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Laughter and learning

The upside of looking on the lighter side of life.

Jos Houben

Photograph: Alain de Chamberataud

For the past few years, I've been traveling the globe with a show called "The Art Of Laughter," a mock lecture in which I analyze the basic principles of silent comedy. I try to make people laugh using my body rather than my words. At a certain point in the show, I demonstrate tripping. Some people laugh at the trip itself. More people laugh when I play with my reaction, looking back over my shoulder at the spot where I stumbled. But without fail, everyone explodes into laughter when I add a third movement: I trip, look over my shoulder, then furtively look around to see if anyone has noticed my misfortune. At that moment, the whole audience is in agreement. They recognize and accept a truth about themselves, something they somehow already knew and also freshly discovered in that moment. Through laughter, people acknowledge together that they're not alone.

Many serious thinkers have been busy with the supposedly not-serious phenomena of humor and laughter in their attempts to understand the human condition. The philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein stated that a valid philosophical work could be written on any subject that would consist entirely of jokes. Wittgenstein knew, as comedians do, that humor is a way to understand not only ourselves but the world.

I, for example, am the proud father of a 4-month-old boy. It strikes me how adults who meet him actively solicit this smile. It's as if we seek confirmation that we're unconditionally loved. We want the fact that we're here to be acknowledged, not just by a person but by humanity. An infant's smile is the universe's seal of approval. "Being" goes with "laughing" from the start.

My son's learning is also deeply connected to laughter. I observe him as he alternates between quiet fascination and chuckles whenever he's paying attention to something. What makes sense, what's accepted, produces a smile; anything else is immediately rejected. He moans and cries not just when he's uncomfortable or in need, but when he's bored.

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