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
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.
ReplyDeleteSome 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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