This video highlights, via humorous understatement in a brief narrative, the very different experiences white and black people often have with the police. An otherwise difficult and uncomfortable issue is raised in a non-threatening, playful, yet critical manner.
Any discussion of race and racism in the U.S. recently can be treacherous, so understatement can be a successful, indirect approach. That is what Chappelle might be doing in this short narrative, which likely is not composed of completely true claims (does he even have a white friend named “Chip”?), as Chappelle was not beaten by cops who then framed him by planting drugs on him, as he later suggests in the performance. But it is no less informative nor more deceptive than many other ethical thought experiments in philosophy or political views that make use of appeals to emotions in addition to rational argument.
Many philosophically interesting matters come up immediately with this clip.
Is it acceptable to show in class comedians who have recently been accused of “punching down” on those without social power, such as LGBTQ folks?
In this discussion, we also have an introduction to the notion of “intersectionality” around oppression, and the various power dynamics often involved that make matters much more complex than popular discussions typically allow; Chappelle is in a position of power in relation to black women and LGBTQ folks, but not necessarily in relation to white women or men. These are some of the first issues we wade into before we get to matters of rhetoric and propaganda.
One question students are seemingly inherently interested in is “When is it wrong to laugh?” Not surprisingly, there is a wide spectrum of responses here, and it is extremely important that such discussions do not happen prior to establishing some rapport with students and some degree of communal values accepted by the class. Ideally this is addressed very early in the semester, where the students collaborate on classroom values that they all agree to follow, especially as they are informed that we will be engaged in deep discussions about matters everyone says we should not talk about in public: politics, religion, ethics, and the weather (yes, an odd one, but there’s that climate change matter). These agreed upon values can be as simple as “Argument is not war,” and philosophical critique of one’s position does not entail an attack on one’s essence, character, or identity. Once established, and referenced on a continual basis, questions about what is appropriate to laugh at and what is not, and what does laughter at something many might deem inappropriate entail about the laugher (if anything), can be openly and freely discussed.
“That shit is fucking incredible.”
We can examine the distinction between “expressive” uses of explicit language, in contrast to “aggressive” or “attacking” uses. A case can be made here that Chappelle uses the former to highlight something that should be seen as incongruous, absurd, “incredible,” but so often remains hidden in plain sight due to having been normalized, often through the negative sort of propaganda Jason Stanley (in How Propaganda Works) worries about. Perhaps humor, and art in general, can act as a subversive, even propagandistic (in Du Bois’ positive sense) tool to raise consciousness in a way other more direct modes of resistance simply cannot. This question opens up discussions on the more general use of rhetoric and when it might ever be used in an acceptable fashion. Students are almost always divided here.
The focus of the piece is the debate between W.E.B. Du Bois and Alain Locke on propaganda.
Is it ever acceptable to appeal to emotions, as Chappelle and other socially conscious comedians do, in an effort to persuade?
We wonder whether traditional or straightforward methods of resistance are ever really that effective against the negative propaganda that is so common. At times, the more astute students will make their own connections between propaganda, disinformation, and certain rhetorical tactics (all of which have been covered in prior sessions) used in persuasion. In other cases, I have to ask them whether there are such connections, and if so, does this mean rhetoric or propaganda should never be used. Given the two readings from Du Bois (who supports “positive propaganda”) and Locke (who is against all forms of propaganda), we have the context to address the form of art used in Chappelle’s performances: Is it mere art? Is it subversive art? Is it akin to pure rhetoric of the sort Socrates and Plato worried about? Is it a species of propaganda, and if so, is it acceptable to use in his situation? Are there arguments embedded within the rhetoric/propaganda?
Relatedly, are such comedians really interested in this ethical-epistemological endeavor, or are they simply out for laughs? Usually, students recognize that there is (or can be unearthed) an argument beneath the humorous rhetoric that encourages us to bring to consciousness two sharply divergent experiences (between white and black folks), where Chappelle is displaying a truth. But as Kierkegaard reminds us in his The Concept of Irony, “Irony [and humor] requires strong contrast and would utterly vanish in such boring company as argumentation” (90), so straightforward logic might not always be the ideal mode of presentation even if reason, facts, and justification are on your side. Tough to hear if you teach logic (Kierkegaard’s quotation might be used, but students are not required to read in full nor any part of his dissertation. Such compulsion might amount to a kind of oppression).
