Role Reversal

            This week’s readings provided a new angle on the role of identity, especially Native Identity, and how authors use humor to argue for its importance as well as showing how it has been abused by Western society. In “Borders,” readers are presented with the humorous story of a woman and her son who are stuck in limbo between America and Canada because the mother insists on being recognized as a Blackfoot Indian instead of a citizen of either country. Neither border will let her pass without claiming some form of ‘acceptable’ identity. When being questioned by the Canadian border guard, the guard says “’I know,’ said the woman, ‘and I’d be proud of being Blackfoot if I were Blackfoot. But you have to be American or Canadian.” (King 141). While the predicament of the characters is humorous, it is also revealing the absurdity of forced identity. King wants the readers to recognize the oppression of identity when the woman is forced to choose between American and Canadian instead of being allowed to represent herself in a way she sees fit. We laugh at the woman’s stubbornness and perhaps feel she should give up but by doing this we recognize our own perceptions of identity and realize that people should be free to identify themselves in any manner they choose.

            Patricia Grace similarly deals with Native Identity in “Ngati Kangaru.” In her short story, Grace reverses the roles of Manifest Destiny to an hysterical effect. While not overtly recognized as Manifest Destiny in New Zealand, the native Maoris were taken advantage of by Westerners in an almost identical way to Native Americans. The role reversal is humorous and enlightening. When they are devising a plan to steal the summer homes of rich New Zealanders, Makere says the homeowners will never sign away their homes to which Billy responds, “’Not them,’ Billy said, ‘You don’t get them to sign. You get others to sign. That’s how it was done before.” (Grace 34). The absurdity of Billy’s plan to allow people to sign for houses they do not even own brings to light the absurdity of historical notions such as Manifest Destiny, and others like it. Grace’s argument that Maoris will take back the land because they have ancestral ties to it is both humorous and more valid than Western claims to the land. Through superiority humor, Grace makes a claim to the land and for once puts the Native people on the receiving end.

Kasaipwalova similarly puts natives on a level playing field with white Westerners. The narrator of his short story seems uneducated yet fiery and much of the humor is derived from his misspelling of words. The instant inclination to assume the narrator is uneducated places the reader on a higher level than the narrator and thus begins the superiority humor. However, Kasaipwalova checks this superiority with the passage, “Why aren’t you arresting those white kids inside the terminal for chewing P.K.? What’s the difference between their P.K. in the terminal and our betel nut outside on the road pavement?” (Kasaipwalova 616).

The theme of exploitation seen in all three short stories is also very evident in Candide. Candide is constantly taken advantage of due to his own naiveté and ignorance. One particular instance arises with the Marchioness in France. “The lady having perceived two enormous diamonds upon the hands of the young foreigner praised them with such good faith that from Candide’s fingers they passed to her own.” (Voltaire 61). All throughout the novel we laugh as Candide stumbles from misfortune to misfortune. From being forced to run the gauntlet to having his jewels stolen from his own fingers with ease, we wonder ‘Will he ever learn?’ In fact, the point of Candide, and of all three short stories, is not that the characters have something to learn. It is about readers learning something. We come to understand systematic abuses that have long been present in the world and how damaging they really are. Unfortunately one of the main groups affected by such oppression has been the Native populations of colonized countries. These people were seen as lesser by the colonizers and were treated as such. By reversing these roles and challenging these traditions with humor, authors present audiences with a call for social justice that it not abrasive but easy to take in. It is often said that laughter is the universal language and what better way to bridge the gap from the Western world to the Native one than with humor.

