Jane Goodall, authority, and the need to laugh

Opinion

There were all sorts of weighty topics competing for space in this column. But then Jane Goodall died, and thankfully my reset button was pressed.

I didn’t meet Jane, but friends of mine did. Their warm memories (and grief) spilled out across my various social media feeds, along with videos of her encounters with both apes and reporters.

The warmth of those recollections was tied to humour, as well as personal inspiration. Despite Jane’s serious warnings about the social and ecological problems we face, my friends only remembered funny stories and her spontaneous laughter. She would often remind her audience that we are all animals, and animals love to play.

I needed that reset, because I have spent the last couple of weeks fuming about institutional bullying, or what I started to call “the petty tyrannies of arbitrary authority.” Whether it was U.S. President Donald Trump and his minions chortling about blowing up Venezuelan fishing boats, or Israel’s Netanyahu enthusing about blasting more of Gaza into rubble, it is all bullying writ large.

On a whim, they have decided to flaunt their power, choosing as their victim someone who likely can’t fight back.

Too often, that abuse of authority is about little stuff, petty things that can irritate the victim, but not to the point they will react. Taunting, tormenting, reminding someone else “who’s the boss?” But the pressure of all that small stuff builds within us, until finally something that is (objectively) minor triggers a disproportionate response.

We could call it “the Popeye Effect,” for those readers who are old enough to remember that familiar punchline (pun intended): “I’ve had all I can stands, and I can’t stands no more!” A can of spinach later, Bluto the bully is socked into the middle of next week, and Olive Oyl is rescued once again.

Adult bullying often involves the arbitrary use of authority. We obviously need people in charge, but the expectation (and trust) is that our bosses are using their authority wisely, with the best interests of everyone in mind. It is not wielded on a whim, whenever someone feels like it, against whoever they choose in the moment.

Everywhere I looked, I found evidence of this arbitrary use of authority, however. The pressure was building, and I was ready to pull a Popeye against some obvious Blutos, when I watched Jane and her chimps, and laughed instead.

Humour is a great safety valve. Trump may feel threatened enough by Democratic leaders to deploy the National Guard against their cities. Or by the top military brass, who were dragged from everywhere to Quantico to be lectured in person by Pete Hegseth, the Secretary of Manly War, and then by the president, in a performance everyone else watched online.

But Trump and his Trumpites are most afraid of comedians who point out the absurdities of this arbitrary authority — just how far this administration has strayed from the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.

Gilding the Oval Office and governing from the golf course will not long impress the average American, who faces rising costs, disappearing medical care, and job insecurity. If Popeye ever gets a good look at what Oligarchs, Unlimited are really doing to Olive Oyl and her future, then Bluto will be in big trouble!

So, despite all the abuse they receive at the hands of Trumpites, those comedians offer a safety valve, a way collectively to blow off steam. Bullies are given the chance to see themselves in the mirror, and (perhaps?) change their tyrannical behaviour before the only option left involves spinach.

Humour helps to reset the balance we all need to keep, when the pressure builds up in our lives and unexpected problems appear.

Lately, I have been grumbling about employers bullying all their employees back to in-person work. Many jobs need to be done that way, but not all. If your job can be done well from home, then coercing you to commute only costs you time and money, and damages the planet.

It makes no sense. Supervisors can already monitor employees working at home. Productivity will go down, not up, as commuting to use office computers takes its toll on health and wellness. “Commute or quit” bullying means that the good employees will likely resign the first chance they get, leaving for an employer who actually cares.

Then, it hit me. I realized in-person meetings have one obvious advantage, whether dealing with workers or generals — a reason that makes monkeys of us all:

Meetings smell. In person, you can’t escape the odour of dominance, the smell of authority. Literally, a whiff of who the boss is around here.

That made me think of Jane Goodall, how her primates tended to behave, and her likely smile at such an apt (aped?) comparison.

So, instead of eating spinach, I laughed.

Peter Denton writes from his home in rural Manitoba.