As you may have heard, comedian Daniel Tosh recently caused an uproar when he made rape jokes during a stand-up performance. He has since apologized but the incident has become fodder for discussion about whether rape jokes can ever be funny.
MSNBC’s Melissa Harris-Perry show brought on comedians Lizz Winstead, Elon James White, Jamie Kilstein, and Joy Reid to discuss the incident and the concept of rape jokes more broadly:
Part 1
Part 2
Toward the end of the second segment, Kilstein (who often uses overtly political subjects as a part of his routine) comments that “Comedy is a subversive art. We probably became comedians because we were picked on because we were nerds and you use it as this defense mechanism to take down the bullies, to take down the bigger guy. And suddenly the bullies are invading our nerd-space and they are using our tool instead of doing what they usually do which is being creepy toward women and be better looking than us.” I made a similar observation a few months ago in a commentary about trends in the comedy genre. In that piece I wrote:
Like the horror genre, comedy has a counter cultural disposition. It challenges the audience by pointing out the absurdities of life. Writers like Jonathan Swift, Mark Twain, and Joseph Heller wrote about the issues of their day but put a comic spin on starvation, racism, and war. Stand up performers like Lenny Bruce, George Carlin, and Richard Pryor pointed out the absurdities of daily life and language by making audiences laugh about it. Films like Dr. Strangelove, Life of Brian, and Thank You For Smoking made a joke of nuclear war, religious fanaticism, and political corruption. Granted, these are edgier examples and plenty of comedy is much tamer. But the point is that a lot of great comedy is anti-establishment or at least challenges and ridicules the stupidity of society.
That is not true anymore, at least not in the comedies that Hollywood has put increasing focus on. The genre has been overtaken by the “bros,” a particularly wretched class of human being whose sense of self-worth is defined by a narrow conception of masculinity. The masculinity of the “bro” is outwardly confident but inwardly fragile, and he constantly puts on an assertive front while fretting over his failure to live up to an impossible masculine standard, and derides women or homosexuals to compensate. The “bro’s” role models are found on reality television shows like Jersey Shore and The Bachelor and his patron saint is Donald Trump, the master of the inflated ego. A pawn of consumer culture, the “bro” is completely absorbed in the mindless acquisition of status symbols like cars and designer clothes, and women are just another accessory. He is characterized above all by an undeserved sense of entitlement, expecting everyone to recognize his mastery for no reason in particular. It is this attitude that has defined comedy over the past few years.
With this said, let me head off a common rebuttal: I am not advocating political correctness or censorship. No subject should be barred from discussion or ridicule; as Abbie Hoffman once said, sacred cows make the best hamburgers. But comedians and others should not be allowed to cower behind freedom of speech when they say something stupid. Those who truly believe in freedom of speech, not only as a legal principal but also as a cultural value, understand that it is not the same as freedom from criticism. The marketplace of ideas flourishes when ideas are freely expressed but in the process competing ideas may be discarded or reprimanded. As Lizz Winstead notes at the end of the first segment and at the start of the second, comedians and entertainers ought to express themselves honestly and if they truly believe what they say, defend their position against criticism. But let’s not confuse the right to speak with the value of what is said.