Laughing at the Empire: The Politics of Absurd Resistance
When the empire insists on being serious, ridicule becomes revolution.
Written by Rebecca M. Bell, Editor-in-Chief of The Literary Resistance 🛎️
America’s Got You Down? Try Weaponized Absurdity.
I. The Theater of Power
Authoritarianism is nothing if not theatrical. Its uniforms are pressed with military starch, its parades choreographed to the inch, its speeches delivered with the certainty of divine decree. The regime thrives on performance—on the illusion that power is sacred, inevitable, untouchable.
But every performance is vulnerable to heckling. Laughter punctures the stage lights. Absurdity drags the emperor’s robe into the fluorescent glow of a cheap costume. Where authoritarianism demands reverence, ridicule becomes its undoing.
II. The History of the Ridiculous
Absurd resistance is not a 21st-century TikTok invention; it is a lineage of wit weaponized.
In 1980s Poland, the Orange Alternative staged dwarf parades under martial law. “Long live the dwarves!” was not just a joke but a refusal to play the script of fear.
In Serbia, activists rolled a barrel painted with Milošević’s face into a square and vanished. Citizens took turns striking it with sticks until the police arrived. When officers hauled away the barrel, power itself became a punchline.
Such moments remind us: satire does not trivialize oppression; it reveals its fragility.
III. America’s Stage in 2025
Today, America teeters on the edge of farce and nightmare. A president salutes like Mussolini at noon and stumbles down golf cart ramps by dusk. Federal agencies release propaganda that reads more like parody than policy. Police in tactical cosplay prowl neighborhoods as if filming a low-budget dystopian sequel.
The absurd is already here. The question is whether the people will recognize it as an opportunity.
IV. Why Absurdity Works
It destabilizes gravitas. Fear is useful to authoritarians; laughter is fatal. No tyrant can remain untouchable while being memed into slapstick.
It spreads virally. A meme, a dance, a parody edit reaches further than a manifesto. Absurdity democratizes resistance.
It lowers the threshold for action. Not everyone will risk arrest, but many will share a satirical post, don a costume, or shout a nonsense chant. Resistance becomes participatory.
V. A Manual for the Absurd
Consider this less a manifesto than a field guide. If democracy collapses under the weight of solemn parades, it may be absurdity that reopens the streets.
Mock the symbols. Red hats become glitter wigs; uniforms are mirrored with clown noses.
Dance in defiance. A Cha Cha Coup outside the Capitol reframes protest as choreography. “Everybody clap your hands” becomes insurrection by syncopation.
Overcomply to expose the farce. When gatherings of more than three are banned, assemble in groups of three—each holding signs that read: TOTALLY LEGAL.
Hijack the slogans. “Law and Order” remixed into Law & Order’s “DUN DUN” sting until propaganda collapses into television parody.
Invite replication. Graffiti a symbol, circulate a meme, create acts so simple that others cannot resist joining. Absurdity thrives on multiplication.
VI. The Risks and the Reward
Do not mistake this for harmless play. Authoritarians know ridicule is lethal to their authority. Arrests will follow. Memes will be censored. Clown noses will be confiscated. Good. Every crackdown on silliness reveals insecurity. Nothing weakens a regime faster than proving it cannot take a joke.
And yet the reward is momentum. Each absurd act chips away at inevitability. Once people see power mocked, they see it is not divine—it is human, brittle, fallible.
VII. Conclusion
Absurd resistance is not escapism. It is survival by satire, dissent by derision, rebellion by ridicule. It tells citizens: you do not need tanks to oppose tyranny—sometimes you only need a joke too strange to be ignored.
If future readers should stumble across this essay in a dusty anthology, know this: we laughed not because it was funny, but because it was necessary.
For those alive today: America’s stage is set. Bring your frying pans. Bring your bubble machines. Bring your jokes sharp enough to cut steel.
And remember—the empire wants silence. Absurdity makes noise too strange to suppress.
From the desk of the Department of Bad Ideas,
—Rebecca M. Bell
www.rmbellwrites.com
