Hendrick Goltzius’ Depiction and Acceptance of Flawed Masculinity in The Great Hercules

Abstract

Overcoming the initial shock of the “bulbous man”, Hendrick Goltzius’ The Great Hercules has been subjected to much scrutiny questioning his intent in conveying the mythological Greek hero, Hercules, in such an absurd, exaggerated manner. At one point thought to have been an anatomical diagram of the human body, this claim is refuted through a comparison of Goltzius’ work with other anatomical texts of the time. A more plausible interpretation is made regarding the piece as embodying the political unity behind the idea of Body Politics that was urgently pursued during the Dutch Revolution. Nonetheless, an argument that has been consistently ignored, is Goltzius’ reflection on flawed masculinity, which both Hercules and Goltzius himself are characterized by. For Hercules, this comes in the form of ill-controlled vices (wrath and lust) and homoeroticity; for Goltzius, this comes in the form of compromised mental and physical health. Hence, as much as The Great Hercules is a promotion of political unity, it is also a self-reflection of Goltzius’ lacking masculinity, as well as an acceptance of the flawed masculinity that both Goltzius and Hercules embodies.

Introduction

Hendrick Goltzius was born in early February of 1558 in Mülbracht (present-day Bracht), Germany. Several members of his family on the paternal side were artists.^[1] Though having had such figures of artistry in his childhood, Goltzius’ aptitude for drawing and the arts were not fully explored until he started an apprenticeship under the engraver Dirck Volckertsz Coornhert in 1574.^[2] Prior to this, his childhood had been full of misfortune and disasters. At about one-year-old, young Goltzius suffered severe burns to both hands when he accidentally fell into the hearth. Though they were quickly treated by a neighbor woman, the tendons of his right hand had fused so that he would never be able to fully straighten them again.^[3] However, this tragedy did not stop the high-spirited Golztius from pursuing the arts. People would even later argue that his maimed hand had contributed to his masterful engraving. Goltzius himself certainly drew on this physical deformity as a source of empowerment, relating it to the mutilated right hand of Christ and illustrating the deformity in detail (see Figure 1).^[4]

Coornhert was a well-known humanist and political figure. His unorthodox Catholicism and tendency towards tolerance and reason as a remedy for religious fanaticism and other extremes would be reflected in much of Goltzius’ own ideals and works. It is also under his influence that Goltzius would learn the trades of engraving and printing, be inspired by various Dutch art and artists, and finally settle in Haarlem, Netherlands.^[5]

Goltzius’ The Great Hercules (also known as “Knollenman or bulbous man”;^[6] see Figure 2) is often analyzed for its extreme musculature and embodiment of the heroic ventures of Hercules, as is most completely recounted by Ovid. Born of Jupiter and a mortal woman, Hercules continuously faced an “unending series of labours”^[7] from the jealous Juno. One of his most well-known tales was when Juno subjected Hercules to a fit of maddening rage, killing all of his children and (in some renditions) his wife Megara, the daughter of the King Creon of Thebes. He continued in this rage until Athena knocked him out with a stone. Overcome with grief over what he had done, he sought to commit suicide. His cousin, Theseus, would instead convince him that a suicide would be too cowardly. To atone for his sins, Hercules consulted the Oracle at Delphi, who informed him that he must follow the orders of his cousin, Eurystheus, King of Tiryns and Mycenae. Eurystheus would devise the series of twelve labors that Hercules is most famously known to have accomplished.^[8]

The myth of Hercules’ twelve labors is both directly and indirectly depicted in The Great Hercules: Hercules’ fight with Achelous in the form of a bull on the left (see Figure 3); Hercules’ fight with Antaeus on the right (see Figure 4); the horn from Achelous that is held in Hercules’ right hand (see Figure 5); another horn that is being filled with flowers by the nymphs in the back (see Figure 6); and on Hercules’ back drapes the skin of the Nemean lion (see Figure 2). The exaggerated manner in which Goltzius depicts Hercules’ musculature and hearty face has been subjected to much debated analysis. The almost grotesquely elaborated features of Hercules are even more astounding when seen in person, especially taking into account the massive size of the piece (55.5 cm x 40.4 cm) which overwhelms its viewers with its intricate details. As much as this piece has been analyzed through the lens of anatomical representation and embodiment of political unity of the Netherlandish towns and provinces during the Dutch revolution, it deserves more attention as a discussion of masculinity and its various flaws. This paper will explore the above claims with regards to The Great Hercules, the flaws of Hercules as a manifestation of the ideal masculinity, and how Goltzius saw himself reflected in his amplified version of Hercules.

Arguments for an Anatomical Representation

As one of the three creators of the Haarlem Academy,^[9] it is very likely that Goltzius was influenced to some extent by his two partners: Cornelis Cornelisz van Haarlem, who had turned to the study of anatomy at one point;^[10] and Carel van Mander, who had explicitly stated that he established the academy with the intent to “study from life.”^[11] Scholars have even described The Great Hercules as “an accurate, if exaggerated, demonstration of anatomy.”^[12] However, the extremity to which each muscle and tendon is illustrated in Goltzius’ print disproves this argument.

Vesalius’ De humani corporis fabrica (1543) was a significant text produced in the 16th century on human anatomy. It especially stood out amongst other texts with its woodcut illustrations that would set the standard for future anatomical observations.^[13] The text was also widely known and accessible to people in Haarlem. The anatomical illustrations in this text (see Figure 7) counters the notion that Goltzius’ Hercules was depicted with any anatomical accuracy in mind. Not only are certain muscles and tendons absent, but many are erroneously drawn or simply drawn too many of.^[14] As such, Goltzius likely “knew the human body well”^[15] enough to accurately depict Hercules’ anatomy, or at the very least had access to resources that can help him do so, but had deliberately chosen not to. Hence, rather than a simple anatomical depiction, the unique musculature of Hercules must have other implications.

