Lansky, M.R. (2005). The Impossibility of Forgiveness: Shame Fantasies as Instigators of Vengefulness in Euripides' Medea. J. Amer. Psychoanal. Assn., 53:437-464.

The Impossibility of Forgiveness: Shame Fantasies as Instigators of Vengefulness in Euripides' MedeaMelvin R. LanskyUnforgivability in Euripides'Medeais explored in the context of intrapsychic forces favoring disruption and narcissistic withdrawal and precluding the influence of forces favoring repair of bonds, not necessarily to the betrayer, but to the social and moral order. The forces underlying disruption and withdrawal operate to such an extent that forgiveness and cooperation with the social order become impossible. Euripides' literary insights are explored with the purpose of deepening and extending the psychoanalytic understanding ofshame,shamefantasies, projectiveidentification, and vengefulness as they bear on the problem of forgiveness. Three types ofshamefantasyare pertinent to thetransformationof Medea's mental state from one of anguished and disjointedshameto diabolical vengefulness: anticipatory paranoidshame, the projectiveidentificationofshame, and withdrawal as adefenseagainstshame.Let's make us medicines of our great revenge To cure this deadly grief.MACBETH, IV.iii.214-215The problem of unforgivability in Euripides'Medeacan profitably be explored in the context of the struggle between, on the one hand, intrapsychic forces favoring disruption and narcissistic withdrawal and, on theother, forces favoring the repair of bonds to the social and moral order such that forgiveness and some cooperation become possible. The problem of disruption and repair has been a continuing themeSubmitted for publication May 25, 2004.-437-in my studies onsuicide,envy, forgiveness, and related phenomena. Here I will consider the struggle between disruption (as figured in Medea's rejection by Jason and her banishment from Corinth) and repair (in this case, its psychological impossibility) as the struggle betweenunconsciousforces pushing toward cooperation and bindingto the social order and those pushing toward disconnection, unbinding, withdrawal, or destruction.1In a series of writings (Lansky1996,1997,2001,2003a) I have explored the struggles between forces ofbindingand of unbinding of relationships to the social order as favoring disconnection and narcissistic withdrawal if theshamefelt consciously or anticipated in cooperating with betrayers is experienced asunbearable (Lansky 1997;Morrison and Lansky 1999) and favoring reattachment and repair ifshamecan become bearable (Lansky2001,2003a).The plot of Euripides' play reveals Medea's unfolding humiliation andhelplessnessin the face of her circumstances. Her disorganization and anguish propel her toward vengefulness that results in her murdering the king and princess of Corinth, and finally her own two sons. Ten years before the play begins, Medea had helped the Greek hero Jason escape from Colchis, even though that had meant killing her own brother. Jason and Medea escaped together and eventually settled in Corinth, married, and had two sons. The play opens shortly after Medea has learned that Jason intends to leave her and marry the daughter of Creon, the Corinthian king, Medea's devastation and rage are such that Creon, frightened for his and his daughter's safety, orders Medea and her sons into immediate exile. Medea successfully pleads for a one-day stay of the order. Though she and her children have been promised asylum in Athens by the Athenian king, Aegeus, she sends the children to the princess bearing a gift of poisoned garments. Both the princess and Creon die from the deadly poison. Medea then murders her two sons and, as the play closes, taunts the devastated Jason, refusing him the right to bury his children. She leaves in a dragon-drawn chariot sent by her grandfather, the sun god Helios. She is headed to Athens, where asylum has been guaranteed her by Aegeus in exchange for potions that will help him have children.1Of these two forces,Freud (1940)wrote, We have decided to assume theexistenceof only two basicinstincts,Erosand thedestructive instinct. The aim of the first of these basic instinctsis to establish ever greater unities and to preserve them thusin short to bind together; the aim of the second is, on the contrary, to undo connections and so to destroy things (p.148).-438-I draw upon theMedeato discuss thephenomenologyofshamepredicaments andunconsciousshameconflicts that escalate to the point of generating a prepossessing vengefulness. That vengefulness defends against Medea's awareness of herunbearablepowerlessness andshame, and also avoids the emotional burden of mourningfor what is lost when she isrejectedby Jason. My argument depends on inferences aboutshamethat often is not consciously felt.Shametherefore refers here not simply to the overtaffectbut also to compromise formations and defenses against the awareness of futureshamearising from the circumstances of her betrayal by Jason, her diminishment in social status and security, herhelplessness, and thelossof her husband to a rival. It is Medea's judgment infantasythat hershameis unbearablethat drives her down the vengeful path to filicide and murder of the king and his daughter.In Euripides' play, the unbearableness of Medea'sshameis seen to arise not simply from her humiliating circumstances, however overwhelming. Only under the sway of herunconsciousshamefantasies is her anticipatedshamefelt to beunbearable. It isunbearablebecause it cannot achieve resolution, as can less overpowering experiences of betrayal, bymourningand carrying on with life in the context of secure bonds with intimates.ByunbearableshameI refer not simply to the experience of painfulaffect, but to a morecomplexdynamicinvolvingsignal anxietyand processing through unconsciousshamefantasies. In later sections I will argue that thecomplexof associations and fantasies instigated by theaffectofshame, or by the prospect of experiencing that affect (signal anxietyanticipatingshame, or signalshame), isunbearablein large part because it is felt be the result of deliberate attempts by others to humiliate her (paranoidshame) and to signal something like socialannihilationand irreversible disgrace. I contend that this paranoidshamefantasyinstigates the projectiveidentificationwhereby Medea's vengeful murders function to inject herhelplessness, powerlessness, and despair into Jason. This deployment of projective identificationoccurs within the workings of a secondshamefantasy, that ofbeingwithin a fused dyad with her husband: Medea is convinced that by vengefully relocating herunbearableanguish to Jason, she has actually solved the problem posed by hershame. This is an important dimension ofshamedynamics in addition to the usual Kleinian formulation of the mechanism of projectiveidentification, which more often than is-439-usually realized is instigated unconsciously by actual or anticipatedshameand serves to ridthe selfinfantasyof thatshameby relocating it to its presumed source. A thirdshamefantasy, one involvingomnipotence, is symbolized at the conclusion of