I. Introduction
Culture is a nearly impossible concept to fully understand and there are several competing definitions. In the dictionary, the word "culture" is defined as "the behavior patterns, arts, beliefs, institutions and all other products of human work and thought; also: the characteristic features of everyday existence (as diversions or a way of life) shared by people in a place or time" (American Heritage 2001:213). But culture is so much more than can be contained in a few concise definitions. For the individual, culture is such an ingrained part of life that it becomes an objectified fact. People participate in culturally generated rituals and communicate with symbols with such a frequency that they forget that there was ever a time when these things lacked cultural significance. Popular modern culture is a slightly easier notion to comprehend because it is immediately observable. This popular culture can be seen in literature, film, music, art, on the news, in commercials and even at the pulpit. As Ray B. Browne put it, "popular culture has this two way relationship with our lives - both effecting the values we construct for ourselves and reflecting values we have already constructed - that popular culture taken as a whole is the most common part of our cultural heritage and our day to day present living environment" (Nachbar 1978:4). It is a mirror for society as it reflects the interests and concerns of the masses. And never has there been a character more prolifically portrayed in popular culture than the devil himself. So how is it that Lucifer, the Great Adversary, has persistently and pervasively occupied the imaginations of so many? I would posit that while the Christian tradition claims itself to be strictly monotheistic, the pervasive presence of Satan in modern culture points directly to the underlying dualistic nature of Christianity.
II. What is Dualism?
At this point it is necessary to separate the philosophical definition of dualism, or the belief that reality is divided into two ontological categories, such as mind and matter, from the cosmological definition of dualism. The term dualism here specifically means the belief in two opposing forces, one good, one evil, struggling against one another. This notion of dualism has historically been a popular theodicy , or an answer to the problem of evil. It is not to be confused with polytheism, or the belief in multiple deities. Christianity is traditionally believed to be a strictly monotheistic religious tradition. Monotheism, from the Greek monos, meaning "one" or "single", and theos , meaning "god", means exactly that--the belief in a singular deity. But attempting to fit Satan into a strict monotheism causes some major problems. If God controls the Devil completely, then how is he not to blame for the evil deeds perpetrated by him? If God cannot control Lucifer's actions, then it challenges the view of God as omnipotent. This problem is not unique to Christianity, or even the Abrahamic tradition from which it springs.
Zarathushtra is the central figure in Zoroastrianism, the religion of the ancient Persian Empire, and he is widely regarded by religious scholars as the first monotheist of the western tradition (Fisher 2005:233). Zarathushtra believed in the supremacy of one god, Ahura Mazda, who was similar to the Abrahamic concept of the god Yahweh in that he could create only good. To explain the problem of evil in the face of an omniscient god, Zarathushtra proclaimed that when Ahura Mazda created humanity he gave everyone the opportunity to chose between the two dueling cosmic forces at work in the universe; Spenta Mainyu, the all-good spirit of Ahura Mazda, and Angra Mainyu, the evil, demonic spirit of Ahriman. However, even Zarathushtra's teachings were not strictly dualistic because he believed that ultimately, good would triumph over evil. This is very similar to the way many Christians view the spiritual warfare between God and Satan (Kessler 2008:52).
One might think that in modern times, especially after the period of scientific awakening during the enlightenment, that Satan should only be relevant to fundamental Christians who interpret the Bible literally. Indeed, for Christian fundamentalists, Satan is as real and as relevant now as he was to the Puritans. However, the significance of the Devil as a cultural icon suggests that fundamentalists are not the only group who still takes the Devil seriously. American sociologist and theologian Peter Berger theorized that religion, like society itself, was both directly influenced by, and a direct influence on human culture. This system propagated itself through a three-step process: externalization, in which the physical and mental processes of men assimilate themselves into the world; objectification, in which these processes take on a life of their own and are no longer seen as culturally constructed products; and finally, internalization, where society re-appropriates these newly objectified facts as part of its collective consciousness. It is in this manner that the notion of Satan has become so important culturally and occupied the collective imagination of society, regardless of individual theological beliefs (Berger 2001:24).
III. Examples of Satan Personified
The period of the Enlightenment and the birth of modern science more or less forced the world to give up on the Medieval version of Satan as a scaly, cloven-hooved monster, stinking of sulfur, roaming the earth and threatening the salvation of wretched humans. So men transformed the Devil into what they needed him to become to remain relevant as an answer to the problem of evil, even if his role was becoming increasingly indirect. As society progressed, so did the Great Adversary. He remained an important part of the collective cultural imagination, becoming romanticized as a rebel and a revolutionary. One way this can be demonstrated visually is through the physical transformation of Lucifer in art from a hulking monster to a beautiful youth, practically indistinguishable from any human.
