First things first, let’s all admit farts are hilarious. Agreed? Then let’s move on.
Why are farts funny? is a question I ask myself at least once a day. Sometimes more depending on what I’ve eaten.
Up to now I’ve assumed farts being funny is just one of those things we as humans are supposed to accept, like when dropped pens disappear into non-existence and Piers Morgan goes another week uncastrated. But I’ve been reading a book that may have an answer.
The Denial of Death (1973) by Earnest Becker discusses the psychological and philosophical implications of how people and cultures have reacted to the concept of death. (Yes. I copied and pasted that from Wikipedia. Get over yourself. Nerd.) The book won Becker the Pulitzer prize posthumously after his untimely death (isn’t all death untimely?) of colon cancer in 1974. In respect of the great man and what he achieved, I will now bastardise everything he ever did in a slapdash, likely misinterpreted couple-sentence-summary of his entire life’s work.
Becker builds on the works of psychologists and psychoanalysts like Sigmund Freud and Otto Rank, who suggest all humans struggle with two conflicting belief systems. The first: that we are like all animals, at the behest of our physical form and destined to one day die. And the other: that our consciousness is above that of nature, that humans are special beings whose ideas and personalities contribute to a larger universal effort that exists beyond the death of our physical form. The latter of these beliefs, Becker believes, is what allows humans to live their lives without the constant crippling fear of death; a necessary narcissism.
For evidence of these conflicting ideas, it is best to look at children, who are forced to confront both during their development. Young children are especially bound to their bodies and functions (hunger, thirst, bladder control etc) whilst being simultaneously exposed to sophisticated human traits and ideas like right and wrong. Becker’s example of this is in the child's initial distress and eventual obsession with pooping. Surrounded by the complexities of human consciousness and existence, pooping suddenly brings children crashing back to the harsh reality of nature: being bound to their bodies and their natural processes.
This is where I started to think about farts. (Again.)
Could it be that farts are a sudden, explosive, often putrid subconscious reminder of the terrifying reality that we, bound to our bodies, will one day die? And when faced with this mortal prospect, do we not have to laugh, for genuinely considering what it actually means is too horrific to bear?
Or maybe it’s just a funny noise! PRRRPPP! Haha! Farting! Comedy!
I want to stress the degree to which I’ve over simplified and likely misread or incorrectly reinstated Becker’s ideas. I strongly suggest you just go read it instead of expecting me to perfectly summarise his work in an online blog about farts. Who the fuck do you think I am? Who the fuck are you?
Comments