the play.Theseshamedynamics shed light on the problem of forgiveness, the letting go of resentment, grudge, and hatred to the extent that the betrayed person can mourn what has been lost and carry on with life. The topic of forgiveness, ignored completely in the psychoanalytic literature until recently, has in the last few years received noticeable attention (Lansky2001,2003a;Akhtar 2002;Smith 2002; Cavell 2002;Siassi 2004). TheMedeais not concerned directly with forgiveness, but Euripides' explication of Jason's absolute unforgivability in Medea's mind allows me to use the text to further my exploration of forgiveness in the context of disruption and repair.In studies of Shakespeare'sThe Tempestand Sophocles'Philoctetes(Lansky2001,2003a), in both of which forgiveness is achievable, I have stressed that unbearableshamemust be rendered bearable before forgiveness can take place. I have considered the dynamics of forgiveness as involving first the letting go of mental states of unforgiveness (resentment, hatred, spite, vengefulness,narcissistic rage, blame, withdrawal, and bearing grudges) and then the gaining of a capacity to tolerate the psychic burdens that attend that letting go:shame,mourning,lossofomnipotenceand of a sense of self-sufficiency, and the task of revising one's assumptions about the nature of relationships.In bothThe TempestandPhiloctetes,high-ranking people are betrayed by intimates from their own social class: inThe Tempest,Prospero is betrayed by his brother; inPhiloctetes,the eponymous hero is marooned by leaders of the Greek army. In each of these dramas, the play begins years after the protagonist has been stranded on a lonely island. Thisisolationsignifies the narcissistic withdrawal that follows rejection and betrayal. As the plot of each play develops, the protagonist is to overcome a grudge sufficiently to cooperate with the social order as he rejoins it. In neither case, however, are affectionate bonds with the betrayer restored. Nor do we see in either case the kind of sublime forgiveness exemplified by Jesus on the cross or Joseph with his brothers. In these plays, the protagonist attains the capacity for cooperation, but not therestorationof a loving bond. Nonetheless, atransformationis effected from a state of withdrawal to rapprochement with the social order.-440-By contrast, in theMedeathe inability to forgive is pushed to its extreme. Medea's state of unforgiveness takes the form of vengefulness and spite. The impediment to letting gotheworking throughof her deep hurt andshame, we would say if the context were clinicalof those states of mind in favor of some sort of cooperationis her anticipation ofunbearableshame. I do not presume that Medea's goal should be to forgive, in the usual sense of the word, or to reestablish a loving bond with Jason after his betrayal; I say only that her tragedy consists of her inability to let go of her state of humiliated vengefulness, the cost of which is her children's lives and her connection tosociety. Here Euripides affords us insights into the dynamics underlying an utter incapacity to put aside grudges and resentfulness and to cooperate in the interests of one's childrena process akin to forgiveness in its weakest sense.By inability to forgive, then, I am referring to the intrapsychic underpinnings of Medea's inability to establish not a loving bond with the betraying Jason, but simply a cooperative enough bond with him to ensure the well-beingof her children and preserve a connection to the Corinthian community. But Medea'sshameand vengefulness preclude this option that would save herself and her children. Her relationships with every member of the social orderJason, the princess, the King, the entire Corinthian communityare so tinged with anticipatory fantasies ofunbearableshamethat she is relentlessly propelled toward her course of diabolical vengefulness, spite, and murder. The relevance of my consideration of the play to the overall problem of unforgivability is distinctly limited. It concerns only the context of felt unforgivability of a husband who hasrejectedand abandoned his wifea context resonating with the situation surrounding many marital breakups, especially when children are involved.My intent here is twofold: first, to provide an exegesis of the play through an understanding ofthe unconsciousmechanisms involved in thetransformationfrom Medea's initial state of mind to her eventual state of relentless vengefulness; second, to use Euripides' insights to provide apictureof thephenomenologyof vengefulness that takes into accountshameconflict, paranoidshamefantasies, the escalation ofconflict, and the instigation of projectiveidentification. Following Edmund Wilson (1929)in his discussion ofPhiloctetes,I am considering the poet to be naturalist. I am using a literary, not a clinical, example. Though my exposition illustrates a thesis concerning the centrality ofshamedynamics and fantasies in the dynamics of vengefulness, the use-441-of the play to explore that thesis is not intended to demonstrate its clinical validity. One is always at risk in discussingthe unconsciousdynamics of a fictionalcharacter. I do not regard Euripides' insights as supplying the equivalent of clinical evidence, but rather as offering a profound explication of theconsciousandunconscious phenomenologyof vengefulness. This is as useful to the psychoanalytic clinician as are the observations of one type of naturalist to another. Another limitation of this study is that I am using a translation of the text, not the original, and am abstracting from the context of the play, perhaps with unwarranted assumptions about ancient Greek conceptions of revenge,shame, and forgiveness.Critical Responses to the PlaySince ancient times, a striking discrepancy has existed between the theatrical impact of theMedeaand the serious questions and doubts that critics have had about it. The play is one of the most overpowering theatrical experiences in all of dramatic literature. What we know of the mythological sources of the story seems to suggest that Medea's murder of her sons is an element added by Euripides (Simon 1988;Nugent 1993; cf.Michelini 1989).Criticism of the dramaturgy of the play begins withAristotle (c. 330 B.C.E.), who severely criticizes both the coincidental arrival of Aegeus (chap. 25 p. 73) and the conclusion, in which Medea departs, magically taken up from the scene ofactionin a chariot drawn by two dragons (chap. 15, p. 52).Kitto (1939)points out that Aristotle is presupposing a dramaturgy of the Sophoclean type, one very different from that of Euripides. Aristotle's criticisms will be dealt with later; suffice it to say here that I disagree that Euripides' dramaturgy is flawed. Modern critics, for their part, have questioned the dramatic and literary credibility of Medea's filicide, some regarding it as simple melodrama, with the implication that it is both dramatically and psychologically not credible (see, e.g.,Easterling 1977;Galis 1992).It is important to clarify what sort ofbeingEuripides' Medea is. Her grandfather, as I have mentioned, was the