Animated Louis CK Shows Demonstrates How “Animation Lets You Do Anything”

Father­hood is a fer­tile sub­ject for come­di­an Louis C.K.

Kids do say the darnedest things, but Louis’ obser­va­tions reveal the depth of his invest­ment.

He lit out after stan­dard­ized test­ing and the Com­mon Core on Twit­ter.

He made a pas­sion­ate case against giv­ing kids smart­phones to Conan O’Brien.

Is it any won­der that the “dumb­er, fun­nier” ver­sion of him­self he cre­at­ed for his TV show is pre­oc­cu­pied and often thwart­ed by his respon­si­bil­i­ties as the sin­gle dad of two young daugh­ters?

(Real life may pro­vide inspi­ra­tion, but the writer and star dis­plays appro­pri­ate bound­aries when he says that his actu­al daugh­ters are marked­ly dif­fer­ent char­ac­ters than their TV coun­ter­parts.)

But the knife of father­hood cuts both ways. Louis’ trou­bled rela­tion­ship with his own dad gets less atten­tion than the father-daugh­ter bond, but it’s there in his work. The prospect of spend­ing time with his estranged father caus­es the fic­tion­al Louis to vom­it at the din­ner table in sea­son three.

The ani­mat­ed approach seen above, gives Louis more con­trol over the sit­u­a­tion. Ani­ma­tion, like read­ing, makes pos­si­ble flights of fan­cy where­in children—including grown ones like Louis—can do “absolute­ly any­thing.” Fly­ing and using a rain­bow as a slide are among the fan­tas­ti­cal activ­i­ties the 2‑D Louis sam­ples. Mean­while, the qual­i­ty of his nar­ra­tion con­veys an under­ly­ing dis­taste for the sort of canned “imag­i­na­tive” sug­ges­tions foist­ed on chil­dren by well-mean­ing edu­ca­tion­al pro­gram­mers.

Left to their own devices, most kids will come up with sce­nar­ios and pow­ers far weird­er than any­thing ped­dled to them by an adult. Why “swim through the ocean like a fish” when you can anthro­po­mor­phize your elder­ly father as a malev­o­lent spi­der, lodged in your chest, poop­ing out reg­u­lar lit­tle “infes­ta­tions of hate”?

Ani­ma­tion lets you go all the way, and C.K. cer­tain­ly does, lop­ping off heads, and (SPOILER!) inad­ver­tent­ly Bon­nie and Clyd­ing him­self from with­in.

Someone’s made a lot of progress since the 90’s, when he used his time on Dr. Katz’s ani­mat­ed couch to dis­cuss K‑Mart and Chips Ahoy.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

The Sur­re­al Short Films of Louis C.K., 1993–1999

Sein­feld, Louis C.K., Chris Rock, and Ricky Ger­vais Dis­sect the Craft of Com­e­dy (NSFW)

20-Year-Old Louis CK Per­forms Stand Up (1987)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, home­school­er, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Eastern Philosophy Explained with Three Animated Videos by Alain de Botton’s School of Life

“Among the founders of reli­gions,” writes Walpo­la Rahu­la in his book What the Bud­dha Taught, “the Buddha…was the only teacher who did not claim to be oth­er than a human being, pure and sim­ple. […] He attrib­uted all his real­iza­tion, attain­ment and achieve­ments to human endeav­or and human intel­li­gence.” Rahula’s inter­pre­ta­tion of Bud­dhism is only one of a great many, of course. In some tra­di­tions, the Bud­dha is mirac­u­lous and more or less divine. But this quote sums up why the gen­er­al­ly non-the­is­tic sys­tem of East­ern thought is often called a psy­chol­o­gy or phi­los­o­phy rather than a reli­gion. With the video above, Alain de Botton—whose School of Life has recent­ly brought us a sur­vey of West­ern philoso­phers—begins his intro­duc­tion to East­ern thought with Bud­dhism. The Buddha’s sto­ry, de Bot­ton says, “is a sto­ry about con­fronting suf­fer­ing.”