Through the middle ages, the depiction of Satan in art was fairly uniform. The fallen angel was twisted and grotesque, often represented as a hybrid of man and beast. Hieronymus Bosch's Devil had the head of a falcon, mouth agape as he devoured the souls of the damned and then defecated them into the pit of oblivion. Michael Pacher painted the Evil One as a scaly green creature with spindly legs and the gnarled tusks of a boar. It was not until the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries that this vision of the Beast was challenged.
In his short story "Onuphirus", published in 1832, Theophile Gautier presents a modern twist on the demonic that has become the one modern society is most accustomed to. As Robert Muchembled put it in his book, "A History of the Devil", Gautier "established the stock figure of a young dandy-demon, well dressed, with a red moustache, green eyes and a pale face, whose ironic twist of the lips suggests the ability to mock his wretched victims" (Muchembled 2003:199). In an enlightened, post-revolutionary France, this new personification of the Evil One took root very quickly. Perhaps the French had grown tired of the terror that had reigned throughout the revolution. They had seen the devil at the guillotine, and this was their way limiting Satan's ability to spread fear and dread among this overwrought population. The next year Paul Gavarni, a popular French cartoonist, published a cartoon of Satan in the Parisian newspaper "Le Charivari". Gavarni's Lucifer is dressed as a fashionable young Parisian man, escorting two lovely young girls down the street, smiling as one of them reaches up to touch his dainty horns, barely covered by his trendy haircut.
This new gentleman-devil was not only changing his appearance, but also his methods. Satan was becoming more internalized. There was no longer any need for him to skulk around the dark places of the earth when his work could be accomplished comfortably, and perhaps more efficiently, in the minds of men. This development, rather than taking any power away from him, made Satan even more dangerous and unpredictable. Mark Twain's swan song, "The Mysterious Stranger", was published posthumously in 1916. This story of a sleepy sixteenth century Austrian town visited by a beautiful young stranger paints a disturbing picture of the Dark Prince in a new, humanistic light.
Theodor, the protagonist, and his two friends, Seppi and Nikolaus are relaxing in the woods, having a leisurely discussion about the mysteries of the universe. Suddenly they are approached by a young man who seems to have appeared out of thin air. Twain, it seemed, had also bought into Gautier's concept of the young dandy-demon, describing the handsome youth approaching as well dressed and elegant, with a winning smile. He introduced himself as an angel named Satan, named after his uncle, the Devil. Despite his demonic lineage, this little Satan claims that he was unfallen, perfect and incapable of doing wrong. He could read the boy's minds and filled their pockets with fruit and cake. At first the boys were frightened when Satan demonstrated his incredible powers, but they were soon enthralled by him. Theodor and his friends watched as Satan made minuscule men and women from the dirt, who instantly began to work laboriously building a tiny, perfect castle. No sooner had the little people completed their work than Satan set fire to it with miniature lightning bolts. His tiny creations tried to escape but Satan just nonchalantly swept them back into the flames as if her were swatting at flies. The boys were horrified, but Satan did not understand why they were so upset. Satan explained that the tiny men were of no consequence and he could easily create more for them if they wished. It soon becomes clear that this opinion is extended to all of humanity. Satan considers humans to be a contemptible "museum of diseases...he begins as dirt and departs as stench" (Kahn 1978:37). He is especially contemptuous of man's "moral sense", which he speaks of as a horrible affliction. Satan scoffs at the idea that men believe that this moral sense elevates them above the other animals on earth. To Satan it is this moral sense that has corrupted man beyond redemption, because once man is able to discern good from evil he has the opportunity to choose to do evil, and he often does (Tuckey 1963:10). Satan continually demonstrates this principle to Theodor by simply giving the people in his small village the opportunity to do evil. Satan never has to dirty his hands by directly interfering, he has only to rely upon the “defect” in human nature that causes them to distrust their neighbor, but still remain desirous to appear well in front of them. One by one Theodor watches the people of his village reveal their true nature, and by the end of the story, he has become completely disillusioned, not only with his fellow man, but God as well. It is then, when Theodor is at his most vulnerable, that Satan decides to deliver his final blow. He tells Theodor that the whole of existence is merely a vision, a terrible dream created in Theodor's own mind. Theodor is the only thing that is real, and even he is just a sentient thought floating through an empty universe. Satan wonders at how Theodor did not know the truth all along, for nowhere but in a dream could God create such a miserable, bitter, short-lived creature such as man and then "with altogether divine obtuseness invite this poor, abused slave to worship him” (Tuckey 55). Satan vanishes, leaving Theodor dumbfounded at the now obvious truth, and the reader slowly realizes that destroying Theodor's faith in God had been Satan's ultimate goal all along.
