As a veteran of two hip surgeries in as many years, I’ve been spending a lot of time stitching when I’m not doing physical therapy. Though the work takes concentration, I like to have company while I’m doing it—mostly the company of podcasts. My go-to pod is “The Rest is History.” Hosted by classicist Tom Holland and contemporary historian Dominic Sandbrook, its episodes cover an encyclopedic range of topics from the origins of Islam to the reign of Peter the Great to the assassination of Abraham Lincoln to the true story of Wojtek the bear, a corporal in World War II. Whatever the topic, Holland and Sandbrook never take themselves or their subjects too seriously. When I listen, I’m laughing as much as I’m learning.
In one episode, Tom Holland invited historian Gillian Kenny to talk about the culture of medieval Ireland. At that time, according to Kenny, poets had a prestige only bested by kings. As she explains, “One of the powers of a poet was the power of satire. You could actually rhyme someone to death.” The victim would break out in plague-like rashes and perish. Words mattered, and still matter in Ireland.
However, beyond the River Liffey, words took a big demotion, especially in can-do cultures like our own. We have been conditioned to believe that ‘actions speak louder than words.’ And our children are raised to tell bullies: ‘sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.’ But of course they do.
Words have, and have had, consequences since they were first spoken. Heretics burned at the stake for professing unsanctioned beliefs knew that words have dire costs. Contemporary heretics, a.k.a., whistle blowers and special counsels, are more likely to be sued into oblivion than slain. Yet, overtly totalitarian regimes still jail and kill their opponents. Remember Vladimir Putin’s nemesis Alexei Navalny? The same goes for journalists in countries where there is no freedom of the press. Remember the dismembered Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi? Even in countries that boast a free press, we see some of its ranks exiled from press conferences on the grounds that they write “fake news.” Though, so far, asking awkward questions isn’t a death sentence in D.C.
Instead, the fatalities are the words themselves. The list of words removed from the U.S. government’s websites is extensive and often confusing. For an administration attuned to the stock market, banning ‘equity’ seems especially odd, as does the inclusion of ‘sex’ in light of certain court cases and files. Banning ‘equitable,’ ‘racial,’ and ‘injustice’ from the federal vocabulary seems more in keeping with current standards (and lack thereof). Clearly words have come to be seen as dangerous as sticks and stones. And it’s precisely when you’re on the defense that words seem to lose their vital force.
Language can seem futile when trying to protect yourself or others. This is especially true today when the algorithms of social media insure that hate gets more hits. However, there is a form of speech that is a worthy defender. Its weapon is absurdity, which brings me back to satire.
Humor has historically been the preferred tactic of the weak in speaking truth to power. At roughly the time Irish poets were fending off enemies with rhymes, medieval monks were getting their revenge in the margins of the manuscripts they were copying. To relieve their boredom (and poke fun at their betters), they inserted their own small drawings in the borders of the hand-lettered pages. Sacral texts were undermined by monkeys wearing bishops’ miters, rabbits hunting people, and dogs wearing crowns. As far as I know no one was excommunicated for these transgressions; and since these bits of graffiti have survived, I suspect they were overlooked or even tolerated. No doubt, life in the so-called Dark Ages needed humor.
In dark times (whenever they occur) humor, especially satire, thrives. There’s just so much material. Stephen Colbert might have an expiration date of June 2026 but jokes won’t be cancelled. We will need them because, as he says: “You can’t laugh and be afraid at the same time.” So far South Park—which like the monks’ marginalia deploys pictures and words—seems to be surviving even though its parodies are closer to being an echo chamber of the vulgarities it’s based on.
It’s when those in power tell jokes about those whose lives and livelihoods are in their hands (or budgets) that the cruel side of humor comes out. Making fun of people with disabilities was apparently just the beginning. The ‘bully pulpit’ used to be a metaphor, now it’s a literal description. But ignoring bullies isn’t an option. Silence is complicity.
Admittedly, South Park’s creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone and wisecracking late night television hosts may be ineffectual against Executive Orders. They don’t have the ancient poets’ lethal powers. But I’m guessing that they’re responsible for more than one case of Presidential hives. And they make me laugh.
Assaying 