From the Archive: Hamlet and the Myth of Redemptive Violence

Revenge is a beautiful yet shallow temptation; something not foreign to contemporary media. Luke Skywalker spends the entirety of A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi attempting to avenge his parents, only to find out that his own father was his enemy all along, leading to grief, confusion, and anger. In Out of the Furnace, Christian Bale’s character successfully avenges his brothers’ death, yet instead of finding comfort with the pull of the trigger, he remains as empty as before. Shakespeare also picks up on this theme with plays such as Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet. With these examples in mind, the question needs to be asked: if revenge never satisfies, why do we feel the need to try time and time again? The answer is that until a proper view of justice is developed, a justice defined by restoration and healing rather than retribution, pain and suffering will inevitably increase, allowing the myth of redemptive violence to continue its destructive work within society, and this is most eloquently demonstrated by looking at Jesus Christ.

First, the myth of redemptive violence needs to be unpacked. While this ideology has been present throughout history, scholar and theologian Walter Wink has defined the term in a manner worthy of attention:

In short, the Myth of Redemptive Violence is the story of the victory of order over chaos by means of violence. It is the ideology of conquest, the original religion of the status quo. … Peace through war, security through strength: these are the core convictions that arise from this ancient historical religion, and they form the solid bedrock on which the Domination System is founded in every society.¹Walter Wink, “The Myth of Redemptive Violence” Goshen College. N.p., n.d. Web. 7 Sept. 2014., 3.

Rather than looking to extinguish hatred and war with something different, the myth of redemptive violence argues that violence must be solved with more violence, which is similar to the belief of fighting fire with more fire, instead of dousing the fire with water. This idea is prevalent in many forms, including children’s cartoons:

Few cartoons have run longer or been more influential than Popeye and Bluto. In a typical segment, Bluto abducts a screaming and kicking Olive Oyl, Popeye’s girlfriend. When Popeye attempts to rescue her, the massive Bluto beats his diminutive opponent to a pulp, while Olive Oyl helplessly wrings her hands. At the last moment, as our hero oozes to the floor, and Bluto is trying, in effect, to rape Olive Oyl, a can of spinach pops from Popeye’s pocket and spills into his mouth. Transformed by this gracious infusion of power, he easily demolishes the villain and rescues his beloved. The format never varies. Neither party ever gains any insight or learns from these encounters. They never sit down and discuss their differences. Repeated defeats do not teach Bluto to honour Olive Oyl’s humanity, and repeated pummellings[sic] do not teach Popeye to swallow his spinach before the fight.²Wink, “The Myth of Redemptive Violence,” 1.

Sadly, this mentality is present in more than just movies and books. When America was attacked on September 11th, almost fourteen years ago, we declared war on the Taliban organization less than two weeks later instead of taking the time to heal and process what happened. Since then, the Middle-East has been in a constant state of terror and disrepair, while many Americans have developed a mentality of Islamaphobia as a result; something that, if attempts were taken to make peace non-violently or diplomatically, could have been avoided. While it is impossible to say success would have been wholly guaranteed through non-violent efforts, it should be poignantly clear that more war has only made things worse for both American and Middle-Eastern citizens alike. Instead of looking at the examples of the nonviolent resistance in Poland against the Communists, which resulted in only three hundred deaths in the course of ten years, or modeling our actions after figures like Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, or Jesus Christ himself, the myth has convinced us to retaliate and kill, all in the name of self-preservation, ignoring (or simply not caring) how many more deaths were bound to occur in the process.³Walter Wink, Jesus and Nonviolence: A Third Way (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2003. Kindle edition., 51.

Even though Hamlet is fiction, his actions demonstrate when vengeance is taken into the hands of humans, there is never a proper or beneficial result.

So what does the myth of redemptive violence have to do with Hamlet? How does the religion of Christianity, something Hamlet makes allusions to numerous times, call his own actions into question? And why does this even matter? Even though Hamlet is fiction, his actions demonstrate when vengeance is taken into the hands of humans, there is never a proper or beneficial result. This is enhanced when contrasted with Jesus: according to Christian theology, this God-man, who is condemned to death for sins he did not commit, refuses to fight back against his enemies, and instead of death having the final say, God Himself vindicates this self-sacrificial love by raising Jesus from the grave. This thereby defeats death, showing us that justice is not found by killing others in retribution, but through restoration that is salvific to all people, not simply oneself.

