Ulysses and the Cyclops

{This is a pre-publication from Rico Sneller, Into It: Perspectives on Synchronicity, Inspiration, and the Soul, Cambridge Scholars Publishing 2020}

Nobody

One may be reminded here of the infamous Cyclops Polyphemus, who was outsmarted by Ulysses in Homer’s Odyssey. The race of the Cyclopes was notorious for its brutality and inhospitality. Reminiscent of Max Picard’s description of Modernity in the previous chapter, one might say that, at least from the Cycloptic perspective, people “treffen aufeinander im Raume ohne Sinn, durch Zufall. Die Menschen sind darum fremd nebeneinander.”^[1] We will see shortly that Polyphemus is making a serious mistake by interpreting his meeting with Ulysses as Zufall, mere chance or coincidence.

In the Homeric narrative, Polyphemus had captured Ulysses and his comrades. He promises to swallow them one by one, Ulysses the last. On his turn, Ulysses had made Polyphemus believe that his proper name was Outis (= Nobody). He and his surviving friends finally manage to escape through using a ruse. After getting Polyphemus drunk, they drove a pointed stake into his single eye, thus making him blind. Rudely woken up in the middle of the night by Polyphemus’ shouting, his fellow Cyclopes call towards him: “‘What ails you, Polyphemus,’ they said, ‘that you make such a noise, breaking the stillness of the night, and preventing us from being able to sleep? Surely nobody [ἦ μή τίς] is carrying off your sheep? Surely nobody is trying to kill you either by craft or by force?’ [ἦ μή τίς σ᾽αὐτὸν κτείνει δόλῳ ἠὲ βίηφιν;]” (9, 403ff). It will soon become clear that, at least from the reader’s perspective, the Cyclopes are not so much asking as they are, rhetorically, begging the question. Their formulation (ἦ μή τίς: ‘surely nobody’) conceals the true answer to what, at first sight, seems to be a question. They do not seem to realise it, though.[2]

In a precipitate reply, Polyphemus cries: “Nobody is murdering me by craft. Force there is none. [Οὖτίς με κτείνει δόλῳ οὐδὲ βίηφιν]”. He erroneously assumed that ‘Nobody’ (Outis) was Ulysses’ real name. Whereupon his fellows exclaim: “If nobody harms you when you are left alone [εἰ μὲν δὴ μή τίς σε βιάζεται οἶον ἐόντα], illness which comes from mighty Zeus you cannot fly.” (Odyssey 9, 403f) In other words, they seem to think that their mate is suffering from mere illness, and appease him by suggesting that nothing can be done against God’s will.

Odysseus, the Master sufferer

The Greek is highly ambiguous here and hard to translate. Homer’s storyline is as it were interrupted by grammar. First and foremost, it addresses the readers or the listeners, and not so much the characters of the plot. If it addresses the story’s characters at all (that is, Polyphemus and the other Cyclopes), it primarily appeals to their unconscious. We will see that the essence of their communication takes place at a subliminal level. Consequently, the truth is and is not understood at the same time. Homer employs a highly sophisticated narrative strategy here which serves my overall intention in the present chapter: to account for acausal yet subliminal suffering, the nature of which is nihilistic and inane. As a matter of fact, the very name Odysseus itself derives from the Greek word ὀδύνη/odunè, which means ‘suffering’ or ‘pain’. The Odyssey repeatedly mentions Ulysses’ misery with emphasis, for example when Ulysses kneels down for the King and Queen of the Phaeacians to tell his story (“in my distress [πολλὰ μογήσας] I humbly pray you”, “I have been long in trouble [πήματα πάσχω: ‘I suffered sufferings’] and away from my friends”; 8, 147.152). Ulysses even sees himself as belonging to “the most afflicted [μάλιστ᾽ ὀχέοντας ὀιζὺν ἀνθρώπων τοῖσίν κεν ἐν ἄλγεσιν ἰσωσαίμην: ‘I would equate myself to those pain-suffering humans who are among the most afflicted’].” And he continues saying: “Indeed, were I to tell you all that heaven has seen fit to lay upon me [μᾶλλον … κακὰ: ‘more evils’], you would say that I was still worse off [μόγησα: ‘suffered’] than they are.” (7, 211ff) Ulysses is a master sufferer, who is overwhelmed by misery and pain. He is suffering in the deepest layers of his soul (ἐνὶ φρεσὶ πένθος ἔχοντα and πένθος μὲν ἔχω φρεσίν; 7, 218f).[3]