Arguments for a Political Allegory

In light of the Dutch Revolution against King Philip II of Spain during the mid to late 16th century, or what is better known as the Eighty Years’ War, the political allegory in The Great Hercules seem to have substituted the mythical monsters that Hercules faced in his twelve labors with the contemporary tyrant.^[16] Tyranny was seen as a disease of the Body Politic, an analogy implied in Vindiciae contra tyrannos (1581), an important text of Protestant political thought. Hercules was also praised within this text as the remedy against tyrants, “because he pu∣nisht and tam’d Procrustes, Busiris, and other Tyrants, the plagues of man kind, and monsters of the earth”.^[17] Several pieces of evidence support that Goltzius acknowledged such ideas in The Great Hercules. First, Vindiciae contra tyrannos was summarized in Dutch by Francis Coornhert, the brother of Goltzius’ mentor, in 1586–three years before Goltzius’ creation of The Great Hercules. Much of Gotlzius’ political thought stemmed from his mentor, hence Goltzius may have been directly or indirectly influenced by the text. Second, the tobacco plant in the lower left corner of The Great Hercules was a widespread remedy for sickness and injury at the time. Goltzius himself would later seek tobacco as a possible remedy for his poor health, cited by van Mander as one of Goltzius’ reasons for his later trip to Italy.^[18] Hence, if tyranny was a disease, then the tobacco plant was a symbolical remedy, more accessible than the ideal remedy of the mythical Hercules. Third, for Achelous in his bull form, his horns were undoubtedly his source of strength and power. By removing these from Achelous (see Figure 5), Hercules triumphs over Achelous and transfers the power back to the tyrant-killer, or the Body Politic.^[19] From these horns also developed the first cornucopia, which nymphs joyously fill with flowers in the background of the piece (see Figure 6). This symbolizes the prosperity that the Dutch had envisioned regaining as a result of the revolution.

The depiction of Hercules himself also has Dutch implications. Most notably are the hearty face and bushy, droopy mustache.^[20] These characteristics are present in almost every Dutch male portrait that Goltzius has engraved. An example can be seen in his portraiture of Jan van Duvenvoorde, Lord of Warmond, one of the leaders of the Dutch revolution (see Figure 8). Furthermore, The Great Hercules’ “profusion of relatively small muscles can be compared to the many provinces and towns mustered together in defense of the nascent Republic.”^[21] Not only was the idea of Body Politics heavily favored during the Renaissance, but it was seen as a necessity for persevering through the Dutch Revolution–as much as the Dutch had to fight against the Spanish, they also had to prevent internal turmoil. Hence, a sense of urgency for political unity was more present than ever before. The way in which an individual’s muscles, tissues, and tendons harmoniously work together for a functional body, is synonymous with the way in which the dispersed multitude of Netherlandish towns and provinces must work together to achieve the greater goal of independence for the singular Dutch nation. The anatomical anomalies present in The Great Hercules not only embodies this need, but also recognizes how difficult and absurd the idea may seem to the very towns and provinces that are trying to maintain their own distinct political identities.

It appears undeniable that The Great Hercules was a strong political allegory pushing for the unity of the Dutch nation. However, the way in which Goltzius has chosen to depict such political matter is intriguing, if not altogether questionable. At first glance, it is rather difficult to associate the exaggerated physique of the hearty “bulbous man” with any serious matter, nonetheless a historical revolution that was the cause of misery and casualties for thousands of people during Goltzius’ time. Though engraved at much later times, Goltzius is certainly capable of engraving more serious depictions of Hercules, as shown in his Farnese Hercules (see Figure 9) and Hercules and Cacus (see Figure 10). The former was based on the actual statue that Goltzius saw during his trip to Rome and exemplifies a sense of grandeur, majesticness, and elegance, despite its also exaggerated muscles. The latter focuses less on the two subjects and instead encapsulates the tense atmosphere within the blood, dirt, grime-filled scene of violence. For The Great Hercules, however, even upon further inspection, one must be able to look past the grotesquely crowded and plentiful hairs and muscles to actualize the idea of the Body Politics that was the hope for Dutch prosperity. The massive scale of the artwork further challenges the viewer to do so in person, as each disturbing detail is magnified and forces themself into the vision field of the onlooker. Hence, more than just an embodiment of hope and the Body Politics, The Great Hercules also embodies a reflection of masculinity as a prized, yet flawed, societal attribute.

Hercules as the Prized Embodiment of Masculinity

Masculinity has historically always been seen as the prized counterpart to femininity. In art history and art critiques in particular, “feminist analysis has shown that constructions of artistic masculinity often depend on inferior views of women that contribute to their exclusion from the profession.”^[22] One such example lies in the distinction between portraiture and history paintings. Van Mander sketched his ideal image of the “artistic hero”^[23] in Goltzius, someone who was able to achieve the highest form that one could strive for in art: a history painter. This was a genre of artistic story-telling and narration that required “powers of invention”^[24] and originality. Portraiture, while requiring some skill, is seen as something that “would cut off the road to the higher plane.”^[25] And since women were deemed as “absolved of the necessity for true creativity”,^[26] portraiture was seen as the “appropriate” genre for women artists. Though Goltzius has also engraved many portraits, van Mander takes special care in his biography of Goltzius to stress several times that “the artist painted portraits for his own amusement”^[27] rather than out of commission. Whether or not this was true, van Mander’s handling of this matter puts power into Goltzius’ hands with regards to artistic talent and expression, that arguably women artists of the time did not have.

Credit to the mythological tales and heroic descriptions of Hercules, he “canonically embodied Virtù Heroica, able to moderate anger, temper avarice and subordinate pleasure under the rule of reason”.^[28] This closely ties into Hercules’ representation as the Body Politic, where the people ideally unite together under reason, each in control of their innate desires and vices for the greater good. Further, the demigod is typically depicted as “muscular, confident, […] posed in a contrapposto stance, implying movement, an ephebe or adult man of glorious bodily beauty and alertness”.^[29] Though The Great Hercules is perhaps an exaggerated version of this, it nonetheless puts its viewers in awe at Hercules’ physique and musculature. As unnatural as the muscles may appear to be, they undoubtedly can only be achieved under enormous amounts of work. All of these qualities amounted to Hercules being the ultimate masculine figure within western society and classical myths.

