The Right and the Good in Aeschylus ’ Oresteia and Yael Farber ’ s Molora : Transitional Justice between Deontology and Teleology

1.1. Deontology and teleology In a Kantian scheme of justice, the task of the judge is limited to awarding ‘each what is his’ (suum cuique) in accordance with a fixed set of rules. Thus, Kant describes the judge’s verdict as the conclusion of a syllogism with the legislator’s will and the facts of the case as its major and minor premise.1 In Kant’s view, this line of reasoning is the only way to preserve a ‘state of right’ in which the greatest harmony is attained between the state and the principles of right – a condition that reason would oblige us to strive after by means of a categorical imperative.2 As such, the judge’s verdict should never be meant as a means to promote any societal purpose that lies beyond these principles. With regard to criminal law, for instance, Kant claims that punishment should only be imposed on someone ‘weil er verbrochen hat’; as a noumenal being, his inborn status as a ‘Zweck an sich selbst’ protects him against any other treatment.3 This means, first of all, that his punishment should be proportional to his crime. But it also means that the criminal’s due punishment should never be remitted. For Kant, respecting the criminal’s noumenal capacities requires explaining his transgression as arising from a maxim that the criminal has adopted as his rule of action. Impunity (Straflosigkeit) would therefore not only harm the state of right in itself; it would also degrade the transgressor to a mere ‘thing’, without any prospects of being re-established into his full humanity.4 The remission of due punishment, in fact, is estimated by Kant as ‘the greatest wrong’ (das grösste Unrecht).5 In a philosophical tradition that goes back to Aristotle, however, being fully human entails more than just developing one’s individual noumenal capacities. In his Politics, for example, Aristotle explains


Deontology and teleology
In a Kantian scheme of justice, the task of the judge is limited to awarding 'each what is his' (suum cuique) in accordance with a fixed set of rules.Thus, Kant describes the judge's verdict as the conclusion of a syllogism with the legislator's will and the facts of the case as its major and minor premise. 1 In Kant's view, this line of reasoning is the only way to preserve a 'state of right' in which the greatest harmony is attained between the state and the principles of right -a condition that reason would oblige us to strive after by means of a categorical imperative. 2 As such, the judge's verdict should never be meant as a means to promote any societal purpose that lies beyond these principles.With regard to criminal law, for instance, Kant claims that punishment should only be imposed on someone 'weil er verbrochen hat'; as a noumenal being, his inborn status as a 'Zweck an sich selbst' protects him against any other treatment. 3his means, first of all, that his punishment should be proportional to his crime.But it also means that the criminal's due punishment should never be remitted.For Kant, respecting the criminal's noumenal capacities requires explaining his transgression as arising from a maxim that the criminal has adopted as his rule of action.Impunity (Straflosigkeit) would therefore not only harm the state of right in itself; it would also degrade the transgressor to a mere 'thing' , without any prospects of being re-established into his full humanity. 4The remission of due punishment, in fact, is estimated by Kant as 'the greatest wrong' (das grösste Unrecht). 5n a philosophical tradition that goes back to Aristotle, however, being fully human entails more than just developing one's individual noumenal capacities.In his Politics, for example, Aristotle explains that the unfolding of one's humanity essentially depends on one's associations with others within the private circle of the household (oikos) and the public sphere of the city state (polis), described by Aristotle as a community that is held together by a shared sense of morality and justice. 6When he defines man as a 'political animal' (politikon dzōion), Aristotle thus not merely refers to humans as gregarious animals that cling together just for the sake of life; instead, he explains that the polis exists for the sake of the good life, understood as a state of human happiness (eudaimonia) for which the virtue of justice and a well-ordered polis are primary prerequisites. 7For Aristotle, therefore, justice is not an end in itself; instead, it is intertwined with the private and public relations that enable the good life as the ultimate goal (telos) of human existence.Within such a relational conception of justice, in which primacy is given to the good over the right, it is impossible for a judge to decide a specific case on the sole basis of pure reason and logical deduction from a given set of principles of right.Instead, the Aristotelian approach to adjudication demands the judge to investigate how these principles work out within the particular framework of the concrete relations in which they are operative. 8In contrast to Kant, who adheres to a strictly deontological approach to law, Aristotle thus proposes a teleological theory of law, taking its understanding of human happiness as its highest goal.

Transitional justice
The antagonism between deontological and teleological conceptions of law can be felt throughout the field of law. 9It is particularly pressing, however, in the context of what is commonly referred to as 'transitional justice' . 10In the wake of massive and enduring violations of human rights, both victims and perpetrators can come to perceive the loss of humanity.A lived experience of such dehumanization is reported, for example, by Primo Levi, who reports that prisoners and their guards in Auschwitz 'paradoxically fraternized in a uniform internal desolation' , having 'buried their humanity' either 'under an offence received or inflicted on someone else' . 11How, then, if at all, could surviving victims and perpetrators regain their humanity after the violence and bloodshed has ended?How could legal institutions possibly contribute to this?Should the legal response to mass atrocities be primarily directed to retribution of all wrongdoing, or rather to restoration of the community in which both the perpetrators and their victims will inevitably have a share?Could perpetrators ever be partly released from their due punishment and still be held accountable as full noumenal beings?Should transitional justice be focused primarily on doing justice to what happened in the past, or should it rather construct a workable common future?In other words: should the legal response to massive violence and bloodshed mainly be a deontological one, giving primacy to the right in awarding 'each what is his' (suum cuique) according to a given set of principles of law?Or should the response to mass atrocities be primarily teleological in nature, with the 'state of right' being subservient to some higher outward good?
In recent years, these and related questions have attracted wide scholarly attention, both in legal studies and adjacent fields of research.In this context, it has become standard to refer to Aeschylus' Oresteia as a story in which the institution of a court of law marks the successful transition from a tribal society ruled by the force of vengeance and reciprocal bloodshed to an ordered civilization governed by law. 12Whereas legal literature generally only refers to the Oresteia in passing, 13 this paper sets out to The Right and the Good in Aeschylus' Oresteia and Yael Farber's Molora:  Transitional Justice between Deontology and Teleology examine the topic of adjudication and conflict resolution in Aeschylus' drama more in full.Moreover, it will discuss the same topic in Molora, in which South-African playwright Yael Farber redrafts Aeschylus' original into a play that investigates the workings of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC).It is our contention that conflict resolution in both plays depends on a precarious balance of a deontological conception of law, like Kant's, on the one hand and a teleological approach like Aristotle's on the other.This can, we think, be aptly understood by studying the plays from the perspective of the legal and moral philosophy of Paul Ricoeur, which adopts some crucial elements of Kant's Doctrine of Right without, however, betraying its fundamentally Aristotelian nature.