But Odysseus, he who suffers deep down in his soul, is also Outis. As Outis is believed to be a proper name while it is generally an impersonal pronoun (‘nobody’), already the Cyclops’ answer is equivocal (though neither to himself nor to his fellows but only to readers of Homer’s Odyssey). As an alternative to the translation rendered above, one could read both “nobody is murdering me either by craft/deceit or by force”[4], and “Nobody is murdering me by craft/deceit, and not by force.” The first meaning is tacitly assumed by the other Cyclopes; they convince themselves that there is nothing wrong. The second meaning corresponds to Polyphemus’ intentions; the Cyclops yells that the unknown stranger, by far inferior to him in strength and (therefore?) calling himself Outis, had maliciously deceived him. The Cyclopes interpret οὐδὲ/oude as a conjunction (‘nor’), and as immediately consecutive upon the negation implied in the Greek word Οὖτίς, ‘no-body… either by… or by…’. Instead, Polyphemus intends οὐδὲ/oude to express a disjunction: he laments that he is murdered by craft rather than by force. Thereby, he involuntarily admits that despite being strong (which is the case), he is also stupid (which is even more true). His stupidity is increased, not only by the fact that he had Ulysses get him drunk but first and foremost by his failure to realise that Οὖτίς (Nobody) is not a proper name at all, so that his call for help is headed off from the outset.

Unconscious awareness I

Remarkably, his fellows’ reply repeats their initial question (“Surely nobody [ἦ μή τίς] is carrying off your sheep? Surely nobody [ἦ μή τίς] is trying to kill you either by craft or by force?’”). Therefore, it cannot fail to undeceive Polyphemus immediately, both about them misunderstanding his explanation, and, not to mention, Ulysses having misled him in the first place. Again, resorting to the Greek is indispensable. Εἰ μὲν δὴ μή τίς σε βιάζεται (‘if, then, nobody harms you’) re-uses the prohibitive particle μή/mè (μή τίς/mè tis – no body, nobody) rather than the mere negative particle οὐ which one would expect (as Polyphemus does, cf Οὖτίς/Outis). It is not so much the syntactic nature of this alternative particle of negation (μή instead of οὐ) but the combination μή τίς (‘no body’) which makes sense here, since it is almost homophone with μῆτις/mêtis – which means ‘craft’ or ‘cunning’. Remember that Ulysses is often called πολύμητις/polymètis (‘rich in cunning or craft’) in the Odyssey. The Greek word μῆτις/mêtis is synonymous to δόλος/dolos, the word that the other Cyclopes first used and that Polyphemus took over in his reply (Οὖτίς με κτείνει δόλῳ, ‘nobody is murdering me by craft/deceit’).

The fellow Cyclopes’ subsequent answer εἰ μὲν δὴ μή τίς σε βιάζεται (‘if, then, nobody harms you’) reveals at least two things. It not only enlightens Polyphemus that his fellows had misinterpreted him; what is more, it reveals that the Cyclopes may unknowingly have understood the ‘cause’ of his suffering better than he himself had, for there is none. Provided that he has ears that can truly hear, Polyphemus may only now realise the real meaning of Οὖτίς: ‘no body’. He is invited to see that the cause of his suffering is empty and void, tohu wavohu[5], or inane (“‘Meaningless! Meaningless!’ [hevēl hevalim: ‘vanity of vanities’], says the Teacher. ‘Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless [hakkol hèvèl]’, cf. Ecclesiastes I, 1-2). Clearly, at a conscious level, Polyphemus’ fellows are equally misled; they overhear what they are already revealing spontaneously, viz., that cunning or craft (μῆτις) are at stake. In this perspective, Polyphemus is fully right when he screams that Οὖτίς με κτείνει δόλῳ: ‘Nobody is murdering me by craft’; or, in other words, that ‘I am being killed by deceit through Nobody’s hands’ – which eventually comes down to ‘I am not killed at all’, or even to ‘I am not being killed at all’. ‘Nobody can(not) kill me, not even suffering’. As said, this is true since Polyphemus is neither killed nor being killed. It is only that a stake is driven into his unique eye. True, at this point one could insist that Ulysses is not just a nobody, even if he calls himself Outis. This does not take away, however, that Ulysses does not kill him, even though he, the Sufferer, makes Polyphemus suffer, too.[6] Deception is lethal only for those who believe it is. Despite himself, Polyphemus denies that he is (being) killed. Not even by craft, cunning or deception (δόλῳ).

