Although The Merchant of Venice is categorised as a comedy, it resists this classification. Comedies are plays that usually include humour and end in marriage. They also depict chaotic situations resolving into states of stability, happiness, and union. Shakespeare’s Merchant, however, contains many tragic elements like scenes of great cruelty and discrimination towards an alienated other, making it tricky to classify. After the horrors of the Holocaust, its “problem play” status grew (Halio 53, 57-8, 73, 82). Recent history has forever coloured the representation of the Jew as the decimated other, problematising straightforward interpretations of Merchant as a romantic comedy. Now, the play raises the question: what happens when a comedy of love becomes intertwined with a drama concerned with prejudice towards the discriminated other? This essay responds by arguing a two-part thesis. Firstly, Shakespeare portrays the dominant cultures as oppressing the alienated other through the perpetuation of double standards in the discourses of culture, law, and morality. Secondly, through this portrayal of double standards, the lopsided power differential between the dominant culture and alien other is emphasised, thereby subtly presenting audiences with a choice between an enlightened sympathy for the shunned other or the complacent enjoyment of a victorious hegemonic culture. 

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At the beginning of the play, we immediately perceive the unjustness of the Venetian’s unjust cultural perception of Shylock as the “dirty usurer.” Usury was the financial activity of loaning money at ten per cent interest. In early modern times, it was frowned upon and carried an ill reputation (Lim 356-67). As a usurer, Shylock is judged harshly by the Venetians and is labelled a “misbeliever, cut-throat, dog . . . all for uses of that which is [his] own” (Merchant 1.3.121-22).  Shylock is investing his own funds to obtain financial returns and suffering the rancour of the Venetians for doing so. Ironically, the Venetians themselves also pursue a similar kind of investment—only in the form of mercantile hazard. Antonio hazards his merchant ships on argosies; Bassanio does not even hazard his own resources, but recklessly uses borrowed wealth to court Portia to win her heart—and wealth. However, instead of being seen as mercenary, grasping, or profit-seeking (like usury), such activities are romanticised as noble and heroic. Bassanio compares his endeavour with the classical Jason's search for the Golden Fleece (3.2.250), while Antonio is referred to as “that royal merchant” (3.2.248). Thus, here lies the cultural inequality: although usury and mercantile investment are both profit-seeking and vital to a nation's economic health, the latter is hailed while the former is despised. This disparity is dramatised through the differences in the character's perception of Bassanio and Shylock, striking modern viewers with the sense of the unfair discrimination that Shylock faces as representation of the alienated other. Viewers are shown how the dominant group glorifies its economic pursuits with the trappings of glory and achievement while spurning the efforts of a similar nature by the marginalised other.

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The pound-of-flesh deal also showcases how the dominant group ignores its own moral shakiness while accusing the other of moral bankruptcy. The Christians criticise the bond as vindictive and grotesque (4.1.20-25). Yet, they easily gloss over how Antonio, while knowing the consequences, agreed to it for a loan. The deal is a metaphor for the relationship between the Jews and the Christians—a dynamic with a dark core of mutual hatred but wrapped with layers of law, officialese, and formality to sanitise it with a semblance of civilised interaction. Such a relationship is defined by both mutual detestation and necessity. The Christians heap scorn upon the Jews while having their ill-will returned with bitter resentment and hate. Yet, they are engaged in a mutual transaction made necessary by financial gain. Thus, in agreeing to this monstrous deal, the Christian is as complicit as the Jew in bearing its consequences. However, in the end, it is Shylock that is judged and not Antonio. This dynamic symbolises how the dominant group is as guilty as the other in perpetuating a cycle of hatred, violence, and animosity—and yet assumes the moral superiority of a judge in punishing the other.

