Medea: The Tragic Trendsetter

There exists a delicately fine line between the amorous passion of love and the fiery passion of hate. Love, and the obsession and possession that can often times come hand-in-hand, causes people to go to extreme measures both for good, and for evil. In the case of Euripides’ Medea, deep and convoluted psychological afflictions lead to a most terrifying and tragic outcome of the mixture of love and hate– the murder of innocent children at the hands of their scorned mother. Written over two thousand years ago, it would be understandable if Medea’s content had fallen irrelevant by the immense passing of time. However, its themes of love, jealousy, and the ultimate revenge, help to firmly reserve its place as a timeless and, unfortunately, relatable piece of literature. 

In order to relate Medea’s themes to present times, it is first important to define the ways in which love and obsession function and drive the plot of the ancient text. Beginning, as most plays do, in medias res, Euripides begins his tale with the Nurse as she gives the reader a clear understanding of Medea’s tormented and obsessive emotional state. The Nurse provides a warning by inferring that things are unstable and that nothing is safe: “That’s when life is most secure and safe,/ When woman and her husband stand as one./ But that marriage has changed. Now they’re enemies./ Their fine love’s grown sick, diseased [...]” (19-22). In the wake of the ultimate rejection by her husband, Medea finds that her maternal love and innate nurturing are compromised and replaced with the dark and tormented thoughts of filicide: “Now she hates her children. When she sees them,/ there is no joy in her. And I’m afraid/ she may be up to some new mischief” (46-48). The nurse’s foreshadowing thoughts set up the entire play with its menacing and foreboding tone. In these first lines of the play, it is already painfully clear that Medea’s scornful rage against her husband has caused her emotions to control her brain to the point of irrational, violent behavior.

It is important to keep in mind that Medea is not solely a play about one woman’s revenge. It is about the organic and raw nature of human emotion and the complex ways in which the lines separating reason and irrationality become tragically blurred. These emotions are not restricted to the woman in the scenario, they also bleed into and infect the behavior of the man. In Medea, Jason carries a reputation of his own. Concerning plot matters, Jason has abandoned Medea and their two children in favor of another woman. Greed plays a role as the new woman is, remarkably, a woman of royalty and wealth. Placing Jason’s character aside, man, as a whole, is described by Euripides as inherently selfish: “What mortal man is not [guilty of mistreating his family]? Don’t you know yet/ all men love themselves more than their neighbors” (107-08). This is an important sentiment because, were it not for the selfish behavior of Jason, Medea would never have found herself in the position of a murderous, mother.

Unfortunately, it remains a sad fact that Euripides’ Medea and its tale of the other, more sinister side of love, still plays out in present times. The first modern-day Medea that will be discussed here is Lashanda Armstrong, a 25-year-old mother of four from Newburgh, NY.  On April 13, 2011, Ms. Armstrong loaded her four children into their minivan and proceeded to drive them, and herself, into the Hudson River. Why would a mother commit such a heinous crime? In this case, as in the story of Medea, Ms. Armstrong’s relationship with the father of three of the four children was, at best, rocky. Neighbors said that “she had loaded the children in the minivan after a vicious argument” with her significant other (Barron 11). While most mothers’ reason to live is for her children, for these modern Medeas, their livelihood and whole happiness lives and dies with their significant other. For Lashanda Armstrong, the mere thought of her partner’s betrayal lead to the most traumatic of endings. 

An important parallel between the Armstrong case and the story of Medea is the moment of agonizing remorse and guilt that the mother seems to encounter in this sensitive situation. In Medea, before actually committing the act of murder, she experiences a single moment of guilt. It seems, if just for a moment, that Medea has changed her mind and that she will not, cannot, go through with the horrendous plan she had set in motion: “Oh, my children,/ why are you looking at me in this way/ Why smile at me–that last smile of yours?/ Alas, what shall I do? You women here/ my heart gives way when I see those eyes,/ my children’s smiling eyes. I cannot do it./ Goodbye to those precious plans of mine” (1040-46). Looking into her children’s innocent eyes, Medea has a moment of maternal clarity and remorse. Ms. Armstrong had a similar moment. You see, in the Armstrong case, there was one survivor. The woman’s son, La’Shaun, 10, survived the horrific ordeal by escaping through the driver side window and swimming to the surface to get help. La’Shaun recalls his mother having a change of heart, much like Medea: “[La’Shaun said] that his mother tried to stop the tragedy that was playing out, but it was too late. Ms. Armstrong said ‘Oh, my God, I made a mistake, I made a mistake’” (Barron 10). 