Unconscious awareness II

So far, I have pictured the non-origin of suffering through analysing Polyphemus’ words as an unconscious soliloquy. But it can also be addressed from another angle, i.e., of unconscious communication. In the context of my overall discussion of the unconscious in this chapter, it is interesting to note that the Cyclops unconsciously perpetuates his mates’ evoking μῆτις/mêtis (‘craft’) by using the synonymous word δόλος/dolos. Equally unconsciously, the fellow Cyclopes conceal the term while simultaneously alluding to it with the words μή τίς/mè tis (‘nobody’). I would like to underline that the essence of their mutual communication seems to take place at a wholly unconscious level; it can only be consciously grasped by the reader of the Greek text.

Involuntarily – or even non-voluntarily –, Polyphemus’ mates disillusion him about the ultimate cause of his suffering. They do two things at once: 1) they reveal the ‘real’ meaning of Outis (= nobody); 2) they comfort him regarding the non-lethal nature of deception (δόλος, μῆτις). But they do this unconsciously. In light of Polyphemus’ stupidity, it is not even sure that he understands the message. Similarly, it is not sure, either, that they understand the gist of their own words. It is up to the students of the Odyssey – us – to interpret the unconsciously transmitted message: the origin of suffering is unidentifiable since rooting in sheer nothingness.

By equating this nothingness with what I have earlier called a ‘void’, I intend to avoid the Scylla of its objectification (‘Evil’ as an independent force) and the Charybdis of the privatio boni doctrine; the former can be associated with Manichaean or Zoroastrian dualism, the latter with the Neo-Platonic and Augustinian traditions. While Polyphemus seems to represent a Manichaean position (he attributes both substantiality and causality to the origin of his misery), his fellow Cyclopes rather resemble Augustinians (they exile suffering from their ontology and trivialise its meaning). In fact, they are all deceived, both Polyphemus and his mates. Their monoculism is telling in this respect.

Non-violence

There is one final thing which I would like to point out here. Regarding my earlier claim that ‘suffering’ presupposes an interpenetration of subject and object beyond boundaries, it is crucial that both Polyphemus and his fellows admit that there is no violence at play. “Violence or force there is none” (οὐδὲ), Polyphemus says, and his mates reply: “If, then, nobody harms you”, etc. (Εἰ μὲν δὴ μή τίς σε βιάζεται). The words βίηφιν/bièphin (‘through force, violence’) and βιάζεται/biazetai (‘violates’) are cognate. They derive from βίη/biè, ‘force’, ‘violence’. Polyphemus tells he is not violated, despite having been penetrated (sic) by a stake. Or, more precisely, he pathetically laments that he is being killed by Nobody’s cunning (Οὖτίς με κτείνει δόλῳ), and not by his force or violence (οὐδὲ βίηφιν). He is being killed without there being force at (the) stake: Ulysses’ stake used cunning, no violence. I have already pointed out that, in fact, Polyphemus is not being killed at all since nobody kills him. Had there really been any force/βίη, he would not have been capable of lamenting in the first place: “La force,” Simone Weil writes in an essay on the Iliad, “c’est ce qui fait de quiconque lui est soumis une chose.” And she continues stating that, “quand elle s’exerce jusqu’au bout […], elle en fait un cadavre.”[7] If there is force at all, it should be associated with the Cyclops himself. Earlier in the narrative, after the Cyclops had brutally swallowed two of Ulysses’ comrades, it is said that “As for us, we wept and lifted up our hands to heaven on seeing such a horrid sight [σχέτλια ἔργ᾽, ‘cruel works’], for we did not know what else to do [ἀμηχανίη δ᾽ ἔχε θυμόν: ‘despair captured our mind’] (9, 295).” The Cycloptic job is to paralyse its spectators and make them helpless (ἀμηχανίη).

Yet, the Cyclops himself cannot be adequately dealt with by force (οὐδὲ βίηφιν); only cunning or craft (δόλῳ) can domesticate him. The fellow Cyclopes, who do not even believe that craft can outsmart their race, try to tranquillise Polyphemus. Why shout out loud? they say, “since (εἰ μὲν δὴ) nobody violates you (μή τίς σε βιάζεται)”, or since it is mere deceitful cunning which is (at) (the) stake! Not even mentioning that you are alone (οἶον ἐόντα). What else could it be that bothers you but an illness or a disease? This must be simply accepted. “Illness [νοῦσον] which comes from mighty Zeus you cannot fly [ἀλέασθαι].” It is as if they suggest that such illness will affect one expressly when alone, for it is not a (concrete) thing or object that could be escaped. 