Born the son of a wealthy Indi­an king and des­tined for great­ness by a prophecy—or so the sto­ry goes—Siddhartha Gau­ta­ma, the future Bud­dha, dis­cov­ered human suf­fer­ing dur­ing brief excur­sions from his palace. Appalled and dis­turbed by sick­ness, aging, and death, the Bud­dha left his lux­u­ri­ous life (and his wife and son) and prac­ticed many rit­u­als and aus­ter­i­ties before find­ing his own path to enlight­en­ment and Nirvana—the extin­guish­ing of desire.

One fruit of his real­iza­tion is the doc­trine of “the Mid­dle Way,” a medi­a­tion between extremes that one source com­pares to Aristotle’s gold­en mean, “where­by ‘every virtue is a mean between two extremes, each of which is a vice.’” The Buddha’s enlight­ened under­stand­ing of the essen­tial con­ti­nu­ity of life gave him com­pas­sion for all liv­ing beings; of the thou­sands of sutras, or say­ings, attrib­uted to him, his teach­ing can be con­cise­ly summed up in what he called “the Four Noble Truths,” the acknowl­edge­ment, cause, and rem­e­dy of inevitable pain and dis­con­tent.

Most of what de Bot­ton does in his intro­duc­tion to the Bud­dha will be famil­iar to any­one who has tak­en a com­par­a­tive reli­gions class. But true to his task of approach­ing Bud­dhism philo­soph­i­cal­ly, he avoids Bud­dhist meta­physics, cos­mol­o­gy, and ques­tions of rebirth, instead inter­pret­ing the Buddha’s teach­ings as a kind of East­ern Aris­totelian ethics: “We must change our out­look (not our cir­cum­stances). We are unhap­py not because we don’t have enough mon­ey, love, or sta­tus, but because we’re greedy, vain, and inse­cure. By reori­ent­ing our minds we can become con­tent. By reori­ent­ing our behav­ior, and adopt­ing what we now term a ‘mind­ful’ atti­tude, we can also become bet­ter peo­ple.”

While Bud­dhist schol­ars and sages would argue that enlight­en­ment entails a great deal more than self-improve­ment, the sum­ma­tion suits the pur­pos­es of de Botton’s School of Life—to help peo­ple “live wise­ly and well.” These videos—like his oth­ers, ani­mat­ed by Mad Adam films with Mon­ty Pythonesque whimsy—distill East­ern thought into fun, bite-sized nuggets. Just above, we have a short intro­duc­tion to the Chi­nese sage Lao Tzu, pur­port­ed author of the Tao Te Ching, the found­ing text of Dao­ism. Where­as de Bot­ton seems to take the Buddha’s sto­ry more or less for grant­ed, he admits above that Lao Tzu may well be a myth­i­cal char­ac­ter, “like Homer,” and that the Tao is like­ly the work “of many authors over time.”

Dao­ism is often inter­twined with Bud­dhism and Con­fu­cian­ism, but its own par­tic­u­lar phi­los­o­phy is dis­tinct from either tra­di­tion. At the heart of Dao­ism is wu wei, which trans­lates to “non-action” or “non-doing,” a mode of being that seeks har­mo­ny with the rhythms of nature and a ceas­ing of pre­oc­cu­pa­tion and ambi­tion. Anoth­er “key point” of Lao Tzu’s instruc­tions for real­iz­ing the “Tao,” or “the way,” is get­ting “in touch with our real selves,” some­thing we can only accom­plish through recep­tiv­i­ty to nature—our own and that out­side us—and through free­dom from dis­trac­tion, a most dif­fi­cult demand for tech­nol­o­gy-obsessed 21st cen­tu­ry peo­ple.

