Free Speech in Comedy: What’s at Stake
Rather listen than read? Here is the audio.
Note: This piece looks only at free speech in comedy performance. My broader views are different.
Last week in the US, Jimmy Kimmel Live! was put on hiatus indefinitely. I saw what Kimmel said, and honestly, I’m confused about what the problem was supposed to be. Maybe you agree with him, maybe you don’t. That isn’t the point.
The point is this: comedy — especially topical comedy — needs free speech. Without it, we set a dangerous precedent.
The difference between disagreeing and silencing
I’m not saying all jokes are acceptable. Some are lazy, offensive, or just plain boring. But freedom of speech in comedy isn’t about agreeing with every punchline. It’s about defending the space for those punchlines to exist in the first place.
In the 1980s Jim Davidson said things that today (they were back then too), would rightly get called out — racist gags, homophobic digs, sexist routines. This was the same man who made headlines off-stage for allegedly violent behaviour at home. And yet, there were no mass campaigns to cancel his gigs, we didn’t know about hashtags to contact venues. People who didn’t like him did the simplest thing: they didn’t buy tickets. That didn’t stop Davidson from working, but it also didn’t mean everyone had to sit through his routines.
Compare that to now. When a comic offends, the immediate demand is often for them to be pulled from line-ups, for venues to cut ties, for TV channels to cancel them. I’m not convinced that helps. Cutting off the oxygen, simply not engaging, is often the sharper weapon.
Bringing it up to date: Ricky Gervais
Ricky Gervais is an interesting case. He’s clever enough to subvert expectations. He certainly used to. His early stand-up and The Office made us laugh in uncomfortable ways, shining a light on how people behave, not just what they say.
But now? His repeated trans ‘jokes’ feel tired. Not shocking. Not insightful. To me, it’s lazy joke-writing. The same way a stand-up I liked recently fell back on a stereotype about a type-2 diabetic eating too many sweets. It’s not outrageous; it’s just dull.
And yes, those jokes still get a laugh, but mostly from audiences who like their comedy pre-chewed. It’s the comfort of not having to think, rather than the thrill of something genuinely funny.
So here’s my choice: I won’t pay to see Ricky Gervais live again. I won’t pre-order the book from the comic who bored me with stereotypes. That’s my freedom. But I won’t demand they be cancelled, or that TV networks blacklist them.
Because even if I don’t like the jokes, I defend the right for them to be made.
As Gervais himself posted on Twitter (X) in February 2019:
“If you don’t believe in free speech for people who you disagree with, and even hate for what they stand for, then you don’t believe in free speech.”
He’s right. And yes, that means even defending his own tired jokes.
What we lose without free speech in comedy
Comedy at its best speaks truth to power. That’s why satire matters. It can get under the skin of governments, institutions, and authority in ways a news report never will.
In the UK, we don’t really have late-night topical shows like America’s Saturday Night Live or Jimmy Kimmel Live!. The Graham Norton Show is pure entertainment, where actors tell rehearsed stories and pretend to be shocked that they’re allowed to swear. What we had instead were panel shows and The Mash Report.
The Mash Report was biting satire. It was funny. It was popular. It even managed a whole series filmed remotely from comedians’ homes during Covid. Clips were shared widely online, skewering the news in ways that resonated with younger audiences in particular. And yet, in 2021, the BBC cancelled it. Officially, it was “to make room for new comedy.” In reality, many believe it was because it spoke truth to power, and the Conservative government of the time didn’t like that. The new BBC director general, Tim Davie, a Conservative Party donor, was installed, and suddenly The Mash Report and other political comedy formats were gone.
The right-wing press tried to spin it as “it just wasn’t funny” — the same phrase I’m now hearing about Jimmy Kimmel. But if it wasn’t funny, why did another channel pick it up? Why did the clips still fly around social media? The “not funny” argument is always wheeled out when the real problem is that the jokes landed a little too close to home.
My own limits
This doesn’t mean I think comedians should be immune to consequences. If a comic crosses my personal line, I stop supporting them. If their jokes are lazy, I won’t buy tickets. If their humour feels mean-spirited, I’ll turn over. That’s how free speech works: they speak, I respond, but I don’t silence.
Because when you shut down the bad, you also shut down the good. And comedy is often the route into conversations we need to have.
The bigger picture
What’s happening in America with Kimmel and Stephen Colbert has already happened in the UK, just more quietly. Satire is pared back. Panel shows are blander. Have I Got News for You, once sharp, now feels like a shadow of itself. We let it happen,
Freedom of speech in comedy matters because otherwise, who speaks truth to power? Who gets to make us laugh and wince in equal measure? Who forces us to sit with discomfort in a way that changes minds?
I could pretend there’s no genocide in Palestine. I could pretend anti-immigration marches aren’t built on ignorance. But comedy gives us ways to face uncomfortable truths. Without freedom, that edge is gone.
My conclusion
I will never call for the cancellation of comics or comedies. I won’t pay for Ricky Gervais anymore, but I’ll defend his right to carry on. I won’t demand that Graham Linehan never gets another commission, but I won’t watch a second of it.
Comedy must be free, not just for the punchlines we like, but for the ones that provoke. Let’s defend that space with nuance, not censorship. Let’s allow both critique and misstep — because one day, it might protect the voices we truly need.
Agree or disagree? Let me know in the comments.
Thank you!