In line with Theresa of Avila’s account discussed above, one might suggest that the illness they attribute to their mate coincides with guerra y trabajos y fatigas: (inner) ‘struggle’, ‘suffering’, and ‘fatigue’. Indeed, if not Polyphemus already (prognostically) suffered from these inner diseases – sent by “mighty Zeus” –, he will at least have plenty of time to suffer from them after Ulysses’ escape, when he will again be sitting alone on his beach in his solitary recluse; this time, however, complaining about the predicted misfortune that had finally come true.

“On this he groaned, and cried out, ‘Alas, alas [ὢ πόποι, ἦ μάλα δή], then the old prophecy [παλαίφατα θέσφαθ᾽] about me is coming true. There was a seer [μάντις] here, at one time, a man both brave and of great stature, Telemos son of Eurymos, who was an excellent seer [μαντοσύνῃ ἐκέκαστο], and did all the prophesying [μαντευόμενος] for the Cyclopes till he grew old; he told me that all this would happen to me [τελευτήσεσθαι] some day, and said I should lose my sight [ἁμαρτήσεσθαι ὀπωπῆς] by the hand of Odysseus. I have been all along expecting some one of imposing presence and superhuman strength [φῶτα μέγαν καὶ καλὸν], whereas he turns out to be a little insignificant weakling [ὀλίγος τε καὶ οὐτιδανὸς καὶ ἄκικυς], who has managed to blind my eye by taking advantage of me in my drink”. (9, 407ff)

It seems as if the following words from Max Picard, already quoted in the previous chapter, particularly address Polyphemus. What is more, in light of Homer’s description of the Cyclopes, they suggest that the Cycloptic lifestyle is not just mythical. The Cyclops narrative in the Odyssey may give a picture of modern lifestyles.  

“Im Raum allein, im Raum ohne die Zeit, vermag sich das Wesen des Menschen nicht deutlich zu machen. Der Mensch braucht die Zeit. Der Mensch ist in den Raum gestellt, ja – aber der Sinn dieser Stellung wird erst durch die Zeit erkannt. Der Mensch entfaltet sich im Raum durch die Zeit, und dies, dass einer sich entfaltet im Raume durch die Zeit, dies ist die Bahn des Menschen.

“Da heute keine Zeit mehr ist, so ist auch keine Bahn mehr, und die Menschen begegnen einander nicht mehr geführt vom Gesetze der Bahn, – sie treffen aufeinander im Raume ohne Sinn, durch Zufall. Die Menschen sind darum fremd nebeneinander.”^[8]

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[1] Das Menschengesicht, p. 158f.

[2] Interestingly, the particle ἦ which opens their exclamation can both be interrogative and declarative. The Cyclopes seem to intend asking a question but, from the reader’s perspective, their question could just as well be rhetorical. Could it also be that the mere phoneme ἦ already hints at μῆτις/mêtis: ‘craft’, ‘cunning’?

[3] ὀιζύς, ἄλγος, κακόν, etc are synonymous terms. Also cf “It would be a long [ἀργαλέον: painful] story […] were I to relate in full the tale of my misfortunes [κήδε᾽], for the hand of heaven has been laid heavy upon me.” (7, 242). Several times, Ulysses is called πολύτλας, ‘much-enduring’ (7, 344; 8, 199), and his story is αἰσχυνόμενός, ‘terrible’ (7, 305). He may temporarily forget what he has suffered (ἐκ δέ με πάντων ληθάνει ὅσσ᾽ ἔπαθον), and longs to return homeward after having suffered so much (καί περ πολλὰ παθόντα). (7, 218ff).

[4] οὐδὲ (‘nor’) will then be consecutive upon the negation implied by Οὖτίς (‘nobody’): ‘neither…nor’.

[5] Cf Genesis I, 2; or Irrsal und Wirrsal, as Buber/Rosenzweig translate these Hebrew words. This German translation might theoretically make sense when applied to Οὖτίς the way I introduce it in the context of this chapter, i.e., as an attempt to specify the (non-)origin of innate suffering. Polyphemus is confused (verwirrt) about Οὖτίς, who had made him err (irren) about his identity while revealing it to him (Οὖτίς, μῆτις).

[6] Κύκλωψ δὲ στενάχων τε καὶ ὠδίνων ὀδύνῃσι: “the Cyclops, groaning and in an agony of pain”. (9, 415) As already mentioned, ὀδύνη is cognate with ‘Odysseus’.

[7] Simone Weil (1999), L’Iliade ou le poème de la force, 1940-1941, in: Œuvres. Paris: Gallimard, p. 529.

[8] Max Picard, Das Menschengesicht, p. 158f.