Monty Python and Philosophy (18 page)

For Kant, philosophy boils down to the pursuit of three questions: What can I know? What should I do? And, for what may I hope? These questions, further, come down to just one: What is it to be human? (More exactly, Kant asked
What man is
, but the word ‘man’ is now in disrepute for seeming to exclude large portions of the human race—women, girls, boys, infants, and sissies, just to mention a few.)

It is not hard to see that the closer these questions regarding knowledge, obligation and hope are fused, the more they become aspects of the one simple question we are asking: What does life
mean
? The meaning of life thus becomes a journey toward our most realistic hopes, reflecting what we know we ought to be doing.

But of course this very picture of life, the axial journey, itself turns out to be funny if in fact there is no intended goal to living at all. If there is no true destination to life’s journey, the various elaborate accounts of life’s meaning—and their attendant practices and rituals—look silly. And the Pythons often revel in this silliness, regardless of whether the laughter they provoke is an important cathartic on the way to “real meaning” or simply silliness for silliness’s own silly sake. Nietzsche and Derrida both counsel hearty, healthy laughter. Really enjoy life, it is suggested,
and keep in mind that you don’t need God, a mission, or metaphysics to do this. Maybe what you actually need is to free yourself of these very notions. Maybe only then can you laugh wholeheartedly, without disappointment, false expectations or deluded hope.

We noted above that Python, as part of the counterculture, helped initiate a sort of questioning. But what about today, decades after the counterculture movement? Can the Pythons evoke the same questioning laughter in a much younger generation? Comedy is often disguised philosophical commentary, for it can vividly present the gap between what is, what makes sense, and what ought to be. Most comedic commentary, however, only states the
is
, leaving the rest to imagination. Such commentary pervades the Pythons.

But might the Pythons (along with other of postmodernism’s unwitting forerunners) have accomplished emotionally and in advance a major “postmodern” mission: the user-friendly—and also user-funny—domestication of “the death of God,” that is, the loss of God as a source for the meaning of life? This death could then be comfortably absorbed. And as “God” went down, so, as suggested above, would an inseparable companion and fellow-traveler: the notion of the meaning of life as a journey from here to someplace better.

The Pythons have zanily guided us along this path, across this delightfully shallow water, from the need for deep things to the shallows of neat-because-silly things. It is no secret that the Pythons played especially well to intellectuals. Could this have been because it brought them
down
to earth, but in vocabulary and vignettes that were
up
to their standards? And when the Pythons brought such people to the point where they could not tell up from down, all could laugh. It was laughter stemming from knowing that neither mattered. It was neither here nor there. Was this perhaps because the weight of axial journeying had been lifted?

The Pythons scrambled lots of things—people and situations. Maybe we must simply be humored into enjoying this. Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951) once remarked that those who seemed
to have solved the riddle of life seldom had anything to say regarding what the riddle was. But Wittgenstein did not say that these liberated and “enlightened” ones didn’t laugh. Maybe that is exactly what they did. I’d like to suggest that their laughter was the very solution to that riddle of life they had pursued.

This may come as a bit of a shock. But the fact that the meaning of life is not what it seems does not mean that, for the Pythons, there is no meaning to life. Nor, on the other hand, is there any indication in the Pythons that there is something we might call “the meaning of life.”

I’d suggest that the Pythons help us to glide
through
the seriousness of theological atheism,
past
the mortuary of existential despair, to what some might call eliminative “comedyism.” There is no such word, but since we do need it, we’ll just go ahead and use it.

Eliminative
materialism
is the view from which my analogy is drawn. And it is fairly well known. It simply—well, of course, nothing in the philosophy industry is simple—involves replacing words in your vocabulary that commit you to mind-body dualism, René Descartes’s (1596-1650) old problem, with words that do not. If you are thorough and complete in your switchings and really get the hang of these replacement words, the mind-body problem bothers you much, much less. If you come to forget the words these replacement words replace, you probably can no longer figure out what the mind-body problem actually is, except through some pretty serious scholarship. And you’re going to need a philosophical dictionary.

Eliminative comedyism is much the same, except it is found less in replacement vocabularies than in altered reactions and responses. Is a major dimension of the “real” journey of life from piety to laughter? Thinking about it, neither too long nor “deeply,” what in fact could be meaningless about this? As the Pythons might suggest, such a conception is worth a chuckle or two. And such chuckles might serve as unexpectedly helpful hints regarding life after the meaning of life.

“No score, but there’s certainly no lack of excitement here . . . ”

STEPHEN FAISON

 

 

I
n
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
, King Arthur (Graham Chapman) and his Knights of the Round Table get into all sorts of comic trouble as they search for the sacred article. Why do they seek it? They have been commanded by God. According to the animated God, people have lost the sense of purpose to their lives. Arthur is to search for the Holy Grail and in doing so provide much needed inspiration to others.

