
In Albania, it seems that a new category of protestor has emerged: the protestor who seeks to overthrow the government, but refuses to be overthrown by a coup.
A little humor from Orange about the protest was enough and social networks exploded. Anonymous and famous, indignant and revolted: "Government attack!", "Servility!", "You're making fun of the protest!"
No, people. It's getting humorous.
What happened to the protest that no one can make fun of it anymore? From the moment someone takes the microphone on the boulevard, does they also gain immunity from satire?
On the contrary. That's where the humorous material begins.
When a protester goes out on the boulevard and shouts "Arrest Rama!", the protester has the right to say it. But the comedian has the right to ask: Who arrests him? The crowd with the microphone?
This is not a mockery of the right to protest. It is a mockery of the way politics and the crowd sometimes turn the microphone into a courtroom, the accusation into a verdict, and the cheer into a condemnation.
Humor has no duty to take the side of the protest. Nor of the government.
He takes the side of the absurd.
And protest is part of reality. That's why it's also part of satire. Humor deals with the strong, with the powerful. And that's how protesters are, that's how they behave. So I don't agree with some commentators who write that we're dealing with some idiots.
Humor has poked fun at kings, presidents, ministers, judges, priests, and crowds. It has also poked fun at God. Aristophanes understood this more than two thousand years ago. Since then, satire has had a bad habit: it has little respect for authority when authority is made ridiculous.
In fact, power is the favorite target.
Rama may be prime minister, but he does not own his image. Berisha may be a political leader, but he does not own his public image. A minister may have power, but he does not receive with the post a certificate that says: “Mockery is prohibited.”
The same goes for the protester. If you go out on the public stage, you become part of it. And the public's part is not just applause. It's also criticism. It's also caricature. It's also jokes.
Protest has the right to shout. Humor has the right to laugh at it. These are not contradictory. On the contrary, a protest that seeks to overthrow a government must have enough self-confidence to endure even a joke. A famous French president did not feel welcome when newspapers did not mock and caricature him.
I remember a story with Pjetër Arbnori, who imitated Agron Llakaj beautifully. Many Party militants could not stand this and insulted and insulted Agron wherever they found him. “How can you deal with a prisoner over twenty years old”, were their complaints. But, Pjetër himself, tells me one day: “My birthday is the day after tomorrow and I want Agron to be invited”. For a moment I was stunned, but I embraced him for his dignity and his perception of humor.
At least come close to Arbnor in your concept of irony and humor.
Because if a joke knocks you down, maybe the problem isn't the joke. It's the fragility of the protest.
And when a society starts deciding who is sacred and who is not allowed to be made fun of, the path to freedom is not closed by the government. It is closed by those who can't bear to laugh at themselves.
Note: This article is exclusive to Top-channel.tv