IV. Our Love Affair with the Faustian Legend
Human culture has had a long-time love affair with the notion of bargaining with the Devil. This notion is rooted in antiquity and it not limited to Christian mythology. The Persian epic poet Firdusi tells a tale of the demon Iblis promising the Arabian Prince Zohak to "place him higher than the sun" if he will only sign a pact with him (Rudwin 1970:169). Ahriman is said to have made a failed attempt to bargain with Zarathushtra in exchange for his allegiance. Maximilian Rudwin, in his book "The Devil in Legend and Literature", suggests that the belief in the validity of a devil-compact came to the Jews during their years of captivity under Zoroastrian rulers, and they subsequently passed it on into the Christian tradition (Rudwin 169). This belief took an especially strong hold in the middle ages when Pope Innocent VIII recognized man's ability to form a pact with Satan in his "Summis desiderantes affectibus", Latin for “desiring with great ardor”, a papal bull issued on December 5, 1484 (Rudwin 173). This fell directly in line with the medieval notion of Lucifer, prowling the earth collecting human souls.
The Faustian Legend has endured the centuries to become one of the most retold stories in literary history. Dozens of novels, plays, films, operas and even ballets have been based on, or inspired by this age-old concept. Americans have created a special relationship with Faust. Nathaniel Hawthorne appropriated the framework for a number of his works. The Devil was still a very real, physical presence to Puritans in 18th century New England, and Hawthorne was no exception. For Hawthorne, sin itself was tantamount to a pact with Satan and his most illustrious works, such as "The Scarlet Letter" and "Young Goodman Brown", paint a picture of "individuals actively participating in their own damnation" (Grim 1988:142).
By the early 20th century, the Constitution and the principles fought for in the American Revolution had become embedded in our collective national psyche, giving the notion of Faust a uniquely American twist. There is no better example of this than Stephen Vincent Benet's "The Devil and Daniel Webster". Published in 1936, Benet tells the story of Jabez Stone, a struggling New Hampshire farmer. As Stone stands in the middle of a barren field with a broken plow, a sick horse, a sore thumb and two children down with the measles, he rails against the sky "I vow, it's enough to make a man want to sell his soul to the Devil! And I would too, for two cents!" (Benet 1937:17) The next day a soft-spoken man with a broad smile dressed all in black came around asking for Stone. Jabez was a religious man, and he knew who the stranger really was, but being between a rock and a hard place, he signed a pact with his own blood. Stone immediately began to prosper. His farm was the envy of the entire valley and there was talk of him running for the State Senate. He had managed to bargain with the stranger for an extension of three years on his "mortgage", but as his time was drawing near, he went to find Daniel Webster. Webster was a lawyer who was said to be so virtuous and patriotic that when he began to speak, stars and stripes would fall from the heavens. Webster was only too delighted to take Stone's case, "for if two New Hampshiremen aren't a match for the Devil, we might as well give the country back to the Indians! (Benet 33)". The stranger shows up to collect his property, and Webster argues every point of the contract. When Webster tells the stranger that it is unlawful for any American citizen to be forced into the service of a foreign prince, the stranger scoffs at the idea of being a foreigner.
"And who with better right?" said the
stranger, with one of his terrible smiles. "When
the first wrong was done to the first Indian, I
was there. When the first slaver put out for the
Congo, I stood on her deck. Am I not in your
books and stories and beliefs, from the first set-
tlements on? Am I not spoken of, still, in every
church in New England? 'Tis true the North
claims me for a Southerner, and the South for a
Northerner, but I am neither. I am merely an
honest American like yourself-and of the best
descent-for, to tell the truth, Mr. Webster,
though I don't like to boast of it, my name is
older in this country than yours." (Benet 39)
Webster insists that the case is a constitutional issue and demands a trial for his client. He says he does not care where the trial takes place so long as the Judge and Jury are Americans. The stranger produces a jury comprised of some of the most notorious and dastardly characters from American history, including Blackbeard the pirate, and the loyalist Walter Butler who led a troop of Indians in the Cherry Valley Massacre. The presiding judge was Justice Hathorne , the only magistrate over the Salem Witch Trials who never repented his involvement. The odds were clearly stacked against Webster, but he knows he stands on firm constitutional ground, and he argues his case passionately and soundly. In the end, the jury of the damned finds for the defendant, and Webster expels the devil who "hasn't been seen in the state of New Hampshire from that day to this. I'm not talking about Massachusetts or Vermont" (Benet 61).
