The bonds between brothers and sisters may be as potent, complex and transformative – for good or ill – as those between parents and children. In our siblings we see the mirror of our own undiscovered selves. And the love and antipathy we feel towards them reflect many things, not least how we relate to the lesser-known dimensions of our own hidden depths. Psychology has much to say about sibling rivalry, but myth said it all first. These myths also speak of the healing and redemptive power of sibling love.
Who is Father's favorite?
This story from the Old Testament is known to us all, but perhaps we have not reflected sufficiently on how a parent can be the source of conflict between his or her children. The story of Cain and Abel is concerned with what is known as ‘sibling rivalry’ – the jealousy and competition which occurs between brothers and sisters. Sibling rivalry is as natural and inevitable as the sun's rising, and as old. A little can generate healthy self-development. A lot can create pain and destructive behavior within families.
dam and Eve had two sons. Abel, the younger, was a shepherd, while his older brother Cain worked in the fields. There came a time when they both made offerings to God. Cain offered a portion of his crops, the fruit of the fields, while Abel made his offering from the finest and fattest of his flock. God was well pleased with Abel's offering, but not with Cain's. And, as Cain could discern no reason for this favoritism, he grew very angry and bitter towards both God and his brother, Abel.
God perceived Cain's anger and said, ‘Why are you angry? You will succeed if you work hard. If you do not, the fault will be yours.’
But Cain was not soothed by these words. His anger grew inside him. However, as it is not wise to be angry with God, his anger turned towards his younger brother. He followed Abel into the fields and there attacked and murdered him.
‘Cain, where is your brother?’ God said to him.
‘I do not know,’ replied Cain. ‘I am not my brother's keeper.’
But God, of course, knew what had happened. ‘Why have you done this terrible thing?’ God said to Cain. ‘Your brother's blood is crying out to me from the ground, like a voice calling for revenge. I am placing you under a curse; you will no longer till the soil. It has soaked up your brother's blood as if it had opened its mouth to receive it when you killed him. If you try to grow crops, the soil will produce nothing. You will be a homeless wanderer on the earth.’
And Cain said to God, ‘I cannot bear this punishment. You are driving me off the land and out of your presence. I will be an outcast, and anyone who finds me will kill me.’
But God answered, ‘No. If anyone kills you, seven lives will be taken in revenge.’ So God put a mark on Cain's forehead to warn anyone who met him not to kill him. And Cain went away from God's presence and went to live in a land called Nod, which means ‘Wandering’, far east of Eden.
Those who are of an orthodox religious bent will probably not question the dubious morality of this tale. But if we consider the story carefully, we may well wonder why God favors Abel when Cain displays just as much devotion. Indeed, there is no fairness in God's judgement. Each brother gives the best of what he produces; Cain cannot offer sheep because his vocation is tilling the soil. Here we may glimpse echoes of an all-too-common family dynamic: the rivalry between siblings which erupts when a parent favors one child over the other. Cain can see no reason for being rejected by God, and his anger, viewed objectively, is quite justified. Yet he cannot vent his anger directly on God, any more than a child can vent his or her anger on a powerful parent. Anger exhibited towards God could result in annihilation. Children have a deep and archetypal fear of their parents, not necessarily because the parents merit it, but because a mother and father are godlike figures in a child's psyche, and wield the power of life and death.
Because of this, Cain's anger is directed towards his brother. This is often the result when we are frightened of exhibiting our rage towards someone we love or fear. It is displaced onto the sibling who seems to have won all the parents' love, and although most of the time it leads to a subtler form of killing – coldness and spite – it can sometimes result in physical violence, even in ‘normal’ families. The key to this story is ultimately not the rivalry between the brothers, but a deity who displays a favoritism based on his personal tastes. God evidently prefers sheep to corn – therefore Cain, rather than Abel, is rejected. A vegetarian might well question this preference! When we look at family dynamics, the reasons for favoritism lie in the individual parent's own psychological outlook. The father who prefers sport to artistic creation may favor an athletic son over a musical one; the mother who is preoccupied with appearances may prefer a pretty daughter to a studious but plain one. Life, like families, is unfair.
