philoSOPHIA

Men, though they must die, are not born in order to die but in order to begin.

—Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition

In Judith Butler’s book Antigone’s Claim, “promiscuous obedience” is the proposed response to a world constituted by “unwritten laws, aberrant transmissions” (Butler 2000). The worldly condition of “unwritten laws, aberrant transmissions” names an aspect of Antigone’s situation unmentioned by Sina Kramer in her essay on Butler’s New Humanism: the curse. Antigone mourns and desires under the sign of a curse that consigns her forever to a desire that will be unrequited, and a mourning that will never achieve what we now call closure.

What is the curse identified by Butler? In Oedipus at Colonus, Oedipus says to his daughters (speaking about himself), “From none did you have love more than from this man, without whom you will now spend the remainder of your life” (Trans. H. Lloyd-Jones 1994, 1617–19, qtd. in Butler 2000, 60). It certainly sounds like a curse! But what sort of a curse? ¹

Focusing on Antigone, Butler says Oedipus’s “words . . . demand that for all time she have no man except for the man who is dead . . . this is a demand, [End Page 41] a curse, made by Oedipus, who positions himself as her only one” (60). But what Butler calls the curse is actually, or at least also, Oedipus’s statement of gratitude and debt. If Oedipus places himself in a relationship of exclusivity with his daughters, he does so because of the singularity of his debt to them at the time of his death. Here is the longer passage (from a different translation): “My children, on this day your father no longer exists. Now I have perished utterly, and no longer will you bear the burden of tending me, which was no light one, I well know, my children. Yet just one word turns all those toils to nothing, you have been treated as friends by no one more than by this man; and now you will have me with you no longer, through all your days to come” (Trans. R. C. Jebb 1889, 1612–19).²

Although Oedipus seems to gift his daughters with freedom when he claims that “no longer will [they] bear the burden of tending” to their father, he also tethers his daughters to himself forever when he says his gratitude to his daughters is so immense that no one will ever love them like he does: they have been, and likely will always be, loved best and most (“treated as friends”) “by no one more than by this man,” their dead father, for all their “days to come” (in the R. C. Jebb translation) or for “the remainder of your life” (in the H. Lloyd-Jones translation). Whether as a statement of love or friendship (the translations vary), the speech both thanks and curses, pressing on us awareness of the intimate closeness of those two speech acts in a way that recalls Derrida’s analysis of the undecidability of the gift (Derrida 1995, 97).

For Butler, the speech is a cursed command that Antigone should never love another as much as she loves her father. “His words . . . demand that for all time she have no man except for the man who is dead, and though this is a demand, a curse, made by Oedipus, who positions himself as her only one, it is clear that she both honors and disobeys this curse as she displaces her life for her father onto her brother” (60). But Oedipus says something a bit different: no one will ever love Antigone as much as he now does. On the one reading he dooms her to be forever unloving; on the other, unlovable or, simply, unloved.

Antigone will love, however, and so, since Butler assumes the curse is that Antigone should not love, Butler sees Antigone’s love for her dead brother as a way to both carry and transgress the curse under which she operates. Loving a dead man is Antigone’s promiscuously obedient way to obey and subvert...