others that aren’t presently threats to ourselves. But in that case, we
would expect to enjoy tragedies that show events unlikely to threaten us
more than those that show real, extant threats. Thus, a Chekhov play that
depicts bored, spoilt, miserable people whittling away their lives would
be less pleasurable to a modern, Western audience thanOedipus Tyrannus,
whose particular misfortunes, whatever else one may say about them, do
not pose an imminent danger to most of us. However, this just doesn’t
seem to be true: some people prefer Chekhov; others prefer Sophocles.
And, what’s more, it’s not always so easy to treat misfortunes at such a
particular level. Thus, I might be happily going about my day, when,
upon being taken toOedipus Tyrannus, I am suddenly reminded (say) that
human lives are frail, and that even the best and most noble individuals
have little or no chance at fending off the horror that confronts them at
every turn. This is made more pressing, because it’s at least a reasonable
interpretation ofOedipus Tyrannus that misfortune tends to strike just
when you feel most secure and prosperous–exactly when, for Hobbes,
the pleasurable response to the misfortune of others is meant to kick in.
So even though some of the specifics of Oedipus’plight are unlikely to
concern each audience member, it’s fair to say that the general menace of
deep instability and insecurity might be enough to cause them some bother.
Again, why assume that pleasure at not being Oedipus would override
displeasure at being reminded that the same (sort of) thing might happen
to me? Of course, we haven’t ruled out some instances of just the response
that Hobbes outlines. It’s just that, for all we know, reminding people
of the dangers facing others could at least go either way.
Denying the second commitment: tragedy without pleasure
If we can’t solve our problem by appealing to pleasure that we take in
real suffering, then perhaps we could deny that the portrayal of tragic events
on stage is pleasurable. There are two ways to deny this: (1) tragedies are not
pleasurable at all; (2) tragedies, although they may be pleasurable, do not
please us in virtue of the tragic events that they portray.
Tragic displeasure?
A strict denial of the claim that tragedies please is relatively hard tofind.
Some philosophers have argued (with justification) that‘pleasure’doesn’t
seem to be a good description of what it is that we value about tragedies,
or of why it is that we watch them. Certainly, it seems right that the best
tragedies are not necessarily the tragedies that give us the most pleasure.^30
If you had asked me howUncle Vanyawas, I would probably have replied
that it was one of the best performances I had seen in a long time;
142 From the Stage to the World