The Great Hypocrisy of the Thin--Skinned Mockery Merchant.

There is a particular type of person who seems to regard mockery as a perfectly legitimate form of communication—provided, of course, that they are the one doing the mocking.

They can dish it out by the bucketful. They can ridicule people, sneer at them, call them names, accuse them of lying and generally treat YouTube like their own personal comedy club.

But then somebody turns the joke around.

Suddenly, the comedy stops.

The mockery becomes harassment. The criticism becomes bullying. The jokes become cruel. And the person who was perfectly happy dishing it out discovers, apparently for the first time in human history, that words can actually be unpleasant.

Harry Munker provides an amusing example of this phenomenon. He has been quoted as saying:

“I'm not a bully, I just mock scumbags here and there. Call out lies too.”

Fair enough. That is a perfectly defensible position—if it is applied consistently.

If you believe people are entitled to mock those they regard as “scumbags,” and to call out what they believe to be lies, then presumably you accept the corresponding principle that you can be mocked and challenged in return.

That's how criticism works.

You don't get to issue yourself a permanent comedy licence while simultaneously declaring everyone else's jokes against you illegal.

The One-Way Mirror.

The thin-skinned mockery merchant operates behind what might be called the one-way mirror principle.

• They can see everyone else.
• They can scrutinise everyone else's behaviour.
• They can analyse everyone else's words.
• They can point out contradictions.
• They can make jokes.
• They can produce videos.
• They can sneer.

But when somebody holds the mirror up to them, suddenly the mirror is defective.

The problem isn't necessarily that somebody has criticised them. The problem is that they don't like what they see reflected back.

And that is the crucial distinction.

Free expression cannot sensibly mean “I am free to mock you, but you are forbidden from mocking me.”

If you want the freedom to dish out ridicule, you have to accept that somebody might serve you a portion in return.

The Comedy Courtroom.

The really extraordinary transformation occurs when the mockery is directed back at the mocker.

Yesterday:

“I'm just having a laugh.”

Today:

“This is persecution!”

Yesterday:

“I'm calling out lies.”

Today:

“How dare you question what I'm saying?”

Yesterday:

“People need to develop a thicker skin.”

Today:

“Everyone must stop talking about me immediately!”

It is almost as though a magical switch gets flicked.

• The comedian becomes the victim.
• The critic becomes the persecutor.
• The joke becomes an attack.

And the person who spent yesterday handing out emotional punches suddenly discovers the concept of personal boundaries.

There is nothing wrong with somebody genuinely being upset by criticism. People are entitled to their feelings. But there is a difference between being upset by something and claiming that nobody else has the right to say it.

The Golden Rule of YouTube.

Perhaps the simplest rule is this:

If you don't want to be mocked, don't make mockery your principal weapon against other people.

That doesn't mean that every insult is justified.

It doesn't mean that false allegations are acceptable.

It doesn't mean that harassment should be tolerated.

And it certainly doesn't mean that somebody experiencing genuine emotional distress should simply be laughed at.

It means something much simpler:

Standards should apply in both directions.

If you claim that you are merely mocking people and calling out what you believe to be lies, then expect other people to mock you and challenge what they believe to be lies.

That's not hypocrisy being imposed upon you. That's reciprocity.

The Final Punchline.

Perhaps the funniest thing about the permanently offended mockery merchant is that they often seem completely unaware of the contradiction.

They imagine themselves as the fearless truth-teller who “just calls people out.” Until someone calls them out.

They imagine themselves as the comedian who can laugh at anyone. Until they're the punchline.

They imagine themselves as someone who can dish out criticism without consequence. Until the criticism comes back. And then the great champion of free expression suddenly wants to speak to the manager.

The lesson is beautifully simple:

If you can dish it out, learn to take it. And if you genuinely can't tolerate having the piss taken out of you, perhaps becoming a professional piss-taker wasn't the wisest career choice.