Sunday, May 24, 2009

And now for something completely different ...

One of the projects I'm working on intermittently these days is the question of how to distinguish between two closely related concepts -- that of humility, and that of humiliation. The primary difference appears to be in their respective valuation:  Humility is positively coded, at least within a Judaeo-Christian framework, whereas humiliation is quite negatively coded. 

To complicate things, while humility seems to dwell largely within the sphere of "religious thought" -- so much so, that a query for the term in psychology databases brings up largely "pastoral counseling" responses -- whereas humiliation functions as a cross-over term between philosophy, psychology and assorted other disciplines.  Each realm adds different definitional nuances; while it thus makes considerable sense for a philosopher to speak of humiliation as a violation of human dignity, a psychologist might well be leery of importing concepts like the latter into her work. 

One -- quite serviceable -- definition of humiliation comes from a 2007 paper by Peter T. Coleman titled The Privilege of Humiliation:
Humiliation is an emotion, triggered by public events, which evokes a sense of inferiority resulting from the realization that one is being, or has been, treated in a way that departs from the normal expectations for fair and equal human treatment. 
This is a very interiorized definition of humiliation -- indeed one that arguably blurs the definition of "shame" and "humiliation" (... a difference upon which entire dissertations have been composed.)  A slight modification might capitalize on the "public events" qualifier of aforementioned definition: Humiliation is, after all, not only triggered by public events but by the public nature of the humiliating treatment.  Mark A. Jackson in his dissertation thus defines humiliation as being constituted by:
(a) some other actively engaged in exposing some shortcoming or misdeed of the target of humiliation, (b) the target's belief that he or she does not deserve the treatment he or she is getting, and (c) the event occurs in a public situation. 
Jackson's definition gets us closer to the public -- and thus by necessity socially constructed -- nature of humiliation; like Coleman's, however, its central hinge is the experiential character of humiliation.  In other words, no humiliation exists for either Coleman or Jackson unless the humiliated individual is cognizant of and sensitive to the humiliation.  Some attention has been paid -- and rightly so -- to a "humiliation disconnect" when one party without intent to humiliate nevertheless inflicts humiliation upon another.  Given the outward-directed response to humiliation (pace Jackson), the unintentional humiliation of another across cultural or national boundaries is, of course, a particularly precarious potentiality. 

An, I think, somewhat less explored -- because far less problematic -- phenomenon is a scenario where the humiliated party is either insensible to his humiliation or, even more transgressively, is choosing to appropriate his humiliation for a purpose the humiliator deems undesirable.  In other words, while humiliation, like shame, is an effective tool to bring socially deviant behavior back in line, the exploitation of humiliation -- for spiritual, counter-social or even sexual gain -- effectively neutralizes the intended effects of humiliation.

Early Christian literature is, of course, chock-full with examples of the rejection, reinscription and appropriation of humiliation.  The Martyrdom of Polycarp provides an early example.  After Polycarp's betrayal and arrest, he is being transported from the house in which he has been found to the arena.  On the way ...
the police captain Herod and his father Niketas met him and removed him into their carriage, and sat by his side trying to persuade him and saying: "But what harm is it to say, `Lord Caesar,' and to offer sacrifice, and so forth, and to be saved?" But he at first did not answer them, but when they continued he said: "I am not going to do what you counsel me."  And they gave up the attempt to persuade him, and began to speak fiercely to him, and turned him out in such a hurry that in getting down from the carriage he scraped his shin; and without turning round, as though he had suffered nothing, he walked on promptly and quickly, and was taken to the arena, while the uproar in the arena was so great that no one could even be heard.
It strikes me that the narrative here recounts a failed attempt at humiliation:  After persuasion has failed, Herod and Niketas begin to "speak fiercely" to the aged and publicly respected Polycarp and cast him from the carriage -- behaviors that anticipate the later arena's dynamic of cajoling and public shaming.  Both approaches are designed to elicit socially conformist behavior, namely Polycarp's public assent to the imperial cult.  Polycarp's refusal, however, does not merely indicate his resistance to the desired effects of humiliation, but suggests the narrator's intent to convey that Polycarp is uniquely impervious to humiliation itself:  He answers to a higher judge; endeavors to "expose some shortcoming or misdeed" (per Jackson's definition) are singularly ineffective because Polycarp's assessment of what constitutes "shortcoming" is conditioned by a different "social group" altogether.

Later martyr accounts narrate in even more explicit detail Christians' appropriation of public spectacles' intended humiliation for publicity ("the blood of martyrs is seed"), spiritual gain, and even an opportunity to counter-humiliate their audiences:  Paradoxically, humility humiliates.  Much has been written about this phenomenon -- Boyarin's Dying for God and Castelli's Martyrdom and Memory are merely two prominent and incisive examples. '

What intrests me, however, concerns a somewhat later area of Christianity's development, as well as the question of what happens when humility and humiliation are, at least in theory, no longer performed under two divergent scripts (Christian/Pagan, Christian/Jewish, etc.), but when the very same social script (e.g. the canon of the New Testament) is being read by different groups or individuals to encode a particular action in divergent ways.  Who, in short, arbitrates whether an act is humble -- and thus pleasing to God -- or humiliating -- and thus displeasing?  Moreover, what happens in instances when these groups agree upon the humiliating nature of an act, but one endeavors to subvert and appropriate the act's humiliation for their own spiritual or social ends?  And, not least of all, what happens when other social variables, particularly gender, race, status, are being introduced into the equation? 

Inquiring minds would like to know.



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