In this tale there is no resolution; Cain is made homeless and outcast. Yet God spares him. Perhaps God feels a bit guilty, because the root of this sibling rivalry lies with him. In family life, there may be a resolution to conflict, but this can only come if the warring siblings are honest enough to talk to each other about where the real hurt lies, and if the injured or rejected one can consciously recognize his or her anger towards the offending parent. And perhaps the greatest responsibility of all lies with the parent who, like God in the story, may behave in a distinctly unfair and irrational way, without sufficient inner reflection. God may have the right to such behavior, but parents do not. The sibling rivalry reflected in the tale of Cain and Abel does not spring from innate antipathy between the siblings; it is generated by the complex dynamics of the family itself. If we are emotionally generous and honest enough to see to the core, we may be able to eradicate the mark of Cain from our own and our children's brows.
Who gets the girl?
This Greek tale portrays the battle between two brothers for the same woman, and the secret source of the rivalry, which lies in parental meddling. The rivalry between Ares and Hephaistos erupts not because they are temperamentally doomed to hate each other, but because their parents use them as pawns in a game. In psychological terms, we might call this game conditional love – the promise that if a child does or is a particular thing, then the parents will offer love in return.
res and Hephaistos were both the children of Zeus and Hera, king and queen of heaven. We have seen something of Hephaistos' difficult infancy and and his eventual reconciliation with his parents (see pages 16–18). Although the story told here is slightly different, we see many similar themes emerging.
The childhood of Ares was quite unlike that of his brother. When he was born a new light shone on Olympus; for unlike Hephaistos, Ares was physically flawless. His father's radiance and his mother's grandeur marked his countenance with beauty and gave strength to his splendid limbs.
Hera demanded what gift Zeus would give to this handsome son as a birthright. But Zeus had already given away the sun and moon, the sea and the underworld. He could not think of anything he could give this child so adored by Hera. Eventually, because his wife nagged him constantly on the matter, he sent his messenger Hermes to roam earth and heaven to find a suitable gift. But Hermes, another son of Zeus, was not fond of his half-brother Ares. Although the new god was handsome, he was, in Hermes' eyes, dull and surly. A loud voice and a powerful kick seemed to be the scope of his talents. Partly from loyalty to Zeus and partly from mischief, he eventually brought to Olympus Aphrodite, the enchanting goddess of love and desire, just risen from the sea. Her beauty and grace were a fitting tribute to the new child. Her propensity for creating havoc was an equally fitting tribute, although at first only Hermes knew this.
While the birthday party of the young god was being celebrated, Hermes revealed the beautiful Aphrodite to Ares, who, although only a child, responded with the unmistakable signs of naked lust. At the same moment, Hera was suddenly made aware of her first-born son, Hephaistos, who had been living beneath the sea in the kingdom of the sea-goddess Thetis. At the party, Thetis was wearing an exquisite brooch, and Hera, who coveted it, demanded to meet its creator. With some reluctance Thetis summoned Hephaistos to Olympus. Thus mother and son came face to face for the first time since her child had been flung from heaven. Because she desired the treasures which he alone was capable of creating, Hera invited Hephaistos to remain on Olympus. He was then asked what he wished for as a gift to seal this long overdue reunion between injured child and thoughtless mother.
Hephaistos could not think of anything he wanted that he could not make himself. And then he saw the gift which Hermes had brought from the sea to give to Ares, and knew at once what he desired. He demanded Aphrodite as a bride. Although Zeus at first protested at this mismatch, Hera overrode him; her allegiance had shifted from Ares, the handsome war-god, to the crippled artisan-god who could make such beautiful things. Thus Hephaistos was granted Aphrodite as his gift, while his brother Ares was betrayed and left whining with hatred and rage as he crouched on the floor.
