Title: Honest Iago and the Evil Nature of Words

Title:"Honest" Iago and the evil nature of words

Author(s):Francesco Aristide Ancona

Source:Journal of Evolutionary Psychology.26.1-2 (Mar. 2005): p44.FromLiterature Resource Center.

Document Type:Critical essay

Full Text:

What if you were evil? How would you destroy your enemies? Would you do it by telling the truth? Probably not. But, if you were Iago, you would. And it makes perfect sense.

If one lives in a world of goodness, honesty and truth, then evil would have to be, of course, anything, that is untruthful--succinctly, anything that is a lie. Yet who among us lives in such a world of goodness and "truth"? We may like to believe we do, but our world is anything but truthful. In fact, we lie all the time. It is accepted and, worse, expected. For example, if your dear Granny should ask how she looks in the new hat she is so proud to have purchased, would you tell her the truth? Would you say, "Granny, you look silly and awful?" I doubt it. You'd probably tell a little lie. You'd probably tell her she looks nice, wouldn't you? Or what about your boss? Would you tell your boss the truth all the time? If you took a day off, would you admit you weren't sick but just overslept because you were out "partying" all night? Would youngsters tell their parents the truth? Do their parents really want to know? When asked what they did till two o'clock in the morning, do you think your teenagers would actually tell you? Or are you satisfied they're home safely and respond to your query--" what did you do last night?"--with a dispassionate and simple, "nothing much"? And what about you? What lies do you tell--especially to yourself?

What am I getting at? In a truthful world, an evildoer causes mayhem by lying. But in a world filled with lies--as ours is--how does one become evil? The answer is as obvious as it is simple: One tells the truth! In a world where everyone survives by telling lies to each other and, more importantly, to him- or herself, the person who tells the truth is the one who strips away the protective fabrications and, in the process, conjures up the most chaos. Thus, as bizarre as it may seem, Iago's source of evil, his "poison," is truth!

Consequently, "Honest Iago"--just think of the numerous times his honesty is referred to in the play--tries whenever possible to tell the truth, so much so that sometimes when he does tell a lie he will actually admit it. For example, after he deftly manipulates the "truth" by using a conditional interrogative to provoke Othello's jealousy, "What if I had

said I had seen him do you wrong?" (IV, i, 24, The Arden Shakespeare: Complete Works, revised edition, 2002), Iago creates chaos because Othello's imagination and assumptions lead him to believe Cassio has actually admitted an affair with Desdemona--even when Iago admits he is only asking "what if" and really doesn't know the truth:

Othello: What hath he said?

Iago: Faith, that he did--I know not what. He did--

Othello: What? What?

Iago: Lie.

Othello: With her?

Iago: With her, on her, what you will. (IV, i, 31-34)

Another example occurs when Iago relates Cassio's "dream" about Desdemona. Iago paints an adulterous scene for Othello's imagination, claiming Cassio--who talks in his sleep--was dreaming aloud about making love to Desdemona. But when Othello, totally believing the dream as real, shouts in pain, "O monstrous! Monstrous" (III, iii, 428), Iago is quick to belie the reality of what he just related, "Nay, this was but his dream" (III, iii, 429). We have no way of knowing whether or not Cassio actually does talk in his sleep or if he had such a dream, but it doesn't matter because Iago's admission truthfully negates the reality of the situation playing out in Othello's imagination.

But is Iago's world really so filled with lies that he can utterly manipulate the truth to create havoc? It sure is, thanks to the genius of Shakespeare, who envisions a dramatic realm so real it "mirrors" life. In Shakespeare's hands, the purpose of life is to provide a mirror for the plays just as the plays (as Hamlet informs us) mirror nature. In fact, Shakespeare's ability to create such "rounded" characters is so incredible it sometimes surpasses our ability to accept his characters as real people. Succinctly, we have a limit to our ability to "suspend our disbelief," so we tend to stereotype a character when he or she becomes too "alive" and exceeds our comfort level. As a result, we are loathe to see the "evil" in Desdemona or in Othello and, similarly, we refuse to accept the "honesty" of Iago.