Power and Incongruity

In “Betel Nut Is Bad Magic for Airplanes,” we observe an iteration of the superiority theory of humor, in which humor is derived from belittling. Kasaipwalova writes in the diction of the Papua New Guineans. Thus, the narrator utters statements such as, “Soon the brown puppy dog comes with their white papa dog and two other brown puppy dogs too” (Kasaipwalova 615). Statements such as this elicit laughter from readers, in part because of the incongruity theory, that is our underlying expectations of what men call other men are not met. Yet the tone does not feel malicious, but rather it sounds innocent. In fact, the humor here may also derive from the fact that the narrator is ignorant with regard to his comedy (that is, he does not laugh at his own jokes). Perhaps, however, there is a tinge of superiority in the reader’s laughter, for we know something that the narrator does not.

When the narrator arrives at moments of confrontation between the Aussies and the Papa New Guineans, he describes the white man as angry and rude, in contrast to the native, who is calm and composed (616). Here, we are clued in to the epitome of superiority theory. The story is allowed to be funny, because the oppressors are the targets, and because there is no sign of the oppressed—the narrators of the comedy—becoming the new oppressors.

In a similar way, Patricia Grace uses humor to mock the way things are in “Ngati Kangaru.” She presents the serious issue of representation for the Blackfoot people, and then explains that:

“the obscure local paper did a tame, muddled article on it, which was eclipsed firstly by a full page on what the mayor and councillors of the nearby town wanted for Christmas, and then by another, derived from one of the national papers, revealing New Year resolutions of fifty television personalities” (Grace 37).

This may reflect the superiority theory as well, for laughing at the injustice of the situation awards some power, even if it is false power, to he who laughs. Incongruity theory may be applicable here too, for the reader may laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

            Absurdity and power have places in Thomas King’s “Borders” as well. The central issue is one of power, for authorities deny the Blackfoot people this name for their citizenship. Yet the constant traveling (and getting stuck) between the borders is an amusing use of repetition, and it adds a lightness to the story while making the political point as well.

            Voltaire deals with misfortune, power struggles, and absurd circumstances in his work on Candide, and exaggerates each struggle to make it comical. The story ends with Pangloss telling Candide that the events—these many horrible and unimaginable events—that occurred prior to his return and restoration were, indeed, good fortune. He says:

“There is a concatenation of events in this best of all possible worlds: for if you had not been kicked out of a magnificent castle for love of Miss Cunegonde: if you had not been put into the Inquisition: if you had not walked over America: if you had not stabbed the Baron: if you had not lost all your sheep from the fine country of El Dorado: you would not be here eating preserved citrons and pistachio-nuts” (Voltaire 87).

Candide replies that we must “cultivate our own garden” (87). Therefore, we may conclude that through his satire, Voltaire wants us to realize that we can take a stand and have some control over our own fate. He, like the short story authors for today, uses the incongruity theory as well as the superiority theory to illustrate disparities in power, as well as the repudiation of absurd remarks from buffoon-like characters in order to alert readers to potential injustice and call them to action.

Feel Good Humor

Although Descartes, Spencer, and Freud may display a difference of opinion in regards to how it may happen, they all seem to be in concurrence that laughter and humor are effective modes of making an individual feel better about themselves.  Descartes, for one, addresses both the corporeal processes as well as the mental benefits of laughter for the person who deems themselves above their object of derision.  This “derision or scorn is a sort of joy mingled with hatred,” and seems to fulfill a vindictive and insecure element of human nature [Descartes, 24].  We laugh and in doing so, feel superior to those who have prompted our laughter.  This latent hatred permeates much of our emotions and increases the joy we feel at the misfortune of others.  He also makes the claim that we are more prone to laughter when our bodies are in healthy condition (or, when we feel good) and the blood is “very fluid and subtle” [Descartes, 23].

            Spencer, an evolutionary theorist to his core, focuses more on the survivalist advantages of the physical action of laughter.  The human body is rife with excess nervous energy, which must be expelled in some manner in order to function properly.  The process of laughter “stimulate[s] not only the muscular system, as we see it does, but also the internal organs” as well alleviates any sort of emotional strain that could impede an individual’s thought process [Spencer, 109].  Therefore, laughter proves to be an indispensable tool to general well being.

