“Philosophy, beginning in wonder, as Plato and Aristotle said, is able to fancy everything different from what it is. It sees the familiar as if it were strange, and the strange as if it were familiar. It can take things up and lay them down again. It rouses us from our native dogmatic slumber and breaks up our caked prejudices.” ― William James, Some Problems of Philosophy
If the Stanford Encyclopedia's article on humor is right, most philosophers have been very unkind to comedians. If a Martian anthropologist landed on earth to study our philosophies, Stanford says, they "might well conclude that humor could be left out of human life without much loss". Ancient philosophers such as Plato considered laughter to be hostile and malicious, as if derisive laughter were the only kind. Maybe that was true 25 centuries ago. I don't know. If there had been a stand-up comedian in the Christian middle ages, he probably wouldn't have lived long enough to finish his second joke. Can you imagine what the Inquisitors would do if they were to watch Sarah Silverman's stand-up special, Jesus is Magic? I imagine their heads would explode. Most of the Stanford article paints a sad and thin picture of the relations between philosophy and comedy. Their dismissive contempt was followed by a series a bad theories and but the final paragraphs offer some hopeful signs.
"If philosophers wanted to undo the traditional prejudice against humor," the author suggests, "they might consider the affinities between one contemporary genre of comedy - standup comedy - and philosophy itself." It's quite an overstatement to say that standup comedians are the new philosophers but the Stanford article makes a case that some kinds of comedians operate like some kinds of philosophers in some respects. And it just so happens that the affinities between them line up quite nicely for a person with tastes like mine. If the seven similarities identified by the author had to be boiled down to just one word, I think "subversive" is that word. Let me explain.
Before listing the seven (at least) affinities, the author spills some ink explaining the differences between comedy and tragedy, which were already well established in the 6th century BCE. In both cases life is depicted as a struggle against failure, foolishness, sickness and death but they differ in their response to the struggles of life. Tragedy is earnest and sincere. It's about heroes who are willing to fight for their ideals. Tragedy valorizes the, "Warrior Virtues - blind obedience, the willingness to kill or die on command, unquestioning loyalty, single-mindedness, resoluteness of purpose, and pride." This is approximately the opposite of Comedy, with it's tricksters, bumblers and anti-heroes. "Comedy has mocked the irrationality of militarism and blind respect for authority" since the time of Aristophanes and it still does today. The Comedic Virtues are "critical thinking, cleverness, adaptability, and an appreciation of physical pleasures like eating, drinking, and sex." Unlike Tragedy, which tends to be idealistic and elitist, the protagonists in comedy are not kings or superheros but ordinary, relatively powerless people.
These differences are most applicable to the story-telling we find in theater and cinema but it's easy to see that standup comedians did not evolve out of tragedy. Where the protagonists in a comedy will mock authority, a good standup comedian knows it's right and proper to "punch up" but very uncool to "punch down". In other words, mocking those with more power than you is fine and good but mocking those with less power just means that you're a bully. (This is why Dennis Miller, Andrew Dice Clay, and Nick DiPaolo are among my least favorite comedians.) This refusal to defer to authority, as well as the other comedic virtues, shows up on the list of seven affinities between philosophy and stand-up comedy. For both this subversive attitude is not just a display of rebelliousness for its own sake, or course, but rather a matter of prioritizing critical examination of authority. Loyalty and deference are incompatible with critical thinking about power and they're not compatible with telling a truthful joke about power.
Another item on the list of affinities is very well described by William James, although he wasn't thinking of standup comedians when he wrote it. "It sees the familiar as if it were strange," James said about philosophy, "and the strange as if it were familiar." The comedian and the philosopher can both take a reflective attitude toward the familiar. The comedian will evoke laughter by making the familiar seem strange but the philosopher's way of unsettling us is often pleasurable in a similar way. This is related to the critical thinking and lack of deference and to another item on the list of affinities, namely the emotional disengagement that it takes to stand back and ponder a thing. Criticism and mockery both demand a certain distance from the subject of examination.
The similarities listed so far reflect their shared attitudes but the remaining affinities describe the methods and styles they share in common. Both are conversational and interactive, Stanford says, and they both pose questions. And, finally, both activities demand a careful and precise use of language. These affinities might seem a bit trivial but maybe these last three items make the whole thing add up to something larger than the sum.
I'd like to suggest that this list of affinities can be taken to mean that philosophers and comedians are both artists and language is their chosen medium. Nobody is a very good comedian or a very good philosopher right from the start, not even those with loads of talent and intelligence. They both know the way to Carnegie Hall: practice, practice, practice. Both of them pose challenges to their respective audiences by raising questions, painting alternative visions, or by altering the light in way that let's us see old things in new ways. This is almost literally what a painter does, but a philosophic vision or the absurd portraits of a comedian are more than just analogous; they all preform a similar function and evoke similar responses in their audiences. They refresh and unsettle us, provoke thought, put things in perspective, and tickle us in countless ways - most of which are difficult to describe. There are philosophers and comedians (not to mention painters) that fail to do any such tickling or provoking, of course, but some of them "find their voice" and thereby raise their craft to the level of an art form.
-David Buchanan
Thanks for the post, David. In the spirit of making the familiar strange, I think this subject deserves more philosophical attention. Comedy is serious business these days, and it’s everywhere. It might not be a stretch to say that it stands in for philosophy with more people than philosophy proper, if you count TV and movies.
You’ve had me thinking about this relationship. Both philosophy and comedy transmit ideas, and both can dress up cruelty, misogyny, racism, etc. just as easily as it can expose these. The ethical hazard for comedy is that its ultimate goal is to be funny, and the audience wants to laugh, so the ideas don’t always get much scrutiny beyond their meeting that standard. Compared to that of philosophy, comedy’s audience is less alert to persuasion, and, in my experience, anxious to believe in a comic if it will make the set seem funnier. What I liked about the guy featured in your last post was that he seemed to be suggesting that comedy might be capable of some form of self critique.
