Comedians tend to attract public scorn after saying something morally…questionable. In response, some like Bill Maher and Jerry Seinfeld deflect responsibility and balk at “cancel culture” or “political correctness.” Similarly, Chris Rock has commented that comedians refrain from taking risks to safeguard their careers.
Others, however, take a more moderate approach. Sarah Silverman once recommended to People Magazine that, “I do think it’s important, as a comedian, as a human, to change with the times, to change with new information….I think you have to listen to the college-aged, because they lead the revolution. They’re pretty much always on the right side of history.”
Who’s right?
Here’s the gist: humor involves inherent risk. Yet it’s an invaluable social tool. When it works, it carries us up the social ladder, eases situational tension, and cements our relationships with those around us. Laughter can substantially reduce stress, improve physical and mental health outcomes, and even promote learning.
Here’s the gist: humor involves inherent risk. Yet it’s an invaluable social tool.
Yet what distinguishes disparagement humor from other forms is that it typically evokes amusement in some and negative feelings such as “embarrassment, disgust, guilt, anger, or frustration” in others. It’s not a joke that either sticks or doesn’t—it’s a joke that can stick or fall flat while inflicting discomfort and even prejudice, whether intentionally or not.
Some believe offense to always be unwarranted. But research indicates that comedy is, in fact, an intricate moral endeavor. Even Ricky Gervais, notorious for an abrasive style, once told GQ, “My conscience doesn’t take a day off.” What we find funny, unfunny, appalling, and hysterical depends at least partially on our internal sense of right and wrong. However, our moral reactions don’t adhere to a preconceived logic but rather originate from emotions like anger, guilt, elevation, and compassion—feelings that we later examine and explain.
Moral Foundations Theory posits that each of us adheres to five central moral pillars. Those who score highly in care and fairness—compassion for the suffering and a preference for cooperation and justice—are more likely to find derogatory humor toward marginalized groups less acceptable, possibly since it provokes one’s desire to protect the social standing of such communities. Conversely, those who score highly in loyalty (commitment to an in-group and hostility to outsiders), sanctity (one’s sense of physical and spiritual “purity”), and authority (value of obedience) tend to detest religiously derogatory humor.
Disparagement humor rebels against these pillars and disregards the “common rules of human communication.” Therefore, violations must cling to a middle ground between too bland (unfunny because it’s boring) and too grave (unfunny because it’s overly threatening).
Disagreement about the morality of such jokes originates from a back-and-forth about whether consequences matter more (consequentialism) or whether intentions matter more (deontologism). It also stems from a disconnect between some who think a joke is always “just a joke” and those who believe humor has tangible impacts on society.
Therefore, violations must cling to a middle ground between too bland (unfunny because it’s boring) and too grave (unfunny because it’s overly threatening).
Disagreement about the morality of such jokes originates from a back-and-forth about whether consequences matter more (consequentialism) or whether intentions matter more (deontologism). It also stems from a disconnect between some who think a joke is always “just a joke” and those who believe humor has tangible impacts on society.
Confusion persists because we sometimes use humor to disguise genuine prejudice as it makes typically unacceptable views more socially palatable, whereas other times we utilize it subversively to upend the status quo. Furthermore, subversive humor—the kind that appears derogatory on its surface but really seeks to combat social inequity—is often misinterpreted by those who are more prejudiced. They’re not in on the joke, so to speak, and find the stereotypes or derogation themselves funny rather than the subversion.
Derogatory jokes can negatively affect the people being joked about depending on who’s telling the joke, who’s receiving the joke, and the collective understanding about why the joke is funny in the first place. One study concluded that sexist jokes emboldened men who are more hostile toward women to explicitly prefer larger funding cuts to women’s organizations and claim that gender harassment was okay. However, they were less likely to express these beliefs when given neutral jokes. Ford and Ferguson (2004) termed this phenomenon “prejudiced norm theory.” Additionally, humor that degrades lower-status groups can cement negative perceptions about those groups, drive discriminatory policies and behaviors, and discourage those joked about from seeking more powerful positions in society.
