Carnival (pronounced kahr-nuh-vuhl)
(1) A
traveling amusement show, having sideshows, rides etc.
(2) Any
merrymaking, revelry, or festival, as a program of sports or entertainment.
(3) In
the Christian ecclesiastical calendar, the season immediately preceding Lent,
often observed with merrymaking; Shrovetide.
(4) A
festive occasion or period marked by merrymaking, processions etc and
historically much associated with Roman Catholic countries in the period just
before Lent.
(5) A
sports meeting.
(6) In
literary theory (as the noun carnivalization & verb carnivalize), to subvert
(orthodox assumptions or literary styles) through humour and chaos.
(7) In sociology,
a context in which transgression or inversion of the social order is given
temporary license (an extension of the use in literary theory).
(8) Figuratively,
a gaudily chaotic situation.
(9) As a
modifier (often as “carnival atmosphere?”) a festive atmosphere.
1540–1550:
From the Middle French carnaval, from
the Italian carnevale, from the Old
Italian carnelevare (taking meat away),
from older Italian forms such as the Milanese carnelevale or Old Pisan carnelevare
(to remove meat (literally “raising flesh”)) the construct built from the Latin
caro (flesh (originally “a piece of
flesh”)) from the primitive Indo-European root sker- (to cut) + levare (lighten,
raise, remove), from the primitive Indo-European root legwh- (not heavy, having little weight). Etymologists are divided on the original
source of the term used by the Church, the alternatives being (1) carnem levare (to put away flesh), (2) carnem levāmen (meat dismissal), (3) carnuālia (meat-based country feast) and
(4) carrus nāvālis (boat wagon;
float). What all agree upon is the ecclesiastical
use would have come from one of the forms related to “meat” and the folk
etymology favors the Medieval Latin carne
vale (flesh, farewell!). Spreading
from the use in Christian feast days, by at least the 1590s it was used in the sense
of “feasting or revelry in general” while the meaning “a circus or amusement
fair” appears to be a 1920s adoption in US English. The synonyms can include festival, celebration,
festivity, fiesta, jubilee, gala, fete, fête, fest, fair, funfair, exhibit, exhibition,
revelry, merriment, rejoicing, jamboree, merrymaking, mardi gras, jollity, revel,
jollification, exposition and show.
Which is chosen will be dependent on region, context, history etc and
(other than in ecclesiastical use) rules mostly don’t exist but there seem to
be a convention that a “sporting carnival” is a less formal event (ie
non-championship or lower level competitions).
The alternative spelling carnaval is obsolete. Carnival & carnivalization are nouns, carnivalize,
carnivalizing & carnivalized are verbs, and carnivalic, carnivalistic, carnivalesque,
carnivallike, precarnival & noncarnival are adjectives; the noun plural is carnivals.
Originally,
a carnival was a feast observed by Christians before the Lenten fast began and
wasn’t a prelude to a sort of proto-veganism.
It was a part of one of religion’s many dietary rules, one which
required Christians to abstain from meat during Lent (particularly on Fridays
and during certain fast days), carnival the last occasion on which meat was permissible
before Easter. The
Christian practice of abstaining from meat evolved as part of a broader
theology of penance, self-denial, and imitation of Christ’s suffering, the rationale
combining biblical precedent, symbolic associations and early ascetic
traditions, the core of the concept Christ’s 40 days of fasting in the
wilderness (Matthew 4:1–11, Luke 4:1–13).
Theologically, the argument was that for one’s eternal soul to enter the
Kingdom of Heaven, a price to be paid was Imitatio
Christi (earthly participation in Christ’s suffering). Much the early church valued suffering (for
the congregants if not the clergy and nobility) and the notion remains an
essential theme in some Christian traditions which can be summed up in the
helpful advice: “For everything you do,
there’s a price to be paid.”
Lindsay Lohan arriving at the Electric Daisy Carnival (left) and detail of the accessory worn on her right thigh (right), Memorial Coliseum, Los Angeles, June 2010. The knee-high boots were not only stylish but also served to conceal the court-mandated SCRAM (Secure Continuous Remote Alcohol Monitor) bracelet.
The allowance
of fish during Lent had both pragmatic and theological origins, its place in
the Christian diet a brew of symbolism, biblical precedent and cultural
context. As a legal and linguistic
point, in the Greco-Roman scheme of things fish was not thought “flesh meat”
which was understood as coming from warm-blooded land animals and birds. Fish, cold-blooded and aquatic, obviously were
different and belonged to a separate category, one which Christianity inherited
and an implication of the distinction was seafood being viewed as “everyday
food” rather than an indulgent luxury.