The third video in de Botton’s series sur­veys a Japan­ese Zen Bud­dhist sage and con­trasts him with West­ern philoso­phers, who gen­er­al­ly write long, obscure books and clois­ter them­selves in lec­ture halls and offices. In the Zen tra­di­tion, de Bot­ton says, “philoso­phers write poems, rake grav­el, go on pil­grim­ages, prac­tice archery, write apho­risms on scrolls, chant, and in the case of one of the very great­est Zen thinkers, Sen no Rikyu, teach peo­ple how to drink tea in con­sol­ing and ther­a­peu­tic ways.” Born in 1522 near Osa­ka, Rikyu reformed and refined the chanoyu, the Japan­ese tea cer­e­mo­ny, into a rig­or­ous but ele­gant med­i­ta­tive prac­tice. Rikyu coined the term wabi-sabi, a com­pound of words for “sat­is­fac­tion with sim­plic­i­ty and aus­ter­i­ty” and “appre­ci­a­tion for the imper­fect.” Wabi-sabi offers not only the foun­da­tion for a way of life, but also for a way of design and archi­tec­ture, and its prac­tice informs a great deal of tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese aes­thet­ics.

Like Lao Tzu, Rikyu intend­ed his prac­tices to help peo­ple recon­nect with the sim­plic­i­ty and har­mo­ny of nature, as well as with each oth­er, inspir­ing mutu­al respect free of sta­tus-con­scious­ness and com­pe­ti­tion. Rikyu’s wabi-sabi phi­los­o­phy is premised on Zen’s under­stand­ing of the imper­ma­nence, imper­fec­tion, and incom­plete­ness of every­thing. There­fore he eschewed the trap­pings of lux­u­ry and pre­ferred worn and hum­ble objects in his cer­e­mo­ni­al instruc­tions. Whether we call Rikyu’s prac­tices reli­gious or philo­soph­i­cal seems to make lit­tle dif­fer­ence. In the case of the three thinkers pro­filed here, the dis­tinc­tion may be mean­ing­less and intro­duce West­ern con­cep­tu­al divi­sions that only obscure the mean­ing of Bud­dhism, Dao­ism, and Japan­ese Zen. When it comes to the lat­ter, anoth­er West­ern inter­preter, Alan Watts, once deliv­ered an excel­lent talk called “The Reli­gion of No Reli­gion” that helps to explain prac­tices like Rikyu’s chanoyu.

All of the videos here are part of the School of Life’s “Cur­ricu­lum.” Vis­it de Botton’s Youtube chan­nel for more, and for short videos offer­ing advice on every­thing from anx­i­ety to rela­tion­ships to “the dan­gers of the inter­net.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Alain de Botton’s School of Life Presents Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tions to Hei­deg­ger, The Sto­ics & Epi­cu­rus

What Are Lit­er­a­ture, Phi­los­o­phy & His­to­ry For? Alain de Bot­ton Explains with Mon­ty Python-Style Videos

A Guide to Hap­pi­ness: Alain de Bot­ton Shows How Six Great Philoso­phers Can Change Your Life

Alain de Bot­ton Shows How Art Can Answer Life’s Big Ques­tions in Art as Ther­a­py

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Muhammad Ali Gives a Dramatic Reading of His Poem on the Attica Prison Uprising

In July of 1972, box­er Muham­mad Ali trav­eled to Dublin to fight Alvin ‘Blue’ Lewis, an ex-con from Detroit. In the days lead­ing up to the bout, he amused him­self by bust­ing on Fight of the Cen­tu­ry vic­tor Smokin’ Joe Fra­zier from afar, refer­ring to him on live tele­vi­sion as a “tramp” and a “slave” who lived on a “chick­en plan­ta­tion.”

It was a career defin­ing encounter for inter­view­er Cathal O’Shan­non, who praised Ali’s deft­ness in that area and not­ed that the champ said things “he would not have been able to say in Amer­i­ca.”

It’s doubt­ful that O’Shannon was refer­ring to the name call­ing, part of Ali’s cam­paign to draw Fra­zier back into the ring. (The champ got his wish less than two years lat­er, when he defeat­ed Fra­zier at Madi­son Square Gar­den in the sec­ond of their three fights.)

What’s more like­ly is that O’Shannon was allud­ing to the orig­i­nal poem Ali recites from mem­o­ry, one minute into clip above, after ori­ent­ing Irish view­ers to the pre­vi­ous fall’s Atti­ca Prison upris­ing, still the dead­liest in U.S. his­to­ry.

