Much of the blog discussion thus far has centered on
the topic of justice: that we must use humor to incite society to question its
choices and policies, and ultimately, do something about them. Many satirical
books, movies, and plays cause audiences to laugh, yet audiences then need to
consider why they are laughing. In reading thinkers such as Plato, Hobbes and
Kant along with writers Mark Twain and Woody Allen, I found it important to
look for a common theme. True to the nature of humor itself, the common
presence was that of contradictions.
Though Plato considers laughter as “something to be
avoided,” he raises the notion that comedy causes “a mixture of pain and
pleasure” in his dialogue between Socrates and Protarchus (Plato 10). The
feeling of experiencing pain and pleasure at once certainly provokes examination.
In the argument, Socrates brings up a distinction introduced in class: that he
who is powerful and ignorant is laughed at (a target) because he can defend
himself, and may more accurately be considered with contempt, but when the weak
become targets, those who laugh are malicious. Hobbes too, views humans as
taking part in a constant power struggle. He believes, in essence, that “the
passion of laughter is nothing else but sudden glory arising from some sudden
conception of some eminency in ourselves, by comparison with the infirmity of
others” (Hobbes 20). We can conclude that this laughter sparks examination of
the self and others, depending on the
targets of the jokes.
Yet what examination exactly does humor make us
experience? About what does it make us think? Kant discusses the positive
aspects of humor and says that this version involves “the talent of being able
voluntarily to put oneself into a certain mental disposition, in which
everything is judged quite differently from the ordinary method (reversed, in
fact), and yet in accordance with certain rational principles in such a frame
of mind” (Kant 50). Here, Kant illustrates the notion that humor helps one
judge and examine the subject matter in an often counter-intuitive, but still
rationally accurate manner. The ability to think in such a way is essential to
change, because it is only in this state of mind that we can address
absurdities and the aforementioned inevitable power struggles. It also invites
the rhetoric needed to discuss such serious questions as raised in calls to
action such as King’s Letter and Kolvenbach’s work: “we can no longer pretend
that the inequalities and injustices of our world must be borne as part of the
inevitable order of things” (Kolvenbach 32). Justice is, then, a project that
emanates from rhetoric.
But how are
we invited into these frames of mind? How do writers and thinkers use rhetoric
to invite us into these conversations? The common theme was present in the
reading assignment as a whole, as well as in the specific readings:
contradiction. Both Twain and Kierkegaard assert that humor is the product of
contradictions. Twain makes a distinction between the comic and the humorous,
and argues that in comic stories, the punch-lines are shouted, insulting the
audience and making one “want to renounce joking and lead a better life” (Twain
240). Kierkegaard too asserts that this effort in trying to emphasize the
pathetic achieves nothing. Yet both artists explain that a grave manner is important
for presentation. Twain says that the teller must artfully simulate a position in
which he is “innocently unaware that they [incongruities as subject matter] are
absurdities,” and Kierkegaard speaks of the dialectic relationship that sparks
laughter by its nature (Twain 241).
Ultimately, humor can be used effectively to
undermine power, to trample on the powerless, or to open the readers’ eyes to
injustices, and hopefully spark action. At its most basic, the heart of humor
is in contradictions. Thus, we can search for these contradictions—or “absurdities,”
as a few of the philosophers have termed them—in our society and ask ourselves
why we laugh at them. Then perhaps the humor can be useful.
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