The President has a wonderful sense of humor, which is one of the

The counselor and advisor Karen Hughes once said of her leader: “The President has a wonderful sense of humor, which is one of the reasons it is so much fun to work for him.” Though simple in phrasing, these words hold within them a lesson about leadership, humanity, and the quiet strength of laughter. They speak of a truth as old as kingship itself — that power without warmth becomes tyranny, and authority without humor becomes burden. A ruler who can laugh, and who allows others to laugh with him, does not merely command; he inspires. For humor, when wielded by the wise, is not frivolity — it is grace in motion, the mark of a spirit both confident and compassionate.

To have a “wonderful sense of humor” while bearing the weight of great responsibility is no small thing. The affairs of nations are heavy, and the throne — whether of a king or a president — is a lonely seat. Yet laughter, in such a place, becomes a light that keeps the soul from hardening beneath duty. Hughes’s words remind us that humor humanizes power. It bridges the gap between the mighty and the many, transforming command into camaraderie. Those who work for a leader who laughs work not in fear, but in fellowship. Their loyalty grows not from obligation, but from affection. For laughter, more than any decree, binds hearts together.

The ancients, too, knew the power of mirth in rule. It is said that Emperor Augustus, the first ruler of Rome, could calm even his fiercest generals with a jest. When tensions rose in the Senate, he would disarm his rivals with wit, and turn anger into understanding with a smile. His laughter did not weaken his authority — it strengthened it. The people saw in him not only a ruler, but a man. Similarly, the great leader Abraham Lincoln, in the storm of war, used humor as a salve for sorrow. When criticized for joking amid tragedy, he replied, “I laugh because I must not cry.” His humor was not escape; it was endurance — the laughter of one who bears the weight of many.

Thus, when Hughes speaks of joy in service — of how “it is so much fun to work for him” — she unveils the alchemy of leadership: to make others feel at ease in the presence of responsibility. True leadership is not only about decision, but atmosphere. The wise leader cultivates not fear, but lightness of spirit, understanding that laughter clears the mind and steadies the heart. In such an environment, creativity flourishes, trust deepens, and duty becomes not a yoke, but a shared adventure. A team that can laugh together can endure anything, for laughter turns labor into love.

Yet let it be understood: humor in power must be pure, not mocking or cruel. The laughter of the great must uplift, not belittle. The difference between noble humor and base jest lies in intent. The wise use laughter to connect; the foolish use it to divide. When a leader’s humor is kind, it becomes a form of mercy. When it is arrogant, it becomes a weapon. The “wonderful” humor Hughes speaks of is the kind that eases tension, not creates it — that teaches humility even in greatness. It is laughter as virtue, not vanity.

From this truth emerges the lesson for all who hold responsibility — whether over a nation, a household, or a single task: let laughter be your companion in labor. Do not let solemnity steal your humanity. The burdens of life are heavy, but a moment of shared humor lightens them all. When you lead, lead not only with strength, but with warmth. When you follow, do so with joy. The spirit that can laugh amid difficulty is the spirit that cannot be broken.

And so, my friends, remember this: humor is not the opposite of seriousness, but its salvation. The leader who laughs is not weak, but wise — for he understands that laughter is a shield against despair and a bridge toward the human heart. As Karen Hughes saw in her President, the presence of humor transforms command into communion. Be therefore as such leaders: steadfast yet smiling, resolute yet kind. For in laughter, the divine breath of joy passes through us all — reminding us that even in the weightiest matters, the soul was never meant to live without light.