Is dull politics disenfranchising voters?
Academic argues we need more humanity and humour in our debating chambers
Who was the last politician you heard deliver a real zinger, a witty one-liner that sped to an argument’s core like a William Tell crossbow bolt? One that made you laugh, cheer and shout out “Bravo, Huzzah,” or even just a good old “Yippee!”
A clever and witty turn of phrase that succeeded in leaving its target’s dumb-thoroughly-founded, flabbergasted and struggling to come back from the most potent weapon in politics - laughter. Maybe you heard such a thing last week? Last month? Last year? Maybe not…
In fact, we bet you’re scratching your head and sucking on the end of a pencil right now, aren’t you? We’ve been pondering the question and, frankly, we’re in danger of lead poisoning. But why the humour drought? In this pressurised, combative, fast-moving news world is there no time to report quips in the sun-scorched heat of politics? Or is it that they’re now so risk averse that politicians fearful voters might rain on their humour parade instead prefer the shade of dullness?
Oh, we know all about some entertaining content on the platform formerly known as twitter. And yes, there is some good satirical stuff being produced out there on other social media. But we’re talking about our politicians themselves. Where’s the fun gone?
One of the better ones we’ve heard in the past year came not from Parliament, but our city council chamber. With apologies to hard-working council leader Cammy Day, he was well and truly nailed after being forced to distance himself from his own remark on national radio about short-term lets legislation that seemed to contradict the council’s position. Angry colleagues forced him to recant, and SNP councillor Danny Aston christened him “Calamity” Day. Nice line, well done Danny, it made us smile. And well done to Cammy, who took it like a good sport. But it was a small oasis in a very big desert.
Diligent as ever on the trail of a story we did some quick desktop research, and googled “Hilarity in the Scottish Parliament.” You won’t believe how many funny stories came up. Or perhaps you will. Let’s just say it was a round number…
Copilot, the Artificial Intelligence search engine, does tell us that “whether it’s a clever retort or a well-timed joke, the Scottish Parliament is never short of verbal sparring” and points to one or two moments of good humour – but nothing in the past eight years is listed. Is that tumbleweed drifting by? Oh, the banter, the missing banter.
Ask it for more general UK political humour and there’s more to choose from – but only just. Yes, we heard laughter in the rain when Rishi made that General Election announcement to get his campaign off to a damp squib of a start. It was funny, but only in a grimly disbelieving kind of a way. Copilot also listed as a big hit from 2021 posh Tory Jacob Rees-Mogg rapping the words to New Order’s Enger-lund football anthem “World in Motion.” Now if that image doesn’t make your toes curl with the cringe, we don’t know what will.
A recent zinger was delivered by the oft-derided as too boring leader of the Labour Party, Sir Keir Starmer, on a day when rival and then Prime Minister Boris Johnston was watching his Ministers stampede through the exit door like the occupants of Noah’s ark when the rain stopped. “Is this the first recorded case of the sinking ships fleeing the rat?” he asked the tousle-headed one, who could only eek-eek and rattily clean his whiskers in response.
Is it just us, or is it all a long way from the standard set by old-timers like the late Denis Healey, former Labour Chancellor, who disdainfully put down an attack from Tory rival Geoffrey Howe with the immortal line that it was “like being savaged by a dead sheep.” Incidentally, lesser known, the two men enjoyed a healthy respect. When Healey sent congratulations to Howe on being appointed Foreign Secretary some years later, Howe maintained the ovine theme and responded that it was “like being nuzzled by an old ram.” No baa humbug in those days.
Winston Churchill was, of course, the Grand Master of the political quip. Rumour was he’d happily spend hours, staying late into the night to perfect and rehearse a ‘spontaneous’ zinger. It was so worth it. Of arch-rival Clement Attlee he said: “A modest man, with much to be modest about” nor was there anything woolly in his description of Ramsay MacDonald as “a sheep in sheep’s clothing.” One of his greatest lines was reserved for his predecessor as Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, and his policy of appeasement with Hitler – “an appeaser is one who feeds a crocodile hoping it will eat him last.”
Even the usually fertile soil of US politics has been barren in producing a comedy crop in recent years. Humour does not appear to grow in MAGA soil and you won’t get much in the way of laughs listening to Trump supporters like Marjorie Taylor Greene and co. When the UK’s Foreign Secretary very politely suggested she and fellow Congress members might consider releasing much-needed aid to Ukraine last Autumn, her star-spangled response was an aggressive “Kiss My Ass.” Dear oh dear. Perhaps she sees no need for wit and humour when she has access to firearms. But as former Labour leader Neil Kinnock told us “Two negatives don’t make a positive, any more than two half-wits make a wit.”
See what we mean? Clever, and funny. You feel he’d want to outwit you. Not present his derriere and ask you to pucker up or beat you to death with a blunt instrument. Death by humour, not haemorrhage.
But do you remember any memorable laughter lines here in the Scottish Parliament at a time when the source material has been so rich – think campervans, deleted whatsapps, abandoned bottle return schemes, disputed ipad bills - that we’re crying out for a laugh? Or perhaps just crying? To be blunt, every ill-tempered debating point is hammered home like a particularly naughty nail, rather than nailed with an exquisite dart. What’s happened to the humour in Scotland’s politics?
Humour is not a bad thing in politics. Indeed, as dear old Peter Ustinov – actor, raconteur, and writer but sadly never a politician – reminded us: “It is our responsibilities, not ourselves, that we should take seriously.” Comedy, he told us, is “simply a funny way of being serious.”
There is a very serious side to having a laugh. Academic Dr Nick Holm studies humour to understand how it can help us think more seriously about social and political issues. We sought out his view from the other side of the world, based as he is in the School of English and Media Studies at Massey University’s Wellington campus in New Zealand.
In his book Humour as Politics - The Political Aesthetics of Contemporary Comedy Dr Holm articulates the importance and power of humour – not just as escapism or light entertainment but also as a vehicle for confronting topics such as racism, sexism and even terrorism.
The purpose of book is “not to say what humour is, but rather what it does or can do”, he said. “Despite some appearances to the contrary, humour is not trivial, nor a passing fancy, and though it may appear to be of less importance than the tragic, the serious, the sombre and the grave, nothing could be further from the truth.”
Dr Holm argues that humour is an important tool that can help politics connect with people. “Laughter is an amazing way to create social bonding, and there is a great deal of research that supports this. In reverse, when politics becomes too dull, too earnest, people often lose interest and that disenfranchises people. Clearly that’s not a good thing.”
He believes that humour in politics, like so many other things, works in a cycle. “Sadly for the UK, we are in the dull phase of the cycle. The General Election is perceived as a contest led by two dull men really, and neither appears determined to remove the tag.
“When you think about it, it is not really all that surprising when you consider what has gone before during the past few years. The UK elected a joker who could turn a funny line – Boris Johnston – as Prime Minister and that didn’t really work out so well for a lot of people. He was amusing, yes, but lots of the other aspects of his personality meant he eventually had to go. It didn’t work for most people in the country. Then you got Liz Truss, who became a joke.” (erm, sadly true. How often is a Prime Minister of the UK’s future compared by a national newspaper to a lettuce. Unfavourably.)
Another factor in the lack of gags by politicians is their aversion to risk. Nick added: “As we all know, politics is now full of special advisers, constant monitoring of public perception and opinion, and focus groups. Jokes never survive the focus groups, sadly.”
“So now we are in that phase of the cycle where steady but unspectacular as she goes appears to be the mantra. No-one wants to appear too clever, too smart if you like. But the good news is the cycle will change again, and humour will make a return.”