Weakness to Masculinity–Femininity

Depicted through the tales of Hercules, each misfortune that he encountered (that were not necessarily caused by himself) was tied to a female figure. Juno, out of jealousy towards the illegitimate conception of Hercules, subjected him to fits of madness that led to sinful acts of killing. After the twelve labors, Hercules ideally could have spent the rest of his life in peace. However, his killing of Prince Iphitus of Oechalia meant that Hercules would go on to atone for this sin by enslaving himself to Queen Omphale of Lydia. While a property of Omphale, Hercules was made to dress in women’s clothing and do needlework with the other women of the court. Omphale would beat him for “leaving too many knots or for breaking the threads with that hard hand”.^[30] Eventually Omphale would take him as her lover and free him. During this stage of his journey, Hercules was subjected to the most feminine role that he would ever partake in–a passive object that belonged to Omphale.

The final end to Hercules’ life was brought on by his infatuation with Iole and the subsequent jealousy of Deianira. Afraid that Hercules would adore Iole more than her, Deianira soaked Hercules’ best shirt with the blood of Nessus.^[31] Some versions describe Deianira as being tricked into thinking that the blood was a love potion; others say that she knew about the poison and had deliberately sought to kill Hercules. Either way, this resulted in the mortal death of Hercules (while his immortal part rose to join the Gods). In each of these tales, the female figures embody femininity as a series of vices, particularly in the forms of jealousy and lust/seduction. Boccacio’s Famous Women warned about such enslavements of Hercules by stating that “passion has to be restrained with continual effort”.^[32] This idea is similarly embodied by the physique of The Great Hercules, as all muscles appear to be contracted and engaged simultaneously and persistently–expressing literally, the constant struggle of preserving masculinity.

Hercules as a Flawed Form of Masculinity

However, the perception of Hercules as solely a “revival and celebration of virtuous citizenry or exemplary rulership”^[33] adamantly ignores Hercules’ constant failure to regulate his own temperaments. For the Greeks, the Greek gods and mythical beings mainly served as explanations of natural events and embodiment of various character tropes for entertainment and/or life lessons. While Hercules shows considerable courage and strength in his triumphant victories throughout his twelve labors, he also demonstrates, several times throughout his life, the embodiment of vices, especially those of wrath and lust.

Juno’s initial subjection of Hercules to a fit of madness (which led to Hercules killing his children) can be seen as the Greeks’ explanation for an individual’s unexplainable act of rage. In this sense, Hercules is flawed in his inability to control this sudden emotional vice. Additionally, Hercules’ first response to his sinful act was not to redeem himself in any form, but rather of suicide. In the late 16th century of western Europe, suicide was generally held as the cowardly “violation of the duty of self-preservation [caused by a] moral weakness”.^[34] Hence, even if the initial fit of madness can be completely blamed on the jealous Juno, Hercules’ inability to reasonably respond to grief strays from the ideal level-headed masculine figure. Hercules’ later acts of rage are also often credited to be due to his own temperaments. Hercules’ killing of the Prince Iphitus of Oechalia was one such act, which resulted in Hercules being enslaved to Queen Omphale.^[35] As much as one can commend Hercules for seeking to atone for his sins, it is also undeniable that he committed the sinful acts in the first place. For this particular scenario, it may even be argued that in acting as the vehicle for Hercules to atone for his sin, Queen Omphale, though a feminine figure who subjected Hercules to feminine acts, restored the moral masculinity of the heroic Hercules.

Another act of sinful killing includes when Hercules accidentally killed his father in-law’s cupbearer. Even if this was not necessarily an instant of rage, it was certainly an incident of grave carelessness, which resulted in the cost of another individual’s life. Even in Hercules’ venture to revenge upon Augeas, who refused to honor his deal when Hercules removed the dung from Augeas’ stables,^[36] it can be argued that it was due to Hercules’ rashness that ultimately led to his defeat and humiliation. In this battle, Hercules was still weakened from his prior engagement with the Titans. If he had the patience to seek revenge at a later time, perhaps the outcome would have differed. Note as well, there is a magnified focus on the heroic accomplishments of Hercules as a characteristic of masculinity. However, these very same heroic ventures were the cause of Hercules’ neglect towards familial duties. Sophocles describes from Deianira’s perspective of being in constant fear and anxiety for Hercules, and even though they had children, “he, like a farmer who has taken over a remote piece of ploughland, regards only when he sows and when he reaps”.^[37] Always sent “away from home in servitude to a certain man”,^[38] Hercules pursues the heroic trope of masculinity while neglecting the familial duties associated with humane masculinity. Within the western society, though it was not expected for men to be directly involved with the internal details of the household, there was still a certain honorability held for the men who took care of their family.^[39]

Goltzius was especially in tune with the ways in which humans are prone to fall to avarice vices. He explores this theme in his depiction of Danaë (see Figure 11). The myth of Danae has been drastically interpreted in various ways, from “innocence and chastity [to] prostitution and avarice”.^[40] For his piece, Goltzius paid special attention to Danae as a subject of both money and sexual stimulation.^[41] Surrounded by gold accessories, Danae lies demurely asleep while a yellow diaphanous veil is strategically placed with her right hand. A cupid in the background unmistakably holds a bag of gold coins in a suggestive manner of the male genitalia. All of this symbolism serves to indicate the power that wealth and gifts hold in accomplishing anything, “due to the power of insatiable avarice”.^[42] As his first work within the realm of painted female nudes, Goltzius deliberately chose Danae (and the inclusion of Hermes in the background) to play a witty effect on the sense of sight, which Goltzius sees as an especially powerful tool when involving the arousal of love and lust.^[43] Hercules’ final fall to his death was arguably due to his sense of sight–particularly that which resulted in lust. While each deity and mythical beings in Greek mythological often engaged in lustful polyamarous interactions, they were also sufferers of jealousy and avarice in wanting the sole loyalty of another person. Hence, Hercules’ taking in of Iole as his concubine ignited the jealousy and worry of Deianira, which brought about Hercules’ final fall. Ironically, it was also Hercules’ love at first sight of Deianira that had originally resulted in their marriage. In either of these cases, sight plays a central role in attraction, which amounts to an idea of “love” that may be more accurately described as simply lust.

