Power plays

Shakespeare's "Coriolanus" and the never-ending pursuit of a pluralistic democracy

The Supreme Court of the United States

I’m reading through Shakespeare’s plays in an attempt to make sense of the world. Today I’m writing about “Coriolanus.” For a quick reference to posts on previous plays, click here. Next week, “Pericles.”

Live long enough, and every step toward a better world you’ll see reversed. My husband recently shared his theory on why this is. Progression takes hard work; it’s messy; it’s uncertain. Any small wins can be revoked easily by a refusal to budge, by not making an effort, by getting distracted. Risk aversion nudges some to preserve the status quo, with its known positives and negatives, while rejecting the promise of improvement.

This week, with its anniversary of “Bloody Sunday” on the Edmund Pettis Bridge, I’m reminded of the immense struggle to secure equal voting rights in the US. Despite its tragedy, Bloody Sunday resulted in the Voting Rights Act signed into law in 1965. And then, with one decision (Shelby County v. Holder), five men who had been appointed to the Supreme Court were able to gut the law responsible for maintaining, for 48 years, almost unencumbered access for all citizens to participate in democracy.

In a country that’s founded on a democratic constitution, only 48 of its 237 years have been ruled by law denying states the ability to encumber citizens’ rights to vote. Which is to say, 80% (and counting) of the country’s history has witnessed its tragic failure to fulfill its democratic founding on the most basic level, the right of citizens to cast a vote.

Since 2013, the states whose electoral practices were released from preclearance¹ by Shelby County v. Holder have been laboring at an astonishing speed to remove voters from the rolls. Not all voters, just those who are statistically likely to vote against the state’s ruling party. Despite Chief Justice Roberts’ majority opinion that discrimination is a thing of the past, states have raced to demonstrate just how robust and modern their discrimination tactics can be.

It isn’t inertia that prevents progressive movement, but actors whose resources enable them to abridge rights that were won with blood and sacrifice. The right to vote. The right for you and your children to read diverse opinions. The right to marry the person you love. The right to make decisions about your body and family planning. The right to exist in public without fear of being attacked for your identity. The right to privacy. All of these rights are being challenged, today, by people who brand themselves patriots and freedom fighters. Patriots with allegiance to would-be autocrats. Freedom for the few, not all.

The play Coriolanus depicts a political theatre in which opinions are swayed by re-interpreting facts to suit political agendas, convincing people to vote in a way that denies their self-interests. It ends tragically; why wouldn’t it? Let’s take a look.

Summary

In the fifth century BC², Rome was an aristocratic republic, led by two consuls elected yearly. The republic was roiled by class-based discontent and it sought dominion over neighboring peoples, waging wars against them. One of those neighbors was the Volsci people, or Volscians, who lived south of Rome; their largest cities were Antium and Corioli³.

The play opens with a rebellion in Rome. Lacking affordable food, the people are famished. Some target Caius Martius (later to be named Coriolanus) with their anger: “Let us kill him, and we’ll have corn at our own price.” Others argue for a balanced assessment of him as a man and urge their compatriots to consider Martius’ unblemished military record.

Menenius, a friend of Martius, arrives to settle the crowd. Though a patrician, Menenius is widely trusted for his honesty, and the crowd listens to him with respect. Martius enters, and after speaking rudely to the protestors, he announces that the Senate has passed the citizens’ petition, with his support. Martius isn’t a politician who mollifies the electorate; he’s a man of action who can get things done, despite his rude demeanor.

Word arrives that the Volsces are on the attack—news that Martius welcomes, since it beckons him to battle with the leader of the Volsces, Tullus Aufidius, a long-standing adversary. Martius leaves for battle with two other generals: Cominius and Titus Lartius.

Martius leaves behind his wife Virgilia and a young son. They live with Volumnia, Martius’ mother, who has raised her son to be a warrior. She herself has an appetite for brutalism: she finds it admirable that her grandson, after playing with a lovely butterfly, eats it angrily when his mood sours. Wife Virgilia has sworn not to leave the house until Martius returns, which Volumnia considers ridiculous; Volumnia has no time for passive resistance.

