The Fate of Satire

Reference to a dictionary will reveal that "satire" is, broadly speaking, a work using humor in such forms as irony and exaggeration to ridicule the vices and stupidity of individuals or entities.  So defined, satire has been around for thousands of years.  In the West, when ancient satirists are considered mention is normally made of Aristophanes among the Greeks, Juvenal, Petronius and Lucian among the Romans.  Martial as well, perhaps, though his satire was far more condensed being in the form of epigrams.  Seneca too, among the Romans, at least for his ridicule of the Emperor Claudius, applying for membership in the fellowship of the gods after his death. There have been many other satirists throughout history--Rabelais, Voltaire, Cervantes, Swift and Poe, for example, are some of the more famous of the lot. 

Satire is generally thought of as a kind of literature, and those named just above are of course writers.  Sometimes, though, drawings and paintings are satirical, like the print by Gillray at the top of this post, called The Plumb Pudding in Danger.  The plumb pudding is, obviously, the world and it's being carved up by William Pitt, Prime Minister of England, and Napoleon, who had by then become Emperor of France.

The quality of satires varies considerably.  So does the kind of humor or style of writing employed by the satirist.  Aristophanes' humor was somewhat farcical, as in his lampooning of Socrates and his circle The Clouds.  Lucian also targeted philosophers and philosophy, as well as other people and things, and was a mocker.  Juvenal's humor was dark and sharp; he had no light touch (I think of his satires as more in the way of rants).  Seneca's satire on Claudius struck me as more cruel than witty.  Rabelais seems to have made use of absurdity in Gargantua and Pantagruel.  Petronius' humor was deadpan, in my opinion.  His Trimalchio is unquestionably vulgar and pompous, but Petronius makes this evident merely by describing his statements and conduct, rather than commenting on them.  Irony seems to have been Swift's weapon of choice.

In these dark times, there's a concern by some that wit and humor, which would include satire, are being restricted if not entirely eliminated by the tendency of some others to condemn those who use them in referring to certain people or groups of people who are perceived as being or having been treated unjustly because of their difference from what's considered normal.  The most recent example that comes to my mind relates to the character Apu in The Simpsons and the apology made by Hank Azaria (his "voice") for his contribution in the stereotypical (though intended to be humorous) depiction of the character running a convenience store.  The apology caused John Cleese, formerly of Monty Python, to apologize for mocking white people as part of that group.

Cleese's point is fairly obvious, I think--that humor, and satire, are used in reference to all people indiscriminately, and should be.  In other words, that no one should be exempt from mockery merely by virtue of what they are.

That makes a certain sense, as does a related claim being made in these dark times--that nobody should be discriminate against, and therefore treating certain people better than others because or their race or religion, for example, is wrong.  From that, of course, it follows (or so it's claimed) that white, Christian people are being discriminated against when others are given certain advantages or benefits, or are deemed to have special claims to be satisfied.

In order for that position to accepted as appropriate, however, it's necessary to assume that we all are in the same position when it comes to treatment by each other, society and government.  If we existed on the fabled "level playing field" then a case can be made that favoring one group or person over another merely because they have a certain skin color or religion or other characteristics would be unjust.  That playing field doesn't exist, however, and never has existed.  To pretend that it does for purposes of complaining about discrimination against currently privileged people is fatuous, and indeed unworthy.  

When we insist that we should treating each other as if we all existed on a level playing field, we acknowledge that it would be desirable that we should live on that level playing field.  If we acknowledge that, though, we have to admit that we don't at this time, at least if we're honest.  So, one would think it would also be desirable that levelling steps should be taken,  But that would mean that those underprivileged or discriminated against unjustly, here and now, be benefited more than those who are not. Unfortunately, that's not something the haves are normally willing to grant the have-nots, particularly if that would mean the haves would have less than they do now.

So, I don't think this is a viable position, even when it comes to humor.  Does that mean that humor, and satire, will inevitably disappear?  

I doubt it, unless we expect that the kind of totalitarian society envisioned by the notoriously humorless Plato and put into place by such as Stalin and Mao will be our future.  The great Roman satirists lived in Imperial Rome, not exactly a free society, and managed to thrive.  I don't think shaming of the kind being practiced now will significantly restrict our tendency to mock and ridicule each other.  As well expect that wars will end.  Perhaps the more egregious kind of ridicule will be reduced, which wouldn't be a bad thing.  Satire is best when it is witty and subtle, not blunt and obvious or offensive.  It will survive all the moralists of this time as it has in the past.

Of Masks and Masques

Edgar Poe (I understand he preferred not to be called "Allan" as he and his foster or adopted father of that name didn't get along) wrote a story entitled The Masque of the Red Death.  It involved a Duke or Count I think, or some titled person, who held a great ball or entertainment while a deadly plague called as you might expect "The Red Death" raged.  It was held behind locked doors; precautions were taken to prevent any uninvited person from entering.  As the festivities continued, a red, spectral figure appeared and roamed about.  Eventually, all attending died.  The story was made into a film starring Vincent Price, who starred in several films sometimes very loosely based on a story by Poe.  He wore a red cloak and hood and, with his face painted red, he lurked or stalked about while those unlucky enough to be there feasted and danced and, in the end, died.