Homoeroticism in Hercules

Not only was Hercules subjected to vices of wrath and lust, but he was also a debated subject of homoeroticism. This is a further deviation from the idealized masculinity, which tends to limit itself to heterosexual romantic and/or sexual relationships only. Most famed is Hercules’ attraction towards Hylas. Theocritus describes that Hercules “loved a boy, the graceful Hylas who still wore his hair long [and] just as a father teaches his dear son, he taught him all the knowledge that had made him fine and famous himself”.^[44] As described previously by Sophocles, Hercules rarely demonstrated such affection, not even to his wife and children. Whether this relationship was purely that of a “father and son” or if it had homoerotic tendencies is debated. As Hercules’ arm bearer and the reason why Hercules left the Argonauts (in order to search for Hylas, who had been kidnapped by naiads), it is very plausible that their relationship ran much deeper. Panormita’s Hermaphroditus (1425) certainly interprets their relationship in a very sexual way and establishes Hercules’ role as the sodomizer.^[45] Note that even in homoeroticism, Hercules embodies a sense of “masculine domination and suppression”^[46] with his age, physique, and experience overpowering the young Hylas.

Another homoerotic interaction that Hercules has constantly been depicted as engaging in, is his fight with Anteaeus. As the son of Gaea, the Greek goddess of the earth, Anteaeus gains enormous amounts of continuous strength as long as he is in contact with the ground. Noticing this, Hercules “holds Antaeus sore pressed by the grip of his hands”^[47] and crushes Antaeus to death in an embrace that lifts him up in mid-air. Various artworks have depicted this scene in a rather homoerotic way. Most notably is Antonio del Pollaiuolo’s Hercules and Antaeus, presented as both an oil painting (see Figure 12) and a bronze sculpture (see Figure 13). The artworks follow a pattern of strain between the two figures facing each other. Antaeus has long been “understood to personify lust”^[48] and his physical juncture with Hercules in these artworks occur at Antaeus’ genital site and seemingly on the chest of Hercules. The added aspects of thrashing limbs, tensed muscles, arched backs, and partial nakedness all contribute to a moment of high intensity and allude to a sexually-tinted engagement.

The homoeroticism between Hercules and Antaeus is even more explicitly depicted in Circle of Baccio Baldini or Maso Finiguerra’s Hercules and Anteaus (see Figure 14). In a rather unique composition of back embrace by Hercules of Antaeus, the former is illustrated as a fully bearded, mature adult, while the latter appears as a hairless youth. This dichotomy further emphasizes Hercules’ masculinity, as is also depicted by Hercules’ slightly bigger physique: Hercules is the “active (agens)” in the sodomy and Anteaus is the “passive (patiens)” or womanly one.^[49] Anteaus, with his flailing arms, a right leg that seems to wrap around Hercules’ right leg, and the positioning of his genitals between the legs of Hercules, appears to have “merged at the physical source of lust”^[50] with Hercules. At this point, Hercules is battling vice in the forms of both physical and sexual union. Even in this intimate union, the piece attempts to establish the masculinity of Hercules by having him be the one in control (standing on ground) and covering his facial expression with Anteaus’ hair. Whether or not there is passion in Hercules during the interaction, in the form of fury or sexual arousal, is hidden from the viewer. Nonetheless, the depiction of Hercules as having homoerotic tendencies not only adds onto his vice of lust, but also deviates his behavior from the idealized masculine figure.

Goltzius’ Self-Reflection on Weakened Masculinity

As much as van Mander may have tried to emphasize the artistic masculinity of Goltzius, Goltzius was compromised in his masculinity from birth. At age 21, he married the 30-year-old widow Margretha Grietgen Jandsdr, also taking her son, Jacob Adriaensz Matham, under his wings. It is unsure why, but Goltzius never had any children. Part of it may have been due to his constant suffering from a weakened state of health. The later years of Gotlzius were plagued with a chronic “wasting illness” with bloody coughs and a “humoural imbalance (melancholy) that he failed to control”.^[51] This idea of a “lack of control” further contributes to the portrayal of ideal masculinity as that of reason and self-discipline. Van Mander attributed much of Goltzius’ illnesses to Anna Fullings, Goltzius’ mother. It was never noted what illnesses she suffered, but Fullings was constantly sick throughout Goltzius’ life. From the very beginning, she was too sickly to produce enough milk, an essential source of nutrients for infants. To what little milk she did produce, van Mander credits the inheritance of Goltzius’ weak mental and physical health, as early medical traditions believed the female milk to be responsible for the passing on of traits.^[52] Van Mander also credited some of Goltzius’ illnesses to his marriage, having strongly disapproved of young artists marrying to older wives, nonetheless an older widow.^[53]

Notably, van Mander depicts Goltzius’ father, Jan Goltz II, in a much more positive light. Due to not being financially successful, there were many hardships that came with having a poor family background that equally contributed to Goltzius’ poor health (e.g. being unable to afford a wet nurse who can supply breastmilk). However, van Mander also credited Goltzius’ father, who was a glass painter, as having nurtured Goltzius’ love for art. And in doing so, his father fulfilled a compensating role for Goltzius’ lack of maternal nourishments. Van Mander especially viewed the passage of artistry from father to son as instrumental in Gotlzius’ artistic journey and development.^[54]

Though Goltzius seemed to have suffered from various deficiencies, he never felt dejected in his craft. Even when his physical and mental health had declined, and his assistant/stepson went away to establish his own business, Goltzius’ workshop was still able to produce a steady supply of prints.^[55] And though he lacked the physical and mental health that Hercules embodied, Goltzius was characterized by the modesty and humility that would have been the perfect remedy for Hercules’ ill-controlled temperaments, much of which were likely due to his own pride and ego (e.g. his rash revenge on Augeas).