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Later on in the play, the court scene shows how the dominant group enables double standards in the law to oppress the Jews. Before going to the Venetian court, Portia contacts her cousin, Doctor Bellario, a lawyer in Padua, to request for advice and the dress of legal office to disguise herself and Nerissa as officers of the law. She says: “in such a habit / that [people] shall think we are accomplished / With that we lack” (3.4.63-65). Portia leverages her well-connected position as an aristocrat to obtain legal authority—illegally. Her familial relationship with Bellario symbolises the close links between the aristocracy and the institution of law, showing how the elite of the dominant group may exert questionable influence over the law for their own benefit. As Balthazar, Portia is over-literal with the law to save Antonio: “This bond doth give thee here not a jot of blood” (4.1.319). On the other hand, Portia does not extend the same privilege to Shylock when she doles out his punishment. She accuses him of seeking the life of a Venetian “by direct or indirect attempts” (4.1.365). Yet, officially, Shylock only demanded “the due and forfeit of [his] bond”: a pound of flesh from Antonio (4.1.38). Moreover, before accusing him of wanting to kill Antonio, Portia herself makes the assumption of Shylock only desiring his bond and not desiring to kill him—even in an indirect way. This is seen in her suggestion of having a surgeon nearby to treat Antonio after the procedure. She assumes that the process will not kill him. Thus, an analysis of Portia’s adjudication shows her lack of fairness. When it benefits Antonio, Portia makes the assumption of Shylock only desiring a pound of flesh (and not desiring his life directly or indirectly) by requesting the presence of a surgeon to stop Antonio’s wounds. However, when no benefit to the Christians can be had, she conveniently drops this assumption and prosecutes the Jew relentlessly. This represents how the dominant group manipulates the discourse of law to its advantage while weaponising it to subjugate the alienated other.

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Beyond the law, the Christians apply different standards of mercy to themselves compared to the Jews, resulting in the latter's subjugation to the former. Disguised as Balthazar, a doctor of law, Portia entreats Shylock to confer Christian mercy upon Antonio. In an affecting speech, she hails its greatness and power:

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

Tis mightiest in the mighties; it becomes

The throned monarch better than his crown. (5.1.190-95)

However, Shylock remains adamant about exacting his bond. He is associated with Old Testament harshness and the literal dispensation of the letter of the law. Shylock is wholly rooted within the philosophy of the Old Testament and cannot ascend to the grace of the New Testament. In contrast, Portia and the Venetians seemingly align with the New Testament idea of grace in mercy and forgiveness (Lim 22). Yet, this association is complicated when Portia rapidly “turns the tables” on Shylock, warning him against shedding a drop of Antonio’s blood, or risk death and the total confiscation of his property. Portia then refuses to let him receive Bassanio's money offer before preventing his taking of even the basic principle. Finally, for being an “alien” seeking to kill Antonio, Portia charges Shylock with confiscation of his goods and his life to be at the mercy of the duke. Utterly defeated, Shylock eventually relinquishes half his goods and undergoes a forced conversion to Christianity under the threat of death. Although regarded as “merciful treatment” by the Venetians, this stripping of Shylock’s legal right, goods, and religion constitutes both an obliteration of his identity and an uprooting of his religiosity. This act does not fully align with the New Testament ideal of mercy hailed by the Venetians. Mercy becomes an unstable concept and an instrument of coercion for the dominant culture. Thus, the dominant group reappropriates the discourse of mercy to either benefit itself or subjugate the marginalised other accordingly. 

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Finally, the play's ending encapsulates the total subjugation of the alienated other by the dominant group through a combination of the different double standards explained earlier. Despite it ending in the usual way of a comedy—jovial marriages and unification—Shakespeare leaves a troubling element of incompleteness. While no physical violence was enacted throughout the play, there lingers a sense of tragedy and death. Shylock dies not physically, but spiritually and socially. His assimilation into the Christian community by forced conversion represents not inclusion, but the ultimate form of exclusion—a removal of the other. Like a pound of flesh excruciatingly cut from a living body, Shylock, the Jewish other, has been violently cut from the body of Venetian society. It is a dark and disturbing loss. Should an audience refuse to see the play as anything more than a comedy, they would perform the same act as the Christians upon the Jews: they dominate a perception, a narrative, and potentially a reality. The ending re-emphasises the lopsided power dynamic between the dominant group and the alienated other through his portrayal of double standards. His play questions us: will we lend an open heart to Shylock's cry “Hath not a Jew eyes” and respond with empathy? Or, do we revel in the protagonist's triumph over the Jew, complacent in his stifled: “I am content” (Merchant 4.1.410), that everything ends well—as comedies typically do? The play opens itself up to an interpretive choice: to merely see comedy in a tragedy, or to understand the tragedy in a comedy?