Why Culture as Mythos Matters
BY ADAM YOUNG
Introduction
In The Birth of Tragedy,1 Friedrich Nietzsche argues for a theory of culture based on an
existentialist view that life is fundamentally horrible and absurd. We can transcend this
fundamental and still engage in meaningful existence, but only through a balanced appeal
to the core tendencies of humanity. For Nietzsche, this appeal is the most central task of
culture. Is he right, however, to attribute culture with such significance and to say that
without it there is only horror and absurdity? When a balanced appeal to core tendencies is
made, culture can indeed be attributed with such significance. In the absence of this
significant culture, horror and absurdity then ensue, leaving only precarious human
existence. This can be evidenced through Nietzsche’s work, as well as explaining how the
texts under discussion all relate to one another. In analyzing “Ekalavya, The Nishada,” a
short story from the classical Indian epic, Mahabharata, the positive existential implications
that follow from the presence of significant culture can be exposed. In exploring Joseph
Conrad’s novella, “Heart of Darkness,” and Peter Paul Rubens’ mythological painting,
“Drunken Silenus,” it can be validated that where significance is lacking, serious negative
implications for existence follow. For readers unfamiliar with the literary works, narrative
summaries will be provided before literary analyses.
1
Friedrich Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy, trans. Shaun Whiteside (London: Penguin Publishing, 2003), 40.
Valley Humanities Review Spring 2014
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Nietzsche’s Theory, Major Terms, and the Texts
Nietzsche applies his contention to the mythos view of culture, that is, where cultures
are based on retellings of archetypal narratives. This gives people a sense that their lives are
meaningful, as it helps them through times of tragedy that affect the human condition.2 For
Nietzsche, the roots of Western culture fix themselves firmly in the mythos of Ancient
Greece, from which he delineates the core tendencies. The first is the Dionysian, derived
from the god Dionysus, which Nietzsche primarily associates with intoxication and excess.3
Here, he crucially draws a further link to passion––the glowing, thundering force essential
for propelling human life.4 The second tendency is the Apollonian, derived from the god
Apollo, which Nietzsche correlates to beautiful dreams.5 He states that in dreams, “the
wondrous forms of the deities first appeared before the souls of men…” He claims dreaming
is a “joyful necessity,” and through it “life is made both possible and worth living.”6 Still,
neither tendency should dominate. Nietzsche implies that from Apollonian immersion
comes a disconnection from passion, while Dionysian indulgence––particularly of
intoxication and excess––destroys the beautiful dream, leaving only life’s horror and
absurdity. Thus, the tendencies are not parts of a mere dichotomy. Each complements the
other “Just as the reproduction of species depends on the duality of the sexes.”7 For
Nietzsche, if we are to transcend horror and absurdity, we must embrace the balance of
tendencies that can be found within retellings of archetypal stories.
John Carroll, “John Carroll: Nihilism, Existence and the Future of Western Civilization.” YouTube video, 17:04.
May 9, 2012. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQTvYUtakuM
3 Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy, 14; 26.
4 Ibid., 17.
5 Ibid., 14-15.
6 Ibid., 14; 16.
7 Ibid., 14.
2
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With Nietzsche stressing Dionysian passions and Apollonian dreaming, in what can
we invest our passions? What deity-like forms can we dream of? Ideal figures are the
answer. Stories about the lives of such figures, as per the mythos view of culture, present the
characteristics of these ideals. These ideals function to inspire secular or religious faith, as
well as aspiration toward meaningful existence.8 Thus, it is culture’s appeal to a balance of
these tendencies, manifesting in the form of certain ideals whereby horror and absurdity are
negated, that serves as the meaning of significant culture.
Regarding the chosen texts, a challenge arises in testing theories outside of works
initially considered. For Nietzsche, these were as diverse as Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Raphael’s
Transfiguration, and other tragedies of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. In considering
stories diverse in form, period, content, and origin––even outside of Western tradition––one
can go beyond Nietzsche’s considered works to determine in what other capacities his
theory may apply.
“Ekalavya, The Nishada”
Summary
This short story focuses on a young Nishada prince, the title character, who aims to
become a disciple of Drona, a revered teacher of martial skills, namely archery. Ekalavya is
rejected, but nonetheless masters archery on his own, as inspired by an image of Drona.
Soon after, Drona’s disciples find Ekalavya in the forest and bear witness to his virtuoso
archery skills. Ekalavya is then brought before Drona, where he explains to the teacher how
he came to be so adept. Arjuna, Drona’s favourite pupil, becomes jealous of Ekalavya’s
8
John Carroll, The Existential Jesus (Berkeley: Counterpoint Press, 2007), 14.
