Insight is a good thing, and insight into where our
laughter comes from not only can spare us a lot of misery but is worth a laugh
in itself. Still, as one witty writer said, "Analyzing humor is like dissecting
a frog. Few people are interested and the frog dies of it." Despite the risk,
I'm putting humor and laughter on the dissecting table. I love humor as much as
any cutup, and obviously I have no wish to fracture its funny-bone or see it
croak.
Humor, bless its existence, is often a byproduct of the
clash in our psyche between inner aggression and inner passivity. The voice or
"intelligence" of inner passivity (our unconscious ego) often produces humor for
the purpose of deflecting and reducing to absurdity the harsh pronouncements
and judgments of inner aggression (our inner critic or superego). Last week's
online "Rumble in the Air-Conditioned Auditorium" between TV personalities Jon
Stewart and Bill O'Reilly serves to illustrate this point.
From the perspective of psychoanalysis, Stewart, the easy-going
liberal humorist and host of "The Daily Show," sees and relates to the world
from the vantage of inner passivity. He generates much of his humor by cleverly
mocking the pretensions and inconsistencies of the establishment and the right
wing. O'Reilly, of course, is the gruff Fox TV commentator known for his
denouncements of liberal positions. His persona, while capable of humor, is a
caricature of our authoritarian inner critic. Each man represents an opposing
side of the major clash in the human psyche between inner aggression and inner
passivity. Stewart provided some evidence of this unconscious connection when
he said, O'Reilly's "like comfort food for me. I feel like I
grew up around these guys. He's my shepherd's pie." Since O'Reilly is the
embodiment of Stewart's inner critic, Stewart obviously feels right at home
dueling with him.
The two men are friends, and it's a tribute to them
that they've connected with some measure of goodwill, despite coming from
opposing positions in the psyche. Still, when watching their "rumble" we're
like children giggling at two quarreling puppets when we don't appreciate the "intelligence"
(unconscious dynamics) pulling the strings behind the scene. Deeper awareness
makes humor an even better medicine.
Humor comes in many guises, among them wit, irony,
sarcasm, jocularity, buffoonery, and whimsy. Jocularity often holds people up
to ridicule; someone is made the butt of a joke. Yet why should human
foolishness or suffering be laughable at all? Instead of laughing, we could be callous,
scornful, or compassionate, as indeed we often are. However, we very much desire
the delightful pleasure of laughter, and we grasp for it when we can. Laughter comes
easily as an intense momentary release of inner freedom, like the toot of a
safety valve or the exalted cry of an escaping prisoner. We're liberated
momentarily from the considerable weight of inner reproach and disapproval that
comes at us from our ubiquitous inner critic. When a joke identifies someone
else as the fool or failure, he or she is offered up as a prisoner to our inner
critic: "This person is obviously a better object of ridicule than I," we
unconsciously proclaim, "and much more deserving of disapproval." In that
moment, we're experiencing sharp relief that someone other than ourselves has
been "captured" by the inner critic.
TV comics Jay Leno and David Letterman nightly roast
celebrities and politicians on their shows. Leno cracked me up a few years ago
when he said, "Today, Mick Jagger is 65 years old--and it's also the 30th
anniversary of him looking like he's 65." The laughter is all sporting, good-natured
fun; the iconic singer himself would probably chuckle. Still, technically, the
joke is at his expense. For the joke to work, he's sacrificed for our emotional
relief. I laughed gleefully because I felt in that moment: "Imagine looking 65
when you're only 35. I never looked that
ridiculous."
This reveals the degree to which, on an inner level, we
live under the inner critic's constant, hostile surveillance and oppression. Our
inner critic is the giant of the psyche and the hidden master of our
personality. It constantly holds us accountable and questions our actions and
decisions. It's important for us to know this. Otherwise, we function to a
considerable extent in a state of inner passivity, unable to neutralize our
inner critic and continuing to waste much mental and emotional energy doubting
and defending ourselves against its relentless assault.
Like Leno and Stewart, people who become comedians have
from an early age made a fine art of deflecting inner attacks by directing
them on to others or by reducing them to absurdity. While such people can
confound the inner critic as well as authority figures in society, the effect
is temporary. Their unwitting use of political and sarcastic humor is not going
to overthrow the tyranny of the inner critic, nor will it trouble the economic
and political establishment. Their humor, when unconsciously employed, is
simply too defensive. The court jester, a specialist at self-preservation and a
dogged approval-seeker, is no threat to the king.
While some humorists present artificial victims to
their inner critic, others present themselves as the victims. This is the Rodney
Dangerfield self-derision persona, where a comedian makes himself an object of
ridicule. Once again this humor gets laughs because people are happy to see
someone other than themselves--it doesn't matter who--dangling from the butt-end
of life. This formula applies, too, to the "insult comedy" of Don Rickles and
the "big oaf" persona of Jackie Gleason. Some humorists of the Rush Limbaugh
school practice an especially vicious variety that's fired off like cannonballs
of cynicism, with hostile sarcasm for gunpowder. Their explosive cynicism draws
in people who are eager to blame others for their own suffering. This "humor" registers
high collateral damage because it serves not to placate inner aggression but to
direct it unmercifully and unjustly toward others.
Humor as a form of defending ourselves from the inner
critic is passive and unstable. It's like playing chess against a
supercomputer--one nervous twitch and you're done. Some famous comedians have
died young from drug abuse--notably, Lenny Bruce, John Belushi, and Chris
Farley--because intense inner conflict undermined the power of self-regulation.