Finally, I often find it fun, but potentially somewhat risky, to begin the class in which we cover this issue with an anecdote from my own life. I tell them of a time I was at a barber shop sitting in the big chair when a bottle (plastic and empty) fell onto my head. I was surprised, and the barber apologized profusely, claiming that the workers there had been complaining about the dangers of having the shelves right above the chairs. So, I went to the managers, told them what happened, and, feigning anger, I threatened to sue the shop if no changes were made. It worked. Students are then asked whether what I did was dishonest, immoral, purely rhetorical, or even a kind of propaganda. They are divided on this point, but most seem open to viewing the positive consequences as justification for the trickery (yes, they claim, the ends justified the means). Then I gently, and somewhat apologetically, inform them that such things never actually happened—to me. This was a story of events that purportedly happened to Martha Nussbaum (Anger and Forgiveness 150).[1]
So, perhaps I lied? Or was I merely performing propaganda, and thus revealing a possible truth?
If it was not entirely honest, was it then not acceptable for pedagogical purposes? More fun divisions among students here. In any case, in the end I assure them I will not do such a thing again.
Further Reading:
Du Bois, W.E.B. “Criteria of Negro Art” in The Philosophies of America Reader. Edited by Kim Diaz and Mathew A. Faust. London: Bloomsbury Academic, (2021/1926), 216-221.
Kramer, Chris A. “Dave Chappelle’s Positive Propaganda.” In Dave Chappelle and Philosophy: When Keeping it Wrong Gets Real. Edited by Mark Ralkowski. Chicago: Open Universe, 2021. Pgs. 75-87.
Lakoff, George, and Mark Johnson. Metaphors We Live By. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1980. (focus on chapter 2).
Locke, Alain. “Art or Propaganda?” in The Philosophies of America Reader. Edited by Kim Diaz and Mathew A. Faust. London: Bloomsbury Academic, (2021/1928), 222-224.
Nussbaum, Martha. Anger and Forgiveness: Resentment, Generosity, Justice. New York: Oxford University Press, 2016.
Stanley, Jason. How Propaganda Works. New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2015.
[1] Here is Nussbaum’s description of events that happened to her: “What about a performance of anger? Sometimes, when anger is not a real temptation, a performance achieves good results, particularly in our litigious culture. One Saturday my hair stylist, as I was leaning back with my head in the sink for a wash, reached up for the shampoo, opening an ill-organized cabinet out of which various bottles fell, and one—plastic, luckily—hit me on the brow. I was startled but not really hurt or upset. But I thought it was useful to signal to others the significance of this event, since someone else could be seriously hurt in future (if a heavier bottle had fallen, or it had broken). So I gave a display of polite outrage, adding that they really should install a rack in that cabinet to hold the bottles securely. Yes, the hairdresser replied, we’ve told that to management for weeks. So, I repeated the performance with heightened vigor at the front desk, perceiving that this would help both the employees and the customers, and relying on the usual American fear of a lawsuit. This case seems to me similar to the Utku interpretation of Jesus in the temple: giving the culturally expected performance, in order to produce good results. Let’s give Seneca credit again: the further it is from real anger, the easier it is to control and modulate. The performance achieved the result that anger-as-signal-to-others might have achieved, with more reliability. Even a brief moment of real anger could have inflated itself into an attempt to humiliate those people and make them feel awful. A performance aimed at good social outcomes carries no such risk. Transition-Anger, poised in the middle, is another reasonable response, but it is a little riskier than a mere performance, capable of sliding imperceptibly into real anger” (150).
The Teaching and Learning Video Series is designed to share pedagogical approaches to using humorous video clips for teaching philosophy. Humor, when used appropriately, has empirically been shown to correlate with higher retention rates. If you are interested in contributing to this series, please email the Series Editor, William A. B. Parkhurst at parkhurw@gvsu.edu
Chris Kramer
Chris Kramer is an Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Santa Barbara City College. He wrote his dissertation on “Subversive Humor”, half about humor, half about oppression. Readers will laugh and cry, but mostly cry, and mostly because they are reading a dissertation; what has become of their lives?