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ability, and prompts Drona to ask Ekalavya to sever his own right thumb. Despite knowing
he will never practice archery again, Ekalavya submits and then salutes the teacher.
Analysis
In this story, we can locate two illustrations of significant culture from which
positive existential implications follow. The first figure of significance is Drona, who carries
the priestly status of a “great Brahmin.”9 Drona’s status and ability as a teacher rouse
considerable Dionysian passion within Ekalavya. This becomes evident through the
“magnetism of desire” that grips the young prince; “All one's conscious and unconscious
thoughts are drawn towards this… desire, and all one’s actions become only echoes of this
voice of desire.”10 Following Drona rejecting him, we are told that Ekalavya “made a figure
of Drona… He called this image his guru. Daily he would worship this image…”11 We can
think of this image as the deity-like form of an Apollonian dream. Ekalavya is so thoroughly
engaged with this image of Drona, that he forms a strong faith in his guru, resulting in him
becoming adept at archery. However, archery appears merely to be the means by which
Ekalavya can worship––it is not this skill itself that directly bestows meaning upon his life.
This we know from Ekalavya’s willingness to sever his thumb. Ekalavya then falls at the feet
of Drona and salutes him.12 This implies that the act of loving Drona has driven Ekalavya’s
life toward having meaning. This is all Ekalavya seems to need, since he practiced archery
alone in the forest, without the expectation that he would meet Drona again. In other words,
Drona himself need not be present to assist Ekalavya with meaningful existence. With the
Kamala Subramaniam, trans., Mahabharata (Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1965), 42.
Ibid.
11 Ibid.
12 Ibid., 44.
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act of love to invest his passion and form his dream, Ekalavya experiences complete balance
of the Dionysian and Apollonian tendencies, yet no crisis of meaning. As such, horror and
absurdity become negated.
The second figure of significance is Ekalavya himself, as he possesses a number of
distinct, admirable characteristics though it is his balance of the tendencies to which these
characteristics conform that make Ekalavya significant. His Dionysian passion manifests in
an existence driven by love, which drives his refinement of his archery skills. His Apollonian
aspect then manifests in the form of beautiful artistry, as he creates immaculate grandeur
with his bow.13 With neither tendency indulged, thus providing modest boundaries,
Ekalavya’s further characteristics–– discipline, focus, selflessness, and humility––are
revealed. Combined, these characteristics form the teaching of ideal “Being,” an ideal of how
to live, a teaching that shines brighter than every other character in the story, including
Drona. While Drona is the revered teacher, Ekalavya serves as the archer who manages to
inspire the most admiration from those around him. For instance, Drona is “charmed” by
Ekalavya’s story, which speaks to Ekalavya’s ideal characteristics. Additionally, Arjuna’s
jealously acknowledges an impressive truth that Ekalavya has become “the greatest archer
in the world.”14 This label implies that among a group of aspiring archers, Ekalavya becomes
the only one who could possibly provide an ideal beyond Drona, for Ekalavya is not merely
great––he is the greatest, thus further inspiring faith and aspiration of significant culture.
13
14
Ibid., 43.
Ibid.
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Heart of Darkness
Summary
An English seaman named Marlow, one with quite a passion for exploring the
world, seeks an appointment as a ferryboat captain as an excuse for journeying Central
Africa’s Congo River. However, nightmarish realities of colonization and a surrounding
wilderness combined with the mystery of the Congo’s native people plague Marlow’s
journey. At the river’s end, he encounters an exceptional, yet troubled, figure named Kurtz
who offers no consolation, but adds great implications to the story.
Analysis
In this text, we are confronted with the converse of “Ekalavya” from the previous
piece, where significant culture is lacking. First, we must consider the negative existential
implications of this lack for Marlow. Throughout the story, Marlow criticizes European
culture for its profound lack of significance. Brussels, a city that represents culture, reminds
Marlow of a “whited sepulcher.”15 This can be related directly to the book of Matthew which
reads, “Whitewashed tombs, which on the outside look beautiful, but inside they are full of
the bones of the dead and all kinds of filth.”16 This extension of thought evokes a strong
sense of discontent and lifelessness, which is the means by which Marlow has come to view
European culture. We can interpret the lifelessness inside the tomb-like city metaphorically,
as there being nothing at its core, or no ideal in its culture rather, that can give Marlow’s life
a sense of meaning. What follows is his rejection of this culture.
15
16
Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness (London: Penguin Publishing, 2011), 11.
Matt 23:27.
