Introduction
The human reality of each person is deeply tied to the experiences they have throughout their life. Thus, even the most difficult and uncomfortable situations have an impact on life. Now there are many situations in life in which we take part not directly, but as if we were spectators. Here we may raise the question whether we are also affected by these situations. Day to day experience gives an affirmative answer to this question, as we only have to think how news of a war or distant lands may disturb us, or how a son, a painting, or a book has the power to move us.
Long ago, the Roman playwright and poet Terence, said in one of his comedies: “Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto,” that is “I am human; I consider nothing human alien to me.” This phrase hides a profound anthropological reality. As we all share in the same human nature, every authentic human experience of someone else can speak to me. It is precisely this common nature what makes stories so profound. This is not only true of stories but also of aesthetic experience as a whole, as long as we open ourselves to it. In this sense Susanne K. Langer says:
A work of art is often a spontaneous expression of feeling, i.e., a symptom of the artist’s state of mind. If it represents human beings it is probably also a rendering of some sort of facial expression which suggests the feelings those beings are supposed to have. Moreover, it may be said to “express,” in another sense, the life of the society from which it stems, namely to indicate customs, dress, behavior, and to reflect confusion or decorum, violence or peace. And besides all these things it is sure to express the unconscious wishes and nightmares of its author. All these things may be found in museums and galleries if we choose to note them[1].
Each person is influenced by their emotions and feelings. Art is an aesthetic transformation of our feelings and experiences, ultimately impacting others, so art should not be alien to human nature. For this reason, our nature is inclined to seek art, as each person has this need to find order and meaning in their own life. Therefore, through this aesthetic experience, catharsis emerges as an anthropological reality that leads individuals to embrace suffering, fostering empathy toward the suffering of others as well as with one’s own.
So in this capstone I will focus on showing how catharsis in this aesthetic sense arises as an anthropological value. Therefore, in the first chapter, I will analyze how the concept of catharsis emerges from a classical perspective in the context of Greek tragedy. In the second chapter, I will examine how the concept of catharsis takes on a perspective that presents us with the paradox of finding order in chaos through Hegel’s thought. In the third chapter, we will go a step further to show how catharsis extends beyond tragedy in the context of literature. In this regard, the fourth chapter will be devoted to examining how the concept of catharsis also takes on the visual perspective of art in painting. Finally, the fifth chapter analyzes how catharsis also takes shape in music.
Chapter 1
Catharsis in the Context of Tragedy Classical Definition
In order to understand the concept of catharsis as an anthropological reality, it is necessary to go back to the classical origin of the word. Catharsis comes from the Greek etymological root katharos, meaning pure or clean and according to Aristotle’s Poetics is the emotional purification or purgation (cleansing) of the audience through witnessing a tragedy. Thus the concept of catharsis is tied to the concept of tragedy. In the same work, Aristotle defines tragedy as:
An imitation of an action that is admirable, complete and possesses magnitude; in language made pleasurable, each of its species separated in different parts; performed by actors, not through narration; effecting through pity and fear the purification of such emotions. (Book VI)[2].
Therefore, according to the classical understanding, a tragedy cannot be judged by its story or characters, but by its effect on the audience[3]. In this sense, the essence of a tragedy lies in the depth of its thinking, that is, the message behind each tragic story, where the viewer is able to contemplate realities that human nature itself does not want or desire. For example, no one wants or desires suffering, as it can become a tragic and painful experience, but the reality is that no one can escape pain or suffering.
An example that illustrates this classic definition of tragedy presented by Aristotle can be found in Aeschylus’s play Prometheus Bound. This tragedy recounts the punishment of the titan Prometheus for stealing divine fire (symbol of knowledge) and giving it to humanity. It strikes that the story begins with Prometheus chained to the abyss of a mountain in Scythia. Throughout the drama, Prometheus converses with gods and mortals, among them the tormented Io, while enduring his suffering with dignity and insisting on learning a secret that threatens Zeus’s power. In this tragedy then, Aeschylus invites his audience to feel pity for Prometheus. Unlike in many tragedies, Prometheus does not fall because of a mistake, but rather, he suffers for defying divine tyranny.
