Do you recall a time when America’s public life was not mostly political? If you’re younger than 35, you might be puzzled by that question (or one about the occasional appropriateness of privacy). But as a millennial, that’s not entirely your fault . . . as if I had to tell you that anything is not your fault.
The infestation of politics just about everywhere is an American fact of life now. Especially widespread — and perversely bleak — is the politicization of comedy.
Once upon a time, political comedy was more comic than polemic. Even directed at prominent politicians, the jokes were usually more mirthful than hateful, and seldom constructed a de facto political harangue. Johnny Carson, the most prominent entertainment figure through three decades, lobbed jokes at every prominent politician, but never seemed to be pushing one party or a certain ideology.
Today political humor seems far removed from the insightful banter of Mort Sahl or the brilliantly edgy songs of Tom Lehrer. It tends to be righteous and angry, often about as funny as a sucker punch.
Pressure to ideologize humor actually began slowly building even in the TV antenna era. Through the 1952 – 1960 Eisenhower presidency, Sahl directed lots of his witty material at Ike, without much pushback. But when John F. Kennedy was elected President in 1960, Sahl began receiving advice from serious-minded Democrats that, ahem, it was time to shut down presidential humor. This lobbying even included a veiled threat from Joseph P. Kennedy, the President’s father.
The senior Kennedy was an interesting figure with some, let’s say, colorful business associates that included, dating from the prohibition era, a Chicagoan influential in politics and other activities, Sam Giancana. The paths of the Kennedy family and Giancana might have crossed more than once, but that subject is shadowy — and one that interested Sahl (who, give thanks, is still going strong).
There’s a creepy counterpart to angry, politically doctrinaire entertainment: servile, hero-worshipping entertainment. Saturday Night Live made the landmark contribution to this art form the day after the Obama administration. An SNL episode staged a straight-ahead, hymn-like rendition of the painfully treacly ‘60s ballad To Sir With Love as a tribute to their Dear Leader. Television’s foremost comedy institution presented adult comedians performing the type of wide-eyed idolatry you might expect from children cloistered in a cult.
This actually happened. It happened in New York, not North Korea.
Comedian and political philosopher Kathy Griffin did get some bad reviews for a photo of her sternly brandishing a bloody model of the current president’s decapitated head, but that comic artistry hardly slowed the 21st century tidal wave of political humor distinguished by rage. Comics and commentators are now generally comfortable telling jokes wishing a president, let’s say, poor health. Such death-wish humor etiquette will probably flip back to traditional once the party of the presidency flips back.
Comedy (loosely defined) is not all that’s been eaten up by politics. How about much of the arts, much of personal communication, even family situations? The storm fronts of political commitment are now darkening Thanksgiving dinners and more.
Politics in education has gone from utopian to Orwellian. When I was a student at Vassar in the early ‘70s, my distinguished college briefly promoted an “enlightened” segregation encouraging Vassar’s black students to live in a nice residence made nicer by forbidding it to white students.
(Courts soon intervened, citing that little federal frowning on segregated housing.)
Today higher education’s enlightened segregation has become even more discriminating. Leftist students increasingly demand to live in areas where nobody disagreeing with their absolutely indisputable politics may dwell. This is the vapidity to which liberal education has graduated. “Safe spaces” are no longer sufficient. True believers are now awarded ideologically safe dorms.
Disapproved opinion on campus now can produce mob violence, all in the name of political virtue, of course. If they had a hammer — well, forget the metaphor of good old Pete Seeger’s oft-warbled anthem (first publicly performed at a testimonial dinner for America’s Communist Party leaders). Now they have real hammers. And rocks. And Molotov cocktails.
Probably political infestation can spread still more. How about pets? Pressure against Republicans owning slinky cats or Democrats owning big dogs?
Ideologically proper food? No, wait, that’s already done. Science? Sports? Sex? Done, done, and done.
Unfunny TV comedies backed by a laugh track and featuring villainous business characters? Oh-so-hip talk shows pushing post-literate political agendas? Overdone.
Well, at least there’s one thing that can’t be politicized. Uh-oh, sorry. I wrote that last sentence because I thought it would segue to a nice closing. But I don’t know where to go with it.