It's shockingly funny but Borat's rant about Jews also tells us some uncomfortable truths about ourselves
Naomi Alderman
Monday August 14, 2006
The Guardian
Sacha Baron Cohen's latest film is due for release in November, but the storm of protest has started early. Already the film, in which Borat, a fictional Kazakh reporter, spits out food given to him by Jews on the ground it may be poisoned, and refuses to fly "in case the Jews repeat their attacks of 9/11", has been called "disgraceful" and "disgusting".
I first encountered the character of Borat in a clip from his HBO TV show which has circulated widely on the internet. Baron Cohen, as Borat, stands in front of an audience at a redneck bar in Arizona and announces that he will sing "a song from my country". He then sings, "In my country there is problem, and that problem is the Jew. They take everybody money and they never give it back." The chorus is particularly catchy: "Throw the Jew down the well (so my country can be free)."
I am a Jew. I've written about my community in a way that is critical but none the less, I hope, affectionate. I love the Jewish community with all its flaws and insecurities. And I think that Borat's song may be the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life. It is funny because it is ridiculous, because it parodies the most stupid kinds of anti-semitism, because the viewer is in on the joke. And, like the best humour, it is funny because it is viscerally, nauseatingly terrifying. It contains images every bit as unsettling as Leni Riefenstahl's The Triumph of the Will. It is funny because it is true.
The reason Borat's pronouncements are unsettling, the reason they have drawn protest, is not because we think he really believes them. Baron Cohen is Jewish. He clearly doesn't actually think that Jews were responsible for 9/11. And if he were constantly met with blank incomprehension, shock or disgust whenever he spoke, there would be no joke, and no show.
The reason it is unsettling to hear Borat sing "Throw the Jew down the well" is because of the reaction of those listening. Some sit in mute astonishment and horror. But some join in. Some sing along, smile and stamp their feet. One woman even - unprompted, mind you - puts her fingers to her forehead to make horns when he sings, "You must take [the Jew] by his horns." Borat is unsettling not because his opinions are outlandish but because he reveals how many ordinary people share them.
In fact, through Borat, Baron Cohen is repeating one of the most famous psychological experiments of the 20th century: the Milgram obedience to authority study. In 1961, Stanley Milgram devised an experiment to test human responsiveness to authority. Participants were told to administer increasingly large electric shocks to an unseen person in a neighbouring room. Of course, the unseen person was really an actor, and no shocks were being delivered, but the participants did not know this. As the size of the shocks increased, they heard screams, shouts, banging on the wall and desperate pleas for the shocks to stop. Despite this, 67% of participants, under orders, gave the final 450-volt shock which they had no way of knowing would not be lethal.
At the time, Milgram (who was, incidentally, also Jewish) was criticised for these experiments. It was said that they must be flawed or were unethical and thus irrelevant. Over time, they have come to be accepted as revealing a basic truth about human nature: that if someone in authority tells us what to do, most of us will obey blindly.
Baron Cohen's Borat character reveals that the same is true in situations which are far less explicable, even, than being given orders by a white-coated scientist. People will not always challenge racist, antisemitic, homophobic and sexist statements made by a buffoon. More, they will agree vehemently, and join in with comments of their own.
Borat is shocking because we cannot help but imagine ourselves in the place of his hapless victims and because we understand - though not, perhaps, consciously - that we might have acted precisely as they did. We too might have remained silent when Borat suggested"hanging" homosexuals, or nodded politedly at the suggestion that a Humvee is suitable for "running over Gypsies". Not because we fear for our lives if we disagree but, perhaps, to avoid embarrassment. Borat is funny because he is shocking, and he is shocking because he reveals the truth.