Monty Python - (from left to right: Robert de Niro; Peter Cook; Douglas Adams; Richard Hammond; Ian Brown; Katharine, Duchess of Kent)
In 1941, George Orwell, in his essay The Lion and the Unicorn, attempted a definition of the English people; arguing that, 'it is important to determine what England is, before guessing what part England can play in the huge events that are happening'. His definition characterised us as a nation of hobbyists, of gentle and private paradoxes, with a fear of abstract thought, a belief in the law as something 'cruel and stupid' but 'incorruptible', un-artistic in comparison to the rest of Europe, with no need for the conventions of logic or an ordered system of thought, and insular.
Obviously there is much there with which some would find fault, if not counter-examples. There is also much which is not there, which I have left out, which is crucial to his case, and to his tone. Orwell's description, as shown in its highly abridged form here, seems disparaging and almost on some level cruel. But it is not, and in reading his own words the sense one gleans is one of self-mockery and a mock-defeatist attitude, yet paradoxically proud and twee. He manages to work the endearingly mundane and trivial, such as sentences talking of the quintessentially English love of flowers and of stamp collectors and crossword enthusiasts, into an essay that calls for a Socialist revolution in order to win the war on Fascism. It seems in some ways almost humorous, and this, I think, is the crucial characteristic which Orwell does not quite overtly express; namely the role that humour plays in not just characterising, but in some respects defining the English throughout modern history.
In this vein I wish to look briefly at the historical role of comedy in reflecting the attitudes and sense of identity of the English people, and its importance within society, within a relatively short time frame, from the music-hall tradition and light relief entertainment, through the satirical revival of the 1970s, up until the present day, focusing on comedy's development into an art-form, and from there into the realms of intellectualism, filling a vacuum that is perhaps created by modern culture, or its lack thereof.
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| Rowan Atkinson - seems irrelevant now, but there's a bit in about 1000 words time where I talk about him. |
Historically, humour has always played some role in society that is recognised as stretching beyond its ability to make us laugh. Around 35 BC, Horace's Satires not only gave name to a popular form of satire concerned with pointing to society's faults and mistakes through light-humour and wit, as well as containing the modern day equivalent of an excellent fart joke, but they also established him as one of the great Augustan poets. Among the Peublo Indians of southwestern Arizona the Peublo clowns have long been revered as an intrinsic part of their sacred religious festival that dates back for hundreds, possibly thousands of years. Their role in making old people laugh and small children cry, in pushing the boundaries of what is taboo, in offending sensibilities and attacking prejudices, is seen within the community as taking on an almost spiritual, and cathartic role.
In Britain the role of comedy within society, whether it be satire, wit, or bawdy slap-stick, has also played a vital role in the social, political, and cultural spheres, and is, I feel, inherent to our ideas of freedom of speech, democracy, and national identity.
Throughout the eighteenth century the satirical ballad opera was an extremely popular art form, the most notable example today being John Gay's The Beggar's Opera, which satirised the hypocrisy and decadency of the Walpolean government, whose fear of the power of satire and its hold on public opinion culminated in the Licensing Act of 1737, which granted the Lord Chamberlain sole power of licensing, and thereby censoring plays for stage; a role which persisted right up until 1968.
The popularity of music-hall during World War One formed a key part of rallying patriotism and recruiting troops, and also served as an example of comedy in not only reflecting public opinion, but of defining the British character. As Orwell points out in The Lion and the Unicorn, 'the songs which the soldiers made up and sang of their own accord were not vengeful but humorous and mock-defeatist. The only enemy they ever named was the sergeant-major'. It is crucial to note that the morale boosting songs of the war were not the state sanctioned, state written, glorious and triumphant displays of might that were seen in Germany during World War Two, or Russia after the revolution. They were humorous, twee, quaint little ditties that didn't just reflect the attitudes of the war, but, much on the same level as the poetry of Graves, Sassoon, Owen, and Brooke, came to be the voices that spoke through history to define them.
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| Orwell - Nutter? |
One can hardly ignore the cathartic effect humour had on rallying great swathes of patriotism and reserve as the deadly shadow of Nazism spread across Europe. One can hardly ignore the importance of ridiculing Hitler through belittling caricatures in Punch magazine (just as one cannot ignore that the typically British humour of Punch has been drawn from relentlessly by Historians wishing to pithily convey public reaction to historical events). Mostly, one cannot ignore that a prime example of war-time Britain's answer to the manipulative propaganda of Goebbels was the popular refrain, Hitler Has Only Got One Ball. All of this speaks of a character indigenous to Britain, and it was around the time that the war ended that comedy started to become truly committed to reflecting a sense of British identity.