Ricoeur
Like Aristotle, Ricoeur grounds his moral and legal philosophy by presupposing an innate human telos that requires associations with others for its true fulfilment.First, as Ricoeur has it, the individual human being is a capable subject that needs to actualize their human capacities in interpersonal relations with other subjects; these relations, as he explains, can be placed under the heading of a dialogue between an 'I' and a 'you' that helps the subject to constitute an identity. 14These face-to-face relations, however, lack the relation to a third party that Ricoeur considers as equally essential.In order for the subject to be fully human, interpersonal relations do not suffice; so-called 'institutional forms of association' would also be indispensable.Institutional mediation, as Ricoeur explains, enables us to associate with others while remaining at a certain distance.In this way, it extends interhuman relations to all those that the proximity of the face-to-face relation of an 'I' and a 'you' leaves out.As such, institutions allow subjects to become part of a social system that is not confined to relations of subjects with other subjects, but comprises a plurality of subjects united by the institution. 15icoeur adduces the pragmatics of human discourse as a parallel to this.As he explains, human communication is 'at least a bipolar phenomenon' that naturally involves an 'I' and a 'you' . 16It is only with regard to others that one is really able to identify oneself; and it is only in the context of interlocution that a subject can say something meaningful.It is not difficult, however, to see how communication usually involves more than just a bipolar relation.To begin with, the proximal relation of interlocution does not in itself account for the formal institution of language in which human discourse is usually framed, encompassing not only the partners in a concrete dialogue, but all members of a linguistic community more in general.And, more fundamentally: human discourse depends on more than the formal rules of syntax and semantics alone; from the well-known theory of speech acts, it can be understood that it essentially relies on the confidence that language users are wont to place in each other as co-operative partakers in a common enterprise. 17hat goes for language, Ricoeur argues, applies to law as well.Only within the context of bipolar relations with others can one designate oneself as the responsible author of one's own actions.The social bond of contracts, however, depends not only on an 'I' and a 'you' , but also on the institution of law in which it is embedded.Therefore, it comprises not only the partakers in a mutual agreement, but also the members of a legal community more in general.Like human discourse, the body of rules and principles within this community are predicated upon a structure of trust that serves as its ultimate rule of recognition.Full membership of such a community is therefore essential 'for the achievement of human potentialities' . 18As Ricoeur further explains, it is only in the context of politics, broadly understood with Hannah Arendt as the condition of human interesse within the public realm, that the innate wish for the good life can find its ultimate fulfilment. 19As such, it is important to recognize that Ricoeur does not understand the institution of the public space merely as a formal structure, but rather, with Aristotle, as an organic construction that originates from the innate human desire to co-operate in a shared moral Lukas van den Berge & Christiaan Caspers enterprise.'It is as citizens' , Ricoeur argues, 'that we become human' .Like Aristotle, therefore, he contends that the wish to live in the moral community of a polis signifies nothing else. 20s Ricoeur further argues, however, the 'crowning achievement of the good life' 21 as the telos of human existence cannot be provided by the association with others as such.In addition to what he designates as the 'horizontal axis (…) of dialogical constitution of the self ' , therefore, fulfilment of the human capacity for the good life requires a 'vertical axis' that provides the predicates that qualify human actions in terms of morality. 22For an important part, this vertical axis is Kantian in nature, comprising, among others, a purely deontological 'level of the norm, of duty, of interdiction' that holds its subjects accountable for its actions as full noumenal beings.As Ricoeur hastens to say, however, deontological moral philosophy can only do without teleology at the price of ignoring 'the rootedness of moral philosophy in life, in desire, in what is lacking' . 23Morality, defined by Ricoeur as a set of 'norms characterized by the claim to universality and an effect of constraint' , should therefore be regarded as subservient to ethics, understood as the innate human aim of living the good life in association with others. 24With particular regard to the act of judging, such a primacy of the good over the right certainly does not mean that the judge can do without a set of predefined rules. 25After all, as Ricoeur explains, it is only 'when backed by a juridical system existing essentially of written laws' that the judge can impose himself on the contestants in the required position of a non-partisan third party. 26Ultimately, however, judging comes down to defining the force of law in terms of a singular situation, 27 for which ethics can require a correction to what would only be 'legally just' . 28or Ricoeur, the 'philosophical place of justice' is thus found at the intersection between the horizontal axis that enables the subject to shape an identity on the one hand and the vertical axis of moral qualification on the other hand.As such, his account of law may be understood as a reconciliation between Kantian deontology and Aristotelian teleology.As he emphatically states, however, his understanding of law is most fundamentally Aristotelian in nature, with justice conceived as 'a wish before it is an imperative' . 29or Ricoeur, therefore, adjudication cannot depend on reason alone, but should also take its recourse to the virtue of 'practical wisdom' (phronesis), with the just often entailing a 'unique decision made within a climate of uncertainty and incertitude' . 30Ricoeur believes that the pursuit of justice must not seldom end with the judge's 'heartfelt conviction' that is ultimately grounded in the human telos of living the good life in association with others, only secondarily ratified by a predefined set of rules.Ricoeur's adherence to such a model of adjudication is directly linked to his Aristotelian view of man as a 'political animal' (politikon dzōion), owing his full humanity to interpersonal and institutional relations with others.Outside the moral community of the polis, Ricoeur contends, one can only be an 'initial draft of a man' , not being able to live up to one's full potential. 31Therefore, doing justice may importantly consist of setting up or restoring such a community, integrating or re-integrating both victims and perpetrators in the shared moral enterprise of which they have been deprived or which they have forsaken. 32After all, it is only as full members of a stable polis that their humanity can fully unfold itself.

Philosophy in action
In our view, Aeschylus' Oresteia and Yael Farber's Molora are presentations of Ricoeur's model of law in action.Aeschylus' original play and Farber's adaptation are both densely populated by victims and perpetrators suffering from a sense of deprivation and a lack of fulfilment of which they can only be The Right and the Good in Aeschylus' Oresteia and Yael Farber's Molora:  Transitional Justice between Deontology and Teleology relieved by means of a public trial.As a result of what they did or what they suffered, wrongdoers and their victims alike find themselves in a state of subhumanity, either being debarred from or actively defying the communal order of real polis life.Adjudication can only really solve the conflict by setting up or restoring such an order, in which both parties can finally fulfil their full humanity.At the same time, however, both the Oresteia and Molora point out that the institution or restoration of such an order is only possible by establishing a clear 'vertical axis of moral predication' that holds the perpetrators responsible for their actions and decidedly acknowledges the unwarranted grief of the victims.In fact, as we will argue, both plays clearly indicate that unambiguously dividing the parties, giving them each their due, is paradoxically essential to integrate them, on a higher level, within the same community.
