Even in this age of homo electronicus, the eternal question of love and hate or good and evil never ceases to lose its flame. One critical ingredient of a classic is to arouse in us such an emotion from the innermost depth of our heart.

Filial ingratitude seems to be the overriding theme of both Sophocles’ Oedipus trilogy and Shakespeare’s King Lear, though they were written two millennia apart.

Oedipus’ two sons, Polynices and Etiocles, are ingrates. Especially the ingratitude of Polynices, who casts off his own father, banishes him to exile, and reduces him to rags, is despicable.

His sons’ brutal behavior contrasts sharply with his two filial daughters, Antigone and Ismene. In particular, Antigone dedicates herself as a blind old father’s guide and wanders with him in misery, hunger and barefoot through wild forests, tortured by rain and scorching sun.

Of his three daughters, Lear thinks that Cordelia, the youngest, is an ingrate. In reality, Goneril and Regan, who drive Lear out of their palaces and make him homeless and hungry in rags on a cold stormy thundering night, are ungrateful ones. Lear realizes Cordelia’s genuine love too late at their too brief reunion.

To the last day of his life, Oedipus never forgives his two villainous and power-hungry sons, though before he dies, he asks Theseus, king of Athens to look after his two daughters. Lear, too, is bitter till the end about his two daughters whom he compares to a sharp-toothed serpent, a sea monster or a vulture.

As Oedipus belatedly realizes his tragic fate ― “No evil that has a name was absent” ― Lear admits that he is “a poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man.”

One subtle difference is, however, discernible in their final end of life. While Oedipus dies in atonement with gods, Lear faints with slain Cordelia in his arms.

As a student of politics, I can observe from these two classics the fatal flaws of political leaders everywhere of all ages. Two points are noteworthy in this regard.

One, political leaders’ poor judgment can be devastating. It can often result in the demise of themselves and their families, and lead to large-scale death and destruction in their countries. Then or now, rulers’ absolute power and autocratic rule are conducive to hasty and hazardous judgment.

Even if Oedipus’ tragic life is fated by gods, as he claims it repeatedly to the end, he still exercises poor judgment in falsely accusing Tiresias, the blind prophet, and Creon, his brother-in-law, as the co-conspirators to overthrow his kingdom, and ordering them out of his sight.

Unlike Oedipus, Lear has not committed any sin against his parents. All his frivolity and folly are of his own making. Blinded by bogus love and flattery of Goneril and Regan, he cannot fathom Cordelia’s genuine love.

Lear hastily divides his kingdom and gives it away to his two undeserving elder daughters while disowning Cordelia. He also ignores his most loyal nobleman Kent’s appeal to stop such a rash and hideous decision and instead exiles Kent.

In short, the foolhardy behavior of Oedipus and Lear primarily results from their unchecked and arbitrary rule. Their personal and family tragedies and fratricidal wars give us a stern reminder that good judgment is the first and foremost principle of political leadership.

Two, political leaders’ unwarranted pride is lethal. Absolute rulers’ self-conceit tends to corrode their ability to distinguish what is right from wrong or genuine from sham. Worse, tyranny begets hubris, and hubris, in turn, will dig the grave for such tyrants.

Oedipus is self-righteous when Tiresias speaks point blank that the king himself is the murderer of his own father. Instead of taking what the prophet has said seriously by verifying his accusations, the king instantly exiles Tiresias.

If Oedipus’ hubris results from his patent lack of self-reflection and soul searching, Lear’s pride stems primarily from his wonton ignorance about the nature of power itself. After he frivolously gives away the kingdom to his two daughters, he first visits Goneril with 100 knights, squires and servants under the grand illusion that he will receive a warm welcome.

Contrary to his expectation, Lear gets chilly reception from his eldest daughter. Worse, Goneril accuses her father’s entourage as being disorderly, debauched and lustful, and, thereby, making her palace a tavern or a brothel. Lear is outraged when she demands that his staff be slashed to 50 on his next visit.

In a fit of fury, Lear hastily leaves Goneril for Regan’s castle. He expects a great hospitality from Regan. To his shocking dismay, she turns out to be worse than Goneril. She would neither permit 25, 10 nor five of her father’s staff to enter her palace. She declares that only her father may visit her but not one follower more!

What lesson can we draw from the two beggars who were once kings in the above classic plays? Minimally, political power holders or power seekers must learn the naked truth that human being is mortal and fallible, political power, democratic or dictatorial, is transient and his/her given authority is finite. 

By Yang Sung-chul

Yang Sung-chul is a former Korean ambassador to the United States and adviser to the Kim Dae-jung Peace Foundation. ― Ed.