Do you watch stand-up comedy? Who are your favorite comedians? What do you like about them?
Have you ever wondered how much of the stories those comics tell are true? If you found out their jokes were based on fictional situations, would that change how you viewed the comedian and their comedy? Why or why not?
In “Lying in Comedy Isn’t Always Wrong, but Hasan Minhaj Crossed a Line,” Jason Zinoman, The Times’s comedy critic, writes about recent revelations that Minhaj stretched the truth in his last two specials:
When I first heard that The New Yorker had published an exposé on the veracity of the stand-up comedy of Hasan Minhaj, I rolled my eyes.
We’re fact-checking jokes now? Come on. Comedy is an art, not an op-ed. And honesty has always struck me as the most overrated virtue in comedy. But Clare Malone’s reporting in the piece is scrupulous and fair, if a little prosecutorial in its focus. It presents more questions than answers and should inspire some rethinking of the muddy relationship between comedy and truth.
Digging into his last two specials, Malone reveals Hasan Minhaj as a comic who leans on fictions to make real-world arguments, putting himself closer to the center of news stories to make him seem more brave or wronged or in danger. To take one example, Minhaj says in “The King’s Jester” (2022) that after the government passed the Patriot Act in the wake of Sept. 11, an undercover F.B.I. informant named Brother Eric had infiltrated his childhood mosque and had dinner at his house. Minhaj recalls how he sniffed him out and, in a prank, asked about getting a pilot’s license, which led to a police officer throwing him against a car.
The New Yorker found that there was such a man working in counterterrorism but that Minhaj never met him. Minhaj defended his fabrications as fibs in service to “emotional truth.” For someone in the running to be the next host of “The Daily Show,” that term sounds a little too much like Kellyanne Conway’s euphemism “alternative facts.”
While stand-up comedy was never expected to be factually accurate, Mr. Zinoman argues, Minhaj’s lying crossed a line:
Lying in comedy isn’t necessarily wrong. But how you lie matters. Minhaj has told a story about his prom date reneging on the day of the dance because her parents didn’t want her seen in photos with a “brown boy.” He now admits to some untruths in this story, but not all, and left her perspective out. (The woman has said she and her family faced online threats for years.) This genre of fiction is a shortcut to sympathy, an unearned tug at the heartstrings. It’s not a capital crime, but it’s an unnecessary and risky one.
Lies involving real people should add a new sense of obligation. The problem with only considering the standard of emotional truth is that it can blind you to the impact on the actual world outside your emotions. You could say that the emotional truth behind the Patriot Act was that the terrorism of Sept. 11 required extreme tactics to feel safe, but that doesn’t make the legislation right. The truth is usually more complex than the way you feel about it.
Watching “The King’s Jester” now hits differently. In some ways, it’s more interesting than the first time I saw it, when it seemed mawkish. Some jokes, like his desperation for social media clout, seem like clues. And others come across as the work of a guilty conscience, like the moment when Minhaj faces the audience and says: “Everything here is built on trust.”
This is the truth. Every comic has an unspoken pact with the audience. The one Seinfeld has is different from Minhaj’s, and part of the reason has nothing to do with their intentions. Whether or not critics like me think authenticity is important, it does matter to the audience. So does honesty. And comics understand that. It’s no accident that many of the political comedians working today, especially on television, employ researchers from traditional news sources. Getting facts right matters, especially when the comedy is about grave social issues.
That’s not just because a comic’s credibility can take a hit. When stories told about racism, religious profiling or transgender identity are exposed as inventions, that can lead to doubt about the experiences of real people.
Students, read the entire article and then tell us:
Are you a fan of Hasan Minhaj? Were you surprised to learn that some of the stories he has shared in his stand-up aren’t true? Does this information change how you think about him and his comedy at all?
Mr. Zinoman said that Minhaj’s fabrications went too far. Do you agree with his argument? Why or why not?
Mr. Zinoman writes, “Whether or not critics like me think authenticity is important, it does matter to the audience. So does honesty.” How much does authenticity and honesty matter to you when it comes to comedy?
As Mr. Zinoman writes, many comedians make up stories for their stand-up. When, if ever, do you think lying in comedy crosses a line? When it involves a real person? When it presents news and facts as a journalist would, like in “The Daily Show”? When it is about “grave social issues” such as racism, religious profiling or transgender identity? What matters and why?
The fact that Minhaj made up stories in his last two specials has now made headlines in at least two major news sources. How much should we care whether comedians lie? Why?
Have you ever stretched the truth, or even told an outright lie, to get a laugh? Given what you’ve reflected on today — about when lying in comedy crosses a line — do you think what you did was OK? Why or why not?
Students 13 and older in the United States and Britain, and 16 and older elsewhere, are invited to comment. All comments are moderated by the Learning Network staff, but please keep in mind that once your comment is accepted, it will be made public and may appear in print.
Find more Student Opinion questions here. Teachers, check out this guide to learn how you can incorporate these prompts into your classroom.