In what follows, we will develop our argument in the following way.First, we will offer a short account of the Orestes myth as it is plotted in Aeschylus' Oresteia and describe briefly how Farber's play translates the story to post-apartheid South Africa.Then, we will provide a side-by-side analysis of the plays in which we will particularly emphasize the ways in which both dramas depict their protagonists as subhuman figures, mere 'drafts' of human beings, unable to fulfil their human capacities in relation with others within the shared moral order of real polis life.Subsequently, we will explain how the protagonists' main actions in the plays are motivated by the desire to resolve the subhumanity from which they suffer.At first, they set out to establish justice, doing their utmost to create kosmos out of chaos on their own accord.Ultimately, however, they acknowledge that communal life is only possible when they subject themselves to a court of law as an institutional third party, recognizing that both the 'winner' and the 'loser' of the trial partakes in the same cooperative enterprise of a common society.Both Aeschylus' Oresteia and Yael Farber's Molora thus confirm Ricoeur's conception of law as a precarious balance between deontology and teleology, with the establishment of an enduring social peace, however, as its highest outward goal.

The story
The Oresteia is a series of three interconnected tragedies, first performed in 458 BCE at the Great Dionysia, a sacred festival in Athens in which the entire civic community was expected to participate. 33he first play of the trilogy, Agamemnon, opens at the moment when, after a long siege, the Greek army led by Agamemnon has won the Trojan War.In the king's absence, the city of Argos has been ruled by his wife Clytemnestra, and his triumphant return is eagerly anticipated: by the Argive citizens, who look forward, albeit with apprehension, to the restoration of normal order; and by Clytemnestra, who has been plotting in secret towards Agamemnon's death in revenge for his sacrifice of their daughter Iphigenia.The vengeance is exacted, and in the trilogy's second play, Libation Bearers, the dead king's exiled son Orestes returns to Argos and avenges in his turn the killing of his father by killing Clytemnestra and her new consort.After the matricide, Orestes is pursued by the Furies as the earth-bound ('chthonic') deities who traditionally avenge intra-familial bloodshed.Political order is only established, however, in the trilogy's third play, Eumenides, in which Orestes stands trial before a newly instituted court of law that is presided over by the goddess Athena.The judgment of this court finally breaks the chain of killing and requital initiated by the sacrifice of Iphigenia.
Aeschylus was not the first writer to tell this story; its most extensive earlier treatment can be found in Homer's Odyssey, in which it serves as a foil for its main story about Odysseus' successful return into his household and his city.34Among the surviving versions, the Oresteia stands out for the extent to which the myth's central events are made to reflect real-life issues of justice and conflict resolution.The Oresteia plays on political concerns that were acutely felt at the time of its first performance, when the juridical system of Athens had just been radically reorganized. 35But Aeschylus' fellow citizens also felt

Lukas van den Berge & Christiaan Caspers
that his plays could also teach them something valuable about polis life more in general.In Aristophanic comedy, Aeschylus is emphatically celebrated for his 'good counsel' (nouthesia), with his tragedies making people 'better members of their communities' . 36The idea of the Oresteia containing some sort of political wisdom has persisted well into modern times, with successive interpreters of the Oresteia continuously finding new significances in the plays.Farber's adaptation is a clear example of this.As she explains in her foreword to the play, the Oresteia struck her as 'as a powerful canvas on which to explore the history of dispossession, violence and human-rights violations' in the country she grew up in; accordingly, she designed Molora as a drama that explores 'the journey back from the dark heart of unspeakable trauma and pain -and the choices facing those shattered by the past' .Thus, she explicitly draws on Aeschylus' story as 'an examination of the spirals of violence begat by vengeance' , with these spirals being finally broken in the court of law. 37olora stages the challenges that South Africa faced after the end of apartheid.Farber's stage directions describe its 'ideal venue' as a 'bare hall or room -much like the drab, simple venues in which most of the testimonies were heard during the course of South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission' .The play is structured as a series of such testimonies, interposed by flashbacks of what happened and songs of a Chorus of women who represent the community.Clytemnestra is Molora's only white character; Electra, Orestes, Agamemnon and the women of the Chorus are all black.At first instance, Clytemnestra seems only proud of what she has done, boasting about her killing of Agamemnon as a rightful deed of justice.In their testimonies as witnesses before the TRC, Electra and Orestes demand full retribution of what has been inflicted upon them, describing their sufferings in gruesome detail.In the course of the process, their call for revenge subsides.When Electra jumps forward to kill her mother, she is withheld by the Chorus and Orestes, who urges her to 'rewrite this ancient end' .As Electra finally crawls back, the Chorus pray that the cycle of bloodshed is finally broken.As Farber states in her foreword, a way out of the conflict is thus not provided by some deus ex machina, but, instead, by 'the common everyman and everywoman who (...) gathered (...) to face their perpetrators (...), and find a way forward for us all' . 38

Progress?
The Oresteia's narrative trajectory from retaliatory killing to juridical resolution has often been described in terms of a quasi-historical progress, with the civilization of the polis and the rationality of law ultimately replacing an archaic and tribal conception of justice that calls for reciprocal vengeance and perpetual bloodshed.In such readings, the story of Aeschylus' Oresteia emerges as something like a charter myth for the emergence of classical Athens as the centre of the civilized world. 39In recent decades, such progressivist interpretations of the Oresteia have met severe criticism.In a ground-breaking article, for example, Froma Zeitlin argued that the Oresteia does not show us real resolution of a conflict, but rather a 'hierarchization of values' which places 'Olympian over chthonic on the divine level, Greek over barbarian on the cultural level and male over female on the social level' . 40In her thorough deconstructive analysis of the play, Zeitlin contends to uncover the 'dynamics of misogyny' that, in her view, importantly inform the play's myth-making.Accordingly, she claims to show how Aeschylus' Oresteia legitimates a repressive 'social and political ideology' whose mythic basis would often have been ignored.In this way, Aeschylus' play would reinforce an authoritative power that oppresses the barbarian and the female by organizing and manipulating reality in ways that are usually neither recognized nor acknowledged.Therefore, in the Oresteia the conflict would not really be ended, but instead be continued under the thin surface of a 'civilization' that oppresses victims and leaves perpetrators unpunished. 41he Right and the Good in Aeschylus' Oresteia and Yael Farber's Molora: Transitional Justice between Deontology and Teleology Although such critical readings of the Oresteia have much to commend themselves, we believe that they tend to overlook an aspect of the trilogy's design that we regard as crucially important for its proper understanding: the pervasive desire for a political community that has been obviated or disturbed by reciprocal violence and bloodshed.As we will explain further below, this desire marks a lack of fulfilment on Ricoeur's 'horizontal level' of stable relations with others that can be felt throughout the entire trilogy, from the opening lines in Agamemnon until it is finally resolved at the Oresteia's conclusion in Eumenides.In our view, the pervasiveness of this desire goes a long way to explain why all protagonists ultimately subject themselves to a 'vertical axis of deontological predication' that may, indeed, be less than perfect, although far less oppressive than Zeitlin envisions.In fact, as we will further explain below, the official recognition of the Furies' laments as legitimate complaints plays a crucial role in the final resolution of the conflict.Accordingly, social peace is only established when they are given pride of place within the polis.As such, they are not silenced, as Zeitlin has it, but genuinely incorporated into the social fabric of the community; only in this way can their divine forces finally be turned to the good.
