Your Cart is Empty
By Marisa Hirschfield ‘27
Last year, for a comedy show on campus, I wrote a sketch about the fictional Society to Lessen Unamerican Teaching (note the acronym), a group that wants to rewrite history textbooks in Florida. In the skit, the characters pitch ridiculous falsehoods about American history (e.g., Hillary Clinton wrote the Communist Manifesto and also brought smallpox to the New World). My intention was to satirize classroom censorship of historical injustice and expose the absurdity of legislation like the “Don’t Say Gay” bill, which shapes curricula in a politically-pointed way.
The sketch was rehearsed and staged, but the night before the opening performance, it was cut from the show. I was told: “it reads poorly due to global events” – the global events were not specified to me.
As much as I’d like to wallow in resentment, I understand the decision: jokes are inherently ambiguous, and when misinterpreted, they have the potential to cause harm. A joke meant to ridicule some stereotype may inadvertently perpetuate it, depending on the set-up and delivery, the sensibilities of the audience, and, yes, recent global events.
But I believe censorship is still the wrong choice.
Comedy is inherently edgy and disruptive, and when done well, it can elevate consciousness by way of controversy. It’s a unique form of expression because it has a built-in feedback mechanism. Joke-tellers instantaneously know how their speech lands by whether or not the audience laughs, making third-party censorship (producers, the government, et. al) less needed as speech czars. If a joke is not well-received, the comedian is disincentivized from trying it again. An audience's reaction to a bad joke – in-person or online – can moderate speech that appears too transgressive.
By parsing funny from offensive jokes, everyone involved in the comedy experience has the opportunity to refine their moral palette. When a comedian tells a joke, he or she tacitly takes a stance about what is permissible to say. The audience, then, has the choice to endorse the joke and its underlying message, or hold the comic's feet to the fire – by not laughing, by tweeting in disdain, or by taking their business elsewhere. In this way, comedy is an implicit exchange of ideas about right and wrong. Together, the audience and comic create a make-shift moral barometer.
But what if this barometer is faulty? What if an unambiguously problematic joke does elicit laughter because of the moral twistedness of the audience?
There are people who enjoy what scholars call disparagement humor, a strand of comedy that aims to denigrate and mock individuals or social groups in ways that are unequivocally harmful. Bad jokes like these, when left unchecked, have adverse effects: social psychologists have reported that exposure to sexist humor creates tolerance for sexist events when the viewer already has antagonist attitudes towards women.
“By communicating derision of women in a light-hearted or jovial manner,” writes researcher Thomas E. Ford, “sexist humor expands the bounds of appropriate conduct in the immediate context, creating a social norm of tolerance of discrimination against women.”
Given these risks, should we permit – that is, not censor – sexist humor? Why keep Dave Chappelle’s transphobic stand-up special on Netflix in the midst of an epidemic of violence against trans people? Why allow Tony Hinchcliffe, who spewed racist jokes at Donald Trump’s Madison Square Garden rally, to have a platform?
I believe that censorship in these cases is still short-sighted and inapt. Though bad jokes might promote behaviors that are inimical to an outgroup’s welfare, censorship can be equally harmful. Suppressing certain speech is fundamentally an undemocratic act, and our democracy’s erosion endangers everyone’s welfare – even if it’s harder to see in real time. Permitting offensive jokes is an unfortunate sacrifice we have to make in order to promote democratic ideals of dissent, critical thinking, and protest without retribution. In the long run, upholding these liberal principles will make us freer and safer than silencing a joke ever could.
Look no further than famous comic Lenny Bruce, who was repeatedly jailed for the “word crimes” of being anti-establishment. His sets fearlessly explored the taboos of the '60s – political corruption, race relations, homosexuality – and for this transgression, he faced criminal charges in four cities. Yes, these audiences were spared his provocative ideas, but at the cost of free speech. That’s a dangerous, misguided trade-off.
In the spirit of Bruce, and at the risk of sounding self-serving, I believe my sketch should have been staged, even if there was a concern about audience misinterpretation, which is always possible with satire.
I don’t know if my jokes were funny, but I know that free expression is a serious matter, and in my case, it was surrendered for fear of offence.
Marisa Hirschfeld ’27 studies History and Creative Writing and is a Princetonians for Free Speech Writing Fellow.
Comments will be approved before showing up.
Prestigious universities and leading state schools across the nation have embraced viewpoint diversity by building new institutions—civic education centers and the like—which are simultaneously on yet apart from the campus. Harvard has quietly taken a different tack. Over the past several months, the university’s top brass have been asking major donors for $10 million gifts to endow new professorships under the banner of “viewpoint diversity.” Provost John Manning, a scholar often associated with the conservative legal movement, has led the effort, aiming to place between 20 and 30 new faculty across schools and departments rather than siloed in a standalone institute.
Why Harvard would need additional funding for this is an open question, but putting that partly aside, we ought to ask what to make of this unique initiative. It stands a chance of being either the most consequential reform attempt in elite higher education this decade, or a sophisticated piece of reputation management serving double duty as a clever fundraiser. Which one it turns out to be depends on whether Harvard has thought carefully about what viewpoint diversity means, and whether it intends to execute in line with a considered answer.
Are some schools better at fostering intellectual diversity than others? The study clearly reveals that the most elite universities are among those with the least ideological diversity. Princeton is ranked 13 out of the 55 in the study, with its faculty slightly more ideologically diverse than, for instance, UC Berkeley, Brown, Dartmouth and Harvard, and slightly less diverse than Stanford, Cornell, UCLA or Georgetown.
There is little doubt that this study provides another opening for politicians and critics to attack higher education, perhaps in unfair ways. Princeton could help neutralize this by joining those reform-minded university leaders in the now burgeoning effort to regain the public’s trust in higher education.
A federal judge ruled last month that the National Endowment for the Humanities’ (NEH) termination of more than 1,400 grants in April 2025 had violated the Constitution on several counts. Princeton researchers await the effects of the verdict, which ordered that the NEH must rescind its termination notices.
