Groucho Gets No Marks

With the curbs being proposed for satirising and cartooning politicians, I am reminded of my brief sojourn in Seychelles where I was invited to act as a consultant to the government may years ago. I recall being invited to a meal by none other than Francois Rene, then the President of the Republic.

Rene, for those who are not familiar, was a colourful character-multiple marriages with children between the ages of 3 to 45 years! He believed in enjoying life to the fullest, and Seychelles afforded him an opportunity to do so. He wanted to be in regular touch with his electorate and had left strict instructions that all his mail was to be attended to and opened by him personally. More important to me, he was a very gracious host and made me feel completely at ease in no time.

During the course of our conversation he mentioned that he had trained initially as a Catholic priest. Later on he was called to the Bar and then plunged full time into politics.

Curious, I could not resist asking him the reasons for his very tortuous journey into politics. His response was spontaneous and memorable.

“Dr Prasad, once I became a priest, after a short time I discovered that I was lying more than a priest should. Therefore I decided to become a lawyer. Two years into my job as a barrister, I suddenly appreciated that the frequency of my lying made me unsuitable to function as a barrister. So here I am.”

It was an irreverent brand of self-deprecation in the lightest mode. More than once I have been reminded of this interaction when I have observed the pomposity that rules the portals of our Parliament today. For many, Rene was not even a democrat in the strictest sense of the word. He was the country’s first Prime Minister who overthrew the first President, James Mancham, while he was attending the Commonwealth conference in London. Yes, it was a coup! Later on, he validated his position by winning the successive presidential elections.

The reason I feel constrained to share this experience is that absence of humour is an indication of deep-seated insecurity. And I am dismayed to note this absence in so many insecure individuals, who are theoretically meant to accord us a feeling of security.

Nowhere is it more obvious than the manner in which they have been sending privilege notices to people like Arvind Kejriwal and others, hounding academics, demoralising respected educationalists like Yogendra Yadav, Mrinal Miri and others. It certainly does not bode very well.

During my short stay in Australia I recall the following passage that was published either in The Australian or The Age – I am not sure, but this is the excerpt.

While walking down the street one day, a female senator is tragically hit by a truck and dies. Her soul arrives in heaven and is met by St Peter at the entrance. “Welcome to Heaven”, says St Peter. “Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we’re not sure what to do with you.”

“No problem, just let me in”, says the lady.

“Well, I’d like to but I have orders from higher up. What we’ll do is have you spend one day in Hell and one in Heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity.”

“Really? I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven”, says the senator.

“I’m sorry but we have our rules…” And with that, St Peter escorts her to the elevator and she goes down, down, down to Hell. The doors open and she finds herself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a club and standing in front of it are all her friends and other politicians who had worked with her, everyone is very happy and in evening dress.

They run to greet her, hug her, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at expense of the people. They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar. Also present is the Devil, who really is a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes.

They are having such a good time that, before she realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives her a big hug and waves while the elevator rises. The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on Heaven where St Peter is waiting for her.

“Now it’s time to visit Heaven.”

So 24 hours pass with the senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before she realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St Peter returns.

“Well then, you’ve spent a day in Hell and another in Heaven. Now choose your eternity.” She reflects for a minute, then the senator answers: “Well, I would never have said it, I mean Heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in Hell.”

So St Peter escorts her to the elevator and she goes down, down, down to Hell. Now the doors of the elevator open and she is in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. She sees all her friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. The Devil comes over to her and lays his arm on her neck. “I don’t understand”, stammers the senator. “Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and club and we ate lobster and caviar and danced and had a great time. Now all there is a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable.”

The Devil looks at her, smiles and says, “Yesterday we were campaigning. Today you voted for us.”

Politicians should realise that irreverent humour serves to connect them better to their constituents. Every successful statesman all over the world that I can think of globally was endowed with an abundant sense of humour. Which is what makes me believe that this brand of tongue-in-cheek is a sine qua non if we wish to make statesmen out of our politicians. Humour necessarily has to be self-deprecatory and enable both the person against whom it is directed and the person initiating it to participate in the fun. It is not that Indian statesmen were devoid of this quality-C. Rajagopalachari’s wit was legendary. And the Mahatma could always make the other person feel at ease by utilising humour. Sardar Patel was known to poke fun at himself at every gathering-and people loved him for that.

Globally, Churchill’s humour was what helped him win over his adversaries. They disliked his policies but warmed upto him. Roosevelt and DeGaulle were known to ease a tense situation by humour alone. And more recently, Denis Healey with his marvellous gift of vituperation and self-deprecation could have the entire House in stitches. He was head and shoulders above his opponent in the Tory Party, Geoffrey Howe, so much so that Bernard Weatherill the Speaker in a TV interview remarked that Denis Healey’s contributions to world peace were rare moments when he was not pulverising Geoffrey Howe. I still recall him stating,“To be attacked by Geofrrey Howe was akin to being savaged by a dead sheep.”

I would contend that Margaret Thatcher could never be elevated to the Valhalla of statesmen as she lacked humour. She used to get angry when Neil Kinnock used to poke fun at her.

One of the most colourful US politicians was Mo Udall. I can never forget his speech, “A poltician’s prayer should be Gracious Lord make my words soft and tender-for I may have to eat them!”

Surely the current lot of humourless and officious Indo-politicos should learn a thing or two from these people. The interesting feature is that they use the vilest possible insults for each other-but get jumpy when these insults are thrown back at them.

It is a sad commentary indeed!