Keeping your epistemological toolkit up to date is vitally important, but amongst the meticulous intellectual minutiae, a pearl of wisdom from over half a century ago is frequently forgotten. Thankfully, there’s a song to help you remember it: in 1968 Joan Ganz Cooney and Lloyd Morrisett had a goal to create a television program to help young children, particularly those in deprived areas, prepare for school.
That program was Sesame Street and, on the very first episode, the kindergarten crop was invited to investigate the complex phenomenon of dissimilarity with the bona fide earworm “One of these things is not like the others”.
Considering the near ubiquitous nature of Sesame Street in the public consciousness, it’s disappointing that some of the simple lessons easily learned by children are forgotten by adults when discussing matters of concern. This may be deliberate in some cases, but not always, I suspect.
So, to facilitate a recap, let’s look for some divergent properties in the ongoing discourse around so-called ‘cancel culture’ and/or ‘consequence culture’ in comedy. Particularly relevant at the time of writing as Joe Rogan has taken a break from platforming pseudoscientists and conspiracy theorists on his podcast to release yet another comedy special on Netflix, where he reminds us how controversial he is and how many times he has been cancelled.
Mans-laughter
Can you imagine a comedian today getting away with jokes about domestic violence, race, sexual assault, the Holocaust, 9/11, the LGBTQ community, and a host of other taboos? Surely not possible in the current climate, yet Anthony Jeselnik not only exists, but his career continues to go from strength to strength. Later this year he will bring his comedic marmite to the UK, performing in 3,000-capacity theatres rather than the low-budget comedy clubs you might expect to be hosting someone so far over the line of political correctness.
There has been some controversy around some of his content, but in general there are no calls for a boycott, even though there’s a significant portion of his most recent special for Netflix dedicated to his proficiency in dropping babies. Despite all this, no noticeable pitchforks or flaming torches outside his shows. So, why is this one not like the others?
The answer is simple: it’s intention.
Jeselnik’s entire schtick is that he’s the bad guy. His villainy is so pronounced and absurd that it’s beyond pantomime, and his audience is clearly aware of that. Even the casual observer who happens upon his material can easily spot the fact that his jokes are so far past the boundaries of good taste that it has to be an act.
Brent out of shape
So, shouldn’t this apply to all comedians? Well, no. One of these things is not like the others.
Joe Rogan is only one of many out there lashing out at those who are crying foul at their content: let’s consider the current self-proclaimed Christ in the crucifixion crosshairs of cancel culture, Ricky Gervais.
Over the years he has built up his stand-up comedy reputation as a dropper of truth bombs, ridiculing the absurd, and taking those who (supposedly) deserve it down a peg or two. His ruthless assassinations of those around him in the film and television industry during the Golden Globes is viewed by many as a righteous skewering of powerful and successful people, and by others as somewhat mean spirited. Either way, he’s referring to real-life people, many of whom have made real-life mistakes.
There’s occasionally exaggeration, some level of artistic licence, but a significant part of the impact his comedy makes is because he appears to actually mean what he says.
The approach that a comedian takes to their content will therefore have an effect on the type of audience they may attract but, more importantly, on the beliefs and sentiments of those people. People walking out of an Anthony Jeselnik show will, for the most part, be saying “That was so wrong!”, whereas Gervais’ audience might be saying “That was so right!”. The latter would almost certainly bring some of that baggage home with them, and absorb it into their worldview.
Target audience
The principle of influencing people, hopefully for the better, or speaking truth to power using comedy isn’t a new one. As someone who grew up in the 80s and 90s I feasted on politically motivated comedy from the likes of Ben Elton, Mark Thomas, and television programs such as Spitting Image, doing their best to highlight the harms done to the UK (and beyond) under the Prime Ministerial reign of Margaret Thatcher.
In more recent times we’ve seen the likes of Ricky Gervais target organised religion, and Dave Chappelle being a constant thorn in the side of American white supremacy. Those are seen as fair targets, so it’s particularly disappointing that both Gervais and Chappelle have recently turned their attention to much more marginalised demographics. Once again, one of these things is not like the others.
Gervais goes a little way to show his commitment to environmentalism by recycling the seemingly perpetual “I identify as [object]” attempted joke in his latest special. Credit where credit’s due though, he at least tries to approach it from a slightly different angle, unlike Joe Rogan who haplessly hammers his way through some of the most brainless stereotypes about trans people with all the subtlety of, and a fair amount of physical similarity to, Ram Man from Masters of the Universe.
Gervais isn’t just satisfied with transphobia though, as he takes some time to have a pop at refugees as well. While making keen observations to the howling crowd about why those risking their lives to get to the UK are majority male, he conveniently fails to elucidate on some of the heartbreaking reasons that this is the case.