sun god Helios. In many versions of the Medea legend, she is a sorceress, and even in Euripides' version she retains powers of sorcery. YetKnox (1977)argues convincingly that in that version, despite those powers and despite her grandfather'sinterventiondeus ex machina at the denouement, Medea-442-is fundamentally a humanbeing. She is not, however, Greek. She is a foreignwoman, one who betrayed herfatherand killed her brother to assist Jason. Her psychological makeup, therefore, is that of an exile.Nugent (1993)has pointed out that the designation of Medea as an exiledwomanis actually a redundancy, since married women in theGreeceof Euripides were basically exiles fromsociety, in that they were isolated from contact outside their husband's home and denied access to politicalactivity.Inotherplays, Euripides uses a deity to personify a force ofhuman nature, a force which if denied results in the downfall of the tragic protagonist at the hands of the offended god. Examples include thedenialof Aphrodite (the force of eroticlove) by Hippolytus in the play of the same name, and thedenialof Dionysus (the force of Dionysian frenzy perhaps, we would now say, ofthe unconscious) by Pentheus inThe Bacchae.Knox (1977)makes the fascinating point that Medea, in her vengeful state, embodies a virtually godlike force, that of vengefulness, and becomes, dramaturgically, akin to an offended deity,denialof whose force is tragically disastrous. Medea qua force of humiliated vengefulness is a force ofhuman natureakin to that of a deity. Although I agree with the point, it appears to apply to how othercharacters experience Medea's vengeful fury, not to the intrapsychicpsychodynamicsof that vengefulness, which is my subject here.A great deal has been made of thetransformationof Medea's agonized mental state at the beginning of the play to her diabolically vengeful state after her encounter with Aegeus, but none of the criticism by classicists that I have read takes herdepth psychologyinto consideration. Many critics (e.g.,Rehm 1989;Gabriel 1992;Foley 1989) following Knox have seen Medea as transformed basically into a Homeric hero, one not unlike Sophocles' Ajax, who relentlessly pursues vengeance in obedience to a code of valor that obliges her to help friends and harm enemies. Gabriel has stressed that Jason, in forsaking Medea for the princess, has broken not simply a personal vow, but the formal bond of honor before the gods to remain loyal to a spouse. Medea, as her mental state changes, evolves from an anguished and helpless female supplicant before Creon and Jason into a masculinized avenger likened to such epic heroes as Ajax. Feminist critics (Foley1988,1989;Gabriel 1992) have pointed to this phenomenon as the de-feminization of Medea, who, lacking the societally mandated protection of a male kinsman, became her own masculine, or at least defeminized,-443-champion. The pronounced tendency of criticism by classicists is to emphasize either the context of the times or issues involvinggender, but not the enduring psychological insights conveyed by the playwright. Much of this criticism seems to share the assumption that vengefulness and revenge are masculine attributes alone and to overlook the seemingly obvious consideration that vengefulness in both men and women can be understood as a psychological phenomenon with its own dynamics. In all of these writings on Medea's change of mental state from anguish andhelplessnessto diabolical vengefulness, one notes the strikingabsenceof any consideration of the extent to which the play captures, in its horrifying extreme, enduring aspects ofhuman nature, that is to say, thepsychodynamicsofshame, spite, and vengefulness.Nor to myknowledgehave psychoanalytic writings on theMedeatreated the play in terms ofshame, vengefulness, and spite.Balter (1969), in studying the myths of Oedipus, Perseus, and Jason, draws from the work of Arlow to highlight themotheras the source of power. He discusses the Medea myth in general, not Euripides' Medeain particular, and discusses her as essentially amotherfigure for Jason, one who is offended when he leaves her to marry the Corinthian princess.Shengold (1999)has taken up the malignant and deadly giving of gifts in the larger context of soul murder.Simon (1988), perhaps the most significant psychoanalytic writer on Greek tragedy in English, notes relatively greater complexity of relationships between parents and children in Euripides as compared to those in Aeschylus and Sophocles. Simon notes Euripides' use of essentially epic narration to assail epic poetry and epic values. He also notes thetransformationby which Medea, the one who has been traumatized, identifies with the aggressor and turns the tables by traumatizing her children and her husband. Wurmser (1981, p. 263), the preeminent psychoanalytic writer on the dynamics ofshame, who also writes extensively on literary topics, sees Medea'sshameas greatly amplified by Jason'sshame-lessnesshis scurrilous treatment of herand his utter disregard for her self-respect.The Pain of Attachment: Circumstantial Sources of Medea's ShameMedea'sshameescalates rapidly, episode by episode, as she endures rejection,lossof status, and pity. As the play begins, we learn of-444-Medea's plight from the nurse, who describes her mistress's agony, desolation, and wish for death, and who fears she will take desperateaction. Medea is heard weeping from the house, disconsolate and abject, hidden.When finally she emerges from the house, she encounters the chorus of Corinthian women, to whom she herself declares her desolation, sense of betrayal, and wish for death. Because she regards her marriage as her entireexistence, she is devastated, heridentitydissolved. Jason's betrayal has left her absolutely homeless.When Medea is in the house, she feels harmed; when she emerges and encountersotherpeople, she feels wronged and humiliated (Herbert Morris, personal communication). To some extent her plight is understandable because it is women's plight in general, and she can talk to the chorus of women in the belief that she is the way they are and can be understood by them:A man, when he's tired of the company in his home,Goes out of the house and puts an end to hisboredomAnd turns to a friend or companion of his own age.But we are forced to keep our eye on one alone.What they say of us is that we have a peaceful timeLiving at home while they do the fighting in war.How wrong they are! I would much rather standThree times in front of battle than bear onechild.[Euripides 431 B.C.E., ll. 244-251]But her more specific circumstances lend themselves particularly toshameandhelplessness. She is a foreigner unwelcome in her native land:Yet, what applies to me does not apply to you.You have a country. Your family home is here.You enjoy life and the company of your friends.But I am deserted, a refugee, thought nothing ofBy my husbandsomething he won in a foreign land.I have nomotheror brother, nor anyrelationWith whom I can take refuge in this sea of woe.