‘a full dish of various kinds of fruits’

Watching the anger, frustration and despair in America, it is easy to feel overwhelmed and helpless. There is no easy resolution to these longstanding and entrenched difficulties – particularly when the leadership seems to be fuelling rather than quietening the situation.

One of the images which has circulated in my world recently is Melencolia I by Dürer from 1514. Melencolia I is an enigmatic engraving of a winged figure, seated dejectedly and surrounded by a range of tools from various professions, suggesting that the figure is paralysed, ineffective and powerless. This artwork, reflecting pessimism and doubt, has given rise to a large amount of commentary which discusses both its representation of melancholy and its ability to engender it.

In reflecting on these difficult times, I was reminded of my favourite and most-frequently read book – ‘Candide’ by Voltaire. This satire, published in 1759, is the picaresque story of a young man, Candide, who lives a sheltered life while being indoctrinated by his determinedly optimistic mentor, Dr Pangloss. Dr Pangloss’s philosophy is that, despite whatever happens: ‘everything is for the best, in this best of all possible worlds’. However, Candide is forced to challenge this belief as he witnesses and experiences great hardships in the world. Ultimately he finds contentment in the simple act of cultivation of his own ‘garden’ – attending to things he can control and nurturing the world around him – a sensible and affirming position.

The name ‘Pangloss’ comes from the Greek elements pan (all) and glossa (tongue, language) suggesting glibness and garrulousness and the word ‘panglossian’ (meaning excessively optimistic) had a rare moment in early March this year when it was the word most commonly looked up in the online Merriam-Webster dictionary.  Unsurprisingly, the interest in the word resulted from the daily reports on coronavirus emanating from the White House.

A quick google search revealed a number of articles that have linked the current administration in America with the enlightenment philosopher, Voltaire. See, for example, the opinion piece in the New York Times from December 2018 – ‘To Deal With Trump, Look to Voltaire’: https://www.nytimes.com/2018/12/27/opinion/trump-voltaire-enlightenment.html. Reading this and other commentaries reminded me of the importance of political satire as an antidote to helplessness.

According to Oxford Languages, ’satire’ is the use of humour, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticise people’s stupidity or vices, particularly in the context of contemporary politics and other topical issues. As Robert C. Elliott discusses, in his lengthy article in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, the intent of satire is usually to shame individuals, corporations, government, or society itself for the purpose of improvement.

The word ‘satire’ comes from the Latin word satur and its use in the phrase lanx satura  which literally means ‘a full dish of various kinds of fruits’. Originally it applied only to Roman verse but forms of satirical writing date back to Ancient Greece and are clearly seen in the comic plays of Aristophanes from the 4^th century BCE.

Satire is diverse and has been classified into a range of distinct modes. Horatian satire – named after the Roman satirist, Horace – is playful and criticises social vices through gentle, light-hearted humour. Examples would be Thomas More’s ‘Utopia’, the musical works of Gilbert and Sullivan, and, more recently, the animated television series ‘The Simpsons’ by Matt Groening.

Juvenalian satire – coming from the 2^nd century writings of Juvenal – is more harsh and contemptuous. Juvenal addressed perceived social evil through scorn, outrage and savage ridicule. There are many examples of this ranging from ‘Candide’ by Voltaire, to the literary works of George Orwell, Aldous Huxley, William Golding and Bret Easton Ellis, to the films of Stanley Kubrick (especially ‘Dr Strangelove’, ‘Clockwork Orange’ and ‘Eyes Wide Shut’).

The third kind of satire is Menippean satire and named after the Greek cynic parodist from the 3^rd century BCE.  This form of satire is typically lengthy with a structure similar to a novel, and attacks mental attitudes rather than specific individuals or entities, through a mixture of allegory and picaresque narrative. Works by François Rabelais, Jonathan Swift, Lewis Carroll, Kurt Vonnegut and Douglas Adams are examples.

From the time of Aristophanes, the primary topics of satire have been politics, religion and sex. These themes continue to be popular and we are familiar with their local contemporary theatrical presentations on television shows like ‘Mad as Hell’, ‘The Weekly’ and Sammy J’s incisive commentaries on the ABC at 6.55pm on Thursdays.

One form of political satire is the political cartoon in which an artist caricatures public figures in order to question authority and draw attention to corruption, political violence and other social issues. Political cartoons are said to have emerged from the satirical pictures by William Hogarth in the early 18^th century – particularly his ‘Emblematical Print on the South Sea Scheme’ from c. 1721, which looked at the stock market crash known as the South Sea Bubble. In general, Hogarth’s art was not political, and his pictures were appreciated for their social commentary.

Political cartoons developed in England in the latter part of the 18^th century particularly around the time of the French Revolution. The main exponents were James Gillary, Thomas Rowlandson and the Cruikshanks (Isaac and his sons, Isaac Robert and George) – all of whom have works in the NGV collection (and will be the subject of future blogposts). The art of the political cartoonist became especially popular with the publication of the periodical, ‘Punch’ in 1841. The term ‘cartoon’, to refer to comic drawings, was coined by this magazine in 1843 and the popularity of the cartoons in ‘Punch’ led to the widespread and current use of the word.

By the mid 19^th century, major political newspapers around the world featured cartoons to express the publisher’s political opinions. Australia has a long history of publishing political cartoons with the first appearing in Tasmania’s ‘Cornwall Chronicle’ in 1835. This was followed by South Australia’s ‘Adelaide Month Almanac’ in 1850 and Victoria’s ‘Melbourne Punch’ in 1855. Since then artists have continued to express their perspectives on contemporary issues in witty and satirical ways. The ABC television program ‘The Insiders’ features a segment every Sunday with Mike Bowers (photographer-at-large for The Guardian) presenting images from the week just passed.

The NGV has a number of Australian political cartoons in the collection and the one which caught my attention was John Spooner’s take on Dürer from 1993. In Keating’s Melancholia we see Paul Keating, recently defeated by John Howard who replaced him as Prime Minister, as melancholy and surrounded by his woes: a graph tracking the stock market slump, a sleeping sheep, a declining mining industry and imported boomerangs at his feet.

John Spooner was a lawyer who left practising law to draw full-time for The Age newspaper from the 1970s until being made redundant by Fairfax Media in 2016. He has won numerous awards including five Stanley Awards and three Walkley Awards as well as being the 2002 Graham Perkin Australian Journalist of the Year. Spooner’s cartoons are now published in The Australian – including a particularly contentious Juvenalian cartoon this Monday about the current situation in America which has resulted in complaints to the Australian Press Council.

Voltaire is often, but incorrectly, connected with the statement: ‘I don’t agree with what you say but I will defend to the death your right to say it’. However, Voltaire did say; ‘Think for yourselves, and allow others the privilege to do so, too’. Spooner’s confronting and troubling image, with its confusing position on racism, was published during Reconciliation Week and is a reminder that we still need to talk about and tend to issues in our ‘own garden’.