The Joy of Pain

by Richard H. Smith

  The researchers found that forecasters predicted that retaliation would be more satisfying than what was actually reported by punishers. This effect seemed to be explained in part by a measure of how much participants ruminated over their actions. The measure came 10 minutes after the end of the game, suggesting that punishers continued to brood over the experience more than did others. Thus, it appears that people often overestimate how satisfying revenge will be because they are unaware that their vengeful actions can cause them “to continue to think about (rather than forget) those whom they have punished.”49 And so, does revenge work? Because of rumination, there may be at least one downside. If we go by these researchers’ results, after people have taken revenge, rumination may cause increased regret over their vengeful behavior.50

  Social psychologist Sung Hee Kim argues that one function of revenge is to restore self-esteem, diminished by the fact that another person has so little respect for us that they are willing to harm us. Revenge restores the balance.51 But by stooping to the wrongdoer’s level, one’s moral superiority can seem diminished, at least in most modern cultures. And so, unless the initial harm is extreme or the harmdoer is especially despicable, internalized norms against taking revenge, guided by culture, may sap the pleasure out of the vengeful act. No wonder countless Hollywood films show heroes who hold back from vengeful behavior until so goaded that few viewers will think less of them. We want our heroes to take revenge, but we want them to do so from an unimpeachable moral high ground.

  The research by Carlsmith and his colleagues nicely highlights our complex attitudes toward revenge. It also helps us appreciate another important point about how schadenfreude arises. The strong impress of cultural norms against revenge means that indirect revenge, the act of bearing witness, might in fact bring greater pleasure to an individual than direct revenge. There is a lot to be said, in terms of psychological gain, for this indirect, “passive” form of outcome. Although one might temper the outward expression of joy, there is no danger of being browbeaten over having acted in an uncivilized way. At the same time, the misfortune should go a long way toward appeasing vengeful feelings. The experiment by Carlsmith and his colleagues partially supports this idea as well. In an additional condition, participants witnessed the punishment rather than enacting it. This produced significantly greater positive feelings than the “punisher” condition, comparable to another “forecaster” condition in which participants predicted reactions to witnessing the punishment. Participants in the “witness” condition also ruminated less. Yes, witnessing the suffering of someone who has wronged us has a lot going for it over inflicting the suffering ourselves. It is schadenfreude, guilt-free (and avoids counter revenge too!).

  As I have already noted, some scholars claim that we feel schadenfreude only when we witness another person’s suffering, not when we bring it about ourselves.52 Schadenfreude is passive, not active. I think this demarcation is too neat. A friend of mine grew up in Eastern Kentucky near the area famous for the feud between the Hatfields and the McCoys. His grandfather was a Golden Gloves winner as a teen and, even in his late eighties, is still ornery and ready for a fight. He was just 16 when Pearl Harbor was attacked, but he lied about his age and enlisted on the spot. Unluckily, he was one of the many American soldiers captured by the Japanese in the Philippines when U.S. forces were overrun and defeated there at the start of the war. He suffered through the Bataan Death March, so rivetingly chronicled in the book Ghost Soldiers by Hampton Sides.53 During the march, a buddy was decapitated by a Japanese soldier simply because he was too big and tall, so it seemed. My friend’s grandfather also endured years of appalling hardship in a POW camp until he and the other surviving soldiers were rescued toward the war’s end. My friend told me that his grandfather avoided talking about this experience, but there was one incident that he didn’t seem to mind telling. He and the other men suffered backbreaking labor in rock quarries. They were overseen by guards who treated them cruelly and who were indifferent when a man died from the labor. The soldiers hated these guards and would find ways to have them suffer “accidental” deaths themselves. Once, his grandfather was carrying a large rock and found himself looking over a ledge where a guard was standing below. He took aim and let the rock fall. It found its target and crushed the guard’s head, killing him instantly. He would tell the story with the glee and satisfaction of justice served. It was an invigorating memory of an event now over 60 years past. I confess that when my friend told it to me, I smiled a little as I imagined the incident too.

  Were my friend and I the only ones feeling schadenfreude, not his grandfather, because he dropped the rock, and we did not? The distinction is far from hard and fast. In any event, I found it difficult to fault my friend’s grandfather for taking pleasure in the guard’s death. It was not sadistic—he was not someone who ordinarily found joy in hurting others, nor did he seek such pleasures.54 The conditions were extraordinary. Going by the calculus of fairness created by the war, “justice” was served. In my mind’s eye, as my friend recreated the event for me, and as I saw the big grin on his face, I seemed to live vicariously his grandfather’s happy satisfaction. I also felt a whiff of something similar when Albert Haas described how he dealt with the SS man, noted earlier in this chapter. There seems no question that misfortunes happening to others who have severely wronged us appeal to our deep-rooted sense of justice.

