W hat’s the difference between Vladimir Putin and a chicken trying to cross a road?
Well let’s see. They’re both conscious, semi-rational social creatures like myself, struggling their way through this crazy world and doing the best they can with what they have. But the chicken seems like someone I could get along with, while I most decidedly would not enjoy getting stuck in a ski lift with Putin.
And why is that? That “different species” thing could make establishing a meaningful rapport with the chicken a little challenging (and we can go ahead and forget about communicating any ideas more complex than, “Look, food!”). But with Putin I’d be too busy stifling the aggressive Hitler jokes in my head to manage a conversation. The moral dilemma would be a little distracting — because he’s evil, right? But what does that entail?
Evil is like a good joke. We love it because it’s simple, because it makes everything so easy — it is what it is, and all we have to do is voice our hatred for it or laugh until we hurt ourselves. Comedy and moral absolutes give us relief because we don’t have to think, and if there’s one thing we college students have good reason to be tired of, it’s thinking.
And just like jokes, evil is subjective. Not everyone’s going to agree on what qualifies as “funny” or “Satan-esque.” (I might be disgusted by Carlos Mencia, Dane Cook or former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, but you might just think I’m oversensitive and full of crap — because what’s a few crimes against humanity in a war against communism? Whatever.)
Of course that’s not to say there isn’t any sort of universal moral standard for assessing these claims, just as there might not be any universal barometer of “funny,” but that’s not the problem.
Whether evil for you is Putin, Dick Cheney, terrorists or anti-abortion activists who insist on comparing abortion to genocide and shoving graphic images in your face, that’s valid.
But just like jokes, evil is ruined the moment someone explains it. The mechanics that made the joke funny or set up the circumstances for evil to happen are revealed in an instant like the paunchy dimwit behind the Wizard of Oz — and the magic is gone.
The joke is lifeless and formulaic, not the vivid burst of spontaneity it was a moment before. And now the evil is the result of a terrible string of random existential circumstances, plus the occasional misplaced moral conviction or childhood trauma (trauma here meaning anything from malnutrition and lead exposure to a profound lack of hugs).
