I recently read the Oresteia for the first time. As a lawyer, I was really looking forward to the famous trial scene; but what blew me away instead was the alternative dispute resolution at the very end of the play. Here’s a breakdown both of what happens and of what I loved about the ending.
Overview (beware of spoilers and mentions of violence including sexual violence)
It’s messy. Bear with me. And refer to the below chart to make sense of how these characters are connected.
The Oresteia is a super-old trilogy: three Greek plays written by Aeschylus and first performed almost 2,500 years ago. In the first play, Agamemnon (head of the Greek forces that won the Trojan War) returns to Mycenae where he is king. His wife, Queen Clytemnestra, brutally kills him and his “concubine,” Cassandra. Clytemnestra kills Agamemnon because many years earlier, he had sacrificed their daughter, Iphigenia, to avoid further delays in sailing for Troy. Killing Cassandra is entirely unjustified. (Cassandra was the daughter of the King and Queen of Troy and a priestess who could see the future but was never believed. Tragically, she warned the Trojans that Greek soldiers were hiding inside the Trojan Horse and even tried to attack it with an axe. But the Trojans insulted and restrained her. When Troy fell, she sought refuge in Athena’s temple where Ajax raped her. She was later forced to be Agamemnon’s “concubine.”) Cassandra foresees that Clytemnestra will kill her and Agamemnon but accepts her fate. Afterwards, Clytemnestra tells the Greek Chorus about the murders and shows no remorse. Agamemnon’s cousin, Aegisthus, shows up and claims he helped to plan the murders. He is now Clytemnestra’s lover. (Why would Aegisthus sleep with his cousin’s wife and plot to kill him? Their fathers were enemies. Agamemnon’s dad killed all of Aegisthus’s brothers, then cooked and fed them to Aegisthus’s unsuspecting father. So Aegisthus wanted revenge against Agamemnon’s dad.)
Seven years pass before the second play begins. During this time, Clytemnestra and Aegisthus have ruled over Mycenae. An exiled Orestes (son of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon, and rightful heir to the throne) returns to Mycenae and encounters his sister Electra at their father’s grave. He discloses his plan for revenge to her, then goes to the palace and deceives his mother to gain entry. Orestes then slaughters Aegisthus and his mother. Orestes does this to avenge his father and also because the god Apollo ordered him to and threatened him with punishment if he did not: “he charged me to win . . . warning of chill disaster . . . were I to fail against my father’s murderers; told me to cut them down in their own fashion . . . else I must myself pay penalty with my own life, and suffer much grim punishment . . . He declared I could do this and not be charged with wrong.”[1] Despite Apollo’s promise, the play ends with the Furies chasing Orestes away. The Furies are goddesses of vengeance who relentlessly torment wrongdoers, and they are older than the Olympian gods (Apollo, Athena, Zeus, etc.).
In the third and final play, the Furies continue to hunt Orestes. He travels to Apollo’s oracle at Delphi. Apollo temporarily tricks the Furies and counsels Orestes to seek justice from Athena. Clytemnestra’s ghost appears and chastises the Furies, spurring them to chase after Orestes. They catch up with him in Athens. Athena asks both Orestes and the Furies to explain why they are there. This is a really bad situation for her. The Furies have a right to torment Orestes, because he killed his mother. But in Greek mythology, even the gods are subject to laws, and if Athena rejects a suppliant (Orestes), then she violates the law. It’s a classic damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don’t scenario: if she protects Orestes, she violates the Furies’ rights, and if she releases him to their torture, she violates the law constraining her actions. Worst of all, she had nothing to do with this conflict: she doesn’t know the Furies and Orestes is a foreigner, not one of her own Athenians under her protection. Apollo essentially dumped this mess on her. Still, Athena tries to proceed as fairly as possible and organizes a trial. She chooses Athenian mortal men to serve as jurors. Both sides present their evidence. There is some scholarly debate about exactly how the jurors’ votes break down between Orestes and the Furies (maybe an exact tie?), but everyone agrees that it’s very close and that Athena’s vote in favor of Orestes is decisive.
As soon as the trial is over, Orestes and Apollo leave Athena there with some very, very angry Furies. The Furies accept the verdict but believe they have been deeply disrespected and cheated out of what was rightfully theirs (the ancient prerogative to torture wrongdoers). They threaten to destroy the land of Athens (which will kill off the people there under Athena’s protection). Athena has the power to force the Furies to comply with the verdict, but instead of using “power over” tactics (domination), she takes a “power with” approach (collaboration) and negotiates with the Furies to find a solution that works for both of them and results in a lasting and powerful alliance. In fact, the goddesses referred to as the Furies at the beginning of the play are referred to as the Eumenides (“Kindly Ones”) by the end of it because they have agreed to use their powers for good to bless the people under Athena’s protection. It’s this part of the play – these informal negotiations – that is most interesting to me. How does Athena convert the Furies’ rage to collaboration?