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We may interpret the ensuing journey as Marlow’s attempt to restore meaning
through significant culture. Part of this is revealed through his zest for exploration. He
states, recalling his childhood, “I would look for hours at [maps of] South America, or
Africa, or Australia and lose myself in all the glories of exploration,” and further, in
adulthood, “I always went… where I had a mind to go.”17 In Apollonian terms, Marlow
describes exploration in a dream-like sense by using the word “glory” in his childhood
recollection. In Dionysian terms, exploration is Marlow’s passion––spending hours looking
at maps, losing himself in the activity, and his ambition to go wherever he had a mind to go
suggests the thundering, glowing life force that is Dionysian passion. The balance of
tendencies seem to drive Marlow’s life from one stage to the next, imbuing his life with
significance. At this point though, he is yet to lose this balance, which is spurred by the
progress of his journey. However, exploration does not take the form of an ideal figure;
providing this had been the task of European culture which Marlow now rejects.
Exploration, which holds great significance for him, becomes his imperative for pursuing
the further significance of an ideal figure.
Although Marlow encounters no such figure, his life is now at risk of declining into
horror and absurdity, which becomes evident through his account of his existence as the
journey progresses. At one point, he equates losing direction on the river to being in a
desert.18 From this, we may liken Marlow’s “Being” to one without guidance, one where he
is uncertain as to what may sustain his existence. He further states, “There were moments
when one's past came back to one… But it came in the shape of an unrestful and noisy
dream, remembered with wonder among the overwhelming realities of this strange world of
17
18
Conrad, Heart of Darkness, 8-9.
Conrad, Heart of Darkness, 41.
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plants, and water, and silence. And this stillness of life did not in the least resemble a
peace.”19 Here, Marlow expresses a sense of longing for the bustle of European culture,
despite its insignificance, when confronted with the disturbing reality of the Congo River.
As such, Marlow’s journey has not become one that propels his existence towards meaning.
Rather, it has become one of the abolishment of his “habitual barriers and boundaries [of]
existence,” which a balanced appeal to the tendencies would have provided.20
It now becomes crucial that Marlow’s previous sense of “losing oneself in the glories
of exploration” becomes inverted, since exploration loses the form of a beautiful Apollonian
dream in which he can invest Dionysian passion.21 This is reinforced by his current attitude
towards exploring, claiming “I… shall not try now. The glamour’s off.”22 Upriver, Marlow
cannot risk taking a chance for escape in the dark wilderness. He then has little choice but to
continue with his appointment, doing so with the knowledge that the only thing in his life
that appealed to the balance of tendencies is souring.
This leads into negative existential implications for Kurtz, the troubled character
from the end of the river. In the initial account, Kurtz is deemed to be “remarkable,” with
many admirable qualities, including his talent as an artist and musician, his influence as an
engaging speaker, and a man of great action and intellect. These are all allusions to Kurtz
displaying aspects of an ideal.23 Greatly contributing to this ideal is Kurtz’s towering
ambition––to virtually establish himself upriver as a sacred figure amongst the native
people. Initially, Kurtz succeeds. However, through Marlow's first-hand contact we find
most of Kurtz’s ideal aspects squandered: “The shade of the original Kurtz frequented the
Ibid.
Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy, 39.
21 Conrad, Heart of Darkness, 8.
22 Ibid., 9.
23 Ibid., 22; 90.
19
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bedside of the hollow sham, whose fate it was to be buried presently in the mold of
primeval earth.”24 We can couple this and Kurtz’s dying words––“The horror! The
horror!”25––along with Nietzsche’s core reference to life’s fundamental nature, “Aware of
the truth from a single glimpse of it, all man can now see is the horror and absurdity of
existence… ”26 Kurtz’s last words suggest he had glimpsed this truth, which suggests him to
be a figure whose balance of the Apollonian and Dionysian had been completely obliterated.
While the natives seemed to be receptive to Kurtz, in the eyes of Marlow he was a failed
ideal. Where Marlow is able to escape, however tenuously, the horror and absurdity upriver
in his steamboat, Kurtz seems to have dwelled too long without significant culture. As such,
what ultimately eludes Kurtz is the possibility of continuing with life.
“Drunken Silenus”
Analysis
Like Conrad’s text, Rubens’ work suggests negative existential implications for
certain characters. The focus here is on three in particular: Silenus himself, the on-looking
child, and the nude woman.27 However, before considering any implications, one must first
examine Silenus as an embodiment of culture teetering towards horror and absurdity. From
this, the negative implications will follow. We can understand him as this embodiment from
Ibid., 85.
Conrad, Heart of Darkness, 86.
26 Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy, 40.
27 Silenus is depicted as the naked, overweight, bearded figure. He is positioned centrally within the work. The
on-looking child is positioned to the right-hand side with his hand on the goat’s head. The nude woman occupies
the bottom left-hand corner.
