There's only one true superpower amongst human beings, and that

The words of Jeff Garlin—“There’s only one true superpower amongst human beings, and that is being funny. People treat you differently if you can make them laugh.”—speak not of comic vanity, but of the mystical power of laughter, the divine force that binds souls, softens hearts, and conquers hostility where reason cannot. Beneath his jest lies a truth the ancients would have called sacred: that humour is not mere entertainment, but a form of influence, a light that disarms the shadows of pride and fear. In this teaching, Garlin does not place comedy above strength or wisdom—he names it the superpower of empathy, the ability to bridge the gulf between strangers and turn coldness into warmth.

To call laughter a superpower is to recognize its rarity and its transformative force. A person who can make others laugh commands no army, yet can win any room. They wield no weapon, yet pierce the armor of cynicism. Through laughter, the heavy burdens of the heart are lifted, if only for a moment, and in that moment, souls remember their shared humanity. In ancient times, kings and emperors feared the jester not because he was dangerous, but because he could speak the truth without punishment—for humour, veiled in play, carried more wisdom than decree. Garlin’s insight reminds us that to make others laugh is to momentarily hold power over sorrow itself.

The origin of this truth stretches back to the dawn of civilization. In the courts of Pharaohs and emperors, in the temples of Greece and the marketplaces of Rome, the comic stood as both fool and philosopher. Aristophanes, the great playwright of Athens, used laughter to expose corruption and pride, teaching through mirth what others dared not declare. He understood that humour, when born of truth, could change minds more effectively than any sermon or sword. The one who can laugh—and make others laugh—reveals mastery not of wit alone, but of perception, for humour is born from seeing the world as it is, with all its absurdity and grace.

There is also profound psychological power in laughter. To make another person laugh is to be seen as safe, as kind, as someone who brings life rather than harm. It dissolves fear and opens trust. History tells of Abraham Lincoln, who, during the darkest hours of the Civil War, often disarmed his generals and soothed tempers through jokes and stories. His humour was not trivial—it was strategy. “If I did not laugh,” he once said, “I should die.” In those moments, laughter was his shield against despair, his bridge to others’ hearts. Thus, the “superpower” Garlin speaks of is not magic—it is the alchemy of connection, where levity becomes strength and vulnerability becomes courage.

Yet Garlin’s words carry another meaning: that humour is a mark of understanding. To be funny, truly funny, one must perceive truth in all its contradictions. One must feel pain, joy, fear, and love deeply enough to see the threads that connect them. The comedian, like the philosopher or poet, translates chaos into clarity. The laughter that follows is not mindless—it is recognition. It is the soul saying, “Ah, yes—I have felt that too.” Therefore, to be funny is to be wise in disguise. It is to wield compassion, for humour without empathy becomes cruelty. True funniness is never born of mockery, but of shared imperfection.

From this truth comes a great lesson for all who live: seek not to dominate others with power or intellect, but to unite them through laughter. When you enter a room, bring lightness with you. When conflict rises, let a well-timed jest dissolve its tension. When sorrow weighs upon your own heart, let humour remind you that despair is not eternal. To laugh is to resist hopelessness; to make others laugh is to give them a moment of freedom from the gravity of existence. This is no small gift—it is the superpower of compassion in motion.

So let this teaching be carried forward: cherish the ability to be funny, for it is the art of being human at its most divine. The warrior conquers through force; the wise through words; but the one who can make the weary laugh conquers through love. Practise this power not for applause, but for healing. Observe the world’s absurdity and learn to smile at it, for laughter does not deny sorrow—it transforms it.

In the end, Jeff Garlin’s words remind us that humour is the soul’s rebellion against despair, the quiet assurance that no matter how heavy life becomes, joy still lives within us. To make someone laugh is to perform a miracle: to pull light from the dark, to create unity from difference, and to prove, if only for a heartbeat, that we are all in this strange and beautiful world together.