With regard to Yael Farber's Molora, we encounter parallel problems.The play has been most extensively studied in the recent thesis of Astrid van Weyenberg, which explores how themes of Greek tragedy were received into postcolonial Africa. 42As for the Oresteia, Van Weyenberg subscribes to Zeitlin's interpretation of the play not really culminating in conflict resolution, but rather in the dominance of one version of justice over other versions. 43In the reality to which Molora refers, Van Weyenberg argues, something similar happened.The 'forward-looking' conception of justice that the TRC constructed would far too often have ignored the Furies' legitimate laments; in Molora, this would not be properly recognized. 44In our discussion of this matter, it will not be our objective to assess to what extent Molora's depiction of the workings of the TRC matches what really happened in the aftermath of apartheid. 45t least regarding the depiction of justice within the play itself, however, we believe that a Ricoeurian reading of Molora puts her critique into a different perspective.With Ricoeur, we would argue that partial amnesty for perpetrators, especially when an honest and public testimony of what really happened is one of its conditions, does not necessarily result in amnesia of the victims' unwarranted sufferings and the perpetrator's transgressions.The publicity of the trials, in fact, does not count for nothing, setting up a new public narrative of past events that may serve as a clear 'vertical axis of moral predication' that still, and enduringly so, holds perpetrators responsible for their actions.As we will see, the force of such publicity is explicitly thematised in the Oresteia and Molora alike.Therefore, Van Weyenberg's view of Molora as a rather superficial treatment of justice, not really dealing with the ambiguities that transitional justice necessarily entails, 46 seems only partially justified.Below, we will explain this.

The desire for fulfilment
In Aeschylus' Oresteia, violence and bloodshed mark the disturbance of the royal household (oikos) of the city of Argos; and it is clear that the atrocities within Argos' principle household also obviate real communal polis life in the city more at large.Many scholars take Aristotle's trilogy to reflect the emergence of the polis as the result of the forces of the oikos submitting themselves to the laws of the city. 47Christian Meier, for example, contends that Aeschylus' Eumenides marks the 'discovery of politics' as a 'splitting off of the political from the social order' , with a man-made civic order finally being placed over the particularist forces of nature. 48As we believe, however, Aeschylus' Oresteia presents the polis rather as the object of an innate desire for fulfilment that is inherent in the human condition.For us, Aeschylus' Oresteia thus exemplifies Aristotle's claim about the naturalness of the polis and its essential Lukas van den Berge & Christiaan Caspers role as a precondition for the fulfilment of human life.As such, we believe that it makes little sense to view the Oresteia as referring to some sort of prepolitical 'state of nature' from which humans would have liberated themselves by wilfully instituting the civilized life of the polis.Instead, we take Aeschylus' Oresteia as reflecting the natural need for a well-ordered polis as a prerequisite for the unfolding of human capacities. 49n the Oresteia, the absence of a genuine polis is figured in terms of three dominant sets of imagery: the image of the animal, the image of the wanderer, and the complementary images of darkness and light.These images permeate the entire trilogy.In the opening lines of Aeschylus' drama, for example, animal imagery is imminently present when we encounter a Watchman who identifies his duty as a degrading 'labour' (ponos), having spent his long year's watch 'like a dog' (kunos dikēn), perching on his elbows on the palace's roof. 50Some commentators on this passage have been reluctant to allow the scope of the simile to extend beyond the watchman's uncomfortable physical position. 51In a poetic process characteristic of Aeschylus, however, the image of the 'watchdog' gains resonance through its reiteration as the trilogy progresses.Clytemnestra compounds the watchman's diagnosis by describing her own role during the king's absence as that of a 'watchdog of the house'; 52 Agamemnon himself is hailed by his wife, in pointedly ambivalent terms, as a 'watchdog' returning to protect his homestead; 53 Clytemnestra, in the delirious visions of the prophetess Cassandra, is figured as a fawning but hateful bitch; 54 and, in Libation Bearers, Agamemnon's orphaned daughter Electra describes herself as one 'dishonoured, worthless, shut up in the bowels of the house, a dangerous dog, crying in secret' . 55hat unites these instances is a lack of human fulfilment that affects both victims and perpetrators.John Heath, therefore, seems right when he states that the Oresteia's imagery of dogs and other animals 'tells us that without the polis we live in moral chaos' .As Heath explains, the polis enables us 'to live fully human lives' , saving us from a 'world where animals and humans are inextricably and ruinously woven together' , instead providing a differentiated kosmos with 'animals, humans, and gods in their respective places' . 56It is in the absence of such a 'differentiated polis' that Orestes describes the situation in which he and his sister find themselves after the killing in terms of a fable involving eagles and vipers. 57The Oresteia's animal imagery thus seems to suggest that victims and perpetrators are united in a state of subhumanity that results from what they did or what they suffered.Being either debarred from or having actively broken with a shared communal order, they are not able to live fully human lives.
