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| Bertolt Brecht |
Like all of the other works I've read by Brecht thus far, The Trial of Lucullus is masterful. It is both thought-provoking and introspective, bearing the unmistakable mark of true artistic genius. Then again, I suspect all of Brecht's works could be described with similar language and sentiment.
As I read The Trial of Lucullus, I was struck time and again by the incredible similarities of the Roman General Lucullus and our soon-to-be ex-President George W. Bush. The mainstream press in America is starting to get a little sentimental towards our outgoing American Caesar, collectively musing that "W." might be coming around to realize the errors of his administration through the benefit of hindsight. But the truth of the matter is, the unabashed bravado with which Bush has led the U.S. through an eight-year campaign of rack and ruin is just cleverly tucked away under a thin veil of humility:
In a recent interview with Charles Gibson, Bush said,
"The thing that's important for me is to get home and look in that mirror and say, 'I did not compromise my principles,'" he said. "And I didn't. I made tough calls. And some presidencies have got a lot of tough decisions to make."
Of course, this statement was made after five years of an unjust war which has seen the deaths of tens of thousands of innocent Iraqi civilians, including workers and activists, women and children, individuals...and entire families. And most of them were slaughtered after Bush's May 1, 2003 address in which he declared an end to major combat operations with the words, "(T)he tyrant has fallen and Iraq is free." If George W. Bush can look in the mirror after all this and still feel as though he has not compromised his principles then I respectfully submit that his mirror is not made of reflecting glass but of thick, opaque stone.
Brought before "The Court of the Dead," Brecht's Lucullus was compelled to defend his life and work before an incorruptible jury:The stakes were high for the much-celebrated general. Had he proved worthy, Lucullus would spend a glorious afterlife in the Elysian fields. If he did not gain the favor of the jury, he would be condemned to the eternal "nothingness" of Hades. Unable to summon his peers and cohorts as character witnesses, Lucullus argued that his legacy as a benevolent tyrant — a liberator through conquest, one might say — was the powerful and convincing evidence he needed to gain entry into Elysium:
THE JUDGE
Unfortunate man! The names of the great
Arouse no fear among us below.
Here
They can no longer threaten. Their utterances
Pass for lies. Their deeds
Are not recorded. And their glory
Is to us like smoke, a sign
That a fire has raged.
Shade, your bearing indicates
That enterprises of some scope
Are associated with your name.
Those enterprises
Are not known here.
LUCULLUS
Then I request
That the frieze for my tomb be brought
On which my triumphal procession is shown.
Unfortunate man! The names of the great
Arouse no fear among us below.
Here
They can no longer threaten. Their utterances
Pass for lies. Their deeds
Are not recorded. And their glory
Is to us like smoke, a sign
That a fire has raged.
Shade, your bearing indicates
That enterprises of some scope
Are associated with your name.
Those enterprises
Are not known here.
LUCULLUS
Then I request
That the frieze for my tomb be brought
On which my triumphal procession is shown.
The jury was unimpressed.
How differently would George W. Bush assert his place in history if given the same opportunity as Lucullus? I think it is reasonable to assume that history will soon judge the Bush presidency with the same measure of scorn that the Jury of the Dead heaped upon Lucullus. Of course, Bertolt Brecht is no longer among us and, as such, he can't help us with a contemporary adaptation of The Trial of Lucullus. But if I get some free time one of these days, I might take a crack at writing one.
Recommended Reading
George W. Bush on V.I. Lenin greeklish.org 04 Nov 2007
Questions From a Worker Who Reads by Bertolt Brecht, 1935 marxists.org
The Conquest of the Unhappy Consciousness: Repressive Desublimation from One-Dimensional Man by Herbert Marcuse, 1964 (contains a short exposition on Brecht’s “V effect.”)
