In a year when cartoonists have been shot in Paris and jailed in Iran, the comic strip has demonstrated its ability to get under the skin of political and social issues like never before.

While still regarded by some as second-rate page fillers, the journalistic use of comics has deep and sophisticated roots going back to William Hogarth in 18th century England and the painters of Japan's Edo period, among others.

In Belgium, a country whose sense of humor has been tested by the security alert in the wake of the Paris terror attacks, the 20th century has seen the emergence of a strong tradition of cartoons — partly driven by social and political conflict.

“Comics are one of the most accessible mediums in the world,” said Willem de Graeve of the Belgian Comic Strip Centre. “Here in Belgium, we’re more into visual communication,” he said, adding that for a country that suffers such a pronounced linguistic divide, "visual communication is so much more efficient that traditional communication.”

POLITICO has taken a look at a political medium that provokes laughter and shudders in equal measure.

Smurf vs Smurf

Belgian comic artist Peyo used his well-known “Smurfs” series to comment on society.

The 1972 comic "Schtroumpf Vert et Vert Schtroumpf" — translated as Smurf vs Smurf — dealt with the lack of a common language within the Smurf village, and the divides this can cause.

First published in Spirou magazine, it told the story of how an argument over the correct use of the word "Smurf" creates a rift between the Northern “Smurf openers” and Southern “bottle Smurfs.”

A funny story, but also a thinly veiled comment on Belgium’s linguistic, cultural and political divide between Dutch-speaking Flanders in the north and French-speaking Wallonia to the south.

The Smurfs are not exactly known for biting political satire, but that's in part a reflection of the wider perception of comics in general.

The emergence of graphic novels — a term coined by American cartoonist Will Eisner to attract more adult readers — began to recast comics as a more adult affair, regardless of their characters.

The Comic book graphic novel

In December 1980 American cartoonist Art Spiegelman began publishing his father's experiences as a Polish Jew and Holocaust survivor in the serial Maus.

The story is depicted through the use of anthropomorphic allegories — mice for Jews and cats for Nazis — in a similar way to George Orwell’s Animal Farm, using the genre to deal with very real issues of xenophobia, torture and war.

Spiegelman deals with his father’s love life, persecution in Germany, the war and his experiences as a Holocaust survivor.

The weekly strip featured in the comic anthology Raw from 1980 until 1991, and was eventually compiled into two separate volumes, with the collection going on to win a Pulitzer Prize in 1992 — the first graphic novel to do so.

The humble comic — albeit under a new name — had made a significant leap.

Comic journalism — can a cartoon compete with the written word?

Long after Eisner toyed with the idea of comics for adults, struggling journalist Joe Sacco decided to turn to his hobby — cartoons — in order to create the hard-hitting reportage he was after. Over the next 20 years he would create books on Palestine, Gaza and a collection on war reporting, using what he once described as "slow journalism."

“I suppose the real point when the two things came together, journalism and comics, was when I went to the Middle East and did the comic book series 'Palestine'," he said in a 2011 interview.

A few years later, Sacco tried to cast some light on the name “graphic novel" — a term he contests, as does Spiegelman and many others in their field.

"I grew up with the term 'comic books,' it didn’t bother me, and 'graphic novel' always seemed like a way of making adults feel like they weren’t being puerile by buying these things," he told Salon.

These days graphic novels are more popular than ever, with new methodologies constantly forming around emerging talent. While pioneers such as Spiegelman and Sacco drew inspiration from real events, the freedom that comes with comic journalism also provides their creators with a chance to overtly satirize news and politics to a degree that is uncommon in more traditional media.

Judging with satire

“I think political cartooning has a long history of being very effective at communicating political ideas," said British satirical cartoonist Darren Cullen. "And with comics there is so much scope to do anything you like with just some ink, a pencil and a few pieces of paper."

Cullen created “Join the Army” which exploits a pseudo propaganda pamphlet format to deal with U.K. military policy, the controversial Trident nuclear missile program, and armed forces recruitment.

Defiant against the glorification of combat, Cullen told POLITICO that he relishes “the idea of being able to force a different perspective on some very old and cyclical arguments.”

While some view his work as extreme, Cullen said he has had a positive response from his main subjects — Army veterans.

“Having lived it, they're already quite aware of the absurdities and the insane situations that are part and parcel of being a member of a professional killing machine. So veterans can laugh at it, but some civilians get wrapped up in the hero worship and flag waving and they see any criticism of the Army as sacrilege.”

These long-form stories sometimes take months or even years to develop, with plenty of time spent researching before even sitting down to draw.

But what about satirical commentary on the daily news agenda?

#JESUISCHARLIE — Freedom of speech

At one stage, satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo seemed untouchable. Relying on a strong team of cartoonists to poke fun at the news, the weekly publication survived several attempts at silencing it by extremist groups enraged by the biting satire. The goal of the magazine, it says, is to provide ”a different angle on the news, for an in-depth view beyond the everyday media.”

This attitude grabbed the attention of politicians, readers, and religious groups, as the magazine strived to stand out.

But in January 2015 two armed men stormed their offices, killing 12 people. The group claimed to take offense at their depiction of Islam.

The world rallied behind them, tweeting #Jesuischarlie as candlelit vigils were held to mourn those killed in the attack.

Charlie Hebdo kept going, publishing an issue with an image of Prophet Mohammed holding a "Je Suis Charlie" sign and saying "everything is forgiven." On the first anniversary of the attack, the magazine plans to print one million copies of a special edition.

This may be an extreme example of the censorship of cartoonists, but it's far from the only one.

Iranian cartoonist Hadi Heidari — who has been arrested and detained several times for his work — was escorted from his office by “a young man ... with a warrant" the day after posting a cartoon on Instagram showing a weeping face with the Eiffel Tower for a nose.

Speculation within the country pointed the finger at the security forces, who appear to dislike journalists displaying "friendly" opinions on foreign affairs.

These extreme reactions are horrible in many ways, but they do raise the question of whether "second-rate page filler" could really provoke this kind of reaction. You may laugh at the medium — but never underestimate cartoonists' power to comment on what's going on.