Q&A: Anthony Fowler on the Politics of Comedy

In a fragmented media landscape, political humor is everywhere—but not always where you expect it. Anthony Fowler,Sydney Stein Jr. Professor at the Harris School of Public Policy, studies political behavior, accountability, and the forces that shape democratic life. In this conversation, he discusses how political comedy has evolved in the age of YouTube and podcasts, what makes humor persuasive—or not—and why countercultural voices may now come from new directions. 

Some people say this is a dark time for comedy, especially political comedy. Do you agree? 

Not really—but the landscape has certainly evolved.

There’s no longer a single show or host that everyone watches. While there’s no modern-day Johnny Carson and people might feel like comedy has faded, it’s just dispersed. You can find political humor across the ideological spectrum on YouTube, podcasts, stand-up stages, social media, and possibly your Thanksgiving dinner table.  

There may be more comedic voices than ever. It’s less centralized, but that’s not necessarily bad. People can find the voices that resonate with them, and comedians can reach audiences directly without a network executive deciding what’s acceptable. 

What do you make of President Donald Trump’s use of humor and his appearances with online comedians and other podcasters? 

President Trump’s a fascinating case. He’s not funny in the same way that a stand-up comedian is, and he often makes cheap jokes at the expense of others. But like many other gifted politicians and television personalities, he has genuine comedic instincts—timing, exaggeration, occasional self-awareness—and he uses humor strategically. He’s part politician, part performer, and it’s one reason he commands so much media attention. 

At the same time, humor can create ambiguity. It lets politicians dodge hard questions or soften controversial messages—something all politicians try to do, but Trump is unusually good at it.

What’s interesting is that his jokes often still have policy content. When he posts something that seems childish or unpresidential, he’s usually still making a political point, just in an unconventional way. Think of the images of ever-expanding sombreros on Hakeem Jeffries and Chuck Schuster he’s posting online: he’s attempting to tie it to a policy disagreement relating to healthcare for immigrants and questioning their loyalties. It’s unseemly but sends a political message. 

Who’s doing political satire well right now? 

Personally, I think a lot of mainstream political comedy got worse during the Trump years. Early on, the hosts of mainstream political comedy shows like John Oliver, Samantha Bee, and Trevor Noah had clever takes on the absurdity of Trump’s rise. But once he was elected, the tone of a lot of the shows became angrier, more repetitive, and less surprising. The fifth “Trump is orange” joke just isn’t funny—you need something new and unpredictable. 

Good comedy needs surprise. If you can always predict the punchline, it stops being entertaining. That’s why some of the independent creators on YouTube—people like Ryan Long, Danny Polishchuk, Kyle Dunnigan, and Kurt Metzger—are so entertaining. They make fun of everyone. They’re free to say and do things that wouldn’t be allowed by the producers of mainstream networks. You don’t always know where they’re coming from politically, and that unpredictability makes the humor work. 

Is right-leaning or more conservative comedy on the rise now, especially on YouTube? 

Comedy tends to be countercultural. For a long time, that meant making fun of buttoned-up conservative authority—church leaders, CEOs, pro-business politicians. Twenty years ago, people like George W. Bush, Billy Graham, Bill O’Reilly, and Rush Limbaugh were powerful and influential, and comedic performers like Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, and Lewis Black were funny and popular because they pushed back, satirized, and made insightful criticisms.  

But the cultural balance of power has shifted. Today, elites in media, universities, and entertainment lean left, and they determine what is supposed to be acceptable. So now, some of the funniest and most countercultural performers are coming from perspectives that are libertarian (e.g., Andrew Heaton), conservative (e.g., The Babylon Bee), or anti-establishment (e.g., Jimmy Dore). 

Shows like South Park have managed to stay relevant because they’ve always targeted whoever holds cultural power, whether that’s Christian conservatives who think pulling a feeding tube is murder or smug liberals who think they’re better than everyone else because they drive a hybrid. They’re not loyal to a side; they’re loyal to the joke. 

Late-night comedy has been in turmoil, with declining ratings and high-profile firings and suspensions. What do you think is happening there? 

The traditional late-night format has always been constrained. It’s built for a mass audience, so it rewards safe, middle-of-the-road humor. You tell a few jokes, plug a movie, avoid controversy, and make sure you don’t upset your producers. Many of the hosts of these shows are genuinely talented and funny, but they’re not as funny in that structure than they are in freer formats. 

Now, with streaming and social media, people don’t need to tune in at 10:30 to hear what a comedian thinks about the news. They can watch something sharper or stranger anytime they want. The result is that late-night shows have become both more partisan and less funny—often looking for claps rather than laughs. They’re chasing relevance, but the medium itself, not edgy to begin with, is even less so now.

Beyond entertainment value, does political comedy actually matter for democracy? 

I think it does. First, it matters intrinsically—being able to make fun of our leaders is a democratic right and a healthy cultural outlet. But there’s also an informational dimension. Not everyone tunes into the evening news, but almost everyone consumes comedy and entertainment in some way. Comedy can alert people to real events or scandals they might otherwise not know about. 

Research has shown that in the 1990s,  late-night monologues were a significant source of political knowledge for many Americans. Of course, the danger is when comedians blur the line between satire and fact. If you’re asserting something as true, you have some responsibility to get it right, even if you’re a comedian. It’s a tricky balance between freedom and accountability. 

That line between comedy and commentary is perhaps more blurred than ever before. Jimmy Kimmel was recently criticized and suspended not because of a joke but because he made an unfounded assertion about Charlie Kirk’s murderer. Comedians like Joe Rogan and Bill Maher have arguably become more influential for their political commentary than for their jokes. And political commentators often wade into the realm of comedy and satire. For example, conservative commentator Matt Walsh has made two comedic movies—in the style of Sasha Baron Cohen and Nathan Fielder—that poke fun at the leading left-wing perspectives on race and gender. These art forms—comedians engaged in commentary and commentators engaged in comedy—can be entertaining and valuable for democracy. But the performers and audience members should be careful not to conflate the two. Those engaged in commentary should be careful not to mislead the public. Those engaged in comedy should be funny, and it should be obvious (at least to most reasonable people) that they’re doing comedy.

What would you be most interested in studying about political comedy?

One interesting area of study is how much real political information people get from comedic shows—and whether that information changes minds or just reinforces existing beliefs.

Another is how partisanship affects credibility. There’s some evidence that overtly political messaging, even when it aligns with your side, can reduce trust in the messenger. Perhaps when the audience can’t tell whether you’re joking or preaching, it stops working as either. And then, more philosophically, what actually makes political comedy work? Surprise, credibility, honesty, timing—those are all essential. But it would be fascinating to study how those qualities interact with political context, and how humor both reflects and reshapes our civic life. 

Any final thoughts on what this all says about politics today? 

Some of the people shaping political discourse today—podcasters, comedians, even trolls—reach bigger audiences than traditional politicians. That’s not entirely new, but the scale is unprecedented. 

At its best, political comedy can expose hypocrisy, inform the public, and remind us not to take ourselves too seriously. At its worst, it can harden divisions or mislead the public. It seems to work best when it’s unpredictable, self-aware, humble, and free of pandering.