On Superstition, Suicide, and Dangerous Sentiments
By Karisa Poedjirahardjo
The tragic story of The Butterfly Lovers spirals towards a tragic ending when Shanbo dies out of lovesickness, and Yingtai subsequently jumps into a crack in the earth to join him in death. In the ballad version, the two almost immediately turn into butterflies so that they may fulfill their destiny as lovers in this next life. This happy ending satisfies the need of audience members to feel a sense of closure and hope. However, I struggle to agree with romanticized opinions in calling this text a “love story.” In fact, I struggle to call any story that turns towards death as a solution a “love” story.
Simply turning Yingtai and Shanbo into butterflies, leaving behind all their worldly responsibilities and burdens, seems like a cop-out move. It is is comparable to the “deus-ex-machina” technique in greek theatre, whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem is suddenly and abruptly resolved by the intervention of a higher power (usually a god). This easily strikes readers as laziness. As if the writer ran out of ideas, or did not bother to think of a legitimate solution. Not only does this plot device portray a bad example of human capability, it is also a dangerous way of thinking. Why? because it breeds a culture of lending responsibility to higher powers instead of finding our own solutions to worldly problems. Moreover, in this case, it defends the belief that the amount of pain one goes through for their partner is a measure of how much they love that person. That is the root of toxic relationships. Killing yourself for your loved one is not romantic, it’s irresponsible. To me, love that is healthy, instead, involves persevering through hardships together, and sharing the weight of worldly burdens.
On Superstition, Suicide, and Dangerous Sentiments
On Superstition, Suicide, and Dangerous Sentiments
By Karisa Poedjirahardjo
The tragic story of The Butterfly Lovers spirals towards a tragic ending when Shanbo dies out of lovesickness, and Yingtai subsequently jumps into a crack in the earth to join him in death. In the ballad version, the two almost immediately turn into butterflies so that they may fulfill their destiny as lovers in this next life. This happy ending satisfies the need of audience members to feel a sense of closure and hope. However, I struggle to agree with romanticized opinions in calling this text a “love story.” In fact, I struggle to call any story that turns towards death as a solution a “love” story.
Simply turning Yingtai and Shanbo into butterflies, leaving behind all their worldly responsibilities and burdens, seems like a cop-out move. It is is comparable to the “deus-ex-machina” technique in greek theatre, whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem is suddenly and abruptly resolved by the intervention of a higher power (usually a god). This easily strikes readers as laziness. As if the writer ran out of ideas, or did not bother to think of a legitimate solution. Not only does this plot device portray a bad example of human capability, it is also a dangerous way of thinking. Why? because it breeds a culture of lending responsibility to higher powers instead of finding our own solutions to worldly problems. Moreover, in this case, it defends the belief that the amount of pain one goes through for their partner is a measure of how much they love that person. That is the root of toxic relationships. Killing yourself for your loved one is not romantic, it’s irresponsible. To me, love that is healthy, instead, involves persevering through hardships together, and sharing the weight of worldly burdens.
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