Zeus stared down at this handsome child whose heart, through hurt and disappointment, was becoming as misshapen as his brother's body. In a fit of disgust, Zeus shouted, ‘Hatred! Discord! Violence! That will be your birthright! What else are you fit for?’ With that he stormed from the hall. Sly Hermes then came to comfort the raging child, who suddenly demanded with a bellow that he wanted the earth for his birthright. Hermes patiently explained that the earth could be the property of no god; it belonged to itself. But Ares would not tolerate yet another disappointment. The young war-god swore by the River Styx that if anyone else was given the earth, he would tear and bite and hack them into bloody pieces. Hermes listened and wondered. To whom would the earth one day belong? For in this dawn-time of the gods' rule, humankind had not yet been created.
Hera demands a gift for her handsome new child because she is proud of his beauty; but this has little to do with the child's own needs. It is vanity rather than love which motivates her. Zeus fobs off the responsibility for choosing the gift – and how many busy parents, too preoccupied with their own concerns, ask someone else to pick a present for their child's birthday, or send a surrogate to the school play because they have no time to go themselves? When Hephaistos is discovered to have talents which can glorify Hera and impress others, then suddenly he is the favored one; and Ares, once adored, is abruptly pushed aside. Is it any wonder, then, that these two brothers find themselves bitter rivals, and that the brother who has been humiliated takes vengeance on the world as a result?
One of the most striking themes in this myth is the callous indifference which Zeus and Hera show towards both their offspring. Ares may be impetuous and self-willed, but he has positive qualities too – strength, courage, energy – which deserve to be honored. Given a gift suited to his nature and offered with love, he might have turned out altogether different. These Olympian parents do not recognize their children as individuals. They are more concerned with what their children can do for them. Sadly, this indifference is not uncommon in many families, although not perhaps as brutally displayed as here; and it is usually deeply unconscious and not intended to injure. Common too is the theme of love given in exchange for what ‘goodies’ a child can offer the parent. Unhappily, many well-meaning parents who have been soured by their own early disappointments want their children to shine so that they, the parents, can bask in the reflected glory. ‘If you become what I want you to be, I will love you best!’ is the unspoken message.
But the anxiety which conditional love provokes is intolerable for any child. While some children manage to perform well to please their parents, others, perhaps a little like Ares, do not have the cleverness or special talents to fulfill parental expectations. They feel humiliated and enraged as a result, later venting this rage on others because, deep inside, they feel worthless. And the clever child who achieves favor may suffer equally. He or she learns to equate self-worth with pleasing others, and may spend a lifetime trying to be what others want. Hephaistos must go on making beautiful objects whether he wants to or not, because, if he stops, he will lose his mother's love.
Aphrodite is the goddess of love, and thus she is a symbol of love itself. It is really love which is the gift first offered to Ares, then snatched away and given to Hephaistos on condition that he pleases his mother. The wise parent does not make love conditional, but offers it freely because every child is lovable as himself or herself. This does not preclude discipline; but it precludes manipulation, which damages children far more than an honest punishment meted out fairly. Whatever our disappointments in life, our children are not obliged to live their lives according to our designs, or to compensate for something we feel we lack. Had Zeus and Hera recognized this simple truth at the outset of the story, then, according to the myth, war would not exist on earth.
Who is biggest and best?
There are many myths of rival twins, and many of these tales end badly. In this story from ancient Rome, the enmity is not due to parental sources; it arises from simple jealousy over who is going to be first and best on the world's stage. The matter-of-fact way in which the Romans portrayed the jealousy between Romulus and Remus, and the murder of one by the other, reflects the timeless and archetypal nature of sibling rivalry.
ne fine afternoon the war-god Mars (known to the Greeks as Ares) took a walk through the woods on one of the seven hills of what would later become the city of Rome. There, in a woodland glade, he found a beautiful young woman asleep. She was Rhea Silvia, daughter of the king of Alba. Although Rhea Silvia was consecrated as a Vestal Virgin, nevertheless Mars raped her. On the orders of her father, the resulting twins were laid in a winnowing basket and set afloat on the Tiber, so that his daughter's shame might not be discovered; for the king did not believe that these children had been fathered by a god.
