The Science of Satire

By Cihan Kaan

John Stewart says of satire, “The real outcome of satire is typically catharsis and whether that’s positive or negative I don’t know. The difference between a satirist and a demagogue is we’re observers, we don’t have the confidence to take the next step.” The satirist lives somewhere between Mount Hope and the cliche tar pits of culture always trying not to get too high to fall too low. The mechanism they use to get back and forth, whether a pen, a guitar or newsrooms determine the type of satire.

The “hija” translated as satirical prose, is seen throughout the 9th Century used by one poet to mock another. In one case the poet As-Salami rips another, Abu-Dalaf, calling him “…an experienced physician, yet a physician who does not usually enjoy success in what he practices. [Abu-Dalaf] went to a sick man one day, and we commented, ‘Cheer up! You have been bestowed the martyr’s crown!’” Abu-Dalaf responds, “As-Salami has kept satirizing me, so I have said to him, ‘Love of my heart, my dear one, my master, if you do not remember our intimacy at Ray, then remember your farting from beneath me at Baghdad.’” In this short example, taken from Thalibi’s transcription, one poet boasts of the others faults, the catharsis of which being a juvenile fart joke with a pinch of eroticism. In the process, they sarcastically exalt each other in one line followed by the put down in the next.

However childish, each poet stuck to the meter of prose and kept the battle on paper even though according to the history this fiasco was continued by another set of Baghdad poets. When we search for a more nuanced satire in Islam we quickly discover the satirical rants of Jahiz who infused humorous paradoxes into the topics of the day (see “Book of Mobsters”, “Book of Misers”). His complex psychological, economic and scientific essays are hilarious in their sardonic tone incorporating hadiths and religious text with a delicate amount of self-deprecating humor.

In one story describing how his friend Ziyad found a competent storyteller he begins with, “The Prophet, Allah’s peace and blessings be upon him, used to re-sole his sandals and patch his clothing,” and after describing how his peers had “leather patches” and “no new garment for anyone not wearing a worn out one,” changes perspective to that of Zayid. Zayid says, “I went on finding out about people’s intelligence through their food and what they wore on such a day [a scorching summer day] and I noticed that the people’s clothes were new whereas his were merely enough for decency. So I assumed that he must be a man of discretion for we know that new things out of place are inferior to shabby clothing.”

This nuanced combination regaled his 9th Century audience with stories of the Prophet and Jahiz’ own friends. Even modern audiences can appreciate it but the same recipes when done wrong can lead to disaster. The science of Islamic satire is a question of balance as Jahiz himself says, “Laughter has its due place and measure, as does jesting too. When one overdoes either, or does not allow them full play, over much of them turns into garrulousness and cutting them short ends in frustration.”

There’s an old Turkish fable of Nasraddin Hodja (spelled and pronounced a multitude of ways throughout Islamica) in which his neighbors notice him throwing spoonfuls of yogurt into a lake. Intrigued by such strange behaviour they ask, “What in Gods name are you doing Hodja?” He answers, “Just throwing some yogurt into the lake to serve as a culture, my intention is to turn the entire lake into yogurt.” The confused spectators reason, “But it is only out of milk that one can make yogurt with a yogurt culture besides look at the size of the lake!”

“I know, I know,” Nasraddin Hodja answered. “But just suppose it takes!”

Indeed, in Hodja’s world, suppose we are all contributing a bit of culture to the lake. Any rational scientist would argue that if enough people put enough culture, even in small amounts, some version of yogurt would form. Yes, there are a multitude of geologic factors that may aid or interrupt the Hodja’s yogurt experiment. Maybe the salty elements will bitter the lake. Perhaps even a catastrophic dam breaks and the waters rise creating a need for even more “yogurt throwing” effort. The root idea is there, here we have a short entertaining tale about itself (the story being the spoonful of yogurt) working on various levels of sociological commentary and spirituality. Could this parable be satire? Certainly. The neighbors represent the culture more at large witnessing in strange awe this process of creation by a self-deprecating character, the eternally bewildered Hodja. In other words the science of Islamic satire begins with these types of innocent word plays told at Bedouin campfires, Ottoman caravans, or on the silk road among members of empires long gone. One person can get great value from it, another may laugh at the humor but not get it while another shrugs it off as a wasted listening experience. To the few who grasp it, volumes of interpretation can be extracted, rather lakes of yogurt culture.

As discussed earlier, in its best form satire inverts cultural mores to provide a cathartic emotional experience and at its worse especially from an Islamic perspective, leans more on vulgarity and mockery.

In one of the first “rap beefs” of Islamic literature 10th century poet Jarir satirized Hammam ibn Ghalib Abu Firas (aka Al-Farazdaq, himself a satirist) as a “trangressor of the sharia” for writing a poem satirizing the Kaaba. Al-Farazdaq had previously written about the uncleanly appearance of Jarir’s tribe. One would think two bad satirists going at it wouldn’t amount to much however to his shagrin Farazdaq ends up in jail while Jarir got off scott free. Farazdaq thought he was above it all and that his Kaaba satire would be understood. A Kaaba satire is off-limits. The idea here is, you can offend me, even my family but don’t touch the Prophets, the Kaaba or the book. I offer another angle on this “beef”. Did Jarir get out alive? No one does. By breaking the rules, MC Faraz shortened his life but Jarir went to the same place we all do. It’s just as well. These early writers used satire in political ways to mock another tribe or exaggerate faults of their perceived competitors but going too far was reserved for a special kind of satirist—the Bernie (dead tourist. See Weekend at Bernies.)

For more work from the author visit www.cihankaan.com