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Four or five theories of humor are acknowledged as notable, and they're all wrong. This book at least has the virtue of recognizing this in the case of theories other than its own. This review is lengthy, yet the book can be laid to rest in one simple point. The authors know that mere false assumption cannot explain the nature of humor. So in a confused attempt, they disguise that triviality with "covertly entered belief" which has nothing to do with any joke and very little to do with humor generally. Those facts are proved here, and only here, beyond any doubt. (The book even confuses covertly entered belief with anything hidden by a joke).
The theory is thus a development of the erroneous tradition that the humor in jokes consists mainly in the process of solving them. That is a repetition of the humor, but not the only source or the idea itself. The considerable time these criticisms have been ignored by the media and academe, is among the most outrageous cases of complete stonewalling of an idea in all history. These comments, though in an informal setting, merit a serious response. I advanced what is clearly the only true theory of humor in 2011, presenting it to Daniel C. Dennett himself in a conference at Colby College in 2013. Though related to the humanities, the theory is completely naturalistic and far more empirically verifiable than the one in this book. Notice Mr. Hardy's five-star review, where he gives not one specific reason to believe the Hurley-Dennett-Adams theory other than that it is "serious" and humor "promotes our fitness," both trivial facts. Hardy claims the book discusses what "humor does to our brains," while there's nothing in it that supports any conclusion about that. Instead, it does just what Hardy denies and recommends against because it's "difficult" -- it is seeking, as it should, a common property to all humorous stimuli.
The superiority and release theories are the most obviously false and should be considered only historical anecdotes. It is easy to see, and admitted by scholars, that superiority could only be a condition or feeling that accompanies or is associated with the response to humor. For some, a relief theory means that humor enables the satisfaction of suppressed impulses. But in this, its familiar form, it does not offer a universal idea, because it describes humor that is tendentious or has an actual person as the butt, though not necessarily one that invites ridicule. In other words, here "relief" means something separate from the humor. Humor is intrinsically, or actually relief, because it is a faint image of the satisfaction in escaping from an unpleasant reality, of being selfishly deluded. The victim of humor might be the one who rejects the perpetrator, but this victim is thus put in the role of delusion, and in any case, delusion is not an act of violence. While for Freud release in laughter signifies a wasted effort, this too is a false description of the phenomenon.
In recent years there have been a few theories that try to explain humor in evolutionary terms, that of Ernest Garrett, for example, and Hugh Basil Hall. These views either leave alone the question of humor's meaning, or they claim that it can be identified with its evolutionary origins. In other words, conflict resolution is primordial and humor resembles this process. For Garrett, what is funny about a dog elevated to a position of prestige, is that it evokes the discovery of weakness where power was expected -- forgetting that there need be no expectation involved with the personified dog. But the main error is that a particular case of humor is mistaken for the general concept. The removal of the serious is an example of something that's funny--because worry can be a mistake--and is also the effect of humor.
Hurley, Dennett and Adams rightly debunk the "incongruity theory," despite its being the most accepted view. It claims either that mere contrasts or their resolution cause a vague pleasure identifiable as humor. Now the former of the two accounts does not explain its typical great-versus-small juxtaposition, and in those cases it is trivial. It identifies the obvious dual elements, saying nothing insightful about them. But it is usually misapplied, producing more error. It is not, for example, informative to describe a prattfall as "incongruous," unless the change implies a thematic sense. "Dignified versus lowly" may allow the fall to be seen as thematic. But the humor in that very description, when unpacked, turns out to derive from more specific ideas of delusion, absentmindedness, and death (the humor of death is that small concerns appear grandiose when life seems to be sacrificed for them). In the standard theory, every kind of irregularity or sharp variance is thrown into one heap, so that the concept not only loses the original meaning -- "high versus low" -- but even has no meaning at all.
The newer version is that puns, for example, while having other humorous effects, can create an appropriate incongruity. In other words, a foible or complaint is mentioned, linked to another idea by the double meaning. (If one needs an example, note the entire joke about the piano player and containing the line "do you know your monkey just dipped his balls in my martini?").
