Laughing at power: O-Two Co-Editor Joshua McCormack discusses the importance of political satire in modern society, especially after the re-election of Donald Trump in early November
I started writing this article during the US Election; each paragraph typed amidst the giddy excitement (turned mounting horror) of the University Observer's Overnight Election Watch Party. Understandably, most people stumbled from the event bleary-eyed and disconsolate, the Trump win casting a thick pall. Watching the final relevant results come in as we gathered around at 6am, I realised that the only panacea for the coming weeks and months of another nightmarish presidency was laughter, because raging and crying may not be able to change reality, but laughing can surely soften the blow. And what better form of comedy as a balm, than humour which makes mockery of the very thing that stresses so many: political satire.
. . . pieces of entertainment which, instead of skirting from the issues, embrace their absurdity are crucial for our collective sanity. A reassurance that, no, you're not the only one who finds it all so ridiculous.
In an era of increasingly toxic politics, where good-natured debate is extinct and compromise is inconceivable, where social media fuels entrenched opinions and echo-chamber ideologies, where most people have no faith in the system and individuals that govern our day to day lives, pieces of entertainment which, instead of skirting from the issues, embrace their absurdity are crucial for our collective sanity. A reassurance that, no, you're not the only one who finds it all so ridiculous.
Satire refers to when humour or exaggeration is employed to highlight the foolishness of a person, thing, or institution. Political satire first arose in Ancient Greece where the dramatist, Aristophanes, satirised Athenian Leaders over their handling of the Peloponnesian War. It is designed to deconstruct people in positions of power, dampen the weight they exert on our day-to-day lives. Political satire takes two forms: Serious Allegory, and Comedic Allegory, with some blurring between the two. In the realm of Serious Allegory, there are the following: Animal Farm, Brave New World, 1984; grim stories that exaggerate the contemporary political landscape to expose all-too real social dangers. Comedic Allegories - which are the focus of this article - includes classical texts like Jonathan Swift's Gulliver's Travels and A Modest Proposal, and modern slices of prestige Hollywood like Veep & Don't Look Up.
Novels like 1984 aren't exactly renowned for their soothing atmosphere and comforting message, and thus it is to comedy we must turn. And what better show to serve as illustrative, then the one which came so tragically close to predicting reality on November 5th: Veep, starring Julia Louis-Dreyfuss.
Veep chronicles the misadventures of American Vice-President Selina Meyer as she negotiates the countless political firestorms and bitter rivalries which hound her days in office. The series proved prescient, tackling a myriad of issues and scandals which subsequently unfolded in the media; leaked email scandals, conspiracy theorists invading Congress, anti-immigrant rhetoric, COVID-style shutdowns, anti-vaccine sentiment, and even – in a foreshadowing of Joe Biden – the resignation of a President ahead of their Second Term, paving the way for the VP (Meyer) to stage a bid for the Presidency.
On paper, none of these incidents are in the slightest bit funny, but Veep mines the humour in the dysfunction. It pulls back the formal curtain of politics, where the media unintentionally lends a veneer of legitimacy, exposing the players, who beneath their PR-masks are secretly some of the most clueless, inept, vindictive, fallible, and utterly human people on the planet.
Armando Ianucci said, "I want it to feel real. I don't want them to seem like caricatures – I want them to be viewed as real people, with their own problems, and hopes, and dreams, and frustrations …
Far from being bastions of professionalism, the characters in Veep are a rogues-gallery of avarice and idiocy – Meyer as the ruthless vice-president who craves the peoples' adoration, the unscrupulous political staffer Dan Egan who's backstabbed his way into power but can't escape the gravity of his own incompetence, the criminally-underestimated and good-hearted Splett, or the self-obsessed, self-loathing chief of staff Amy Brookheimer whose sharp intellect is undercut by her festering stress.
Discussing the characters, creator Armando Ianucci said, "I want it to feel real. I don't want them to seem like caricatures – I want them to be viewed as real people, with their own problems, and hopes, and dreams, and frustrations … And it's that frustration and exasperation that I look for in comedy."
And this is the crux of satire: showcasing that even the seemingly unassailable are indeed fallible, as weak, uncertain, and incompetent as the rest of us.
And there is no limit to the subject matter comedic political satires can tackle: Aramando Ianucci's Death of Stalin explores the chaos of the dictator's succession, deconstructing the horrible, murderous, political players to highlight how even the most evil of people deserve our ridicule. And this is the crux of satire: showcasing that even the seemingly unassailable are indeed fallible, as weak, uncertain, and incompetent as the rest of us. If people can keep this truth in mind, hold that baffled laughter inside as we engage with politics and politicians, then it is easier to challenge
An assured leader is one thing, but a pretending fool … now, that is a much more defeatable target.