The 1950s saw the emergence of, most notably, two different, but related streams of comedy. One was the situation comedy of Hancock's Half Hour, a genre which came to define through observational comedy much of the realities of British working class life; (see Only Fools & Horses, Steptoe and Son, etc.). The second was in the more surrealist, escapist style exemplified by The Goons, which could be seen as a precursor to the re-emergence of satire a decade later, with its parodies of elements of British society and class. Along with Hancock's Half Hour, they were two of the only shows of that decade that arguably dealt with the satire and ridicule of politicians, such as MacMillan and Churchill, before the satire boom of the 1960s.
Peter Sellers, of The Goons, himself came in some ways to be a satire of British society in his own life; a character that portrayed, as Orwell put it, 'their refusal to take foreigners seriously', with Clueso; the satirical relationship of America and Britain with Group Captain Mandrake in Doctor Strangelove; and yet this was a man deeply troubled and torn apart underneath the surface, trying to keep his troubles private, and ending up subverting them through other vices.
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| Peter Cook - 'The funniest man who ever drew breath'. |
It is along this road I now believe comedy to be travelling, and in these times I believe the role comedy has to play within British society, (though I do not deny its intrinsic importance within others), is to fill the gap left by the vacuum of modern society. In the 1980s, Spitting Image had opened up a whole new world of ridiculing authority, and its memorable depictions of the Thatcher Government were reportedly highly influential in the dismissal of 8 members of her cabinet. The Long Johns became an informative source for the public in explaining through satire the goings on of big business and government whilst others sort to over-complicate the issues. Satirical shows and publications, such as The Bugle, and Private Eye, continued to be a more trustworthy and informative source of news journalism long after news channels and papers had stretched themselves too thinly in a battle for dramatic, attention-retaining 'content' in a new digital age. Comedians such as Stewart Lee, continued the important role of commenting on religion, with shows such as Jerry Springer the Opera causing significant back-lash from right-wing fundamentalist groups, long after popular art had lost its ability to be relevant. And countless observational humorists, situational comedies, news satire shows and others continue to form and reflect as much of an inherent part of British identity as a culture, as they have always done.
This is by no means to suggest that comedy is the sole arbiter of morality or taste in politics, society, and culture. Literature, art, drama and poetry have been sidelined and for the most part just brutally ignored in this essay in order to avoid becoming bogged down in fruitless side-tracks and to avoid losing sight of the topic in focus. This has also by no means been an attempt to provide any form of a comprehensive history of modern comedy. There are whole side-routes, under-ground movements, and even crucial figures, which have not been touched upon by this essay simply because I did not want to merely produce a narrative.
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| Stewart Lee - Eunuch Content Provider |
This essay, I hope, has been a look, using sparing examples, at the role comedy has played within society, and even in forming part of our national identity, throughout history. Right through from the satirical ballad-operas of the eighteenth century, up to present day satirical publications and even news panel quiz shows, comedy may have lost some of its high-brow artistic worth, but has not lost sight of its objective in both raising questions and pushing boundaries, but also quite simply in making us laugh.
Because of comedy's need to interact with the audience; to stimulate them into laughter; and in that vein to be constantly adapting and associating with them on some level, I believe it always has, and will continue to play a vital role in reflecting and to some degrees defining British culture. It's role in commenting on institutions such as the government, or religion, will continue long after the recognisable artists of modern society have self-referenced and deconstructed themselves into a post-modern coma. The presence of the Oxbridge Mafia in comedy brings a tinge of intellectualism to their humour largely missing in the popular domain from the comedic repertoire of, for example, America, (though one should not forget The Daily Show, or, The Colbert Report). It is a cliché, but it is also aphoristic, that 'you can tell a lot about a man's character from what he laughs at', and it is in the same vein that perhaps you can tell a lot about a nation's characteristics from what we, collectively, laugh, and have laughed at. Punch archives have always been a sure fire indicator of how the working classes, or politicians, were faring in middle-class public opinion; music-halls parodied and commented upon much of what felt socially relevant to a contemporary audience; and television sit-coms to an extent picked up that role after the Second World War.
I heard it protested once that “British Humour” was not an oxymoron, and in defence of this I would say that we have revealed and documented as much about ourselves throughout our recent history; our mannerisms, ways of life, and taboos; through comedy, as we have done through literature, art, drama, film, sculpture, poetry, or any other art form that reflects a part of British society that perhaps, through history, has come to define it.
