What is Stephen Harper Reading?

INSCRIPTION:

To Stephen Harper,
Prime Minister of Canada,
Caligula, an extraordinary play
About pain
            The quest for Power
                           And human scale,
With respect,
René-Daniel Dubois O.C.

Lettre:

The Right Honourable Stephen Harper
Prime Minister of Canada
80 Wellington Street
Ottawa ON K1A 0A2

Dear Mr. Harper,

It is with strong feelings that I send you today Caligula, by Albert Camus.

You will note that I am enclosing two versions: one, the original, in French, of course, but also an English version, in a skillful translation by Stuart Gilbert.

I think—mistakenly perhaps and please correct me if I am wrong—that if you are not yet familiar with this author, the opportunity of comparing form and content from one language with another can only prove to be enlightening.

There are many reasons for my having chosen this work.

Here are two of them.

The year 2010 marks the 50th anniversary of the death of Albert Camus, one of the most important writers of the twentieth century.

I usually refrain from categorizing authors as being either “major” or “minor”: I have always thought that literature is a treasure in which each contribution is essential, and the older I grow the clearer this becomes to me. There is a style or none, a voice or none. If there is a voice, there is literature. If not, it isn’t literature.

However Camus—amongst very few others—is clearly an exception. He not only talked, he dove in, canvassing the woven link between the soul of Man and his rebellion. From this immersion, he brought back exceptional works, notably The Rebel, a deeply moving and passionate essay on the genesis and history of this rebellion, and Caligula, of course, the play which is the transposition of this Rebel. Not just a simple sketch, nor a dialogued representation, but more: an incarnation.

If, for example, one compared The Rebel to the plans of a mechanical device as drawn by engineers, Caligula would constitute the locomotive itself, charging ahead, never veering from its course, crushing everything in its path.

The second reason behind my choice relates to the fact that while the character of the emperor Caligula may have seemed to Camus to be an excellent illustration of the myth seething through the events of his time—just before WW2—, it is certainly plausible to claim that in our time this myth acts overtly and has become…omnipresent. It has even succeeded, in the Western public spheres at least, to repress anything that might tend to contradict it. Revenge against life and its corollary, the cult of pure blind power, are to be seen everywhere today. Signs of their reign assault our eyes, wherever we look.

In one word: Albert Camus has left us an extraordinarily inspiring body of work that can undoubtedly help us to better define who we are, what drives us, and to better understand our fellow man as well as our era.

At the heart of this work is Caligula.

Albert Camus has achieved with Caligula what Sigmund Freud, in his own times, has done through Oedipus: from an ancient story, he has brought forward an essential myth for all men of all eras. And he has given it a name.

The story line? Very simple.

The Emperor of Rome, beloved by all, has just lost Drusilla his sister who was also his lover. And he becomes a monster. Why? Because this loss makes him see that, simply put, ”Men die; and they are not happy.”

Drusilla’s death has awaken in him a yearning for the impossible. In his quest, he will be ruthless.

My wish for you, Mr. Prime Minister, is that reading this appalling yet magnificent play will provide you with as luminous a source of inspiration as it has for me.

Respectfully,

René-Daniel Dubois O.C.

(Translation by Josette Bélanger)

encl: two books, one inscribed

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