In their second issue this semester, TSL published an opinion expressing displeasure with the culture of comedy that has sprung up around the death of Charlie Kirk. The writer is, fortunately, not defending Kirk as a conservative. Rather, they take issue with the “memeification of real violence, be it gun crimes, war crimes, assault, deportation or any other harm to one’s life.” They attribute this trend to social media, even making allowances for their appreciation of a “giggle,” and condemn the resulting “[raising of] the palatability of violence” as counterproductive to genuine “political change.”
I imagine the author sees themselves as fundamentally liberal in their convictions, dedicated to the idea that freedom of speech and the exchange of ideas are crucial to developing a healthy political culture. They probably view the jocularity inherent in the terms “lowkirkenuinely” and “spiritually Israeli” (another example they cite) as a direct impediment to progress. Though I certainly do not believe that posting a Kirkified photo of Brock Purdy will lead to the establishment of fully automated luxury space communism, I do believe that such mockery serves a legitimate political purpose — especially within the precepts of liberal democracy that value the protection of free speech.
Desensitization to satirical depictions of violence against political figures is a necessary evil for the greater good of upholding a liberal society. Not only is it necessary, it’s nothing new.
The founders of modern liberalism did not take such prudish attitudes towards mocking those they detested, even going so far as to celebrate and find jest in violence. In the 17th, 18th, 19th and 20th centuries, liberals and democrats celebrated the untimely demises — even when murdered for base political reasons — of despots like Charles I, Louis XVI and Adolf Hitler. Marie Antoinette was caricatured as a harlot and a traitor selling France out to Austria before her head departed from her neck. Napoleon Bonaparte was drawn in newspapers as the victim of anal rape when his vicious crimes against civilian populations in occupied Spain came to light. Are these distasteful celebrations of violence? Arguably, yes. But they played a vital part in establishing that those who hold positions of political power are human beings like the rest of us, and their abuses of power — which hurt people far more than some off-color jokes — deserve to be mocked.
The same applies to modern opponents of liberal democracy. This, of course, is not to endorse political violence, far from it. The murder of Kirk was wrong, and it is from liberal principles that we can defend such a position: that all men are endowed by their Creator with inalienable rights, among them being life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Kirk was denied that opportunity, and we have liberalism precisely to explain why it is wrong that he was brutally punished for speaking his mind. I argue, even as a staunch republican (in lowercase!), that the executions of Charles I, Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were unnecessary and contemptible acts of bloodthirsty violence. So was the murder of Kirk.
In 1866, Maximilien Robespierre defended his use of the guillotine as an instrument of his political principles, writing, “The driving force of popular government in times of revolution is at once virtue and terror” (my own translation). I disagree, as I am sure most of us do. Robespierre was very clearly wrong, as he might have noticed in the final moments of his life as a guillotine’s blade careened towards his own jugular.
However, the concept of “virtuous terror” is not too far off from something we should value in a liberal democracy. I do not go nearly as far as Robespierre. Political violence, whether state-sanctioned or stochastic, is wrong. However, those in power, and those who seek to gain it for themselves, should be terrified. They should be wholly fearful that the public is one step away from losing all respect for them, and always worry that their credibility could disappear at a moment’s notice. Though they were elected politicians, the same applies to those who wield significant political influence today. This is the case whether the subject in question is Hasan Piker, who was forced to defend himself over tormenting his dog, or Candace Owens feigning ignorance over lesbian sex while maintaining accounts on hookup sites. And yes, it applies to the death of Kirk, the pratfalls of ICE agent thugs, Israeli atrocities in Gaza and Cornell University’s feckless response to allegations of rape. I do not suggest that finding humor in these situations will somehow put an end to them. I do, however, see our collective understanding of the mockability of these situations as a basic acknowledgment that the public reigns supreme.
Liberal democracy rests upon the foundation that all of us are subject to the same standards, whether we are a lowly college student or a famed college dropout who goes around the country arguing with college students. But if the dropout commanded the attention of millions, even if he were the object of a brutal murder, his influential position necessitates that he be the object of jest as well. Because the “deadly comedy” that might be contemptible to some is really the “virtuous terror” holding the powerful to account.
Akshay Seetharam HM ’27 continues his tradition of writing scattershot opinions while making crosswords for TSL, even as sickness takes away his ability to continue his local classical music column this week. He strongly advocates that you learn a second language, thus enabling you to understand anti-Napoleon political cartoons from a variety of sources.
Facebook Comments