Max Bryer '08 gets one thing very correct in his recent op-ed ("Over the Line," Feb. 9). The Nazis were bad people who did bad things. That's precisely why I have always been fascinated by those who take offense to anti-Nazi jokes.
The topic of any joke is likely to be something very dear to someone somewhere. And when you portray a sensitive subject in a comic light, it's possible to hurt someone's feelings. The easiest way to circumvent offense is for the joker to identify with the punchline. A Pole is generally allowed to make jokes about Poles, because then it becomes a matter of self-directed humor. (I myself am of half-Polish, half-German descent. Talk about internal conflict.)
When offense does occur, those offended are typically members of, or sympathizers with, the group being joked about. Jokes about Jesus offend devout Christians. Jokes about Jews are more likely to offend Jews. (Jokes about the Polish don't offend anybody. We Poles are too dumb to realize what's going on, and no one sympathizes with us.)
But who gets offended by jokes about Nazis? Nazi sympathizers? Last I checked, no one was writing op-eds to say, "I'm offended by this joke because it shows mein Fuehrer in a negative and stereotypical light."
It's a fascinating paradox. Bryer defends the humorist in question when he says, "I don't believe that this... is the work of some hardcore Nazi sympathizer," whereas if the joke in question were about African-Americans, he might say, "I'm sure the author has plenty of respect for blacks; however..." Similarly, people such as Bryer take offense to Nazi humor not to defend the Third Reich, but to preserve the dignity of its victims. (I sympathize as much as Bryer does. My own great-grandfather died in a concentration camp. He fell from the guard tower.)
Those offended by anti-Nazi humor would do well to take note that imitation is sometimes the sincerest form of parody or insult, not flattery. Some of the greatest comedians of the past century had great success making a mockery of Nazi Germany. Consider Charlie Chaplin's "The Great Dictator," nominated for five Academy Awards, Walt Disney's Academy-Award winning Donald Duck cartoon "Der Fuehrer's Face," and Mel Brooks' screen-to-stage-to-screen hit "The Producers."
No one is out to defend Nazis with humor, only cut them down to size. In light of this, Nazis should be the easiest target in the world for jokers! You can say pretty much anything derogatory you want about Nazis without worrying about hurting Hitler's feelings. Go ahead: Lampoon the heck out of them!
Humor is a coping mechanism. The Holocaust was a tragedy, but does that mean we have to live our lives in sadness and anger? Bryer says that Nazis are evil, no doubt with a frown on his face. Why is it so taboo to say Nazis are evil while laughing?
People don't like things that make them unhappy. If the public is not allowed to cope, to come to terms with the atrocities of the past in their own way -- with humor or with tears -- they may grow so tired of being constantly told how to represent their feelings that they stop caring about the issue altogether. And therein lies the road to forgetting history.
And sure, the Himmler profile that so upset Bryer might not be classic comedy on the scale of Brooks' "Springtime for Hitler." But if it helps a few people to insinuate that the architect of the Holocaust is a chronic masturbator, then more power to them.
Since the publication of Bryer's column, the Himmler profile has been removed from Facebook.com. But people will continue to make fun of the Nazis, because, quite frankly, it's the right thing to do. We can't be afraid to face the past, and humor makes the past all the more accessible.
To quote Mel Brooks: "Rhetoric does not get you anywhere, because Hitler and Mussolini are just as good at rhetoric. But if you can bring these people down with comedy, they stand no chance."