But the river-god of the Tiber knew the truth; and he made the river overflow, so that the twin boys were carried safely to a grotto beneath a fig tree. The babies were frightened and hungry, and they cried and cried, but no human answered their call. However, a nearby she-wolf heard, and came to suckle the infants.
Eventually the twins were found by a shepherd and his wife, who took pity on the children; so the boys were sheltered and brought up humbly, ignorant of their origins. The shepherd called them Romulus and Remus.
When they were grown, the young men proved to be as strong, courageous and impetuous as their divine father. They decided to found a city, and carefully studied the flight of birds, consulting with local augurs to get the correct auspices. In that section of the sky which the augur's wand had apportioned to Romulus, twelve vultures appeared. But in Remus' section only six could be seen. The augur pronounced Romulus the rightful founder of the new city. Romulus proceeded, with a plough harnessed to a white cow and a white bull, to draw a furrow which should mark the boundary of the new city's walls. Remus jumped over the furrow in derision, for he was jealous and wanted to destroy his brother's confidence. A violent quarrel ensued; Remus first tried to murder Romulus; and in self-defense Romulus, overcome with the frenzy of his father the war-god, killed his brother.
Romulus went on to found his city alone, which was called Rome after him. In order to people the town he founded a place of asylum between the ramparts, where outlaws, villains and homeless wanderers of all kinds began to congregate. Women of the neighbouring tribes refused to marry the men from this settlement of outlaws, so Romulus and his followers abducted the daughters of one of the tribes, and thus the future population of the new Rome was assured. When his work was done and the future of his city secure, Mars called his son home; Romulus vanished mysteriously during a furious thunderstorm and was afterwards worshipped by the Roman people as a god.
Although murder is not the usual outcome of sibling rivalry, lasting coldness and enmity in adult life are sometimes the fruit of a childhood in which competition proves stronger than cooperation, and envy more powerful than affection. Material security, in the form of money or property, is the cause of many a quarrel between siblings, especially when it concerns who will inherit how much from the parents when they die. And it is worldly power which fuels the struggle between Romulus and Remus, not a quest for a parent's love.
Is there anything parents can do when confronted with such a demonstration of rivalry between offspring? It is most commonly expressed between two brothers or two sisters; and while in some families such jealousy is balanced by mutual loyalty, in others animosity can corrode the home atmosphere and create lasting scars in one or both children. Perhaps one of the keys to the problem lies in this story. Remus becomes jealous only when he discovers that his augury is not as favorable as his brother's – in other words, that his value is less in others' eyes. The seeds of sibling rivalry of this kind are often sown by comparisons, and it may be important for any parent to recognize how hurtful and dangerous such comparisons can be. ‘Why can't you do as well at school as your brother?’ says the unthinking father to his son. ‘Why can't you dress as nicely as your sister?’ says the unconscious mother to her daughter. ‘Why do you sit and read a book when the other children are out playing?’ says the oblivious teacher. ‘Why don't you join in and make friends like other children?’ In the story of Romulus and Remus it is the augur who plays this role, revealing a comparison which will inevitably sow the seeds of discord if it is interpreted as a value judgement. And perhaps the absent father – Mars, after all, does not contribute anything once he has made Rhea Silvia pregnant – has failed his children because he is not present to encourage each one individually.
We may also speculate on how different things might have been if Romulus and Remus had decided to found two different cities, far enough apart so as not to invite comparisons. Their very natures, as children of the war-god, are unsuited to compromise and cooperation. This is a fact of life, not a judgement of character, and it is sometimes wise to recognize that the naturally competitive child needs space to develop his or her own talents without being overshadowed by a sibling. Every child needs to define his or her space and form an individual identity, and everything possible should be done to support this natural and healthy individual development. Then there is room for love, mutual support and friendship to grow. A certain degree of rivalry may always exist between siblings. But a little wisdom and sensitivity, exercised in time, may prevent the spirit of the war-god from entering where it is not welcome.
