When I was young — which wasn’t all that long ago — Saudi Arabia was a byword for Islamist tyranny. Its exports seemed to be petrol and terrorists, and its domestic economy appeared to revolve around public executions.
A lot has changed since then. Under Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, more women have been allowed to work, women have been allowed to drive, and headscarves have been made optional. Saudi Arabia has not just opened up to international sport and cultural events, meanwhile — it has spent countless millions to attract athletes and artists.
Football greats like Cristiano Ronaldo and Karim Benzema play in Saudi Arabia. World Wrestling Entertainment recently agreed to hold its 43rd annual “WrestleMania” event in Riyadh. Now, the Riyadh Comedy Festival is attracting comedy stars like Bill Burr, Dave Chappelle, Mark Normand and Jimmy Carr.
Here, we enter iffy moral territory. Saudi Arabia might have changed but it hasn’t changed all that much. Migrant workers are abused with cartoonish cruelty. Last year, executions actually doubled. Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman is an undeniably smart and ambitious leader but it should not be forgotten that he is heavily suspected of having been behind the dismembering of the dissident journalist Jamal Khashoggi. His regime maintains sweeping dictatorial control.
Dark stuff. But we shouldn’t rush to criticise athletes or musicians who perform in Saudi Arabia. I mean, let’s not be self-righteous: it was just a couple of decades ago that the UK was involved in appallingly destructive wars in the Middle East. Would we have criticised a football player for signing with Man United, or a band for playing at Glastonbury? One could also make the argument that as much as sport and cultural events being held in Saudi Arabia legitimises the regime, they also encourage liberalisation, whereas boycotts would encourage a more hermetic and fanatical approach.
It’s a tricky one.
Comedians are the ones who are always bragging about how much they love to question the unquestionable and to slaughter sacred cows
But while I see the argument for athletes and musicians performing in Saudi Arabia, comedians feel like a special case. After all, comedians are the ones who are always bragging about how much they love to question the unquestionable and to slaughter sacred cows. Comedians who are performing at the Riyadh Comedy Festival, like Jimmy Carr and Andrew Schultz, have talked at frankly tedious length about their disdain for “cancel culture”. “I’m not a respectable guy,” Carr has humblebragged, “I tell very edgy jokes, and jokes are like magnets, they attract some people … and they repel people.”
Now, I disagree with people who think that the point of comedy is to be edgy. The point of comedy is to be funny. This can mean being edgy, but it doesn’t have to mean that. I loved Emo Philips’ old routines and I don’t recall him making a single joke with political connotations.
Still, while I don’t think that comedians should have to make provocative jokes, I don’t think they should follow rules which actually prohibit them. According to one comedian who turned down an offer to perform at the Riyadh Comedy Festival, the contract for performers includes this stipulation:
ARTIST shall not prepare or perform any material that may be considered to degrade, defame, or bring into public disrepute, contempt, scandal, embarrassment, or ridicule:
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- A) The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, including its leadership, public figures, culture, or people;
- B) The Saudi royal family, legal system, or government, and;
- C) Any religion, religious tradition, religious figure, or religious practice.
You’re going to Saudi Arabia, but you can’t make fun of the royal family or Islam? Again, I don’t think comedians should have to be offensive. But being in the business of amusing observations and staying off the subject of such an overbearing regime, with such a colourful fusion of modern capitalism and austere religious orthodoxy, and not making some kind of joke about it feels like being in a room with a hulking zoo escapee and not saying, “Get a load of that elephant”. Agreeing not to joke about it, meanwhile, is an abdication of your comedic independence. You can say what you like about Donald Trump — and that’s the point. Comedians agreeing not to make fun of the powerful forever lose the right to claim to be edgy and provocative.
Money talks, of course — and it seduces and persuades. Tim Dillon, who agreed to perform at the festival but was fired when the organisers heard him making a joke about modern slavery in Saudi Arabia, claims that he was going to be paid $375,000. If the Saudis offered me $375,000 for an hour of mild-mannered jokes about airline peanuts, would I turn it down? I hope so. But it’s easy to say that when the offer isn’t coming.
Still, I’m pious enough to think that principles matter. I’m not sure a football player is being unprincipled if he accepts millions of pounds from the Saudis to play football in Saudi Arabia instead of millions of pounds from the Emiratis to play for Manchester City. But a comedian who signs a contract that commits them to ignoring large-scale absurdity and malice? I hope those airline peanuts turn to ashes in their mouths.
