On Laughing Less

An essay of the living English philosopher, Colin McGinn, recently caught my interest: “Against Laughter.” He argues that laughter should be banned – whether by explicit policy or merely social custom he leaves somewhat ambiguous. He evidently recognizes that his argument is fighting an uphill battle, as most people will want to preserve their right to laugh; it is typically so tied up with amusement and fun that many will understandably desire to preserve it. McGinn, however, is aware of such concerns and is ready to succinctly combat them by making a variety of distinctions and intriguing comparisons that well draw out his point (distinctions that are not dissimilar to ones that I have made previously on the blog). I think his viewpoint should, therefore, be taken seriously.

Before coming to his rejection of laughter, some clear points of clarification are necessary, and McGinn himself is quite careful to acknowledge these. The first is that his position should hardly be considered a rejection of either amusement or humour (he uses the former term while I have preferred the latter). He recognizes that amusement can be had quite handily without any laughter at all, and McGinn actually encourages this sort of experience. The second is that not all laughter is necessarily equal; a ridiculous cackle at a high-end restaurant is not worth the same opprobrium of a child hearing a silly nursery rhyme, but he does certainly think that it is all emblematic of a kind of immaturity and lacking self-control. In my view, this is an insightful point, and I believe we can all understand times when laughter has been inappropriate or even stupid.

What I intend, therefore, is simply to provide an abbreviated repetition of McGinn’s argument before offering my qualified support and explaining why it is only limited. The crux is that I think he misses the communicative potential of laughter and its capacity to be controlled and used by a mature soul. McGinn seemingly overlooks this aspect of laughter, perhaps because he is trying to make his point so emphatically since laughter is seemingly everywhere and beloved by everybody. This overlooking nevertheless provides several insights, and I would echo his concerns about us frivolously indulging in laughter (as well as highlighting circumstances in which we are liable to do so). Whereas McGinn wishes to no longer hear laughter, I wish to recognize the richness and depth it signals – a signal that has been abused today to the point of becoming worthless but therefore open to restoration.

Most briefly, McGinn understands laughter to be something of an uncontrolled and animalistic response to whatever circumstances we may happen to find ourselves in. There is something nearly stoic or hesychastic about the normative ideal he seemingly holds in the background of the essay; he sees any loud and arguably unregulated outburst as a childish indulgence that we should perpetually work to curb. He specifically likens laughter to the shrieking of children at play; a not-yet-disciplined child (or person) is liable to make loud and uncontrolled noises when overcome by profound emotions such as fear or excitement. McGinn is honest in that he does not hate when a child does so, but this softness is a concession only made due to his recognition of their immaturity. Indeed, many of us would likely acknowledge that an adult involuntarily shrieking while playing tag on a playground would come off as (at least) off-putting in a number of ways. In short, McGinn sees laughter as an emblem of an undisciplined soul; to be in possession of oneself is to be without even a snicker, giggle, or chortle.

As a further defense of his view, McGinn is careful to distinguish that he is not condemning other actions that can convey amusement in a similar manner to laughter: namely, a grin or a smile. He explicitly refers to smiling as “laughing without the bad bits.” Unlike laughter, a grin in public is unlikely to disturb anyone; as for the one who merely smiles, he can remain in control of himself and lose the smile rather rapidly even if something in his situation were to change all of a sudden – once more, the inner stillness appears tantamount. In this manner, McGinn is able to preserve a manner of corporeally communicating one’s amusement – to be saved from having to say “That’s funny” with nothing but a straight face and dry tone is evidently necessary to not seem like a robot. Lastly, McGinn is also favourable to such silent expressions of amusement while condemning laughter because he sees the former as maintaining a sense of composure in which he does not lose track of that to which he is reacting.

This is, perhaps, the most convincing part of McGinn’s assessment: the corrosive nature of laughter for properly assessing the value of something amusing. A recent sadness for me has been the seeming increase of Stand-Up Comedy specials (especially on various prominent streaming services) but that this has not come with a concomitant increase in genuinely amusing or humorous specials. I have, on a number of occasions, thought of relaxing for an evening by putting on one of these specials to unwind; I am frequently upset, however, to have not heard anything funny at all and wind up turning off the program even after enduring for about fifteen to twenty minutes. I do not think that this is because I personally have a gripe against certain subjects of humour but due to some comics mistaking things like merely complaining or using odd voices and characters for humour itself – though these are really only the vehicles that humour may use. Despite this, these supposed comedy specials are replete with a cackling audience from start to finish – something that is so bizarre given the content of the special that I have had fellow comedy lovers remark to me that they think it is not real laughter but a laugh-track. Another similar though distinct happening has been that people have revisited the hit Sitcom Friends but tried to watch the show without the audience laughter; when one does so, one is struck by just how blasé and weak much of the humour in the show really is. The laughter itself makes us think that what is going on is funny, an effect – perhaps – of us being deeply mimetic and social creatures, but the lack of that laughter quickly reveals that we do not see the humour in the ‘art’ or ‘product’ itself. Our reactions are borderline manufactured by the forced or canned laughter confusing our judgement of the material itself.

This observation from McGinn is well-taken, and he even suggests that the people who have the shrewdest senses of humour tend not to be the most plentiful laughers – if they even laugh at all. In some sense, their perspectives being so well formed in minutiae of humour and jokes gives them a deeper perspective in which the more facile has a lesser place and therefore is undeserving of laughter (or maybe any reaction at all); we might liken this to how a music connoisseur will not be taken and sway with a given electronic-dance-music track in the mannerthat he would be with one of Bach’s symphonies – he simply knows too much for the former to be what really moves him. When engaging with such a man who has this developed sense of humour, it is actually an achievement if we say something that winds up making him merely grin. When he does so, we know that our own amusing display has achieved a sufficient level to move him – even in his superior formation – and signals that we are participating in that same, adept manner of profound humorousness.

What McGinn misses in his analysis, however, is that there is a possibility that laughter could be employed with control. He presents his view in a rather one-sided manner (perhaps because he thinks he is facing a tidal-wave of resistance) that neglects the fact that laughter can be something used to indicate just how funny something is. I have known a few old men and women who all love joking, but I rarely hear (or heard) them laugh with any force; nevertheless, on the odd occasions when they do, we are overcome with a sense that whatever was just done or said was truly amusing. Of course, McGinn has noted that laughter has been cheapened – as exemplified by my notes about current stand-up specials and sitcom laughter – which may suggest that the entire enterprise needs to be abandoned. I am – for once – not so pessimistic and would argue that this is conceding an unnecessary loss of possibility; our task should instead focus on reclaiming laughter, using it far less readily, and being more reflective about the moments in which we employ it. We want to become those aforementioned well-aged folks from whom we wish to pull a laugh.

My challenge, then, is for you to consider just this problem: how liberally do you give out your laughter? What would happen if we treated our laughter like our innermost thoughts and concerns, hidden until someone is able to connect with you through a profound moment of creative unity? What if people became surprised and delighted to hear you emit a laugh on the odd occasion you do? I think this would restore a value to this peculiar bodily movement wherein scarcity increases its worth. I even have hope that this is being procured in newer Sitcoms; two examples I have enjoyed being Modern Family and Abbot Elementary, though The Office (which I have not watched) is also relevant here, in which there is no laugh track. I have watched entire episodes and thought that it was funny without needing to laugh aloud, though there is the odd joke that does call for a small chuckle. Such shows are giving space to reclaim the place of laughter by not demanding or artificially manufacturing it, and I would hope that a greater sense of reflection upon when we allow ourselves to indulge in this most valuable of signs will undue the cheapness with which we have infected it.