Ali imag­ines him­self in the shoes of a black pris­on­er, respond­ing to the white war­den issu­ing a final ulti­ma­tum. His reply, which could be tak­en as a call to arms , but which Ali touch­ing­ly calls a “poet­ic poem,” takes the form of a dozen ter­cets:

Bet­ter far from all I see

To die fight­ing to be free

What more fit­ting end could be?

Bet­ter sure­ly than in some bed

Where in bro­ken health I’m led

Lin­ger­ing until I’m dead

Bet­ter than with prayers and pleas

Or in the clutch of some dis­ease

Wast­ing slow­ly  by degrees

Bet­ter than of heart attack 

Or some dose of drug I lack 

Let me die by being Black 

Bet­ter far that I should go 

Stand­ing here against the foe 

Is the sweet­er death to know 

Bet­ter than the bloody stain 

On some high­way where I’m lain 

Torn by fly­ing glass and pane 

Bet­ter call­ing death to come

Than to die anoth­er dumb

Mut­ed vic­tim in the slum

Bet­ter than of this prison rot

If there’s any choice I’ve got

Kill me here on the spot

Bet­ter far my fight to wage

Now while my blood boils with rage

Lest it cool with ancient age

Bet­ter vow­ing for us to die

Than to Uncle Tom and try

Mak­ing peace just to live a lie

Bet­ter now that I say my sooth

I’m gonna die demand­ing truth

While I’m still akin to youth

Bet­ter now than lat­er on

Now that fear of death is gone

Nev­er mind anoth­er dawn.

The poem draws to a close with an inex­pert but heart­felt sound effect.

The poet — whose mater­nal great-grand­fa­ther was born in Coun­ty Clare — went on to knock out his oppo­nent in the 11th round.

The trail­er for the doc­u­men­tary, When Ali Came to Ire­land, fea­tur­ing Cathal O’Shan­non, is below.

More poet­ry read­ings can be found in our col­lec­tion of Free Audio Books.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Muham­mad Ali Plans to Fight on Mars in Lost 1966 Inter­view

Mal­colm X, Debat­ing at Oxford, Quotes Shakespeare’s Ham­let (1964)

Mail­er on the Ali-Fore­man Clas­sic

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, home­school­er, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Lynda Barry’s Wonderfully Illustrated Syllabus & Homework Assignments from Her UW-Madison Class, “The Unthinkable Mind”

Lynda Barry Syllabus

Our rev­er­ence for car­toon­ist Lyn­da Bar­ry, aka Pro­fes­sor Chew­bac­ca, aka The Near Sight­ed Mon­key is no secret. We hope some­day to expe­ri­ence the plea­sure of her live teach­ings. ’Til then, we creep on her Tum­blr page, fol­low­ing with home­work assign­ments, writ­ing exer­cis­es and les­son plans intend­ed for stu­dents who take her class, “The Unthink­able Mind,” at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Wis­con­sin.

And now, those course mate­ri­als have been col­lect­ed as Syl­labus: Notes from an Acci­den­tal Pro­fes­sor, an old fash­ioned, tan­gi­ble book. It’s like a paper MOOC!

(Yes, we know, MOOCs are free. This will be too, if you add it to your hol­i­day wish list, or insist that your local library orders a copy.)

Barry 2

Barry’s march­ing orders are always to be exe­cut­ed on paper, even when they have been retrieved on smart­phones, tablets, and a vari­ety of oth­er screens. They are the antithe­sis of dry. A less acci­den­tal pro­fes­sor might have dis­pensed with the doo­dle encrust­ed, lined yel­low legal paper, after pri­vate­ly out­lin­ing her game plan. Barry’s choice to pre­serve and share the method behind her mad­ness is a gift to stu­dents, and to her­self.

barry homework

As Hillary L. Chute notes in Graph­ic Women: Life Nar­ra­tive and Con­tem­po­rary Comics:

 The decon­tex­tu­al­iza­tion of cheap, com­mon, or util­i­tar­i­an paper (which also harkens back to the his­tor­i­cal avant-garde) may be under­stood as a trans­val­u­a­tion of the idea of work­ing on “waste” –a know­ing, iron­ic acknowl­edg­ment on Barry’s part that her life nar­ra­tive, itself per­haps con­sid­ered insignif­i­cant, is visu­al­ized in an acces­si­ble pop­u­lar medi­um, comics, that is still large­ly viewed as “garbage.”

