Last night, after connecting with friends and family, and excited by the great college football championship game, I thought that Trump’s threats to Greenland were the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Today, in the cold light of dawn, after normal experiences of vulnerability, when I think about Trump’s threats to Greenland, I want to vomit. <\/p>\n
When I feel strong and invulnerable, many things amuse me that then horrify me when I feel weak. <\/p>\n
Safety dictates our perspective. When you feel secure, a threat to international norms or the sovereignty of a distant land looks like a joke because the consequences feel remote and the absurdity takes center stage. You watch the spectacle as a spectator from a fortified position. In that headspace, the idea of a world leader demanding to buy a country sounds like a satirical plot line rather than a geopolitical reality.<\/p>\n
The cold light of dawn brings back the reality of human fragility. When you feel vulnerable, those same words lose their comedic edge and reveal the underlying instability they represent. The humor evaporates because you recognize that the power to make such demands resides in a person who can affect your own life and the lives of people you care about. What felt like a performance yesterday feels like a precursor to chaos today.<\/p>\n
Psychologists often note that humor requires a perceived violation that feels benign. When you are strong, the violation feels harmless. When you are weak, the violation feels like a genuine threat. My reaction to political rhetoric is a barometer of my own internal state of resilience. <\/p>\n
I guess the things we laugh at in the company of friends become the things that keep us awake when we are alone.<\/p>\n
Benign violation theory explains this through the intersection of three specific conditions. A situation must first present a violation of some norm or expectation, such as a breach of diplomatic etiquette or a threat to global stability. Second, the person must perceive that violation as harmless or benign. Third, these two perceptions must occur simultaneously. When you feel invulnerable, the threat to Greenland satisfies the second condition because your strength acts as a shield. You see the absurdity of the act without feeling the weight of its potential damage.<\/p>\n
When that sense of invulnerability fades, the violation no longer feels benign. It shifts into the category of a pure threat. The distance required for humor collapses, and the brain prioritizes survival and empathy over the appreciation of irony. This explains why people in high-stress environments often rely on dark humor to maintain their footing. They use laughter to artificially create the distance they lack, attempting to transform a frightening reality into something manageable and small.<\/p>\n
This psychological mechanism also acts as a social glue. Sharing a laugh over a perceived threat with family and friends reinforces a collective sense of power and safety. The group dynamic provides a buffer that an individual lacks during a quiet morning of reflection. Your physical and emotional state dictates whether you view the world as a stage for comedy or a landscape of risk.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Last night, after connecting with friends and family, and excited by the great college football championship game, I thought that Trump’s threats to Greenland were the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Today, in the cold light of dawn, after normal … Continue reading