The Roman strategy against the Volsces is to wage the war on two fronts: Cominius has split off to fight in the countryside while Titus Lartius and Martius attack the city of Coriole. Volsci soldiers stream out of the city to take the battle to the Romans, who are beaten back. As Martius prepares an attack on Coriole, the city gates open and he enters, alone, before the gates close behind him.

Assuming Martius dead, Lartius mourns him, then is amazed to see Martius appear in the flesh, bloodied by his fight with the Corioles but victorious. Roman soldiers loot the city while the battle still rages in the countryside. Martius leaves Lartius to wrap up their victory in Coriole, so that he can leave to assist Cominius and confront his nemesis, Aufidius.

Cominius is in the midst of a retreat when Martius arrives, still bloodied by the recent conflict, and reviving the Roman offense. Martius and Aufidius face off in battle. Despite several Volscians aiding Aufidius in the fight, Martius beats them back and wins. He’s proclaimed Martius Caius Coriolanus, in honor of winning Coriole⁴.

Coriolanus’ first act post-victory is to remember a Volsci man who’d given him aid and who’d been captured by the Romans. Coriolanus orders the man’s release.

Coriolanus re-enters Rome in a victory parade. He’s nominated to be consul, and Cominius gives a nominating speech that details Coriolanus’ achievements. The praise, though earned, prompts Coriolanus to leave the room, not wanting to hear his praises sung.

This speech seals Coriolanus’ nomination, and he’s called back for the next step of the election process. Custom decrees that he put on a cloak of humility, meet the common people, and ask for their votes. Coriolanus agrees to that, but he refuses to disrobe to show off his war wounds.

He meets citizens in small groups and receives their support. Once this step is completed, he’s taken to the Senate to confirm his election. Meanwhile, Brutus and Sicinius, the tribunes who represent the common people, meet with their constituents who had voted for Coriolanus. The tribunes convince the citizens that they had voted in error, stipulating that Coriolanus is not what he seemed, and urging the commoners to rescind their support.

Brutus and Sicinius, speaking for the people, tell Coriolanus and the Senate that Coriolanus tricked the citizens and they now no longer support him; the roar from street mobs attest to this change of mind. Coriolanus rebuffs their opinion; Brutus and Sicinius call him a traitor and call for his execution. The mob enters, Coriolanus arms himself, and the fracas threatens to turn deadly. Cominius and Menenius convince Coriolanus to go home; Menenius will stay behind to calm down the mob. He’s unable to do so, but he’s able to get them to agree to an orderly trial if they’ll stand down. Fearing to face Coriolanus in combat, they agree.

At home, Volumnia convinces Coriolanus to speak to the tribunes with humility, acting  a part that the citizens want him to play. He must do this, she says, to prevent mutiny from dividing the state. She convinces him that this tactic will win him the post of consul.

The tribunes prepare for the showdown. Brutus plans to tease Coriolanus into anger, so that he’ll react with his usual lack of discretion, easily convincing the people of the truth of Brutus’ argument that Coriolanus despises the plebeians and seeks to be a tyrant. Once goaded, Coriolanus quickly responds forcefully, and the tribune banishes him for treason.

The division between the nobility and commoners deepens with Coriolanus’s banishment, despite the tribunes’ strategy to evict Coriolanus to temper anger. Internal division weakens the state, a fact that the Volscians plot to use to their advantage.

Coriole having been overtaken, Aufidius has retreated to Antium. Coriolanus heads there to find Aufidius. Coriolanus enters the city in disguise, aware that previously he’s slain many of its citizens in battle and would be targeted if recognized. Coriolanus has decided to switch sides:

CORIOLANUS
    O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn,
    Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart,
    Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal and exercise
    Are still together, who twin as ‘twere in love
    Unseparable, shall within this hour,
    On a dissension of a doit, break out
    To bitterest enmity. So fellest foes,
    Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep
    To take the one the other, by some chance,
    Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends
    And interjoin their issues. So with me.
    My birthplace hate I, and my love’s upon
    This enemy town. I’ll enter. If he slay me,
    He does fair justice; if he give me way,
    I’ll do his country service.
-Act 4 Scene 4

Coriolanus presents himself to Aufidius and offers his services to fight against Rome. Aufidius accepts his offer and receives Coriolanus warmly.

