“Jesters do oft prove prophets.” — Shakespeare
It’s still summer, but parts of the garden are past the riotous stage and are now looking a little more subdued.
The lilacs are long gone, of course; the forsythia, the columbine, the irises.
The peonies have finished flowering, too, but what I love about peonies is that they don’t just fade quietly past bloom stage — their seedpods are a showy display all in themselves, shaped like jester hats that always make me think of, well, jesters.
And thinking of jesters makes me think about the important role jesters play in society.
We don’t use the word jester much anymore, let alone “fool,” which is what court jesters were called in Shakespeare’s day.
Don’t let either term fool you — pardon the pun. Far from merely making merry to cheer a royal court or to entertain a bored blue blood, jesters, fools and jokers were often the only people with the guts to say what needed to be said — but not necessarily what wished to be heard — to the people in power.
In that regard jesters were powerful people themselves — they could issue warnings, subtly criticize or offer advice, all in the guise of telling riddles or speaking nonsense for a bit of sport.
Here’s the Fool in “King Lear,” imparting wisdom about misplaced trust and fairweather friends to the embattled monarch:
“That sir which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,
Will pack when it begins to rain,
And leave thee in the storm.”
In more modern times, comedians — particularly satirists, both in sketch comedy and standup — are often the ones to speak the scathing truth to power.
In the United States, late-night talk show hosts and the enduring “Saturday Night Live” sketch show have excelled in skewering presidents and deflating others puffed up on their own pomposity.
Think Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, Jane Curtin, Alec Baldwin, John Oliver, Bill Maher, and others.
Writing in the Baltimore Sun in February 2019, David Zurawik observed, “just as the press plays an important role in the conversation of democracy, so does political satire. This is especially true of those comedians who critique some of the more absurd and dangerous politicians in ways that legacy journalists cannot for fear of being considered partisan.”
We have our own skilled satirists in Canada, and many of them are from Newfoundland and Labrador (their gifts perhaps honed on bombastic politicians and bad weather).
Think Rick Mercer, Mark Critch and the genius that was Codco — Tommy Sexton, Mary Walsh, Cathy Jones, Andy Jones, Greg Malone, Bob Joy and Diane Olsen.
How lucky we were to have had those merciless jesters in our midst.
Whether they were castigating the church for hypocrisy or exposing racism and bigotry, they shied away from nothing and no one.
And unlike the fools of Shakespeare’s day, today’s satirists have not only the ear of the king, but the whole kingdom.
Here’s Mr. Budgell from “Das Capital,” musing about the charms of St. John’s:
“You know, boy, we got all kinds of advantages. living in a little place like St. John’s. …We got ah… Well, ya got poverty. All kinds of poor people. … All kinds of ramshackle old houses, no one would live in except the poor people, ya know. They’re out on the stoop all the time, boy, as friendly as could be.”
In a province with a newly minted unelected premier and a country whose prime minister sees to suffer from a chronic case of ethical lapse, it’s vital that we hold those in power to account and not be lulled into apathy.
American author Seth Godin has said, “As our society gets more complex and our people get more complacent, the role of the jester is more vital than ever before.”
Send in the clowns.
Pam Frampton is The Telegram’s managing editor. Email [email protected] Twitter: @PamFrampton