[ll. 252-258]-445-Creon then arrives. He fears her anger and vengefulness and resolves to banish her, thereby severing her ties to the social order. When she pleads not to be exiled, he relents to the extent of giving her one last day in Corinth. Medea's already great humiliation is increased when she perceives that Creon, rather than feeling any compassion for her, dehumanizes her in fearing her anger and vengefulness:I am afraid of youwhy should I dissemble it?Afraid you may injure my daughter mortally.Many things accumulate to support my feelingYou are a cleverwoman, versed in evil arts,And are angry at having lost your husband'slove.I hear that you are threatening, so they tell me,To do something against my daughter and JasonAnd me too. I shall take my precautions first.[ll. 282-289]Creon, like Jason, fears an upsetwoman. He seems to have noconcernfor the fact that, banished, Medea will have no meaningful social bonds and no power. Unlike Prospero and Philoctetes, who retain a degree of power (Prospero his staff and book, Philoctetes, Heracles bow and arrows), Medea is left powerless, helpless, and bereft of a sense of self. Creon's banishment of her has deepened her sense of humiliation and propelled her toward a vengefulness that serves to restore a sense of herself:By exiling me, he has given me this one dayTo stay here, and in this I will make dead bodiesOf three of my enemiesfather, thegirl, and my husband.[ll. 373-375]In part, Medea is so helpless because she is the betrayer betrayed. She has destroyed ties to her native Colchis because she has betrayed her own family and country for Jason's sake. The text gives us no sense of whether Medea suffersguiltfor her betrayals or whether thisguilt, if present, enters the dynamics of her anguish.She next encounters Jason, who berates her for her rage and her threats. He is a thoroughly unsympatheticcharacter, admitting no fault or basis for hurt or anger in his abandonment of her. The forthcoming marriage, he proclaims, is to the advantage of her and the children, since-446-it promotes an alliance with Creon. Medea, further humiliated by Jason's failure to acknowledge his betrayal, and by hiscontemptfor her upset state of mind, protests:Where am I to go? To myfather's?Him I betrayed and his land when I came with you?To Pelias' wretched daughters? What a fine welcomeThey would prepare for me who murdered theirfather!For this is mypositionhated by my friendsAt home, I have, in kindness to you, made enemiesOf others whom there was no need to have injured.And how happy among Greek women you have made meOn your side for all this! A distinguished husbandI havefor breaking promises. When in miseryI am cast out of the land and go into exile,Quite without friends and all alone with my children,That will be a fineshamefor the new-wedded groom,For his children to wander as beggars and she who saved him.[ll. 501-515]After these encounters with Creon and Jason, she is left with a sense both ofbeingfeared and ofbeingthe object of pity andcontempt, which further amplifies her shame.The Unbearable Shame of Attachment to One's BetrayerThe next encounter, a coincidental occurrence criticized by Aristotle for precisely that reason, introduces the hope that Medea will be offered a way out of her predicament. Aegeus, King of Athens, visits her. He is married, but childless. Medea offers to help his marriage become fertile, using herknowledgeof potions, and asks for his protection; Aegeus offers her asylum in Athens, but only if she can get there on her own: if you reach my landI,beingin my rights, will try to befriend you,But this much I must warn you of beforehand.I shall not agree to take you out of this country;But if you by yourself can reach my house, then youShall stay there in safety. To none will I give you up-447-But from this land you must make your escape yourself,For I do not wish to incur blame from my friends.[ll. 723-730]Aegeus stresses that he will give her protection, but not in such a way as to make him appear complicit in her leaving Corinth. These lines contain a significant ambiguitythat is not resolved in the text. They are usually understood to be a guarantee of safety for Medea only (see, e.g.,Nugent 1993). That is, Medea would be offered asylum without her children and would have to leave them with Jason, or at least in Corinth. However, the children too have been banished. Creon says to Medea at the outset of his interaction with her:You, with that angrylook, so set against your husband,Medea, I order you to leave my territoriesAn exile, and take along with you your two children.[ll. 271-274]The text does not seem to me to point to any imperative by Aegeus that Medea leave her children, but only to his need to avoid complicity in her relocation itself (see Simon1988, p. 92). Medea's later deliberations make clear that she is given the opportunity to take her children with her:Do not, O my heart, you must not do these things!Poor heart, let them go, have pity upon the children.If they live with you in Athens they will cheer you.[ll. 1056-1058]If we presume that the offer of asylum to Medea includes asylum for her children, a much darker view of Medea's nature and of her enduringattachmentto Jason emerges, one much more congruent with the overall psychological thrust of the play. With the presumption of asylum, we as audience breathe a sigh of relief: there is a way out for her and the children. All of the principal characters can be bound to their progeny and the next generation can continue. Medea can use her craft to help Aegeus have offspring, Medea will have her sons, and Jason, children by his new bride. But, dashing our hopes, Medea will instead choose a diabolically vengeful course. The full extent of this course, which will cut her off from the social and moral order, emerges.-448-First she will kill Creon and his daughter with poisoned gifts. Then, instead of killing Jason:I weep to think of what a deed I have to doNext after that; for I shall kill my own children.And when I have ruined the whole of Jason's house,I shall leave the land and flee from the murder of myDear children.