So, if Katie Couric and Germain Greer could do it… why not Jocaste?
Unlike his scheming
wife-mother, and despite his Princely (not
the king of
I can see the feminist network in an uproar about Jocaste as a rebel against Gods, a progressive atheist, fighter for social justice and a good candidate to be Secretary of State if not the U.S. President, while this stupid Oedipus was a patriarchal oppressor, a religious fanatic for whom the search of truth was trying to figure out the will of Gods, gods who didn’t even exist. Talking about opium for the people! But such discussion is entirely off point and does not absolve Jocaste from raping her husband, screwing her son some 18 years later, and messing with his mind so he’d think that everything is just dandy.
Jocaste has been busy projecting a public image of goody-two-shoes in what is a really bad farce: she, the mother, skillfully manipulated her son into becoming her ideal husband and messed up with his mind any time he tried to find out the truth. She was a good actress and successfully fooled everyone: not even she, but only the Gods knew exactly what she was up to, and the Gods were both grossed-out and horrified.
My father? But he's dead and in his grave
And here am I who ne'er unsheathed a sword;
Unless the longing for his absent son
Killed him and so I slew him in a sense.
But, as they stand, the oracles are dead--
Dust, ashes, nothing, dead as Polybus.
JOCASTA: Say, did not I foretell this long ago?
OEDIPUS: Thou didst: but I was misled by my fear.
JOCASTA: Then let it no more weigh upon thy soul.
OEDIPUS: Must I not fear my mother's marriage bed?
JOCASTA: Why should a mortal man, the sport of chance,
With no assured foreknowledge, be afraid?
Best live a careless life from hand to mouth.
This wedlock with thy mother fear not thou.
How oft it chances that in dreams a man
Has wed his mother! He who least regards
Such brainsick fantasies lives most at ease.
OEDIPUS: I should have shared in full thy confidence,
Were not my mother living; since she lives
Though half convinced
I still must live in dread. (Translated by F. Storr,
Harvard University Press, Cambridge,
MA and William Heinemann Ltd, London, 1912)
And so, Jocaste counsels her son that his fear to marry his mother is but a boyish “brainsick fantasy,” although she knows that he’s living it, but does not want him to wake up. In other words, the poor sap is screwed both in bed and in his mind. He’s mystified by the riddle before him, but does not know yet that his wife is yet another sphinx.
The Jocaste Compex in psychology is the sexual desire, usually latent, that a mother has for her son (or sons.) Usually, she is a domineering and intense woman, maybe a control freak, having many manipulative designs for her son, not necessarily leading to incestuous sex, but certainly raping his mind. It may assume the form of an intense “love” that an affect-starved mother has for her son. It may assume the form of extreme manipulation of her son to use him as a weapon in her power struggles with her husband and family. The Jocaste compex situation is often accompanied by an absent father figure, or father who is weak or conveniently removed from the picture with the help of a family court, or by other means. You can see this kind of relationship in the 2004 movie The Manchurian Candidate, where mother (Meryl Streep) makes her son (Liev Schreiber) into “her kind of man” by inserting implants into his brain, now a man whom she passionately kisses on the lips, whom she completely controls and turns into an obedient Zombie, her killer robot.
Such motherhood is usually accompanied by sociopathic tendencies, inability to differentiate right from wrong, and often yet another “feminine” quality – incredible cunning in deceiving and manipulating everybody, as did the fictional crime novel writer Catherine Tramell (Sharon Stone) in the 2006 movie Basic Instinct 2, the sequel.
Not surprisingly, the
feminist pedophile Germaine Greer, now a 72-year-old Australian-based
“Freud is the father of psychoanalysis. It has no mother.”
Not surprisingly, Greer, an icon of the contemporary feminism, described herself in 1970’s as “an anarchist communist… close to Marxism,” continued to self-identify as an anarchist or Marxist throughout her life, and was rewarded by an illustrious teaching career at the University of Sydney, received Commonwealth Scholarship to pay for her Ph.D. at the all-women Newman College at Cambridge University, was appointed the director for the Center of the Study of Women's Literature at University of Tulsa, Oklahoma (1979), and was also editor of the Amsterdam underground magazine “Suck,” in which she published a full-page nude photo of herself: “stripped to the buff, looking at the lens through my thighs,” as she described. Greer remarked that “cunt” was still one of the few remaining words in the English language with a genuine power to shock (she and her kind use the effects of shocking the audiences generously and skillfully to advance their careers, but in her case at least the word is also an ample description of her essence as a person, as well as the part of her body with which, as she described, she looks at the audience.)
But back to our story, in
which Oedipus believes he can escape the divine prophecy. As he will soon
learn, he actually lacked the true insight and capacity for introspection to
even understand the prophecy, let alone escape it. To use an old cliché, he is
a “good” man (read: unsuspecting, clueless, easily-manipulated man.) He is a
good son: to protect his “parents” against himself, he refuses to become the
king of the neighboring
Jocaste has now performed her “fertility dance” – she mothered 4 children by Oedipus. From a miserable bitch terrorizing the courtiers, she turned into a purring love kitten, putting on a show of being an ideal mother, as well.
Life was pretty darn good
for a while in the old kingdom of