It is interesting how the meaning of the word catharsis has its origins in tragedy, since tragedy is the aesthetic art that represents human suffering. Christopher Caudwell, speaking about what tragedy is, says: ‘tragedy is not in itself tragic; it is beautiful, tender and satisfying – in the Aristotelian sense cathartic’[4]. Accordingly in Prometheus Bound, the audience is confronted with the reality of a suffering god who represents humanity and who is suffering for a just and greater cause. At the same time, his situation evokes a very human fear, as he attempts to understand the power of suffering that is beyond his control. This tragedy then brings us to a confrontation with our own fear before a suffering we cannot control, raising in us a cathartic experience. In this way, Prometheus Bound offers us a window for contemplating those sufferings that we embrace willingly for a greater cause. Prometheus himself says: ‘By helping mortals I drew suffering upon myself, and did so of my own will, freely[5].’ Moreover, Prometheus teaches us that there is a type of knowledge that comes from suffering either our own or vicariously experienced. Hence empathizing with the suffering of others, Prometheus in this case, becomes a cathartic transformation in which we can find order and meaning in chaos.
Accordingly, tragedy becomes an aesthetic reality that reveals the irony of human nature in finding order in chaos, that is, finding the value of life. As Louis Cowan says at the introduction of the book The Tragic Abyss:
In the Aristotelian view, the tragic actions result from a castigable blindness – hamartia, the same word Christians were later to use for sin – a myopia affecting the judgment and will of an otherwise predominantly virtuous leader. Further, a reversal of fortune and its consequent recognition brings about a counterpoint of pity and terror leading to an insight and affecting a catharsis, with a subsequent restoration of order[6].
Ultimately, it is this restoration of order that human beings seek in art, above all, a restoration of their emotions and feelings. By means of catharsis art opens us to the confrontation with these uncomfortable human realities. This raises a question that seems to challenge Aristotle’s definition of catharsis: How can there be order within the chaos of suffering? Terry Eagleton offers an answer:
The discrepancy between tragedy as art and tragedy as life is an ironic one. For most pieces of tragic art behave exactly as though tragedy were indeed a matter of actual experience, rather than some purely aesthetic phenomenon. As with any art or piece of language, there is that immanent in them which points beyond them. The deconstruction of art and life is known as art. While tragic theory insists for the most part upon one version of tragedy, tragic practice tends to illustrate another; and this incongruity, which runs back to Aristotle’s Poetics, is deep-seated and persistent enough to suggest that it constitutes a cultural problem or intellectual contradiction in its own right[7].
Aristotle’s definition is revealing in that it provides a solid foundation from which to begin reflecting on the meaning of catharsis. From him, we know that tragedy structures the aesthetic experience of finding order and meaning in human suffering—that is, the cathartic value of confronting suffering rather than denying it. However we are still left with some ambiguity. Is catharsis primarily an emotional release or an intellectual understanding of suffering? The next chapter will explore this ambiguity left to us by Aristotle in order to shed more light on the concept of catharsis. This clarity will be enlightened as we seek to explore in depth the paradox of order within chaos.
Chapter 2
The Paradox of Order in Chaos Hegel’s Theory of Tragedy
Since Aristotle left us with some ambiguity regarding the concept of catharsis, the next author who will help us better understand its meaning is the German philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770–1831). Similar to Aristotle, Hegel offers his understanding of catharsis by addressing the question of what a tragedy is; for him, tragedy is considered the highest aesthetic expression of dialectical conflict—that is, it is the most perfect way in which art can show us how the world truly works. In Hegel’s own words:
The original essence of tragedy consists then in the fact that within such a conflict each of the opposite sides, if taken by itself, has justification, while on the other hand each can establish the true and positive content of its own name and character only by negating and damaging the equally justified power of the other. Consequently, in its moral life, and because of it, each is nevertheless involved in guilt[8].
