Schadenfreude. It's a German word that literally
means "joy from damage". It refers to the perverse pleasure we take in
observing or hearing about the misfortunes of others. That pleasure
seems to be enhanced by talking
about it with others -- gossip would be empty without it, and when we
hear about a disaster, like the horrendous catastrophe of this week's
Asian earthquake and tsunami, we have an almost instinctive need to
share the news with others.
If you don't think it's pleasure we feel in these situations, here are some more examples:
- Our reaction when we hear that another couple's marriage has broken up, or suffered a sex scandal
- Our reaction when someone we know (but don't love) loses their job, or their life savings
- Our reaction when we hear of an unexpected death or tragedy outside our immediate circle of family or friends
- The pleasure we get from comedy that recounts the
protagonists' stupid, catastrophic or pathetic behaviours and their
consequences
- The satisfaction we get from hearing about criminals' dire, even cruel, punishments
- Reality TV
- The joy many felt at the bursting of the dot-com bubble
- Our media-pandered fascination with celebrities' scandals
- The pleasure we get from winning a game or sporting event, that we wouldn't get if there wasn't a 'loser'
- The popularity of movies that dwell on, and exploit war, suffering, and horror
There's even a book, When Bad Things Happen to Other People,
on the subject, written by John Portmann. Portmann believes
Schadenfreude is harmless, a natural and healthy stress-buster. At the
other extreme, the sublime ecstasy that psychopaths feel when their
lies and bullying and manipulation cause misery to their victims is
extremely harmful, and perrhaps addictive. How dangerous and unhealthy
is this all-too-human proclivity? And why do we feel this way at all?
Is it because others' misfortune, in a world of scarcity and
competition, vindicates our own behaviours and decisions, increases our
own stock and our self-perceived likelihood of success, or at least
survival?
Writer Valerie Weaver-Zercher suggests
what may be behind this is our dual need to see others as needy (which
plays to the nurturer in us) and to see ourselves as not needy (which
plays to our egos, and our feelings of learned helplessness).
She calls this the "head-shaking syndrome". Some writers say it
reflects a subliminal (or not-so-subliminal) desire for revenge against
those we feel have wronged us or shown us up in some way.
I confess I'm like Calvin's Dad in the cartoon above: I don't get it,
though I recognize it seems to drive an enormous amount of human
behaviour and activity. I loathe reality TV and the plethora of
programs and films that wallow in human misery and suffering. I love
games, and play to win, but afterwards I feel badly for the 'losers',
and it is the social and learning aspect, rather than the competitive
aspect, that I enjoy: I would get as much, if not more, pleasure from a
collaborative social activity that everybody 'won'. I find comedy that
ridicules and humiliates people to be pathetic and exploitative, not
funny at all. And although I have been predicting a growing cascade of
social, economic and ecological catastrophes, I will get no pleasure
from being proved correct. I change the station when news comes on
about disasters, crimes, and the undoing of celebrities: If there's
nothing I can do about these things, to me it seems merely morbid to
dwell on them. Can someone please explain to me how these things are
pleasurable, or even cathartic? What perverse joy can anyone get
watching people eat worms, women screaming at the loss of a child,
athletes and film stars humiliated, losers of card games groan, or
stand-ups reveal grotesque embarrassments from their past? Taking joy
from these things seems deranged to me, evidence of great mental
distress and anguish, or at best a bizarre, reality-detached ennui.
But I will admit to a strange desire to spread bad news about others
(though only if I know the news to be true -- I don't traffic in
rumour). I don't know what's behind this. Maybe it's my natural
pessimism, an opportunity to say 'I told you so', to warn people: If
John and Mary are breaking up, we should all be alarmed -- maybe all
marriages are doomed, or maybe monogamy itself is unnatural,
unsustainable, and Tom Robbins' warning of the staggering difficulty of
'making love last' needs to be heeded. If Frank lost his job, perhaps
this shows that all business hierarchies are fragile, uncaring, poised
to destroy the lives of those who rely on them and allow them to
continue. If Bill took his own life, maybe he's the brave one, the
harbinger of the future, the canary in the coal mineshaft. I love to
learn, to attach meaning to things, and bad news seems to call out for
explanation, for interpretation of meaning. Why would our amazing
planet be designed to suddenly shudder, and drown millions of her
creatures in a tidal wave of misery, and destroy the joyous lives of
tens of millions of others? What possible reason could there be for
such cruelty, such devastation? Someone, please, stop telling me how
many died, and instead tell me why?
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