Schadenfreude - a short history

Schadenfreude
By Red Saint
February 2 2006

“Злорадность самая пчстая радость” Schadenfreude, say the Russians, is the purest form of happiness. It’s not only the Russians who are into it either. The Swedes believe it is the one true joy (skadeglädjen är den enda sanna glädjen),

whilst the Finns, although prepared to admit that other pleasures, such as beating your naked boss with birch sticks, do exist, admit that Schadenfreude is certainly the best (vahingonilo on paras ilo).

The Danes are a little less open about their skadefrydlust, saying that although the misfortune of others is nothing to scorn, one’s own happiness should be preferred (Egen lykke er at foretrække men andres ulykke er dog ikke). You could be forgiven for thinking it’s just the Scandinavians, the winters and the lack of light are known to cause endless complexes and fetishes, but all nationalities, whether they admit it or not, do love it, and my personal favourite apophthegm is the Japanese tajin no fukou wa mitsu no aji – others’ misfortune tastes of honey.

There is a German proverb – Welche Sprache außer Deutsch konnte sowie ein Wort wie Scahdenfreude besitzen? I’ve heard roughly equivalent one used in English; Only the Germans would need a word like Schadenfreude in their language. The idea that it’s only the Germans who need a word for joy at other people’s misfortune is erroneously held to be true. In Hungarian Schadenfreude is the wonderful káröröm, in Dutch the word Leedvermaak is used, a compound noun comprising of the words for sorrow and entertainment and when back for a fleeting visit to my Erse home last year I learnt that even Scottish Gaelic has its own word, aighear-truaighe.

If you look up Schadenfreude in the OED you will find ‘malicious glee’. The belief that there is no word to express the feeling in English is why Schadenfreude has entered the language as a loanword, however, English, being as remarkably adaptable as it is, does have its own word, the quite beautiful epicaricacy.

This, or indeed Schadenfreude itself, would be my favourite word in the language were it not for the word Schadenfreudian – joy at others’ sexual misfortune. But I’ll save that for another article…

I have no shame in saying I am a massive fan of Schadenfreude. Should you ever watch a match between two teams in whom you have no interest you could be interested in seeing good play, but you could also take great pleasure in Schadenfreude. If you are ever forced to sit through a game of a sport which bores you so much that hammering rusty nails through your feet seems a more pleasurable alternative, let’s take, for example, football, then Schadenfreude is the only thing that can make watching it worthwhile.

Football, with its levels of frustration and tease, is, of course, more suited to the feeling than any other sport, a fact of which I am immensely glad given the amount of it I seem to sit through. One of my all-time favourite sporting tournaments was the wonderfully Schadenfreude-clad Euro 2004.

First, we were treated to England vs. France, the Beckham penalty miss, then to the two late goals, including one from a penalty from Beckham’s team mate. Oh, such bliss! Second came the two-all “Nordic Victory” that sent the Italians out in the last seconds of the qualifying rounds. That I was living with a group of Italians at the time made it good, the fact that the Italian team were going crazy with delight at having gone through with a late goal of their own as the commentator repeated through thinly disguised mirth “they think they’re through, they think they’re through” made it a wet dream for a Schadenfreude fan like myself.

I couldn’t have asked for more, but oh, I must have pleased the footballing gods that summer as we got more, and oh, was England’s Schadenfreude draped egress from Euro 2004 beautiful. I couldn’t have scripted it better myself.

England held the lead for almost the whole game, they lost.
England scored a late ‘winner’. It was disallowed. They lost.
The game went to penalties. Somewhat predictably, they lost.

When the Portuguese goalkeeper scored the decisive penalty I knew I was seeing something special, but the commentators made it magical. I was living in Berlin at the time and whoever says the Germans do not have a sense of humour did not watch that game in German.

As extra time wore on the commentator kept musing “I can’t believe England are playing for penalties, with their record!” I enjoyed that, but the coup de grace was orgasmically good. After the game, the show’s credits rolled as ‘Three Lions on a Shirt’ was played and a video was screened of all of England’s penalty shoot-out exits since 1990. Pearce, Waddle, Southgate, Batty took their Elfmeters as the Lightning Seeds bopped along. Ah, I was farctate and totally satiated with the empyreal throb of Schadenfreude.