Et in Arcadia Ego is a theme of the story, I would think.  But it may not be the only, or even the primary theme.  Death is everywhere and everyplace, and even in a utopia, especially in a time of sickness or plague. But what is it to purposefully deny or disregard it while reveling in abandon, as Tom Petty would say, or at least said or sang?  A display of sangfroid, of despair, of perversity, or callousness--while those barred from the entertainment suffer?  Not a display of ignorance, as the risk and even the certainty of death is known by all in the story, but neither is it a display of acceptance, tranquil or regretful.

One thing is certain, and that is that Poe was not interested in expressing any sense of contentment or peaceful resignation in the face of death.  Being a writer in Romantic times and partial to grim or mysterious themes, despair would be more likely, or perhaps a rumination on the frivolousness and transience of human life.

A masque is a kind of entertainment.  A mask is used to conceal, deceive or frighten.  Perhaps the masque, the entertainment, in Poe's story was intended or hoped to be a way to deceive death, or at least the participants in the masque, for a time. The urge to forget.   Nepenthe being quaffed as in The Raven.

I can't help but wonder what writers and other artists will make of the great plague of our time, if it proves to be as impressively destructive as those of the past, or even as malaria, or "the pox" as it was called.  We've shut out the rest of the world too, but the virus is here and spreading.

 What is left, after the slew of shows and movies involving zombie apocalypses, nuclear holocausts and other catastrophes like asteroid impacts?  We've already developed "entertainments" about pandemics of several different kinds, or about outbreaks of some deadly bacterial strain or other.   We've created so many masques regarding the end of humanity that it's difficult to conceive of new or different such entertainments.  Perhaps we've become so accustomed to the idea that the world will end in some spectacular way that we'll lack any concern when and if it actually takes place.

There are of course those who firmly believe in the apocalypse and even eagerly await it.  It will be easy enough to construe any disaster as consistent with the Book of Revelation.  Those who believe  aren't known to be particular in this respect.  Pestilence is one of the Four Horsemen, so COVID 19 fits into it rather well, if it should turn out very bad.

Thus do the Four Horseman serve as masks of a kind.  They represent the consequences of humanity's ignorance, greed and avarice which are masked by the claim that it was all foretold, all a part of God's plan--inevitable, so why hope or try to avoid it?

Poe's Imp

Edgar Poe (it seems he disliked being called "Edgar Allan Poe") wrote a short story with the interesting title The Imp of the Perverse.  The narrator is a murderer who seemingly commits a murder for which he cannot be suspected, but is compelled to admit the crime, thereby assuring his conviction and ultimate death by hanging.  He's compelled to admit the crime not by interrogation or happenstance, but by his own urge to do so, despite knowing he need not and knowing that by doing so he's effectively killing himself.

It's a story that describes an irresistible self-destructive impulse, then.  Of course, given Poe's personal history, many have suggested he was himself a victim of the Imp and that the story was a kind of confession.  Unfortunately for Poe, the story was panned by the critics of the day, who evidently were unable to tolerate or even consider the thought that the Imp could exist.

Poe could be a rather savage critic himself.  He was prone to dispute with his rivals, and was especially fierce in his quarrel with and condemnation of Longfellow.  If you've ever read Longfellow, particularly his famous Song of Hiawatha, you know how annoying his poetry can be and like me may be inclined to sympathize with Poe.  But you might also be unsurprised by the criticism Poe received and that he was upset by it.

The Imp should have been a recognized figure even then, however, as our self-destructive impulse has been apparent throughout recorded history.  But perhaps the classical nature of education at that time inclined those who recognized it to ascribe it to hubris, the fate of those whose pride offended the gods, or in any case thought it to be a function of the just wrath of God, or the machinations of the Devil.

Since Poe wrote the story, though, we've become familiar with the Imp, who made appearances in the work of Dostoevsky and others, and of course in Freud.  In fact, the Imp has even become a regular in various films, TV series and specials, not to mention its presence in courtrooms and the ubiquitous news media.  The Imp is still portrayed as irresistible, and as overcoming  the reason of heroes and villains alike.

I'm not so sure.  Although there may well be circumstances where the urge to self-destruction is overwhelming and caused by genuine mental illness, I think the Imp must be indulged in order for it to destroy us.

As I'm an aspiring Stoic, I ask myself how the Imp would have been perceived by the ancient Stoic philosophers.  The Stoics thought suicide to be an option available where it was not possible to live according to nature, but didn't deem it to be virtuous in itself.  Self-destruction was not a goal of the sage except in limited circumstances.  Otherwise, I think it would have been considered contrary to reason and to the Divine Reason (the creative aspect of the universe) in particular.  It's in our nature to die, but not in most cases to cause our own death.

I think the Imp would have been considered perhaps the ultimate instance where emotions such as fear, guilt, and despair, which are in our control, were left uncontrolled.  Succumbing to the Imp would be seen as something the Stoic Sage could not do.

The Imp, I would say, isn't something which is not in our control, to which we should be indifferent according to Stoic thought.  It's not a disturbance resulting from our preoccupation with what others think and do, or from our desire for things in the control of others.  It's rather a failure on our part to do the best we can with what's in our control, i.e. ourselves.