Classic English literature

23 November 2011

'Savage' vs. 'Civilised' Masculinity in the Epic of Gilgamesh

The Epic of Gilgamesh was created in Mesopotamia in the 7 th century BC and is considered one of

the first written epics surviving to our days. It follows the feats of Gilgamesh, the king of Uruk, and Enkidu,

first his rival and then his friend. Both Gilgamesh and Enkidu, as epic heroes (and thus models for male

readers or listeners), are generously endowed by the unknown poet with personal traits regarded as highly

desirable in the society. Interestingly enough, the heroes are not static. Paradoxically, one of the oldest epics

forestalled those written centuries later, getting closer to modern literature: the heroes’ personality undergo

a certain change in the course of the epic. Thus, masculinity is represented in the Epic of Gilgamesh in its

dynamics: from savage to civilised; from lawless, cruel and lustful to just, generous and self-controlling;

from near-animal to super-human. It is dynamics with its ups and downs, not a mere miraculous

metamorphosis, and the evolution is drawn by two central forces: love and suffering.

Probably every epic hero in every national tradition is strong and courageous. Actually, these seem

to be the first traits the word ‘hero’ suggests. These traits have been admired ever since the first epic was

created, and they pertain both to the savage and civilized hero. Gilgamesh and Enkidu possess both traits in

plenty. Their physical strength is incomparable. Gilgamesh “met with none who could withstand his arms”

(62), and Enkidu was created his equal – or as nearly his equal as possible. To emphasise their might they

are constantly compared with bulls throughout the text. As for courage, they possess it as well. More than

that, it is courage in a very modern sense of the word – “Courage is doing what you’re afraid to do; there

can be no courage unless you’re scared,” as it was defined by the fighter ace Edward Vernon Rickenbacker.

When they set off to fight a terrible monster Humbaba, they in turns get discouraged and rally each other’s

courage, overcoming their fear and defeating their monstrous adversary.

However, keeping their strength and courage, both epic heroes change noticeably in other respects.

Probably the most obvious change is connected with their appearance. When Enkidu is first created by

Aruru, the goddess of creation, “his body was rough, he had long hair like a woman's; it waved like the hair
of Nisaba, the goddess of corn. His body was covered with matted hair like Samuqan's, the god of cattle. He

was innocent of mankind; he knew nothing of the cultivated land” (62). It is a portrait of an animal or a

savage. However, his intercourse with a harlot from Uruk brings him to civilization both literally and

metaphorically. First, he is brought to the city, and on his way he partakes of two more things which

transform him from a beast into a god-like hero: clothes and human food, the beast’s hair can now be

“rubbed down” from his body. Gilgamesh’s looks undergo an opposite change when he loses his friend: he

behaves like a savage or an animal (“He began to rage like a lion, like a lioness robbed of her

whelps… He dragged off his splendid robes and flung them down as though they were abominations.”

(79)). The author does not only emphasise the hero’s grief, the change seems symbolic. Gilgamesh ‘gets

back’ his human looks after he completes his quest for ultimate knowledge, before starting his way back

from his visit to Utnapishtim.

The most cardinal change appears to be Gilgamesh’s metamorphosis from a lawless tyrant into the

ruler, endowed with “the power to bind and to loose” and “dealing justly before the face of the Sun” (66).

Before his encounter with Enkidu, “his arrogance has no bounds by day or night. No son is left with his

father, for Gilgamesh takes them all, even the children; yet the king should be a shepherd to his people. His

lust leaves no virgin to her lover, neither the warrior's daughter nor the wife of the noble; yet this is

the shepherd of the city, wise, comely, and resolute’”(62). In other words, he uses his power to satisfy his

desires without any regard to other people. Actually, for him they are not people, they are his subjects – or,

rather, objects of his desire. Enkidu was created by gods to hinder Gilgamesh in his lawlessness – and the

gods achieved their goal. The fight with Enkidu, the rival giant, results not only in Gilgamesh’s victory and

ennobling friendship with Enkidu. They also start to look for an adventure worthy of them, as the friendship

of two heroes makes them in their union stronger than each of them had been, and perform glorious deeds.

