The Flies by Jean-Paul Sartre
"The Flies" is a play by Jean-Paul Sartre that explores themes of guilt, responsibility, and the struggle for individual autonomy against societal norms. Set in Argos, fifteen years after the murder of Agamemnon, the narrative follows Orestes, his son, who returns to the city under a false identity. He discovers a populace burdened by collective guilt for their inaction during Agamemnon's death, haunted by swarms of flies—metaphors for their remorse and fear. The city’s atmosphere is oppressive, with its citizens trapped in a cycle of atonement, symbolized by the annual "day of the dead" ceremonies.
Central to the play is Electra, Orestes’ sister, who embodies rebellion against the tyranny of Aegistheus and Clytemnestra but is also marked by her longing for vengeance. As Orestes learns more about the city and his sister’s plight, he feels an increasing sense of alienation and a desire to belong. The drama intensifies as Orestes ultimately decides to take vengeance by killing Aegistheus and Clytemnestra, claiming that he acts for the people's freedom from guilt. However, the outcome leaves Electra disillusioned and compliant, suggesting that the chains of guilt and societal expectation are difficult to break. The conclusion is ambiguous, leaving Orestes' fate and the future of Argos uncertain.
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The Flies by Jean-Paul Sartre
First produced:Les Mouches, 1943; first published, 1943 (English translation, 1946)
Type of work: Drama
Type of plot: Existentialism
Time of plot: Antiquity
Locale: Argos, Greece
Principal characters
Orestes , Agamemnon’s son and heir to the throne of ArgosElectra , his sisterClytemnestra , his motherAegistheus , the ruler of Argos after Agamemnon’s deathThe Pedagogue , Orestes’ tutorZeus , the king of the godsThe Erinyes , the Furies
The Story:
Fifteen years pass since the slaying of Agamemnon. Orestes, Agamemnon’s son, arrives in Argos with his tutor. He travels under another name, for Aegistheus, who has ruled in Argos since killing Agamemnon, ordered him killed while he was still a child. Orestes, however, was saved and reared by wealthy Athenians. Orestes is eager to visit Argos, for his mother, Clytemnestra, now shares the throne with Aegistheus. His sister Electra is also still in Argos. Orestes arrives, not as one seeking vengeance but as a tourist. Young, rich, handsome, and well educated, he is free of obligations and commitments, light as air, and apparently reasonably happy to be so. He finds a city in which the atmosphere is leaden and oppressive. He receives no answer to his requests for directions, and the first person to address a word to him is an idiot. It is as though a conspiracy exists to exclude him from the affairs of the city.

The truth is that the people of Argos are so involved with their own problem that they are quite incapable of seeing beyond it. The problem from which they suffer is that they assumed a burden of collective guilt. Fifteen years before, they did nothing to prevent Agamemnon’s death; instead of admitting their responsibility, they wrapped themselves up in remorse. This uniform pattern of behavior suits the god Zeus, since it holds Aegistheus’s subjects in check and leaves little scope for personal initiative. Another sinister, persistent presence is swarms of flies, sent by the gods to plague the populace as a constant reminder of their guilt. Death seems to be curiously intermingled with life in this city of frightened people. Repentance is even institutionalized. Once a year, on the anniversary of Agamemnon’s death, the “day of the dead” is announced.
One person in Argos, however, remains independent and defiant. Electra, though treated as a slave by her mother and Aegistheus, is rebellious. Contemptuous of the general fear and superstition, she lets it be known to Orestes, who did not yet reveal his true identity, that she lives only for the day when her brother will come to seek vengeance. At the same time, however, Electra is pathetic and occasionally childlike. While she vilifies Zeus with all her might, she also betrays her longing for warmth and affection in her questions about other cities of Greece. When Orestes asks her if she ever thinks of fleeing, she answers that she lacks the courage to do so because she will be afraid on the roads by herself. Electra, however, also has a fixed attitude. She feels a thirst for vengeance that does not ring true or confident when set alongside her gentleness in other matters. As is foreseeable, Orestes becomes sufficiently curious about the city, or sufficiently interested in the plight of his sister, to decide to remain a little longer in Argos.
At the beginning of the second act, the scene changes from Argos to a mountain slope outside the city. The people are gathered for the rites of the “day of the dead” and for the release of the dead from the underworld, for it is made known that a rock on the mountainside conceals the entrance to the underworld. Once a year, this rock is rolled back, and dead acquaintances of the people of Argos come back to torture the city’s conscience. On this occasion, Aegistheus arrives late for the ceremonies, which he himself instituted. The solid, impenetrable fear of the crowd begins to give way to blind panic, as they feel quite helpless without some leadership when facing the presence of the dead. After Aegistheus appears and the stone is rolled back, the crowd—men, women, and even children—beg for pity and ask forgiveness for being alive.
