Tragedy and the Common Man

Miller’s essay takes on the form of a rhetorical argument, primarily using logos, or appeals to logic, to illustrate his point that tragedy as an art form should be updated for modern times. He begins by stating what he sees as a problem: that modern society thinks itself below tragedy, and that tragedy is now seen as archaic and only fit for those of high social status. The rest of the essay attempts to dismantle this argument using reason and logic, providing specific arguments and addressing potential counterarguments. At several points throughout the essay, Miller brings up a misconception or commonly held belief about tragedy in order to argue against it by using logic and appealing to the audience’s knowledge of famous works of tragedy. By providing his own analysis of the nature and purpose of tragedy and tragic heroes, and in arguing for why they are relevant to common people of the modern era, Miller arrives at his conclusion that the tradition of tragic drama ought to be revived and updated.

Although his essay is argumentative in nature, Miller’s tone is cool and measured; he is more observational than declarative. In several instances, he prefaces his arguments and his positions with statements such as “I believe” and “I think” (2, 4, 20). While he does intend to persuade, Miller is not attempting to take an authoritative or overly defensive stance on this topic because, although the essay is a direct response to criticism of his work, it expounds his long-held and deeply considered ideas. It is also important that the essay was published in the New York Times, intended for a general audience—the very same people he champions both in his plays and within the essay—and this is reflected by the essay’s down-to-earth language and style and its acceptable step-by-step structure. By equating the struggles of the common people to the struggles of epic heroes of literature, Miller invites the audience to embrace tragedy as a way of examining and questioning existing social structures. His main intent, then, is not to lecture but to encourage his audience to embrace tragedy as a viable art form and means of exploring the struggles of the common people. The tone of his essay reflects this inclusive approach.

The most integral theme to this essay, then, is The Common Man as Tragic Hero. Miller asserts that, by his definition of tragedy, the common people of his era are “as apt a subject for tragedy in its highest sense as kings were” (2). He argues that it is not personal problems specific to nobility that make tragedies so enduring and impactful; rather, it is the underlying, universal human desire to gain or to regain one’s sense of personal dignity. To support his point, Miller alludes to canonical tragic figures across time—“Orestes to Hamlet, Medea to Macbeth” (4)—to illustrate the idea that, no matter the tragic hero’s particular context, the underlying desires are the same and are equally relevant to modern times. Miller goes on to present his own definitions of tragedy, especially the defining trait of the tragic hero: “a character who is ready to lay down his life, if need be, to secure one thing—his sense of personal dignity” (4). He uses logic to provide counterarguments for why other commonly proposed definitions are inadequate.

As Miller develops his argument and proposes his definitions of tragedy, he addresses the concept of the “tragic flaw,” calling this not “necessarily a weakness” but “nothing—and need be nothing” (6), and so placing the emphasis on the hero’s circumstances and his reaction to them. Although Miller does not directly reference the Classical Greek concept of hamartia (in keeping with his accessible style), his definition of the “fatal flaw” in fact returns the idea closer to its origins: Greek hamartia is a fateful “mistake,” “misapprehension,” or even “accident” from which the hero cannot escape. As Miller writes, tragedy is about the nuance of “cause and effect” (13). The fact that the flaw is attributed as much to the society that has taken the hero’s dignity, or that “degrades” him, as to the hero himself highlights another major theme of the essay: Tragedy as Societal Critique. Tragedy, Miller argues, is a way of examining and critiquing the existing structures that rob men of their dignity. The human instinct for dignity is, he asserts, at the heart of “revolutions around the world” and known to all people. Miller stops short of suggesting that tragedy as an art form encourages dissent: He alludes to the Greeks, as well as to the story of Job in the Bible, to illustrate that this challenge to society’s structures need not “necessarily” lead to the promotion of revolution or total upheaval. Rather, “for a moment” (15), this attempted battle against social forces grants the tragic hero his stature, and rehearses the struggle for dignity and identity that characterizes human interactions.

Midway through the essay, Miller turns to the crux of his argument: refutation of the commonly held idea that a tragic hero must be a character of high status or nobility. He again appeals to logic by providing a compelling counterargument: If this were the case, then tragedies would deal with problems specific to nobility and thus would not resonate so deeply with common people. He appeals to his audience’s existing knowledge of the pervasiveness of famous works of tragic drama to highlight their continued resonance and, thus, their relevance to modern people.

Miller goes on to illuminate a third theme—Tragedy as Optimism—by stating what he believes is a misconception about tragedy: that it is inherently pessimistic, or it is nothing more than a story with a sad ending. Miller acknowledges the pervasiveness of this view in “review after review, and in many conversations with writers and readers alike” (22) before providing his counterargument that tragedy is, on the contrary, deeply optimistic, as it demands the possibility of success and victory and also asserts the heroism of human aspiration. In this way, then, the function of tragedy is also to demonstrate the “indestructible will of man” (23). He supports his statement by contrasting a tragic story with a pathetic one—a tale in which a hero grapples with superior forces he cannot possibly overcome. By illustrating the contrast between these two types of plot, Miller argues for the optimism of tragedy and posits this as the reason tragedy as an art form is so revered across centuries.

In his closing statement, Miller presents a sort of call to action:

It is time, I think, that we who are without kings, took up this bright thread of our history and followed it to the only place it can possibly lead in our time—the heart and spirit of the average man (26).

Here Miller returns to the gentle, intimacy-building language of his opening when he says “I think.” Inviting his readers to consider who we are “without kings,” he makes a direct connection with his reader, one that speaks to equality and universality. In seeking to renew the “bright thread” of tragedy, Miller’s conclusion is not only an argument for tragedy’s relevance to the modern world but also a call to action for its survival and revival.