Another transformation regards sexuality. Lust plays a dual role in the epic. On the one hand,

Gilgamesh’s raping the women and girls of Uruk before his friendship with Enkidu is just a manifestation of

his strength, uncontrolled and uncontrollable, condemned by the gods, who seek to put a stop to it. On the

other hand, Enkidu’s converting into a civilized man starts with his intercourse with a prostitute, brought by

a hunter from Uruk. It is what awakens a human being in him and closes the path back to the animal life he

had been leading. It seems that the controversy might be resolved. Gilgamesh’s amorous adventures can
hardly be called such, as there is nothing of love there – wives and daughters of his subjects are just

instruments for satisfying his lust. For Enkidu his encounter with the harlot is a discovery of humanity: for

the first time in his life comes into a contact with another human being and recognises himself as a man – in

fact, as human. From his encounter originates his thirst for human society: “When she had spoken Enkidu

was pleased; he longed for a comrade, for one who would understand his heart” (63). Interestingly, Enkidu’s

life in Uruk starts in the role of defender of the institution of marriage: he is told that “Gilgamesh the king is

about to celebrate marriage with the Queen of Love, and he still demands to be first with the bride, the

king to be first and the husband to follow. <…> At these words Enkidu turned white in the face. 'I will

go to the place where Gilgamesh lords it over the people, I will challenge him boldly, and I will cry aloud in

Uruk, "I have come to change the old order, for I am the strongest here"' (65). As we know, he does not win

the fight, but the old order does change. Gilgamesh, meeting his equal and defeating him not without

difficulty, for the first time sees a human being in another human being. Not only does the friendship begin,

but the king’s attitude towards his subject undergoes a change. He learns to control his lust – in fact, he

becomes occupied with other things, so that he meets advances of Ishtar, the goddess of love and war quite

coolly, though poetically: “But as for making you my wife - that I will not. How would it go with me? Your

lovers have found you like a brazier which smoulders in the cold, a backdoor which keeps out neither squall

of wind nor storm, a castle which crushes the garrison, pitch that blackens the bearer, a water-skin that

chafes tile carrier, a stone which falls from the parapet, a battering ram turned back from the enemy, a

sandal that trips the wearer. Which of your lovers did you ever love for ever?” (74).

Finally, the most important transformation which takes place in the epic regards strength and

knowledge. They seem almost to be opposed. While mere strength, without the guidance of the mind,

belongs to savage masculinity, knowledge, intelligence and wisdom are values not only civilized, but

downright modern. Acquiring knowledge, one loses super-human (or rather pre-human, animal) physical

strength. Enkidu’s gaining self-identification is attended by his loss of his former animal vitality: “his body

was bound as though with a cord, his knees gave way when lie started to run, his swiftness was gone”. The

epic reveals the evolution which takes place in Gilgamesh as well – from strength uncontrollable, bursting

outside, harmful and non-creative to strength steered by mind and directed to the benefit of humanity. In the

final part of the poem Gilgamesh goes on a quest. His quest begins after the death of Enkidu, and is caused
by his grief for his friend and his wish to fight death with sacral knowledge – how to become an immortal

god. He seems to fail and succeed in his quest at the same time. Overcoming many dangers, he reaches

Utnapishtim, but fails the test of staying awake for six days and seven nights. He learns the secret of the

plant that restores youth and manages to get it – only to see it eaten by a snake. In this final part of the epic

physical strength is a mere means of obtaining ultimate knowledge. However, remaining human, Gilgamesh

seems closer to his people – he does not leave them, becoming a god, but stays with them as a model of

masculine virtues. Given that Gilgamesh probably was a historical person, the epic might thus symbolically

describe the transformation which his personality underwent through sorrow for his friend’s death.

Bertrand Russell in his History of Western Philosophy wrote: “The civilized man is distinguished

from the savage mainly by prudence, or, to use a slightly wider term, forethought. He is willing to endure

present pains for the sake of future pleasures, even if the future pleasures are rather distant”. The Epic of

Gilgamesh shows that a civilized man is distinguished from savage by recognizing man in another. Joy of

like-mindedness and harmonious friendship and pain of losing a friend are a moving force which make one

see oneself anew, acquire new knowledge of oneself and rise to a new level of humanity.
 The Epic of Gilgamesh. Trans. Sandars N.K. Penguin Classics, 1960. Print.

Foster Benjamin. “Gilgamesh: Sex, Love and the Ascent of Knowledge.” Gilgamesh: a Reader. Ed.

Laurie Haight. 63-78. Wauconda, Illionois: Bolchazy-Carducci Publishers, 1997. Print.