In the first place, the paradigm just mentioned has two possible meanings, even in the identical aspect of a joke. The standard "appropriate incongruity" theory interprets this idea to mean the way we understand jokes, the way we "get" them, resolving an incongruity. It cannot be refuted, because it is a permanent part of the humor. But what proponents of the "getting the joke" approach fail to realize, is that this idea is a repetition of the central theme of jokes, and it is extraneous to the main part of their meaning. The true theory of humor, then, assimilates the old "incongruity resolution" theory. Everything falls under the theme of "selfish self-deception."
Thus the appropriate incongruity should also be seen as sarcasm, directed at a deluded stereotype who is not present in the most ideal form, though there is an actual addressee. Something painful or foolish is exposed obliquely using double meaning as a screen, in the same manner in which we whisper to someone sarcastically. The only sensible option for humor theory is to discard incongruity and replace it with the one thematic concept that it implies. Academe now stands on the threshold of that event. It might be considered already past, since it has been worked out in thorough detail.
This book's theory of humor fails completely. The theory is right to identify error as the framework but it contains no further insight. It does not tell us that the theme of humor is always a kind of motivated error rather than accidental. And the authors don't understand that the humor in jokes is allusive, as an allusion to selfish self-deception. In using the word "allude" or "allusive" in this theory, I am not being deliberately artsy or difficult, or just borrowing from literary theory. The word here could just as easily be the simpler "refer" or "signify." I use "allude," however, because the kind of reference is subtle, while there are also other reasons. Allusion can be a source of humor itself (as in the joke class of "appropriate incongruity"), and it uses the root "ludus" one of several terms related or synonymous with humor.
The authors hold that when the correction of a committed belief is funny it is because the believer lacked a certain degree of awareness of the belief. The awareness that they have in mind is as much as would be necessary for direct consideration of the belief. And they hold that when such correction is not funny, the believer was more conscious of the belief and could at least consider it directly. These assertions look very doubtful, since many conscious mistakes are funny and many non-conscious ones are not. But the reference to commitment is equivocal, as one kind of commitment requires awareness and another does not. Now there is a kind of humor in which a fact has been forgotten, and is recovered by a subtle reminder. But that is not covertly entered belief, but the simple act of forgetting.
Readers defend the book's theory of covertly entered belief by pointing to the few jokes that thinly veil something from the audience, for example, the one about a man fishing at an ice rink. But it doesn't work, because false assumption is only one of many allusions to selfish self-deception, and it is not the general feature of jokes. But if it were, overtness of belief in some jokes would make no difference in the funniness. Note also, how much overtness there is, for example, in sarcasm. The first way to disprove the theory is to show that it is not a good description of jokes. The following is from the book.
(A) Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you've got a mile head start, and they're barefoot.
(B) Before you criticize someone, you should (as we say metaphorically) walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you've got a mile head start, and they're barefoot.
Here is why the above does not support the theory. The audience still does not know what belief will be corrected, while this belief correction is humorless anyway.
Even if covertly entered belief was funny, in (A), the figurative use could have been consciously considered, without being written in as in (B), but with no significant loss of humor.
What is more important is that, once the joke is understood, the unnecessary phrase is seen as an explanation. The joke now seems to analyze itself, only after one gets it.
Covertly entered belief is not funny. It is minor. The main humor (here the authors are right to focus on language) is in the shift to literal from figurative -- and all kinds of meaning-based humor work by referring vaguely to an abstract personality that loses a quest for social acceptance (or hospitality). That's why puns are funny; all other explanations in history have failed. In the lesser aspect, the joke sees the figurative moral adage as pompous. But this does not appear to be another "appropriate incongruity," except in the coarse -- prevalent -- sense aforementioned of jokes' substance being reduced to the understanding process.
The parenthetical, "as we say metaphorically" makes the belief into information, as the audience is being told that "in their shoes" is being used as it normally would. Though the figurative use is normal and expected, writing it into the joke remains an external source. The book thus equivocates between first and third person.
Take, for example, Hurley-Dennett-Adams' joke about a man and woman as strangers on a train.
