Parody, Power and Paradox

In childhood, I believed that a clown is just an attractively painted face or a buffoon in oversized shoes. But it’s not just that, I realized quite later. Over the years, I have understood that a clown is an idea—a symbol that straddles both humor and tragedy, wisdom and folly. The world has always had clowns. Some perform in circuses, some in classrooms, some in cabins, some in courts, some in cemeteries, and some on the grandest stage of all: politics.

Recently, there was this “great television” watched by millions as the shouting match between two state heads. The word “clown” took center stage in global politics when US President reportedly referred President of Ukraine as a “clown.” The irony, of course, is that Zelensky was, quite literally, a comedian before taking office.

If history has shown us anything, it is that clowns have always occupied an uncomfortable yet vital space in society. They amuse. But they also provoke. They are dismissed as fools, yet they often disclose the deepest truths. And, in the grand theatre of life, are not all people in some way performers, donning masks and playing roles to win the favor of their respective audience?

They say clowns come in different forms. Some paint their faces, some put on latest attire, some sport combat outfit, some wear tailored suits. The Augustus Clown, the chaotic jester, stumbles and falls but always gets back up, a metaphor for resilience. The Whiteface Clown, elegant and in control, represents authority and intellect, the one who appears to have the answers. The Tramp Clown, wandering and melancholic, reflects society’s forgotten and disillusioned. And then there is the Harlequin, the trickster, the one who plays by no rules but his own.

The world is filled with each of these clowns. Some are self-aware performers who know how to manipulate audience, while others are completely oblivious of the act they are a part of. The world watches as they deliver carefully rehearsed speeches, stage grand gestures and engage in dramatic confrontations, all in an effort to maintain power. Some rely on humor to distract, others on fear to control. But in the end, all are actually playing a role!

Leaders across the world have long understood the power of performance. From the excessive hand gestures of Mussolini to the charismatic television presence of Kennedy, from Churchill’s booming rhetoric to today’s reality-show theatrics—politicians craft their personas carefully. Some use humor to disarm critics; others adopt an air of stern seriousness to project control. But all of them are, in essence, playing to audience. Sometimes, a quiet performance is not any less of a performance!

When one leader calls another a clown, it raises the question: Who is the real clown? Is it the one who openly plays the role, making no secret of its intentions? Or is it the one who ridicules others while engaging in the same political theater? The insult itself reveals the fear of precariousness. Because a clown, unlike a conventional politician, does not always follow the script.

That’s why clowns aren’t harmless all the time. Throughout history, jesters have held dangerous power. The medieval court jester, for example, was often the only one who could criticize the king without losing his head. But not all clowns are truth-tellers. Some wear the clown’s mask to entertain and distract, using laughter to avoid accountability. Others hide behind buffoonery to excuse incompetence, using their foolishness as a shield against criticism.

And then, there are those who are unknowingly clowns, from local to global level. The clowns so detached from reality, so consumed by their own image that they become caricatures of themselves. These are the ones who make grand promises, contradict themselves without hesitation and create chaos while believing they are in control.

Besides, clowns are unpredictable. That is what makes them unsettling. They don’t always follow expected rules, and their laughter can quickly turn into something else—maybe mockery, defiance, even rebellion. Shakespeare understood this well. His fools were never just comic relief; they were the sharpest voices in the room, the ones who saw through power and exposed it for what it was.

So when a political leader is labeled a clown, it might be meant as an insult. But it also might be recognition of power. The power to disrupt, to expose, to play by a different set of rules. Clowns who are aware of their role can be dangerous. They can make people laugh while they shift the narrative. They can use humor to erode authority. They can turn politics into satire and satire into politics.

So, the world does not need to ask, “Who is the clown?” The real question is who isn’t? The truth is that world has always been a circus and the audience—whether you cheer, boo or walk away—is part of the show. And sadly, the show has to go on…..