This was a thing also of economics (and thus social class), the eating
of fish much associated with the poorer coastal dwellers whereas meat was more
often seen on urban tables. Notably,
there was also in this a technological imperative: in the pre-refrigeration age,
in hot climates, often it wasn’t possible safely to transport seafood
inland. The Biblical symbolism included
Christ feeding the multitudes with a few “loaves and fishes” (Matthew 14:13–21), several
of the apostles were fishermen who Christ called upon to be “fishers of men”
(Mark 1:16–18) and the ichthys (fish symbol) was adopted as early Christian
emblem for Christ Himself. Collectively,
this made fish an acceptably modest food for a penitential season. All that might have been thought
justification enough but, typically, Medieval scholars couldn’t resist a bit of
gloss and the Italian Dominican friar, philosopher & theologian Saint
Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) decided abstinence aimed to “curb the concupiscence of the flesh”
and, because meat generated more “bodily heat” and pleasure than fish, it was
forbidden while fish was not. That
wasn’t wholly speculative and reflected the humoral theory from Antiquity, still an orthodoxy during the Middle Ages: fish
seen as lighter, cooler, and less sensual.
Traditionally, there was also a Lenten prohibition of
dairy products and eggs, each proscription with its own historical and symbolic
logic and the basis of Shrove Tuesday (Pancake Day) and Easter eggs (though not
the definitely un-Christian Easter bunny).
The strictness derived partly from Jewish precedents notably the vegetarian
edict in Daniel 10:2–3 and the idea of a “return to Edenic simplicity” where man would
eat only plants (Genesis 1:29) but also an aversion to links with sexuality and
fertility, eggs obviously connected with sexual reproduction and dairy with lactation. What this meant was early Christian
asceticism sought to curb bodily impulses and anything connected with fleshly
generation and (even if indirectly), thoughts of sex.
Historically,
a time of absolution when confessions were made in preparation for Lent,
Shrovetide described the three days immediately preceding Lent (Shrove Sunday,
Shrove Monday & Shrove Tuesday, preceding Ash Wednesday). The construct being shrove + -tide, the word was from the late Middle English shroftyde. Shrove was the simple past of shrive, from the
Middle English shryven, shriven & schrifen, from the Old English sċrīfan
(to decree, pass judgement, prescribe; (of a priest) to prescribe penance or
absolution), from the Proto-West Germanic skrīban,
from the late Proto-Germanic skrībaną,
a borrowing from the Latin scrībō
(write). The word may be compared with
the West Frisian skriuwe (to write), the
Low German schrieven (to write), the
Dutch schrijven (to write), the German
schreiben (to write), the Danish skrive (to write), the Swedish skriva (to write) and the Icelandic skrifa (to write). The –tide suffix was from the Middle English –tide & -tyde, from the Old English -tīd
(in compounds), from tīd (point
or portion of time, due time, period, season; feast-day, canonical hour).
Carnival Adventure and Carnival Encounter off Australia’s eastern Queensland coast.
Although dubbed “floating Petri dishes” because of the high number of food poisoning & norovirus cases, cruise ships remain popular, largely because, on the basis of cost-breakdown, they offer value-for-money packages few land-based operators can match. The infections are so numerous because (1) there are thousands of passengers & crew in a closed, crowded environment, (2) an extensive use of buffets and high-volume food service, (3) a frequent turnover of crew & passengers, (4) port visits to places with inconsistent sanitation, health & food safety standards and (5) sometimes delayed reporting and patient isolation.
However, although the popular conception of Medieval Western Christendom is of a dictatorial, priest-ridden culture, the Church was a political structure and it needed to be cognizant of practicalities and public opinion. Even dictatorships can maintain their authority only with public consent (or at least acquiescence) and in many places the Church recognized burdensome rules could be counter-productive, onerous dietary restrictions resented especially by the majority engaged for their living in hard, manual labor. Dispensations (formal exceptions) became common with bishops routinely relaxing the rules for the ill, those pregnant or nursing or workers performing physically demanding tasks. As is a common pattern when rules selectively are eased, a more permissive environment was by the late Middle Ages fairly generalized (other than for those who chose to live by to monastic standards).
The growth of dispensations
(especially in the form of “indulgences” which were a trigger for the Protestant
Reformation) was such it occurred to the bishops they’d created a commodity and
commodities can be sold. This happened
throughout Europe but, in France and Germany, the “system” became institutionalized,
the faithful even able to pay “butter money” for the privilege of eating the stuff
over Lent (a kind of inverted “fat tax”!) with the proceeds devoted to that
favourite capital works programme of bishops & cardinals: big
buildings. The sixteenth century tower
on Normandy’s Rouen Cathedral was nicknamed “Butter Tower” although the funds
collected from the “tax” covered only part of the cost; apparently even the
French didn’t eat enough butter. As
things turned out, rising prosperity and the population drifts towards
towns and cities meant consumption of meat and other animal products increased,
making restrictions harder to enforce and the Protestant reformers anyway rejected
mandatory fasting rules, damning them as man-made (“Popery!” the most offensive way
they could think to express that idea) rather than divine law. Seeing the writing nailed to the door, one of
the results of the Council of Trent (1545–1563) was that while the Church reaffirmed
fasting, eggs and dairy mostly were allowed and the ban on meat was restricted
to Fridays and certain fast days in the ecclesiastical calendar.
