LANCASTER UNIVERSITY Ethics, Politics, and Alterity in Selected Plays and Other Works by Harold Pinter Ghadeer Alhasan (BA, MA) Submitted for the award of a PhD in English Literature September, 2017 This thesis is my own work and has not been submitted in substantially the same form for the award of a higher degree elsewhere. Abstract This thesis offers a comprehensive critical examination of the intersections between Pinter’s political output – most notably his drama – and contemporary ethical thought. In order to so, I build on the recent few discussions of Pinter’s ethics by arguing that the ethical has always been a critical focus at every stage of Pinter’s work. In short, this study challenges both the earlier tendency that takes Pinter as an Absurdist and the late one that regards him as purely political. I shall then seek to explore the nexus between politics and ethics in various Pinter texts that deal explicitly or suggestively with the political. In order to so, I shall look at the question of alterity as that which structures the irreducible gap between ethics and politics in Pinter’s work. In particular, I approach the conception of otherness in Pinter in the double sense of the unknowable and that which always already inhabits the same. In either case, alterity, for Pinter, I argue, appears as a disruptive force, displacing the inclination towards hegemony, totality and sameness. In short, Pinter, I argue, does not offer a prescriptive treatise on how to overcome the ethical-political opposition; however, his plays, I would argue, glance towards a different configuration of the political, one that is grounded in an ethical responsiveness or openness towards the other. Comparatively speaking, the academic field of drama and theatre studies has been a latecomer to the growing interest in ethics that was mainly triggered by an increasing interest in the work of Levinas during the last two decades of the twentieth century. It is not until the late 2000s that a turn to ethics became manifest in theatre studies. And it is particularly this turn towards ethics within drama studies, in general, and the contemporary British stage, in particular, that sets the context for my current investigation of Pinter’s ethics. Contents Acknowledgments iii INTRODUCTION Facing the Other 1 Dramatizing the Face 5 Ethical (Re)Turn 11 Pinter and Levinas 15 Post-War Political Theatre 18 Parables of Alterity 25 Summary 30 CHAPTER 1 Identity: The Birthday Party 33 Musical Metamorphosis 38 Unfit for Life 51 Purim 63 CHAPT ER 2 Dwelling: The Caretaker 71 The ‘Room’: Performing the Uncanny 73 ‘Hostipitality’ 84 Fraternity and the Patriarch 95 The Scapegoat 104 CHAPTER 3 Waiting: The Dumb Waiter 117 Bad Faith 118 The Other 132 Law 139 Law 151 The Gift of Death 161 CHAPTER 4 Late Pinter: Theatre of Precarity 164 Rogues 166 The ‘Ungrievable’ 178 Framing the Frame 193 Useful Precarity 204 CONCLUSION Pinter and ‘the Third’ 217 The Ethico-Political 219 Hospitality 224 Bibliography 234 Acknowledgment I wish to acknowledge the University of Jordan for funding the period of my PhD study in Lancaster during which I was able to produce this thesis. My deepest gratitude goes to my remarkable supervisor, Professor John Schad, without whom this project would have never been possible. I particularly thank him for his relentless encouragement, rigorous reading and expert editing of my work, and most of all for being always available whenever I needed guidance and support. I also thank him and his kind wife, Katie Schad, for having welcomed me warmly into their home. I am also very grateful to Professor Arthur Bradley for the extremely insightful suggestions he made on my thesis, which, in particular, served as inspiration for my conclusion. I also thank him and his wife, Dr Abir Hamdar, for their hospitality, especially in my first year of the PhD. I must also thank Dr Tony Pinkney and Dr Jo Carruthers for their provocative and enriching comments on my work, as well as Joel Evans for having read my introduction and offered brilliant feedback. A very special thanks goes to Professor Keith Hanley, who has been supportive, generous, and accommodating in every possible way. I also wish to express my utmost appreciation for the Department of English and Creative Writing at Lancaster for