Complementary to the image of the animal is the image of the wanderer.Having likened himself to a dog, the Watchman disparages his resting place as a 'night-walker's bed, wet with dew'; 58 Electra, deprived of a father to ensure her the place in the social fabric of her household and city that she deserves, describes herself and her brother Orestes as 'wanderers' (alōmetha), having been 'sold off ' (pepramenoi) by her mother.While Electra professes to live the life of a slave, (antidoulos), 59 her brother is, 'exiled' , bereft of his inheritance (ek [...] chrēmatōn). 60Like the Oresteia's animal imagery, the image of the 'wanderer' unites those who are circumstantially victimized by the trilogy's successive transgressions with those who have perpetrated them.Having killed Agamemnon, Clytemnestra 'will be without a polis' (apopolis d' esēi) and 'without friends' (steromenan philōn), 61 with her transgressive act debarring her from the The Right and the Good in Aeschylus' Oresteia and Yael Farber's Molora: Transitional Justice between Deontology and Teleology performance of the rituals that define her normal role within the household and the city. 62Similarly, his matricide leaves Orestes a 'wandering outcast estranged from his land' (alētēs tēsde gēs apoxenos), 63 a man 'outside custom (ek-nomos) on his journey back to humanity' 64 who, having no succour from 'wandering' (errein), is reduced to a mere 'shadow' (skia) of a man. 65As Orestes' pursuers observe: 'Having spilt on the ground his mother's blood, is he then going to live in the home of his father in Argos?What altars will he use, what public altars?What phratry will admit him to its lustral water?' 66 As Silvia Montiglio acutely observes in her comprehensive study of the notion of 'wandering' in Greek culture, the wanderer has 'lost his center of belonging' . 67In fact, with the city's principal household having been uprooted, the entire community seems to disintegrate: 'statelessness' becomes the general condition.The Watchman indicates as much when he says in the trilogy's opening lines that, rather than whistling himself to sleep, he finds himself lamenting 'the misfortune of this house, which is not now admirably husbanded as it used to be'; 68 and the disintegration of the civic body is made strikingly clear when the Agamemnon's Chorus, in their confusion over the killing of their king, ceases to speak in a single voice. 69The trilogy's second play, especially, emphasizes the spreading of disfranchisement that results from the killing of Agamemnon: since there is 'enmity in the house' (echtos en domoisi), 70 the dead Agamemnon is 'not receiving his due' (atimos); 71 and consequently, the house has been visited by a dream 'which made its hair stand on end' and 'raised a cry in its deepest interior' , 72 announcing the displeasure of the dead.Clytemnestra's attempts to appease the dead are mere 'token reciprocations (charis acharitos): 73 'reverence stands aside' . 74Agamemnon's children are 'deprived of a home' (atima dōmatōn), 75 as well as of the privilege of attending Agamemnon's funeral rites; 76 and ritual order having been disturbed, there has been a 'deprivation of the father' , for which payment is due. 77Similarly, the matricide leaves Clytemnestra and her avengers 'deprived' or 'disenfranchised' (atimoi). 78t is this pervasive sense of privation that evokes in the Oresteia's characters the desire for a fulfilment that is, eventually, achieved as a result of the trial that re-instates Orestes to his father's household.The trilogy consistently figures this desire as the eager anticipation of light after darkness.The Watchman describes the stable motions of the constellations that appear among the 'thronged stars' as 'bright potentates which bring winter and summer to mortals'; 79 a paradigm of cosmic order, that serves as a foil or contrast for the statelessness in Argos.The sign that announces Agamemnon's return to Troy is described as 'bringing by night a message of light bright as day'; 80 and Agamemnon himself is hailed as 'the bringer of a common light out of darkness to the entire populace' . 81Indeed, the returning king Lukas van den Berge & Christiaan Caspers is a 'welcome light' appearing at the city gates, 82 eagerly awaited by 'the polis that craves him' . 83After Agamemnon's death, 'sunless darkness' has descended once more upon Argos' principal household, 84 with Justice (Dikē) operating in a 'no-man's-land' where light and darkness alternate; 85 and accordingly, Electra supplicates her dead father to 'kindle in the house a light' , 86 a request that the Chorus echo with their prayer for 'a man to set the house free' . 87ael Farber's Molora brings up similar themes.The drama opens with a short testimony before the TRC by Clytemnestra, the only white character of the play, who came to power in absence of Agamemnon, her black husband.In her testimony, Clytemnestra explains how she killed Agamemnon upon his return, proudly describing her deed as a 'masterpiece of justice' . 88As the play continues, however, we come to know Clytemnestra not only as a perpetrator, also as a victim.In Farber's version, Agamemnon not only slaughtered Iphigenia, but also Tantalus, her first husband ('I met your father the day he opened up my first husband / and ripped out his guts'), after which he forced her to marry him. 89Clytemnestra thus explains her horrible deed from the fact that 'we were a country at war' , in which it 'only mattered that we survived' . 90he killing of her husband, we learn, has all but set Clytemnestra free of her misery.As a victim, she lived 'with the dark figure of vengeance beneath the bed'; as a perpetrator, however, her night rest has been uprooted by the knowledge that one day, 'consequence will arrive.One dark night -unannounced at the door' . 91The life of a perpetrator, she explains, is not to be envied; it is a restless and subhuman life, in which '[t]he hounds that avenge all murder / will forever hunt you down' . 92Electra, testifying before the TRC as Clytemnestra's victim, complains of a similar lack of human fulfilment.She addresses her mother, Clytemnestra, as 'the shadow that fell on my life' , who made a 'child of her through fear' . 93In the years in which her house was ruled by her mother, she was treated like a slave, 94 locked up in her own house.As a result, Electra complains, 'no man came near her'; her womb therefore 'remained empty' , leaving her without a child. 95Years of degradation passed, in which she was 'not permitted to sit at the table' , but was 'fed like a dog' instead. 96t is clear that the protagonists in both plays live a life that Hannah Arendt would refer to as dzoë, not bios: practically the life of an animal or a plant, not in any way the fulfilled life of a true human being. 97hether this is a prepolitical state, in which the civilized order of the polis has not yet been established, or, rather, a depoliticized state, in which the polis has fallen into pieces, does not seem very relevant. 98What seems to count is rather that the characters in both plays suffer from an apolitical state, which seems to result from the social exclusion of victims on the one hand and from the active transgression of the moral order of perpetrators on the other.In Ricoeur's terms, this deprives both victims and perpetrators from the 'horizontal axis' of institutional relations with others that serves as a precondition for the unfolding of their full humanity.Or, to use Aristotle's phrase: in the absence of the true moral community of the polis, they are bound to live subhuman lives, not being able to fulfil their natural purpose as 'political animals' .In this way, victims and perpetrators in both plays are left with an unfulfilled desire, restlessly wandering around in a world in which they are bereft of any real sense of belonging.

