Othello, Race, and Amy Wax

Too often, our politics is corrupted by advocacy, leaving no time for reflection or critical thought. Every new piece of information serves only to bolster or refute an argument we were already trying to make. The danger of such an approach to politics is evident: it is close-minded and simplistic. Literature, when it is read honestly, forces us to think more carefully. Like any literary work with racial overtones (and, alas, many other books too), Othello is often politicized. Too many high school classes are wasted talking about whether Shakespeare is racist. We should not, however, let the inanity of this question and its attendant conversations dissuade us from considering whether the play might have something to say about how societies and individuals treat race. Although it provides no definitive answer, Othello questions the extent to which race matters. As it does so, it reveals that questions about race are hardly particular. They involve something much greater, something universal.

For Othello himself, race is of utmost importance. He believes himself shackled by his race, interpreting everything through the prism of his otherness. Indeed, Othello does suffer the injustice of racism. But the central tragedy of Othello results from his misinterpretation of the significance of visual stimuli, from the famous handkerchief to his own skin color. There are racists in Othello, but they do not bring about our protagonist’s downfall. His death is the culmination of a series of communication and comprehension failures committed by Othello himself. Of course, we sympathize with Othello. We recognize that his predicament reflects our own. He must take responsibility for his actions on the basis of imperfect information and flawed understanding. Yet as much as we wish to put full blame on Othello’s nemesis, Iago, we are compelled to condemn Othello as well.

What to make of Iago? He frustrates our progressive sensibility because his is a pure and incomprehensible evil, and the progressive does not want to believe in pure evil. Every action has a cause. Evil comes from somewhere. It can be explained. Or so we tell ourselves. Iago’s realness – his completeness as a character — challenges the progressive, who cannot discard him no matter how hard she tries. Surely Iago must have just cause. So, without making a serious attempt to solve Iago, we call him a racist and leave it at that. If he has no clear personal motive for bringing down Othello, then he must just hate the Moor for his skin color and allegedly crude speech.

There is the rub. In an attempt to fit Iago to our conception of what it means to be rational animal, we write off his central human element. Inexplicable evil is as much a part of man as rational thought is. Our insistence on asking “why?” until an answer presents itself is as childish as it is noble.

Iago introduces metaphors — about race, falconry, and more — which come to form the basis of Othello’s understanding of events. Othello thinks his skin color is more important than it is, and thus makes it as important as Iago wants it to be. He regards race as though it were more than an observation. Thus, even in a fictional Renaissance-era Venice we can see echoes of contemporary American society. Race can and will only matter as much as we think it does. Until we understand this truth, we can never be “post-racial.”

When liberals talk about race, we often overlook the problems Othello reveals. Ascribing conditions solely to structural issues, we eliminate the possibility of individual agency. Even racism — which is, of course, cultural — is traced to economics and politics. Wealth disparities and rights disparities cause hatred and bigotry, we aver. Just as we seek to deny Iago’s humanity, we deny the psychological roots of racism.

Most of us do not really believe these things. Most of us acknowledge the reality of human error. A materialist — effectively Marxist — account of human affairs is intellectually unsatisfying. We would do well to explore this discomfort. We desperately need a smarter liberalism, one that accounts for human freedom and responsibility, is not afraid to acknowledge that culture matters, and can articulate an understanding of human nature which retains a sense of wonder, humility, and compassion. Luckily for us, an intellectual tradition which includes these elements already exists. It can be found in books like Othello. For the sake of the future, we should spend more time reading them.