In Hegel’s thought tragedy is a conflict between two good ethical forces, each justified in itself, which come into collision; so tragedy is more than art, it goes beyond into a moral structure. In this sense, then, tragedy does not eliminate suffering, but rather makes it comprehensible to our understanding; thus, Hegel’s approach shows us that it is rooted in Aristotle’s thought, which emphasizes the value of catharsis when we confront the suffering of both others and ourselves; so what is important in tragedy, for Hegel, is not suffering as such—‘mere suffering’—but its causes[9].
As such, Hegel does not provide a definition of catharsis, but within his thinking on what a tragedy is, he shows that this is part of human experience, rather than being a purging of emotions as Aristotle believed, catharsis becomes a deep, intellectual, and spiritual reconciliation, so becoming an ethical harmony. Unlike Aristotle, Hegel’s view places greater emphasis on the characters in a tragedy, since it is the character who must decide between two ethical goods.
The clearest example Hegel uses is the Greek tragedy Antigone by Sophocles. The play tells the story of Antigone, the daughter of Oedipus, who defies King Creon’s order by burying her brother Polynices, who is considered a traitor for defying the throne. Her act, guided by familial piety and divine laws, pits her against authority and leads to a chain of tragedies. Sophocles thus explores a moral dilemma concerning civil obedience and individual conscience. In the end, Antigone decides to defy Creon by burying her brother, which leads to her arrest and confinement in a cave, where she ultimately takes her own life, thereby revealing Creon’s pride.
Using this tragedy as an example, Hegel demonstrates that Antigone’s conflict lies in choosing between two moral goods. The work conflict likely stems from the fact that whatever decision Antigone makes will have consequences. It will unleash chaos. Thus, the viewer is able to recognize and experience the pain of contradiction that comes with accepting suffering on both an emotional and intellectual level. Mark W. Roche, reflecting on this same idea regarding Hegel and a character’s conflict, says that catharsis, then, is for Hegel an act of recognition; tragedy gives us ethical insight into the untenability of one-sided positions[10]. The audience’s recognition of the characters’ inner conflict sheds light on human reality. Tragedy, thus, is an aesthetic reality that reveals the irony of human nature in finding order within chaos. By means of catharsis is in this paradox that human truth is limited and divided, for while tragedy is devastating, the audience gains greater clarity and understanding. In this way, Hegel’s thought becomes enlightening. It shows us that tragedy can shape experience and history into meaning, and the shock of meaning may have the power to transform us[11]. With this, we recognize that catharsis leads us to a deeper encounter with human reality in the face of suffering. So catharsis in this way is the experience that shapes our knowledge of the chaos of human suffering, changing our way of thinking from ignorance to recognition. Consequently tragedy is not the limit of catharsis. Since catharsis is rooted above all in man’s anthropological reality, in the human need to confront suffering emotionally and intellectually, so it must appear wherever human beings encounter suffering aesthetically.
Thus, the importance of suffering, according to Hegel’s thought, provides not only emotional but also intellectual clarity regarding what catharsis is. For this reason, the next chapter will discuss catharsis beyond tragedy. Well, as we know, suffering is not found only in tragedy, but also in various aesthetic forms. Thus, the following chapter will examine how the concept of catharsis manifests itself in the form most closely resembling tragedy, that is in literature.
Chapter 3
Catharsis in Literature Beyond Tragedy
The previous chapter established catharsis as an anthropological reality, a fundamental aspect of human nature through which each person can empathize with and confront suffering. In his book The Birth of Tragedy, the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900) shows how catharsis goes beyond tragedy. Nietzsche presents a dichotomy between two forces that create tension, the wisdom of recognizing suffering and the chaos of existence: the Apollonian (order, reason, beauty) and the Dionysian (chaos, excess, emotion). Although going into detail about Nietzsche’s thought is beyond the aim of this capstone: it is important to emphasize that his deepest argument does not really concern the genre of Greek tragedy, but rather art as a whole. For Nietzsche, the world is essentially unreadable, and ‘tragic knowledge’, which needs art to render tolerable its appalling insights, involves a grasp of the world’s meaninglessness[12]. Thus, the reconciliation between these two forces is where the concept of catharsis lies.