We are far more comfortable compartmentalizing and limiting the characters rather than accepting them as complex, multifaceted "living" beings. Consequently, when Iago assesses Desdemona's personality by calling her a youth whose very immaturity will someday--when she matures--cause her to change her feelings about Othello-"She must change for youth; when she is sated with his body she will find the error of her choice: she must have change, she must" (I, iii, 351-53)--we quickly reject his assessment. We find Iago's words crass and naively want to believe Desdemona will be madly in love with Othello her entire life, even though very few of us could love that way from such an early age without ever desiring "change"--especially when married to someone many years our senior and different from us in so many ways. Sadly and selfishly, we want Desdemona to be "perfect" rather than wanting her to be human. Actually, our state of denial is so strong we even refuse to see the "signs" of that change occurring. For example, when Cassio arrives in Cyprus, rather than prepare the troops for war--which is what we would expect the advance person to be doing--he is entertaining the men by informing them of the arrival of "our great captain's captain," the "divine Desdemona," the woman who is "she that I spake of" (II, i). Obviously, he has been speaking about her quite a bit when he should be preparing the men for war. And, not only is his praise of her extreme, hut also it is inappropriate:

O, behold,

The riches of the ship is come on shore:

You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees!

Hail to thee, lady, and the grace of heaven,

Before, behind thee, and on every hand

Enwheel thee round!

(II, i, 83-87)

First, his seemingly benign compliment displays his true, not so complimentary, feelings buried beneath the "exaggeration." She may be the "riches" of the ship but, once categorized as "riches," she is property nevertheless--valuable property that entrances: he or owns it. This is the same attitude towards women the blatantly superficial Claudio (of Much Ado About Nothing) displays when, referring to Hero, he asks Benedick, "Can the world buy such a jewel?" (I. i, 172). Actually, Desdemona is especially valuable property because she belongs to Cassio's boss, perhaps engendering an unconscious competition between Cassio and the unsuspecting Othello. Regardless, Cassio's praise illustrates Desdemona's tragedy. Isn't this the very mindset--women are chattel--which made her flee her father in the first place? In fact, it is only honest Iago who accurately voices this truth when he awakens Brabantio with the cry:

Awake, what ho, Brabantio! thieves, thieves, thieves!

Look to your house, your daughter and your bags!

Thieves, thieves!

(I, i, 78-80)

The point is, Iago speaks the truth" when he correctly identifies Desdemona's role in her society--for all intensive purposes, she is "chattel"--while Cassio "white washes" the truth with a little lie in an attempt to control as well as attract. Ultimately, Cassio's compliment both furthers the lowly status of Desdemona while simultaneously (and ironically) places her on a Madonna-like pedestal, a glorified position, but a precarious one. For, as long as she fulfills the criteria he sets, she remains on the pedestal; however, the moment she disappoints he who has put her there, she falls. In this way, placing her on a pedestal controls her while the flattery keeps her in "her place."

Furthermore, remember Desdemona is just a young girl, probably about fourteen, so such elaborate idolatry from Cassio is quite unearned, and she knows it; therefore, some ulterior motive is certainly being, hinted at beneath his floral show of praise. Indeed-, Cassio's "gentlemanly" woman-friendly act is obviously a "lie," a persona he has created to get what he wants. For example, when Emila enters, Cassio is quick to greet her with a kiss and these words of inadequate explanation to her husband:

Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,

That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding

That gives me this bold show of courtesy.

(II, i, 97-99)

This is obviously a lie, isn't it? He did not kiss Desdemona. Why would his "breeding" extend such a "bold show of courtesy" to one woman but not the other? His breeding has nothing to do with anything. He knows with what he can get away and quite opportunistically takes advantage of the situation.