making me feel so embraced and for involving me in their academic events. I especially have in mind Dr Mark Knight, Dr Lindsey Moore, Dr Andrew Tate, Professor Catherine Spooner, and Dr Liz Oakley-Brown. I must not forget to thank all the administrative staff for their friendliness and utmost cooperation. I am deeply indebted to my friends and former colleagues at Lancaster for their wonderful friendship, enthusiastic conversations, and emotional support: Arezoo Adibeik, Hiba Ghanem, Ahmad Qabha, Rachel White, Maria Christou, Nour Dakkak, and Muren Zhang. Thank you all. The last thanks go to my most cherished parents and beloved siblings, Hasan, Abeer, and Hadeel. I can never thank you enough for your love and tenacity which kept me motivated all along the line. Finally, I dedicate this thesis to the memory of the late Professor Rula Qawas, who facilitated the administration of my study grant. 1 INTRODUCTION Facing the Other In the past three decades, Harold Pinter scholarship has shifted its attention to the political turn in Pinter’s career, when he became more expressly engaged with the field of politics. In his last twenty-five years, Pinter increasingly focused his essays, speeches, interviews and literary readings on issues such as the first Gulf War, the NATO bombing campaign in Yugoslavia during the Kosovo War, and the West’s incursions in Afghanistan and invasion of Iraq. This interest in politics clearly fed into his later dramatic oeuvre. For example, in an interview with Nicolas Hern, Pinter confesses that his writing of One for the Road (1984) was prompted by two very particular political concerns: ‘One’, he declares, ‘is the fact of torture, of official torture, subscribed to by so many governments. And the other is the whole nuclear situation’.1 Martin Esslin identifies this play, along with Mountain Language (1988) and the dramatic sketch Precisely (1983), as the blueprint for Pinter’s later theatre – ‘[S]ince 1982’, Esslin writes, ‘his work has become entirely political, devoted to attacks on dictators who torture their subjects and civil servants who are unperturbed by the menace of a nuclear holocaust’.2 Esslin, indeed, goes on to revisit Pinter’s earlier theatre in the light of his later political output, arguing that ‘much of his earlier work was, if not on the surface, at least subtextually political’.3 Esslin is not, of course, the only critic to argue this – many having argued that the early plays explore the oppression of the individual by forces of totalitarianism, masquerading as, say, ‘the organization’ in The Dumb Waiter (1957) and The Birthday Party (1957), a ‘rest 1 Harold Pinter, ‘A Play and its Politics: A Conversation between Harold Pinter and Nicholas Hern’, in One for the Road (London: Methuen, 1985), pp. 7-24 (p. 12). 2 Martin Esslin, ‘Harold Pinter’s Theatre of Cruelty’, in Pinter at Sixty, ed. by Katherine Burkman and John Kundert-Gibbs (Bloomington & Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1993), pp. 27-36 (p.27). 3 Ibid., p. 28. 2 home’ in The Hothouse (1958), or the ‘hospital’ in The Caretaker (1959).4 As John Stokes argues, ‘Pinter’s early visions of local totalitarianism spoke directly to a constituency that, like himself, was steeped in Orwell and Kafka and the anti-fascist plays of Sartre and John Whiting’.5 And many critics trace this recurring theme in Pinter’s work to his growing up in the era of Fascism – as Francesca Coppa puts it: It is certainly tempting to read Pinter’s early plays bleakly, as narratives of sudden, hostile isolation. After all, Pinter’s background as a British Jew, growing up in the 1940s under the spectre of fascism and nazism [sic], certainly encourages such a reading. […] The largest, summarizable plot of The Birthday Party, ‘two men arrive unexpectedly and take a third man away’, is hardly ‘abstract’ or ‘absurd’ or ‘mysterious’ […] [This] plotline […] was being played out as the most utter realism throughout Europe during Pinter’s childhood and teens.6 While many critics read the classic scene of intrusion in Pinter’s early plays as some form of state-led invasion, others, like Charles Grimes, find in this intrusion a call for individual political responsibility. Grimes identifies ‘the plot’ of many of these works as ‘that of an individual who existed in a