Keep yourself updated with complimentary notifications
Just subscribe to the Life & Arts myFT Digest — sent directly to your email inbox.
The protagonist in Coriolanus, currently showing at the National Theatre in London, can be described as a fascist by today’s standards. He values very little outside of military service and resents the common people for their basic needs.
Despite this, Shakespeare does not completely condemn him. Coriolanus may not be the most beloved or poetic of his works, but it showcases the playwright’s ability to remain elusive, as John Keats termed it, his “negative capability.” To write 38 plays without revealing a specific worldview or consistent biases is a remarkable feat of artistic detachment, especially in a time when even museum exhibitions can feel preachy and contemporary fiction often delves into political topics like capitalism.
Why is art generally ineffective when it comes to politics? At best, it offers commonplace observations, such as Martin Amis’ realization in the 1980s about the existence and dangers of nuclear weapons. At worst, it can come across as overly strident or resembling the activism of a college student. Whether banal or absurd, art often lacks genuine insight, displaying a form of positive incapability.
Art and politics are almost inherently incompatible with each other
One reason for this could be that the creative process requires solitude, while politics emerges from conflicting preferences when individuals interact. Politics is inherently social, where abstract principles hold less weight compared to practical considerations. This practicality, which artists may find tedious and incompatible with their craft, dominates the public sphere.
Art and politics are therefore almost inherently incompatible with each other. Instead of criticizing artists for their political naivety, we could recognize that successful politicians, from FDR to Tony Blair, often lack rich aesthetic experiences. Conversely, political underachievers like Anthony Eden may have a more profound artistic sensibility. Ultimately, it comes down to whether one is more internally or externally oriented.
One of the few “political” artworks that captures the complexity of politics is Jacques-Louis David’s The Death of Marat. This painting by a French revolutionary depicts the assassination of another revolutionary for ideological differences, highlighting the self-destructive nature of lofty ideals and the inadequacy of simplistic good versus evil narratives. Compared to more didactic works by Goya, Picasso, or even David’s earlier pieces, The Death of Marat stands out for its nuanced portrayal of political turmoil.
Not all thought-provoking art is centuries old. For instance, the new Alan Hollinghurst novel briefly touches on Brexit before delving into hundreds of pages of timeless, masterful writing. Despite the current cultural climate’s didactic nature, revisiting classics like Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain offers a refreshing escape. Mann’s ability to explore the complexities of politics without passing definitive judgment mirrors Shakespeare’s approach, leaving room for interpretation and enduring relevance.
A clear stance may diminish a work’s lasting impact. Ambiguity often contributes to art’s longevity. Many artists, despite this, seem drawn to taking on a more opinionated, columnist-like role. This preference for non-argumentative art underscores the selfish yet compelling case for embracing ambiguity in creative expression.
Contact Janan at [email protected]
Stay updated on our latest stories by following FTWeekend on Instagram and X, and subscribing to our podcast Life and Art on your preferred platform.