President Iago

Othello overflows with violence. So there you go, you got your war element. Othello, if anything else, is a warrior. Desdemona, too. ("my fair warrior"). Our noblest characters are warriors, so we must rever war. That's why going to Cyprus is such a big deal. That's why the Duke of Venice and his men, representing the state, have a stake in the play. War is good.

Then comes Iago. He show us another side of war, the "game of war." He incites people to violence (Roderigo's fight on the drunken night). War, to me, equals violence, which equals killing people. What happens at the end of the play? Everyone kills each other. But . . . Othello kills Desdemona! There's the shift -- war ain't no holy religion, it's a silly, senseless brawl (game). I mean, Othello killed Desdemona! How else could this happen? The Moor was obviously not thinking straight, to say the least. He is no longer a god, but a base devil. I meant to say "toy," but I unconsciously typed "devil." What does this mean? Is Iago's game a practice in switching identities? Is it some sort of twisted role play? You know, when people smell they're being conned, they say, "What is this, a game?" They're also mad when they say it. Just a random, tangential thought.

The change of settings in Othello also bolsters Harold Goddard's argument. The "game of war [is] to be played everywhere except on the battlefield." So true. All the characters abandon comely, serene, Renaissance Venice for Cyprus, an island, far away, closer to the Turks. The Turks, of course, are inferior (they're of a different race); they're savage and barbarian (they're the enemy). The Turks are wimps and never fight because of rain. But who ends up being the savage? Drum roll please . . . Othello! Let's gouge our eyes out for his downfall, for his being played with!

But, really, what all did Iago do? He was simply deceitful. People are deceitful every day. He lied to turn people against each other, to kill each other. Come on, our own government did that. A recent study by the Center for Public Integrity and the Fund for Independence in Journalism found that the Bush administration "issued 935 false statements about the threat posed by Iraq in the two years following Sept. 11." (AJC, Jan. 27, 2008). What Iago does happens every day. Is he really that evil? Do we think our "Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States" is evil? Not all of us are disgusted with our government, but all of us grimace when pondering Iago because he embodies--"carnalizes"--an idea, a feeling, a state. Evil.

But does he really? Morality is relative. Our generation-Y class will agree on that. Ms. Williams, you'll agree on that. So what morality is Goddard working off of? You see, since morality is relative and fluid, I don't automatically think of Iago as evil. Evil, to me, requires less thought than how it occurs in Othello. It's people dying senselessly. It's mangled bodies. It's citizens manipulated and controlled into submission. I don't know . . . maybe that is what Iago does. Wait, actually, that is what he does.

Now, about the moral pyromaniac. I began to describe the nature of fire for myself. It can be a good thing. Imagine a cozy fire last weekend, as the snow fell outside. Fire means warmth, peace, and security. Now think of the Rhode Island nightclub that caught fire, and the 100-something people that were killed. Fire signifies cruelty, violence, instability, a threat to life. And so is Iago, like fire. Appearing to be wise, he manipulates Othello. Appearing to care for his well-being, for his security, he coolly bludgeons him to his downfall.