“A tragedy is a representation of an action that is whole, serious and of a certain magnitude. It has a beginning and middle and end. “ – Aristotle
If you are like me and find it interesting to follow the twists and turns of the so-called Murciagate I can assure you, we’re not alone. What I find most interesting, even above the essential question whether the abuse of status has been systematic or just a wrongdoing of a single person (or the evidence shown at Jim’s Loire a forgery) is not what most makes me tick. The incidents are not the most important thing for me, neither the people involved. For some reason it’s the story itself. The way it unfolds. While sipping my coffee this morning I realized that the very moment Parker released this statement Murciagate became not only a scandal but a Greek tragedy in its purest form.
The story of Murciagate has some archaic appeal to it, no doubt. As people we are drawn to stories and myths with such vigor. They work within the structures of culture interwoven in the texture so seamless that we don’t know whether we act in these structures or these structures more in us.
Let’s see what the good old Aristotle has to say about tragedy and read these real life events as a text. A tragedy obviously needs a plot but who’s the protagonist of this story? One might easily be inclined to think it was Mr. Pancho Campo, because he is undeniably in the core of events now unfolding. That, how ever, would be a mistake. Although Mr. Campo’s agency has been most vital for the plot to build up he’s not the protagonist of the story. In fact, the role of the villain falls on Mr. Campo.
Mr. Jay Miller isn’t the character either though it’s claimed Mr. Campo did the accused deeds in his name. In fact in this text, he’s only a vessel for the villain used to for many purposes. At the same time Mr. Miller might be seen as the false hero according to Vladimir Propp and a catalyst for a tragedy potentially of epic-scale.
The protagonist of the story is in fact Robert Parker himself. He was pulled in reluctant without a choice, drawn in from a distant location, just the way the protagonist should be. This is not the only thing that makes Parker a great main character, because as Aristotle put it:
“ The protagonist should be renowned and prosperous, so his change of fortune can be from good to bad.”
The protagonist’s has to conduct a hamartia, a tragic error of epic scale; a wrong doing which he carries out either by ignorance or mistake. If the protagonist is malign, sinister or evil, the play isn’t a true tragedy like this one. This part of the tragedy becomes self evident when you read Parker’s latest response on the evidence provided at Jim’s Loire.
“The change should come about as the result, not of vice, but of some great error or frailty in a character. That is hamartia.”
Hamartia needs to be a mistake. Here it’s Parker’s dismissive and evasive attitude towards the evidence that has been laid out for the whole world to be weighted and measured. The unfortunate consequence of the chosen approach (that seems to be some kind of a version of the hedgehog defense) is that all the sudden without a warning the Wine Advocate empire and the honor of Mr. Parker is on the line, no more, no less. A whole legacy. All thanks to the deeds of others. Never the less, the stone has been cast and it has already broken the surface tension of the pond. The splashing sound’s been heard over long distances. By denying the very existence of the rock, you see the Greek tragedy growing to it’s full potential.
According to Aristotle, a tragedy must have a beginning, middle and an end, in order for the play to be complete. “The beginning, called the incentive moment, must start the cause-and-effect chain but not be dependent on anything outside the compass of the play. The middle, or climax, must be caused by earlier incidents and itself cause the incidents that follow it.”
We’ve now witnessed the first two acts of the play. The middle part’s climax was the exhibition of the evidence showing that more than one person has lied during the procedure and is now caught pretty much red handed (if the evidence isn’t fabricated). Like the bow of Artemis ready to go off, we are entering the third and final act. In this part the energy trapped in the climax has to be discharged, in a disastrous way for many characters of the play.
The play displayed in front of our eyes is staying true to Sophocles whom Aristotle had in mind when he wrote Poetics more than two thousand years ago. The story is the same but this time the implementation is done with ubiquitous technology in real time without a rehearsal. It’s something quite likely never seen before in the history of play.
“The end of the tragedy is a catharsis of the tragic emotions of pity and fear. Spectators are purged of their own emotions of pity and fear through their vicarious participation in the drama.”
We, as the audience, go on looking for the catharsis without knowing how the story will end and what will happen to the involuntary protagonist. We know that the divine intervention, the deus ex machina, the enemy of a Greek tragedy, won’t likely happen, and at the same time we understand that tragedy isn’t a tragedy if it ends like a comedy. We need to see how it ends.
We need the catharsis because the plot has tied our emotions as the audience in to the play and the knot has to be opened. And it will be.