  In Hamlet, Shakespeare’s timeless revenge drama, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are to be the instruments of Hamlet’s death because they carry sealed instructions for the King of England to have him killed. But Hamlet intercepts the document, changes the instructions, and directs that the English King have them killed instead. He feels little compunction because these two school friends are toadies to his treacherous uncle and are to be trusted like “adders fang’d.” He anticipates being pleased over the outcome, “For ’tis the sport to have the engineer hoist with his own petard.”55 Certainly, we expect the playgoer to sense the sport in it too.

  CHAPTER 7

  HUMILITAINMENT

  I feel the producers really exploited my lack of talent at this time. I looked like an idiot up there. I want to be good, not something that people will laugh at.

  —WILLIAM HUNG1

  It has always been a mystery to me how men can feel themselves honored by the humiliation of their fellow beings.

  —MAHATMA GANDHI2

  The boys who pull out grasshoppers’ legs and butterflies’ wings, and disembowel every frog they catch, have no thought at all about the matter.

  —WILLIAM JAMES3

  In the fall of 2003, William Hung was an obscure college student at the University of California at Berkeley. Nothing about him foretold the celebrity status he would achieve by mid-January 2004 as the last auditioner for the third season of the hugely popular reality TV program American Idol. He wasn’t much of a singer. He performed his audition song, “She Bangs,” with an awkwardness that was the furthest contrast to the sexy original rendition by Ricky Martin. He had a nerdy, toothy look evoking Mickey Rooney’s regrettable portrayal of a Chinese houseboy in Breakfast at Tiffany’s—complete with an accent left over from having spent the first 11 years of his life in Hong Kong.4,5 Hung turned out to have an endearing, good-natured authenticity to him that transcended the entertainment aims of the show, leading to a wacky run of post-series celebrity fame. But he was no American Idol.

  Although Hung had no shot at winning the competition, the producers of the show must have suspected, must have known, that they had in their hands the kind of comically bad performance that many viewers of the show would enjoy. Thousands auditioned for the final 12 spots in the Idol competition. During the preliminary weeks, when the highlights of these auditions are broadcast, the producers could choose to air only the cream of this very large crop. But part of the formula for the success of Idol has been that bad performances and the judges’ sometimes withering critiques are highlighted as frequently as the talented c
ontestants and the high praise that they receive. With Hung, the best of the worst was saved for last. His humiliation, anticipated with teaser clips, was a ratings bonanza.

  THE APPEAL OF HUMILIATING THE NAIVE AND UNTALENTED

  Since its first season in 2002, American Idol has been one of the most highly viewed shows on television. There are many reasons for its popularity. Without the opportunity to see talented performers emerge from obscurity and mature over the weeks and to enjoy the guest appearances from music legends, it would lack the cocktail of ingredients that has made it so popular. But without the balance of viewing the humiliating as well as the uplifting, the extraordinary appeal of the show would diminish.

  Humiliation might be one of the worst things to experience.6 It renders a person’s public self in tatters, defective and inferior. People in such situations are like marks who are socially dead and who, as sociologist Erving Goffman wrote, “are sorted but not segregated, and continue to walk among the living.”7

  How could it be pleasing to witness such social pain? One explanation may be in the social comparison implications for the viewer. As I underlined in Chapters 1 and 2, any downward comparison, which is partly what another person’s humiliation implies, can mix pleasure with sympathy. Certainly, for most people, watching William Hung performing so poorly on the screen created no danger of experiencing a deflating “upward comparison” with someone superior to them. On any visible dimension of comparison, even the most ordinary viewers would have felt no threat to their own relative judgment of themselves. On the contrary, most people could conclude that they were better looking, more talented, more self-aware—more cool—than Hung. Some non-Asians might have found satisfaction in having certain stereotypes of Asians supported, especially if they had felt their own self-worth threatened by this successful minority group. Over time, Hung showed many admirable qualities. His authenticity was beguiling. But, at his audition, just about anyone could have felt superior by contemplating the absurd idea that someone of Hung’s appearance and talents could imagine advancing to the next level of competition, much less winning.

  Why aren’t the pleasures of feeling superior supplanted by the pain of witnessing humiliation? While Hung performed, viewers saw sequences of the judges’ mockery. One judge, Randy Jackson, placed a handkerchief over his face to hide his reaction. Paula Abdul, usually soft-hearted, was unable to suppress her outward amusement; she laughed uncontrollably. The third judge, Simon Cowell, characteristically felt no need to hide his ridicule and soon stopped the performance before Hung had finished the song. “You can’t sing, you can’t dance, so what do you want me to say?”8 Painful for Hung, clearly, but not for many viewers. In fact, the judges’ mockery was a large part of the fun. Their reactions seemed irrepressible—a natural response to the performance. Here were three experts clearly enjoying themselves—approving similar pleasure in viewers.