The only thing that’s ever come close was the way in which Celtic threw away the SPL last year. I still haven’t stopped sniggering about that one either.

Schadenfreude is a lot harder to find in rugby. The nature of the sport just doesn’t seem to leave much room for it. That’s not to say it doesn’t exist. My all-time favourite Saints game was the Llanelli semi-final in 2000. I watched the game in deepest Dyfed in a bile filed pen of ignorance, fists and inferiority complexes. “That little twat Dawson – he’s no Rupert Moon is he boy?” may have won quote of the day, but the amount of hate that was spewed when Grayson replaced Hepher late on was incredible. When Boobyer decided his toes would feel much better in the shins of a Saint than on the floor in a ruck the scene was set and Grayson’s V-flicking penalty from half-way was a beauty. I was with a Turk-supporting Jack and she admitted after that if the Welsh had to lose, then that was as good a way as any.

Sadly, not only do our northern East Midlands neighbours like getting one over us, they normally succeed in getting one over us. We win the Heineken, they win it twice. We beat Llanelli with a late penalty in the semi; they beat Llanelli in the semi with a late penalty which they sneakily moved 10 metres forward and then saw bounce of the post and the bar before going over. That dose of Schadenfreude was a great hit and a timely one, as until that time I had been completely unable to decide whom I wanted to lose more and that Schadenfreudevoll kick was a beautiful way to sneak the win.

What made me think about Schadenfreude was this weekend gone’s Heineken rugby action. Six televised matches, six great games – the rugby was a joy to watch. And so was the Schadenfreude…

Were there to have been a Schadenfreude Cup for the most amusing bad results who would have won?

Bath? They pretty much just needed to show up at The Rec to ensure a home draw as top seeds but instead got comprehensively outplayed by a player coming back from injury and now have to travel to Welford Road for their quarter final.

Their opponents Leinster? Who put in an almighty display to qualify, but, thanks to Sale forgetting to show up in Munster now have to travel to France to lose in Toulouse.

Sale? Needing only to avoid a tanking they duly took one to ensure they’ll be knocked out in San Sebastian in the spring.

Cardiff? After all of Dai Young’s paddies and rattle throwing about the Calvisano ‘result’ meaning that the Blues were denied the chance of playing Leeds’ reserve team you’d have thought his team would’ve been fired up for Headingley. 48-3 and the most inept display of Heineken rugby I can remember seeing.

Leeds themselves? After mullering Cardiff to dump Stade out they enjoy their quarter final place for a few hours only as they’re showed by Sky watching their dreams ripped apart as Leinster urinated on Bath (perhaps that explains the smell under the stands?)

Perpignan? Confident of a home quarter they arrange to play in the Olympic Stadium in Barcelona only to instead have to travel to Thomond Park in their last Heineken game of the season.

All are worthy candidates. I hate quoting The Simpsons, but sometimes it’s just too sentient. Remember the episode where, out of pity (the worst of all emotions) Lisa takes Ralph as her boyfriend before she dumps him on live TV? Bart later shows Lisa the tape frame-by-frame and says “Look! You can see the exact moment his heart breaks!” There were many of those moments this weekend, all equally enjoyable, if not made of Euro 2004 stuff.

I was discussing the recent Worcester victory with my Gloucester supporting friend the other week. Being a Gloucester fan he naturally hates everyone else, but seems to hold Worcester ‘they think they’re a proper Southwest rugby club!’ Rugby in especial disdain. He spoke with great joy in his voice when we next met after the game.

“I’ve been watching the replays and that pass was never forward,” he said, before adding “Good. It’s much better that way. Disallowed tries are even better than real ones.” I had to admit, he did have a very good point.

They say Schadenfreude is the most real joy, as it comes straight from the heart - I have no doubt that his views were heartfelt or that he took real pleasure from the game that day, just as I did in Euro 2004, just as many will should Bath be relegated.

Schadenfreude is an important part of sport, though one which is rarely openly celebrated outside of the Celtic nations when England lose at anything. It is a part of sport I feel should be cherished.