In this way, catharsis can emerge through all artistic forms wherever the tension between chaos and meaning is expressed aesthetically. Hence, the concept of catharsis is not limited to a single aesthetic genre, but rather to the function of art itself. Accordingly, this chapter will focus on how catharsis finds its expression in the art of literature.
As in the case of Greek Tragedy, we are drawn to literature because of the way it portrays the characters’ journey within a story. In this sense, as Langer says: literature is the realm in which language serves as the medium through which ideas are expressed verbally in a story, and for this reason literature is a standard of academic pursuit that lies in the very fact that one can treat it as something else than art. Since its normal material is language, and language is, after all, the medium of discourse, it is always possible to look at a literary work as an assertion of facts and opinions, that is, as a piece of discursive symbolism functioning in the usual communicative way[13]. So, the concept of catharsis finds its reason behind this art form.
Literature works as the space in which a story explores the human psyche in greater depth. Its value therefore lies in its literary aesthetics, that is, in the insight the reader can gain from a book. For whatever reason, the novel retains hope and bestows a power that enables the world to reclaim its instrumental and mediatory character[14]; in this case the emotional impact that brings about catharsis in the reader. So, we can understand that every literary work contains a tragic conflict. Literature, then, is always in some sense haunted by the tragic.
Therefore literature broadens our understanding of catharsis to encompass a more ethical dimension, in which the reader is able to find a point of empathy with suffering. For while catharsis finds its form and essence in tragedy, it is not limited to tragedy; literature conveys it through various forms. As Lucas puts it: tragedy for the ancients means serious drama, for the middle ages a story with an unhappy ending, and for moderns a drama with an unhappy ending[15]. Thus, literature has become what modern tragedy is for today’s society. In contrast to this idea, Raymond Williams states:
What is least imitable, in Greek tragedy, is the most unique result of this process: a particular dramatic form. And this is not an isolable aesthetic or technical achievement: it is deeply rooted in a precise structure of feeling. This is where the modern system most clearly misinterprets the plays. Having abstracted a general Necessity, it sets within and against it suffering individuals, summed up as the tragic hero[16].
I believe that by eliminating the experience of emotions, Williams fails to define what modern tragedy is, for if we eliminate emotions, the concept of catharsis loses its meaning. By removing catharsis shouldn’t there be emotion? From a story or literary novel, we fail to recognize that catharsis is not merely a characteristic of literary texts and works, but something that occurs within human beings, that is, catharsis as an anthropological reality.
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Among many literary authors, the Russian writer Fyodor Dostoevsky embodies the concept of catharsis perfectly, as his stories achieve catharsis when suffering is acknowledged rather than denied. In his book Crime and Punishment, catharsis occurs when the reader becomes immersed in Raskolnikov’s struggle to acknowledge his guilt, not as a spectator, but as a participant. In Crime and Punishment, Dostoevsky explores a conflict within the character of Raskolnikov. At the beginning of the novel, Raskolnikov commits murder while attempting to justify his own beliefs about “extraordinary man[17].” This act is not merely a crime, it represents a rupture of the moral and existential order of Raskolnikov. In this way, Dostoevsky reveals a profound aspect of human nature: transcendence. What is interesting here is that this idea of the extraordinary man weighs heavily on Raskolnikov’s conscience and morality, as the guilt of the crime he committed constantly haunts him. In this way, the novel takes us into Raskolnikov’s mind, which is a battlefield full of contradictions.
What is affectively at issue for Raskolnikov throughout Crime and Punishment is this tension between his general antipathy to human existence (especially his own) and his capacity to love and care, seemingly in spite of himself. This explains the internal conflict that persuades many readers to agree with an observation made by his friend Razumikhin when he says of Raskolnikov that “it is as if he had two separate personalities, each dominating him alternately[18].” Therefore, by understanding Raskolnikov’s inner conflict, we can feel empathy even for someone who has committed murder, and we can understand suffering in a different way.