[ll. 791-795]If we are to assume, then, that Medea is offered asylum with her children, we are faced with another problem that requires explanation. We knew very early in the play that she had thoughts of such vengeful murder, since she told the chorus part of her plan to kill Jason, Creon, and Creon's daughter. But theideaof killing her children emerges only now as an explicit part of her plan, where earlier she had expressed it only in a disorganized, emotional manner. We must wonder: was it in fact planned from the start? If so, what is the dramaturgic and psychological point of the encounters with Jason, Creon, and Aegeus? These episodes may simply reflect subterfuges used by Medea to disarm her enemies and further her implementation of a set plan. Although her purpose is stated before the episodes in question, I see them as depicting more than simple stratagems. I see them as reflecting Medea's not yet expired hopes of repairing her situation ofunbearableshameby eliciting compassion from Jason and pardon from her sentence of banishment. These hopes of ameliorating hershameall fail, adding substance to afantasythat then summates into a murderous plan ofaction. The Aegeus episode and its promise of escape formotherand childrencausea previously concealed source ofshameto emerge: Medea is faced with the fact that she cannot, in her state of mind at themoment, emotionally separate from Jason. I will turn to that source ofshamein the next section.I am arguing that, though Medea's vengefulthoughts and intentionsprecede the encounters in the first part of the play, her mountingshame, disconnection from the social order, and attendantshamefantasies, together with her already devalued status, serve to coalesce these revenge fantasies into a distinctplan of action.Her mental state changes. Now under the sway of the forces disrupting her bonds to the social and moral order, her state of mind is transformed: she is diabolically vengeful and absolutely sure of herself. Although states of uncertainty,shame,-449-and agony break through on occasion, her vengeful state steadfastly defends against the experience of those disorganized and agonized states of mind.This line ofthinkingthat her more or less indistinct plans for revenge are transformed into a specific plan ofactionrequires that we consider theinstigationof such atransformationand theprocessesby which it is accomplished.Unconscious Shame Conflicts: Instigators of Medea's Transformation to the DiabolicalVengefulness is so intuitive to all of us as spectators or readers of theMedeathat, however horrified, we are likely to be so empathically gripped by Medea's vengeful state of mind as to lose sight of the underlyingshamedynamics that shape the fundamental insanitythe irreducible horror of the playthat fuels her vengeful project. I want in particular to draw attention to the fulcrum of the turn to vengefulness from a disorganized and humiliated state; here is the essence of a shame-rage cycle, the instigation of rage byconsciousorunconsciousshame. Suchshame-rage cycles (Lewis 1971; Scheff1987,1990;Lansky 1992) are found in some of the greatest masterpieces of world literature: theIliad, Moby Dick, Richard III, Paradise Lost, and Balzac'sCousin Betteare but a few.After the encounter with Aegeus offers hope that Medea will choose to separate from Jason and Corinth, will take her sons and leave in safety, her truly dark side emerges. Why just now? In response to what? It is important to pose the question: Is the vengeful destructiveness that ensues a mere unfolding of Medea's basic nature that was there all the time, or has it been crystallized somehow by something specific in the Aegeus episode? Even though Medea has clearly entertained these thoughts previously, I opt for the latter. She changes after the episode from awomandevastated and desperately clinging to what is left of her attachments to the social and familial order, to one determined to destroy the princess, the king, and her own children.I speculate that at thismoment, just when everything seems to point to Medea's relocation to Athens, she is faced with a finalshame-pro-ducingrealizationthat plunges her into the diabolical pursuit of destruction and revenge: she is too attached to Jason to separate. She is-450-not able to take the children and leave for Athens. She still loves him, and is ashamed of it. (Fiona Shaw's portrayal of this aspect of Medea in a recent production dramatized this point magnificently.) Absent this line ofthinking, the dramatic progression of the play makes no psychological sense.This understandingthat she now finds herself so fused with Jason, so attached to him, that no matter the extent of hisarroganceand indignities toward her, she cannot take the opportunity to leaveleads us to therealizationthat her humiliation has becomeutterlyunbearable. Medea's shocking turn to vengefulness, despite the fact that she has just been given the opportunity to take her children and leave Corinth, is the dramatic fulcrum of the play, and is instigated by Medea's awareness of her deep intrapsychicfusionwith Jason. Now she faces an impossibly humiliating predicament: she cannot separate from Jason or the social order, nor can she cooperate with either without experiencing trulyunbearableshame.For this reason I disagree with Aristotle's criticism(c. 330 B.C.E.)of the Aegeus episode: Irrationality [is] rightly censured when there is no need for [it] and [it] is not properly used, as no good use is made of the irrationality of Euripides' introduction of Aegeus inMedea (p. 73). Ironically, the episode, by providing the possibility of escape for Medea and her children, brings forward the hitherto concealedimpossibilityof her leaving.At Corinth, we must presume, she would have had to endure the comparison of her new status with her previous one:rejectedolderwomanrather than cherished wife; unwelcome foreigner rather than honored citizen by marriage. The acceptance of this diminution in status would requiremourninginvolving not simply painful emotion, but also deepshame. Her anticipation of these emotional burdens (signal anxiety) works against her capacity to connect to the social order and propels her further toward diabolical vengeance.Euripides' sense ofthe unconsciouspathways involved in the crystallization of her vengefulness, put forward explicitly in the text, is astonishing. Vengefulness and spite are the cardinal features of theMedea.To understand this fully, it is necessary to consider the instigation of rage byshame, and to distinguish various types of shameexperience in the play: signalshame,shamepredicaments, shaming transactions, andshamefantasies. Medea's revenge, which involves the completion of plans revealed early in the play, is in fact instigated-451-by the cumulative shock and escalating impact of the actual experiences as they combine with hershamefantasies.There is in the psychoanalytic literature a dearth of attention to the problem of instigation. Instigators are discussed frequently, but, with the exception of Freud's very brief discussion ofdreaminstigation in chapter 7 ofThe Interpretation of Dreams(1900, pp.651-653), very little on the intrapsychic process of instigation per se appears in our literature (Lansky2003b,2004).Instigation marks the articulation of the intrapsychic with theexternal world. Failure to take the dynamics of instigation into account leaves us with an impoverished and constricted understanding ofconflictand its escalation. Medea's narcissistic equilibrium is disrupted by her general circumstances, by the shaming transactions we see in the play, and by her processing ofshamethrough paranoid fantasies. I have taken up the circumstances in Medea's predicament that give rise to hershameand have pointed to various shaming transactions early in the play. At this point, I will turn to theshamefantasies that summate into theunbearableshame that triggers Medea's relentless vengefulness.Three Types of Shame FantasyI use the termshame fantasyto stress that Medea'sshamedynamics, like those of vengeful persons generally, involve not simply an experience ofaffect(shameas emotion), but aregressionand anunconsciousanticipation