Monty Python and Philosophy (23 page)

Figgis is ordinary in another way, as well. He has colleagues, such as Kevin O’Nassis, whom we meet at the end of the sketch, and Mr. Jenkins. All three wear exactly the same outfit, which we now recognize as nothing less than an idiot uniform. Like many professionals, the idiots also have specializations. For example, Kevin “works largely with walls,” and we see him fall off a wall several times.

The more we learn, the more these idiots seem just like other individuals in a given line of work in their community. They are professional idiots, with institutional and educational support. Figgis, in fact, lectures in idiocy at the University of East Anglia. We see him running around, acting loony, leading a group of “third-year students” around a lawn. Later, we see the students receiving their B.A. degrees, along with a kick in the head, and a handful of dirt on their faces.

By this point, the Pythons have turned Foucault’s portrayal of the mad on its head. In his role as a professor, Figgis himself has power over individuals, as well as over himself. Not unlike the hermits who created their own social network, these madmen are functionally integrated into society and not dominated or controlled by others, as much of Foucault’s analysis suggests.

Differences between what Foucault and the Pythons say about madness narrow when the sketch gives us a brief glimpse into the lives of four
urban
idiots. A voiceover introduces us to the idiots, all of whom are dressed identically in black business suits. Like the village idiots, they have their uniforms—albeit uniforms that are identical to those of the urban businessman. So, in the urban setting, the Pythons seem to tell us, at least on the surface, it is difficult
to differentiate between a “normal” businessman and the urban idiot.

Other differences emerge, however, when these urban idiots speak. Unlike the village idiots, they are not very articulate. Each mumbles about his background before becoming an urban idiot. One says, “Daddy’s a banker. He needed a wastepaper basket.” And, another mumbles, “Father was Home Secretary, and mother won the Derby.” Yet, they too have their professional trappings. The reporter tells us that “The headquarters of these urban idiots is here in St. John’s Wood. Inside, they can enjoy the company of other idiots and watch special performances of ritual idioting.” We see this posh London neighborhood enclosed by a high brick wall, reminiscent of an asylum, within which these idiots variously act idiotically

The Pythons are thus mixing up our preconceptions about madness and idiocy whenever possible. The visibly idiotic are integrated into society, while those that appear to be everyday professionals are confined within a cricket stadium. Things are not as clear cut as in Foucault’s picture of madness, perhaps because the Pythons have turned the question around. Instead of seeking to understand madness by examining how it has been variously excluded, dominated, and medicalized by sane or reasonable society, the Pythons are more interested in the reasonable society and the ways in which madness and idiocy percolate through it. By leading us to see idiocy as something ironic and funny, the Pythons restore that dialogue between reason and unreason that Foucault believes has been lost. Foucault would be happy that, with the Pythons, the mad are accepted as part of society; they speak for themselves; they have agency; and the more we look at them, the more familiar they become.

PATRICK CROSKERY

 

 

W
e all struggle to lead good lives, looking for guidance from a variety of social institutions. For example, many people draw on their religion to help them figure out how to lead an ethical and meaningful life. The members of Monty Python draw humor from the challenges involved in making proper use of the guidance these institutions provide, usually by showing the dismal failure of our efforts. We can explore some of the most influential of these institutions and their relationships to moral theories by taking a tour through the works of Monty Python and examining the themes they discuss.

One social institution that seems to provide guidance is the marketplace. According to the famous image given by the Scottish Enlightenment philosopher Adam Smith (1723-1790) in his 1776 work
The Wealth of Nations
, the marketplace acts as an “invisible hand” that guides people motivated by their own self-interest to make contributions to the greater good of society. On this view, people work primarily to accumulate wealth for themselves; however, in a market setting the only way to gain this wealth is by providing goods and services that others value, resulting in a happier
and more prosperous society overall. This approach suggests that we can lead good lives by vigorously pursuing our own interests in the context of the marketplace. The appeal of this approach can be understood in terms of the moral theory known as
utilitarianism
. As Jeremy Bentham (1748-1832), the eighteenth-century founder of this view explains, the fundamental axiom of utilitarianism is that “it is the greatest happiness of the greatest number that is the measure of right and wrong.” The marketplace, if it can lead people to make contributions to overall happiness as they pursue their own interests, ends up being a good utilitarian moral guide. On the other hand, critics have noted a number of limitations to the marketplace, and these limitations are a popular subject of sketches in
Monty Python’s Flying Circus
.

