Any writer worth a damn will tell you that writing short is often a lot harder than writing long. You have to get the pacing, the structure, and the tone just right, but when it hits, it really hits. Capturing something essential about the modern world in 80,000 words is an accomplishment. The Riyadh Comedy Festival manages to do it in four.
The first-of-its-kind event, which is happening this week in Saudi Arabia, has brought some of America’s most famous comics to the autocratic Gulf State. Dave Chappelle, Kevin Hart, and Pete Davidson are there, as is Bill Burr, who once swore off the idea of “going over there and getting kidnapped and getting my head sawed off on fucking YouTube.” But Burr will have to keep those kinds of comments to himself while he’s in Riyadh. An offer shared by the comedian Atsuko Okatsuka (who is not attending), stipulated that participants would not perform perform “any material that may be considered to degrade, defame, or bring into public disrepute, contempt, scandal, embarrassment, or ridicule…The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, including its leadership, public figures, culture, or people” and “The Saudi royal family, legal system, or government.” The whole thing feels like a bit: Did you hear what the anti-censorship guys said to the dictator? Nope.
As a glimpse of the state of mid-career comedians with Netflix specials, it’s quite grim. But the festival tells a story that goes well beyond this particular industry. It’s a stand-in for a broader capitulation to autocracy abroad that mirrors the acquiescence to autocracy here at home.
The whole thing feels like a bit: Did you hear what the anti-censorship guys said to the dictator? Nope.
Saudi Arabia’s strategy for accruing political and economic power under crown prince Muhammad bin Salman is pretty straightforward. It is not just a petro-state anymore. In just the last few years, the kingdom has launched a competitor to the PGA Tour; blown up the finances of European soccer and effectively taken control of FIFA; and cemented itself as a destination for boxing, UFC, and Formula 1. Its annual investor conference, known as “Davos in the Desert,” is a marquee event for that sort of crowd. Saudi Arabia’s sovereign wealth fund, the PIF, is a player in everything from alfalfa to video games to Jared Kushner. For a brief moment, in 2018, it seemed as if the state-sanctioned dismemberment of Washington Post journalist Jamal Khashoggi in Istanbul might cause people to keep their distance, but the assassination turned out to be little more than a blip for many American entertainers and businessmen.
This kind of mass capitulation marks a moral erosion in its own right. But you can also see, in the ways these deals and big events are often discussed, a kind of anti-politics at work. Influential Americans are not just willing to put up with bad state actors, but are genuinely dismissive of the idea that you shouldn’t. Self-respect and standards are weak and woke. It is virtue-signaling to care about dismemberment, or 9/11. This broad acquiescence to the Saudi rebrand reflects an avowed shamelessness couched in a right-wing moral relativism; acknowledging the complexity of the world becomes a way to never have to really believe in anything.
I’m not going to go so far as to say that the Riyadh Comedy Festival or LIV Golf—“Golf, but louder”—explains how Donald Trump got a second term, but I do think these things are on the same continuum. (For one thing, Trump did literally host LIV Golf tournaments.) The lesson is: A lot of Americans just aren’t as opposed to vengeful monarchs as you might have thought. Trump didn’t just rebrand himself via many of the same spectacles MBS embraced—fights, races, football, and “edgy” comedians. Like MBS and the oppressive state over which he presides, his ascent was the product of a lot of powerful people who once denounced him forsaking their purported ideals for an inside shot at a windfall. His movement is powered by a willingness to sell out. In Washington, as in Riyadh, it turns out that persuading people to make peace with an oppressive, anti-democratic regime dominated by an unspeakably wealthy ruling family is not as hard as you might think. All you have to do is make them rich.
This post has been syndicated from Mother Jones, where it was published under this address.