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opinion

Peter Burian is a professor emeritus of classical studies at Duke University

As a student of ancient Greek theatre, I was amused by Donald Trump's tweet-storm this weekend over what he called "harassment" of Mike Pence.

The cause of the supposed outrage was a brief speech addressed to the vice-president-elect following a performance last Friday of the hit musical Hamilton. As the cast stood on stage for their curtain call, one of the lead actors, Brandon Victor Dixon, politely but clearly expressed the cast's shared apprehension: "We, sir, we are the diverse America who are alarmed and anxious that your new administration will not protect us, our planet, our children, our parents, or defend us and uphold our inalienable rights."

Related: When Hamilton actor appealed to Mike Pence, theatre showed its strength

Related: Pence says he's not offended by comments to him at 'Hamilton' show

Related: Trump demands apology after 'Hamilton' actor addresses VP-elect Pence from stage

Mr. Pence listened to Mr. Dixon from the lobby, and on Fox News Sunday allowed that he was not offended by what he heard. But Mr. Trump, not surprisingly, was. He seems incapable of letting any slight, however slight, pass untweeted. It's as if he's actively courting the "demagogue" label hurled at him during the campaign.

Greek comedy provides an ironic perch from which to examine Mr. Trump's reaction. We need only consider an early work (5th-century BCE) by Athens' great comic playwright Aristophanes, a politically themed musical comedy like Hamilton called The Knights. In it, Aristophanes attacks a successful populist politician named Cleon who became for the Athenians the paradigm of the demagogue.

Like America's president-elect, Cleon was a wealthy scion of the commercial class, a man with a penchant for litigation (he apparently sued Aristophanes) and possessing a somewhat uncouth but charismatic manner. For his supporters, he was a breath of fresh air because he did not belong to the traditional political class and promised to steer Athens to success in its war with Sparta. To his opponents, his bravado, apparent lack of scruples and blatant appeal to the crowd seemed to place the very institution of democracy in jeopardy.

If Mr. Trump wants to know what theatrical harassment looks like, he need only read The Knights, which is unsparing in its satire and exults in verbal abuse. By such standards, the polite address to Mr. Pence at the end of Hamilton was a model of deference and decorum.

On further reflection, I was upset by the suggestion that even the mildest criticism could now be regarded as off limits. Mr. Trump apparently believes the theatre is (of all things) a "safe space." According to his second tweet, "The theatre must always be a safe and special place. The cast of Hamilton was very rude last night to a very good man, Mike Pence. Apologize!"

The theatre as an institution is certainly a special place, but only sometimes a safe one. The rich history of theatrical censorship would be enough to establish that point. For me, however, the most telling point is that the tradition – which it set under way more than 2,500 years ago – was shaped by the ideas and practices of democratic speech.

Whatever the flaws of the Athenian democracy, and there were many, it deserves credit for having at its heart the citizen's right to speak freely in the public square, in the assembly where laws were debated and enacted, and in the theatre. Democracy was then and is still the form of governance that leaves everything open for discussion, including democracy itself.

Drama, intrinsically dialogic, draws the breath of life from characters in conflict, opposing points of view, the clash of ideas. In ancient Athens, the theatre was in many ways the school of democracy, where hearing characters confront each other's perspectives helped citizens listen to, make sense of, and participate in democratic debate. The experience was never meant to be "safe" and in the case of tragedy was often (as it still can be) deeply disturbing.

Today, when the virtual worlds of the Internet and so-called social media have largely supplanted civil conversation on matters of public concern, live theatre is one of the last remaining spaces where people can come together in shared engagement with important ideas and emotions. But how often does this happen as directly as it did last Friday evening?

Donald Trump's objection to even so mild a form of dissent implies that the role of the theatre is to offer entertainment to an audience that doesn't care to be confronted with gratuitous opinions from those it hired to entertain them.

If that is so, what public space is left for face-to-face expression of critical, contentious or contrarian views? What school of democracy will we have?

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