Athena’s master-level conflict resolution skills
Communicating respect and willingness to listen
Athena’s skills come into play long before her negotiations with the Furies begin. When she first encounters the Furies, they are strangers to her. But some of her first words to them are “it brings no terror to my eyes . . . This is the place of the just. Its rights forbid to speak evil of another who is without blame.”[2] In other words, she says that she can look at the Furies and receive what they say with impartiality. She won’t prejudge them or be influenced by their appearance.
That is in stark contrast to the way that others respond to the Furies. By all descriptions, they are hideous. Apollo repeatedly abuses and insults them: “these rabid creatures. The repulsive maidens . . . with whom no mortal man, nor god, nor even any beast will have to do . . . loathed alike by men and by the heavenly gods . . . The whole way you look is guide to what you are – the likes of whom should hole in the cave of the blood-reeking lion, not wipe off your filth on others nearby . . . Out then, you flock of goats without a herdsman, since no god has such affection as to tend this herd.”[3] The Furies don’t even get any respect from mortal humans. Apollo’s priestess sees the Furies in the temple and calls them “terrible”[4] and “utterly repulsive.”[5]
In that context, Athena’s words are a relief and help to establish a basis of trust. This is probably the most basic rule of conflict resolution, but it’s often easily missed: everyone in the conflict needs to feel seen, understood, and respected. Or, as relationship expert John Gottman writes: “It is virtually impossible to accept advice from someone unless you feel that that person understands you . . . People can change only if they feel that they are basically liked and accepted as they are.”[6] Athena creates the conditions for change by looking directly at the Furies and promising to listen with fairness instead of responding with disgust.
Understanding and addressing the real problem (how the complaint fits within a larger pattern)
The Furies resent the verdict that allows Orestes to escape their torture. But Athena understands that the real problem is bigger than that. She listens to their laments and their threats, even when the Furies fail to listen to her, even when they are very repetitive. She stays with them and assures “I will bear your angers,”[7] or “I will indulge your anger,”[8] and “I will not weary of telling you all the good things I offer.”[9] She is committed to resolving this dispute with them collaboratively, and she understands that will only happen if she is able to place the present issue within the larger context – to discern the larger pattern that is troubling the Furies.
They are outraged because they get no respect from others who should show them respect. Given that they are goddesses, mortal humans should show them respect. Given that they are goddesses who came before the Olympian gods, those younger gods should show respect for their elders. But, as described above, younger gods like Apollo and even mortal humans insult the Furies. They are also afraid: torturing wrongdoers is their ancient prerogative; it is their identity. If that prerogative is taken away from them, what will they do? If that identity is lost, then who are they?
The Furies see the verdict against them as just one more example of how they are disrespected and robbed of their rightful place in the hierarchy. Athena understands that the Furies can lose the trial but still receive respect and have an important role. She helps them reframe the loss of the trial.
First, she acknowledges that their elder status entitles them to deference: “You are elder born than I and in that you are wiser far than I.”[10] When the Furies describe the results of the trial as a “dishonor”[11] and themselves as “disinherited,”[12] Athena replies “No, not dishonored. You are goddesses,”[13] and reminds them that the outcome was neither a disgrace nor the result of cheating. They very nearly won: “you have not been beaten. This was the result of a fair ballot which ended up even.”[14] She reminds them that they still have power and acknowledges that they could do great damage to the land; but she encourages them to use their power for good.
This leads very skillfully into addressing the issue of the Furies’ identify crisis. They have always been the tormentors of mankind, but they could take on a different role. Instead of exclusively punishing humans, they could “put a spell upon the land”[15] to benefit the people under Athena’s protection. The Furies would have “definite powers.”[16] Athena promises to make the followers of the Furies flourish, and she tells the Furies that “No household shall be prosperous without your will.”[17] In addition, “you shall win first fruits in offerings for children and the marriage rite for always.”[18] While acknowledging the Furies’ power, she also pledges to back them with her own power. This is all very new to the Furies, and they still can’t quite wrap their minds around it. Eventually, they are willing to bless Athens, but they have to ask Athena for help in imagining what that would even look like. She gives them some suggestions - the scaffolding on which they can construct their new identities as the “Kindly Ones.” They are willing to try out this new identity, because Athena holds out the promise of connection and belonging in exchange.