Another prominent character in the book is Sonya, who serves as Raskolnikov’s counterpart. Unlike Raskolnikov, Sonya does not justify her suffering from an intellectual standpoint, but rather endures it with compassion and faith. Thus, she helps Raskolnikov confess to and come to terms with the murder of the two women. This moment occurs when the two are talking alone at Sonya’s house. At one point in the conversation, Raskolnikov asks Sonya to read him the biblical passage about the resurrection of Lazarus. This moment is key, as Raskolnikov realizes that he is dead inside, just like Sonya, since she makes a living through prostitution. What stands out here is that Sonya is able to see her suffering and Raskolnikov’s crime, but also both their own humanity. Then, this is a cathartic experience that leads to emotional and intellectual transformation, culminating in empathy and self-knowledge. Because through Sonya, catharsis takes on an ethical and relational character. So, suffering is transformed into meaning.
Therefore, Dostoevsky’s example leads us to see that literature, in the sense of the novel, rather than culminating in a single tragic climax or catharsis, unfolds gradually through inner struggle and reflection. In this way, novels transform intense human suffering into an aesthetic experience that compels readers to confront the meaning of suffering, interpret it, and ultimately accept it, thereby fostering a deep empathy toward others and toward oneself. But does this apply only to the art of literature? That is why the next chapter will discuss the concept of catharsis in the art of painting, which does not depend on a storyline.
Chapter 4
Catharsis in Painting Catharsis Detached from Storyline
After discussing catharsis in literature, we now turn to the art of painting. Painting is a powerful medium for catharsis, as it captures suffering in a visible and contemplative form. In this sense, we could say that catharsis is not determined by narrative development or language, rather, through it painting condenses the experience into a single image, that is, it condenses a personal value. So, catharsis arises because the viewer perceives meaning in a new aesthetic form.
In this regard, one could ask whether catharsis becomes detached from its tragic origins. Unlike tragedy, painting obviously lacks a narrative resolution, because there is no plot, no climax, and no release in time. However this does not mean that its tragic sense has been lost, but, on the contrary, painting reveals a new way in which catharsis functions. In fact, Glen Arbery says that ‘catharsis is about the knowledge that comes not from a knowledge of history – what actually happened – but from imitation – that which could happen and that we have already experienced emotionally[19].’
Ultimately, painting shows how catharsis is a constant human condition, a struggle that can drag on and intensify. Therefore, this artform is significant for understanding catharsis, since art is the creation of forms that symbolize human feelings[20], which symbolizes the human experience. Painting is the representation of the paradox of order within chaos, which is the representation of the inner self of man, which is tragic. Eagleton gives us an idea of how tragedy has not only artistic value but also human value. He says:
Tragedy can indeed be precious. No doubt we should hesitate before clamouring to live in a non-tragic society, since it may have discarded its sense of the tragic along with its sense of value. If there is no need for redemption, this may simply mean there is nothing worthwhile enough to be redeemed. Tragedy needs meaning and value if only to violate them. It disrupts the symmetry of our moral universe with its excess and inequity, but its power depends on a faith in that even-handedness. Otherwise words like ‘excess’ and ‘inequity’ would have no meaning. It makes no sense to claim that things are going badly if there could be no conception of their going well[21].
Catharsis thus embodies once again an anthropological value now represented in the painting, where the viewer is immediately confronted, so that there is no temporal distance, only presence. That is why the entire composition of a painting—its color and form—brings order to scenes of suffering, violence, or despair, evoking in the viewer a dual sense of recognizing the suffering depicted in a general sense, but also in a personal sense, where one sees one’s own fears and vulnerabilities reflected in the painting. Catharsis in this sense occurs when the viewer realizes that this suffering is neither foreign nor distant: it is human and, therefore, it is also mine.