purely private sense, supposedly insulated from the larger social world, suddenly confronted with broad social and political forces, and thus called to political awareness and responsibility’.7 While Grimes’s reading accounts for the notion of political responsibility in Pinter’s early plays, it tends to represent this responsibility in polarized terms. Standing before and/ or 4 Harold Pinter, The Dumb Waiter, in Harold Pinter: Plays 1 (London: Faber and Faber, 1996), pp. 113-149 (p. 131); The Birthday Party, in Ibid, pp. 2-81 (p. 42); The Hothouse, in Ibid., pp. 189-328 (p. 214); and The Caretaker, in Harold Pinter: Plays 2 (London: Faber and Faber, 1996), pp. 5-76 (p. 53). 5 John Stokes, ‘Pinter and the 1950s’, in The Cambridge Companion to Harold Pinter, ed. by Peter Raby, 2nd edn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), pp. 28-43 (p. 31). 6 Francesca Coppa, ‘The Sacred Joke: Comedy and Politics in Pinter’s Early Plays’, in Ibid., pp. 44-56 (pp.49- 50). 7 Charles Grimes, Harold Pinter’s Politics: A Silence Beyond Echo (Madison: Fairleigh Dickenson University Press, 2005), p. 20. 3 against ‘the larger social world’, that is, the Pinterian subject, in Grimes’s view, seems to be intrinsically lone and heroic. This, though, is a view which Pinter very particularly refutes, saying: In contemporary drama so often we have a villain society and the hero individual. And a lot of people have said that about The Birthday Party. Well, it isn’t like that. These two things – the man in relation to society – both exist and one makes the other. Society wouldn’t be there without the man, but they’re both dependent on one another and there’s no question of hero and villain.8 To put this another way, for all his political awareness, Pinter is very much concerned with characters of ‘flesh and blood’, as he describes them.9 Pinter’s characters, that is, are not so much confronted with an abstract social or political reality as with very particular people – such as, the vagrant Davies in The Caretaker (1959), the ‘blind Negro’ Riley in The Room (1957), the pointedly silent ‘matchseller’ in A Slight Ache (1958), and the about-to-be- murdered ‘victim’ in The Dumb Waiter (1957). Although these characters remain elusive and indiscernible, endowed, as it were, with a radical sense of alterity, what they share in common is a profound sense of corporeal vulnerability, a basic need to be fed, sheltered, and, most importantly, not to be killed. Nevertheless, these ‘victim’ figures, for all their vulnerability, appear threatening. And it is precisely the paradox of the vulnerability of these ‘visitors’ and yet the threat they pose, I would argue, that complicates the sense of responsibility evoked in Pinter’s early plays. The vulnerability of the visitors that populate Pinter’s early plays is, in fact, mirrored by the tortured and mutilated bodies evoked frequently in his late political theatre. Note, for 8 Pinter, quoted in Michael Billington, Harold Pinter (London: Faber and Faber, 2007), p. 89. 9 Harold Pinter, ‘Art, Truth and Politics’, Nobel Prize Lecture, 2005 <http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/2005/pinter-lecture-e.html> [accessed 23 July 2017]. 4 example, how ‘the Waiter’ in Pinter’s Celebration (1999) disrupts the protected world of an up-market restaurant by evoking the brutal reality of worldwide torture – as he says: He [his grandfather] knew these people [the tortured] where they were isolated, where they were alone, where they fought against pitiless and savage odds, where they suffered vast wounds to their bodies, their bellies, their legs, their trunks, their eyes, their throats, their breasts, their balls.10 Here, of course, the vulnerability of dissident victims contrasts sharply with the comfort of the rich diners who enjoy exclusive access to food at the restaurant.11 In other words, Pinter seems to foreground how power operates at the level of corporeal life itself, and in this respect his work very much reflects Michel Foucault’s assertion ‘that the ancient right to take life or let live [has been] replaced by a power to foster life or disallow it to the point of death’.12 In his explicitly political drama, that is, the late Pinter objects to biopolitcial forces that he sees as overriding the ethical value of the human body by promoting the lives of some at the expense of others. And it is with the value of the other’s life that the late Pinter is, I argue, above all concerned. I shall, though, seek to trace the representation of vulnerable otherness in not only late Pinter but also early Pinter. 