No Joke

Up until the eighteenth century, pretty much every civilization has a written history that includes a jester, joker or fool.  

We all recognise a jester; often diminutive in size, with bells and conjuring balls, with plenty of jokes and tall tales.  

King Henry the Eighth was called 'Henry' by only nine people; his father, his mother, his siblings and - his jester.  Henry's jester, William Sommers, survived the queens, survived his master and then served Queen Mary.  His birthdate is unknown but he clearly enjoyed a long life by the standards of the day and, remarkably, died a natural death. 

The role of the jester was never to amuse but rather to tell the truth at all times. 

And if you're going to tell the truth to an autocratic medieval ruler, you'd better be good at delivering diversionary jokes or other chaff or risk your head being separated from your body. 

Consider your ‘court’. Who is your jester and your truth-teller? 

In King Lear, the only character who tells the old king the absolute truth throughout is the Fool: 'though hast made thy daughters thy mothers' he says when Lear divides his kingdom, and 'I am a fool.  Though art nothing.' 

Modern ‘courts’ don’t need bells and ribbons. But like Lear, like Henry, we need our board and our team to speak up. Creating a culture safe enough for the contrarian view defines success. And if the truth is to challenge group-think, it's helpful if that information is delivered by someone you like and trust. 

Let’s bring the jester back and see what he has to say.