By the twentieth century, it was clear the Holy See was
fighting a losing battle and in February 1966, Paul VI (1897-1978; pope
1963-1978) promulgated Apostolic Constitution Paenitemini (best translated as “to be penitent”) making abstinence
from meat on Fridays optional outside Lent and retained only Ash Wednesday and
Good Friday as obligatory fast days for Catholics. It was a retreat very much in the corrosive
spirit of the Second Vatican Council (Vatican II, 1962-1965) and an indication
the Church was descending to a kind of “mix & match” operation, people able
to choose the bits they liked, discarding or ignoring anything tiresome or too
onerous. In truth, plenty of
priests had been known on Fridays to sprinkle a few drops of holy water on their
steak and declare “In the name of our Lord,
you are now fish”.
That was fine for priests but for the faithful, dispensation was often the
“luck of clerical draw”. At a time in the late 1940s when there was a
shortage of good quality fish in south-east Australia, Sir Norman Gilroy
(1896–1977; Roman Catholic Archbishop of Sydney 1940-1971, appointed cardinal
1946) granted dispensation but the stern Dr Daniel Mannix (1864–1963; Roman
Catholic Archbishop of Melbourne 1917-1963) refused so when two politicians
from New South Wales (Ben Chifley (1885–1951; prime minister of Australia
1945-1949) and Fred Daly (1912–1995)) arrived in the parliamentary dining room
for dinner, Chifley’s order was: “steaks for me and Daly, fish for the Mannix men.”
In the
broad, a carnival was an occasion, event or season of revels, merrymaking,
feasting and entertainments (the Spanish fiestas a classic example) although
they could assume a political dimension, some carnivals staged to be symbolic
of the disruption and subversion of authority.
The idea was a “turning upside down of the established hierarchical order”
and names used included “the Feast of
Fools”, “the Abbot of Misrule”
and “the Boy Bishop”. With a nod to this tradition, in literary
theory, the concept of “carnivalization” was introduced by the Russian
philosopher & literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin (1895–1975), the word
appearing first in the chapter From the
Prehistory of Novelistic Discourse (written in 1940) which appeared in his
book The Dialogic Imagination: chronotope
and heteroglossia (1975). What carnivalization
described was the penetration or incorporation of carnival into everyday life and
its “shaping” effect on language and literature.
The Socratic dialogues (most associated with
the writing of the Greek philosophers Xenophon (circa 430–355 BC) and Plato (circa 427-348 BC)) are
regarded as early examples of a kind of carnivalization in that what appeared to be
orthodox “logic” was “stood on its head” and shown to be illogical although Menippean satire (named after the third-century-BC
Greek Cynic Menippus) is in the extent of its irreverence closer to the modern
understanding which finds expression in personal satire, burlesque and parody. Bakhtin’s theory suggested the element of
carnival in literature is subversive in that it seeks to disrupts authority and
introduce alternatives: a deliberate affront to the canonical thoughts of Renaissance
culture.
He
expanded on the theme in his book Problems
of Dostoevsky's Poetics (1929) by contrasting the novels of Leo Tolstoy
(1828-1910) and Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821–1881).
Tolstoy’s fiction he classified as a type of “monologic” in which all is subject to the author's
controlling purpose and hand, whereas for Dostoevsky the text is “dialogic”
or “polyphonic”
with an array of different characters expressing a variety of independent views
(not “controlled”
the author) in order to represent the author's viewpoint. Thus deconstructed, Bakhtin defined these
views as “not
only objects of the author's word, but subjects of their own directly significant
word as well” and thus vested with their own dynamic, being a liberating
influence which, as it were, “conceptualizes” reality, lending freedom
to the individual character and subverting the type of “monologic” discourse
characteristic of many nineteenth century authors (typified by Tolstoy).
Dostoevsky’s story Bobok (1873) is cited as an exemplar of
carnival. It has characters with unusual
freedom to speak because, being dead, they’re wholly disencumbered of natural
laws, able to say what they wish and speak truth for fun. However, Bakhtin did acknowledge this still
is literature and didn’t claim a text could be an abstraction uncontrolled by
the author (although such things certainly could be emulated): Dostoevsky (his
hero) remained in control of his material because the author is the directing
agent. So, given subversion,
literary and otherwise, clearly has a history dating back doubtlessly as many
millennia as required to find an orthodoxy to subvert, why was the concept of carnivalization
deemed a necessary addition to literary theory?
It went to the form of things, carnivalization able especially to subvert because it tended to be presented in ways
less obviously threatening than might be typical of polemics or actual violence.