            Freud’s theory of humor is similar to Spencer’s in that he also interprets it as a means for the release of surplus energy, but he addresses this energy in regards to its psychological results rather than the physical ones.  He illustrates humor as an interplay between the super ego and ego during which the super ego caters to the desires of the ego for a reprieve from the harshness of reality.  In this way, humor has the “peculiarly liberating and elevating effect” of reconstructing reality for the individual who utilizes it in a difficult situation [Freud, 116].

Humor and Laughter, Science and Satire

While the philosophers we read for our last class focused primarily on humor, on the question of why we find some events funny, the scientists read for today's seminar are also concerned with why we laugh at funny things. Incongruity theory and superiority theory make their requisite appearances, but with the advent of the scientific method and psychology, humor is dissected almost as if it were a corpse.

Descartes describes the different varieties of blood produced by the spleen, one thick and bringing about sadness, the other thin and bringing about joy. Spencer calls previous philosophical theories of laughter “generalization[s] of certain conditions to laughter; and not an explanation of the odd movements which occur under these conditions” (Spencer 99). Spencer even has an explanation for why laughter—and not another bodily function, such as yawning—is our human reaction to released tension, explaining that “the smaller muscles will be moved more readily than the larger” (105). Finally, Freud explores humor's relationship to the id, the ego, and the superego. Freud's psychology, understood by him as a science, is still philosophically relevant and often helpful for literary studies, but didn't withstand the tests of the scientific method over the past century. However, Freud, like the others, relies on some form of release theory.

Voltaire's Candide is related tangentially to these semi-scientific discussions of humor. Descartes' Article 181, “Of the function of laughter in ridicule,” reads like a manual for Voltaire's satiric style: “when we ourselves jest, it is more fitting to abstain from laughter, in order not to seem to be surprised by the things that are said, nor to wonder at the ingenuity we show in inventing them” (Descartes 25). Voltaire doesn't write with punch lines and laugh-out-loud moments; his satire (a precursor to Hau'ofa's) is fairly straightforward, and, at least for me, sometimes needs a second read to convey the depth of its joke.

Perhaps the real humor in Candide comes from the forceful attack of human society—not only religion (which we have already seen in Hau'ofa), but also philosophy and science. As Pangloss attempts to explain the earthquake in Lisbon, he uses philosophy as well as science, chastising the sailor's abuse of reason through his hedonism. In a few paragraphs, Voltaire summarizes the various responses to tragedy—religious explanations, philosophic and scientific explanations, as well as drunken avoidance of reality—and the sailor seems the most sane of any! Voltaire has no time for philosophy or science, only gardens.

Speaking of science, in our last class, we discussed various scientific explanations for laughter. These range from the therapeutic to the evolutionary. The Mayo Clinic website claims that laughter brings relief from stress by increasing oxygen intake (which stimulates endorphins), as well as increasing heart rate and blood pressure (apparently those are good things to increase). In the long-term, laughter increases positive thoughts, which release “neuropeptides” that ward off stress and illness. Within the academy, the MIT Technology Review connects the evolutionary origins of laughter to those of blushing. The theory goes that blushing is the body's disposal method for excess blood that builds up in stressful situations. And laughing? “The channeling of excess cortical excitations to parts of the brain responsible for vocalisation.” Much like blushing, “the social significance of this behaviour is the thing that has evolved, not the activity itself.” Perhaps most interesting here is that modern science seems to be confirming release theory! Spencer puts it most simply: “a large portion of the nervous system was in a state of tension” (Spencer 106f.).

