular a new impetus.  The ability to feel and express shame and guilt, after all, is actually necessary to underpin any shared set of social values that give coherence to a community. 

Orestes and the Erinyes

But things are very different in the way politics are now conducted in Britain (I mean Westminster).  Events of the last two years have shown that shame and guilt are in such short supply that they no longer have any restraining force on how the UK government behaves.

Let’s take shame first.  Boris Johnson feels no shame about any of his many lies, or his actions, even illegal ones, like trying to abolish parliament (‘prorogue’ is the euphemism), or holding parties in Downing Street in breach of his own legislation.  And he cannot be made to feel shame.  Τίμη is a concept entirely foreign to him.  He cares nothing for his personal honour or standing in the eyes of others.  Until recently it has been enough for him that large numbers of electors were sufficiently mesmerised by him to vote his party into government.  He is so egotistical that the gods – in modern terms, courts, electors or other governments – hold no fear for him.

It’s the same with guilt.  Johnson feels none, no matter how serious his wrongdoing.  It’s often said that Johnson is immoral.  But this can’t be right, because the immoralist has a sufficient grasp of what might be right or wrong in order to be able to choose the latter.  Rather, he’s amoral.  In his personal and public life alike he’s unable to appreciate that he should be bound by any ethical standards.  Johnson’s only successful career so far has been as a humourist and clown, and the Shakespearian clown, unrestrained by morality and licensed to say whatever he wishes, is the closest analogy to his own character.  Clowning and power, though, are dangerous partners.

This disease, an absence of shame and guilt, is more serious than the failings of one person.  Much worse is the fact that has infected so many other powerful people.  Cabinet members, who owe their positions entirely to Johnson’s favours, share his amorality.  Or, if they don’t, they’re willing to overlook his, and reflect it in their own behaviour.  The same is true of Tory MPs, media owners and other supporters and voters, all prepared to condone or overlook gross misuse of power and immoral behaviour, as long as they can see political advantage or their own interest.

Louis McNeice

Misuse of power has led to a creeping authoritarianism.  Those in power, freed from the restraints of shame and guilt, are increasingly eager to limit the freedoms of others – protestors, courts, refugees, parliament, electors who vote the wrong way, and many others.  An unwritten constitution is an easy target for people who no longer believe in explicit or implicit standards of public life.  And authoritarianism is one step on the way to dictatorship.  Thanks to the UK’s unjust electoral system we already suffer from ‘elective dictatorship’, as Lord Hailsham said in 1976.  It’s no longer fanciful to imagine our current regime mutating into a state like Turkey or Hungary, democratic in name only.

One of E.R. Dodds’s close friends – they were both Ulster men – was the poet Louis McNeice.  In his poem ‘The trolls’, written after an air raid in 1941, McNeice likened the dictators of the day to would-be gods:

Barging and lunging out of the clouds, a daft
Descent of no-good gods, they think to
Be rid for ever of the voice of men

‘No-good’ implies both malevolence and incompetence – a combination that’s become very familiar to Britons in recent years.  It will take more than the overthrow of Johnson or a few booster jabs of shame and guilt to reverse the course of the disease.

Comments (3)

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  1. Ms Sioned-Mair Richards says:

    Spot on. Unfortunately.

  2. Lyndon Jones says:

    Dear Andrew,

    Thank you so much for all your wisdom and erudition; it tumbles from every phrase. Your writing is a joy and an inspiration.
    I’ve particularly enjoyed this one because it takes aim, so accurately, at Johnson’s supposed expertise in the classics; and demolishes him utterly on those particular terms.
    I live in the (perhaps deluded!) hope that we’re living through a sea-change moment, rather like the Thatcher revolution of the 1980s, in which a wholesale repudiation of accepted ideas creates the opportunity for something better. Please don’t laugh……
    With every best wish,

    Lyndon.

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