orinterpretationof thatshameexperience inrelationto significant persons with whom they are intrapsychically bonded. In theMedea,three distinct types offantasyare operative: anticipatory paranoidshame;shamerelocated infantasyinto theotherby projective identification; andshamedefended against by omnipotent withdrawal from the social order.Anticipatory Paranoid ShameMedea's firstshamefantasyis that hershameis evidence of the deliberate intention of others to humiliate her. What begins as Medea's situationalshamebecomes her anticipatory paranoidshame. She is convinced she will be mocked by the community, and theshameaccompanying this conviction makes the prospect of staying in Corinth with her children and cooperating with Jasonunbearable. After Creon's visit she declares:-452-I have many ways of death which I might suit to them,And do not know, friends, which one to take in hand;Whether to set fire underneath their bridal mansion,Or sharpen a sword and thrust it into the heart,Stealing into the palace where the bed is made.There is just one obstacle to this. If I am caughtBreaking into the house and scheming against it,I shall die, and give my enemies cause for laughter.[ll. 376-384; emphasis added]And again she urges herself onward to revenge:Go forward to the dreadful act. The test has comeFor resolution. You see how you are treated.NeverShall you be mocked by Jason's Corinthian wedding.[ll. 403-405; emphasis added]The first of Medea'sshamefantasies to unfold in the play, then, is that hershame, because it results from the deliberate, ongoing intent of the Corinthian community to mock her, isunbearable(see Kitto1939, p. 195; Simon1988, p. 82). Elsewhere I have pointed to similar paranoidshamefantasies in Sophocles'Ajax (Lansky 1996)andPhiloctetes(Lansky 2003a).Knox (1966),writingof the fifth-century Athenian view of the heroiccultureof yet earlier times, notes that fear of the mockery of others was a hallmark of the heroic ethos and that it was therefore natural for Euripides to impute to his protagonist this general cultural trait of the period in which his play is set. I would go further, though, and make the intrapsychic point that Medea has, in response to the burden of her overwhelmingshame, regressed to a paranoid state in which she imagines not simply that her enemies, Jason and Creon, will mock her, but that the entire Corinthian communitynot, in actuality, her enemieswill do so as well. Thisfantasyis, of course, buttressed by the fact that she is foreign and awoman.The firstfantasy, then, transforms her felt or anticipatedshame, the emotion, into paranoidshame, which is herinterpretationof that emotion as resulting from the deliberate intention of her betrayers and the entire community toshameher, to mock her, to humiliate her. It is this paranoidtransformationof her initialshamethat makes itunbearableand that makes the amelioration of her situation through cooperation with the Corinthian community a prospect that cannot be borne.-453-Medea agrees, then, to leave with Aegeus, only to discover that at some fundamental level she cannot. She is fused with Jason and cannot separate. At this point she announces her intent to kill the children after slaying the princess and Creon:I weep to think of what a deed I have to doNext after that; for I shall kill my own children.My children, there is none who can give them safety.And when I have ruined the whole of Jason's house,I shall leave the land and flee from the murder of myDear children, and I shall have done a dreadful deed.For it is not bearable to be mocked by enemies.So it must happen.[ll. 791-798; emphasis added]For those children he had from me he will neverSee alive again, nor will he on his new brideBeget anotherchild, for she is to be forcedTo die a most terrible death by these, my poisons.Let no one think me a weak one, or feeble-spiritedA stay-at-home, but rather just the oppositeOne who can hurt my enemies and help my friends;For the lives of such persons are most remembered[ll. 804-810; emphasis added]Because of the unbearability of her paranoidshame, she cannot do otherwise than kill her children.After sending Jason off with the children, who are bearing the poisoned garments for Creon's daughter, she starts to relent, but her paranoidshamefantasiesdrive her back to her vengeful resolve:I cannot bear to do it. I renounce my plansI had before. I'll take my children away fromThis land. Why should I hurt theirfatherwith the painThey feel and suffer twice as much of pain myself?No, no, I will not do it. I renounce my plans.Ah, what is wrong with me? Do I want to let goMy enemies unhurt and be laughed at for it?I must face this thing. Oh, but what a weak womanEven to admit to my mind these soft arguments.[ll. 1044-1052; emphasis added]-454-If they live with you in Athens they will cheer you.No! By Hell's avenging furies it shall not beThis shall never be, that I should suffer my childrenTo be the prey of my enemies' insolence.[ll. 1058-1061; emphasis added]One might, considering thisphenomenologyfrom the Kleinian point of view,lookupon Medea as having regressed to theparanoid-schizoid position. Doing so would point to the usefulness of an expansion of that concept to include the relationship between instigatoryshamedynamics and what in this case is the specifically humiliating nature of the fantasied persecution: mockery and humiliation, notannihilation.Projective Identification of ShameMedea fantasizes that she can escape her overwhelmingshameby vengefully putting her state of mind into Jason, with whom she is psychologically fused.Shame can be transformed by projectiveidentificationand felt to reside in the shamer.It is of note that although murdering Jason would be an intelligible and, to many, a justifiable act of revenge, certainly when compared to killing her children, Medea has, with the exception of one fleeting remarkI will make dead bodies / Of father, thegirl, and my husband (ll. 375-375)voiced no interest in killing him. She is only able, in her vengefulshamefantasy, to fuse with Jason and relocate herhelplessnessand desolation into him in a regressed, vengeful dyad.Simon (1988)notes that it is as if the two are intertwined in some murderous wrestling match, not entwined as husband and wife in procreative sex or in complementary efforts on behalf of children (p. 93). Such fantasies offusionare involved in fantasies of revenge generally. Therealizationthat she cannot separate from Jason triggers her destructiveness and the diabolical need to take revenge on him by destroying his bride-to-be, the king to whom he was to be allied by marriage, and his sons. These acts of vengeance work not by destroying or injuring his person, but by relocating from herself to Jason, infantasy, thehelplessness, humiliation, disconnection from the social and familial, and utter despair that have been Medea's state of mind.Thisfantasyof relocation and induction of her desperate, humiliated, and hopeless mental state into Jason is an instance of projectiveidentification. I use the term fantasybecause, though she does in actuality-455-induce this