Lukas van den Berge & Christiaan Caspers
Argive elders' (presbos Argeiōn tode), thus emphatically assuming a role in the public realm. 110She roundly asserts that the killing of Agamemnon was a deliberate, politically significant action (epraxa 'I acted'). 111illing her husband was a 'job' (ergon) well done, and the hand that did it an 'instrument of justice'; 112 she can invoke the 'fulfilled justice of [her] child, its ruin and its fury' by which she killed Agamemnon. 113gamemnon and his consort Cassandra have 'acted to their just desert' (ouk atima epraxaten). 114Now, with order having been re-established, Clytemnestra claims that her house (melathron) is free from apprehension, its hearth fire being kindled by Aegisthus as her own new consort. 115he Argive citizens, however, regard her action simply as another crime, worthy of nothing less than 'public curses' (dēmothroous t' atas). 116Having performed an act of 'severance' (apedikes, apetames), 117 Clytemnestra has alienated herself from the community whose political viability she had hoped to re-establish: in their turn, the Argive citizens declare that Clytemnestra 'will be without a polis (apopolis d' esēi)' and 'without friends' (steromenan philōn). 118Faced with the Argive citizens' refusal to accept that order is finally established, Clytemnestra realizes that her attempt to set up a real political order, in which she and her fellow citizens would both have a place, has failed; while ruling the city from the royal palace, she is practically an exile in her own city.Therefore, she and Aegisthus are driven to the mere assertion of force, so that real political 'community' (koinōnia) must yield to lonely tyrannical privilege. 119he restless search of the Oresteia's protagonists to fulfil their desire for real communal life in a well-ordered polis repeats itself in the trilogy's second play.The return of the exiled Orestes once more evokes, in his sister Electra and in the play's Chorus, an eager anticipation of the establishment of a political order; but just as Clytemnestra's killing of Agamemnon fails to bring this about, so Orestes' matricide turns out not to constitute the 'fulfilment' of justice that was eagerly hoped for.For a moment, Libation Bearers' Chorus -consisting not of Argive citizens, but of partisans of Electra and Orestes -believe that it does.When Orestes drags his mother into the house to kill her, they celebrate the restoration of the house; 120 'the light' , they sing, 'is now plain to see'; 121 and the gods of Fortune 'will take up residence again in the house' (metoikoi domōn). 122Resembling Clytemnestra's description of the slaying of her husband, the Chorus use the word 'action' (eu g' epraxas) to describe the matricide; a usage justified by their conviction that, in putting his house in order, Orestes has 'liberated the entire city of Argos' (eleutherōsas pasan Argeiōn polin). 123Like the audience, however, Orestes knows better: having spilt kindred blood, Orestes cannot simply assume command of his household. 124Instead, he is driven away from his home and his city by the Furies, leaving the Chorus in utter despair. 125

'Rewrite this ancient end'
The state of subhumanity in which Molora's protagonists find themselves is obviously reminiscent of political reality.Phrased in the words of the TRC in its final report, both victims and perpetrators of South Africa's apartheid regime showed clear scars of a 'dehumanizing past' that the Commission sought avidly The Right and the Good in Aeschylus' Oresteia and Yael Farber's Molora:  Transitional Justice between Deontology and Teleology to repair. 126As the Commission stated, '[a]partheid was a denial of a common humanity.Black people were refused respect and dignity and thereby the dignity of all South Africans was diminished' . 127Therefore, the Commission saw it as its task to restore the dignity of all South Africans, so that all 'sons and daughters of South Africa' would finally be able to 'feel truly "at home"' . 128A central concept that underlies its model of restorative justice was defined as ubuntu, understood as a relational philosophy of 'humaneness' that considers that 'people are people through other people' . 129Heinous crimes were seen as the 'antithesis of ubuntu' , leaving both wrongdoers and victims in a lonely state that is bereft of real community.In its mission to restore ubuntu, the Commission organized hearings in which victims and perpetrators were actively confronted; the public nature of these hearings served to build a shared 'public acknowledgment' of previously 'untold suffering' . 130In this way, the TRC sought to set up a newly constructed 'collective memory' that would give both victims and perpetrators their due share. 131On a more horizontal level, it tried to 'reconcile' victims and perpetrators in such a way that they could be incorporated into a new 'national unity' in which they would henceforth recognize each other as full subjects of right. 132hus, we can understand that Molora's protagonists' search for integration and fulfilment is not left to Orestes, Electra and Clytemnestra themselves, but is mediated instead by the TRC as a third party.The action of the play being entirely set in the context of a series of open hearings, the Chorus, consisting of seven black women who sing traditional Xhosa songs, represent the original audience to these hearings.Unlike the audience at the real hearings, they are initially reluctant to interrupt them.But when Orestes grabs an axe and lifts it high over his head as he prepares to kill his mother, the women of the Chorus rise and move towards him, physically preventing him to commit the matricide.Ultimately, Orestes throws away his axe in despair; Electra, however, insists on retaliation: 'Orestes: I can not shed more blood.Electra: But the Furies demand it.They cry out for more.Orestes: There is still time, sister.Walk away.Rewrite this ancient end.' 133 But Electra is not convinced by Orestes' words.She grabs the axe that Orestes has dropped and runs towards Clytemnestra.However, the women of the Chorus overpower her and rock her gently like a small child.Electra then bursts into tears.Into the microphone at the testimony table, Clytemnestra speaks the last words of the play: 'We are still only here by Grace alone.Look now -dawn is coming.Great chains on the home are falling off.This house rises up.For too long it has lain in ash on the ground.' 134 In Molora, the Chorus thus helps Orestes and Electra to 'rewrite' Aeschylus' Oresteia in a striking way.According to Farber's stage directions, Orestes and Electra even help their mother, who has fallen, on her feet again.Clytemnestra realizes that she owes her life to her former victims.Meanwhile, the Chorus prays for a common future, in which the cycle of bloodshed and vengeance is finally broken. 135Whether their wish has any chance to materialize, however, remains to be seen.

Justice?
In Aeschylus' Oresteia, a public trial is only set up in Eumenides.At the outset of the trilogy's third play, Orestes seeks refuge with Apollo, who makes it clear that his 'journey back to humanity' 136 cannot succeed without a decisive judgment -one that commands the consent of the entire Argive citizenry in a way that neither Clytemnestra's killing of Agamemnon nor Orestes' matricide could accomplish.To be sure, such an authoritative judgment can only be awarded by the joint efforts of Apollo, typically dwelling in Delphi as the religious centre of the Greek world, and Athena, who institutes a law court on the sacred 'rock of Ares' (Areo-pagos), just opposite her sanctuary on the Athenian acropolis. 137Both localities are invested with great authority.At the opening of Eumenides, for example, the priestess at Delphi recites at length the hierarchy of its tutelary deities, with Pallas Athena figuring among its most prominent ones. 138Whereas both Agamemnon and Libation Bearers open on revelations of chaos and disarray, Eumenides thus begins with an evocation of order.Divine stability is also referred to when the Athenian Areopagus is introduced.The Areopagus and its newly instituted law court are under the tutelage of the god Ares; 139 'reverence' (sebas) and 'the fear that is concomitant with reverence' (phobos syngenēs) will keep the Athenians and their court from wrongdoing; 140 and the 'citizens' (politai) are enjoined not to alter their 'customs' (nomoi). 