At the same time that Daniel Webster was putting his boot to the Devil's backside, there was a real life Faust roaming the back roads of depression era Mississippi. This man would eventually leave his own indelible mark on the legend.
I gotta keep movin'
Blues fallin' down like hail
And the days keeps on worryin' me
There's a hellhound on my trail
-Robert Johnson, Hellhound On My Trail
Robert Johnson was born in Hazlehurst, Mississippi in 1911. He was the illegitimate son of a plantation worker, born blind in his right eye. When fellow blues artist Son House recalled meeting Johnson for the first time in 1930 he remembered him as an annoying "little boy" who was lacking in his guitar skills, but played a passable harmonica. Johnson left a trail of failed marriages and illegitimate children across the northern half of Mississippi and lived a mostly itinerant existence through most of his late teens and early twenties. He recorded a few singles, but only one of them came remotely close to being a hit. The details of Johnson's death are shadowy to say the least, but all accounts agree that in the summer of 1938, Johnson was slipped a glass of poisoned whiskey at a country jook outside of Greenwood, Mississippi. Rumors suggest that he may have been engaged in an affair with the wife of the man who owned the establishment. Johnson died a painful death three days later on August 16, 1938, just a few months after his 27th birthday. No one was ever charged in connection with his death and he was eventually buried at the expense of the county. Robert Johnson remained a virtual unknown for several decades after his death, his recordings being passed around a small community of jazz and blues enthusiasts. In 1966 Pete Welding, a reporter for Down Beat Magazine, published an interview with Son House about Johnson. House made an offhand comment about the speed with which Johnson's guitar skill had progressed from the time they first met, saying Johnson must have "sold his soul to the devil to learn to play like that" (Pearson 2003:89). The story caught fire. Three years later Columbia records remastered Johnson's recordings and repackaged the man himself with a new dark arts aesthetic, hyping up the Faustian echoes of his legend. The reissues were released to rave reviews and new fans and reviewers alike were happy to buy into the story of Johnson's shadowy compact with the Devil. Record producer Samuel Charters wrote "As he sings he seems to cry out in a high falsetto voice. Johnson seemed emotionally disturbed by the image of the devil...the figure seems to be his torment" (Pearson 25). In reality Johnson only had one song that specifically mentioned the Satan, and despite countless interviews with family and friends, no one has ever confirmed Johnson mentioning any deals with the devil. Son House refused to discuss the subject in all subsequent interviews. Yet with overwhelming evidence to the contrary the legend has persisted and grown. Today Johnson is recognized as one of the all time greatest blues musicians and is referred to as the "grandfather of Rock-n-Roll", but he is never discussed without mention of his demonic connection. "Experts" have gone so far as to identify the crossroads where Johnson conducted his black deal, claiming it to be the intersection of US 61 and US 49 in Clarksdale, Mississippi. It is a popular tourist attraction for blues and occult enthusiasts alike.
V. Conclusion
History has seen very few absolute dualisms, but I would venture that there are just as few absolutely monotheistic religions. The ever present figure of Satan, lurking in the dark corners of human culture, is proof of Christianities yearning for the convenience of a dualistic tradition. Who better to serve as the scapegoat for the problem of evil than Old Nick, the Father of Lies, the Prince of Darkness. For centuries, people have heaped their woes on Satan's back rather than look to God for the answer to their misery. But Satan is culturally significant, not only to Christians, for another reason. I think Fyodor Dostoevsky summed the problem up rather neatly in his novel “The Brothers Karamazov". Ivan and his brother Alyosha are having a theological discussion about the reality of the Devil in the the world. Ivan is a strong believer in God and the Devil, but he is willing to concede on obvious point. "I think if the devil doesn't exist, then man has created him. He has created him in his own image and likeness." Alyosha ponders this for a moment, and retorts with, "Just as man created God, then?” (Dostoevsky 1976: 220). In other words, if the Devil was just a social construct of human culture, what could that imply about God? The belief in Satan is supported by the belief in God, because if one is willing to admit that the devil is just a product of human imagination then, it would have to be considered that God could be also.
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