George Orwell once wrote about his experience of shooting an elephant as “enlightening” in that it “gave me a better glimpse than I had had before of the real nature of imperialism—the real motives for which despotic governments act.” Orwell, as a subinspector of police in colonial Burma, was called upon to deal with an elephant that was in heat and wreaking havoc in the bazaar. When an armed Orwell found the elephant, it was behaving peacefully and no longer appeared threatening. However, with over two thousand locals watching him, he realized that he would have to shoot the elephant anyway. As Orwell put it, “The people expected it of me and I had got to do it; I could feel their two thousand wills pressing me forward, irresistibly.” Orwell, as an official of the colonizing nation, was a representative of a system that made certain claims to justify their dominance. His decision regarding the fate of the elephant would result in reinforcing that claim or in ridicule. “And my whole life, every white man’s life in the East, was one long struggle not to be laughed at.”
This story finds an interesting conversation partner in Mark’s telling of John the Baptist’s beheading. Herod hosts a dinner party with many of the local elite in attendance. His unnamed daughter dances for him and his dinner guests. In response, Herod promises the girl up to half his kingdom (*technically* not his to give). She discusses with her mother, Herodias, and comes back asking for John’s head on a platter. Mark 6:20 illustrates the ambiguous way that Herod viewed John; Herod feared him, recognized that he was holy and righteous, protected him, was perplexed by him, and enjoyed listening to him. His ambiguous feelings towards John coupled with his oath and the presence of his dinner guests left Herod “deeply grieved” (περιλυπος, 6:26).
For Herod, his elephant is John and his locals are his dinner guests. Herod promised the girl up to half of his kingdom. Though it is not technically his to give, it is a claim to (imagined) power and authority—a claim made publicly. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for Herod, the girl requests something that he can deliver – the Baptist’s head. For Herod to publicly act in a manner contradictory to his oath would be a threat. He must conform to the ideas legitimating his authority, and he has an audience of powerful elites watching to make sure he does so. Herod, like Orwell in James Scott’s assessment, “is no more free to be himself, to break convention, than a slave would be in the presence of a tyrannical master.”[1] The passive silence of Herod’s dinner guests seals the fate of John the Baptist. Herodias, the character most often held responsible, does little more than advise on her daughter’s request, though the weight of her influence should not be understated. Though Herodias may find the most satisfaction in John’s demise, she has no poåwer in the outcome of the oath and her reaction is not mentioned. However, Herod’s dinner guests, the elite of Galilee, who sit silently, ensure that Herod fulfills his word. They are the “two thousand wills” pressing Herod forward. They exercise an enormous amount of power by their presence; their silence ensures John’s execution.
[1] James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990), 11.
Jillian D. Nelson, PhD 