24
25
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the following observations: Silenus is an educator and “father of the satyrs.”28 He is then,
essentially, a leading figure to learn from; this much Silenus shares with an ideal of
significant culture. Yet it is the knowledge he imparts that has him teetering away from
significance. Nietzsche describes him, outside of the Rubens’ depiction, as the bearer of
“terrible wisdom.”29 This he recites to King Midas: “Miserable, ephemeral race… The best of
all things is… not to be born, not to be, to be nothing. But the second-best thing… is to die
soon.”30 This view hardly presents an ideal in which to invest one’s Dionysian passion for
life, or in which to form an Apollonian dream. As such, the view not only makes no
balanced appeal to the tendencies, but it makes no appeal at all. In the absence of significant
culture where there are no ideal figures, and thus no restraint afforded by the balance of
tendencies, Silenus can indulge two purely Dionysian aspects––intoxication and excess.
Silenus being intoxicated, as per the work’s title, furthers him as an embodiment of
culture moving towards horror and absurdity. This can be understood given the etymology
of intoxication, which essentially means “into poison.”31 Yet, this meaning not only partners
with the death association of Silenus’ terrible wisdom, it also gestures towards the two
planes of existence: the vertical plane, symbolizing life, and the horizontal plane,
symbolizing death.32 In Rubens’ work, the latter dominates. Regarding excess, its indulgence
manifests as the eradication of a moral boundary, whereby pedophilia becomes permitted. It
Oxford Dictionary of the Classical World, 3rd ed., s.v. “sātyrs and sīlens”. Satyrs are the half man/half goat
creatures within Rubens’ work. One is depicted just left of Silenus’ head, while others are depicted as babies on
the bottom left, suckling the nude woman’s breasts.
29 Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy, 25.
30 Ibid., 22.
31 New Oxford American Dictionary, version 2.2.3, s.v. “intoxicate”. The word begins with the prefix ‘in–’, meaning
‘into’, which is followed by the Latin ‘toxicum’, meaning ‘poison.’
32 John Carroll, The Western Dreaming: the Western World is Dying for Want of a Story (New South Wales: Harper
Collins, 2001).
28
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is from these points of excess and intoxication that we can now think of the negative
existential implications for each of the three figures.
Excess is largely present in the nude woman’s behavior, as she plays openly with the
genitals of a baby satyr beneath her.33 Her bent-over position situates her horizontally, and
the baby satyrs are her only support. In other words, the only thing supporting her existence
is the eradication of a moral boundary. Yet, it is boundaries such as those that are moral that
help to sustain existence.34 The implication here is that this woman’s existence is precarious.
Silenus, too, gestures towards the horizontal. His gaze is focused downwards, his body tilts
away from the vertical, his stumbling forwards suggests he could fall, and the position of
the toes on his right foot––tucked underneath––could suggest instability in maintaining the
vertical, emphasised by his immense body weight. Coupled with these hints at the
horizontal, his vacant expression may echo his terrible wisdom, for if the best thing is not to
be, and the next best is to die soon, then it would seem of little importance for Silenus to
concern himself with maintaining the vertical.35 The on-looking child directs his gaze
towards Silenus, and his expression is not one displaying rejection or disgust, but rather
curiosity and comfort in what he is seeing: the implication being that the child accepts the
teachings of Silenus. If this child is to take Silenus as his educator, his existence is certainly
in danger of teetering towards the horizontal, for an appeal to balancing the Apollonian and
Dionysian is seriously deficient.
Accentuating this is a gaze of curiosity and, perhaps, the smirk of keen interest from the old woman positioned
just above the on-looking child. Her stare suggests approval.
34 Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy, 39.
35 Ibid., 22.
33
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Conclusion
As I have argued, it is by culture’s appeal to a balance of the Apollonian and
Dionysian tendencies, which manifest in the form of ideal figures from mythos––significant
culture––whereby the fundamental horror and absurdity of existence is negated. Positive
existential implications followed from significance in the case of “Ekalavya, The Nishada.”
Ekalavya finds an ideal figure in Drona, while also presenting himself as a figure of
significance. Conversely, negative existential implications followed when significance was
lacking. In Heart of Darkness, European culture was deficient for Marlow, but his journey to
restore significance was an ultimate failure. His struggle to negate horror and absurdity then
ensued. Further, Kurtz struggled to establish significance but lost his life. In “Drunken
Silenus,” while the on-looking child understood the corrosive excess that Silenus displayed
and permitted, significance was deficient, which led us to think of the child’s existence as
tenuous. The same rang true for the nude woman. It can ultimately be concluded that within
the culture-as-mythos view, it is inherent that we seek and grasp the significant culture that
transcends Nietzsche’s fundamental reality. When this significance is lost, however, we then
see the extent to which culture can matter.
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