A man and a woman who have never met before find themselves in the same sleeping carriage of a train.
After the initial embarrassment they both go to sleep, the woman on the top bunk, the man on the lower.
In the middle of the night the woman leans over, wakes the man and says, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm awfully cold and I was wondering if you could possibly get me another blanket."
The man leans out and, with a glint in his eye, says, "I've got a better idea... just for tonight, let's pretend we're married."
The woman thinks for a moment. "Why not," she giggles.
"Great," he replies, "Get your own damn blanket!"
On the Hurley-Dennett-Adams theory, what is funny here is that one moment both the woman and the audience think the man means by "married" to keep the woman warm by sharing his bunk with her, and then both she and we discover that his meaning is different. But such a correction itself, inert and strictly about meaning, is not funny. It is funny that the woman is fooled and mistaken about the man's intention. That is a different belief, motivated and desire-laden, which is allusive and unexplained by the Hurley-Dennett-Adams theory. Though the woman's experience is not stereotypically comical it alludes to that condition.
There's no humor in the correction of the meaning-belief either in our case or for a character in the joke. That would only be the direct source of humor if the initial use of "married" was a conventional meaning that another character failed to understand. Thus the verbal humor too is allusive. This example, also, does not seem to fall under "appropriate incongruity." There is a delay in this joke before a word is reinterpreted. Like the example of "a mile in their shoes" this ambiguity signifies a classic type of gaffe. It alludes to a truly comical situation in which meaning is in fact misconstrued in a way that is self-centered. When double meaning is funny on its face, it signifies the misappropriation of a society or other social member, in an act that alienates the one who does the misreading.
That there is also a reference to marriage being a pleasurable experience that turns out to be unpleasant is only further proof of my interpretation. Heaven that turns out to be hell is just a repetition here or echo of the same theme of selfish self-deception.
Inside Jokes only improves on the classic theories by suggesting that mistakes in general are an important element. That approach, however, is mishandled and ruined. All of the 100 analyses of jokes are incorrect and some blatantly so. The book attempts to show that jokes amuse by inviting false assumptions and then correcting them by the punch line, mainly. But very few jokes fit this scheme, and it is never a very funny idea. Inside Jokes thus takes a minor aspect or narrow type of joke and makes that the main theory. The authors present their theory as open to objection while remaining overconfident. Yet they are right that there had never been a valid global theory when they wrote this book.
The authors try to apply their theory of "covertly entered belief" to the way jokes thinly conceal what is going on, but also to the audience's awareness of some clear false belief (not of its falsehood, but that it is believed). These are two different things which this book does not well distinguish. The former topic is relevant with respect to how jokes either succeed or are spoiled. But this does not explain jokes, and what the book mainly presents is the latter (viewer's false assumptions). It is always possible to consciously fall into the error involved in a joke. And it is absurd that an entire book is written about jokes advancing a theory that does not even apply to them. Not only is covertly entered belief irrelevant to jokes, it is not a main source of humor elsewhere. The book first mentions covert entry as an isolated first-person perspective, such that it means not vocal entry, but mental (Hurley, 121). This theory is supported by the argument that explicitly revealing any best concealed feature of humor would "telegraph the punch line" (Hurley, 118, 134, 230).
If anything, note this difference. Audience false assumptions are important to jokes, rarely -- covertly entered belief is never important to jokes.
Many reviews of Inside Jokes focus on the evolutionary notion that "sugar is sweet because we like it." Inside Jokes uses this theory of sweetness to argue that humor has become a super-normal stimulus, like dessert, for example. Thus the idea here is that a more extreme stimulus causes humor to appear to be an objective quality. But a superior humorist is not extraneous to evolution at all, and is none other than an exceptional human type that evolution has made possible. Contrary to Hurley-Dennett-Adams, humor is an objective quality. Though there is often only a mild humor found accidentally in everyday experience, that difference of accidental and contrived humor does not always hold.
