Normalization of Humor and Layered Vulnerability

LAUGHTER erupted from hundreds of attendees at an Islamic study event.

In a video that quickly circulated on social media, a prominent speaker cracked a crisp joke targeting an elderly woman in front of him.

For some, this scene seemed normal—merely a stage spice to keep the audience engaged.

However, for the more discerning public, there was a lingering discomfort.

We witnessed how the vulnerability of an elderly mother was stripped bare before the public eye for the sake of shared laughter.

This issue extends beyond mere bad taste in humor. Beneath the uproar of laughter lies a far more concerning cultural mechanism— the normalization of derogatory humor.

Renowned French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu has long warned about the dangers of symbolic violence— a subtle form of oppression that operates without physical coercion, instead infiltrating social agreements and norms that are taken for granted.

In stage communication, belittlement and prejudice are often smuggled in through informal discourse plays.

The magical phrase "it’s just a joke" quickly becomes a potent linguistic shield, dulling moral sensibility and disqualifying criticisms.

When such jokes are repeatedly celebrated without a moment of reflection, the boundaries of cultural propriety gradually shift.

The public is led to accept that belittling others is perfectly fine, as long as it is wrapped in the silk of laughter.

Intersectionality Reality

Public jokes become even more problematic when we consider who is on the receiving end of that laughter.

The person being ridiculed is not a peer with equivalent social capital but rather an elderly woman from the lower class.

At this point, social analysis requires examining it through the lens of intersectionality, a theoretical framework articulated by critical legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw.

Crenshaw asserts that discrimination and oppression rarely affect someone in isolation.

Social vulnerability works like a crossroads, where various layers of identity, gender, age, and socioeconomic class intersect.

In a cultural framework still steeped in patriarchy, women are often placed in subordinate positions.

This vulnerability multiplies as old age begins to steal physical vitality, intermingling with a marginalized social class background.

The elderly woman on that stage is a mirror reflecting a condition of layered vulnerability.

She does not hold the microphone, lacks the space to defend herself, and has lost the agency to articulate her self-worth in front of the cameras.

As feminist philosopher Audre Lorde reminds us, differences in identity should create spaces for mutual growth and care, not domination.

Yet, the opposite occurs. Instead of being treated with the honor that elevates the elderly in eastern cultures, this existential vulnerability of the elderly woman is devalued and commodified as a tool for entertainment.

Public laughter is ultimately produced in the most primitive way: by mocking those who are least able to fight back.

Power Relations and Pulpit Ripple Effects

This cultural inequality becomes even clearer when we examine the power relations on stage.

The speaker stands tall with charismatic authority, controlling the microphone and the psychological atmosphere of thousands of attendees who regard him with reverence.

As explained by Teun A. van Dijk in critical discourse analysis, the symbolic power of elite groups operates through total control over access to public discourse.

Those who hold the podium possess the privilege to dictate definitions, representations, and moral boundaries of who deserves praise and who can be laughed at.

In this imbalanced discourse atmosphere, the stage subtly splits into two contrasting poles.

The "us" (in-group), empowered, superior, and entitled to laugh, and the "other" across the way, alienated, submissive, and open to mockery.

The issue is compounded because the speaker is not a circus clown, but rather an authority figure with moral religious authority.

Recent studies on hate speech and abusive behavior remind us of the danger of ripple effects instigated by influential figures' statements.

When a role model easily belittles a vulnerable group from an esteemed pulpit, their words act like an unwritten edict that seeps into the cognitive realm of the congregation.

Unknowingly, the public receives social legitimacy to replicate similar attitudes in daily interactions.

Negative prejudices that once lingered in private now find justification in public.

Mocking fragile older adults becomes normalized, even sacred, because it occurs in a religious study gathering.

The uproar doesn’t stop at the bounds of the tent. Once the snippets hit cyberspace, social media algorithms hungry for controversial content immediately latch on.

The modern digital space transforms the degradation of dignity that begins on the local stage into viral content consumed en masse.

What may have only been a fleeting moment of laughter for the speaker manifests in cyberspace as a digital footprint that solidifies stigma and amplifies humanitarian wounds across regions and generations.

Certainly, living together would feel frozen without humor. Laughter is a gift of humanity that nourishes the mind and dismantles social rigidity.

However, there exists a distinct chasm between liberating humor and oppressive humor.

Decent humor typically laughs at the arrogance of power, the deceit of the elite, or the irony of our shared fate—not at those struggling with the burdens of old age and poverty.

The religious pulpit should remain a prophetic oasis that steadfastly upholds the dignity of humanity, especially for the needy who often get cast aside by time.

Maintaining the decency of this republic begins with the clarity of conscience among public discourse speakers: that the spiritual maturity and nobility of a nation are never measured by the exuberance of laughter echoed in religious gatherings, but rather by how sincerely society embraces and honors its most vulnerable citizens.