Instead of trusting God to dole out vengeance,⁴Romans 12:19 Hamlet decides to take matters into his own hands by killing his uncle Claudius, the man who killed his father and wrongfully assumed the throne. Rather than attempting to correct or fix a previously held social status, as one might attempt to do through revenge, this vengeance is defined solely by a desire to see his father’s murderer brought to justice.⁵Theodore M. Benditt, “Revenge.” Philosophical Forum 38.4 (2007): 357-363. Academic Search Premier. Web. 7 Sept. 2014. In an effort to be subversive, he pretends to be mentally disturbed, which allows him to secretly plot Claudius’s death. Through the usage of a play that re-enacts the details of his father’s demise, Claudius shows telltale signs of being guilty and leaves, thereby confirming Hamlet’s suspicions. However, through an unfortunate chain of events, this long-desired vengeance only happens once many other lives have been taken in the process, including Ophelia, the woman he loves, her father Polonius, Laertes her brother, and his own mother. By the time Hamlet kills Claudius, he himself succumbs to death, leaving behind his dear friend Horatio.

The monster Hamlet desired to destroy ends up consuming him and all he loved instead.

What we see here is not restoration, or even justice. Nothing has been made right. No restoration has occurred. In fact, one could argue, and rightly so, the entire situation is worse off than if Hamlet would have confronted King Claudius, extended forgiveness, and worked towards reconciliation. Hamlet, deciding to play the role of the avenger, instead ends up bound to “a desperate mode of imitation, avenging wrongs with wrongs … [in which] he is allowed only to re-act to and to re-enact the original crime.”⁶David Scott Kastan, “‘His Semblable In His Mirror’: Hamlet And The Imitation Of Revenge.” Shakespeare Studies 19 (1987): 111. The monster Hamlet desired to destroy ends up consuming him and all he loved instead.

A question must be asked at this point: what would have happened if Hamlet decided to spare King Claudius’s life? First and foremost, it needs to be recognized Hamlet was not initially excited or eager to take things into his own hands; rather, whether for personal or public matters, there seems to have been some hesitation to listen to the ghost’s tale of woe.⁷Philip Goldstein, “Hamlet: Not A World Of His Own.” Shakespeare Studies 13 (1980): 71-74. Next, it should be stated that despite the dualistic tendencies pervading most arguments, there were not only two choices before Hamlet: kill King Claudius or do nothing. It was not simply a matter of taking things into his own hands or letting God sort it all out later. He could have easily continued his plan to expose the King’s sinfulness through the play, and as a result, Claudius could have been exposed before a court and been tried for murder. Hamlet could have also gone to his mother and close friends and disclosed to them the truth of the matter in order to bring the King to a place of repentance. In this runs the risk of Hamlet losing his life, as it would have been viewed as sign of treason, but with Hamlet’s own reputation of being loved and cherished, the King’s every action most likely would have been viewed through a lens of scrutiny.

While this is not an exhaustive list of actions Hamlet could have taken, it should be enough for one to consider that vengeance is never the best option, let alone the only option. Through Hamlet’s desire to take justice into his own hands, he might have fulfilled his own desire for vengeance, but he took several innocent lives in the process. This is something that, regrettably, happens more often than not in the world, even outside of fictional borders. This, however, is the result of such a powerful narrative, the myth of redemptive violence, being interwoven into the very fabrics of societies and governments alike. Maybe this is why Shakespeare decided to write Hamlet. Maybe, instead of trying to perpetuate the myth, he wanted to inspire people to see the futility of retaliation and retribution and wanted to challenge his peers to take an alternative road throughout life. Whatever the case may be, it is clear there is much more beneath the surface of Hamlet than one may initially perceive, and unless a greater and outside narrative is brought in to interpret the classic, the challenge may be missed and ignored.