The Great Day of His Wrath by John Martin
[22]Painting does not “separate” catharsis from tragedy, but rather reveals that catharsis was never limited to tragedy in the first place. To illustrate this, the example of the English painter John Martin (1789-1854) stands out for his dramatic artistry. In his work The Great Day of His Wrath, he transforms catastrophe into a structured vision, reflecting a tragic event as an aesthetic reality that reveals the irony of human nature in finding order within chaos. Thus, what appears to be a distancing in the painting is, in reality, a conceptual expansion: from a literary category to an anthropological reality. Speaking about the concept of the tragic, Eagleton says:
Nature is the ground of our valuing but thereby transcends it, as Nietzsche’s will to power is the transcendental source of all values but must therefore escape value-judgement itself. To be authentic, culture must immerse in the destructive element, acknowledge these things of darkness as its own, otherwise it will fall ill of the neurosis which springs from repression[23].
In this sense, when we view this idea through the lens of catharsis in Martin’s painting, it becomes clear that the chaos, violence, or anguish we see are not something foreign, but rather belong to the very reality of which we ourselves are a part. Eagleton insists that authentic culture must immerse itself in destruction rather than repress it, which is precisely what Martin does. Thus, catharsis is the opposite of repression: it is the process by which the individual integrates the destructive aspects of existence through form, rather than denying them. In other words, catharsis requires that we do not reject suffering outright, but instead engage with it.
It is widely believed that works of art, especially good works of art, can engender beliefs about the world and can, in turn, provide knowledge about the world[24]. In this case, the insight Martin offers us integrates the destructive aspects of existence through form. That is why, in this painting, the destructive force of nature stands out more than the small human figures, symbolizing the fragility and vulnerability of our humanity. Hence, the composition transforms chaos into a coherent visual whole. In doing so, the painting allows the viewer to confront suffering on both an emotional and intellectual level, recognizing it as part of the human condition. Therefore, in a sense, the painting redefines our understanding of the concept of catharsis by showing us that it does not arise from a rejection of suffering, but rather from its acceptance and transformation into a meaningful experience. Thus, this aesthetic experience leads us to the next chapter, which will explore how catharsis extends to the realm of music—an experience that is even more personal.
Chapter 5
Catharsis in Music Empathy without a visible subject
Finally, we turn to the art of music, which expands the concept of catharsis and takes it to a deeper and more personal level than has already been discussed. While all aesthetic composition is based on the foundation of an idea, a feeling, or an experience, music is no exception to this rule. Indeed the aesthetic value of a work is what is valuable for its own sake in the aesthetic experience the work affords to those who understand it based on such an understanding[25]. In this regard, music is one of the clearest examples of this idea because it doesn’t “mean” things in a straightforward way. Therefore, catharsis in music is not weaker than in tragedy, it is just non-narrative. Thus, the concept of catharsis in music takes a form in which the listener participates in a cathartic dynamic of tension and release.
Our understanding of catharsis could, like painting, come into conflict with the tragic notion of catharsis. How can music lead to “empathy” or “suffering” without a subject who suffers? It is at this point that the idea of catharsis becomes more personal, for while in tragedy suffering arises from a conflict that cannot be fully resolved, it is also true that, as Eagleton puts it: If tragedy ennobles suffering, then it only does so at the expense of truth, since most of the suffering in real life is, in fact, not ennobling[26]. In this way, catharsis in music becomes ennobling toward the truth, that is, toward the human truth that does not reject suffering but accepts it as a meaningful process that reflects the human search for order amid chaos.
Thus, in music, tragedy is not narrated but rather portrayed through the dynamic interplay between tension and form, causing catharsis to arise when the listener is immersed in this structured experience of suffering; consequently, catharsis is not a “relief” but rather the recognition of the meaning inherent in unresolved suffering. As Eagleton puts it:
Tragic art, on this theory, presupposes a tragic vision – a bleak view of the world, an absolute faith for which you are prepared to die, or at least a dominant ideology to be heroically resisted. Like almost every other general view of tragedy, this one identifies the entire mode with one kind of action, and then proceeds to write off whatever fails to conform to it[27].
