Monday, April 13, 2020

Shrinking the Joker


It’s an old observation that comic book characters in the modern world have replaced the demigods and heroes of ancient mythology. Modern-day comic book superheroes are just Theseus, Perseus, Hercules, et al. in tights. Sometimes the borrowings are literal as in the case of Marvel’s Asgardians. Ares spars with DC’s Wonder Woman. More often, though, the debt is unspoken. The ancient heroes proved their mettle against bizarre and challenging adversaries just as comic book heroes do today. For example, Procrustes (who must have gotten lousy reviews on Yelp as an Airbnb host) stretched travelers or chopped off their legs so they would fit his bed exactly. The Joker surely would approve. It is exactly his brand of humor: funny only to himself. The myths persist in their original and modern forms because they reveal something about real people: our aspirations, fears, better natures, and dark desires. When Aphrodite struck down Hippolytus for disrespecting her or Dionysus struck down Pentheus for failing to give him proper due, we understand (as did the ancients) that the mortals really were destroyed for denying aspects of their own natures. The better-written comic books also speak to us about who we are, or fear we are, or want to be.

Dennis O’Neil, author of several Batman comics, wrote that readers’ reactions to Joker killing Robin in one of the stories “taught me that I wasn’t just doing for-hire work, that these things were important to people. I realized that comic-book and some other media characters are all modern folklore, so I should pay some attention to that and not be as cavalier about it as I’d been.” He made this comment in the introduction to Batman and Psychology, one of numerous books on the mindsets of superheroes. The Psychology of Superheroes: An Unauthorized Exploration by Jennifer Canzoneri and Robin S. Rosenberg is a particularly useful one since it covers several of them.

As in ancient times, heroes are defined as heroes by the villains they oppose. What of the  psychology of villains? They have not been ignored. A worthy entry to the genre, The Joker: Evil Clowns and the Women Who Love Them, arrived in the mail last week. Edited by Travis Langley, it is a collection of essays by a mix of academics, forensic psychologists, and comic book authors on the psychology of the Joker – taking account of three distinct phases in his representation since 1940. The underlying discussion (which makes it relevant beyond comic book fandom) is about criminal psychopathy in actual life. The Joker merely serves as an illustration. Harley gets commentary in the book as well.

Psychopathy by itself is not actually regarded as a disorder. It is not listed as such in the current DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). Psychopaths are not unhappy on account of their condition, and most lead (as a result of self-serving calculation) productive law-abiding lives. They often are charming until you get to know them better. (In essence, just being a jerk is not a mental problem.) However, psychopathy in combination with other factors that form Antisocial Personality Disorder is a problem. It is one of the “dark triad” of personality traits so common in chronic criminals: narcissism (extreme egotism), Machiavellianism (manipulative behavior), and psychopathy (lack of empathy). Add sadism (joy in the suffering of others) to form a “dark tetrad” and you will have not just an ordinary criminal but a serial killer. You have a Joker. Wrote forensic psychologist Robert D. Hare on people with these traits: “Their hallmark is a stunning lack of conscience; their game is self-gratification at the other person’s expense.”

(Note: Everyone has dark personality traits, especially those who deny it. We all have the opposite positive traits, too. The question is which traits are dominant. A little propensity for schadenfreude does not make a serial killer.)

The original Joker was a murderer who liked to taunt the police. His first words in his very first comic book appearance in 1940 were, “Tonight, at precisely twelve o’clock midnight, I will kill Henry Claridge and steal the Claridge diamond.” Then, during the decades-long phase when comics strove to be family-friendly he was prankishly criminal but not-lethal. In his current incarnation he again is a killer but has acquired a nihilistic philosophy. From The Dark Knight: “I'm an agent of chaos. Oh, and you know the thing about chaos? It's fair!” Our understanding of all three Jokers (and of their real-world counterparts) benefits from a psychological discussion. Joker’s relationship with Harley Quinn, and hers with him, are particularly revealing.

Harley, too, has evolved since her appearance in 1992. Her actions in early storylines are best characterized in terms of Stockholm Syndrome and the pathology of codependents in abusive relationships. Her more recent representations are less sympathetic but more interesting. True, she allows herself to be manipulated, but “allows” is the key word. She makes her own choices for her own reasons, and any traumas that might have influenced those choices are older than her interactions with Joker. She is not a psychopath, which in a moral sense makes her more culpable for her actions but it also makes her more redeemable. (See earlier post Harleen Casts a Shadow below.)

Can the Joker (and his real world counterparts) be cured? Though some therapists contend that everyone can be mended or at least helped, the broader consensus is that the prospect is bleak. Langley quotes Dr. Robert Hare: “It’s difficult to be a therapist and not believe everyone has some capacity for positive change. However, I think they’re wrong and that this thinking can be dangerous in the wrong setting." Harley has a better chance although there is a caveat: “The therapies for Harley all call for her to be open to help.” There is an old joke that is bad enough to be in the Joker’s repertoire (though to my knowledge it isn’t): How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb? One, but the bulb has to want to change.


Melanie – Psychotherapy

2 comments:

  1. I saw a biography the other night about serial killer Edmund Kemper. He killed both grandparents at the age of 15, he was put in prison for that, but they released him! Then eventually killed his mother once he was let out of prison, among many coeds having sex with their corpses. Talk about a gruesome and gristly killer, one that I've not heard about in quite some time, and yet he had a high IQ, and someone diagnosed him with paranoid schizophrenia. I'm not so sure that diagnosis is correct, particularly since his IQ was so high, I think he could have out-foxed some of those shrinks. It made me wonder about all that as far as how one does fit inside the guidelines of mentally ill. Granted I think some individuals are clearly ill, while others certainly skate the definition.

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    1. Some people think so wildly differently than the rest of us that they are hard for us to comprehend. I have a problem with trying minors as adults (it is an overused tactic that obviates the whole object of a juvenile justice system) but the reason for the practice is extreme cases such as the one you describe. A good explication of such people (full of gruesome examples) is a book by two shrinks called “The New Evil.” I reviewed it last year: https://richardbellush.blogspot.com/2019/07/evil.html. The evil they describe is not really new, of course, as they explain, but the frequency is. Something about the social structure has changed in recent decades that lets these people be more active than in the past even as the more general crime rate falls.

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