This is commonly known as punching down instead of punching up, a phrase that was misconstrued badly by Jimmy Carr in an interview with Conan O’Brien, where his response to such accusations was “So you think there’s people below me?”. Carr is intelligent enough to be aware of the existence of metaphors, and he leans much more in the direction of the Jeselnik camp than the Gervais camp in terms of how seriously he takes his own jokes, so his misinterpretation and deflection seems strange, particularly considering he’d already spoken about the relevance of intent earlier in the interview.
To make it clear, when someone says “punching down”, it usually means that the butt of the joke may be the target of some form of vilification or discrimination in much more serious ways. It’s disappointing to have to spell it out, but at least we have Sesame Street to help with our spelling.
Harm offensive
In his latest special for Netflix, Gervais takes a pop at his detractors. “You can’t say that!” he says in a whiny voice, mimicking those who have complained about his content. He then turns to look at his audience, returns to his regular voice and coldly proclaims “I just did”. The crowd goes wild. Rapturous applause and cheers ring out through the massive auditorium. No laughter, but that’s not important right now. The shared glowing warmth of imagined righteousness is all that matters here.
This straw manning of valid criticisms of content is commonplace. Frequently you will hear comedians, or their fans, claiming that the baying mob is describing their content as “offensive”, and then going on to (sometimes correctly) say that the right to offend is an important part of any society that values free speech. Right enough, some people do use the word “offensive”, but not all. It gives the comedians in question justification enough to dismiss all the criticism coming in their direction, but one of these things is not like the others.
What is seemingly ignored is that many of the complaints come from people who are saying that the content is harmful rather than offensive. It could be both, of course, but it’s the harmful nature of some of the rhetoric that deserves attention.
It’s no secret that there’s an overtly hateful and dehumanising attitude towards immigrants and refugees in a disturbingly large percentage of the UK’s population. Look no further than Reform UK’s brazen “Stop the boats” rhetoric for evidence of that sentiment.
So, when Ricky Gervais takes an ignorant potshot at refugees, he’s not just being offensive, he’s fanning the flames of intolerance. Of course, maybe he could really just be joking, and being misunderstood by some of the less pleasant members of our society, in a similar way to Alf Garnett or Al Murray’s Pub Landlord character. It seems strange that no one has asked him about this during interviews.
Gag reflex
This brings us on to the final defence of the ‘offensive’ comedian: the timeless classic, “It’s just a joke”.
Joe Rogan is quite the master of this art, setting himself up as the comedy goofball as he compares gay men to mountain lions, and reminds his audience that they shouldn’t be getting their medical information from him, forgetting that it’s frequently the people he invites on to his podcast and allows to spout misinformation that people are listening to (one of these things isn’t like the other, Joe!).
The best way to wave off any criticism without any kind of introspection is just to remind people you’re a comedian and you shouldn’t be taken seriously, except when you should.
YouTube comments are awash with people, presumably in a more advanced age bracket, complaining that people can’t take a joke anymore like they could in the ‘good old days’, and if you don’t like it then you should just move along. Let’s kick the tyres of that argument with some examples. See if you can spot which one of these things is not like the others:
Joke 1:
I recently commented on the choice of actors to appear in a movie about ancient Iran.
- Cast as Persians?
No, I was very complimentary.
Joke 2:
What's the best dressed geometrical shape? - Apparellelogram.
Joke 3:
I've heard that the former Minister of State for Brexit Opportunities is now focusing his attention on rural air pollution.
- That awful country smog?
Yeah, that's him.
All three jokes are forms of torturous wordplay penned by me (yes, I’m an absolute joy to follow on social media), but the last of them alludes to a left-leaning political stance, and it has a specific human ‘target’. So, it’s pretty easy to see that a joke might not just be a joke. Those who are subjected to the joke may be influenced by it and may make a judgment on the values and ideals of the teller of the joke because of it.
The teller of any joke should consider this carefully, particularly if they have a massive global audience. For a beautiful illustration of this, check out Stewart Lee’s dismantling of the ‘classic’ lineup of Top Gear.
Can sell culture
So, we can see that comedy is always a complex landscape. Many performers skate the lines of good taste, and push boundaries. Some have a confusing mixture of good and bad intentions and it’s hard to tease them apart at times.
In terms of audiences, every individual has their own boundaries in terms of what they find palatable, both in terms of content, character, values, and the personal behaviour of the performer in question (Louis CK comes to mind particularly, in terms of conduct). They will vote with their feet accordingly. In certain circumstances they may be compelled to encourage other people to do the same, and at the extreme they may ask the same of venues and streaming platforms. They have the freedom to do so.
It seems though that those who consistently draw negative attention for various reasons somehow manage to continue with their careers. Rogan, Gervais and Chappelle continue to release specials on massive streaming platforms and play to massive audiences wherever they travel. Louis CK bafflingly still has a career.
Scroll your way through the stand-up comedy of any streaming platform and you’ll see a plethora of people with provocative show titles to illustrate just how much they’ve been cancelled, or how offensive they are. Some appear to thrive on the controversy. There may of course be some cases out there where a career has been fatally harmed by the so-called joke police, but as we have seen again and again, one of these things is not like the others.