I'm not sure if this makes me want to praise evolutionary theory (as an explanation for every possible human behavior) or if it makes me skeptical. Are these scientists simply descendants of Spencer's pseduo-science, or are they vindicating Spencer's physiological speculations? Just as we laughed at Descartes' description of thick and thin blood, or Spencer's notion of “liberated nerve force,” a century or two from now readers will find humor in our current conceptions of human physiology or in our poor understandings of the human mind, laughing at them just as much as we chuckle at Pangloss' remark that the Lisbon earthquake was caused by a train of sulphur in the earth. The mystery of humor will be taught to seventh grade STEM students in a few diagrams of brain neurons, and late-night comedy will eventually outsourced to another nation's better-educated and lower-paid labor force.

In Defense of Wit

Freud makes an interesting distinction between humor and wit in his essay that I think is important to explore further. 

Freud writes that “the aim of wit is either simply to afford gratification, or, in so doing, to provide an outlet for aggressive tendencies” (Freud 113).  He argues that wit is less refined and is less dignified than humor.  When looking at examples in Candide, wit is used as more of a response to a certain event or person whereas humor is perhaps more independently funny, not in relation to a specific event (as in the author constructs their own joke, independent of a real subject).  For example, in chapter 3, Voltaire writes, “Candide, was trembling like a philosopher” (Voltaire 5).  He took a specific person, a philosopher, and made humor come from it.  Independently, if he just mentioned a philosopher, it would not be funny, but he made a quick one-line joke that pointed out a quirky characteristic, turning the unfunny into funny (which I think is more of a service to philosophers than an insult).     

On the contrary, humor has a more narrow definition, as Freud claims it is a “repudiation of suffering” (Freud 111).  When we use humor, we indicate that we have rose above suffering and adversity.  While he writes that both wit and humor have a liberating element to them, he argues that humor, more than wit, protects humorists from the arrows of reality and we can escape suffering through humor.  In Candide, the whole notion of “they should all say it is for the best” is funny independently because the idea does not necessarily need any subject to match it against to make the concept funny.  Without pointing to anyone specifically, we all know as readers that not everything is for the best.  This is debatable and Voltaire is apparently satirizing optimism or some religious fatalistic belief of sorts, but this joke is not explicitly stated.  Therefore, this humor is independent, requiring no other subject to bounce the joke off of.      

It is really difficult to analyze wit and humor because they are so connected.  Both humor and wit elicit the same response: it awakens amusement or pleasure in someone.  While Freud values humor over wit in a way, arguing wit is just looking for gratification and is somewhat more aggressive, we can also argue that wit is equally as valuable as humor.  Candide is built on wit, a joke that requires a subject to bounce the joke off of, and humor, a joke that is more independently funny.  Voltaire uses one liner witty jokes to build an overall humorous story, so I think wit and humor are sometimes both required to produce a genuinely funny work.  Perhaps without humor (used as an overarching mood), wit can seem a bit malicious, and perhaps without wit, humor can become dull since the best part of humor is that someone makes a joke and then we feel gratified because we get it.  If all humor lacked intelligence and we all laughed at someone falling up the stairs, for example, it would not nearly be as gratifying to the audience because there is no opportunity for the people receiving the joke to engage and realize, aha, that was funny and I know why!  The transparency of the joke—the person falling up the stairs— is just not as stimulating or engaging to us, on the receiving end of the joke, as it once was in the sixth grade when we were considerably less witty and we required that transparent humor.    

This humor and wit combination can be seen in several examples of comedy today.  For example, in the television show, “The Office,” Jim Halpert is one of the main characters who represents sanity in the office.  Dwight Shrute is another main character who is Jim’s crazy coworker and is obsessed with bears, beets, and Battlestar Galactica.  Much of the show revolves around their relationship because they are so different and Dwight is so earnestly weird.  At the risk of simplifying too much, I think this is why the show is so great because Jim represents wit, in that we are all invited to make fun of Dwight’s shenanigans because Dwight is so odd.  Therefore, Dwight represents humor, in that he is so far out there, there is a very small margin of possibly offending someone watching the show.  Together, they make the show hilarious, but if it was just Jim, or just Dwight, they could not bounce jokes off each other as they do.  Jim kind of gives us permission to laugh at Dwight’s quirks because without Jim, we could just be laughing at a crazy person (which is the type of malice Plato is talking about).  Therefore, Jim gives us (the audience) the gratification that we all yearn for—that we are in on the joke/ we are intelligent enough to get the joke, and Dwight gives us the humor without us having to think too hard because he is transparently funny.         