Work­ing on “garbage” must come as a relief for some­one like Bar­ry, who has talked about grow­ing up under a hos­tile moth­er who saw her daughter’s cre­ative impuls­es as a “waste” of paper:

I got screamed at a lot for using up paper. The only blank paper in the house was hers, and if she found out I touched it she’d go crazy. I some­times stole paper from school and even that made her mad. I think it’s why I hoard paper to this day. I have so much blank paper every­where, in every draw­er, on every shelf, and still when I need a sheet I look in the garbage first. I ago­nize over using a “good” sheet of paper for any­thing. I have good draw­ing paper I’ve been drag­ging around for twen­ty years because I’m not good enough to use it yet. Yes, I know this is insane.

Sam­ple assign­ments from “The Unthink­able Mind” are above and below, and you will find many more in Syl­labus: Notes from an Acci­den­tal Pro­fes­sor. Let us know if Pro­fes­sor Chew­bac­ca’s neu­ro­log­i­cal assump­tions are cor­rect. Does draw­ing and writ­ing by hand release the mon­sters from the id and squelch the inter­nal edi­tor who is the ene­my of art?

Barry 1

Barry 3

Barry 4

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Join Car­toon­ist Lyn­da Bar­ry for a Uni­ver­si­ty-Lev­el Course on Doo­dling and Neu­ro­science

Car­toon­ist Lyn­da Bar­ry Reveals the Best Way to Mem­o­rize Poet­ry

Lyn­da Bar­ry, Car­toon­ist Turned Pro­fes­sor, Gives Her Old Fash­ioned Take on the Future of Edu­ca­tion

1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, home­school­er, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Man Hauls a Piano Up a Mountain in Thailand and Plays Beethoven for Injured Elephants

If we’ve fea­tured Jazz for Cows on Open Cul­ture, then why not Clas­si­cal Music for Ele­phants? Actu­al­ly, they’re not just any ele­phants fea­tured above. They’re old, injured, hand­i­capped, some­times blind ele­phants who live in the moun­tains of Thai­land. And the gen­tle­man play­ing a slow move­ment from Beethoven’s “Pathé­tique Sonata” is Paul Bar­ton. On his Youtube chan­nel, Bar­ton men­tions that he hauled his piano into the moun­tains, to Ele­phantstay — a refuge for the ani­mals. And, emphat­i­cal­ly, he tells us that the piano’s keys are made of plas­tic, not of ivory, see­ing that the trade of ivory has caused ele­phants so much mis­ery.


Bar­ton has a playlist of 23 videos of ele­phants and his piano play­ing, the most viral of which was anoth­er clip where Bar­ton plays a 12 bar blues on the piano with Peter the Ele­phant. Peter’s par­tic­i­pa­tion was entire­ly impromp­tu and com­plete­ly of his own accord. You can see a pho­to gallery of Paul and the ele­phants here, and catch a radio inter­view with him here.

via Twist­ed Sifter

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Maya Angelou Tells Studs Terkel How She Learned to Count Cards & Hustle in a New Animated Video

Blank on Blank returns with anoth­er one of their visu­al­ly-dis­tinc­tive ani­mat­ed videos. This one lets us time trav­el back to 1970 when Studs Terkel, the great Amer­i­can author, his­to­ri­an, and radio broad­cast­er, sat down with acclaimed poet Maya Angelou. The inter­view took place short­ly after Angelou pub­lished her 1969 auto­bi­og­ra­phy, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, and the con­ver­sa­tion turns, amus­ing­ly, to her child­hood years, when she learned how to hus­tle and count cards from her step father, Dad­dy Clidell. I bet Bukows­ki is applaud­ing wher­ev­er he is. Blank on Blank made this video in part­ner­ship with the Studs Terkel Radio Archive, which we fea­tured on our site late last year.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Maya Angelou Reads “Still I Rise” and “On the Pulse of the Morn­ing”

