In this January of frigid weather we have just watched the first two Republican Party presidential primary contests; heard Canada renege (again) on our pledge to supply Ukraine with air defence equipment; and been horrified by the actions of Hamas and Israeli political leadership in Gaza. One is very tempted to reach back into Shakespearean times and react as Richard III did by proclaiming: “Now is the winter of our discontent.”
Indeed, one is even tempted to compare the life and fate of Richard III to that of the tragic figure of former USA president Donald Trump.
In real life, Richard III stands convicted of usurping the English crown after the death of his cousin King Edward IV. Edward had named Richard, then Duke of Gloucester, as Lord Protector of his eldest son, Edward V, the rightful heir to the English monarchy. Both Prince Edward and his brother were imprisoned in Tower of London, and then disappeared, probably having been murdered at the orders of Richard. He then proclaimed himself heir to the Plantagenet throne, successfully petitioned parliament, and became King Richard III.
At the same time, the historical record suggests that during his two-year rule he was a good administrator, passing laws that protected English merchants against unfair foreign competition, translated the laws of the court into English and reforming the legal system in ways to protect ‘common men’ from being treated badly by the more powerful noblemen.
Killed on the battlefield, ending the 38-year civil War of the Roses, he was the last of the Plantagenet kings. The throne passed to the opposing Tudor family, which did indeed make England great.
The question then: was Richard III a treacherous, treasonous sociopath with a murderous ambition or was he a victim of an intentionally false Tudor family political plot? As human history clearly shows, in the world of political power struggles, nice people don’t succeed. Surely, just as in today’s world, emperors and kings in days of yore succeeded through persuasiveness, eloquence, self confidence and, at times, ruthlessness and overwhelming force.
The issue in the end is whether Richard III’s motivation, was driven overwhelmingly by self-interest and personal benefit. And is this not the same question to be asked of Donald Trump?
There is no doubt that Shakespeare’s Richard III had psychopathic tendencies – narcissistic, superficially charming, controlling of relationships, thought disordered but not cowardly. But was this a Tudor-concocted portrayal of a defeated enemy made popular by a brilliant storyteller? Or did Richard III instead have an underlying severe anxiety disorder that drove him to try to be in total control of life around him, demanding unquestioned loyalty and approval of his thoughts, actions and ideas.
Add a little paranoia and we may well be staring at a mirror image of Richard III leading a gun-toting mob seeking revenge for the stealing of his American throne by a perverted Constitution and legal system.
Perhaps it is better, in the depths of this winter darkness, that we should turn our thoughts to Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well. And wait expectantly and patiently for spring to arrive.