A merchant banker is perhaps the ultimate market participant, and the Pythons choose this role to explore the mindset that the market promotes. In the “Merchant Banker” sketch (
Monty Python’s Flying Circus
, Episode 30, “Blood, Devastation, Death, War and Horror”) a man enters the merchant banker’s office to request a pound to help the orphan’s home. The merchant banker is quite puzzled—is this a loan? Is he buying a stock? Once the idea of a charitable donation is clarified, he frowns and says, “I don’t want to seem stupid, but it looks to me as though I’m a pound down on the whole deal.” Here we see the first important limitation of the marketplace—there are important social needs which it simply cannot meet. The marketplace can only work when all the participants have something to exchange. To handle the social problems associated with poverty, a utilitarian who wants to promote overall happiness will have to turn to some other institution, whether it be private charity or the government.

Limitations of the marketplace show up even when we have something to trade. There are some interactions that the market does not seem suitable for. This point is brought out vividly in the “Job Hunter” sketch (Episode 24, “How Not to Be Seen”). A man enters an office to apply for a job as an assistant editor. Before he can even get started, however, the interviewer starts bargaining with him for his briefcase and umbrella. The interviewer says, “take a seat” and then says “I see you chose the canvas chair with the aluminum frame. I’ll throw that in. That, and the fiver, for the briefcase and the umbrella.” In frustration the job hunter says that his briefcase and umbrella are not for sale. The interviewer
replies “‘Not for sale’, what does that mean?” We laugh at this scene because we recognize that some interactions cannot be understood as market transactions. Unlike charity, which is logically incompatible with market exchange, these interactions are at least compatible with the market. However, to treat every interaction as a negotiation is to lose important dimensions of human relationships. Some parts of our lives, such as family relations, friendship, and even many of the daily interactions we have with fellow members of our community, cannot be treated in market terms without a loss of value.

Important criticisms of the marketplace have come from Marxist thought, and the Pythons show a serious interest in the critical resources Marxism makes available. They draw particular attention to market ideology—the various ways that the capitalistic system shapes the very beliefs and desires that we form. A particularly ironic illustration is provided in the “Communist Quiz” sketch (Episode 25, “Spam”). We see Karl Marx and a collection of famous Marxist leaders (Mao, Lenin, Castro, and Che Guevara) on a talk show. We assume that it is a standard, BBC-style serious discussion. Instead, the various thinkers are asked sports trivia questions about British football. As in many game shows, the contestants are battling for living-room furniture—a traditional object of bourgeois consumer ambition. The skit draws a sharp contrast between the seriousness of the leaders and the triviality of cultural obsessions with sports and consumer goods. This contrast highlights the way that our desires are shaped by market ideology even as it reveals the sometimes troubling conflict between the market ideology and our non-commercial beliefs and values.

The Marxist theme of alienation is another subject that the Pythons frequently explore. A common theme in the sketches is the longing for a job with greater significance. The head of the Careers Advisory Board says, “I wanted to be a doctor, but there we are, I’m Head of the Careers Advisory Board. Or a sculptor, something artistic, or an engineer, with all those dams, but there we are. . . . I’m the Head of this lousy Board” (Episode 5, “Man’s Crisis of Identity in the Latter Half of the Twentieth Century”). A chartered accountant takes a series of tests that indicate the job he is perfectly suited for is, naturally, chartered accountancy (Episode 10, untitled). But he really wants to be a lion tamer (and he has the hat). Perhaps the best illustration of this theme is
found in the “Homicidal Barber” sketch (Episode 9, “The Ant, an Introduction”). A barber (who is simply pretending to cut his customer’s hair), reports that he did not want to be a barber. He wanted to be something more striking—a lumberjack! He breaks into song, joined by the Mounties. The humor of all of these sketches draws on the fact that a modern, highly specialized economy is extremely efficient, but does not necessarily provide employment that feels meaningful and worthwhile. The capitalistic economy can provide the resources we need to survive, but may fall short of providing the requirements of a fulfilling life.

