 There
is something diabolical about the pleasure we humans receive in
exacting revenge. We love to see someone who we think has wronged us
get their come-uppance. We flock to movies and get suckered in by
television programs that set us up by creating a straw man who is pure
evil, and then in the most blatant manipulation of base human emotion,
allow us to revel in the anger, violence and vicarious joy of seeing
the protagonist exact revenge. We espouse "an eye for an eye, a tooth
for a tooth", tacitly or explicitly in our teachings of children, in
our religions, and in our moral and ethical codes, in our personal
lives and in business. We embrace capital punishment as a means for the
families of victims to 'see justice done' and 'bring closure to their
grief'.
Only humans, to our knowledge, seek, relish and celebrate revenge. Why?
Charles Taylor, in Friday's Salon.com, expands on his review of the new Denzel Washington/Tony Scott film Man on Fire
to try to answer this question. He describes the long history of
Hollywood's celebration and veneration of the revenge of heroes. He
then goes on to suggest that what was played out at Abu Ghraib, and in
thousands of less publicized acts of war retribution around the world,
and throughout human history, may not be isolated acts of overzealous
and unusually unbalanced individuals, but rather an endemic living out
of revenge fantasies, the personal version of the vicarious experience
of revenge fantasies that draws millions to blockbuster movies to
witness brutal, horrifically violent, yet retaliatory and hence
'righteous' acts. Does our fierce desire for revenge -- over 9/11, over
the damned Iraqi insurgent ingrates who won't accept us as liberators,
over every indignity and rebuff and psychological atrocity inflicted on
us personally, or on 'our people', however broadly or narrowly we
define that term -- cause us to take quiet pleasure in acts of revenge
by 'our people' -- whether they be manipulative Hollywood renditions or
real life retaliations against 'others'? In our minds, in our search
for blood vengeance, are we all too willing to substitute Saddam
Hussein for Osama Bin Laden, and the nameless naked Iraqis in Abu
Ghraib for the cowards who killed and publicly displayed the bodies of
innocent Americans? And to substitute the latest one-dimensional evil
character in the latest Hollywood film for every monster who ever
caused us or those we love grief, pain, or humiliation throughout our
lives? Taylor goes on:
If it hasn't already, the
brutality at Abu Ghraib is sure to be branded not an aberration but
business as usual for America and the military. And clearly, there are
many who support the war who think that there's not much to worry about
if it is business as usual -- who think that it should be business as
usual. Both sides are arguing for accepting a vision of America that
exceeds the self-hating one of the Vietnam years -- America with the
brakes off, with all pretense of restraint and all ideas of honorable
conduct abandoned. This is an argument for America not as representing
a better possibility, but as meting out justice that aims to equal any
violence done to it. This is self-hatred as the road to
self-celebration, an embrace of our worst impulses in the name of
strength and unity...[The impulses of the torturers] are not alien to
us...We have all been the heroes of the vigilante movies playing in our
minds.
Taylor concludes by commending the television series '24' because, unlike Man on Fire
and most of the Hollywood revenge movies, it at least forces us to
question our fascination, our fantasization, our grim pleasure in
taking part in or witnessing a savage and brutal act of vengeance.
I have described before in these pages the theory that human violence
is an expression of psychological illness brought about by abuse,
neglect and/or repression during our vulnerable youth, our formative
years, which in turn is ultimately caused by the ubiquitous stress of
overpopulation, scarcity and "the fear of not having enough". In that
context it seems plausible to me that the pleasure we take in
witnessing the misery and suffering of those we hold responsible for
heinous acts against us, or those we love, could be merely an extension
of that mental illness. So enjoying
watching Dirty Harry or Walker Texas Ranger or Denzel Washington
blowing away the 'bad guys' in the most gruesome and painful way
possible, would then be a sign of madness, the same madness that caused
the frightened, empowered, indoctrinated young men and women to torture
prisoners at Abu Ghraib with such obvious delight. Are we all in
serious denial over the sheer depravity to which we have sunk, a
species in such adrenal overload that we cannot see, or feel, what we
are doing to ourselves, each other, and this fucked-up world?
Recently a friend reminded me about one of my favourite TV shows of all
time, the mid-1960s one-season Emmy-winning series called The Rogues.
This brilliant series featured a global cast (Charles Boyer, David
Niven and Gig Young from France, UK and US respectively, pictured
above, as well as Gladys Cooper and Robert Coote) who each week used
their wiles to undo a tyrant, a thief, or a con-man, by taking back
from him or her exactly what they took from their victim, and returning
it to the victim. Since the baddies were usually wealthy, the Rogues
also exacted a small additional amount as compensation for their
effort. The show was clever, charming, and satisfying, but unlike newer
revenge programs and films there was no violence, no humiliation
(though there was sometimes some embarrassment of the baddie in front
of his/her peers). The Rogues never showed anger, there was no
emotional manipulation of the audience, and retribution was attained by
trickery, by intelligence, never by force. Some might say the
punishment never quite equalled the crime, though the baddie's vices
(greed, corruption, ego) were always cleverly used against them to
redress the wrong they had perpetrated.
Maybe we need Hollwood to help us in our healing, instead of pandering to our psychological illness, by bringing back The Rogues
and other series that teach us intelligent responses to malicious
actions and events. Maybe then we could stop thinking so much about
payback for wrongs, and start thinking about paying forward the
positive things -- the compliments, the kind gestures, the favours, the
acts of gentleness and courtesy and good will -- that serve to make our
world a better place.
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MADE IN CANADA
trust your
instincts 