10 Harold Pinter, Celebration, in Harold Pinter: Plays 4 (London: Faber and Faber, 2012), pp. 439-508 (p. 502). Pinter’s Celebration (1999) opens in an upscale restaurant, with three affluent couples thrusting and parrying for dominance. As the tension escalates, a servile waiter bustles in to smooth things over, and, for a time, the outside world is held at bay while the restaurant sanctuary caters to every mood and whim. ‘[W]hen I’m sitting in this restaurant […] I have a sense of equilibrium’, says one of the celebrants in an epiphany moment (Celebration, p. 475). Even the restaurant staff agrees – ‘This place is like a womb to me’, says the Waiter (p. 469). ‘I prefer to stay in my womb’. The womblike cocoon of the restaurant, though, is disrupted, for a moment as the Waiter recalls the acts of torture to which the ‘people’ his grandfather ‘knew’ were subjected. By remembering the precarious condition of those victims, the Waiter seems to disturb and question the veneer of safety provided by the restaurant – as Peter Raby writes: ‘One of Pinter’s most powerful effects is his ability to introduce other places and times, and other voices, into the dramatic world he has created […] The most noticeable way, perhaps, is through memory, through the stories the characters tell, or imply, or invent’ – Peter Raby, ‘Tales of the City: Some Places and Voices in Pinter’s Plays’, in The Cambridge Companion to Harold Pinter, ed. by Peter Raby, 1st edn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), pp. 57-72 (p. 60). 11 The connection between catering, as suggested by the act of serving food at the restaurant, and power is a common motif in Pinter’s political plays. For another example, see his Party Time (1991) which I treat in more depth in Chapter Four. 12 Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality: The Will to Knowledge, trans. by Robert Hurley, 3 vols (London: Penguin, 1978 [1976]), I, p. 138. 5 Dramatizing the Face In an interview in 1985, Pinter draws a parallel between his early plays (of ‘1957-60 or so’) and his late ones by underlining their shared dramatization of the ‘abuse of authority’, an abuse that is manifested by nothing less than the physical subjugation of the other: ‘Certainly the [early] plays use metaphor to a great extent’, he says, ‘whereas in One for the Road the deed is much more specific and direct. […] You have the torturer, you have the victim. And you can see that two of the victims have been physically tortured’.13 What interests me here is Pinter’s stressing of the word ‘see’, which suggests his insistence on rendering the physical suffering of victims of torture visible on the stage. Differently put, Pinter here seems to foreground the link between the invisibility of victims of torture and the vulnerability to which they are exposed. Crucial here, I argue, is the recurrence of the figure of the ‘face’ in Pinter’s works as an important signifier delineating the vulnerability of the other. In New World Order (1991) and Mountain Language (1988), for example, Pinter seems to foreground the ‘facelessness’ of political victims by presenting us with ‘blindfolded’ or ‘hooded’ prisoners, respectively.14 In Party Time (1991), too, Pinter seems to call attention to the invisibility of the political ‘other’ by inviting the offstage prisoner, Jimmy, to come on to the stage, almost as a shadow or ghost, and directly face the audience. Pinter’s stage-directions here require ‘burn[ing]’ light to give ‘face’ to one who is, otherwise, kept ‘faceless’, and turn the visible ‘party’ of powerful people into mere ‘silhouette’.15 However, it is in One for the Road (1984) where violence against the ‘face’ of the other is most directly referred to, as the torturer, Nicolas, reveals his obsession 13 Pinter, ‘A Play and its Politics’, p. 8; Pinter’s emphasis. 14 Harold Pinter, The New World Order, in Pinter: Plays 4, pp. 271-278 (p. 271); Mountain Language, in Ibid., pp. 251-267 (p. 262). 15 Harold Pinter, Party Time, in Ibid., pp. 281-314 (p. 313).