This is a hard saying, but a mighty, human, all-too-human principle.”įor the Melanesians who live on the remote Nissan Atoll in Papua New Guinea, laughing at other people’s pain is known as “Banbanam.” At its most extreme, it involves taunting a dead rival by exhuming their corpse and scattering the remains around the village. “To see others suffer does one good,” wrote the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. Earlier still, the Greeks described e p ic h a i r e kaki a (literally e p i, over, ch a i r o, rejoice, kaki a, disgrace). More than 2,000 years ago, Romans spoke of ma l e v o l e n t i a. In Hebrew enjoying other people’s catastrophes is s i m ch a l a ‑ e d, in Mandarin x ì n g ‑ z āi‑lè‑huò, in Serbo-Croat it is zlùradōst and in Russian z lo r ad s tv o. The Danish talk of s k ade f r y d, and the Dutch of l e e d v e r m a a k. The Japanese have a saying: “The misfortunes of others taste like honey.” The French speak of j o i e m a l i g n e, a diabolical delight in other people’s suffering. Whe n synchronized swimmers get confused, swivel the wrong way, and then have t o s w i v e l b a c k r e a ll y q u i c k l y and hope no one notices. The b o ss c a ll i n g h i m s e l f “ H e a d o f P u b i c S e r v i c e s ” o n an important letter.Ĭ e l e b r i t y V e g a n Caught in Cheese Aisle. And sometimes I feel good when others feel bad. I’m often late, and usually lie about why. I smoke, even though I officially gave up years ago. There was a warm sensation working its way across my chest. I looked about, took the magazine to the till and counted out my change. Tragically lonely following a tragic breakup. Now I’m the sort of person who usually curdles with envy on hearing about someone else’s luxury mansion. My favorite story was an interview with a pop star, or perhaps she was a model, who lived in a giant luxury mansion. There was the cellulite, the weight gain and loss, the bikinis riding up between the bum cheeks and bingo wings circled in red. But then I picked one up, j u s t out of c u r i o s i t y. And my first instinct, just in case someone was listening in on my thoughts, was to think: ugh, who b u y s t h o s e t e r r i b l e m a g a z i n e s. Last Tuesday, I went to the corner shop to buy milk, and found myself pausing by the celebrity gossip magazines.

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