In a new article, an author manages to combine Shakespeare, the presidential election, and the war in the Middle East. It’s a tall order to be sure, and it raises far more questions than it answers. Essentially, the article posits that all of the current presidential candidates, both Republican and Democrat, are using the war as a platform for their campaigns. In this article, the author argues that they have normalized violence and war by treating it the same way they would tax issues or healthcare. To contrast this, the writer cites Shakespeare as an author who acutely understood and vividly evoked the horrors of battle.

So, the Shakespearean question this article raises (we’ll set aside the political ones) is whether or not this argument is true. Does Shakespeare portray the gritty reality of war or does he sensationalize it for dramatic effect? Is it possible he does both? In some ways, his is a matter of interpretation. Take Hamlet, for example. In production, cuts are not really optional, they are a necessity. One of the most frequent characters and subplots to get the axe is Fortinbras and his impending takeover. Remove it and Hamlet is a family drama writ large. Include it, and the play is about a ruling family neglecting its country. In many ways, Shakespeare is what we want him to be, and perhaps the same is true of the three senators currently vying for the highest office in the country.

Don’t mess with a Dame. If you’ve ever seen Judi Dench’s stage or film performances, you know she’s not someone to be toyed with. In fact, tartness is her specialty, whether she’s rattling off iambic pentameter, telling a certain world-famous superspy what to do, or trying to elevate cutesy fare like Chocolat. She won an Oscar for roughly eight minutes of withering dryness, yet it was potent and memorable despite its brevity. It would be ironic if in real life she were docile and lamblike, but a recent news item suggests such a dichotomy is not the case.

Dame Dench has joined a protest, one that specifically deals with Shakespeare’s heritage. Plans are underway to construct and eco-town in England, which normally would be cause for celebration among those who care about the environment; however, in this case the response has been far from universal praise. The issue is that this particular eco-town is to be constructed within six miles of Shakespeare’s home in Stratford. What is raising the ire of La Dench and company is that it will bring extra tourism and commercial construction to an area revered for its historical value, forever changing the landscape.

Our Dame has been very careful to point out that she fully supports eco-towns and environmental consciousness. In this case, she simply objects to the location. Ultimately, it’s a case of earth versus history. While it remains unclear who the victor will be, I think those eco-peeps should be plenty scared. I would be willing to bet that one icy stare from Her Royal Judiness would be enough to raze FIVE eco-towns.

The L.A. times, it seems, finds the current presidential campaign highly Shakespearean. Touching on theories about where Will himself might have fallen politically, an article in the Times focuses most of its energy on the three remaining candidates in the presidential race: John McCain, the clear choice of the Republicans; and Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama, who continue to vie for the Democratic nomination. Given Shakespeare’s penchant for plays about rulers and power, the author of this piece finds apt comparison between many of Shakespeare’s leaders (both good and bad). While he sees shades of Coriolanus in McCain and Richard II in Obama, his comparisons for Senator Clinton are less apt (Kate from The Taming of the Shrew). A second comparison goes outside the plays and parallels Ms. Clinton to the Virgin Queen herself, Elizabeth I.

Now, admittedly, Shakespeare’s plays are hardly equal in terms of sex/gender issues, but it seems the author of this article (whether purposefully or inadvertently) has stumbled into similar territory. Are a shrew and a virgin really all he could come up with for Hillary? Why couldn’t he disregard the sex of the character and focus on the personality traits instead? Why not compare Hillary and Hamlet’s careful orchestration of their public personas? In addition, both Hillary and Hamlet have seen sordid familial dramas overshadow other aspects of their lives/careers. The parallel to Elizabeth I is not completely without merit because, like the Senator, she was in the impossible situation of having to spin their womanhood for the public. Still, it seems this author could have presented a more balanced comparison that measured all three characters on the same terms.

In thinking about Presidents’ Day, it occurred to me how little I think about it. The holiday is built primarily around the birthdays of Washington and Lincoln, and while I certainly respect their historical accomplishments, I have no emotional attachment to them. I think that is what separates some holidays from others—the degree of emotional investment. It’s easy to be reflective and emotional on a day like Veteran’s Day, particularly in the current climate. For many of us, however, past presidents are merely pictures and facts in books. I came across a recent item that asked who the best president in history was. While establishing criteria for such an evaluation is no easy task, this writer settled on none other than George Washington. In his argument, he noted an oft-repeated quotation by Abigail Adams at the end of Washington’s presidency: “We shall not see the likes of him again.”

