Democracy is facing a stress test — including in Germany. Its foundations are being increasingly challenged and undermined from within. In times like these, is the idea of humorous protest naïve or even irresponsible? Not at all. This is powerfully demonstrated not only by mass demonstrations in the streets, but especially by migrant comedians, who use humor as a tool to carve out space for serious political expression and resistance.
When I received the request for this text, I was skeptical. Democracies were in an existential crisis, it was said, and elections would strengthen forces that wanted to abolish democratic principles. So far, so good. But: in times of crisis, people resort to one tool in particular to protest against such developments: humor. Hmm...A film by Woody Allen states: “Comedy is tragedy plus time.” But what happens when time seems to stand still? As if caught in a fever dream, we find ourselves trapped in a relentless loop of grim headlines: wars and crises everywhere, the steady rise of democracy’s adversaries, my upcoming dental implant, you name it.
Can humor as a means of protest still reach anyone at all? It certainly can! I quickly realized that humor is, above all, a powerful way to turn inwards, even if tragedy persists. I know this from my own experience: it empowers protestors and, at its best, encourages sympathizers to join in. Laughter liberates and takes away the power of fear – much to the frustration of those who wield fear as a political weapon. Psychologists agree: humor strengthens mental resilience! I claim it can do even more: humor is a solidarization engine.
An example: earlier this year, Germany saw mass protests against the rise of right-wing radicalism. This was triggered by some democratic parties casting parliamentary votes alongside the far right, crossing a line many considered untouchable. Amid the outrage, a humorous image began circulating: parents had placed a double-sided sign around their toddler’s neck, front and back, reading,“The resistance is growing.” Rarely has the term running gag been more fitting. It drew laughter on the ground, sparked conversations, and quickly went viral. The image was celebrated online and widely imitated. Et Voilà!
In fact, the internet has become another major stage for humorous protest. Not so much for shitstorms, but for empowerment. And it’s here that a group particularly affected by democracy’s erosion steps into the spotlight.
It is non-white and therefore part of a minority. They are prominent voices with wide reach, holding up a mirror to mainstream society. In addition to their desire for punchlines and good storytelling, they cultivate empathetic activism on social media.
The focus is on artists with what is often referred to as an 'Oriental' migration background. They are representative of millions of people who are often treated differently due to their origin and appearance. They are the primary targets of most domestic political debates. They are at home in Germany, but are increasingly made to feel unwelcome.
Three of them are presented here as examples. I don't always share their opinions, but I do share the pain with which they look at today's world:
Enissa Amani, born in Tehran in 1981, comedian and activist. Her parents were leftists who were politically persecuted and fled to Germany. In 2018, she was the first German stand-up comedian with her own special on Netflix. In an interview at that time, she said about herself: "I like being a feminine woman. At home, I keep a rap album on the shelf next to books by Voltaire and Bobbi Brown's make-up instructions." She has made her voice unmistakably heard on talk shows, addressing topics like right-wing extremism, racism, and misogyny. What sets her apart: Feminist humor with an intellectual underpinning designed to empower marginalized communities. Sometimes polemically provocative, almost always in high heels.
Tahsim Durgun, class of 1995, content creator from Lower Saxony, with a Yazidi-Kurdish background and parents hailing from Turkey. As a student training to become a teacher, he recently wrote his first book: “Mama, please learn German.” It topped the bestseller lists for weeks and has the subtitle “Our attempt to integrate into a shut society.” He shows that many children of migrants have to take on responsibility earlier than their non-migrant friends – and what this does to them. What sets him apart is his humor, which exposes structural injustices in everyday life and moves between social criticism, self-irony and a loving mockery of his families' quirks. All from the endless rabbit hole of German grammar.
And last but not least, Abdul Kader Chahin, born in 1993 to Palestinian parents in North Rhine-Westphalia. His sound is the charming, rough slang of the Ruhr Valley, an old mining region in western Germany. In videos, podcasts, and on stage, the comedian and poetry slammer addresses his childhood in a low-income mass housing complex, racist experiences, and the banalities of everyday life. Since October 7, 2023, he has been a guest on talk shows, where he is one of the few to address the suffering of the Palestinians without concealing that of the Israelis. What sets him apart: raw humor with heart and attitude, deeply rooted in the reality of life for migrant families in the 'Ruhrpott' (Ruhr Valley).
On social media, they have a combined total of over two million followers. Beyond the usual hate speech from predictable corners of the comment sections, many users respond with gratitude, engage in discussion, and encourage one another.
Amani, Durgun, and Chahin embody what contemporary protest against injustice can sound like: humorous — but never harmless. Their punchlines are not a distraction from important issues, but an invitation to debate. Their humor creates spaces in which topics can be openly discussed and protest can take shape. They shine a light on what is often overlooked or ignored. What they do is political – in the best sense of the word. not in spite of their jokes, but because of them.
In the end, all my initial skepticism has vanished. Whether its impact is inward or outward, humor remains a powerful companion to protest — even in these dystopian times. Hopefully the synergy will extend to me and my dental implant, too.
Well, by the end, there’s nothing left of my initial skepticism — on two levels. Whether its impact is inward or outward, even in times that feel almost dystopian, humor and protest still make a powerful match. Hopefully, the same goes for me and my dental implant.