On the first leg of their journey Arthur and his knights reach a castle. Arthur announces himself to the guards as “King of the Britons,” and invites their master to join his holy mission. Unfortunately the spokesman for the castle guards (John Cleese) is not British. Even worse, he’s French! The Frenchmen snicker at Arthur’s invitation, and when the King threatens to enter by force in the name of God, they hurl nonsensical insults, then livestock. King Arthur is frustrated because his God, wearing a kingly crown, really did order the quest, and Arthur expects others to be moved by his holy authority. The reaction of Cleese and his mates illustrates how silly the mission seems to those who do not share Arthur’s beliefs. In order to accept Arthur’s claim, they must believe that God would command such a mission and enlist English “pig-dogs” to accomplish it. The Frenchmen are skeptical, to say the least.

Scenes pertaining to religious belief in
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
,
Monty Python’s Life of Brian
, and
Monty Python’s The
Meaning of Life
raise the issue of God’s character, his behavior, and the role he plays in our lives. The need to speculate about God’s relationship with us almost seems unnecessary given the existence of the Holy Bible. The Bible not only contains alleged first-hand accounts of God, but actually features appearances by God Himself. The Christian theory of God establishes the deity through its story of the creation and its aftermath. According to the Christian narrative, a supernatural deity called God, “with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men,”
⁵⁵
created the heavens and the earth and human beings and other less important stuff. These human beings were given dominion over all living creatures. Humans were also given immortal souls and free will to choose good or evil. Of course, we screwed it up. Adam and Eve disobeyed orders, and they and their descendants were punished with mortality and condemned to toil the earth.
⁵⁶
Sometime later God issued a pardon in the form of His son, Jesus Christ, who would take the rap for human disobedience. Human beings could now receive salvation and eternal life in heaven, provided they repent their sins, ask God for mercy, acknowledge Jesus as the savior and live a life of submission to God. Even then they cannot be certain of admission to heaven, but can only hope to be judged worthy.

The Christian account reveals a God who is in all ways perfect, yet displays some suspiciously human characteristics such as jealousy and anger. This presentation seems strange until we consider the possibility that man actually created God in his image. This alternative interpretation would explain why God exhibits these unflattering human traits. Nevertheless, certain Church doctrines are based on this truculent side of the Christian God, producing numerous and sundry thou-shalt-nots and relating the consequences for failing to comply. The Pythons have fun with human adherence to these doctrines and the fear they instill. God is always present, always watching, always judging, and penalties are severe. Arthur was quaking in his shoes at the mere appearance of God; imagine how frightened he must be about what may happen to him if he fails to accomplish his mission. By lampooning reactions to God’s omnipresence in our lives, the Pythons compel us
to examine this relationship. Their gags perform a preliminary function of philosophy by challenging these doctrines, thereby setting the stage for critical analysis of certain assumptions and beliefs.

During this discussion we shall be assisted occasionally by Socrates, the central character in Plato’s dialogues. Though Christianity is a revealed religion, significant aspects of Plato’s philosophy were adapted to Christian theology. There is, however, an important relevant difference. The god Socrates describes in Plato’s most popular dialogue, the
Republic
, is a rather abstract collection of perfect attributes detached from human affairs. The Christian God, on the other hand, represents the characteristics associated with fatherhood, and His human creations are described as His children. The Christian God is a loving provider and protector, but is also the ultimate authority, taskmaster, and disciplinarian. The Christian God is a personal god, intimately involved in the lives of His subjects. Christian doctrine expresses what it considers the proper relationship of God and human. Despite the kinship between Platonism and Christianity, Plato would probably agree with the Pythons that certain Christian doctrines and practices, when accepted and followed uncritically, reflect poorly on us and God.

In
Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life
, a mill worker, played by Michael Palin, sadly announces to his numerous offspring that the mill is closed and there is no work. How will they survive? Palin must sell the children for scientific experiments. “Blame the Catholic Church for not letting me wear one of those little rubber things,” he tells the youngsters. Neither he nor their mother (Terry Jones!) can use contraception if they are to remain Catholic, “part of the fastest growing religion in the world.” He proceeds to explain, in song, what “we believe.”

According to this belief, God takes a keen interest in whether or not people have children. Apparently children are the means through which God replenishes his army. The notion that He becomes “quite irate” whenever sperm is “wasted” implies that God insists that people have children even when they can no longer afford to feed them, and will severely punish those who take measures to avoid conception. The alternatives He permits are to cease having sexual intercourse or be swiftly kicked out of the religion.

As Palin’s children reluctantly trudge to the laboratory, a peering neighbor (Graham Chapman) explains to his wife (Eric Idle!) that “as members of the Protestant Reformed Church, which successfully challenged the autocratic power of the papacy in the mid-sixteenth century, we can wear little rubber devices to prevent issue.” In fact, Chapman continues, Martin Luther “may not have realized the full significance of what he was doing,” but the consequences of his actions are that “four hundred years later, thanks to him, my dear, I can wear whatever I want on my John Thomas.”

So the Protestant Reformation was actually about contraception and personal sexual liberation. “That’s what being a Protestant is all about,” Chapman declares, “That’s why it’s the church for me. That’s why it’s the church for anyone who respects the individual and the individual’s right to decide for him or herself.” Protestants and Catholics, whatever their differences, apparently agree that God is very concerned about whether or not a man wears a condom.