One of Goltzius’ most famous incognito accounts, as told by van Mander, describes how Goltzius was disguised as a Cheese merchant while his servant explained Goltzius’ artworks to Johannes Sadeler, the engraver to the Bavarian court who had invited them. The only time that Goltzius talked during the visit was to promise Sadeler’s wife that he would send her some cheese from Holland–a promise that was well kept. Such anecdotes illustrate Gotlzius’ wit and inventiveness. His liking for disguise and mimicry carried over to his art, as van Mander described Goltzius as “a rare Proteus”.^[56] Proteus was a sea god who could change himself into any form; Goltzius was well known to have been able to mimic the styles of various artists through his engravings. Goltzius continued to travel discreetly throughout Rome, often under a pseudonym. He seemed to have “an aversion to flattery, self-awareness and–easily hurt–pride”,^[57] and often took the opinions of others to heart, even from the most ignorant of viewers.

Conclusion: Goltzius’ Acknowledgement of Hercules’ Inadequacies

Though Hercules is rather flawed as an embodiment of masculinity, Goltzius seems to have embraced these flaws in parallel to his own deficient masculinity. Anteaeus’ gaining of strength from Gaea is representative of maternal nourishment, which Goltzius lacked. Much like how Hercules weakened Antaeus by lifting him off of the ground, Goltzius was described by van Mander to have been weakened by the lack of sufficient milk from his mother. However, just as Goltzius may be seen as a figure of lacking masculinity (due to his ailing physical and mental health), Hercules is also flawed in his inability to control his vices (that of anger and lust). This is illustrated in Goltzius’ over-exaggeration of human anatomical components in The Great Hercules, a portrayal that focuses on the animal-like passions within Hercules’ that deems him less than perfect.

In the right of The Great Hercules (see Figure 4), Goltzius includes the fight between Antaeus and Hercules in a similar composition as Pollaiuolo, but with Antaeus’ back even more strained, and places both of their physical junction at the genital area. While Pollaiuolo’s figures are at least partially nude, Goltzius’ are explicitly all nude. There is no question that the two genitals of the figures are in contact as they engage in a violent, sexual brawl of sorts. Goltzius’ deliberate composition magnifies the homoeroticity surrounding Hercules, a topic that was especially prominent in the Renaissance art sphere.

Rather than simply an over-exaggerated and erroneous study of human anatomy or a propaganda of political unity for the Dutch Revolution, The Great Hercules can also be seen as a quasi-self-portrait of Goltzius himself. Just as Goltzius magnified the flaws of Hercules within this artwork, The Great Hercules is also reflectant of Goltzius’ own self-awareness of his lacking masculinity. As such, the piece rather serves as an acceptance of the embodiment of flawed masculinity–an analogy of his own life, which consisted of a series of misfortunes, though Goltzius’ pursuit of art never dampened. He simply sought another way to persevere through and around such inadequacies.

APPENDIX

	Figure 1. Hendrick Goltzius. Goltzius’s Right Hand. 1588. Pen in brown ink. 22.9 x 32.8 cm. Haarlem: Tylers Museum. Haarlem, Netherlands.
	Figure 2. Hendrick Goltzius. The Great Hercules. 1589. Engraving on laid paper. 55.5 x 40.4 cm. National Gallery of Art. District of Columbia, United States.
	Figure 3. From The Great Hercules (see Figure 2).
	Figure 4. From The Great Hercules (see Figure 2).
	Figure 5. From The Great Hercules (see Figure 2).
	Figure 6. From The Great Hercules (see Figure 2).
	Figure 7. An illustration from Vesalius’ De humani corporis fabrica. First published in 1543.
	Figure 8. Hendrick Goltzius. Portrait of Jan van Duvenvoorde. 1579-1580. Engraving print on paper. 21.0 x 13.5 cm. British Museum. London, United Kingdom.
	Figure 9. Hendrick Goltzius. Farnese Hercules. ca. 1592, dated 1617. Engraving on laid paper. 42.1 x 30.4 cm. Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York, United States.
	Figure 10. Hendrick Goltzius. Hercules Killing Cacus. 1588. Chiaroscuro woodcut in olive green, black, and pale yellow on laid paper. 41.6 x 33.8 cm. National Gallery of Art. District of Columbia, United States.
	Figure 11. Hendrick Goltzius. Danaë. 1603. Oil painting on canvas. canvas: 173.4 × 200.0 cm, frame: 203.2 × 228.6 × 8.9 cm. Los Angeles County Museum of Art. California, United States.
	Figure 12. Antonio del Pollaiuolo. Hercules and Antaeus. c. 1475. Oil on panel. 16 x 9 cm. Galleria degli Uffizi. Florence, Italy.
	Figure 13. Antonio del Pollaiuolo. Hercules and Antaeus. c. 1475-1480. Bronze. height (including bas): 46 cm, figure: 36 cm. Museo Nazionale del Bargello. Florence, Italy
	Figure 14. Circle of Baccio Baldini or Maso Finiguerra. Hercules and Antaeus. c. 1470-1475. Pen and brown ink and brown wash over black chalk. 32.6 x 22.6 cm. British Museum. London, United Kingdom.

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Sluijter, Eric Jan. “Emulating Sensual Beauty: Representations of Danae from Gossaert to Rembrandt.” Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art 27, no. 1/2 (1999): 4. https://doi.org/10.2307/3780877.

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^[3] Luijten, et al., Hendrick Goltzius (1558-1617) : Drawings, Prints and Paintings, 13.

^[4] Hults, Linda C. “Van Mander’s Protean Artist: Hendrick Goltzius, Mythic Masculinity and Embodiment.” Art History 44, no. 2 (April 2021): 372–402. https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-8365.12570, 375.

^[5] Luijten, et al., Hendrick Goltzius (1558-1617) : Drawings, Prints and Paintings, 15.