And incidentally, the trendy scientific adage that sugar is sweet because we like it is a type of fallacy known as a half truth. It is true that the experiential sweetness of sugar follows causally from its caloric or energy-producing power. However, the attraction to sugar per se is not evolved in the sense that the consciousness of sweetness is. And since consciousness evolved independently of the attractiveness of sources of energy, the sweetness of sugar, for us, is not a direct byproduct of its attractiveness to organisms generally. "Sugar is sweet because we like it" is a trivial and misleading observation.
Regardless of that question of half truth concerning sweetness, in humor the covertly entered belief theory is false. But one must do more than disprove this. The way to use it and to disprove the entire theory is by a modus tollens argument. Though they clearly maintain the "covert entry" thesis the authors sometimes omit it. That inconsistency alone almost makes the book completely unintelligible. Yet the idea of covertly entered belief appears throughout the book and is meant to apply to every example, without exception.
But the theory that humor is covertly entered belief must be true if the main theory of this book is true, and here is why. The theory requires that the false beliefs causing humor are initially untested and free of doubt and that humor evolved from such beliefs. The authors claim that humor happens if and only if "an assumption is epistemically committed to in a mental space, and then discovered to have been a mistake." Now on this theory the original object of humor was the grammatical first person or observer himself. Yet while there is no evidence for that thesis and it is almost certainly false, it is not crucial. Whether the origin or primary object was the first or third person--or neither, as is most likely--the bottom line is what kind of error is most important.
The quoted claim implies the related covert entry theory. The quotation does not refer to what one might call reasoned beliefs, and yet the "discovery of a mistake" rules out the irrational. Obviously, stories are different from direct experience, in that in the latter we more independently revise our beliefs. But it makes no difference in this debate whether jokes can also revise our beliefs in either of those ways. The fact remains that, in direct experience, beliefs that might be conveniently revised are very unlikely to be assumed, or regarded as probable. It is not impossible, but unlikely, uncommon.
In other words, "committed" normally implies a conscious attitude. But that meaning is quite impossible here. Assumptions, unless they are justifiable, can hardly be consciously committed. If a false assumption may be described as a belief, but the truth is well within immediate reach, it is almost impossible for the assumption to be conscious. Yet the authors of this book ignore that, and they waffle between the ideas of covertly entered and conscious conviction. One might stop there and dismiss their argument as incoherent or a fallacy. Yet the said beliefs would have to be "covertly entered," if and only if they had to be free from doubt. Such freedom from doubt is the only condition that satisfies the above quotation.
But the authors are dishonest where they arbitrarily designate this sort of casual assumption as committed or not (see p. 199-200). It is not "commitment" that they truly have in mind (which is ruled out for careless assumptions by definition) but rather a confidence expressed merely by not thinking about one's belief. Not only is the theory a sophism, but the author defended it at a conference by freely judging whether a belief was committed. His theory is thus plagued by equivocation or a lack of clarity, which contrasts with its scientific platform or overall methodology.
The quoted statement refers to assumptions that are not doubted, and yet easily corrected, even by the one who errs. They cannot, for example, be very powerful deceptions. And thus they are assumptions that do not rely on strong evidence or justification. That raises the question how they can be held. There are only two ways this kind of false belief can actually be called a belief. It is possible by being inaccessible to doubt, or else refusing doubt altogether or being dogmatic. It seems undisputed that a belief inaccessible to doubt is "covertly entered." On this theory, then, humorous errors are typically very small, and can often be described as accidental. But the authors appear to have confused committed belief with belief inaccessible to doubt. Besides that implied idea of inaccessibility, they offer no explanation of what committed belief is.
The covert entry thesis, (that only covertly entered belief is funny), is false, and it follows by modus tollens that the overall theory is false. A conscious false belief may not be funny when corrected. But if it is not funny, the reason is that it is not selfish or entirely unjustified. And conscious beliefs have those properties. Any irrational belief can be conscious, though deliberations cannot enter covertly. This book has thus completely overlooked or denied irrationality as a source of error, a kind of error which falls within humor. That is a fatal flaw for the theory, surely, but it is also ironic coming from an author who is a famous critic of religious belief. How is it that Dan Dennett, who regards religion as irrational and comical, here forgets that description and reduces humor to blind and insignificant errors, only a small aspect of something much larger? Along with the theory itself, also destroyed is the authors' attempt to bring into humor beliefs of an indifferent quality, rather than those that are more motivated or require more thought to correct. That brings us to the next problem.
