Hamlet: Supernatural Suspense and The Ethics of War

Hamlet and His Father's Ghost by William Blake (1806)

I’m absolutely amazed by this play. There are so many layers! This was easily my fifth or sixth time reading it, and yet I continue to find new elements. On the surface, there is certainly enough action and excitement to entertain the casual observer, but apparently close readers can come back again and again, each time well-rewarded for their time and trouble. It seems perfectly clear to me why this play garners so much attention, why it is so synonymous with Shakespeare’s genius, why it is the go-to play at every level of education: it is just that good.



If the supernatural is what hooks my attention in Hamlet, it is the suspense which keeps it. The ghost of Hamlet’s dead father shows up, asking Hamlet avenge his murder. So, okay: that’s heavy. But now Hamlet has to wrestle with not only the slings and arrows of this world, but also of the next. Can you trust a ghost, even when it does look that familiar? Even if you can trust him, how can you get revenge for your father’s death when the murderer is now king? And even if you can manage that, what kind of eternal damnation might you be signing up for if you do? Physically, psychologically, and spiritually Hamlet finds himself on dangerous ground.

As interesting as they are in and of themselves, there’s more to debate in Hamlet than just the intentions of the ghost and the ethics of revenge. If war is the marriage of politics and violence [forgive the oversimplification], then there really is a war being waged here, with Hamlet and Claudius on either side of the chessboard, each doing his best to out-maneuver the other. And in this line of thinking, Hamlet’s hero status gets pretty complicated. In the king’s case, killing your brother to steal his crown and his wife is clearly enough to make you a villain (sorry, Claudius), so he’s in the wrong well before he has any showdown with his young nephew Hamlet. But, for Hamlet, even if we were to allow an “eye for an eye” justification for an act of personal revenge; that fails to cover what becomes his significantly longer rap sheet.

The problem is that for all the care Hamlet takes before enacting his revenge on the actual villain, he winds up taking comparatively little care with the lives of others. The specific charges are debatable (reckless endangerment, conspiracy, manslaughter, first-degree murder, funeral-crashing, etc.), but there is no question that Hamlet’s revenge, directly or indirectly, leaves more people dead than his father’s murderer did. [Personally, I’m blaming six on Hamlet, though you could argue seven or even eight.]

So okay, people died; but that’s war, right? Not so fast. I’m not sure he’s got a leg to stand on even if we grant him the war label. Applying my subpar understanding of Just War Theory, there are six conditions that should be met. Let’s see how many our Danish prince has going for him:

1. Just Cause – Here is the great debate: is there a justifiable revenge? Even with Claudius killing Hamlet’s father, I’m not prepared to say that Hamlet is justified in killing him. You could try to argue the specific code of that time period, but it seems from the play that Hamlet himself is uncertain of it, so no deal. 0 for 1

2. Right Intention – Even if avenging your father’s death could be considered having the right intention, trying to decide for yourself where he goes after you kill him (see 3.3.77-101) is clearly a step further than you were called to take. There’s the hubris if anybody was looking for it. 0 for 2

3. Proper Authority and Public Declaration – As the murdered king’s son and heir, it would seem that Hamlet had proper authority to do something, but to kill the king without trial? I don’t know about old school Danish law, but that seems less than proper. Hamlet works in secret, rather than attempting any public political maneuvering, so the public declaration piece is out. In fact, the end of the play is basically “Geez. We better get out there and tell everybody what happened before they freak out,” so clearly the public was in the dark from start to finish. 0 for 3

4. Last Resort – Was physical violence Hamlet’s last resort? Did he even consider staying at any others? This seems to be a really good question. It’s easy to say “No, it wasn’t his last resort; he could have exposed Claudius removing him from power.” But when you think about it, what proof did Hamlet have? “A ghost told me.” That’s not exactly strong evidence, unless the ghost would be willing to pop up at the trial and take the stand. However, Hamlet’s attempt to “catch the conscience of the king” clearly had an effect; so maybe all Hamlet had to do is get all Law and Order: Criminal Intent Vincent D’Onofrio style on him and get that confession. It’s possible, but not likely given Hamlet’s circumstances, so I’m willing to give him Last Resort. 1 for 4


The man himself: Vincent D'Onofrio

5. Probability of Success – Does Hamlet succeed in ousting villainy and corruption if the King Claudius is dead? Honestly, it doesn’t seem like anybody else was in on the conspiracy, and the other parties that wind up guilty of something have Claudius pulling their strings. I’ll give Hamlet this one too. 2 for 5

6. Proportionality – Sorry, Hamlet. Claudius killed one guy. Even the most conservative estimates put you with at least four times that many. I’m not allowing the “he started it” argument, though I am very sorry about your dad. 2 for 6, and this one is damning.

So, the war may not have been just, but the play was just awesome. There is so much to be said, so many questions to be asked, so much fascinating psychology and morality. As with all of Shakespeare’s work, there is a timeless relevance here. From any angle, Hamlet is a fascinating study of our humanity, and how easily it can be lost.