Ms. Adams was not the originator of that line; she borrowed it from Shakespeare. It comes from Hamlet, when the title character reflects on his recently deceased (but ghostly) father to his friend Horatio. In both cases, it seems that nostalgia is coloring the reflection. In essence, it is easier to idealize someone once they are gone. We never meet the elder Hamlet except in his supernatural form (which may or may not be real, depending on how you interpret the play). Couldn’t Hamlet be editing out whatever flaws his father had in life because of the wrongness of his death? Similarly, can we not envision a near-perfect George Washington, a master statesman incapable of lying even as a child because it is the kind of foundation upon which we want our country to be built?

“For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

The above passage from Matthew 7:2 is commonly believed to be the source of the title of Shakespeare’s “problem play” Measure for Measure. The line is excerpted from the famous Sermon on the Mount and has drawn a variety of interpretations. A recent editorial looked at some of those interpretations (both in the Bible and in the play) from a political point of view. According to the editorial’s author, Jerry Bowyer, everybody appropriates the passage for their own purposes. For the liberals it’s a “judge not lest ye be judged” declaration, while conservatives align it more with “an eye for an eye.” The truth, Bowyer argues, lies somewhere in the middle.

Applying these interpretations to the play presents similar challenges. It can’t be solely interpreted as a statement against judgments, because the play hinges on the moral judgments of the characters, particularly Angelo and Isabella. On the other side, the play is also not pro-judgment, as the severity (not to mention hypocrisy) of Angelo’s sentencing of Claudio is portrayed in a less-than-flattering light. Even Bowyer’s notion that the passage and the play represent a broader-based statement about leadership is not without its problems. If Measure for Measure is about leadership, is the Duke supposed to be a good example of it in contrast to Angelo’s abuses? If so, why does he ask Isabella to forsake the virtue for which she has fought so hard throughout the play by marrying him? Shakespeare buffs debate whether Isabella’s silence following this question indicates acceptance or refusal, yet the real measure of this play is why the Duke puts her in the position of having to answer.

Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov had stern comments for Great Britain regarding their policy in dealing with certain figures who oppose Russian President Vladimir Putin. In a lengthy speech, Lavrov invoked Shakespeare’s Hamlet in discussing, among other things, the poisoning death of Alexander Litvinenko. Litvinenko made worldwide news when he was poisoned by Polonium.

The author of the article noted the irony of its name in comparison to the character of Polonius in Hamlet; in truth, it is a derivation of Poland, the homeland of its discoverers, the Curies. Still, the article alludes to an intriguing question: what Shakespearean play would be a good model for foreign diplomacy? This is especially challenging because in the plays featuring monarchs, much of the drama centers around political discord or uneasy foreign relations. Hamlet is a perfect example of this issue–which may explain why some are troubled by Lavrov’s use of it. Throughout the play, its title character is far more concerned with mommy and daddy issues than the governing of his country. As a result, Fortinbras sweeps in at the end of the play and takes over with almost no opposition. Perhaps A Midsummer Night’s Dream would be a better model. While the King and Queen’s tempers often get the better of them, at least the play ends with the relatively peaceful coexistence of fairies and humans.

A recent editorial noted that a former speech writer for President Bush had written an article on Shakespeare. The editorial’s author, who clearly was no fan of the president, found it ironic that a former Bush administration member (particularly one responsible for the much-discussed phrase “axis of evil”) would laud the complexity of Shakespeare’s characters. This writer found this oxymoronic in light of what he felt was the president’s simplistic nature. In doing so, the writer made an extended comparison between Bush and Hal from Shakespeare’s historical Henry cycle.

Rather than get myself in hot water by taking sides on the president or his policies, I would rather interrogate the validity of the writer’s comparison. This Hal/Bush pairing is puzzling coming on the heels of his assertion that Shakespeare is complex while Bush is rudimentary. Supporters of the president hail his undeterred sense of purpose in the face of much opposition while his detractors criticize his narrow-minded inflexibility. Both sides are addressing the same quality—one that in some ways might be more relatable to Greek drama than Shakespeare. Antigone’s Creon, with his unwavering belief in the state and his leadership of it, seems more applicable to Bush than characters like Hamlet, who are famous in part for their indecision. What the editorial does point to is that Shakespeare’s plays (like Greek drama) often follow people in power and what happens to them as they use (and often misuse) that power. As a result, they can provide points of comparison and analysis for politicians of any affiliation, both the inspiring and the inept.