If we are seeking a fulfilling and meaningful life, a natural institution to turn to is our cultural tradition. We draw on this tradition for role models to emulate, such as a hero contributing to a noble cause. Indeed, the barber who wanted to be lumberjack might just as easily have broken into song to express a desire to become one of King Arthur’s Knights on a quest for the Holy Grail. What goal could be more worthwhile, what life more worth living?

The appeal of this approach can be understood in terms of an alternative approach to morality known as
virtue theory
. The heroic individual is the person who possesses the virtues, which are admirable character traits such as courage, temperance, and wisdom. The hero is a moral individual who lives up to and indeed exemplifies the moral standards of her community. In
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
much of the humor involves the misapplication of heroic virtues.

Sir Robin shows us precisely how to
lack
a virtue. Despite the fact that he is called “Brave Sir Robin,” when faced with danger he runs away. Sir Robin is not brave, but cowardly. A more subtle failure is represented by Sir Lancelot, who, in contrast to Sir Robin, appears to be brave. He charges into situations without fear, swinging his sword. In one particularly dramatic scene, Sir Lancelot dashes into a wedding party, where he hacks and chops away at the guests and guards before storming the tower stairs. Lancelot’s case, however, reveals another limitation. While his
actions (and background theme music) map more clearly onto our sense of the heroic, Lancelot has not displayed bravery either; he is rash. Aristotle (384-322 B.C.E.), perhaps the most influential thinker on the topic of the virtues, argues that most virtues can be placed between two vices in this way; this view is called the doctrine of the mean. Thus, Sir Robin and Sir Lancelot represent the two extremes that allow us to focus on the Aristotelian mean: Sir Robin runs away when it is not appropriate, and Sir Lancelot attacks in an equally inappropriate fashion. The mean that Aristotle describes is not simply a mathematical average. As Aristotle says in Book II, Section 6 of his
Nicomachean Ethics
(W.D. Ross translation), “both fear and confidence . . . may be felt both too much and too little, and in both cases not well; but to feel them at the right times, with reference to the right objects, towards the right people, with the right motive, and in the right way, is what is both intermediate and best, and this is characteristic of virtue.” Sir Lancelot’s invasion of the wedding party starkly demonstrates the importance of having the relevant feeling at the right time and towards the right people.

Sir Galahad the Chaste provides another interesting illustration of failed virtue. Galahad appears to be pursuing the right goal as he follows the image of the Grail into Castle Anthrax. However, Castle Anthrax turns out to be perfectly designed to challenge Galahad’s virtue, chastity. As Zoot, the mistress of the castle, explains: “We are but eight score young blondes and brunettes, all between sixteen and nineteen-and-a-half, cut off in this castle, with no one to protect us. Oooh. It is a lonely life . . . bathing . . . dressing . . . undressing . . . making exciting underwear. . . .” Galahad is about to yield when Lancelot intervenes and drags him away. Galahad, meanwhile, argues that “it’s my duty as a knight to sample as much peril as I can.” Galahad’s virtue has failed because he has been misled by his desires. Aristotle focuses on the importance of judgment in the application of the mean, and it is precisely this judgment that is distorted in Galahad’s case.

It is important, however, that we not confuse judgment with reason or the attempt to reason; good judgment is something more. Sir Bedevere the Wise can help us to understand this point. In a demonstration of unanchored reasoning gone wild, Sir Bedevere assists a group of villagers trying to determine whether
a woman is a witch. He gradually helps them to see that since witches burn because they are made of wood, and wood floats, as do ducks, if the woman weighs the same as a duck, then she must be a witch. Throughout the film we are treated to other instances of Sir Bedevere’s peculiar reasoning. The large wooden rabbit is his idea. After it is successfully wheeled into the French castle, Bedevere sits outside with the other knights and explains how the plan will be completed: “Well, now, Lancelot, Galahad, and I wait until nightfall and then leap out of the rabbit and take the French by surprise, not only by surprise but totally unarmed!” It slowly dawns on him that although the rabbit is in the castle, he and the others are still outside. Bedevere represents an effective illustration of the difference between unanchored reasoning and genuine good judgment. Judgment requires a grasp of the larger context and significance of a choice.