Sovereignty and who’s wearing the trousers
APPARENTLY ‘Yes-men’ – and presumably ‘Yes-women’ – are usually lying when they agree with us. They are trying to make us feel good, because they find disagreeing too stressful.
But there are times when we need to know, either that people genuinely like what we do, or if not, explain where they think we have gone wrong, or could improve*.
Did we really need a study by scientists at Monash University in Australia to tell us that the toadies, who consistently tell us what we want to hear, are not always purveyors of the truth?
The report concluded that never being able to disagree with others can ‘lead to poor decision-making, anxiety, or difficulties in interpersonal relationships.’
Mr Cameron had no trouble disagreeing with European leaders while trying to strike a deal to protect our interests, but now some of his former ‘yes-men’ appear to be backing the other side, and will be campaigning to get out.
Our PM has re-written the rules (a bit) and now we only have until June to make up our minds if we want to pull up the drawbridge. Before then, we desperately need some honest debate to help us choose whether to make a go of our Euro marriage, or agree an amicable separation. What we don’t want is a nasty divorce.
Please, MPs – and that includes our own Boris Johnson – let’s have no hissy fits, in-fighting, party divide or political posturing.
This is too important to get wrong and we want to know when we put our crosses on the referendum ballot paper, that – when we are long gone – we have done the right thing for future inhabitants of this green and (hopefully still-pleasant) land.
MY EYE was also caught by a study in the Journal of Social Psychology which revealed that female colleagues are regarded as professionally competent if they wear trousers.
When I was a teacher, the opposite view was the case and trousers were regarded as very inappropriate for female staff.
I was amused recently to find a photo of me, taken in a 1970s staffroom in Greenford, wearing a mini skirt, paired with knee-high boots. How on earth was that deemed more respectable than a garment that completely covered every inch of flesh? *Note to Mr F: the whole truth may not be desirable where opinions of hair and clothes are concerned.