Whose Antigone? The Tragic Marginalization of Slavery by Tina Chanter (review)

Tina Chanter’s book sets out to re-read Sophocles’ Antigone in light of two modern reworkings of the play from sub-Saharan Africa—Athol Fugard’s The Island (1974), which is based on an actual all-male performance of Antigone by prisoners on Robben Island (where Nelson Mandela was incarcerated), and Fémi Òsófisan’s Tègònni: An African Antigone (1999), a version highlighting racial tensions that is set in British-colonial Nigeria. But Chanter’s book is about much more than that, as she spends a good deal of time critiquing, on the one hand, the interpretive tradition of Western psychoanalysis, which sees gender and kinship relations as the defining themes of the Oedipus cycle, while decrying, on the other, Hegelian readings that view Antigone as an aesthetically pure, ethical heroine caught between obligations to family and state. The thesis of the book is perhaps best captured in Chanter’s own words: “It turns out that the issues raised by Òsófisan and Fugard . . . far from being tangential to those of Sophocles, are inscribed at the very heart of the Oedipal cycle. Yet their inscription has proved difficult to read by interpreters of Antigone who have inherited ways of reading inflected by philosophical and psychoanalytic legacies, which are themselves implicated in imperialism, bolstered by new world slavery” (143). Chanter’s critique of the West’s reception of Antigone is often illuminating, but the proposition that colonialism per se is the culprit of blindered readings and that slavery lies somehow at the heart of Sophocles’ original play fails to convince. There are disclaimers that this is not in fact the argument. For example: “The argument is [not] that Sophocles’ Oedipal cycle is really about the question of slavery” (xiii) and “I hope it is clear that my effort here is not to produce a universal narrative in which the truth about Antigone turns out to be that it is really about slavery” (144). But so much of Chanter’s discussion focuses on the topic of slavery—e.g., “A central task of the book is to demonstrate that Antigone’s discrimination of her brother Polynices from a slave is part of a larger complex of themes concerning the status of outsiders, foreigners, and slaves that informs the Oedipal cycle”(x)—that such comments read more like palinodes than as attenuations of the argument. The three whole paragraphs of unanswered, unsubstantiated rhetorical questions about the supposed centrality of slavery to the Antigone and its reception at pages 89–90 reinforce this impression.

Chanter does, however, offer informed and sensitive readings of Fugard’s and Osófisan’s works (chaps. 3 and 4). These form the best parts of the book, to which end the plot synopses of those plays on pages 147–49 will be helpful to the reader who is unfamiliar with them. Also good is the analysis/critique of Hegel’s views on tragedy, and on the Antigone in particular (chap. 2). But the book is bloated at the ends: a 38-page preface is followed by a 27-page introduction. Add to that 46 pages of endnotes and the total is 111 pages of prolegomena and epilegomena, much of which is, in this reader’s judgement, parerga. What remains are 124 pages (of a total 235, excluding bibliography and index) of actual evidence and development of the thesis. This feature of the book is due in large part to repetitiveness: Chanter has some fine turns of phrase, to be sure, but statements made once or twice are repeated again and again throughout with no appreciable gain in thought, giving a snowball effect to the development of the argument, which at times is difficult to unpack. A lot of additional space is taken up by metadiscourse: e.g., “this book concerns itself with” (xxxvii); “my overarching approach” (20); “one of the aims of this book” (this on p. 22, after 38 pages of...