TheDaak review

Laughter in Occupied Palestine: Comedy and Identity in Art and Film by Chrisoula Lionis, I.B. Tauris, 256 pages, April 28, 2016, 5.5 x 0.62 x 8.5 inches, ISBN-13: 978-1784532888, $40.95 (paperback).

By Pausali Guha

Amidst the stark realities of the Israeli occupation, where concrete divides carve through lives and checkpoints become grim monuments to dispossession, Chrisoula Lionis’ Laughter in Occupied Palestine presents a compelling exploration of a seemingly incongruous phenomenon: the subversive power of humour. This is not a book about punchlines or witty repartee, but rather a daring expedition into the heart of a people who have chosen laughter as a shield against the relentless onslaught of oppression and exile.

Lionis traces the correlation between humour and identity in Palestine by applying theoretical insights from the field of ‘humorology’. She contends that despite the challenging circumstances faced by Palestinians, modern Palestinian art and film exhibit a notable inclination towards humour. This apparent contradiction is investigated in the text by examining the evolution of Palestinian artistic expression and cinema in reaction to pivotal historical junctures, contending that this artistic shift has radically reshaped Palestinian identity.

Lionis argues that the recent blossoming in art and film stems from the profound social impact of the 1967 defeat and the subsequent trauma. This tragedy spurred the use of humour as a coping mechanism and a means to confront collective suffering. 

She dissects this intricate dynamic by focusing on five key chapters in the Palestinian narrative: the Balfour Declaration (1917-1948), the Nakba (1948-1968), the Battle of Al-Karameh (1968-1982), the Israeli invasion of Lebanon (1982-1993), and the Oslo Accords (1993-present). Within each of these historical junctures, reflecting the shifting anxieties and resilience of the Palestinian collective. 

Examining the works of Larissa Sansour, Khaled Hourani, Taysir Batniji among others, Lionis exemplifies this transformative power, wherein the role of humour in shaping perceptions of Palestinian identity becomes evident through works like Sansour’s Space Exodus and Nation Estate. Sansour’s work delves into the complexities of Palestinian identification with place, challenging conventional narratives through ‘humor noir’. Space Exodus parodies Western Orientalist imagination, while Nation Estate critiques the shrinking Palestinian land amidst ongoing occupation. Similarly, Khaled Hourani’s No News from Palestine humorously obstructs traditional representations by presenting postcards devoid of news, thereby challenging conventional expectations, while Taysir Batniji’s Watchtowers employs irony to challenge perceptions of Palestinian mobility and landscape representation. Unable to access the West Bank himself, Batniji commissions a photographer, resulting in intentionally imperfect images that challenge traditional documentary methods. By subverting the formalist approach of renowned photographers, Batniji critiques the political and cultural constraints faced by Palestinian artists. These examples in the book showcase how humour, intertwined with art and film, serves as a means to forge a borderless Palestinian identity amidst displacement and geopolitical turmoil.

Lionis contends that humour’s current prominence in Palestinian film and art didn’t always exist. Before the Israeli invasion of Lebanon (1982), humour was largely absent from these mediums, despite some initial glimmers after the 1967 defeat. She argues that the Israeli invasion of Lebanon (1982) saw a crucial shift in Palestinian identity from ‘Palestinian-ness’ to ‘Palestinianism.’ Prior to this shift, Lionis suggests, the Nakba solidified a common Palestinian identity based on the shared experience of being refugees. However, she argues that this ‘Palestinianess’ lacked a deeper defining element. It was the Battle of Al-Karameh (1968) that truly ignited ‘Palestinianism,’ infusing the identity with a revolutionary spirit and solidifying its distinct character.

The 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon and the Palestine Liberation Organisation (PLO) subsequent exile to Tunis marked a pivotal moment for Palestinian cultural output and identity. Lionis analyses the impact of this “double exile” on a generation who came of age amidst the Lebanese civil war and witnessed the fall of Beirut as their “surrogate capital.” This sustained trauma forced them to confront the haunting reality of a “past not yet passed,” echoing the Nakba experience.

Paradoxically, however, Beirut’s destruction also opened a creative window for Palestinian artists and filmmakers. Geographically and culturally decentralised for the first time in decades, their work moved beyond rigid narratives of exile, revolution, and militarism. They began deconstructing the fixed categories of ‘Palestinianess’ and ‘Palestinianism’, leading to a rise in international recognition for their art and film. This newfound self-criticism was characterised by a blurring of the lines between personal and collective experiences, with memory and oral history playing central roles. The book echoes Edward Said’s observation that these elements served as potent substitutes for Palestinian citizenship, symbolising both history and aspirations. 