141efore this court, Apollo serves as Orestes' spokesman, while the Furies indict him on behalf of Clytemnestra.Ultimately, the discussion about Orestes' guilt narrows down to a biological debate on the male and female contribution to human procreation.The Furies maintain that Orestes descends primarily from his mother, who 'nourished him beneath her zone' . 142Apollo contends that the female contribution to procreation is only material, with the real source of human life being only present in the seed of the man. 143Therefore, he argues that Orestes was right in being loyal to his father and not to his mother.The female parent, he argues, is in fact not really a parent, but only 'the nurse (trophos) of the newly begotten germ'; her services would merely be those of a 'stranger for a stranger' (haper xenōi xenē). 144In his commentary on the play, Sommerstein characterizes this biological argument as a 'clever and specious but fallacious piece of forensic pleading' that would not have been accepted at face value by Aeschylus' audience. 145Nevertheless, when she casts her decisive vote for the acquittal of Orestes, the goddess Athena adopts Apollo's reasoning wholesale: 'I am my father's child, therefore I shall not set a higher value on the death of a woman, when she had killed her husband, the guardian of the home (dōmatōn episkopos)' . 146his judgment of Athena, for which the conclusive argument seems to depend entirely on the supposed superiority of the male over the female, has provoked much criticism, 147 of which Froma Zeitlin's reading stands out as most influential.Zeitlin traces Apollo's 'scientific' argument to 'a whole series of antitheses' between the male and the female that, in her view, inspires the entire drama. 148The progress of justice that the Oresteia seemingly entails would in fact come down to the establishment of a male order from which all that is female has been eradicated.Apollo's view on human procreation, for example, would effectively deal with the 'human dilemma of the female in her dual role of mother (power) and wife (deference)' , thus also effectively removing 'the psychological issue from the human dilemma of a son who has killed his mother' by defining it as a problem of human nature and its place in a divine cosmology at large.The 'dynamics of misogyny' that inform such considerations, Zeitlin The Right and the Good in Aeschylus' Oresteia and Yael Farber's Molora:  Transitional Justice between Deontology and Teleology argues, strive to free man 'from the irrefutable and often anguished fact that man is from woman born' . 149s such, Aeschylus' Oresteia would help to build an ideology of professed male rationality that merely represses its subjects instead of liberating them. 150y itself, Zeitlin's critique of Athena's verdict is justified.In opposition to Zeitlin, however, we do not subscribe to a reading of the Oresteia in which the new order merely displaces or even completely eradicates the female; instead, as we will explain further below, we believe with Gerwitz that 'the system of law in Aeschylus' Oresteia incorporates the female' , with female forces maybe even acting as its 'steering spirits' . 151More importantly, perhaps, we believe that the call for kosmos out of chaos is not primarily motivated by the desire for male domination of the female, but, instead, by the heartfelt desire, shared by all protagonists, for a life in which they have stable relations with others in a well-ordered society.In order for that desire to materialize, both Orestes and the Furies acknowledge that submission to the authority of the newly instituted court of law is indispensable; in fact, they seem to recognize that the restoration of kosmos that can thus ensue is more important than the outcome of the trial. 152When he first lays out his case, Orestes concludes: 'I ask you to judge the issue of whether I did it with justice (dikaiōs) or not; however I fare in your charge, I shall be content' . 153With the ballot being even, 154 only Athena's support for the male is finally decisive. 155Accordingly, Orestes is reluctant to understand Athena's verdict as the justification of what he has done.Instead, he seems to recognize the verdict solely as the cue to his reinstatement in his father's household, counting on his community to acknowledge that he 'is an Argive again, dwelling amid his father's wealth, thanks to Athena and Apollo and to Zeus the Saviour who brings all things to fulfilment' . 156bviously, the Furies are less content with Athena's verdict.Their objections, however, are not directed at Athena's judgment or its motivation as such.Instead, they only complain that Athena's judgment leaves them 'deprived of their office' (atimos). 157Their insistence on the 'deprivation' (atimia) to which they are now subjected recalls the insistence on this word in the opening scenes of Libation Bearers; thus, we can understand that their sense of disenfranchisement threatens humanity's fulfilment in the communal context of a polis once again.For the trial to put an end to the protagonists' subhuman state, Athena's judgment in itself does not suffice.That is why, to the surprise of some commentators, 158 the acquittal of Orestes is not the climax of the play, but only marks a point halfway; in the remaining half, the goddess still has to remedy the Furies' complaint of atimia.This is a precarious task.As P.E.van 't Wout argues in her recent thesis on this subject, Athena 'cannot admit that the verdict leaves the Furies atimos and offer compensation'; to do so would threaten to reopen the conflict because it would 'imply that the court had failed to take into account the Furies' well-founded claim to recognition' .However, ' Athena cannot deny the legitimacy of the claim either' . 159thena ultimately succeeds in her task by offering the Furies a place in the polis that prevents them from 'wandering (errein) in deprivation (atimos) and estrangement (apoxenos)' , 160 instead, they can be 'landholders' (gamoroi) held in just esteem (dikaiōs timōmenos), 161 which is far from being either 'defeated' or 'deprived' . 162Athena is adamant that these boons are not offered in mere compensation for Orestes' acquittal.Instead, they are explicitly presented as crucial of what the institution of the Areopagus court and the judicial process are actually about.The 'fear' (phobos) that the Furies inspire should not be 'banned from the city' (poleōs exō balein), but, instead, be integrated with 'reverence' (sebas) in such a way that the citizens are withheld from doing wrong. 163Therefore, the incorporation of the Furies within the Athenian soil, their dwelling place within the Akropolis hill being crowned by Athena's own sanctuary, pertains to a 'veritable victory' (nikē mē kakē) 164 awarded by Athena in a politically significant action (tade egō prassō) that she performs 'out of goodwill towards [her] citizens' (politai). 165Having accepted Athena's offer, the Furies' status and character are dramatically modified; consequently, they change their name from Erinyes ('dread ones') to Semnai ('stately ones') or Eumenides ('kindly ones').
Far from being displaced or even eradicated from a male kosmos, as Zeitlin has it, the Furies are now integrated in the social fabric of the polis as 'enfranchised aliens' (metoikoi). 166As such, their cry for retribution and vengeance will no longer aim to poison the city 'with drops of venom that its soil shall not endure'; 167 instead, the Furies pray that 'no hurtful wind blow to the destruction of the trees' , while 'no scorching heat blasts the budding plants, passing the borders of its proper clime' . 168No wonder, therefore, that a sacred and festive procession of Athenian citizens, headed by Athena, accompanies the Furies' transferral to their new dwelling.While escorting the goddesses, they bear torchlight, 169 singing a song that ends with the collective cry of ololo as the mark of a festive occasion -just as Agamemnon's imminent homecoming and Orestes' matricide were crowned with such cries. 170Both the reference to 'light' and the ololo mark these events as politically significant; and whereas on the previous occasions, the action or event celebrated with this cry failed to establish the 'light' of the political, the incorporation of the Furies in the new judicial order brings the trilogy to a resounding conclusion.In a Kantian vein, one could, of course, argue with Zeitlin that justice has not been done.The participants in the procession who accompany the Eumenides to their place of belonging, however, think otherwise.Their desire for the establishment of a moral community that enables them to fulfil their telos has finally materialized.

Reconciliation?
