Two events, separated by hours, which collided one Sunday afternoon connected several seemingly diverse subjects: the British Royal family, the cover of a magazine containing words of a foreign language I do not speak, court jesters, a psychological theory developed in the 1960’s, and my mum. The common thread holding together these odd bedfellows is satire.
Earlier in the day a good friend had sent me a WhatsApp photo of the front cover of the weekly French satirical magazine ‘Charlie Hebdo’. The 10th of March edition depicts Queen Elizabeth II kneeling on the neck of Meghan Markle in a manner not too dissimilar to the circumstances leading to the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis on 25th May 2020. I have written about this subject and if you are minded to read my views then please seek them out on my personal blog.
The specific aspect I was keen to explore followed a very brief conversation with my mum whilst out for a stroll later in the day, when she remarked, “Did you see that disgusting image of the Queen in that French magazine?” I knew that her discovery of YouTube would ultimately introduce her to the cruel world that exists outside of ‘Escape to the Chateau’ and the viral ‘Ahi Challenge’ dance craze and for a vital moment I didn’t pick up the clue in her opening salvo. My reply, unashamedly in favour of satire, was met with a grimace of granite. She was not amused. Since it was Mothering Sunday this was not the time nor the place to discuss the matter any further.
My appreciation of satire does not necessarily condone any of the myriad of viewpoints emanating from such a source and Charlie Hebdo is in no way the only sultan of satire. Domestic TV programmes such as ‘Have I got News for you’ and our own ‘Private Eye’ magazine are heavily reliant on hardcore irony, ridicule, and spoof. To me satire opens the door to the vitally important issues of the day. The stuff that, by its very nature, doesn’t necessarily have easy one-dimensional answers. For example, is our Royal family racist? By opening the conversation up it also allows some observers to simply shut the door in an instant. My mum’s loaded question was a door closer. Her opinion was framed, no doubt, looking for a helping hand to agree with her sentiment that the piece was repugnant. Mentally occupying a similar space has many advantages, particularly with those who are closest to us.
Eric Berne, the Canadian born psychiatrist created the theory of transactional analysis. Extensive field research, both in formal and informal settings, led him to the unsurprising conclusion that we have several ego states – judgemental, emotional, and logical. Labelling them as ‘parent’, ‘child’ and ‘adult’ he contended that our chosen ego state would have an intrinsic effect upon the way communication with another would go. No ego state is superior to the other and context is everything. For example, if I had lost my mobile phone whilst out walking in the park you could respond in a variety of ways: “You twat!” (parent), “you’re fucked then!” (child) or “let’s search the vicinity together” (adult). Perhaps if you wished to keep your front teeth (child), the adult option would be the safest bet. Equally, if I was in obvious need of consoling an emotional response might be the best bet. Finally, if I had not seen a potential risk as I edged back towards the cliff edge to capture that spectacular holiday selfie you may feel inclined to shout, “STOP!” (as any good parent would do). Although satire radiates brightly from ‘child’ it can lead to an adult landing strip.
In foisting her opinion on me, as a committed Royalist, my mum had a wonderful synchronicity of power and judgment (parent). Complimentary attitudes. Yet satire plays to our contradictions and can, given the opportunity, allow a safe space to discuss the more delicate subjects which will often engage with prejudice, discrimination, and lack of understanding. I once saw the comedian Frankie Boyle live. Not for the faint hearted and I was thankful that I was sat miles away from the front row. His delivery was generally received by laughter (child), followed by a sharp intake of breath (parent) after the realisation (adult) that the subject matter is generally not the topic at dinner parties. I would argue that these taboo subjects often need the light of satire to open the issue to a more mature debate.
Indeed, court jesters were more than simply there for entertainment. Exploiting their proximity to the sovereign they would often mock matters that most adult courtiers would agonise over. Enemies and friends alike were satirised providing an important avenue of communication to the monarch. Even the ruler’s shortcomings could be addressed by the splendour of satire.
According to legend the jester Triboulet once slapped the bottom of King Louis XII, an act punishable by death. A stay of execution was permitted to allow him to submit an apology which was more offensive than the original feat. He responded by stating that he had confused the King for the Queen and lived to laugh another day. Until that is, he again infuriated his boss who enquired how he would wish to die? Replying, ‘from old age’, he was spared execution and simply banished.
The vilification of satire, often by the elite, is commonplace but to extinguish this vital mechanism of reflection is, in my opinion, destructive and dangerous. Often an adult response can be lost in translation, especially if the orator relies on facts, figures, and fundamentals. On the other hand, a parental swipe can be easily ignored as a probable full-on attack of the character of another. A dollop of satire cuts out the bullshit and elegantly grabs the issue by the jugular. I contend that the recent axing of the Mash report hosted by the comedian Nish Kumar by the BBC is an act of veritable verbal vandalism.
Scorn, a distant cousin of satire was poured upon the Royal family by Meghan Markle. I do not want to analyse this kernel of the kerfuffle at this juncture, save examining the response of the Royal family:
“The issues raised, particularly that of race, are concerning. While some recollections may vary, they are taken very seriously and will be addressed by the family privately.”
Your Majesty you played a blinder! An adult retort of such simplicity will always be the sophisticated slayer of satire!
As Carl Hiaasen, columnist for the Miami Herald and Tribune, once remarked:
“Good satire comes from anger. It comes from a sense of injustice, that there are wrongs in the world that need to be fixed. And what better place to get that well of venom and outrage boiling than a newsroom, because you’re on the front lines.”
And since a favourite budding satirist of mine is me (parent) it is quite something when you chuckle (child) at your own topical sarcasm:
“All this vaccination nonsense! The Bill Gates conspiracy and all that malarkey!
In addition to getting the Coronavirus locator jab today I downloaded MS Teams into my retinas too.”
So, I finish with a vital distress signal!
SOS!
Save Our Satire!
© Ian Kirke 2021
Title Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash