We have a vision of what Greek wine-drinking parties were like among the lively philosophers and playwrights of the era in Plato's Symposium. That vision has been so pleasing to generations of academics that it has become synonymous with an academic gathering to discuss any topic in detail; certainly the philosophy conferences I attended usually (though not universally) included a celebratory visit to a drinking establishment at some point. This is another chapter of the EN that compares and contrasts nicely with the Havamal, which also discusses the dangers of drinking parties and of drink generally.
Since life includes rest as well as activity, and in this is included leisure and amusement, there seems here also to be a kind of intercourse which is tasteful; there is such a thing as saying- and again listening to- what one should and as one should. The kind of people one is speaking or listening to will also make a difference.
We turn, however, specifically to the sort of joking that is most virtuous, as well as to the defects.
Evidently here also there is both an excess and a deficiency as compared with the mean. Those who carry humour to excess are thought to be vulgar buffoons, striving after humour at all costs, and aiming rather at raising a laugh than at saying what is becoming and at avoiding pain to the object of their fun; while those who can neither make a joke themselves nor put up with those who do are thought to be boorish and unpolished. But those who joke in a tasteful way are called ready-witted, which implies a sort of readiness to turn this way and that; for such sallies are thought to be movements of the character, and as bodies are discriminated by their movements, so too are characters. The ridiculous side of things is not far to seek, however, and most people delight more than they should in amusement and in jesting, and so even buffoons are called ready-witted because they are found attractive; but that they differ from the ready-witted man, and to no small extent, is clear from what has been said.
Aristotle doesn't give the impression that jesting was especially dangerous, which it has been in many times and places. Many a duel has begun over a jest over wine, or ale, or mead, or whiskey, and all these thousands of years. That this is not one of his concerns here is remarkable.
Past the jump break, we get a judgment that is of potential contemporary relevance.
Nevertheless, he does turn from proper jesting to tact.
To the middle state belongs also tact; it is the mark of a tactful man to say and listen to such things as befit a good and well-bred man; for there are some things that it befits such a man to say and to hear by way of jest, and the well-bred man's jesting differs from that of a vulgar man, and the joking of an educated man from that of an uneducated. One may see this even from the old and the new comedies; to the authors of the former indecency of language was amusing, to those of the latter innuendo is more so; and these differ in no small degree in respect of propriety.
There is a warning that the good man does not jest abusively, but it seems concerned with manners rather than the prospect of violence. It is similar to our own cultural resistance to telling jokes that will offend on the basis of sex or race; it is not that the jokes themselves are improper, but that one has to be sure of one's audience and its appreciation for such humor. If it will make a listener feel uncomfortable, and therefore exclude them from the jesting, it is not the mark of the best sort of man to make a joke that will be received as abuse.
Aristotle's remarks suggest that at least joking about such sensitive topics was not illegal, demonstrating a respect for freedom of speech at least in matters of humor that might seem surprising in the ancient world. He also states definitely that the best sort will not make those jokes anyway, 'being a law to himself.'
Now should we define the man who jokes well by his saying what is not unbecoming to a well-bred man, or by his not giving pain, or even giving delight, to the hearer? Or is the latter definition, at any rate, itself indefinite, since different things are hateful or pleasant to different people? The kind of jokes he will listen to will be the same; for the kind he can put up with are also the kind he seems to make. There are, then, jokes he will not make; for the jest is a sort of abuse, and there are things that lawgivers forbid us to abuse; and they should, perhaps, have forbidden us even to make a jest of such. The refined and well-bred man, therefore, will be as we have described, being as it were a law to himself.
Such, then, is the man who observes the mean, whether he be called tactful or ready-witted. The buffoon, on the other hand, is the slave of his sense of humour, and spares neither himself nor others if he can raise a laugh, and says things none of which a man of refinement would say, and to some of which he would not even listen. The boor, again, is useless for such social intercourse; for he contributes nothing and finds fault with everything. But relaxation and amusement are thought to be a necessary element in life.
The boor is the closest thing we have to the problem of inviting the woke to your parties today. We notice that the well mannered are already trying not to be offensive in their jokes; the person then trying to find ways of accusing them of being regardless is guilty of an excess of the quality that, at the right balancing point, was tact. Going beyond that to try to police the speech of others, who are already trying to be tactful, is a violation of the necessity of relaxation and amusement.
The means in life that have been described, then, are three in number, and are all concerned with an interchange of words and deeds of some kind. They differ, however, in that one is concerned with truth; and the other two with pleasantness. Of those concerned with pleasure, one is displayed in jests, the other in the general social intercourse of life.
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