Giving the other party a seat at the table
We use lots of different phrases to describe this: a stake, a sense of belonging, etc. This is sorely lacking for the Furies. They lament that they are “outcast, like dirt!”[19] And it’s easy to see why. Apollo’s earlier interaction with them at his temple is characteristic: “Get out, I tell you, go and leave this house. Away in haste . . . This house is no right place for such as you to cling upon.” They are repeatedly othered, shamed, and driven away.[20]
Athena understands that this chronic alienation is a major source of the Furies’ suffering and vindictiveness. She offers them connection: “live with me and share my pride of worship.”[21] If they experiment with this new identity, they can have a place of their own, a “place of eminence,”[22] “a place free of all grief and pain. Take it for yours.”[23] If they accept Athena’s offer, they will have her support, the respect and devotion of the Athenians, and a stake in the community: “you can never say that you, an elder god, were driven unfriended from the land by me in my youth, and by my mortal citizens . . . you might stay with us . . . You can be landholders in this country, if you will, in all justice, with full privilege . . . Stay here then in this land, and gain others too as friends.”[24] This temptation proves too strong for the Furies to resist.
Exercising “Power with” instead of “Power over”
Lastly, it’s important to remember that Athena didn’t have to do any of this negotiating or make any concessions to the Furies. Yes, the Furies are her elder gods. But she has more power. As she mentions, “I have Zeus behind me. Do we need to speak of that? I am the only god who knows the keys to where his thunderbolts are locked. We do not need such, do we? Be reasonable.”[25]
Some readers use this passage to argue that Athena alternates between threatening and coaxing the Furies. I don’t see it that way. She only brings this power imbalance up once. The negotiations between the goddesses cover 138 lines from the initial complaint of the Furies to their agreement with Athena (“I accept this home at Athena’s side.”[26]). Only four of those lines address Athena’s superior strength. That’s less than 3% of the total negotiations.
What if those lines are mostly there for us? Athena says the lines to the Furies, but those lines remind us that she could simply dominate the Furies with thunderbolts. They urge us to pay attention to the fact that she is choosing a different way of interacting. They underscore that she values something else above efficiency or raw power. In her view, collaboration is better than domination; mutual satisfaction and enduring peace is better than one gloating winner and one resentful loser (and the instability inherent in that dynamic). She is willing to invest more time and effort into reaching a long-term agreement that leaves everyone involved feeling positive about the outcome and that leads to a lasting peace. This is very different from the way that Apollo or Zeus operate. She is drawing our attention to that and suggesting that their “power over” way of resolving conflict is not inevitable, the only option, or even the best option. Rather, her “power with” approach is both a possible and preferable alternative.
I readily admit that I am not a scholar of ancient Greek, mythology, or literature. I read the plays in this trilogy in two versions that were both English translations. I may be missing nuances in the original language, important cultural background that would influence the reader’s interpretation, etc. And of course I’m looking at this through the lens of what legal practitioners might find interesting. I’m certainly open to correction from people better informed than I am and insights more readily apparent to people viewing the plays from a different perspective.
[1] Aeschylus. The Libation Bearers. Aeschylus II. Translated by Richmond Lattimore, edited by David Grene, The University of Chicago Press, 2013, pp. 91-92, 120-21.
[2] Aeschylus. The Eumenides. Aeschylus II. Translated by Richmond Lattimore, edited by David Grene, The University of Chicago Press, 2013, p. 138.
[3] Id. at pp. 125-26, 130, 148, 150.
[4] Id. at p. 124.
[5] Id. at p. 125.
[6] Gottman, John M., and Nan Silver. The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work. Three Rivers Press, 2000.
[7] Aeschylus. The Eumenides. Aeschylus II. Translated by Richmond Lattimore, edited by David Grene, The University of Chicago Press, 2013, p. 155.
[8] Aeschylus. The Furies. Oresteia. Translated by Peter Meineck, Hackett Publishing Company, Inc., 1998, p. 152.
[9] Aeschylus. The Eumenides. Aeschylus II. Translated by Richmond Lattimore, edited by David Grene, The University of Chicago Press, 2013, p. 156.
[10] Id. at p. 155.
[11] Id. at p. 155.
[12] Id.
[13] Id.
[14] Id. at p. 153.
[15] Id. at p. 157.
[16] Id. at p. 156.
[17] Id.
[18] Id. at p. 154.
[19] Id. at p. 155.
[20] Id. at p. 129-30.
[21] Id. at p. 154.
[22] Id. at p. 155.
[23] Id. at p. 156.
[24] Id. at pp. 156-57.
[25] Id. at p. 154.
[26] Id. at p. 157.
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