I think comedy is invaluable when society, culture or politics needs to be cut down to size, but can it realistically accomplish self-critique, without equivocation? I’ve been wondering about this lately. Most days, I enjoy the Stewart/Colbert brand of satire, but it irks me to no end when something Stewart says has an undesired social effect, and he waves it off by saying he’s doing a comedy show. It’s disingenuous; he obviously wishes his ideas to be considered seriously in certain moments, and they deserve to be, but he can’t have it both ways.
I also have some misgivings with the idea (popular with some in comedy) that if ridicule is only distributed universally, then all is fair game. As you put it, punching down should be bad form. Not every target is equally formidable or deserving, and the line between prejudice and satire can be very blurry indeed. Second, this line of thinking seems like a modern day extension of the role of the king’s fool, but with the media situation being what it is today, the question becomes: what kind of king does the fool make? Should we take an ironic stance toward everything?
A couple of months ago, our Not School fiction group finished up a Houellebecq novel just as the Hedbo attack happened. I found the ethics of the situation surrounding him difficult to navigate, since his books (generally considered satire) lend themselves to such drastically different readings depending on one’s perspective. Seen from a certain angle, they make salient some conflicts between certain sets of values, and are even brave at times. From another perspective, they seem destructive and cynical. The bottom line is that they are ambiguous enough that readers will draw different conclusions, some of which will obviously be severe. If they are, what culpability lies with the author? I’m not sure myself, but I do think the question deserves attention.
Btw, there are certain comedians that I can absolutely buy as philosophers. This is my favorite Hicks clip:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fQ_D6gWLXI&w=420&h=315%5D
I just heard a routine on NPR by Irish standup comedian Colm O’Regan called “The Bounds of Comedy”; it’s a must-listen for this discussion. You can listen to it at http://themoth.org/stories (second item on the list).
Thanks for reading, gents.
I wish Bill Hicks was still around to make us laugh and think and laugh some more.
Speaking of comedy’s bounds, about ten years ago a comedian in the UK was sued for blasphemy. Seriously, blasphemy in the 21st century. Like Hicks, Stewart Lee is a comedian’s comedian.
From the Wikipedia page on Stewart Lee: “Jerry Springer: The Opera, a satirical musical/opera based upon The Jerry Springer Show, was broadcast on BBC Two, following a highly successful West End run for several years, and as a prelude to the show’s UK Tour. Christian Voice led a number of protest groups who claimed that the show was blasphemous and highly offensive. In particular, they were angered by the portrayal of Jesus Christ. Disputes arose, with supporters claiming that most of the protesters had neither seen the show nor knew of its actual content. Others supported the right to freedom of speech. Several Christian groups protested at some of the venues used during the UK Tour. The show was broadcast with a record number of complaints prior to its transmission. In total, the BBC received 55,000 complaints. A private court case brought by Christian Voice against Lee and others involved with the production for blasphemy was rejected by a Magistrates’ Court.”
That’s what I think is interesting about the O’Regan routine. The comedian himself ends up deciding that he’s gone too far. As he puts it: “I thought I was David fighting Goliath, defending art against money. Turns out that sometimes David is just an a**hole.”
Thanks, I checked it out—it was a good story. Interesting how we frame situations in certain ways to ourselves…
If punching up is all that is allowed in humor that is critical of others, does that mean a person like Bill Gates is only allowed to make self-deprecating jokes? (Is punching sideways allowed?) Similarly, if we imagine a person who has been reduced to the lowest of the low, are they allowed to punch up to absolutely anyone? What if the person making the joke punches up, but not far enough for the subject of the joke to be above the audience? Would we then say that the comedian could punch up, but we couldn’t laugh? Or rather, when we say you can “punch up” but not “punch down,” we are not making a relativistic statement, but instead are assuming some universal middle-class person (say) who draws the line? Or does punch up not down refer only to the likely audience? So a blue-collar comic amongst a white-collar crowd might not be able to make the same jokes?
Or what about satirists like Swift, who would condemn all of humanity in one swipe? Isn’t that punching up and down simultaneously? Can I only half-laugh?
This question of punching down is reminding me of prose poem from Baudelaire called “Beat Up the Poor”. I believe it’s relevant:
http://lovewithoutsound.blogspot.com/2009/02/lets-beat-up-poor-charles-baudelaire.html
Nice post! I’ve always enjoyed philosophy and had a somewhat harder time with comedy. The William James quote immediately juxtaposed the two for me to good effect. You make some solid points regarding language, providing fresh points of view and the virtues of philosophy & comedy.
I think the thing that’s most difficult for me with comedy is its portrayal of powerlessness or unavoidable / uncorrectable and unsatisfactory circumstance. Comedians like Louis CK or the late George Carlin come to mind. Honestly my experience with comedy is super limited.
Philosophy, on the other hand, often proposes models for overcoming difficulty. Pragmatism, stoicism, epicureanism, etc all seem like a thrust in the direction of a more satisfying life and outlook.
I’ve considered this discussion for 4 years and finally have my reply…
Comedy and philosophy both necessitate problems but only one is allowed to solve them. Philosophy can assess a problem, offer a solution and be victorious because it’s not beholden to humor. Comedy can’t solve the problems of its content. It can bring the feeling of relief ( = distraction but not solution) surrounding the problem, but if it were to solve the problem of the subject it’s assessing it’d cease to be comedy, it’d just be philosophy. When you were laughing, Carlin was a comedian. When you weren’t, he was a philosopher. Either way, he was a genius.