About ten years into my career as a city manager, I was interviewed for a similar position in another state. This was prior to the availability of the internet for research, so my information about the city was limited.
My wife and I were greeted at City Hall by the mayor a couple of hours before the time I was scheduled to meet with the other council members. He gave us a brief tour of the offices and then drove us around town. This was a huge mistake on his part. By the time we pulled back into the parking lot, I had already decided I would not be moving my family there. The meeting to follow, then, would serve as a rehearsal for an interview that would take place elsewhere.
I was asked what I thought was the most important attribute a city manager should possess. My answer was certainly not what they expected, but it was truthful. "A sense of humor," I said. "Managers can learn anything else they need to know, but if they lack a sense of humor the job will take a heavy toll on them."
Is a sense of humor like other senses? At first blush, most of us would say it is not. We have been taught since childhood that we have just five senses: sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell. Others who have examined this topic more recently have concluded that there are many more. I do not know if a sense of humor made the list but I think it should.
The five traditional senses enable us to perceive the world around us. A sense of humor involves perception as well. Because of it, we are able to distinguish those things that are accurate representations of reality from exaggeration, absurdity, incongruity, and irony. But why would we need to do this?
The answer to this question is likely found in addressing what role exaggeration, absurdity, incongruity, and irony play in human society. The actor Peter Ustinov said "Comedy is just a funny way of being serious." It seems reasonable that the strong bonds necessary to hold families and communities together can be threatened at times by the unvarnished truth. In much the same way that a sweetener makes the bitter taste of a medicine palatable, so too does disguising difficult messages through humor.
The author Percival Everett, in an interview for The New Yorker Radio Hour, highlights a slightly different use for humor among the slaves of America's antebellum period:
People who are oppressed find a way to talk to each other that does not allow their oppressors to understand what they are saying… The other thing about it is just the humor. People survive with humor in the most dire of straights. [In] the picture of slavery that's painted in literature and film, the people are all just.. bleak. If they're surviving, they're surviving because of the strength of their irony.
Within some groups and communities, then, humor provides a way of speaking that provides relief from the ills they face, while further cementing the bonds among members. As Percival Everett notes, this communication can take forms that are not understood by members who are not socialized into those groups and communities. I had a professor in college who, in commenting about the Mel Brooks film Blazing Saddles, observed that the script contained jokes that only Jews would understand. He cited one example and, to prove his point, I did not see the humor in it.
We learn through socialization when language is to be taken literally and when it is not. I have noticed this capacity in my 11-year-old grandson. When I say something not intended to be taken literally, he now asks, "You're joking, right?" He thinks that is the case but he needs to be sure. That is how we all learn the rules of these kinds of interactions.
The physical reactions of smiling and laughing when encountering humor are ways of letting other members of our social group know that we are in on the joke. When a humorous comment falls flat or causes offense, we are expected to let the offended party know that we were just kidding and to apologize for the harm we have caused. Through these behaviors we ensure that the ties that bind us are not stretched beyond their breaking point.
Through exaggeration, irony and similar speech acts we rehearse communication skills necessary to develop the acuity of our sense of humor. Self-deprecating humor is without doubt the best way to practice being funny without risking offense.
There are some whose sense of humor is weak or not evident. It is not that they are too serious. There are plenty of times when it is important to be serious. What we see is that they are humorless, that, for whatever reason, their socialization failed.
Some others, though, find humor where none exists: in the pain and suffering of others. Slipping on a banana peel can be funny but not when it results in real injury. Over time we have come to understand that there is no humor to be found in the difficulties faced by those with developmental disabilities. Similarly, we are rightly ashamed for how long we found amusement in the antics of black-face performers in minstrel shows. We cannot elevate ourselves by denigrating others or making light of their difficulties.
And, yet, we continue to learn new standards of behavior when our attempts at humor cross an invisible line that separates the acceptable from the unacceptable. This occurs particularly when members of an out-group seek admission into an in-group. Those who are members of the in-group have a choice to continue to bar outsiders or to modify their speech acts and other behaviors in order to welcome those previously denied access.
In order for humor to strengthen communities, the vast majority of members must be in on the joke. We can still count on some not quite getting it but that should not be our objective. Those who do not understand this and who engage in attempts at humor that is no longer acceptable will likely find that they have become the butt of the joke themselves. That form of rough justice seems like a reasonable outcome. At the very least, it represents an attempt to redeem the offender in the eyes of the other members of the group.
This essay on humor has been largely devoid of humor, it seems. To provide some relief as we come to the end, I thought I would share an anecdote that has become one of my favorites.
A turtle is out for a walk when he is mugged by a gang of snails. The police are called and the turtle is asked to give a statement.
"Mr. Turtle," the detective says, "can you describe the perpetrators of this heinous crime?"
"Why, no," the turtle replies. "It all happened so fast."
There is also a bit of irony that you shared this on April Fools Day