In this way, maybe we do need Freud’s distinction between humor and wit because they rely on each other.  While wit provides the intellectually gratifying experience for the audience, humor provides the nonthreatening mood implying this whole book is a joke, so don’t get too offended. 

Laughing in Context

            I recently saw a very amusing two-panel comic strip. The first panel, embellished with a banner saying “Inappropriate Catcalling,” shows the classic situation of a car driving by the silhouette of a shapely woman walking under a streetlamp. The car is calling, “Nice legs, sweetheart!” to the pedestrian as it passes by.

The second panel, emblazoned, “Appropriate Catcalling,” shows a cat curled up by a cell phone. A comforting voice is coming out of the phone, telling the cat, “Hey, pal, I know things are rough for you right now, but I really hope that soon you’ll be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

I laughed pretty heartily at this little comic. Perhaps my laughter comes from an appreciation of an absurd world in which cats require comfort and bolstering up for the future. Perhaps it comes from a sense of relief when the second panel strays from a theme that causes my inner feminist to cringe. Perhaps it has to do with a reexamination of the words involved. I never really think about the fact that this action is called “catcalling,” after all, and this comic put the phrase into a new and interesting context where two very different instances with the exact same title are laid out side by side. Or perhaps my amusement with this comic strip comes from my sense of belonging to a secret club that gets why it is funny. While I don’t think this joke is terribly complex, I wouldn’t assume that everyone alive today would understand it.  Perhaps this gives me a thrill that pumps blood into my organs around and causes a burst of laughter.

A person must have a cultural context before he or she can understand the subtleties of an instance of humor like this, even when the instance described is not overly complicated. One must, however, understand the society that not only has rampant catcalling but also finds it inappropriate. It is also worth noting that our society has become somewhat obsessed with cats as of late. “Cat people” are getting more attention on social media than ever before, and it does not really seem all that far-fetched that a person may want to comfort his or her cat in this way. All this simply adds to the humorous content of this short and sweet comic strip.

Additional context helps us enjoy almost anything a little bit more. In Voltaire’s Candide, the author deflates notions of metaphysics, religion, government and philosophy. Readers will have a much fuller enjoyment of the humor here if they are able to draw parallels to the various academic fields that Voltaire incorporates. Just as the comic causes one to think about the origins and subtleties of words, Candide causes readers to reexamine what it is about these various disciplines that we so revere. The fact that these are fields to be respected is so ingrained in us that we often do no stop to laugh when they are ridiculous or incongruous. We rethink the word “catcalling” in the comic strip, but we rethink metaphysics and its teachings in Voltaire’s classic work. Both deserve a reexamination.

Candide’s Dr. Pangloss is a philosopher who arrives, through the power of his own observation and mental capacities, at the idea that the world that exists is the best world that could exist. He passes this wisdom on to his disciple, Candide, along with the idea that everything is part of a greater plan. Standing alone, this idea seems appropriately philosophical and wise. When Candide tries to live out this position, however, he is painfully shot down and exploited for his naiveté. Terrible thing after terrible thing happens to our protagonist, and we can see his ideas beginning to change ever so slightly. By the middle of the tale, he has already abandoned some of his altruistic ways and become a murderer, out seeking a profit so he might buy back his love.

This narrative subverts all expectations of the gentle philosopher whom Voltaire has presented to readers in the opening paragraph of his story. Humor in this tale comes largely from the readers’ connection of previous details in their larger contexts. Much like the catcalling example, expectations are subverted, and the one who laughs is in the know of a larger context for the joke.