Eagleton argues that the concept of the tragic cannot be confined to a notion of extremes, that is, it cannot be reduced solely to suffering. On the contrary, the understanding of the concept of catharsis opens up to the universality inherent in the way human beings respond to the structured tension of music, not to identical emotional reactions. In this sense, catharsis generates a way of confronting tension and suffering, not as a means of escaping it.
Symphony Fantastique by Hector Berlioz
A clear example is Hector Berlioz’s (1803-1869) Symphonie fantastique, as it helps us understand everything that has been said about catharsis in music. While it is true that, in the Aristotelian sense, this musical piece is not a tragedy, it does contain ideas that represent the composer’s intention to tell a story of obsession, suffering, and collapse. Thus, in this piece, Berlioz’s catharsis does not depend on dramatic form, but rather on an aesthetic experience of suffering through the structure of the music. The story behind this symphony goes that Berlioz was attending a performance of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, where he fell in love with the actress Harriet Constance Smithson, who played Ophelia. After this, Berlioz sent Constance numerous letters declaring his love, but she never replied. Over time, Berlioz later realized that Constance had had an affair with her manager, which left our composer deeply hurt.
That is why the first three movements of the symphony tell a love story, specifically, Berlioz’s love for Constance. What is interesting here is that Berlioz uses a recurring melodic theme that symbolizes the artist’s beloved, which he calls an idée fixe, that is, an idealized love. This theme appears in each of the piece’s five movements, but it unfolds differently in each one. That is why, in the Symphonie fantastique, catharsis unfolds as a temporal process in which suffering is initially idealized, only to later become destabilized, destroyed, and finally transformed in a grotesque manner.
Specifically, the fifth movement, The Witches’ Sabbath, stands out: the beloved theme (idée fixe) transforms into something grotesque, so that the listener encounters chaos, yet within an understandable artistic form, and finds meaning not by fleeing from suffering, but through an aesthetic engagement with it. A standout moment in this movement occurs when the Idée fixe theme begins to fade, giving way to the melody of the Dies Irae. In this sense, the meaning of love is not restored but rather distorted, though it remains recognizable, so that chaos reigns, yet the music retains its formal coherence. Thus, the music is able to convey the full intensity of a tragic experience without resorting to traditional tragedy. This is because tragedy must embody value; but it is odd, even so, that an art form which portrays human anguish and affliction should have been so often brandished as a weapon to combat a typically ‘modern’ pessimism and passivity[28]. So, catharsis is not tied to resolution, but to engagement with the transformation of suffering.
Conclusion
In his book The Power of Myth with Bill Moyers, Joseph Campbell says: One thing that comes out in myths, for example, is that at the bottom of the abyss comes the voice of salvation. The black moment is the moment when the real message of transformation is going to come. At the darkest moment comes the light[29]. Establishing the concept of catharsis as an anthropological reality reveals why human beings need tragic art. In this sense, art has a value that helps us appreciate the dignity of the human condition. In a cathartic sense, it helps us confront uncomfortable human realities, and the darkest moment of our existence. This is how we will come to value the life we have more deeply. Since the human condition is something we all share, art becomes a space for communion.
For this reason, catharsis is a fundamental value rooted in our human nature, which is why tragedy, music, literature, painting, and other arts continue to wield great power across cultures and throughout history. Catharsis demonstrates that human beings need not only pleasure or entertainment, but also meaningful encounters with suffering in order to grow as humans, that is, to grow in empathy. This is the irony of human nature, for we are all subject to suffering, in the sense that no one escapes this reality, and so our need for catharsis leads us to find order in both personal and collective chaos.
That is why catharsis is not an escape from suffering, but rather a mediated encounter with it. This means that catharsis is not merely a characteristic of art, but something deeply rooted in the structure of human experience. This in a sense suggests that becoming fully human requires passing through suffering, not avoiding it. Therefore, tragedy is not the limit of catharsis, but its origin and model.