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^[8] Mark, Joshua. “The Life of Hercules in Myth & Legend.” World History Encyclopedia, July 23, 2014. https://www.worldhistory.org/article/733/the-life-of-hercules-in-myth–legend/.

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^[10] Holman, Beth L. “Goltzius’ Great Hercules: Mythology, Art and Politics.” Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art / Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek 42–43, no. 1 (1991): 397–412. https://doi.org/10.1163/22145966-90000625, 398.

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^[12] Holman, “Goltzius’ Great Hercules: Mythology, Art and Politics.”, 398.

^[13] “Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library Vesalius at 500.” Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library. Accessed December 13, 2021. https://fisher.library.utoronto.ca/vesalius-500.

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^[16] Holman, “Goltzius’ Great Hercules: Mythology, Art and Politics.”, 400.

^[17] Languet, Hubert. Vindiciæ Contra Tyrannos. 1581. Reprint, London: Text Creation Partnership, 1648, 147, https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo2/A88696.0001.001/1:3.4?rgn=div2.

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^[31] Mark, Joshua. “The Life of Hercules in Myth & Legend.”

^[32] Simons, Patricia. “Hercules in Italian Renaissance Art: Masculine Labour and Homoerotic Libido.”, 635.

^[33] Simons, Patricia. “Hercules in Italian Renaissance Art: Masculine Labour and Homoerotic Libido.”, 632.

^[34] Healy, Róisín. “Suicide in Early Modern and Modern Europe.” The Historical Journal 49, no. 3 (2006): 903–19. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4091587, 909.

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^[41] Sluijter, Eric Jan. “Emulating Sensual Beauty: Representations of Danae from Gossaert to Rembrandt.” Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art 27, no. 1/2 (1999): 4. https://doi.org/10.2307/3780877, 28.

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^[54] Hults, Linda C. “Van Mander’s Protean Artist: Hendrick Goltzius, Mythic Masculinity and Embodiment.”, 376.

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The Ethics of Arendt’s Co-responsibility 

Abstract

This paper is an examination of Hannah Arendt’s concept of co-responsibility in the context of understanding the tragedies surrounding World War II. Arendt’s concept of co-responsibility is ethically ambiguous and highly criticized because there is much debate around the subjectivity of measuring participation and resulting accountability for an event. However, Arendt proposes such a concept to encourage a discourse of restoration among victimized groups and society as a whole. The nuances of co-responsibility are explored through the examination of three case studies of this relationship: the Jews and antisemitism, Nazi officers and the Holocaust, and “superfluous” men and imperialism. Although it is unfair to blame a victimized group for a tragedy, it is still important to evaluate their role in creating the conditions for that event to take place. Every person involved in a tragedy must recognize their contribution and be held accountable accordingly in order to prevent a similar event from occurring in the future.

The Ethics of Arendt’s Co-responsibility

In The Origins of Totalitarianism, Hannah Arendt describes the idea of co-responsibility as an approach to understanding how to deal with the tragedies surrounding World War II. Arendt’s discussion of the events spans from the early 17th century to directly after World War II. There is much debate around the ethics of co-responsibility because of the subjectivity of measuring how much a particular group contributed to an event. In the case of World War II, co-responsibility is ethical to an extent, varying with the levels of contribution and interaction each group had with those who are directly responsible for such events. Many have a difficult time finding a justification for deeming a victimized group as one that is co-responsible for an event. Although it is unfair to blame a victimized group for a tragedy, it is still important to evaluate their role in creating the conditions for that event to take place. This paper will illustrate the nuances of co-responsibility through the exploration of three instances of this concept: the Jews and antisemitism, Nazi officers and the Holocaust, and “superfluous” men and imperialism. Each of these relationships has different circumstances and outcomes that will serve to illuminate the complexities and ambiguities of co-responsibility.

Definitions

There is a distinction to be made between responsibility and co-responsibility. Responsibility is a state of being held accountable for something because of direct involvement in that thing. The definition of  responsibility stems from a logical framework, searching for and blaming someone who is a direct cause of some event. On the other hand, co-responsibility is an unevenly shared responsibility for an event because of an indirect contribution to that outcome. The definition of co-responsibility stems from a moral framework, searching for someone to blame who should feel responsible without necessarily making a direct contribution to the event or outcome. Although Halliburton’s definition of co-responsibility does not require a party to have this subjective feeling of responsibility for an event, Halliburton argues someone who is co-responsible “does not cause but rather provides the necessary condition” for an event to take place (2002, 266). It is important to note that those who are responsible and those who are co-responsible cannot be equally blamed for an event. “Moral responsibility transcends the realm of individually accountable actions” (Huber, 1993, 575). In other words, because tragedies, like those surrounding World War II, cannot be boiled down to one decision or event that happened, all of those involved must take their fair, yet unequal, share of the blame. For example, Adolf Hitler would be someone who is responsible for the Holocaust and other outcomes of World War II because Hitler was directly involved in orchestrating those events. Sympathizers to the Nazi movement are co-responsible for the Holocaust because they supported and emboldened Hitler, but they did not have any involvement in or knowledge of the decision-making process  (Halliburton, 2002, 267). If nobody is held accountable or to the proper degree, then the issues at hand cannot be resolved.

The difference between responsibility and co-responsibility is important, especially in the aftermath of World War II, because framing one group as the victim and another as the culprit, or blaming ‘the system’ partially absolves responsible groups of their guilt. This distinction is particularly crucial in the resolution process because a society cannot remedy an issue without properly and completely deciding who should face what consequences. Bilsky defines the concept of political guilt as the co-responsibility of citizens for actions done as an agent of the state (Bilsky, 2017, 17). For example, in light of the concept of political guilt, officers in Nazi bureaucracy cannot be absolved of their guilt for the outcomes of actions done on behalf of the state. If officers were to point to the fact that they were following orders, then they would erase any moral, individual agency in bureaucratic settings (Bilsky, 2017, 26). With events that have as large a scope as this, it is difficult to point to one person as someone who should individually be held responsible for that event. That is why it is vital that those involved in the event must recognize that through their actions, they could prevent the same or an even worse event from happening in the future.