Second, while this whole charade is being played out, Othello is off at war and could be in serious danger if not already dead, but it seems he has been forgotten by all those who profess to love him--all except Iago. Even Desdemona, it seems, has more important things on her mind. When Iago insults his wife Emilia by responding negatively to her behavior with Cassio, Desdemona defends her friend by calling Iago a "slanderer." Yet, despite calling him a slanderer, his assessment of her is exactly what Desdemona seeks from Iago because she intuits the blunt honesty with which he responds and, therefore, trusts his perspective as one that may be tactless but "cuts to the chase." His assessment of her is important especially now that her "ears are still ringing" with all of Cassio's flattery, which has to be confusing to one so young and so formerly sheltered. She wants to believe what Cassio says, but does she dare? Is she really that wonderful? Could such a "hunk" as Cassio really be worshipping her? Thus, to get a more sober, more honest and truthful critique, she is quick to ask Iago, "What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst praise me" (II, i, 124)? The operative word here is, obviously, "me." Desdemona's superficial and self-serving desire to procure an objective assessment and more praise is not lost on Iago, who quickly reminds her about Othello and the fact that he is missing and perhaps in danger. By doing so, he underlines her superficial self-concern while, simultaneously, hints at the shallowness of her professed deep love for Othello.

In an effort to save face, Desdemona replies, "I am not merry, but I do beguile the thing I am by seeming otherwise" (II, i, 122-23). Now this is extremely revealing. First, it points to her self-admittance that she, like everyone else, presents a defensive show--a little lie--to hide her "true" self. This, in turn, is ominous because it is too reminiscent of her father's curse and admonishment:

Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see:

She has deceived her father, and may thee.

(I, iii, 294-95)

This curse does not fall on proverbial "deaf ears," as both Othello and Iago are quite aware of it. In fact, Iago uses it later in the play to undermine Othello's trust:

She did deceive her father, marrying you,

And when she seemed to shake, and fear your looks,

She loved them most.

(III, iii, 209-211)

Second, it is obviously a lie--as evidenced by her immediate questioning, "come, how wouldst thou praise me?" The juxtaposition of this question immediately following her statement that she beguiles the thing she is by seeming otherwise shows only too well which is lie and which is truth. Desdemona is a young girl high on the "praise and flattery" of a handsome youth like Cassio, but because she is young she needs additional external validity of her beauty--especially from another mate, an older and less flattering (more truthful) male-before she can allow herself to believe Cassio could truly be attracted to her. Her question quickly strips away the Madonna-like image and reveals her to be--like all of us--a real person living a lie. As Iago informs the lovesick Roderigo, she is not "blest"; rather, "The wine she drinks is made of grapes" (II, ii, 249-50).

Yet the most revealing moment is just ahead. When Iago insults Desdemona with his blunt honesty, Cassio is quick to come to her defense and, just as importantly, she is quick to find comfort in his hands. As a result, the two youths retreat from the group and whisper off together privately. They hold hands, and Cassio even kisses fingers. All of this is under the guise of "comforting," but Iago sees the amorous potential beneath this show and in an aside cries, "You say true, 'tis so/indeed" (II, i, 170-71). He now has the little web he needs to ensnare "as/great a fly as Cassio" (II, i, 168-69), but he also knows the truth: There is more going on between these two than common courtesy. There is an attraction, whether or not they even know it! Iago's observation is reinforced the next time these two are alone. When Cassio is stripped of his position, he goes to Desdemona hoping she will intercede on his behalf with Othello. There is nothing wrong with this tactic; in fact, it is suggested by Iago. And, indeed, it is an excellent way for Cassio to get his job back. As Iago informs us,

And what's he then that says I play the villain?

When this advice is free I give and honest,

Probal to thinking and indeed the course

To win the Moor again?

(II, iii, 325-28)

Now, the problem is not with the reason for meeting; the problem is with Desdemona's behavior. Nevertheless, even Iago has to be surprised by how well his plan works due to Desdemona's over-spirited response to Cassio's query for assistance. Continuing the above thought, Iago rationalizes,