Is tragedy ever funny?
The answer to that question may seem pretty obvious. In fact, a person’s reaction may even be visceral. “Of course not,” they may cry indignantly. “Suffering of any kind is never funny, no matter the circumstances.”
But is immediate denial an honest evaluation of society’s real relationship with entertainment or is it only wishful thinking?
Humankind has long had an affinity for joking about disaster. Comics have been pressing these buttons for centuries, individuals making use of satire as a tool to become the provocateurs that create a greater global consciousness for everything from the characteristics of “real art” to the plights of oppressed minorities.
No, joking at the expense of others is not new. People have always loved to laugh, even when they shouldn’t — maybe even especially so. They laugh at the tragic things, the terrible things — the grotesque, insensitive and horrific things — because it’s the only way that ordinary citizens can fathom extraordinary misfortune.
Is this wrong?
Perhaps. The ethics of comedy are something to discuss another day, and are bogged down in a balancing act between being respectful and being provocative.
But on another level, engaging with this sort of content on a comedic plane is arguably better than not engaging with it at all — which seems to be the most likely alternative.
In an era where the average individual touts disenchantment with political discourse of any kind like a badge of honor, making someone laugh may be the only way in which they voluntarily interact with, and reflect upon, vital and contentious issues. Media like this may aim to entertain, but in the process it also does what’s really important — it informs.
Of course, no one’s arguing that comedy is the gold standard of responsible news. Certainly most comedic engagement isn’t up to par with serious, contemplative reflection, at least, not in terms of generating sensitive and thoughtful ideas and solutions to the serious problems that face this country and the world at large.
But then again, it rarely claims to be. The nature of jokes and those who tell them is to be self-depreciating; they know, and embrace, their brusque and evocative attitude towards the issues that make most people flinch. Comics and satirists typically accept that their material is often insensitive and may only offer superficial and skewed analysis — the way that a careful and considered news report, hopefully, does not. They are not offended that they are not the “pinnacle” of newscasting, nor do they seem to deny the truth in such an analysis.
But that doesn’t diminish the value of their work.
When a person laughs, a person also thinks — perhaps, the next time, in a more sympathetic and insightful manner. They are engaged, and educated, without feeling suffocated by the often overwhelming sense of sympathy and expectation that comes with traditional reporting. They can care without feeling like it’s exhausting to do so — and that’s important too.
Comedy is by no means a faultless medium of expression. But, particularly now, it is an increasingly important one.
So, perhaps tragedy isn’t funny, at least, not in our idealistic picture of how the world should be. But jokes are important, because without them, a population already disillusioned with an increasingly combative and negative state of affairs would know even less.
Perhaps tragedy is never truly funny. But it is important to joke about.