Studs Terkel Inter­views Bob Dylan, Shel Sil­ver­stein, Maya Angelou & More in New Audio Trove

Blank on Blank Ani­ma­tions Revive Lost Inter­views with David Fos­ter Wal­lace, Jim Mor­ri­son & Dave Brubeck

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Woman Takes LSD in 1956: “I’ve Never Seen Such Infinite Beauty in All My Life,” “I Wish I Could Talk in Technicolor”

A decade before tens of thou­sands turned on, tuned in, and dropped out at the Human Be-In in Gold­en Gate Park, psy­chi­a­trist Sid­ney Cohen was inves­ti­gat­ing the effects of LSD on human con­scious­ness. If his vol­un­tary sub­jects at LA’s Vet­er­an’s Admin­is­tra­tion Hos­pi­tal found them­selves sud­den­ly able to “see the music” a la Lizard Queen Lisa Simp­son, they did so in a very respectable-seem­ing, mid-1950s set­ting.

Wit­ness this ses­sion with the polite young wife of a hos­pi­tal employ­ee, above. She’s a bit ner­vous, but not because of any media-fueled pre­con­cep­tions regard­ing the trip she’s about to take. It was 1956, and anoth­er of Dr. Cohen’s guinea pigs, pub­lish­er Hen­ry Luce, had yet to regale the pub­lic with some of acid’s more col­or­ful prop­er­ties via mul­ti­ple arti­cles in both Time and Life mag­a­zines.

As such, our uniden­ti­fied par­tic­i­pant is as pure as the glass of water she’s served at the one minute mark. Pur­er, actu­al­ly, giv­en that the drink has been dosed with 1/10th of a mil­ligram Lyser­gic acid diethy­lamide.

Three hours fur­ther along, she’s trip­ping her brains out, still seat­ed demure­ly in the same chair in which her intake inter­view was con­duct­ed. Had it been filmed 20 years lat­er, her rev­e­la­tions would seem trite, but the con­text ren­ders them endear­ing. If she’s bummed out about any­thing, it’s that the nice doc­tor ques­tion­ing her about her mind blow­ing jour­ney isn’t able to see the mol­e­cules too.

I’d love to know what became of her.

Cohen con­tin­ued observ­ing LSD, with sub­jects as cel­e­brat­ed as writer Aldous Hux­ley, philoso­pher Ger­ald Heard and Bill Wil­son, co-founder of Alco­holics Anony­mous. He pub­lished his find­ings in The Beyond With­in: the LSD Sto­ry. His ulti­mate take­away was that ”beat­nik micro­cul­ture”  destroyed LSD’s chances for achiev­ing its poten­tial as a psy­chother­a­py tool.

This may be why we nev­er hear him urg­ing his sub­ject to check out the drapes, which is sure­ly what sev­er­al young men of my acquain­tance would have resort­ed to, back in the day.

David Lynch-style aus­ter­i­ty of the set­ting aside, per­haps such coach­ing was unnec­es­sary. What­ev­er this woman’s brain had her see­ing, it made her want to “talk in tech­ni­col­or.”

May I sug­gest that we’re just as delu­sion­al if we assume that some­one who could be described as a 1950s “house­wife” must have inhab­it­ed  a world we can only per­ceive in black-and-white?

via Reason.com

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Artist Draws Nine Por­traits on LSD Dur­ing 1950s Research Exper­i­ment

Watch The Bicy­cle Trip: An Ani­ma­tion of The World’s First LSD Trip in 1943

Ken Kesey’s First LSD Trip Ani­mat­ed

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, home­school­er, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Stephen Fry Explains Humanism in 4 Animated Videos: Happiness, Truth and the Meaning of Life & Death

Answers to life’s big ques­tions don’t come cheap, but they very often come free, or at least we feel they should. Which answers you find com­pelling among your avail­able options is up to you. In the wide­ly plu­ral­ist parts of the world—or at least in their urban centers—the answers come as often in the form of sec­u­lar human­ism as they do in any oth­er vari­ety, and they gen­er­al­ly come with a cer­tain amount of sat­is­fac­tion that it is human­ism, in part, that makes such vari­ety pos­si­ble. So what is human­ism and why is it some­times so proud of itself? You could do much worse than ask Stephen Fry, the genial Eng­lish actor, come­di­an, writer, and pas­sion­ate activist and advo­cate.

