More Than a Joke: Humour as a Defence Mechanism
This is for anyone who’s ever laughed in the middle of something painful, brushed off discomfort with a joke, or found themselves making others laugh as a way to cope. It’s also for those who support others, whether in therapy, parenting, teaching or caring and want to better understand the role humour plays in how people protect themselves. Humour can be disarming, comforting and connective. But like all defences, it can also become a mask.
Understanding humour as a defence mechanism helps us hold both truths at once: it can be a sign of resilience and a signal of something deeper needing attention.
What Is a Defence Mechanism?
Defence mechanisms are unconscious psychological strategies that help us reduce anxiety, discomfort or emotional pain. They’re not bad or wrong – they’re creative attempts to protect ourselves from being overwhelmed. We all use them to some degree.
Some defences disconnect us from our feelings (like denial or repression), while others redirect them (like projection or displacement). Some, like humour, are often seen as more adaptive. But even adaptive strategies can be unhelpful if they become the only way we know how to cope.
What Does Humour as a Defence Look Like?
Humour as a defence doesn’t always look like light-hearted fun. It can show up in many different ways, including:
Making jokes during painful or serious conversations
Downplaying distress by saying “it’s fine” with a laugh
Using sarcasm or wit to deflect vulnerability
Becoming the “funny one” in a group to feel accepted
Distracting others with humour to avoid conflict or closeness
Laughing at one’s own experiences of trauma or rejection as a way of distancing from the pain
None of this means the humour isn’t real. But it might also be doing emotional work in the background, protecting, softening, or shielding the person from feeling something more vulnerable.
When Humour Helps
Used consciously or unconsciously, humour can be incredibly adaptive. It offers:
Connection: Shared laughter can create a sense of safety and closeness.
Relief: In dark or heavy moments, humour can give us a break from intensity.
Perspective: Humour can help reframe a situation and offer distance from distress.
Empowerment: Making meaning of painful experiences through humour can offer a sense of control or agency.
Humour can be a way of saying, “This hurts, but I’m still here.” It can build resilience, strengthen bonds and help regulate emotion. Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets us through.
When Humour Gets in the Way
Like any defence, humour can also become a barrier, especially when it’s automatic or constant.
Avoidance of emotion: Joking about something painful can help us avoid feeling the rawness underneath.
Minimising pain: “It’s not that bad, I’m just being dramatic” often hides something that hasn’t yet felt safe to express.
Blocking intimacy: Using humour to keep things light can make closeness feel unsafe, even with people we trust.
Feeling unseen: When others only respond to our humour and not what’s beneath it, we can feel misunderstood or emotionally alone.
Masking low self-worth: Being “the funny one” may be a way to earn acceptance while hiding a belief that we’re not enough as we are.
When humour is used to cover discomfort or create emotional distance, it may leave us feeling disconnected, even from ourselves.
Questions for Reflection
Bringing awareness to how we use humour can help loosen its hold without needing to get rid of it.
When do I turn to humour in difficult situations?
What emotions might be underneath my need to make a joke right now?
Do I feel safe enough to be serious or vulnerable with the people around me?
Is humour helping me connect or protecting me from something?
Do I feel truly seen, or just seen as “the funny one”?
What might happen if I allowed myself to feel the thing I’m laughing about?
You might notice that humour feels safer than anger, sadness or fear. That’s valid. It’s worked for a reason. But with time and support, we can learn that other emotions are also survivable and even shareable.
Supporting Someone Who Uses Humour Defensively
If you’re in a caring or therapeutic role, it can be easy to laugh along with someone who uses humour to cope. But beneath that laughter, there may be pain that hasn’t had permission to surface.
Try asking yourself:
Is this laughter light or heavy?
Do they seem energised or depleted after joking?
Are they using humour to connect, or to deflect?
You don’t need to take the humour away, but you can make space for what’s underneath.
You might gently say:
“That made me laugh… and I also wonder if there’s something serious underneath?”
“That was a funny story, and I also noticed you got a bit quieter afterwards, was there more there?”
“You use humour really powerfully. I wonder if it’s sometimes doing a bit of protective work for you?”
These kinds of reflections help people feel seen in their wholeness, not just in their performance.
Final Thoughts
Humour is not the problem. It is often a remarkable strength, especially when life has been painful or unpredictable. But like all strategies, it’s worth pausing to ask: is this still serving me? Or is it protecting me from something I now feel more ready to face?
When we can laugh and feel, when we can be both light and deep, humour becomes not a mask, but a bridge. One that can carry us toward greater connection, compassion and authenticity, not away from it.
