Why Authoritarians Like Trump Are So Afraid of Humor

When Puerto Rican superstar Bad Bunny hosted the season premiere of “Saturday Night Live,” he used the opportunity to tweak critics who are upset about his upcoming Super Bowl Halftime performance—delivering remarks in Spanish and then telling listeners they have four months to learn what he just said.

Martin Luther King Jr. once described violence as the language of the unheard. Bad Bunny took the opportunity to respond to his detractors in another powerful language of the unheard: satirical humor.

Although humor can seem trivial to some, we should not underestimate its power to shift cultural agendas. Contempt toward elites in the form of satirical mockery can be cathartic and a demonstration of solidarity for those of lower status. Humorists can have a deep impact on the public imagination.

Shifting public imagination is one reason repressive leaders fear comedic critique.

Satirical humor is one of the remaining glimmers of hope we have left in the fight against authoritarian rhetoric.

“Satire is the sharpest instrument of free speech," Russian comedian Viktor Shenderovich said in a recent interview with Politico magazine. “And the first thing all dictators do is crack down on freedom of speech.”

Shenderovich, now living in exile in Poland, was the force behind the satirical puppet show Kukly, which Russian President Vladimir Putin successfully pressured networks to cancel once he became president. The show poked fun at political leaders, like Putin, using unflattering puppets.

President Donald Trump is also known to oppose negative coverage, often trying to suppress it through lawsuits. We witnessed the suspension of Jimmy Kimmel and the cancellation of Stephen Colbert. Trump has also publicly pressured networks to fire Jimmy Fallon and Seth Myers.

The satirist plays an important role in political society. When leaders veer toward authoritarian rhetoric, the satirist must go to work to make sure our public language does not get swallowed by the party line. In short, satire helps preserve the language of critique itself.

The sharpness of satire that Shenderovich alludes to can be effective for cutting through the fog of fear and confusion that accompanies authoritarian rhetoric.

As a humor scholar, it does not surprise me that Trump’s thin-skinned reactions to critique would target comedians. Satirical humor, in particular, has historically functioned like a disinfecting light.

Executive orders and irresponsible speech, such as baseless claims about Haitians eating neighborhood pets, may remain relatively unaffected in the public imagination despite pushback on CNN, "Meet the Press," or "Face the Nation." But the sting of satirical laughter is difficult to ignore. This is probably why people like Kimmel, Fallon, and Colbert get under his skin.

Perhaps even more frustrating to authoritarian figures is the way humor can undermine attempts to break their political enemies’ spirit by providing hope. Consider an example from a particularly dark point in history. Viktor Frankl described humor as a weapon in the fight for self-preservation in his powerful memoir, Man’s Search for Meaning.

He writes, “It is well known that humor, more than anything else in the human make-up, can afford an aloofness and an ability to rise above any situation, even if only for a few seconds.”

The context for Frankl’s statement is the concentration camp. For him, humor was a lifeline that helped people hang onto their humanity in the midst of inhumane treatment by their Nazi captors.

Trump’s rhetoric is, without question, intended to strike fear into the hearts of his political enemies. The vagueness of his language is also a way of widening the scope to include anyone who disagrees with him. Think of his threat to have Attorney General Pam Bondi go after a journalist for hate speech.

Satirical humor at its best is a powerful force for disrupting authoritarian rhetoric. Satire shows no reverence for the kind of linguistic authoritarianism on display in attempts to expunge the nation’s parks and museums of racial memory or define anti-fascism as domestic terrorism. Rather, it disregards the social niceties we associate with social interaction and explores the logic behind our meaning choices.

Admittedly, satire’s irreverence can sometimes be uncomfortable, even offensive. Ignoring social niceties can mean pulling back the veil on hidden embarrassments. However, this may be the only route to a clarifying vision. I echo the words of writer and literary critic Ralph Ellison: “For by allowing us to laugh at that which is normally unlaughable, comedy provides an otherwise unavailable clarification of vision that calms the clammy trembling which ensues whenever we pierce the veil of conventions that guard us from the basic absurdity of the human condition.”

Satirical humor is one of the remaining glimmers of hope we have left in the fight against authoritarian rhetoric. Long live its sting.