The Dark Side of Humor – Part 1

I love humor. Growing up with four brothers who similarly absorbed our dad’s oft-bizarre yet relatable sense of humor, jokes and laughter were never far off in our household. I embraced my strange wit, employing it profusely in thought, word, and deed as regularly as respiration.

I’ve always marveled at the unassuming power of humor. It is easily regarded as a sort of luxury—fun, but with sparse practical applicability—but I think that’s a gross underestimation of its utility. Humor has a way of bringing together otherwise distant people—it transcends cultural, language, gender, age, and socioeconomic barriers (not an exhaustive list). An accidental public passing of gas is a universal invitation to grin and chuckle (as evidenced by many a YouTube prank video).

Sharing a bit of laughter can create and strengthen relational bonds, enhance one’s physical and emotional health, and re-establish connection when feelings have been hurt.

Okay, here comes the arc.

Deny, Deny, Deny

As much as I’d love to keep trodding along through life subscribed to a definition of humor that consists exclusively of benevolence, it’s not feasible any more. Unfortunately, I’ve employed humor for selfish and destructive reasons, and more often than I’d prefer to admit.

Let’s Make a Joke Instead

One way I’ve poorly used humor is as a means to avoid disclosing sensitive information. If I’m hiding something, and you ask me a question that is a hit on my battleship, I’m going to distract you until I can relocate that ship. Instead of honestly answering your question (which would likely incriminate me), I pop a joke, using humor both as a shield to protect me in the moment, and, ideally, to throw you off the scent of my trail of deceit.

This seems like a win-win situation. You are put at ease by the joke itself, which I hope has given you enough good vibes to forget why you even suspected I might be doing something bad in the first place. We both feel good, at least superficially, in the warm rays of funshine (fun + sunshine). Furthermore, I get a kickback for making you laugh—I feel safer for dodging your interrogation, and I also get affirmation for my comedic wizardry.

In the short-term, this tactic avoids a potential conflict as I have obscured something about me that would probably upset you. But it really is a lose-lose situation. I might make a joke to parry a frontal assault that would reveal a hidden behavior of mine. I might also make that joke because I am afraid of being rejected for who I am. Your question could be a bid for connection—a desire to know more about me, personally. This scares me. The more I reveal about my genuine self, the higher likelihood you’ll reject me. If I believe my true self to be repugnant, I’m going to do all in my power to conceal it.

If your question is pressing against one of my closed doors, the alarms are going off inside my head, and it’s time to reinforce and lock it down. Nice try. The last time I showed someone that room, I was ridiculed, which only confirmed to me what I already believed: at my core, I am unacceptable.

Light the Fuel

Circling back around, I’ve historically used humor as a means of gaslighting others, namely my wife. Outfitted with unparalleled intuition and piercing insight, I met my match with her in the height of my acting out. She might suspect I was becoming a bit too friendly with a female classmate or co-worker, and then ask a perfectly reasonable question about my interactions with her. Responding with a joke instead of reflecting on the inquiry and responding truthfully is the conversational equivalent of saying, “Does it sound like me to do something like (have poor boundaries)?”

With a joke, I’d try to escape being found out (I knew I was having poor boundaries with women) by inspiring my wife to doubt her own perception. She would have a gut feeling I was behaving improperly, and then I would undermine any credence to her line of thinking. The optimal outcome I sought was her blind trust, and my secrets to go on existing unperturbed.

Gaslighting really deserves its own post (and maybe I’ll write one some time) because of its inherently destructive and torment-inducing nature. In present day, my wife can recall the gut feeling of something being “off” and the disorientation that ensued when I used humor to dismiss her suspicions. She can remember, agonizingly clearly, the dissonance between her inner ick and the jovial atmosphere I created. I made it seem like she ought to be laughing, like she’s being so very silly and outlandish, insinuating I might be teasing disloyalty. Yet, she was being weighed down by an unshakeable fear and inner anguish. Then, after all my lies and deceit was finally revealed, her world was violently turned upside down again. Her intuition was right all along, and I was bold enough to offer flippant comedic misdirection time and time again to protect my secret life. It would be a process for her to begin trusting her own intuition again. Gaslighting is no joke.

Buckle up—this manipulative method is only one of the ways I’ve maliciously and irresponsibly used humor.

Flip the Script

Speaking of altering someone else’s perception, here’s one tactic that looks like humility but could actually be prideful attention-seeking: self-deprecation.

It’s frustrating because self-deprecation can be so very funny. It’s also conniving. Laced with a sprinkling of safe self-disclosure, it makes the other person get a false sense of power over me. Like, “ooh, I’ve got dirt on you now!” The thing is that I willingly handed over my ace. With such a nice gesture, I’ve actually inverted the natural outcome.

I don’t want to pretend like I fully understand the mechanism here, but I do know self-deprecation can be highly manipulative. Instead of you lording over me the “dirt” I gave you, you somehow feel compassion and are uncomfortable that someone so selfless would believe he is ugly or dumb or worthless (whatever the self-deprecating joke is meant to imply about me). Now, you decide to use your “higher ground” to lift me up, elevating me to your position (or higher even). I’ve conjured up the idea in your mind that I’m the victim, forcing your hand to combat my self-deprecation with a compliment or otherwise positive remark.

Ultimately, then, self-deprecating is a means to evoke soothing attention from another person. Really, it’s “fishing for compliments,” as they say. It’s an unhealthy attempt to receive some sort of positive attention to fill my deficit.

Scar Chasm

I’ve heard it said that sarcasm is anger veiled in humor. I’d add that sarcasm can be infused with pretension and a lack of healthy assertiveness. This one is a tough pill to swallow.

If something or someone has upset me, and I feel like I can’t directly discuss my hurt, I resort to sarcasm. I want to offer a punchy, biting remark that is coated in just enough humor to not be taken as an insult (exactly what it is)…like a chocolate-covered turd.

What appears like a witty retort might actually be a jab that I have completely justified in my mind. You might not have even done or said anything to put me down. If I feel intimidated or otherwise less-than, sarcasm is like a trusty revolver I have always at the ready to defend myself.

When I fail to acknowledge my hurt and process it accordingly, my pain is prone to leak out sideways. Maybe I’ve stuffed my pain for years and years, resulting in a non-focal bitterness and cynicism. Now, sarcasm is a means to dribble out my inner cesspool of victimhood and rage in a way that is more palatable than emotional outbursts.

Time Out

Well, once again, I thought I could contain a topic to a single post. And once again, it is running long (even now, I’m bordering on self-deprecation). I’m going to loosely tie this up now, and finish up next week. Stay tuned.