Because humor can disguise prejudice so well, it can also prime us to accept it no matter how open-minded we are. These stereotypes frequently go unchallenged in the context of humor, where we’re encouraged not to linger or take it personally. But as Kenneth Brewer summarized from researcher Jennifer Marra’s work, “it is not coincidental that extremely racist periods in American history have featured extremely racist humor.”
It’s not necessarily the derogatory humor itself that’s the most harmful, but rather the attitudes we express toward it. When we argue that something is “just a joke,” we dismiss every measurable impact a joke can have on how certain people are perceived and treated by our society and institutions. Such nonchalance hardly motivates us to ameliorate troubled histories.
It’s not as though derogatory humor never lands superbly. Humor often pushes boundaries and can be funnier for doing so. However, absolute liberation from responsibility from our speech doesn’t make sense, given the tangible adverse effects that poorly executed derogation can have on others. Instead, a more moderate comic immoralism defended by Conor Kianpour permits the creative flexibility to use disparaging humor without eliminating all responsibility to do so wisely.
When we argue that something is “just a joke,” we dismiss every measurable impact a joke can have on how certain people are perceived and treated by our society and institutions.
As storytellers, we are responsible for the way we choose to employ humor. Let’s set aside our political ideologies for a moment and instead consider the following advice with the sole ambition of successfully getting our humor across to others:
- Keep in mind that humor extends beyond ourselves. We’ve decided to bring others in on the joke for one reason or another. Misunderstanding, moral disagreements, and more make derogatory humor tricky, though. A joke not being received well is just one of the risks we take.
- Who are you? Are you part of the group being made fun of, or are you an outsider? If you’re an outsider, ambiguity may interfere with people finding the joke funny because they don’t know if you’re just joking or masking sincere prejudice. Clarify your good-natured intentions to the audience by poking fun at yourself, at everyone (the popularly advocated “no holds barred” method”), or by balancing negative stereotypes with authentic, positive portrayals.
- Remember that people’s moral reactions to humor are based on emotions such as disgust. This principle applies to everyone, regardless of whether you’re conservative, liberal, moderate, or other. Successful humor bypasses these reactions, lowering cognitive and emotional barriers.
- Avoid immediate defensiveness. Some comedians have a nasty habit of arrogantly dismissing any criticisms of bad-tasting jokes. But that’s just poor form. In the same interview mentioned at the beginning of this article, Ricky Gervais elaborated to GQ that, “I can justify every joke I’ve ever done. As I’ve often said, I think there’s a difference between not caring about offending and being willing to explain why you don’t think people should be offended.” If our only defense to a joke is that “it was only a joke,” it’s beneficial to reevaluate why we were telling that joke in the first place.
- Distinguish between censorship and consideration. Censorship is a loaded term that too frequently drives us—especially Americans, as lovers of the First Amendment—to become indignant at the idea of limiting anything we say. It is our constitutional right to offend (in most circumstances), after all! However, it’s plain decent to think a little before speaking. Who knows—maybe you’ll find an even better delivery for your joke with a bit of deliberation.
- Test out your humor with a small group. This backfires if you surround yourself with yes-folk. Instead, find some people who are blunt and willing to listen. Gauge with them the appropriateness of your joke and examine how the way you express your joke affects the way they interpret that joke.
Humor is ultimately a game of mutual interpretation. There is no one-size-fits-all approach to defining comedic ethics, but we can tailor our standards to our own morality as well as our audience, circumstances, and goals. We want to convey humorous ideas without significantly offending others. We want to build our relationships with good-natured humor rather than shred them with ill-natured quips. It’s up to us to more seriously consider the way we frame ideas, the words we choose, and how we depict others. It doesn’t mean avoiding all risks, but it does mean considering such risks, accepting when we’ve erred, and actively changing our format rather than stagnating out of stubbornness.