Case Studies

Co-responsibility is an ethically ambiguous topic because of the unresolved issues in the  language surrounding it. In Origins of Totalitarianism, Arendt is vague when making the distinction between co-responsibility and responsibility; the author also does not mention who should decide which groups fall under each category. This lack of clarity has been a source of controversy in the years since the book was published. Arendt defines “collective responsibility in terms of a liability predicated on political association that does not impute blame” (Schapp, 2001, 749). Even though one’s level of collective responsibility often corresponds with their political associations, Arendt dismisses guilt in politics. The publicity surrounding feelings of collective guilt distorts and transforms those feelings into those of collective sorrow, causing the masses to feel pity for some group instead of finding solutions to a problem (Schapp, 2001, 749). “Arendt’s conception of political responsibility… opens the way for understanding how ‘ordinary citizens’ might assume political responsibility for past wrongs while resisting their identification as guilty subjects by a discourse of restorative reconciliation” (Schapp, 2001, 749). Making the distinction between responsibility and co-responsibility provides an opportunity for more actions of restorative justice to take place, enabling citizens and societies as a whole to effectively cope with tragic events and their contribution to them.

The Jews and Antisemitism

One could argue co-responsibility is ethical to an extent because the groups involved actively participated in what took place. Participation, however, requires some level of individual agency, or the extent to which an individual can change their own environment, which, as previously mentioned, may “provide the necessary conditions” for an event to take place (Halliburton, 2002, 266). In the case of the Jews and antisemitism, Arendt argues the Jews benefited from remaining separate from society, but this separation ultimately cleared the way for antisemitism to arise.

As a part of a strategy of self-preservation, the Jews developed and maintained their own culture and traditions in addition to having special privileges granted by the state. Arendt argues some privileged and successful Jews further separated themselves from the community as a strategy of self-preservation on an individual level; these privileged Jews designated themselves as separate from ‘the Jew’ in the stereotypical sense in order to become involved and thrive in regular society. Another part of this ‘strategy’ was that part of the Jewish religious doctrine was that the Jews believed they were chosen by God and should self-govern. This belief in chosenness was eventually perverted by the antisemitic pan-movements, who drew inspiration from the transnational organization of the Jewish community; unlike the leaders of the antisemetic pan-movements, the Jews had no intention of destroying the state or society in which they lived in order to gain power. The Jews ultimately created a community to fall back on whenever the state or society failed them. Although Arendt argues the Jews provided the ‘necessary conditions’ for antisemitism, which would contribute to their level of co-responsibility, it must be emphasized that they did not become involved because they wanted to support antisemitism.

Conversely, the Jews were one group among many that were victimized during this time, having no other choice but to participate in what was going on. Even though they contributed to the tragedies of WWII, it is important to recognize they had different intentions than those who were making larger decisions. The Jews had no way of knowing that their support of the nation-state and other inspiration for antisemitic pan-movements would ultimately lead to their downfall. Specifically when discussing the co-responsibility of the Jews, Arendt fails to:

make a distinction… between how Jews have responded to antisemitism and their responsibility for antisemitism. [A]t the core of her argument lay a refusal on the one hand to blame the Jews for antisemitism and on the other to rationalise Jewish responses to antisemitism. (Spencer & Fine, 2018, 76)

One of the major criticisms of Arendt’s discussion of Jewish co-responsibility was that she focused on the “transgressions of Jews” instead of recognizing that the Jews “could not by themselves defeat the forces of antisemitism” (Spencer & Fine, 2018, 75-76). In focusing on the failures of the Jews in this way, Arendt ignores the fact that the Jews had a more limited position in society than what Arendt implies.

The Jews took what few opportunities were offered to them. For example, for much of European history, the Jews were only given career opportunities in the financial sector because Christianity regarded working with money as sinful. As Jews flourished in this field, by the 18th century many powerful Jewish bankers and financiers were able to help finance the state, eventually causing an association between the state and the Jew. As the nation-state began to fail in the 19th century and prior to World War II, “each class of society which came into a conflict with the state as such became antisemetic because the only social group which seemed to represent the state were the Jews” (Arendt, 1966, 25). In other words, any hatred towards the state transformed into hatred for the Jew. Jewish financiers became apprehensive towards taking part in the political ventures of imperialism in the late 19th and early 20th centuries as they were afraid of enhancing the growing antisemitism that arose when they financed the state previously. As a result, Jewish financiers were eventually left out of the benefits of imperialism.

Spencer and Fine argue that the response of victims–in this case, the Jews–is only important if such a response affects the outcome of the overall situation. If so, then those who decide who is co-responsible should focus on “how Jewish responses to antisemitism were forged and whether they closed off or opened up the potential for solidarity from other people” (Spencer & Fine, 2018, 76). Spencer and Fine argue that Arendt, or anyone who decides if the Jews are co-responsible for antisemitism, should take into account the fact that the Jews did not have the means to improve their situation or move up in society. “For it is in the nature of genocide that the targeted group alone rarely has the resources to defend itself against the power of perpetrators equipped with a monopoly of the means of coercion and backed by popular mobilisation.” (Spencer & Fine, 2018, 76). To further this point, Harrison argues that the Jews could only be deemed co-responsible if it is shown that the interests of each individual Jew were not those of the country of his citizenship but were a part of a vast Jewish conspiracy (2020, 87). In other words, Jews could be co-responsible for antisemitism if their goal was to be hated and excluded from society in the first place, which would explain why they did not take much action to stop the rise of antisemitism. Because this is not the case, Harrison argues co-responsibility of the Jews for antisemitism is invalid. Overall, Arendt’s argument of Jewish co-responsibility is ambiguous because of the debate over what Arendt uses to constitute the basis for determining co-responsibility in this situation. Even though Arendt’s decision to propose the application of co-responsibility to the Jews and the Holocaust is highly criticized, Arendt did so to encourage a discourse of restoration among victimized groups, such as the Jews, to evaluate their role in preventing an event like the Holocaust from occurring in the future.