Back in Rome, the tribunes congratulate themselves on the success of exiling Coriolanus. They dismiss news that the Volsces are planning an attack, refusing to hear Menenius’ warnings against complacency. News arrives that Coriolanus has joined with Aufidius and that the Volsci army has stormed through the Roman countryside en route to Rome. Cominius and Menenius turn on the tribunes, blaming them for this dire turn of events. The citizens start denying their part in Coriolanus’ exile.

On the eve of what’s likely to be a successful and brutal attack by Coriolanus and Aufidius, Rome sends Coriolanus’ friends and family to beseech Coriolanus to spare Rome. Coriolanus rebuffs his friends but agrees to meet with his wife, mother Volumnia, and young son. Volumnia acknowledges she can take no side in a battle between her son and her country: were either to lose she would lose all. So, she begs him to negotiate a peace. Her entreaty moves Coriolanus, and Aufidius agrees to grant peace to Rome.

Coriolanus returns to Coriole, and he’s hailed as a returning hero. He speaks to the assembled crowd of commoners and lords and announces that he’s bringing them the Roman spoils of war.

Aufidius, who’s been secretly conspiring against his nemesis, turns on Coriolanus and denounces him as a traitor. Aufidius’ conspirators kill Coriolanus, vanquishing a man whom Aufidius couldn’t beat in five previous hand-to-hand battles. The lords of the city extol Coriolanus, and Aufidius changes with the mood. His anger now spent, he proposes to bury Coriolanus with dignity.

Thoughts

We’ve seen in Shakespeare’s English history plays the attention he paid to whether a king (or would-be king) has the voice of the common people behind him. Consider Bolingbroke’s vaunted ease in winning over popular sentiment: returning from exile to depose Richard II, Bolingbroke (soon to become Henry IV) gathers the support of the commoners as he makes his way across the English countryside.

Common people have no political voice in a monarchy, but when much of a king’s duty consists of state defense and offensive excursions abroad to acquire wealth, the crown requires the will of the people (and their bodies) to wage wars. In his plays, Shakespeare uses the collective opinion of common people—who were the primary audience at his playhouse—to signal relative virtue in a character. Shakespeare created heroes with moral complexity. ‘The people love him’ is a means of tilting the scale in the character’s favor, despite whatever unattractive characteristics (usually: bellicosity, arrogance, deviousness) the character displays.   

England was experiencing its own popular discontent with food prices at the time the play was written, which could have prompted Shakespeare to resurrect Coriolanus’ legendary story. As best we know, the real-life Martius did settle a riot over the price of corn, and the main plot points follow history reasonably well⁵. A keen businessman, Shakespeare might have reached for a story ‘ripped from the headlines’ to fill the house. Since his business depended on not only the commoners who frequented his playhouse but also the goodwill of the crown and court, he wouldn’t have benefited from taking sides on England’s contemporaneous class issues. And indeed, Coriolanus deals a remarkably fair hand to both the oligarchs who run Rome and the citizens in the street. Those who don’t emerge unmarked are the tribunes, the chattering class who abuse their power by manipulating their constituency for their own goals.

In Rome, the tribunes of the people (or, tribunes of the plebes) had selective but incisive power. The republic was ruled by oligarchs, rich families who were senators and consuls. The tribunes could propose legislation, but they hadn’t the power to pass legislation. Their real power lay in their absolute veto to protect the interests of citizens. They were a check on power.

Political spin

The tribunes Sicinius and Brutus demonstrate this power when they call for Coriolanus’ exile, just as the Senate is prepared to announce him consul. They’ve waged a determined effort to convince the citizens that Coriolanus is their singular enemy. And their persuasion takes effort, because Coriolanus’s accomplishments for the people and for the state are stellar: he gave them corn when they petitioned for it, he won Coriole single handedly and fought off an attempted take-over by the Volsces. Scene after scene finds the tribunes whipping up antipathy against Coriolanus, despite the clear evidence that causes men to doubt the tribunes’ claims.