state of mind in Jason, she is at some level convinced that its induction effects a riddance of that state in herself. It is not simply an induction of her state of mind into Jason, but a turning of the tables on the relationship of shamer to shamed. Only when she regresses to the point ofthinkingthat the entire emotional content of her mind exists within the fused dyad with Jason can she feel with conviction that if she can induce in him her humiliation andhelplessnessshe will be rid of them. Imagining herself without connection to the social or the familial, she can indeed, by killing princess, king, and her own children, impart those feelings and states of mind to Jason, but it is only in her regressed and paranoidshamefantasythat she can imagine that by doing so she rids herself of them.Preparatory to arguing for a widened perspective on the concept of projectiveidentification, one that takesshamefantasies andshamedynamics into account, I want to underscore the curious fact thatshameand its dynamics are overlooked in virtually the entire Kleinian canon. They receive no mention, for example, in the works ofKlein (1975),Bion (1977),Segal (1964),Rosenfeld (1965), orJoseph (1989). But thephenomenologyof Medea's revenge in the Euripidean text points us to an expansion of the concept, one verifiable in countless clinical situations. The Kleinian notion, which allows no part forshamedynamics, is summarized by Hinshelwood (1989):Projectiveidentificationwas defined by Klein in 1946 as the prototype of the aggressive object-relationship, representing ananalattack on an object by means of forcingparts of the egointo it in order to take over its contents or to control it and occurring in theparanoid-schizoid positionfrom birth. It is a phantasyremote fromconsciousness that entails a belief in certain aspects ofthe selfbeinglocated elsewhere, with a consequentdepletionand weakened sense of self andidentity, to the extent ofdepersonalization; profound feelings ofbeinglost or a sense of imprisonment may result.In 1957, Klein suggested thatenvywas deeply implicated in projectiveidentification, which then represents the forced entry into another person in order to destroy their best attributes. Shortly afterwards Bion distinguished a normal form of projectiveidentificationfrom a pathological one, and others have elaborated thisgroupof many distinct yet relatedprocesses. The further understanding of projectiveidentificationhas been the major area subsequently developed by Kleinians [p. 179].-456-The Kleinian school seem consistently to ignore the role ofshamedynamics in the instigation of many of the phenomena their central concepts capture and to treat humiliation as though it was simply a phenomenon consequent onaggressivityin a persecutoryother, rather than also a source ofshameinthe self. I have discussed this omission in my work on the instigation ofenvy(Lansky 1997;Morrison and Lansky 1999). Yet the clinical examples presented by Kleinian writers often show how the dynamics ofshametrigger projectiveidentification. What is missing in Kleinian writings onenvyis therealizationthatshameconsequent on self-conscious comparison instigatesenvy, which in turn instigates maneuvers to deal, however pathologically and destructively, with thatshame.Envy, the attack on theotherfor possessing attributes more lovable and overflowing (and hence, on comparison, moreshame-producing) than are felt to exist inthe self, is a case in point. Thus, shameful comparison instigatesenvy. I propose extending that line ofthinkingto include projectiveidentificationas a mechanism often, though not exclusively, deployed to reverse the circumstances generatingshame. I will argue in future publications that Kleinians have become trapped in their theoretical view ofaggressionas a bedrock manifestation of thedestructive instinct; despite numerous clinical vignettes in Kleinian writings suggesting the role of shamedynamics, they have overlooked those dynamics entirely. Their emphasis onaggressivity, and consequentguiltor feelings of persecution, glosses over significant features of thephenomenologyof projectiveidentificationrelated to the dynamics ofshame. Kleinian formulations regardingenvy, projectiveidentification, and theparanoid-schizoid positionare not so much incorrect as incomplete; they neglectshameconflicts as instigators of the aggressive components of the clinical phenomenology.My expanded use of the termprojective identificationis more attuned than is the Kleinian usage to the function of that mechanism as a method for handling the burden of anticipatedunbearableshame. Projectiveidentificationis instigated by the awareness,consciousorunconscious, of imminent or actualshame. An important function of projectiveidentification, though by no means the only one, is that it is a mechanism that can infantasyrelocate one'sshameand pain to theother, in the consciousorunconsciousconviction that this will rid one of the problem. This aspect of projectiveidentificationconsists, then, of a reversal, a turning of the tables, a reversal instigated by an incipient-457-or actual experience ofshame. Puttingshameinto the shamer is a common defensive maneuver and a significantcomponentof vengefulness.The awareness of one's deployment of projectiveidentificationis itself a source ofshame. By the very fact that theotheris felt to be so exalted, theotherbecomes a consummately significant person. That turning the tables on Jason through an overpowering act of spite will leave him helpless and humiliated is of paramount importance to Medea, more important than her freedom and the lives of her sons. At some level ofconsciousness, this is a source of addedshame.Envyis very difficult to interpret(Etchegoyan, Benito, and Rabih 1987). This is so, I believe, because exposure, to oneself or to others, of one's use ofenvyto adjust one's narcissistic equilibrium (with or without projectiveidentification) is itself a source ofshame.Medea's deployment of projectiveidentificationmarks a departure from theunbearablepain of continued humiliatedattachmentto the social order; forces favoring disattachment now hold sway, prompting her triumphant, vengeful, and murderous attacks on the princess and Creon, and on her two sons. In the final scene she evokes shamefantasies that reveal the injection of desolation into Jason as more important than her children's lives. Medea admonishes Jason from her chariot above thestage: it was not to be that you should scorn mylove,And pleasantly live your life through, laughing at me;Nor would the princess, nor he who offered the match,Creon,driveme away without paying for it.[ll. 1354-1358]A bitter dialogue ensues that reveals the relationship between her feeling ofbeingmocked and her vengefulness.Jason:You feel the pain myself. You share my sorrow.Medea:Yes, and mygriefisgainwhen you cannot mock it.Jason:O children, what a wickedmothershe was to you!Medea:But it was your insolence and your virgin wedding.Jason:And just for the sake of that you chose to kill them.Medea:Isloveso small a pain, do you think, for awoman?Jason:For a wise one, certainly. But you are wholly evil.Medea:The children are dead, I say this to make you suffer.