Comedy show or ballot? With more comedic politicians and political comedians than every before, the line between leadership and laughter is blurring.
Ukraine got a new president last Sunday. The politically inexperienced actor/ comedian Volodymyr Zelensky rocketed to power after securing 73% of the public vote, a landslide victory against the incumbent president Petro Poroshenko.
Absent any clear legislative policies or stances (apart from vague anti-corruption sentiments), one can only assume that Zelensky’s campaign message was ‘fake it til you make it’; his only real experience in politics has been as an actor in a fictional Ukrainian TV show in which he plays the Ukrainian president.
Welcome to Twilight zone people, the snack bar is over there.
In the program that made him a public figure, Servant of the People, Zelensky plays a high school teacher who rises to the top of Ukrainian politics after a viral video shows him waxing lyrical about government corruption.
Which, of course, inherently lends him the qualifications to become the actual president. In other news, I stood in a car park this morning therefore I officially consider myself a car.
How comedy infiltrated politics
Jokes aside, it’s hard to be too shocked at the rise of Zelensky from the primordial soup of today’s politics. Increasingly, the counter-culture of protest voting and populism is platforming professional actors and comedians in politics.
Marjan Sarec, a satirist, was elected as the Slovenian prime minster last August. Jimmy Morales, previously a comic actor, is the president of Guatemala. Jon Gnarr, an Icelandic stand-up comedian, was Reykjavik’s mayor until 2014, and Beppe Grillo, an Italian comedian, helped mastermind the Five Star Movement, which now forms part of Italy’s ruling coalition.
Heck, even Trump’s most recognised years are those he spent aggressively pointing at people on The Apprentice.
You don’t have to look far to find the reason comedians are in political vogue. Comedians are counter-culture by definition. It’s their job to analyse and poke fun at the values and authority of existing power establishments, whatever form these establishments may take.
And in recent years people have become so disillusioned by mainstream government that, by definition, parties and candidates that are not mainstream stand to benefit.
One need only look at the 2016 US election or the Brexit campaign (the two classic examples) to see the result of populist discontent. The hysteria of alleged ‘fake news’ media means that facts and experts are no longer trusted, with speed of information dissemination now more valuable than the careful consideration of that information’s validity (cheers Twitter).
The sense that language itself is being weaponised has become prevalent with the spread of social media, and part of the problem with this consists in our never-quite-knowing where the facts lie. So, people have begun to rely more on their feelings to cast their vote.
Angry at the current president? Show your anger by simply voting for anyone that isn’t them. Want your government to know you’ve got the ‘ump? Vote for literally the most ridiculous candidate on the ballot because hey, it’s all a big TV stunt anyways.
Comedians also have a psychological advantage in appealing to the public. Humour is usually a positive sign in people, and we like those who can make us laugh.
And at a time when global, economic, and technological change is driving upheaval and uncertainty, it’s understandable that voters would be especially taken by basic feel-good leadership involving not only humour but also unrealistic promises.
Both Trump and Boris Johnson used humour to gain power, wearing their ‘relatability’ with pride. Check out the clip below.