After Coriolanus has met with citizens and received their support, Brutus and Sicilius send Coriolanus to the Senate to be elected consul while they remain behind to speak with the people. The commoners assert their support for Coriolanus, which the tribunes seek to remove.

SICINIUS (to the Citizens)        Thus to have said,
    As you were fore-advised had touched his spirit
    And tried his inclination, from him plucked
    Either his gracious promise which you might,
    As cause had called you up, have held him to, 
    Or else it would have galled his surly nature,
    Which easily endures not article
    Tying him to aught. So putting him to rage,
    You should have ta’en th’advantage of his choler
    And passed him unelected.
BRUTUS (to the Citizens)            Did you perceive
    He did solicit you in free contempt
    When he did need your loves, and do you think
    That his contempt shall not be bruising to you
    When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies
    No heart among you? Or had you tongues to cry
    Against the rectorship of judgement?
SICINIUS (to the Citizens)                             Have you
    Ere now denied the asker, and now again,
    Of him that did not ask but mock, bestow
    Your sued-for tongues?
THIRD CITIZEN
    He’s not confirmed, we may deny him yet.
-Act 2 Scene 3

Having created a character whose most singular attribute is honor, Shakespeare must create a reason for Coriolanus’ defection to the enemy camp and leading a war against his beloved state. The play solves the problem with the tribunes generating misinformation and discontent so damning it would propel Coriolanus out of Rome and into the arms of his enemy. The tribunes are able to do this by taking a kernel of truth—Coriolanus’ brash words—and developing that seed into a fruitful plant by insinuation and extrapolation, regardless the facts.

Coriolanus’ integrity and claim to honesty

Being a warrior defines Coriolanus. His mother raised him this way (“Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck’st it from me” says Volumnia), and he holds to this identity with immense resolution. He’s blunt and without artifice, shying away from displaying his war wounds—which would win him the sympathy of lords and commoners alike—to acquire the consul seat of power, a post to which his ambition drives him. To do so would be, he thinks, to put on an act, and he can’t bring himself to pretend to be something he isn’t.

Despite advice from his loyal counselor Menenius, Coriolanus speaks his unfettered opinion when it’s politically unwise. Even more, he mocks those he should be courting for votes. He chastises the commoners for sitting around idly while he was defending the state and shedding blood in the effort. Remarkably, he says this in service of a political campaign.

However, the play demonstrates that Coriolanus’ warrior character is itself a role he plays, selectively. Intent on revenge, he joins the enemy camp. He refuses to hear the pleadings of his former generals-in-arms, Cominius and Menenius. He turns a hardened heart to their pleas for mercy. He attempts to maintain this guise when his wife and mother come to him, and he finds he can’t. Before he was a warrior, he was a child who loved his mother. He’s undone when she, a woman both proud and outspoken, bends her knee in subservience to him.

Despite bearing a name that recalls the god of war, Martius is a man of great compassion. He’s well aware of the widows and orphans who survive the men he killed in battle, and he’s mindful of the grief he’s caused. His first impulse, having won a battle, is to ensure the release of a prisoner who gave him aid.  

In the end, what drives Coriolanus is an obsession to impose order upon his world. He is indeed a simple man, lacking nuance and pretense. His exile was wrong; he sought to correct it by embracing an adversary. If Rome does something wrong, all of Rome must pay. Willful starvation is wrong; he corrected that by making food affordable.

Place Coriolanus in any situation, and he will be himself.

VOLUMNIA
    To see inherited my very wishes,
    And the buildings of my fancy. Only
    There’s one thing wanting, which I doubt not but
    Our Rome will cast upon thee.
COROIOLANUS                                     Know, good mother,
    I had rather be their servant in my way 
    Than sway with them in theirs.
-Act 2 Scene 1

To the Romans and Volsces, he’s a man with super-human abilities, a Batman who needs only a sword to wreak justice. Little wonder that both friends and foe want to claim him as their own: who doesn’t want a superhero to fight your battles? Unhappily for Coriolanus, it’s easier to embrace the idea of the man he is than the man himself. He’s an easy political target for villains in the political class (consider Harvey Dent in The Dark Knight). Trouble is, Coriolanus isn’t controllable. He’s not political.