  Other features of Idol also help promote amusement over empathy. Auditioners perform voluntarily. No one forces them to audition. If someone has the naive boldness to think he could be the next American Idol, why should he receive our pity if his performance is embarrassing and receives ridicule? And when contestants become hostile in response to pretty accurate feedback, as many do, they deserve their humiliation all the more. As I underscored in Chapters 5 and 6, the deservingness of a misfortune is a sure path to creating schadenfreude. The modest and lovable manner of William Hung was atypical of poor performers selected to be aired. Hung’s response to Simon Cowell’s critique was, “Um, I already gave my best, and I have no regrets at all.”9 This response, so humble and uncoached, was surely one reason why Hung was eventually embraced by viewers and why he enjoyed more than his 15 minutes of fame. Indeed, he benefited financially from his anti-Idol persona. More typical was the behavior of another contestant from the preliminary rounds, Alexis Cohen, who delivered a barrage of vulgar expletives and gestures in response to Simon Cowell’s critique of her performance. Cameras followed her progress out of the audition room and building as she continued her crude outbursts. At some level, this was also “fun” to watch. It added to the perception of her “inferiority” and upheld the deservingness of her humiliation.

  American Idol is just one example of a prominent theme in reality TV in which humiliation is the marquee ingredient. According to analysis by media scholar Amber Watts, there has been an increase in the number of programs (such as Survivor, Big Brother, America’s Next Top Model, Jersey Shore) that use real-life formats to exploit the many ways that people can be humiliated as a lure for pleasing viewers.10 They are on tap 24/7, as is obvious to anyone who watches a small sample of television fare. A content analysis conducted by other media scholars, Sara Booker and Brad Waite, revealed that the most popular reality TV shows contained more humiliation than scripted dramas did. They coined the term “humilitainment” to label the trend.11

  When it comes to exploiting the entertainment value of humiliation, American Idol is actually tame. It has counternarratives of success attributed to hard work and sometimes goosebumps-raising performances. Moreover, some auditioners seem eager to trade public humiliation for short-lived fame. Other programs use especially intense humiliation as their main hook.

  I caught a memorable episode of the short-lived show called Howie Do It.12 Hosted by comedian Howie Mandel, it was a kind of amplified Candid Camera, as its core element was to show people humiliating themselves in an array of extreme situations. The show’s Web site unashamedly summarized the goals of the show:

  During each episode, the unsuspecting “marks” will think they are the stars of a new game show or reality show, or that they are auditioning for a big Hollywood movie or television role. What they don’t realize is, they ARE the stars, but in the most unexpected and entertaining way, in front of millions of people on TV.13

  One segment of the episode involved a young man taking part in a campy Japanese-style game show. The game required that he shock a fellow teammate at doubling levels each time he, himself, missed a general knowledge question. His teammate was actually hired by the show and was instructed to pretend to feel the shocks. The producers rigged things so that at the third missed question, the teammate screamed in pain as the electrical current hissed, smoked, and crackled. He then appeared to lose consciousness and stop breathing. Quick CPR by two paramedics got him breathing again but not before the young man concluded for a brief moment that he had killed his teammate.

  Viewers see this replayed on a large screen to a live audience who know what was actually going on and laugh along. Mandel provided a running commentary designed to heighten the laughs. Adding to the humiliation, “contestants” wore skintight suits resembling long underwear and silly red caps. Of course, the young man was extremely upset to think that he had almost killed his teammate, but the studio audience howled with laughter and clapped their approval.

  The young man was soon told that his teammate was actually just fine and that he had been part of a big joke. This knowledge hardly soothed him. This “mark” was not easily cooled. He yelled, “You cruel sons of bitches!!!!” How did Mandel respond to this outburst? He looked at the viewing audience and admitted, “We’re cruel, but we’re funny.”14 We can admire Mandel’s honesty, but, to paraphrase George Orwell as he recalled the humiliations he suffered as a boy in a British boarding school—such, such are the joys.15

  HUMILITAINMENT FINDS A HOME ON THE SEAMY SIDE: TO CATCH A PREDATOR

  Perhaps the most extreme example of popular programs using intense humiliation as their main draw is To Catch a Predator. It ceased to produce new episodes in 2008 but lives on as of this writing in reruns and specials, such as Predator Raw. Each episode involves a sting operation designed to catch a series of men who appear intent on having sexual relations with a minor, leading up to an ignominious turnaround in every case when each man is told that his recorded exposure will be aired on national TV. This show, its value in alerting the public to the problem of online predators notwit
hstanding, may just be the consummate example of how far television can go to use humiliation as the key attraction. Its features provide insights into why this type of show can also supply opportunities for schadenfreude. It is worth a full look.

  The producers of Predator work with a private watchdog organization to pull off these stings. Staff members create fake, underage decoys who post their identities on chat lines. Early in the chats, the decoys use photos to suggest that they are underage and make false statements that their ages range from 12 to 15. The decoys refrain from initiating sexual content, but once this line has been crossed by a man, they vigorously begin exploring sexual themes in any direction that can seem credible. The decoy will encourage a meeting. If the man agrees to meet, a site is selected, usually a suburban house, arranged by a phone call with the decoy. These men turn out to be easy marks. “The result? Fish in a barrel, every time,” as Jesse Wegman of the Huffington Post summed it up.16