Even with this moment of possible guilt and remorse aside, it remains a tragic fact that, in both cases, these women, whether fictitious or real, ultimately succeeded in their goal. La’Shaun Armstrong made it out against all odds, and against his mother’s wishes. The fundamental difference between the story of Medea and Ms. Armstrong, is that Medea left a path of murderous destruction in her wake but flew away to the safety and protection of Aegeus. Ms. Armstrong, on the other hand, killed herself along with her children. 

Another modern-day Medea worth noting is the case of Lisette Bamanga, a 29-year-old schoolteacher from New York who murdered her two children by first poisoning, drowning, and finally gassing them. Her five-year-old son and four-month-old daughter did not stand a chance after Bamanga read online that she only “needed two tablespoons of windshield wiper fluid to poison a child [...] ‘I poisoned them. That didn’t work, so I drowned them,’ Lisette Bamanga told investigators” (Cunningham 2-3). The article goes on to reveal that Bamanga decided to commit this tragic crime after learning that her NYPD officer husband had fathered a child with another woman. Cheating and betrayal rears its ugly head, once again. This 2012 case sounds eerily familiar to the Armstrong case before her, and the Medea story long before both. What ultimately drove these women to unthinkable measures was the men behind them. 

Of course, this does not excuse the behavior of these women, it only provides a semblance of rationale for an otherwise completely incomprehensible situation. In an aptly titled article, “Jealousy, How Do You Solve a Problem Like Medea,” Regina Barreca delves into the human psyche to explore the inherent human emotion which causes such acts of violence. So, why do women, how do women, murder their own flesh and blood? Jealously lies at the root of the problem. While Barreca’s article does not pertain directly to the story Euripides put forth all those centuries ago, what it does is provides a clear, psychological explanation for the actions of such women. Jealousy. Barreca notes that “jealousy isn’t governed by logic or controlled by intellect. Jealousy emerges from the most buried part of ourselves [...]” (29-30). The importance of Barreca’s words here make sense not only in Medea but also in the real-life examples that have been provided.

Both Armstrong and Bamanga acted out of passion, rage, and pure selfishness. To the world, their actions are nothing but irrational, violent, and unspeakable. However, for these women, it was only logic and reason that stood behind their actions. They firmly believed that what these heinous acts they committed were the only solution to their problems. Medea, after killing her children, finally gets the chance to speak with Jason, and to see, first-hand, the aftermath of her havoc. As Jason anguishes in utter despair over the loss of his only sons, Medea says to him: “Their mother loved them. You did not,” to which Jason responds, “And yet you killed them?” All Medea has left to say to her lover now are the painful words: “Yes, to injure you” (1393-97). 

The reason Medea holds its place today as such a true and relevant piece of literature is because of the fact that Euripides’ content plunges the depth of pure human nature. Despite the vast number of years which separates this story and our present era, human nature remains constant and unchanged. As long as the human race exists, so, too, will love, hate, jealousy, and obsession. As Shakespeare often clarified, jealously is a part of the physiology of love. When all of these things become intermixed, it has been proven time and time again that no good can come of it. While the fictional story of Medea and the real-life stories Armstrong and Bamanga will always be tragic and hard to understand, the fact remains that, because of the evil which exists within human nature, these things will most likely continue to happen in the future. As time progresses and modern technology continues to reshape our world into unrecognizable forms, Euripides will always hold a place in it. The world may change, but if human nature remains the same.

Works Cited

Barron, James. "Woman Tells of Boy's Plea for Help After 4 Drownings." New York Times 13 Apr. 2011. NY Times. 

Berreca, Regina. "Jealousy: How Do You Solve a Problem Like Medea." Psychology Today 30 July 2009.

Cunningham, Jennifer H. "Murder Mom's Internet Research Taught Her How to Kill Her Own Kids." New York Daily News 12 July 2012. NY Daily News. 

Euripides. Medea. Arlington: Richer Resources Publications, 2008.