The course of events as depicted in Farber's Molora has raised a similar debate.Other than in Aeschylus' original, in Molora the notion of grace (note the Christian capital in Clytemnestra's text that concludes the play: Grace) plays an important role.At first, the play seems to embrace the dominant discourse of 'forgiveness' and 'reconciliation' that the TRC deemed necessary to 'shut the door on the past' and to 'move on to a glorious future of a new kind of society' . 171For actively promoting this kind of discourse, the TRC has often been praised, but also, and understandably so, severely criticized.In a compelling essay, Derrida, for example, argues with Kant that any act of forgiveness serving an extrinsic goal is meaningless.In his view, the acquittal of the perpetrators, granted in exchange for their public confessions, is seriously flawed.'Le pardon' , Derrida argues, 'n' est, il ne devrait être ni normal, ni normatif, ni normalisant.Il devrait rester exceptionnel et extraordinaire, à l' épreuve de l'impossible' . 172For Derrida, the workings of the TRC have nothing to do with justice.Omitting to assign 'to each what is his' (suum cuique), the TRC would merely be an institution that seriously confuses the formation of a new national unity and the therapeutic treatment of victims and perpetrators with justice.In her dissertation on the subject, Van Weyenberg seems to follow Derrida in this, arguing that Molora offers 'little reflection' on the inherently problematic nature of reconciliation, leaving the Furies' legitimate laments unheard.Suggesting that The Right and the Good in Aeschylus' Oresteia and Yael Farber's Molora: Transitional Justice between Deontology and Teleology reconciliation is possible, in fact, Molora would not live up to the 'potential of theatre to work against the closure of reconciliation' .Therefore, Van Weyenberg regards Farber's play as essentially flawed. 173ne could, of course, argue against such objections by emphasizing that the mandate of the TRC and its policy of 'amnesty for truth' was part of the outcome of difficult negotiations that probably prevented a bloody civil war.As Tutu explains in his foreword to the final TRC Report, critics among his fellow citizens only 'have the luxury of being able to complain because [they] are now reaping the benefits of a stable and democratic dispensation' that otherwise would have been impossible. 174Moreover, one could argue that amnesty of perpetrators certainly does not mean that they are not convicted.On a theoretical level, Ricoeur makes this point in a particularly powerful fashion.Dividing the trial process into various 'structural elements' that should be distinguished from each other, Ricoeur argues that in criminal cases, the judge's verdict should be carefully distinguished from the punishment that may ensue.With a positive verdict, Ricoeur states, the guilt of the accused is legally established.His change of juridical status should, then, be seen as the performative virtue of a 'speech act that states the law in some determined circumstance' .Even if punishment is remitted, the performative force of the verdict has important effects.Already on its own accord, Ricoeur explains, it brings an end to uncertainty and chaos by instating a 'vertical axis' of moral and legal predication that recognizes some as wrongdoers and acknowledges others as victims, thus separating the parties by determining the just distance between them. 175Only in this way, we remember, can they, on the horizontal level of human relations, be ultimately united in the same human interesse of political society. 176ther than Kant, therefore, Ricoeur argues that Straflosigkeit ('impunity') does not necessarily encompass 'the greatest wrong' (das grösste Unrecht), leaving both victims and perpetrators in the subhuman state in which they they entered the trial. 177The shared acknowledgment of the victim as offended against and humiliated on the one hand and the public declaration of the accused as guilty of serious transgression on the other do not count for nothing.In Ricoeur's view, the effect of publicity can hardly be overemphasized. 178Public recognition of what has happened in the past can prevent amnesty to turn into a state of amnesia, in which all suffering and wrongdoing is wiped away from public memory for the sake of the future.Such collective forgetfulness has detrimental effects. 179Subduing the communal memory of traumatic events, Ricoeur argues, bereaves both victims and perpetrators from the cathartic experience of the mutual recognition that they need to become fully human again. 180The idea of forgiveness or pardon, amounting to real reconciliation, however, implies something else.In many ways, forgiveness and reconciliation constitute the antithesis of pardon, which, as Ricoeur explains, 'requires memory' instead of silencing the voices of the past. 181Forgiveness and reconciliation can 'deliver from the weight of debt' , so that memory is freed for future projects.Because its project, however, is to 'overlook the debt' , it can never just ignore or suppress accounts of what happened in the past. 182ather than ignoring the Furies' legitimate laments, as Van Weyenberg suggests, Farber's Molora seems to take this thoroughly into account.By way of a deus ex machina, a sudden rain of ash falls down on the characters as Clytemnestra's final testimony concludes the play.Clytemnestra, formerly white, is now blackened.'It falls softly, the residue of revenge' , she mutters. 183Clytemnestra's deeds, however, will not be forgotten; the public determination and shared recognition of her guilt, revealed to the audience of an open trial, help to curb the call for vengeance.Whether or not she is really forgiven, however, remains to be seen.Only Clytemnestra herself concludes that she owes her life to 'Grace'; both Orestes and Electra stay silent on this subject. 184The women of the Chorus, who represent the population, have The Right and the Good in Aeschylus' Oresteia and Yael Farber's Molora:  Transitional Justice between Deontology and Teleology an alternative for bloodshed and violence; on the other hand, however, it also defines 'the right' , erecting the axis of moral and legal predication that is indispensable in any legal system. 190ith justice thus requiring the mediation of an institutional third party, transcending the mere 'I' and 'you' of proximal interpersonal relations, both plays teach us that justice is opposed to vengeance as the act of procuring justice by oneself.This does not mean, however, that vengeance should be completely eradicated from justice.On the contrary: as the Oresteia teaches us, the Furies and the Eumenides are one and the same. 191In order to serve the good, justice may thus comprise a civilized form of vengeance that no longer makes 'the dust drink the black blood of the citizens' , 192 but brings 'peace to those who dwell in Pallas' city' instead. 193As a true miracle, that can never be enforced, however, reconciliation between the warring parties is not to be hoped for.Instead, we prefer to speak with Ricoeur of 'mutual recognition' , with the adversaries in a judicial conflict regarding each other as subjects of right, whose causes deserve to be heard in the court of law.As such, mutual recognition implies an emphatic choice for legal discourse over violence, thus paving the way for a sustainable peace that fosters human life instead of destroying it. 194t any rate, we believe that both Aeschylus' Oresteia and Farber's Molora clearly envision that the 'philosophical place of justice' can be found somewhere in between the deontological axis of the right on the one hand and a teleological axis of the good on the other hand.Within this scheme of justice, deontology is essential to create distance, clearly distinguishing between the parties 'mine' and 'thine' .Paradoxically, the distance that is thus created enables the judge to integrate the parties within the polis as a place in which their differences do not impede them to relate to each other. 195Of course, one may still, and with good reason, contend that the outcome in both plays is unjust, not really awarding either perpetrators or victims their due in accordance with a set of fixed rules and principles.Both Aeschylus' Oresteia and Farber's Molora, however, confront us with the pervasive desire of its protagonists for true human fulfilment, living the good life in relation to others within a well-ordered polis.With justice thus being presented as the object of an innate wish, it can be understood why they ultimately give primacy to the good over the right.In fact, we believe that the plays explain this to us in a compelling way.¶