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Yugoslavia On Catharsis
by Ksenija Simic, AEGEE Beograd


Aristotle discussed it. He claimed that by the mere act of watching a
tragedy, the viewer becomes part of it; identifies with the Hero, suffers
the fierce blows of destiny with him, and, in turn, when the Hero
defeats the evil forces, the viewer, through pain and grief, becomes
purified. It's called catharsis.


We all long for it. Suppose that a play has been staged in Serbia by the assumptions of Aristotle:Among the characters must be the Leader. This role was invented long before Shakespeare. He just mastered it. It was invented by history, the all time greatest playwright, doing best in vaudeville. Nothing new can be said about the Leader. Just like in a Serbian novel, the Leader is blind, leading he obedient followeres to a bottomless abyss. His face, so wickedly small; his hands, so viciously empty, so incapable of holding anything; as if the world could just sip through them, and he wouldn't even notice. For, the Leader feels not; cares not. He isn't really
here. For all we know, he may not exist. But, he is not the Hero. Not even all that important. A heartless creature without a smile cannot matter; not in the perfect utopian world born in the hero's soul.

The setting is the street, not a false sets, made of cardboard, too many real things were replaced by imitations; so many imagine that they are living, when, in fact they are standing still in make-believe. This street is real, smelling of travel and discovery, worn out by the Hero's feet, just as the Hero's shoes are torn.

So, who can the Hero be? Aristotle would have never guessed it. He takes many forms. He is omnipresent and indestructible. The Hero is every man longing to stand tall again, as was meant to be, so tall that the Sun becomes dangerously close to his eyes, every man rediscovering that he can be free, as he was promised at birth. That he can think, dream, love and give; unbound. The Hero has vowed to walk forever, walk the Earth with determination never to stop, knowing that walking is the next best thing to flying. He walks in order to save the world from the darkness in the Leader's eyes, the darkness in the actions of his followers, the darkness in all the corners, which has been dimming the Hero's voice for too long. He walks to liberate from injustice and inhumanity and to bring love back to where it once ruled. And when they tell him that he can no longer walk, he closes his eyes, and goes on, goes forever; they can block that road; they know not the art of dreaming, no art of any kind. He walks.

So the play fits in all details except one. Aristotle insisted on the catharsical power of tragedy only; comedy, he resented. It may be that the leaders were honorable in the ancient times and needed not be ridiculed. However, the game of modern age demands new rules. Fortunately enough for the Greek, there were no media in Athens. And so the solemness of the situation can only be broken by laughter. War cannot be ended by war. Cruelty doesn't go away if you are cruel. Just like in the fairy tale, in which princess bursts into laughter and breaks the spell of the evil sorcerer; catharsis actually is attained. On the street. He who has been silenced for years, screams so awfully loud, yet, does it in good will. He blows the whistle, blows the horn, dances and sings, and draws a moustache on the Leader's poster, making him a jester, something he has always been anyhow, fighting him with a weapon he knows nothing about. Youth; innocence; happiness. The Hero makes all the noise in the world. Walks all the world's streets. They cannot harm him. For, he is purified. They will never be.

The hero's laughter bursts clouds. And the Hero wins. Not because he makes the Leader disappear. He doesn't. For, just like an evil sorcerer, he will just change his face and clothes, take the appearance of somebody new. The Leader, unfortunately, is eternal. But, it is not about the Leader. It is about pride. About the right to be all you can. And that is so much