When Jesters Were the Original Influencers: A Medieval Take on Celebrity Culture

Posted by Sgt. Grumpy | May 28, 2025

Right, let’s have a proper chat about something that’s been rattling around my head lately. You know how we’re constantly moaning about celebrities spouting off about politics, climate change, or whatever cause is trendy this week? “Stick to acting!” we shout at our screens. “What does a pop star know about foreign policy?”

Well, turns out this isn’t exactly a new phenomenon. In fact, our ancestors were dealing with the exact same bollocks back in medieval times. The only difference? Their “influencers” wore bells and told jokes for a living.

The Original News Network: Minstrels, Troubadours, and Medieval Social Media

Picture this: You’re a peasant in some godforsaken village in 1300-something. No internet, no newspapers, no BBC News at Six. Hell, most people couldn’t even read. Your world extends about as far as you can walk in a day without getting murdered by bandits or eaten by wolves.

Then along comes a traveling minstrel with a lute, some questionable hygiene, and stories from the big wide world. Suddenly, this bloke in motley becomes your entire connection to everything happening beyond your muddy little hamlet.

Sound familiar? It bloody well should.

These medieval entertainers weren’t just there to juggle and tell dirty jokes (though they did plenty of that). They were the walking, talking equivalent of today’s social media feed – a mix of entertainment, news, gossip, and complete nonsense all rolled into one package. And just like today’s celebrities, people hung on their every word, even when they probably shouldn’t have.

The Medieval Influencer Economy

Here’s where it gets interesting from an investigative standpoint. These minstrels occupied a unique position in medieval society – they were simultaneously essential and despised. Sound like anyone we know? cough Twitter celebrities cough

The authorities absolutely hated them. John of Salisbury, a 12th-century scholar, literally argued that princes should “exterminate rather than encourage” actors and entertainers. That’s medieval speak for “please stop giving these people platforms.”

But here’s the thing – they couldn’t get rid of them because people actually needed them. In a world where news traveled at the speed of horse, these performers were often the only way villagers learned about wars, political changes, or even major events happening a few towns over.

The Robin Hood Factor

One of the most telling aspects of medieval minstrel culture was their obsession with outlaw ballads, particularly stories about Robin Hood. Now, from a police perspective, this is fascinating. These entertainers were essentially spreading anti-establishment propaganda disguised as entertainment.

The author of “Piers Ploughman” captured this perfectly when he had a character boast that while he didn’t know the Lord’s Prayer, he damn well knew every Robin Hood ballad by heart. That’s medieval society choosing entertainment over official doctrine – and it should sound very familiar to anyone watching modern politics.

Why This Matters Today

So why am I banging on about medieval entertainers on a blog that usually deals with UFOs, cryptids, and conspiracy theories? Because understanding this historical pattern helps us approach modern celebrity influence with a bit more perspective.

The human tendency to listen to charismatic entertainers isn’t some modern failing brought on by social media and 24-hour news cycles. It’s been hardwired into us for centuries. We’ve always been drawn to people who can package information in entertaining, emotionally engaging ways – even when those people have no particular expertise in what they’re talking about.

The Skeptical Approach

Now, before you think I’m defending celebrity political hot takes, let me be clear: I’m not. What I am doing is recognizing that this is a pattern worth understanding rather than just moaning about.

As someone who spent 20 years in the police, I learned that understanding why people believe certain things is often more useful than just dismissing them as idiots. The medieval evidence shows us that the appeal of entertainer-delivered information isn’t about intelligence or education – it’s about human psychology and social structure.

Medieval peasants weren’t stupid for listening to minstrels. They were responding to the information environment they found themselves in, just like we are today. The difference is that we have more options for verification and fact-checking – we just don’t always use them.

The Eternal Return

What really gets me is how consistent the complaints are across the centuries. Medieval church authorities worried about minstrels spreading “false stories” and corrupting moral values. Sound familiar? Plus ça change, as the French say (though they probably weren’t saying much of anything useful in medieval times, let’s be honest).

The authorities then, like critics now, recognized that entertainers had real power to shape public opinion. The difference was that medieval rulers were smart enough to co-opt this power rather than just complaining about it. Many courts employed their own minstrels specifically to spread favorable narratives.

Modern politicians could learn something from this approach, though I suspect many already have.

Final Thoughts

So next time you’re getting wound up about some actor’s latest political rant or a musician’s hot take on economic policy, remember: we’ve been dealing with this exact situation for over a thousand years. The platforms change, the costumes get better, but the fundamental dynamic remains the same.

The real question isn’t why people listen to celebrities – it’s whether we’ve gotten any better at distinguishing between entertainment and reliable information. Based on my years investigating various claims and conspiracy theories for this channel, I’d say the jury’s still out on that one.

Medieval minstrels at least had the excuse of being their audience’s only source of outside information. What’s our excuse?

What do you think? Are we just medieval peasants with smartphones? Let me know in the comments below, and don’t forget to like and subscribe if you want more historical perspective on modern madness.

Sgt. Grumpy investigates the weird, the wonderful, and the probably-nonsense from his base in Glasgow. When he’s not debunking UFO videos or explaining why chemtrails are just contrails, he explores the historical roots of human gullibility.