It is true that a punch line may correct a number of beliefs. Yet in this book, beliefs are selected which are beside the point. And it treats belief revision as a mere fact, whereas the humor in mistakes is based on the desire that something be true (or the fear of it). The type of joke being studied involves an ambiguous phrase or word. In some cases, the authors of Inside Jokes miss that ambiguity entirely. This book is mediocre in the explanation of jokes. Other claims of the book are wrong, including that the original source of humor is discovery rather than error, and the notion that humor could be needed as a force driving evolution of perception and thought, or be a byproduct of such evolution. It could not be necessary as such a force; therefore it cannot be such a reward or byproduct.
While this theory focuses on unimportant beliefs in jokes, in the case of any kind of error it is wrong about what exactly humor is. So even if it were to find the right false belief, it would be unable to explain the humor.
Imagine a human or other animal who covertly assumes that it has encountered a large stone (such as in crossing a river), thus without assuming explicitly. But the stone turns out to be a dangerous predator. Probably, if the individual had thought about what this thing really is and then chose wrongly, the discovery would not be funny. But this is not merely because the belief was not covertly entered. Humor would be lacking because non-covert entry allowed consideration of the contrary possibility -- that the stone might be a living predator. The false belief would not be a hasty assumption, and if it is an assumption at all, it is a fair judgment. The covert entry theory, then, is false. Many consciously held false beliefs are funny even from the first-person point of view, when corrected. The vast majority of covertly entered beliefs, when corrected, are not funny, all things being equal. Note how ineffectively the authors respond to these same objections (p. 199-200).
In the joke about a patient and hospital administrator, the humor does not require any covertness in the beliefs, "the nurse is talking to the patient" or even "the doctor is competent." Now there certainly is something funny about the sudden discovery that the doctor is incompetent and dangerous. But that discovery itself is not the Inside Jokes interpretation. The authors have chosen the topic of who is being spoken to, while they also mean to focus on the discovery that the doctor is unsafe. They do not notice a double meaning.
Inside Jokes claims that there is humor in the discovery that occurs in the punch line. But the humor is not in the discovery itself as a revelation of the very fact stated (that is, who was speaking to whom). The humor is in the now disclosed double meaning of what the nurse had said. At the conference Of Mind and Mirth at Colby College, Dennett insisted that his interpretation of the joke was the right one. The amount of humor in Dennett's interpretation of this joke, as of any other joke, is absolutely 0.
And if we consciously assume that "the nurse was talking to the patient," the joke does not die. The humor remains, and the same is true of many other examples in the book. It does not seem important whether the false belief is "the nurse is not talking to the surgeon," which seems like an arbitrary attribution anyway.
(63) Do you mind telling me why you ran away from the operating room?" the hospital administrator asked the patient. "Because the nurse said, `Don't be afraid! An appendectomy is quite simple.'" "So..." "So?" exclaimed the man, "She was talking to the surgeon!" (Hurley, 168)
The book's commentary is this: We and the administrator make the same mistake, but it is our mistake that creates the humor: we infer--without noticing--from the content of the patient's speech act, that the nurse was talking to the patient. (We tacitly go back and insert "to me" after "the nurse said," but only because of the content that follows....) (Hurley, 168)
The idea that the doctor is incompetent or dangerous is not quite enough for a joke. That is why we have the phrase, "An appendectomy is quite simple." No belief about who is addressed matters, when this phrase can be treated as ambiguous. It is revealed that "X is simple" can mean "It is easy to perform this operation," and also, a meaning that fits no better or worse, "it is safe to receive this operation."
This book does not explain why an ambiguity is funny, such as in puns. It claims without good evidence that through all past belief revisions we have evolved a reward which can be identified as the experience of humor or amusement. That thesis requires that we take all errors, trivial or not, as having equal humorous potential, which they do not have. The authors write as though we did not often recognize puns at first glance, which is counterintuitive.