[ll. 1361-1370]-458-He is left desolate. The state of mind that Medea cannot tolerate grieving, helpless, humiliated, hopelesshas been relocated to Jason:Jason:Oh, Ihateyou, murderess of children.Medea:Go to your palace. Bury your bride.Jason:I go, with two children to mourn for.Medea:Not yet do you feel it. Wait for the future.Jason:Oh, children I loved!Medea:I loved them, you did not.Jason:You loved them, and killed them.Medea: To make you feel pain.[ll. 1393-1398; emphasis added]Omnipotent Withdrawal from the Social OrderEuripides concludes the play with Medea departing Corinth in her chariot with the corpses of her sons, while a helpless Jason pleads for the opportunity to bury them. All of the half-dozen or so productions of the play I have seen have deleted this ending. One might consider the magical aspects of the ending a deus ex machina resolution that allows the play to come to an end, but such aninterpretationdoes not ring true thematically with thebodyof the play.Aristotle (c. 330 B.C.E.)holds that the unraveling of the plot should arise from the circumstances of the plot itself, and not be brought aboutex machina, as is done in theMedea. Thedeus ex machinashould be used only for matters outside the play proper, either for things that happened before it and that cannot be known by the human characters, or for things that are yet to come and that require to be foretold prophetically (p.52). I take strong issue with such a reading of the play's ending.What superficially appears to be no more than a deus ex machina ending is, in terms of the psychological unity of the play, far more than an ad hoc resolution of the play'saction. I see the final scene as a profound and preciserepresentationof Medea's state of mentalomnipotence, her belief infantasythat she can place herself above it all, simply leave Jason desolate, and thereby solve the problem posed by hershame. What some see as unsatisfactory and sloppy dramaturgy, an exit from above in a chariot pulled by dragons, is in my view an omnipotent severing of all ties to Jason and the community. Through the vehicle of her defenses against unbearableshame, Medea herself stages a circumstance in which she feels liberated from painfulattachmentandunbearablemental anguish.-459-This dramatic conclusion exemplifies the thirdshamefantasyI wish to address: having projected hershame,helplessness, and desolation into Jason, Medea is able to depart easily from the social order and from Jason in a state of self-sufficient omnipotent completeness, leaving her distressing mental states with him.She can, in thisfantasyexpressed metaphorically by her departure in the chariot, solve the problem of herunbearableshamebefore Jason and the Corinthian community. This is an omnipotentfantasy, going beyond the secondshamefantasy, that offusionwith Jason, operative while she is in hispresence. In this third fantasy, she can leave chaos, humiliation, and despair with him and depart in a triumphant state of mind. Her departure and the omnipotent state it signifies leaves us in a state of horror. This is so, even though we have little compassion for Jason. We are horrified at the vengeful regicide and the filicide, at the overpowering triumph of psychic forces and mental states favoring detachment over those pressing for reconnection and repair of bonds, at heromnipotencein herfantasyofseparationfrom all bonds. One might speculate that thisfantasythat one can sidestepshame,mourning, desolation, and diminishment of one's sense of a secure interpersonal world by exacting vengeance and then leavingis a part of all vengeful fantasies. TheMedeacaptures our attention because it embodies such afantasy. In the penultimate speechin the play, Jason, utterly desolate, laments:O God, do you hear it, this persecution,These my sufferings from the hatefulWoman, this monster, murderess of children?Still what I can do that I will do;I will lament and cry upon heaven,Calling the gods to bear me witnessHow you have killed my boys and prevent me fromTouching their bodies or giving them burial.I wish I had never begot them to see themAfterward slaughtered by you.[ll. 1405-1414]The chariot drawn by dragons symbolizes Medea's total narcissistic withdrawal into the mental states ofomnipotenceand triumph that replace her previous humiliation and desolation. This omnipotent-460-fantasyobviates any need for forgiveness or cooperation with the social order. The final scene is a portrayal, metaphorically, of a triumphant and omnipotent mental state, akin to the one symbolized by the deserted island on whichThe Tempesttakes place, a way of expressing a state of omnipotent retreat in response to the overpoweringshamethat accompanies betrayal by an intimate.The Tempest,which portrays forgiveness as the triumph of the forces ofattachmentover those of narcissistic withdrawal, moves toward cooperation andrestorationof ties to the social order. TheMedea,culminating in themetaphorof omnipotent withdrawal, moves in the opposite directionfrom involvement to complete disattachment, triumph over Jason, and filicidal and regicidal vengeance. Medea, infantasy, has obviated any need to go through a process of facing and bearing hershamesufficiently to mourn and continue life with her children, in Corinth or in Athens. She has done so because, infantasy, theprocessesofmourningand continuing her life with her children would be tantamount to forgiveness and complicity with the world of her betrayers. Such complicity would in her mind give rise tounbearableshame.Concluding RemarksWe are left horrified by this play, not only because themother's vengeful and spiteful slaughter of her children is fundamentally horrifying, but also because we realize, at some level, the frightening message that the children's well-beingand even their lives depend so intimately on theirmother's narcissistic equilibrium and her tolerance ofshame. What is put to the test, with a horrifying resolution in the play, is whether Medea's current and past circumstances, as well as the paranoidshame fantasies so innate to her, make it impossible for her to overcome her tendencies toward vengeful destruction and complete narcissistic withdrawal. Ultimately, she cannot overcome the powerful,shame-evoking forces and assume a degree of cooperation with the social order for her children's sake and her own. Cooperation of this kind is a sort of forgiveness in the weakest sense of the word: forgiving as in letting go of a debt, for no sakeotherthan of her ownpsychic equilibriumand the preservation of her ties to her children and the community. That Medea cannot do this, despite her magical exit, the omnipotently triumphant state of mind with which the play ends, makes the tragedy truly her own.-461-Euripides' literary insights point the way to clinical hypotheses that may guide ourthinkingin situations in whichunbearableshame, with no apparent possibility of external or internal resolution or repair drives a hardened vengefulness. 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