Philosophical Reflections on the Case of Pinocchio

Original Illustration by Enrico Mazzanti for Carlo Collodi's 

tale of a punk puppet: Le avventure di Pinocchio (1883)

Although the Pinocchio myth has, thankfully, transcended its Disneyfication and is often now critically discussed in relation to cyborgs, posthumanism and artificial intelligence (both reflecting and challenging contemporary concerns), I think it important to also remember the original story by Carlo Collodi ...

Born in Florence in 1826, Italian author and journalist Sig. Collodi translated French fairy tales by Perrault in 1875, before beginning work on his own allegory for children five years later known as the 'Story of a Puppet' and first published in weekly installments in a newspaper created for young readers. Eventually, the tale was produced in book form entitled Le avventure di Pinocchio (1883). Collodi achieved world-wide fame with this work, although, unfortunately for him, he died a few years after its publication in 1890.

As everybody knows, Pinocchio is a hand-carved wooden-figure with a nose capable of dramatic changes in size whenever he is under stress or caught in a lie; a marionette who dreamt of becoming a real boy, but instead became a cultural icon whose story inspired countless new editions and spin-offs and has been adapted into over 260 languages.

Pinocchio is also a rebel who ridicules the paternal authority of his maker at every opportunity and even steals the old man's wig. Collodi is at pains to remind his readers that Pinocchio isn't a hero, but rather a rascal, a ragamuffin, and a confirmed rogue who won't allow anyone to pull his strings. If girls just want to have fun, then punk-puppets, it seems, just want to cause chaos, crush crickets, climb trees, and chase after butterflies. It's no surprise to discover that Pinocchio was much-admired by Malcolm McLaren. 

His bad behaviour, however, is roundly condemned by the author-narrator and Collodi reinforces the conventional moral belief that whilst good behaviour deserves to be rewarded, bad behaviour deserves to be punished - and punished severely. Thus it is that, in the earliest version of his story, Pinocchio comes to a tragic and violent end: his enemies, the Fox and the Cat, bind his arms, put a noose round his neck, and hang him from the branch of an old oak tree:

"a tempestuous northerly wind began to blow and roar angrily, and it beat the poor puppet from side to side, making him swing violently [...] And the swinging gave him atrocious spasms [...] His breath failed him [...] He shut his eyes, opened his mouth, stretched his legs, gave a long shudder, and hung stiff and insensible."  

It was only in the revised and extended book re-telling of his story that a resurrected Pinocchio, under the influence of a fairy godmother with blue hair, learns his lesson and comes good; finally acting in a responsible fashion and willing to study, work hard, and provide for his elderly father, thereby earning the ultimate reward: human status.

In sum: on the one hand, The Adventures of Pinocchio teaches a positive moral lesson: 'Listen to the voice of your conscience, children, and the truth shall set you free!' But on the other hand, it threatens bad behaviour and disobedience with capital punishment. Indeed, as one critic reminds us, Pinocchio is not only put to death for his sins in the original tale, but "stabbed, whipped, starved, jailed, punched in the head, and has his legs burned off".

Of course, some might point out that he's just a wooden doll - but he's a wooden doll, we are encouraged to believe, with the ability to experience pain. No wonder, then, that many sensitive young readers were upset by the savage cruelty that Collodi delights in.

As a Nietzschean, however, I share in this idea that humanity is an effect of tremendous cruelty and suffering experienced over a long period of time. Indeed, what else is human history and culture other than a spiritualisation and intensification of cruelty? To create a puppet with the right to claim human status is, therefore, to create a being that knows how to endure the agony of existence and still manage to give a little whistle. 

See:

Carlo Collodi, The Adventures of Pinocchio, trans. with an introduction and notes by Ann Lawson Lucas, (Oxford University Press, 2009).

Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morality, ed. Keith Ansell-Pearson, trans. Carol Diethe, (Cambridge University Press, 1994). 

Nathaniel Rich, 'Bad Things Happen to Bad Children', Slate, (24 Oct 2011): click here.


This post is dedicated to Georgia Panteli.