Nazi Officers and the Holocaust

Officers in the Nazi bureaucracy also had an active role in the outcomes of World War II. The Nazi movement recruited many officers from the peasantry, hoping to serve their country as a way to make up for their failures in other avenues of life. Prior to World War II, there were limited opportunities for social mobility, so many people began looking for ways to survive in a society with  growing wealth inequality. One of these opportunities presented itself in the form of joining the military and police forces, which provided basic necessities, such as food, clothing, and shelter, in return for fighting in support of the totalitarian movement.

However, while serving the Nazis, officers committed heinous acts and crimes against humanity. In their other works, Arendt criticizes Adolf Eichmann, one of the major organizers of the Holocaust, for excusing his actions as he was a ‘cog in the machine.’ Arendt holds that Eichmann should still be punished:

[f]or even if [Eichmann] did not intend wrong he nevertheless violated the status of every human being, including his own, not only by supporting the extermination of a specific people or peoples, but by violating the plurality ‘of mankind in its entirety’. (Kohn, 2002, 648)

Eichmann perverted “the fact that men, not Man, live on the earth and inhabit the world” by supporting the idea that one race, the Aryan race, should rule the world (Arendt, 1958, 7). Because this idea was central to the totalitarian movements of the time, Eichmann cannot excuse himself as a minor contributor to the Holocaust and, therefore, should be held accountable for his actions accordingly.

It is understandable that an officer would avoid insubordination under a regime that would punish such an act with death. “[T]he ability to make a conscientious choice is eliminated [in concentration camps]. Prisoners are made to choose not between good and evil but between evil and evil” (Kohn, 640). Yet, excusing an officer as being simply a ‘cog in the machine’ absolves them of punishment and removes individual agency for their actions. The level of punishment for each person may vary by their level of contribution to the entire event or movement. Because evaluating levels of contribution can be subjective, the method of determining levels of punishment and the institution that should enforce such punishment are both currently still undecided. However, even if those officers did not decide to give certain orders, someone ultimately had to carry out those actions and should be held accountable.

‘Superfluous’ Men and Imperialism

Arendt defines the mob as a group of ‘superfluous’ men who had tried and failed to become successful in capitalist society in continental Europe from the Industrial Revolution to the early 20th century. These men were considered “the refuse of all classes,” deemed ‘superfluous’ because their skills and talents were no longer useful as the economy changed with the rise of capitalism (Arendt, 1966, 155). As with those who joined the military and police forces, these men were searching for a way to survive in a society with growing wealth inequality. These ‘superfluous’ men decided to switch gears and follow new career paths and opportunities that served bourgeois imperialist ventures. The mob was preyed upon by the bourgeoisie with promises of riches and job security in an unstable economy. Working these jobs in African colonies provided an opportunity for these men to succeed and redeem themselves after previous failures, allowing them to directly benefit from imperialism and expansionism.

Under the veil of the ‘White Man’s Burden,’ the mob was brainwashed into thinking they were improving instead of decimating the societies in Africa; if they realized what they were doing, Arendt argues oftentimes they were in too deep to do anything about it. However, Robin argues:

Arendt’s account dissolves conflicts of power, interest and ideas in a bath of psychological analysis, allowing her readers to evade difficult questions of politics and economics… Strangest of all, we needn’t worry about moral responsibility: terror makes everyone – from Hitler to the Jews, Stalin to the kulaks – an automaton, incapable of judgment or being judged. (2007, 18-20)

Arendt’s account of mass society during this time period emphasizes the fact that people were bound to be swept up into a ‘mob mentality’; this account, however, removes individual agency and accountability for the actions committed by common people that may have contributed to the events that took place. An ordinary citizen may not have had the intention to do harm; nevertheless, as previously mentioned, ordinary citizens must “assume political responsibility for past wrongs” and take action to rectify the situation through “a discourse of restorative reconciliation” (Schapp, 2001, 749). Until every individual in a society recognizes their contribution to a tragedy, that society cannot move on and will continue to carry around feelings of collective guilt. The only effective way of resolving the situation is to create a dialogue among ‘ordinary citizens’ around restoration, inspiring everyone to take their fair share of the blame and work together to move forward.

            Conclusion

The idea of co-responsibility is ethical to a certain extent because of the variability in circumstances that allow some groups to be held accountable to different degrees. Every person or group involved in a tragedy must be held liable for their contribution to the event, not just those who were directly responsible for the event. However, just because someone contributed to an event does not mean that they intended for that event to happen. Those who decide who is responsible and who is co-responsible must take people’s intentions and levels of participation into account when making that decision. Whoever is qualified to make that decision is still undecided, as this person or group could be informed by a variety of perspectives, influencing which group falls under each category. For the Jews and antisemitism, one must first decide whether the Jewish response to or responsibility for antisemitism is the determining factor for Jewish co-responsibility. One must also decide whether it is reasonable for Arendt to apply the idea of co-responsibility to the Jews in the Holocaust, yet Arendt seems to do so to encourage victimized groups to evaluate their role in preventing such tragedies from occurring in the future.  In the case of Nazi officers and the Holocaust, every officer must recognize their individual contribution to the tragic events that took place, even if they did not have any involvement in the decision-making process. As for the mob and imperialism, every member of society that ‘provided the necessary conditions’ for these events to take place must recognize their contribution and hold themselves accountable accordingly. On an individual level, people must be held accountable for everything from missteps during everyday occurrences to war crimes or other disasters. People must realize when they cannot escape from the consequences of participating in a bad decision, even when their intentions do not necessarily match the outcome. Our society must provide people with the tools to solve a problem like this before it becomes one. On a micro level, people should try to resolve interpersonal issues; on a larger scale, societal structures must change in order to provide more opportunities for resolutions and less chances for people to be boxed into a corner.

Bibliography

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Arendt, H. (1966). The Origins of Totalitarianism. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

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