Into this uncanny, grotesque, hysterical atmosphere steps Electra. Fired by what Orestes describes to her as happy, sunny towns elsewhere in Greece, she tells the crowd to throw off its burden of guilt. For a brief time, the assembled people listen hopefully. She, however, is no match for Zeus. Displaying his divine powers, he sends the stone that was supposed to bar the entrance to the underworld crashing against the steps of the temple built on the mountainside. Awed, the crowd turns against Electra.
In this sclerotic society, whose organization for fifteen years was hardened from above, no change from inside seems possible. Through contact with Orestes, Electra becomes enterprising enough to attempt a change. Electra’s only weapon, however, is words, and her effort, though noble, is inevitably futile. It is to a considerable extent through Electra that Orestes becomes fully involved in the affairs of Argos and commits himself to a course of action. He reveals his identity to her. Electra, bewildered by the disproportion between her expectations and the Orestes she sees before her, cannot conceal her disappointment. The change is not sudden, but, more than ever, Orestes is conscious of his meaninglessness in Argos and elsewhere. Bitterly regretful, he says that he barely exists, for he is ignorant of the deep passions of living men and women.
He affirms that he wants to belong fully to the town and that he wishes to draw it to him. Still unsure of himself, however, he tries to appeal to a higher authority. Zeus, lurking in the background, is only too glad to suggest that Orestes continue in the path of humility. At this, Orestes rebels; he realizes that he must commit himself, that it is he who must make a decision. He decides that, in the circumstances, there is only one course that can be followed. He plans and executes the killing of Aegistheus and Clytemnestra.
In the end, in a speech to the people of Argos, Orestes claims that he killed for their sake, to free them. He proclaims that he assumes their guilt and that they need no longer be afraid. Taking the burden of guilt from the city, Orestes flees Argos. Electra, however, does not have the strength to follow Orestes. It is as though, in slaying Clytemnestra and Aegistheus, Orestes took away her one reason for living: her desire for vengeance. Zeus did not have much trouble in winning her over to the side of those who spend their lives in atonement. At the end of the play, Electra becomes credulous, tractable, repentant. No explanation is offered of where Orestes flees or of what happens to Argos.
Bibliography
Champigny, Robert. Sartre and Drama. Birmingham, Ala.: French Literature Publications, 1982. After first developing a critical discussion based on Sartre’s dramatic theories, this brief and well-argued monograph shows, by examining individual plays, that Sartre did not always put his theories into practice in his plays.
Contat, Michel, and Michel Rybalka, eds. Sartre on Theater. Translated by Frank Jellinek. New York: Pantheon Books, 1976. A handy anthology of various documents written by Sartre about the theater. Includes the jacket copy for the French publication of The Flies in book form, as well as excerpts of press interviews and articles pointing out the political content of this play.
McCall, Dorothy. The Theatre of Jean-Paul Sartre. New York: Columbia University Press, 1969. An excellent overview of Sartre’s dramatic works with special emphasis on their philosophical, literary, psychological, and sociological ideas and values. Includes a useful bibliography.
O’Donohoe, Benedict. “Myth-Making: Bariona: Ou, Le Fils du tonnerre, Les Mouches, Huis clos.” In Sartre’s Theatre: Acts for Life. New York: Peter Lang, 2005. Reappraises Sartre’s plays, including The Flies, drawing on his writings about philosophy, literature, and criticism. Situates each play in relation to Sartre’s intellectual evolution and its broader historical context. Provides a survey of the journalistic and academic reception for each play.
Rickman, H. P. “The Death of God: Nietzsche’s Influence on Sartre’s The Flies.” In Philosophy in Literature. Madison, N.J.: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 1996. Focuses on the philosophical ideas in the play.
Rowley, Hazel. Tête-à-Tête: Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre. New York: HarperCollins, 2005. Rowley chronicles the relationship between the two French writers, discussing their writing, their politics, their philosophical legacy, and their commitment to each other. Includes bibliography and index.
Schilpp, Paul A., ed. The Philosophy of Jean-Paul Sartre. La Salle, Ill.: Open Court, 1981. Intelligent and scholarly presentation of the different aspects of Sartrean philosophy. Of particular interest to readers of The Flies are the chapters concerned with bad faith, authenticity, freedom, essence, and commitment.
Spoerri, Theophil. “The Structure of Existence: The Flies.” In Sartre: A Collection of Critical Essays, edited by Edith Kern. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1962. An imaginative and penetrating interpretation exploring not only the play’s main themes and characters but also the difficult obstacle of reconciling Orestes’ ethical revolt with his love for his people.