Irony is hard to define

both as a word (definition of irony) and as an instance (to detect irony). Roughly simplifying I get along with the following definition: irony is the perceived coexistence of opposite elements into a single entity. Lately I felt this definition fails in spotting the aspect of irony which is most commonly considered: it should make you laugh (bitterly sometimes). Instead of leading me to a better definition, this thought brought me to some new observations. They all came to a focus point when I saw the following advertising on an Italian broadcast channel.

Now I've to say I really liked this advertising. For not Italian speakers, it tells you that there never was a great basket player who also was an astronaut or a famous professor who also was a great pop star, still the bank XXX can be Y and Z at the same time. The mechanism may be not fully evident, but there is something like irony into it. Irony that shouldn't make you laugh, but should indeed call for amazement and involvement: someone/something can hold opposites inside him/itself.
Let's think about the Tender Knight for example, he could be:

• A lovely tender strong man, who was made knight but never wanted to hold a sword; when he rides his horse through the fields he looks for roses and flowers to bring them to the village into his huge hands.
• A brave strong man, who holds the sword like no other and is feared on the battle field. But when he turns back home he's the sweetest man with his family and people.

I met both of them, the first into a cartoon, the second into a Nazi novel. One should probably make you laugh, the other should have all your consideration. They both hold opposites within their character, still are they both made out of irony? The second mechanism has been very common in the last times, at least in Italy. A famous Italian politician and Chief of Parliament uttered that he was the "Workman President" wearing a work helmet while in his presidential tuxedo. And this is not a new behavior for great communicators as politicians are. This mechanism offers some kind of instant poetry to the speaker, probably because the listener has to explain himself how the opposites live together. Now this means he is already involved into the communication, when even not already committed to it. Moreover there is enough room for the listener's imagination to let him feel (and fill) some poetry into the life of whom he was informed.

I promise I will read books and do some research to have a better idea of what above. As for now: I like the advertising because it uncovers the infamous mechanism and all in all uses it not so viciously. Meanwhile have you ever thought about irony cooled down and served for you to adore his subject when the same compound could make you laugh instead? How do you call that?

Advertising

for an imaginary world.

The unbearable lightness of power

is what I find in Barack Obama (viciously stealing from Kundera's work). I like to think it could be a definition for that energy underneath "Yes, we can!". This is at the same time a grave phrase and a bringer of lightness. It is about taking the responsibilities, all of them maybe, but also being relieved by consciousness of success. It goes not too far from the American dream, still it is good for today, when dreams aren't good for every (political) speech anymore. Whether United States will do it or not; if they, their president, their army really can do it or not, it's hard to say now. But on a communication scope the phrase did it very well, it became a enchanted sword for an hero of a successful tale. The fairy tale metaphor has a reason, take a look.
Le Roi Thaumaturge! I had to utter watching this video. And I can say that even the CNN agrees: Crying baby no match for Obama. Obama can do a lot of everyday things, and he does them with charm and self control (or matching when he sings). This fact produces fascination around his person, just because to calm a baby girl or to sing is no match for him. "Yes, we can!" is his personal abracadabra, maybe made of the same magic to be found into "Just do it!", which worked like a charm for Nike.
But like every enchanted sword these phrases work only when into the right hands, otherwise they won't come out the rough rocks. Shape the weapon upon your warrior, I'd say to some Italian spin doctors. When the weapon comes to his destined owner, here comes the lightness: a phrase that may be full of doubt and responsibilities turns into an hug that stops baby crying. We, together, under the power of a spell and guided by a modern Roi, who casts it, are freed of obstacles and full of possibilities. In one word we can. The unbearable lightness of power resides among the speech and the speaker, always calling one another.