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[1] Langer, S. K. K. (1963). Feeling and Form a Theory of Art Developed from Philosophy in a New Key, by Suzanne K. Langer. p. 25.
[2] Aristotle. (1996). Poetics. Penguin Books (Malcom Heath, Trans.). p. 10
[3] Cf. Arbery, G. C. (2003). The tragic abyss. Dallas Inst Humanities & Culture.
[4] Christopher Caudwell, Illusion and Reality (London, 1937), p. 297.
[5] Aeschylus. (2014). Prometheus Bound (Joel Agee, Trans.). New York Review Books.
[6] Arbery, G. C. (2003). The tragic abyss. Dallas Inst Humanities & Culture. p. 5.
[7] Eagleton, T. (2002). Sweet violence: The Idea of the Tragic. Wiley-Blackwell. p. 35.
[8] Hegel, G. W. F. (1998). Aesthetics: Volume 2 (T.M. Knox, Trans.). Clarendon Press. p. 1196.
[9] Cf. Williams, R. (2006). Modern Tragedy. Broadview Press. p. 28
[10] Bushnell, R. (Ed.). (2009). A companion to tragedy (By Mark W. Roche). John Wiley & Sons.
[11] Cf. Bushnell, R. (Ed.). (2009). A companion to tragedy. John Wiley & Sons.
[12] Cf. Eagleton, T. (2002). Sweet violence: The Idea of the Tragic. Wiley-Blackwell. p. 36.
[13] Cf. Langer, S. K. K. (1963). Feeling and Form. a Theory of Art Developed from Philosophy in a New Key, by Suzanne K. Langer. p. 226
[14] Arbery, G. C. (2003). The tragic abyss. Dallas Inst Humanities & Culture. p. 295
[15] F. L. Lucas, Serious Drama in Relation to Aristotle’s Poetics (London, 1966), p. 25.
[16] Williams, R. (2006). Modern Tragedy. Broadview Press. p. 6.
[17] This is how Dostoevsky puts the idea of the extraordinary men in Raskolnikov’s words: “In my opinion, all men can be divided into ordinary and extraordinary. The former must obey and have no right to break the law; the latter, on the other hand, have the right to commit all manner of crimes and to break the law in any way they please.” Dostoyevsky, F. (2015). Crime and Punishment (Penguin Classics Edition). Penguin.
[18] Guay, R. (2019). Dostoevsky’s crime and punishment: Philosophical Perspectives. p. 65
[19] Arbery, G. C. (2003). The tragic abyss. Dallas Inst Humanities & Culture. p. 37
[20] Cf. Langer, S. K. K. (1963). Feeling and Form. a Theory of Art Developed from Philosophy in a New Key, by Suzanne K. Langer. p. 58
[21] Eagleton, T. (2002). Sweet violence: The Idea of the Tragic. Wiley-Blackwell. p. 44.
[22] Martin, J. (1851–1853). The Great Day of His Wrath [Oil on canvas]. National Gallery of British Art, London, Reino Unido.
[23] Eagleton, T. (2002). Sweet violence: The Idea of the Tragic. Wiley-Blackwell. p. 243.
[24] Art and Epistemology | Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. (n.d.). https://iep.utm.edu/art-and-epistemology/
[25] Levinson, J. (2005). The Oxford Handbook of Aesthetics. Oxford University Press. p. 314.
[26] Eagleton, T. (2002). Sweet violence: The Idea of the Tragic. Wiley-Blackwell. p. 29.
[27] Eagleton, T. (2002). Sweet violence: The Idea of the Tragic. Wiley-Blackwell. p. 9.
[28] Eagleton, T. (2002). Sweet violence: The Idea of the Tragic. Wiley-Blackwell. p. 9.
[29] Campbell, J., & Moyers, B. (2011). The power of myth. Vintage. p. 37.
