Bizcuits: Living dangerously

Leanda Lee

The lecturer must have said something but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Perhaps it had been flippant, perhaps in jest, perhaps that particular student – from another place, another culture, another ethnicity and religion, values – merely misheard. The student filed a complaint with the management of the educational institution: “That professor is vulgar. She told the class not to teach her how to wear her underwear.” Perhaps she’d implored her students not to get their “nickers in a knot” over something: goodness knows.
Humour, and particularly satire, doesn’t always translate well.  From the mundane to the absurd and then the tragic, such as this week’s Charlie Hebdo shootings, response to humorous expression will not always be as expected. What one finds funny, another finds offensive. It is funny precisely because it is dangerous. As a dog bares its fangs to warn off threats, and a monkey displays the fear grin in an act of submission, our smile has evolved. A smile indicates pleasure and amusement but also acknowledges an inherent danger: whilst the cause can bring positive emotions and wellbeing, it can also bring negative affect and harm. Therein lies the danger. After all, there are elements of truth in every joke.
Humour causes us to laugh, releasing endorphins and thus makes us feel good. In 2001 LaughLab went on a search for the world’s funniest joke and in the process found what makes a good joke work. They make us feel superior, can reduce anxiety in tense situations, they surprise us and are often on sensitive topics.
The first and last elements are the most dangerous. Should I value something dearly, especially if there is risk of loss or attack or if I believe disrespect to be intended, I will not be too pleased to have it made the butt of a joke. The complaining international student whose family sacrificed much to send him thousands of miles away may have expected education to be undertaken with sobriety and a post-graduate classroom no place for a little frivolity. He is in a new setting where being respectful and enjoying life’s experiences may not necessarily be mutually exclusive. He will eventually learn about our values.
This week we are reminded by the Charlie Hebdo incident that religious and cultural values can generate outrage and extreme response when beliefs are deemed to be under attack. But humour and satire engage the public, and humour and freedom of expression are our values; we are not always able to teach or convince others of these. We however stand fast to and uphold those values and in doing so risk attack in many guises.
Speaking out poses dangers – we have evidence and have been warned of this even here in Macau. Public writing and commentary will attract both support and detractors but we are shocked, and rightly so, when although we believe that we live in a society safe from undue harm should we decide to speak our minds, state opinions and report our research, it turns out to be otherwise.
PS. The LaughLab study found that the animal thought to be the funniest in jokes is the duck – all hail Les Canards.