Setting the Stage
If you couldn’t tell from my fixation with government and it’s roles, I’m very fascinated with the idea of social contracts. Naturally, I’m used to examining this topic from a customary angle (read – political philosophy). However, I also enjoy the less well-known iterations of social contracts, both where they are being instituted (classrooms, RPGs) and where they’re breaking down (capitalism).
Well, last weekend I encountered an unexpected example of a social contract: the comedy club.
Take a second and consider the deal we make when we go to a show. When you go to a show, you throw your name into an unfortunate raffle – the comic now has license to mercilessly insult you, even if there’s nothing especially funny about you. In fact, when I go to a show, I’m kind of disappointed if the comedian doesn’t use someone in the front few rows as improv fodder for a few minutes.
This relationship in itself is hardly exceptional – it’s pretty much the dynamic between friends and spouses in every sitcom. What makes this a peculiar social contract is that the relationship is completely unilateral! The comic is encouraged to mock us but, if you throw it back, you’re the asshole that needs to shut up, sit down, and let the man with the mic do his job. And we pay to be in this lottery! Technically, we’re the customer.
The Punchline
I could go on about the peculiarities of this dynamic for a while, but what struck me is that this train of thought led me to understand an important aspect of social contracts: it’s all about the purpose of the union.
In the case of the comedy club, the purpose of the union is to laugh; if one of the marks has to take a hit, then it’s an acceptable loss. What’s amazing is that, as long as we laugh, we all accept this unvoiced dynamic. Even if you’re the one being made fun of you laugh, because that’s the point.
An even stranger variation of this provides some more evidence. When the comedian isn’t even good – when he’s just awkward and drowning – we still laugh. Granted, it’s a different laugh, but we still do our part. As long as the comedian is giving us something to work with, we’ll do our best to make up the difference.
When you think about it, the only time the social contract breaks down is when one of the parties isn’t trying at all. That’s when revolutions happen (in this case, heckling and walkouts).
The Point
So what? So what if injustices can be borne as long as the purpose of the contract is being upheld? (What, what? Really?)
But what if the purpose of your union (say, America) is unclear? What then? Then you get your Andy Kaufman moments (going along with the comedian analogy); neither side is moving toward the same goal and, ultimately, both give up on each other. And, when the social contract breaks down, anarchy reigns. And anarchy, in my opinion, is ultimately best-defined as fighting for only our individual wants and needs.
Self-evident?
Where are we? Are we starting to give up? Are we willing to forfeit something for the good of the contract, or are we just looking out for personal best interests?
Obama was exciting (wow, was that really only a year ago?) because we saw unity. There was a glimmer of a renaissance of the American social contract.
Are we losing steam? Have we forgotten that a social contract, by definition, requires sacrifice? And who wants that?