Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.12

What kind of things those are that appear good to the many, we may learn even from this.

For if any man should conceive certain things as being really good, such as prudence, temperance, justice, and fortitude, he would not after having first conceived these endure to listen to anything which should not be in harmony with what is really good.

But if a man has first conceived as good the things that appear to the many to be good, he will listen and readily receive as very applicable that which was said by the comic writer. Thus even the many perceive the difference.

For were it not so, this saying would not offend and would not be rejected in the first case, while we receive it when it is said of wealth, and of the means which further luxury and fame, as said fitly and wittily.

Go on, then, and ask if we should value and think those things to be good, to which after their first conception in the mind the words of the comic writer might be aptly applied—that he who has them, through pure abundance has not a place to ease himself in.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 5 (tr Long)

I will sometimes feel like we live in an age overrun with too much satire, mockery, and ridicule, though even the briefest survey of history will remind me that people have always been drawn in by the abuse of humor to dismiss and degrade. I suspect I simply notice it so much around me, and therefore assume it is a sign of the times, because I have often come to recognize it as a form of self-importance through cruelty.

The problem is hardly about laughing, but rather about laughing at others, instead of laughing with them. That distinction is clearly drawn by our intentions. Friends will laugh and joke together, but among enemies, one will laugh while the other grits his teeth.

I have always been a committed trickster and joker, much like my father, and I have sometimes managed to pull off the most involved of gags, at the expense of both others and myself.  I usually work with a straight face and just a touch of subtle sarcasm. Yet few things fill me with regret as much as having ended up being brutally offensive, in a terribly failed attempt at being amusing. A bad joke told to the first girl I ever danced with cost me what could well have been my first date. I hope you’ve managed to forgive me by now, Jennifer.

Marcus Aurelius observes how the way we use humor reveals quite a bit about what we know is truly right and good, whether explicitly or implicitly. We are all quite ready to make fun of the things that vulgar people care about, and even vulgar people themselves will hoot and holler about their own vices. “It’s funny because it’s so true!”

But most people, unless they are deeply disturbed, will never find it amusing to mock decency. We can laugh about vices, but there’s really nothing to laugh about with virtue. A greedy lawyer is completely hilarious, but a compassionate lawyer is just a nice fellow, if you can manage to find one. You can pull off a joke about a priest if he is a drunk or a lecher, but you can’t pull off a joke about a priest if he is humble and pious. People who love money and fame are fair game, but people who love their neighbors not so much. Ned Flanders is really only funny as a foil to Homer Simpson.

Whenever anyone tries to be funny about what is right and good, most people will either shrug and turn away, or become indignant and offended.

Even in the most irreverent of times and places, there is that line we must not cross. When I was younger, my friends and I would joke about most anything. Personal quirks, annoying habits and attitudes, sex, politics, even the questionable topics of culture and race, were fair game in our circle.

There were two places, however, we did not dare to go, unless we wanted a good beating. I imagine it has long been much the same for most fun-loving men, whether they are solid guys or scoundrels.

One did not joke about another man’s religion, and one did not joke about the women in a man’s life. That included his wife, but especially his sisters and his mother. This says a little something about what my crowd thought was genuinely good in life.

The specifics may differ, but the principle remains the same. One way we can distinguish good from bad is that we don’t stand for the mockery of what is truly good.

Now one reason I will feel uncomfortable with what passes as contemporary humor is how I perceive that line moving dangerously close, or being ignored entirely. Even then, however, what seems an exception is just another modification of the rule. Again, when we twist humor simply to insult and belittle those we dislike, we can only manage it by giving them bad attributes, whether they are real or imagined. We make fun of an honest man by suggesting he is really a hypocrite, or a kind man by saying he is actually obsequious.

Humor can be a very subjective thing, and a very touchy thing, and we can either use it well or abuse it. Whatever the case, it always exposes something about our real values. 

Written in 5/2006