Loyalty over life
This Greek myth is concerned with the deep love and loyalty which can develop between siblings. While there are many potential problems in sibling relationships, much joy and happiness may also be found. The story of Antigone poses us with a profound moral dilemma: Which do we choose, family loyalty or social opinion?
ntigone was one of the two daughters of King Oedipus of Thebes, born of the dark and tragic union between Oedipus and his mother, Jocasta. But despite this shadowed birth, Antigone's character was loyal and loving, and her actions were entirely blameless. After her father discovered the shame of his marriage and was driven from Thebes, blinded and pursued by the avenging Furies, Antigone was his faithful guide as he wandered for years through country after country (see pages 52–55).
After Oedipus' banishment, his twin sons, Polyneices and Eteocles, were elected co-kings of the city. They agreed to reign for alternate years. But Eteocles, to whom the first term fell, would not relinquish the throne at the end of the year and banished his brother Polyneices from the city. A terrible war broke out between them for the kingship. Polyneices, to avoid further slaughter, offered to decide the succession of the throne by single combat with his brother. Eteocles accepted the challenge; and in the course of the ensuing bitter struggle, each mortally wounded the other. Their uncle, Creon, then took command of the armies and declared himself king of Thebes, issuing an edict that his dead nephews must not be buried. Without a burial, their shades must wander forever on the shores of the River Styx. Anyone who disobeyed this edict would be buried alive as a punishment.
But Antigone, who had loved her brother Polyneices dearly, knew that the evil which had led to war had come from Eteocles. She crept out secretly at night and built a pyre with Polyneices' corpse upon it, and scattered earth upon the body to release the soul for its passage into the underworld.
Looking out of his palace window, King Creon noticed a distant glow which seemed to proceed from a burning pyre and, going to investigate, surprised Antigone in her act of disobedience. He summoned his son Haemon, to whom Antigone had been betrothed, and ordered him to bury her alive. Haemon feigned readiness to do as he was told, but instead married Antigone secretly and sent her away to live among his shepherds, where she bore him a son. Thus her willingness to die rather than betray her heart created life rather than death.
The figure of Antigone has come down to us as a symbol of absolute loyalty in the face of death. Here is a sister who, far from feeling jealous of her brother, recognizes the injustice of the fate which has been visited upon him and refuses to countenance it, even if this means offering up her own life in the process. She also recognizes the evil of false authority and the horror of gratuitous cruelty, and does what she can to counteract it. Her clear sense of justice is infectious; for, in response to her actions, Haemon, her fiancé, disobeys his father and rescues her.
There are many subtle inferences in this tale, apart from the shining light of Antigone's loyalty to her brother. Creon, self-declared king of Thebes, represents the presiding social rules of the time. While such rules may be rigidly enforced, they reflect the personal values and ambitions of the people who set them, and their ultimate rightness may be open to question. Those who slavishly follow what ‘The Great They’ define as right and wrong may, like Creon, be empty within, propped up only by the power they wield in the outside world. Thus, what is deemed ‘socially correct’ at any given time may yield to a different interpretation of social correctness later, when the old rule gives way to a new one; and only those like Antigone, with clear sight and a clear heart, can see beyond what is deemed socially appropriate to what is truly right according to the inner voice of the soul.
Although children are rarely called upon to defend their siblings in the face of such a conflagration, nevertheless the decision which Antigone makes reflects the enormous moral and emotional power of a committed heart. It not only redeems the wandering spirit of Polyneices; it also transforms the son of Creon and redeems the evil of his father, which is rendered powerless. This depth of love can be found between many brothers and sisters, and it is one of the great joys and gifts of a strong family life. It can occur even when the rest of the family have gone completely over the edge. The mythic history of the House of Thebes is a dark one, and begins even before Oedipus himself. Sin follows sin in this family, worse than any television soap opera, and the line is plagued by the curses of various offended gods. The House of Thebes is the ultimate ‘dysfunctional family’. Yet even in the face of such chaos, a bond of love and loyalty such as that between Antigone and Polyneices can endure. The power of human love within the family can withstand even a psychological inheritance of great destructiveness, redeeming the past and remaking the future.