New Zealand’s sad, silly rejection of Shakespeare
“Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.” So says Apemantus to the title character in the William Shakespeare play “Timon of Athens.” He might also direct his insult at New Zealand’s arts council. After 30 years, it has chosen to end government funding for Shakespeare in Schools, a program in which students interact with the Bard’s works through acting, directing, costume design and other creative forms of engagement.
Among the reasons for not renewing the grants, Creative New Zealand said the Shakespeare program did not adequately defend its relevance in “the contemporary art context” and focuses on “a canon of imperialism.” This bow to political correctness infects much more than Creative New Zealand. It sweeps across much of the West, including the education system of the United States.
The rejection of the Bard is sad and silly. Shakespeare wrote and performed in a particular time: the late 16th and early 17th centuries. He did so in a particular place: the England of Queen Elizabeth I and King James I. This particularity is unavoidable and gives us a beautiful window into the past. But do not make the mistake Creative New Zealand made — Shakespeare is also for the world. His greatness stems not from his time and place but from how his works have transcended both.
For English speakers, Shakespeare wrote in perhaps the greatest era for beauty and influence on our native tongue. This general time frame also saw the creation of the Church of England’s Book of Common Prayer in 1549 and the King James Bible in 1611. Shakespeare’s corpus stands alongside these works in the majesty of its poetry and impact on subsequent English speakers. The Bard is credited with introducing 1,700 words into English usage, including “bedroom,” “critic” and even “puppy dog.” His turns of phrase still fill our speech as well, from going on a “wild goose chase” to “wearing my heart on my sleeve” to “love is blind.”
But Shakespeare’s enduring influence doesn’t end merely with the countries that share his language. The themes he took up are universal. They translate through time, across continents, and penetrate all communities.
They narrate the culture-crossing feeling of love: “Romeo and Juliet” tackles the disastrous follies that can attend young romance. “Measure for Measure” teaches the importance of marriage, not only for the people involved but also to fulfill the needs of their society. “Antony and Cleopatra” explores the way genuine but deeply flawed lovers can destroy themselves and those they adore. Shakespeare’s love stories immerse the reader within the full expanse of experience and feeling. Indeed, one may find a story like their own was adapted for the stage.
Shakespeare also displays the travails of politics. “Coriolanus” tackles intense, class-based partisanships within a political community. “Richard II” delves into intricate debates over the divine right of kings. “The Merchant of Venice” addresses the role of law and its relation to community and mercy. “Macbeth” showcases the way ambition can beget murder and tyranny. As he does with love, Shakespeare encapsulates the fundamental questions politics poses — from who should rule to the nature of a just society, from questions of what holds a community together to the role of God in political life.
Shakespeare doesn’t stay neatly within the gender expectations of his time either. His Beatrice in “Much Ado About Nothing” shows wit and fierceness befitting — really, surpassing — any feminist-inspired romantic comedy of today. And in “As You Like It,” a woman educates a man in how to be a good husband.
Though accused by Creative New Zealand of being within “a canon of imperialism,” Shakespeare’s history plays show the problems that attend grandeurs of empire, oppressing the conquered and eventually degenerating the conquerors. “Othello,” moreover, takes a hard look at the difficulties attending a Black man trying to live a full life — as a lover, citizen and soldier — in a predominantly white society.
Shakespeare’s universality manifests in different cultures making use of his stories. There is a Hindi adaptation of “Othello” and a Chinese one of “Hamlet.” Japanese director Akira Kurosawa stands among the 20th century’s greatest interpreters of Shakespeare. His films “Throne of Blood,” “The Bad Sleep Well” and “Ran” transferred the stories of “Macbeth,” “Hamlet” and “King Lear,” respectively, into the context of Japanese history and culture. These uses are every bit a legitimate — even integral — part of Shakespeare’s interpretation, adaptation and appropriation.
It’s a shame that New Zealand’s arts council apparently can’t see these truths. In the name of political correctness, it has shortchanged New Zealand students of a precious heritage. Not only that, but by rejecting that heritage, the council also risks forfeiting the benefits current and future generations can glean from Shakespeare’s works. It thereby diminishes the rightful role of one of the greatest wordsmiths and storytellers ever to live. We would be fools to follow.
Adam Carrington is an associate professor of politics at Hillsdale College in Hillsdale, Michigan.