Volumnia

This role, both on the page and in performance, serves as a powerful balance to the villainous tribunes. Ralph Fiennes’ movie of the play is thrilling to watch, not least for the actors whose performances realize the play within a modern context. With Fiennes in the title role, Gerard Butler as Aufidius, Brian Cox as Menenius, and Jessica Chastain playing Virgilia, it’s a star-filled ensemble designed to showcase the genius of the play while attracting viewers who normally wouldn’t watch Shakespearean drama. From them all, Vanessa Redgrave’s Volumnia steals every scene she’s in. She is the center of power. She alone can govern her son, the uncontrollable Coriolanus.

On the page, the primal force that’s Volumnia drives the play from the female seat of power, the mother. Men try to mock her as a crazy woman, and still she persists.

BRUTUS
    Here comes his mother.
SICINIUS Let’s not meet her.
BRUTUS Why?
SICINIUS They say she’s mad.
BRUTUS
    They have ta’en note of us. Keep on your way.
VOLUMNIA
    O, you’re well met! Th’hoarded plague o’th’ gods
    Requite your love!
-Act 4 Scene 2

She’s arrogant and blindly ambitious for her son. She’s strategic and commanding. She commits absolutely to achieving her aims through her son. She is the force that made Coriolanus a warrior, awesome in his military might. She would be, were Rome not a republic, a queen. We’ve seen her in Shakespeare’s Cleopatra, in his Eleanor of Aquitaine, in his Queen Margaret. When strong women acquire power, they’re forces to be reckoned with. She conquers Coriolanus and Aufidius with a masterclass in rhetoric:

VOLUMNIA       So we will home to Rome,
    And die among our neighbors—Nay, behold’s.
    This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
    But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship,
    Does reason our petition with more strength
    Than thou has to deny’t.—Come, let us go.
    This man had a Volscian to his mother.
    His wife is in Corioles, and this child
    Like him by chance.—Yet give us our dispatch.
    I am hushed until our sity be afire,
    And then I’ll speak a little.
           He holds her by the hand, silent
CORIOLANUS                              O mother, mother!
    What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope,
    The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
    They laugh at. O my mother, mother, O!
    You have won a happy victory to Rome;
    But for your son, believe it, O believe it,
    Most dangerously you have with him prevailed,
    If not most mortal to him. But let it come.
-Act 5 Scene 3

Conclusion

Men and women, very like the play’s tribunes, walk our political theatre, spreading disinformation and spinning tales that defy lived reality. We live in a world begot from the idea of ‘alternative facts,’ but there’s nothing new in our modern world. Then, as now, a price must be paid for speaking truth, because truth is not always convenient.

But history unfolds despite man’s feeble attempts to rewrite it on the fly. Coriolanus cast his lot with an enemy. Once his enemy had no more use of him, it was inevitable that the enemy would turn on him.

As long as society venerates power, peaceful existence for all will never endure. Power never constrains itself. It’s a constant battle.

Thanks for reading,

1. The requirement that states with a history of voter suppression must submit any changes to their electoral procedures to the Department of Justice, to ensure changes wouldn’t disenfranchise voters illegally, per the Voting Rights Act. This process put the burden of accountability on the states to prove they were following the law, instead of on citizens to sue after the fact. The Shelby County v. Holder ruling removed this proactive step, effectively nullifying 1965’s VRA.

2. Here’s the wiki link for more historical context: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gnaeus_Marcius_Coriolanus

3. Spellings in the play differ slightly from historical record. I’m rolling with it.

4. For the rest of the play, he’s known as Coriolanus.

5. Historians think the real life Coriolanus did break the corn riot by giving the commoners what they wanted; he won a battle over Corioli; he was nominated to be a consul; the tribunes of the people exiled him; leading the Volsci, he led an attack on Rome; he was killed by the Volsci. Shakespeare embroidered these facts a bit, and added characters, most notably the women and their pivotal roles in the plot.