Fry nar­rates the video series here, “That’s Human­ism,” for the British Human­ism Asso­ci­a­tion. He begins in “How do we know what is true?” at the top of the post by telling us what human­ism is not. It is not a belief that knowl­edge comes from a super­nat­ur­al source, from rev­e­la­tions, prophet­ic visions, or divine­ly inspired books. While many a human­ist has found poet­ic inspi­ra­tion in such things, as Fry explains, it’s only the sci­en­tif­ic method that pro­vides us with reli­able infor­ma­tion about the nat­ur­al world.

In the video just above, Fry takes an evi­dence-based approach to the ques­tion of ques­tions: what hap­pens when we die. The human­ist answer, as he plain­ly states, seems per­fect­ly obvi­ous to anyone—everyone dies, and every­one can live on in the lives of the peo­ple who’ve loved them. We leave the work we’ve done behind, and our bod­ies return to the ele­ments from which they came. Any­thing else, he sug­gests, is wish­ful think­ing.

The third video con­fronts the ques­tion that runs neck and neck with fear of death as a rea­son peo­ple seem to believe in the super­nat­ur­al. “What makes some­thing right or wrong?” Fry asks, then goes on to con­trast in layman’s terms two moral the­o­ries: divine com­mand and a gen­er­al­ly altru­ist, proso­cial eth­i­cal stance. Not all human­ists sub­scribe to his ethics and not all, as Fry does above, would describe empa­thy as the prime motive of moral choice. He also cites “Rea­son,” “Expe­ri­ence,” and “Respect for Oth­ers” as meth­ods by which human­ists deter­mine right from wrong, and he touch­es super­fi­cial­ly on the role of cul­ture as a con­tain­er of moral­i­ty, though he avoids the many thorny issues implied in that asser­tion.

The fourth video of the series, below, takes on the much more clas­si­cal­ly philo­soph­i­cal ques­tion, “How can I be hap­py?” For Fry, who has can­did­ly dis­cussed his strug­gles with bipo­lar dis­or­der and sui­ci­dal depres­sion, the ques­tion is not a pure­ly abstract one. His answers eschew grand cos­mic nar­ra­tives for the val­ue of the nat­ur­al, the famil­ial, and the observ­able. Through­out the series, Fry remains upbeat and con­fi­dent, but if you think him inno­cent of life’s cru­el­ties, I invite you to read the brief biog­ra­phy in this Guardian arti­cle.

If this seems like evan­ge­lism, per­haps it is. The British Human­ist Asso­ci­a­tion is, after all, the orga­ni­za­tion behind Richard Dawkins’ athe­ist bus cam­paign in Eng­land, which plas­tered signs on “bendy bus­es” around Lon­don say­ing “There’s prob­a­bly no God. Now stop wor­ry­ing and enjoy your life.” But Fry is a much more approach­able, avun­cu­lar face of human­ism than the can­tan­ker­ous, some­times cal­lous, Dawkins (or the con­fronta­tion­al Sam Har­ris). What these videos don’t address are the spe­cif­ic advo­ca­cy goals and pro­grams of the British Human­ist Asso­ci­a­tion, which include such peren­ni­al­ly con­tro­ver­sial sub­jects as assist­ed dying and abor­tion rights. Learn more about the association’s cam­paigns, goals, and out­reach attempts at their web­site.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stephen Fry: What I Wish I Knew When I Was 18

A Guide to Hap­pi­ness: Alain de Bot­ton Shows How Six Great Philoso­phers Can Change Your Life

Shakespeare’s Satir­i­cal Son­net 130, As Read By Stephen Fry

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness.

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