This is a strange comeback, which began with the pregnant man and continued around the sex of the barbecue, all leading to untruths that no one picks up anymore, so great is the intellectual confusion that puts on the same false militancy and scientific truths. Any form of hierarchy now being confused with Nazism, the fear of being pilloried socially does its work of intimidation (the unleashing of the brainless on social networks can lead to ostracism and make you lose your livelihood) .
Laughter, which “alone escapes our surveillance”, as Natalie Clifford Barney so rightly said, is becoming a minefield. Sandrine Rousseau takes center stage with a mixture of provocations and false naivety, astonishment competing with certainty when she pretends not to understand the outraged reactions to these remarks, she who “only” wants to save the world – exclusively men, destroyers of all humanity, white people who kill plants, animals, women, cats, etc., and normalized heterosexuals. Madam the judge working for the Good, the irony and the laughter against her are, in fact, in the camp of the Evil.
Caricature, but not for everyone?
The lunar exit, not to say totalitarian, of Sandrine Rousseau in the show Daily demonstrates its dangerousness. To Yann Barthès who asks her if laughing at the posts of the (tremendous) parody account “Sardine Ruisseau” makes him a stalker, she answers “yes”. To the question on the right to caricature, she answers: “Caricature does not make fun of black people, LGBT people and is not discriminatory.” When, in the end, Yann Barthès points out to her: “We each laugh in our own way, don’t we?”, she launches a terrifying “it’s part of the transformations that we must operate”… Tremble poor jokers, the decreasing anti-capitalist ecofeminist re-education waiting for you.
Let’s ignore the fact that one could say that Sandrine Rousseau thus implicitly justifies the massacre of the journalists and cartoonists of Charlie Hebdo by blaming those who “offend”, and let’s dwell on the nature of caricature and the right to laugh at everything. The caricature is not caricature if it only makes fun of the powerful (moreover Sandrine Rousseau, deputy of the Republic, media figure ad nauseam, is in the camp of the powerful, therefore, according to her logic, she should accept the account parody dedicated to him): caricature only has meaning in irreverence; it must also laugh at the weak, the minorities, the discriminated against, because that is exactly what founds their humanity. To consider that the poor, the homosexual, the black, the Muslim have no humor, is to deny their part of humanity, to infantilize them, to weaken them, to put them outside of humanity. How many dramas have been surpassed by a laugh? How many inextricable situations have been resolved in the sidestep of humour? Did Sandrine Rousseau notice that laughter is prohibited in dictatorships? Has she noticed that the dispute begins in a burst of laughter? That cartoonists are the first to be imprisoned and killed, in Iran, Cuba, Saudi Arabia, wherever freedom is absent?
The flagrant absence of humor of Sandrine Rousseau is like the pledge of the tailor-made role that she grants herself in the media-political landscape, that of the judge. Worse: the media turn to her when it comes to the life or death of a politician. Thus, we have seen him demand the resignation of all the politicians implicated for facts supposed of sexual violence, before any legal investigation or after a judgment that did not suit her, just as she decreed the exclusion of Taha Bouhafs without anything filtering from the internal court set up in the secrecy of LFI, then asked for the head of Adrien Quatennens – following his no less delirious letter of confession in the Anglo-Saxon Protestant sauce which crawls on the knees to access forgiveness. She also asked for and obtained the head of Julien Bayou because she was the avid confidante of her ex. This is not, in his own words, about sexual violence, but about “moral health”, and it is still not about justice, but about journalistic investigation. A poem by Omar Khayyam comes to my mind at each final judgment of Mrs. Rousseau: “Higher than anything, drunkenness must be put. O judge, I am more conscientious than you, Drunk as I am, the wisest of two. You drink human blood, I drink the vine. Be just and say which is more dangerous.”