Lionis then shifts her focus to the Oslo Accords of 1993, which she views as the most recent and ongoing critical juncture in shaping Palestinian identity. In her analysis, Oslo marked a crucial turning point by dampening Palestinian nationalist aspirations. This sense of disillusionment, Lionis argues, is directly linked to the rise of humour in contemporary Palestinian art and film.

Lionis further delves into the theme of ‘borderlessness’ within Palestinian identity. She examines how artists and filmmakers like Batniji, Omari, Sansour, and Saadeh through humour, explore the link to place and homeland, but outside the traditional confines of a nation-state with defined borders.

Lionis argues that Palestine, for these artists, becomes more about identification than citizenship or residency. Consequently, humour increasingly serves as a tool to explore both the connection to Palestine and its very definition within the international context. She dwells into a specific set of signs and symbols employed in Palestinian cultural output. She argues that these symbols, even decades after exile, act as crucial vehicles for constructing an “imagined community,” as Benedict Anderson termed it. By referencing shared cultural touchstones, these symbols help forge a collective identity that transcends physical boundaries and the limitations of traditional nation-states.

Lionis then goes on to explore the conditions of laughter itself. She divides the audience into two groups: Palestinians witnessing humour within their own community and international audiences encountering it for the first time. In either case, Lionis argues, laughter fosters a shared understanding of the world, solidifying collective identity and forging solidarity. This newly-minted connection, sparked by humour, leads to greater intimacy, understanding, and potentially even empathy with the Palestinian experience.

Therefore, throughout her work, Lionis demonstrates how contemporary Palestinian cultural output harnesses humour as a multifaceted tool. It articulates the ongoing consequences of the Israeli occupation, incites laughter that unsettles the political status quo, acts as a mature defence mechanism against trauma, and shines a spotlight on systematic Israeli violence.

While dedicating her work to exploring humour in the Palestinian experience, Lionis readily acknowledges the seriousness of their struggle. She emphasises that real emergencies and daily hardships mark their lives, demanding a grounded approach. However, through this analysis, she delves into the unique role of laughter in navigating these harsh realities. She argues that humour is not merely a permissible but a necessary response to such traumas.

Building on the idea of forging connections through humour, Lionis posits it as a critical tool for understanding the world and, consequently, the suffering of others. This insightful perspective extends the previous discussion on humour’s ability to build collective identity and empathy. Lionis’ work stands as a testament to the transformative power of humour in the Palestinian experience. Her analysis skilfully reveals how Palestinian art and film weave humour into a shared social tapestry, inviting the international community to witness the absurd politics, unrelenting violence, and enduring trauma that constitute daily life for many Palestinians. This laughter, far from being frivolous, emerges as a vital mechanism for understanding, coping, and forging solidarity. 

However, it’s important to acknowledge the limitations of this approach. The effectiveness of humour as a tool for subversion may not translate equally to all Palestinians, particularly those facing the most brutal forms of suppression. Additionally, Lionis’ framework doesn’t encompass the full spectrum of Palestinian suffering. Nevertheless, these critiques don’t diminish the significance of her contribution. Lionis’ exploration of the intricate dance between Palestinian art, identity formation, and humour offers a profound understanding of how these elements mutually constitute each other and shape the ongoing struggle for dignity and self-determination in the face of adversity. As the Palestinian story continues to unfold in the ever-shifting sands of global politics, Lionis’ work reminds us of the importance of recognising not just the pain, but also the resilience and the unwavering spirit that find expression in even the darkest moments through the transformative power of laughter.

In conclusion, Laughter in Occupied Palestine is not just a book about Palestinians; it’s a book about humanity. It’s a testament to the indomitable spirit that refuses to be silenced, a celebration of the transformative power of art, and a call to action for all who believe in dignity, freedom, and the unyielding power of laughter in the face of darkness. For anyone seeking to understand the complexities of the Palestinian struggle, to delve into the profound depths of human resilience, and to appreciate the subversive power of humour, Lionis’ work offers an invaluable window into a world where laughter dances amidst the rubble, a defiant echo in the long march towards justice.   This book should be read not just as a window into history but as a call to action, a reminder that solidarity thrives, and laughter, like hope, will never be truly contained by concrete walls.