The Joy of Pain by Richard H. Smith

policy. It was a $40,000plan, doubled in the event of accidental death. When Mr. Johnson got word of the murders, he still had Mr. Clutter’s signed check to initiate the policy, uncashed in his wallet. His rueful account of his initial reaction on hearing the news suggested more concern about how much money he and his company were going to lose rather than sorrow for the Clutters. He realized that he was the only person still alive who knew about the check. If he destroyed it, no one else would know. Even though Mr. Clutter was a friend, his own wallet was in the forefront of his mind. This concern seemed his first, perhaps primitive, reaction. He did not destroy the check though. By his accounting, his conscience led him to do the right thing, and, after discussing the matter with his manager in Wichita, the company honored the policy. But the tension between self-interest, cleanly entailed by acute monetary concerns, versus the desire to do right by Mr. Clutter was unmistakable.
    Another telling incident is described in a World War II memoir,
The Doctor and the Damned
, by French physician and Resistance member Albert Haas. He infiltrated the Nazi High Command of occupied France but was discovered by the Nazis and sent to a series of concentration camps. Because of the awful, barbarous conditions and the enveloping hopelessness among prisoners, these camps did not tend to bring out the most noble, selfless instincts in people. One day, a group of prisoners assaulted one of the guards, and the German officers retaliated by announcing that one in every ten prisoners would be shot. They lined the prisoners up in rows. A guard counted off every ten prisoners and shot the tenth one in succession. Haas was terrified and hoped desperately that he would be lucky to escape selection. As the counting got closer to his position in line, Haas calculated that he would be the next one to die. He noticed that the man just to his left was in weakened physical condition and probably very close to death. Haas eased himself over and pushed the man into his previous place. Within seconds, the German guard placed a gun to the unfortunate man’s head and shot him dead. As Haas described it, his “action was so immediate” that he “didn’t have time to think it through until after it was done.” 29 The memory of this event was fixed in Haas’s mind for the rest of his life. Despite the rational thinking girding his decision, feelings of guilt endured. Although Haas’s memoir also describes stirring acts of compassion and self-sacrifice, the fearful conditions typically made it difficult for men tosee beyond their own survival needs. As Brecht famously wrote, “Food is the first thing—morals follow on.” 30
    I have collected anonymous accounts of
schadenfreude
from many people, and the role of self-interest in guiding reactions to others’ suffering is a common theme. I am struck by how easily people can come up with powerful experiences—and also how frank they can be about the details—even if these details are unflattering. Many accounts involve competition in its infinite variety. Some echo the conflict experienced by Mr. Johnson when deciding what to do about Mr. Clutter’s check, and a few even resonate with Dr. Haas’s account. One respondent described a situation in which he had performed poorly at work. He feared a bad evaluation from his supervisor, the person most knowledgeable about his poor performance. Then he heard that the supervisor had taken seriously ill and might have to resign, might even die. On hearing the news, he felt an immediate “yes!” reaction, even though the supervisor was a good person. His honest admission was that a secret joy was his first reaction because this illness might prevent the bad evaluation. Of course, he quickly caught himself and felt a pang of guilt and a surge of sympathy, but his initial reaction sprung from what he