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By George Chesterton
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The defining quality of Donald Trump is that he is funny. Now I know what you’re thinking: what about the election denying, the trashing of institutions, the self-aggrandizement, cronyism and profiteering? The list of complaints against him could fill an empty reflecting pool. But I’ve long felt that humor—genuine comedy at times—is his secret weapon. Being funny helped him become president and helps him to be president, however much his enemies hate it.
When the most powerful man in the world falls asleep at an Oval Office event on childhood-vaccine policy and is—so the rumors had it—electro-shocked into waking up via a switch attached to a nearby humanoid aide, what is the overwhelming reaction? It’s not shock or concern or disgust. It’s laughter. Maybe the joke is on us. He’s the one living in all our heads rent free.
Trump has normalized the relationship between immense power and humor in a way nobody else has done before. As the man himself might suggest: "A lot of people are saying I am the funniest president in the history of this great country." Sometimes his humor is intentional, sometimes not, but it all helps him grease the wheels of his political machine.
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The first time I really noticed his humor might have political significance was when he adopted an absurd accent to pronounce "Puerto Rico" at a Spanish heritage event in 2017, just days after the devastation of Hurricane Maria. People had died and suffered as a result and while the U.S. response to the emergency was being scrutinized, Trump wanted to sound affectionate. He said "We love Puerto Rico" like Ricardo Montalbán. I laughed out loud despite my better judgment. I was programmed to be disgusted but his act worked its magic.
Once you pay attention to Trump’s humor, the less arbitrary and accidental it seems. That soft lilting voice that rises to emphasize a word when you least expect it. The rictus grin cracking under his fake tan. His hair. His ties. He tells jokes for sure, but he is also a natural physical comedian.
More than anything he is a master of the absurd. Another favorite of mine was when he said "Sunlight is pouring over the entire world" during his second inauguration. It doesn’t matter what it means, like a lot of things that are funny. It just is. Shortly after that he said, "I’ve been tested more than any other president in our country’s history," which will be news to the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. But the point remains. This level of absurdity throws mid-level minds off the scent. They just don’t know how to handle his disruption of their normalcy.
His implacable opponents call him a fascist or a dictator. Sometimes both. But here’s the thing: fascists aren’t funny. Anyway, it’s hard to attribute a fascist worldview to a manchild whose only true desire is to be the center of the known universe. Trump wouldn’t know an ideology if it was delivered with his Big Mac. As for the dictator part, he and MAGA are certainly trying to game the system in their favor (they aren’t unique in that regard), but this is not a man with designs on totalitarianism. He’s 80 for goodness’ sake. He just wants to be president and have some fun along the way. Who would you rather watch at an open mic night: Biden, Obama or Trump? No contest.
A common complaint against Trump is that he does not respect the dignity of his office. That’s hard to argue against after seeing him boogie with a saber to the Village People’s "YMCA" while cutting a giant cake at the Commander-in-Chief Ball in January last year. But, as Trump-hater Robert De Niro might argue, there’s a flip side to that coin. Hitler did not dance. Nor did Stalin. I can’t imagine Mao was into disco. No wannabe dictator would ever make a fool of himself so unconsciously. We should take comfort in that, however uncomfortable it is.
Trump can make you laugh, despite the knowledge he has led a life of relentless amorality and may have done some appalling things in decades of unaccountable privilege. I can acknowledge that Trump’s natural humor covers a multitude of sins while still finding him funny. It’s a paradox, but then so much about Trump is.
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At the White House Correspondents’ Dinner in July, he started well and any reticence over whether to laugh or not was more about the journalists’ feelings they shouldn’t than the quality of the jokes (a kind of political version of Ricky Gervais at the Golden Globes). His zinger about a third term was genuinely well delivered, and he got a laugh when he told them it was the biggest ever gathering of people with Trump Derangement Syndrome, but for some it was too close to home. He makes people feel uncomfortable, which is what left-wing comics used to aspire to before they decided activism was more important than comedy.
Typically, he went too far when the nasty personal attacks began, such as his rambling rant against CNN’s Kaitlan Collins. That’s another illustration of the Trump paradox. This powerful man can be nasty and cruel and funny on the same evening. Complicated, isn’t it? But that also tells us he’s no dictator. Dictators do not laugh, especially at themselves. And as his second term goes on, it’s clear he does not—and cannot—control the hearts and minds of Americans. There can be no Orwellian Ministry of Truth if Big Brother can’t resist the opportunity to do a ridiculous two-fisted dance at every chance he gets.
In Umberto Eco’s novel The Name of the Rose, the old blind monk Jorge poisons the pages of the only known copy of Aristotle’s book on comedy because he believes laughter is sinful and undermines authority. All dictatorships follow this principle. It’s true that frivolity and amusement can be incredibly significant. That is why those who hate Trump should take some solace. The president can make you laugh at him and sometimes with him. In a dictatorship he would not crack jokes, neither would we be able to mock his many absurdities. The relief of comedy flows back and forth, from side to side and from ally to opponent. He is, paradoxically again, an embodiment of American freedom. Laughter is the best medicine, and the president will see you now.
George Chesterton is Newsweek’s Director, Publishing & Subscription Strategy.
The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.
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