Antigone

The second half of Antigone pits Creon and Antigone against each other, and is essentially a dramatized philosophical argument. The structure of the debate, comprising nearly 20 pages of dialogue, features the characters posing philosophical questions to each other, then receiving answers that lay the foundations for certain ideals and philosophies. Throughout their debate, Creon and Antigone challenge each other’s ideas about obedience to authority and the nature of duty, happiness, and sacrifice. Through this dialectic, Anouilh offers a thinly veiled allegory for the moral and political obligations of the French people under German occupation.

Creon represents his position as that of a reluctant king, insisting that he only took over control of the kingdom for the sake of restoring order after the chaos of the violent sibling rivalry between Antigone’s brothers. Creon represents the Vichy government, which justified collaboration with Nazi Germany by argument of self-preservation. In telling Antigone that “Somebody had to agree to captain the ship” (51), Creon presents his assumption of authority as something noble and selfless. He also tries to frame his unyielding approach to exercising his authority as a ruthless but necessary tactic, claiming that Polynices’ body must remain unburied to serve as an example to the people. Polynices’ disgraced end will, he implies, terrify the rest of the population into submission, thereby ensuring order and obedience in Thebes. In making these arguments, Creon reveals two crucial aspects of his characterization and approach to questions of power. First, he presents obedience to authority as the supreme good, even when that obedience means violating traditional moral and religious values. Second, Creon envisions power as resting upon oppressive and fear-based approaches—his contemptuous attitude towards the “rabble” of Thebes reveals the depths of his contempt for the people he is supposed to govern, exposing his tyrannical tendencies. Contemporary audiences would recognize this as Vichy policy, which enabled the horrors of the Holocaust with the rationale that war with Germany was not to France’s advantage. Obedience to the totalitarian state superseded the moral responsibility to prevent genocide and resist fascism, even as the quality of life for French citizens decreased under German occupation.

Creon reveals his hypocrisy–and by extension, Vichy hypocrisy--when he remains willing to cover up Antigone’s crimes for his own interests. The arrest and death of Antigone would directly affect Creon, as Antigone is meant to wed his son and produce an heir to the throne. Faced with this dilemma, Creon is suddenly willing to bend the rules that he claims are untouchable. He tells Antigone, “Let me assure you that Thebes needs that boy a good deal more than it needs your death” (46). Creon is therefore willing to make an exception and spare Antigone’s life—not because he is swayed by his niece’s ethical arguments, but only for the sake of preserving his own bloodline. To this end, he is even willing to murder the three innocent Guards to cover up Antigone’s crime and maintain the façade of exercising impartial authority. In making such arguments, Creon gradually reveals that his supposedly disinterested and duty-bound approach to kingship is a lie. This characterization condemns the Vichy government as similarly self-interested and without moral or ethical authority.

Creon also displays his selfishness and amorality more generally by building his arguments around the importance of pursuing what is to one’s own benefit and happiness above all else. He tries to coax Antigone into obedience by appealing to her own self-interest, reminding her of all that she will lose if she continues to defy him. In arguing that, “Life is, perhaps, after all, nothing more than the happiness you get out of it” (57, emphasis added), Creon presents Antigone with a view of life that is entirely self-focused and utilitarian: according to Creon, the only thing that matters is that one secures one’s own personal “happiness” and “nothing more.” The happiness and dignity of others, he seems to suggest, are of no real consequence, again echoing the attitude of Vichy France toward the unfolding Holocaust. 

Antigone’s values stand in marked contrast to Creon’s selfish and tyrannical vision of life, power, and duty. She forcefully and repeatedly rejects the idea that she should put her own interests and happiness above all else, arguing instead that she would never be truly happy if she betrayed her conscience. While Creon conceives of the meaning of life in terms of personal happiness, Antigone conceives of it in terms of self-sacrifice and ethical purity—for Antigone, doing what is right is far superior to doing what is expedient or convenient for oneself. Through Antigone, Anouilh affirms the efforts of the French Resistance and calls upon his audience to consider how they tacitly support or actively resist an immoral government. Anouilh posits that abandoning Europe to Nazism and submitting to an unjust government is analogous to Antigone failing to uphold justice under Creon’s compromised rule.

Antigone’s commitment to obeying her conscience also shapes her attitude towards civil authority. While Creon conceives of civil authority as something that must be submitted to unquestioningly, Antigone counters with the idea that upholding moral values can be more important than obeying the powerful. When Creon taunts Antigone with the supposed futility of her disobedience, reminding her that any attempt she makes to bury Polynices will only result in him being unearthed yet again by the Guards, Antigone replies “I know all that. But that much, at least I can do. And what a person can do, a person should do” (47, emphasis added). Her phrase, “what a person can do, a person should do”, encapsulates the very essence of what Antigone’s moral and personal philosophy is: a person should always seek to do the right thing, even if it appears futile to do so and even if it will result in suffering or, quite literally, self-sacrifice. As she defiantly tells Creon, “If life must be a thing of fear, and lying and compromise; if life cannot be free and incorruptible—then Creon, I choose death!” (58). Her declaration is a call to contemporary French audiences to take up the cause of resistance as a moral obligation, no matter the personal cost.

Although Creon initially appears to “win” in his confrontation with Antigone by sheer force, ordering her arrest and burying her alive, he is soon forced to watch his kingdom crumble before his eyes. When Ismene comes in and stands by Antigone’s side, declaring her willingness to bury Polynices herself if Antigone is killed, he loses the understanding of the niece who is most like him. Soon after, he also loses Haemon, who challenges him to lay down his pride and reverse his own law to spare Antigone. Even the Chorus—who has been a neutral commentator until this point in the play—breaks into the scene and chastises Creon for sentencing Antigone to death. These multiple rebellions by different people in such a short span of time suggest that Creon’s grasp on power is far more fragile than it first appeared, revealing that his strongman tactics have only brought more unrest and destruction to Thebes. Anouilh models how the French Resistance and solidarity might succeed, portraying the Vichy government as more fragile than it seems. This is a crucial departure from Sophocles’s Antigone, which portrays the ethical debate between Creon’s commitment to political order and Antigone’s insistence on religious obedience much more ambiguously. At the end of the ancient Greek tragedy, both Antigone and Creon experience doubt, and Sophocles resists definitively answering which character has the better moral claim.

Anouilh, by contrast, portrays Antigone as the clear moral authority. The play ends with Creon facing a bleak future as a direct consequence of his tyranny. His niece, son, and wife are all dead, and he is now left alone to face the consequences of his actions. Although the play never fully deems Creon, the authority figure, as a “villain”, he is forced to reckon with the repercussions of his dictatorship, including the lack of an heir for his own bloodline. The resistance he has faced in sentencing Antigone to death implies that there may be more challenges to his authority in the future. Meanwhile, Antigone, who refused to pursue her own happiness at the expense of her morals, is now a martyr who has been reunited with her betrothed in death. The Chorus eulogizes her as a moral exemplar, categorizing her as belonging to the long line of men and women who remain true to their moral convictions, driven by “a passionate belief that moral law exists, and a passionate regard for the sanctity of human dignity” (71). The Chorus’ praise elevates Antigone’s sacrifice and grants a degree of dignity to her death, suggesting that she has managed to achieve something heroic through her defiance. Ultimately, Antigone’s ethical argument was strong enough to stand by until the very end, and, Anouilh hopes, strong enough to inspire hope in the French people.