The new rules for crying in public
Sometimes it’s OK, but it’s not what we want all the time … especially not on the front line
You will have seen the fallout re the new Army recruitment adverts. In a nutshell, they have gone a bit sensitive, petal. The Army wants prospective recruits to know that it’s fine to try a bit (no pressure to be the best, guys, just do what you can) and it’s OK to cry.
This has got us thinking because it’s not really, is it? It might be OK to shed a tear out of sight behind a kit locker door, at the end of a three-day siege, but not, for example, when you are radioing for air support (say again, over?); or rallying the troops; or attending to wounds; or Skypeing your five-yearold on Christmas Day; or visiting Sergeant Smith in Stoke Mandeville Hospital. It’s not OK for soldiers to cry for the same reasons that it is better for all of us to keep it together in certain circumstances: because the alternative is bad for other people.
Kate at the school gate on Charlotte’s first day at nursery – definitely not crying. Your next of kin outside the operating theatre doors minutes before the big op – not crying. Your boss after the redundancy rumours, your mother when she sees your new haircut, the policeman called to your burglary – all not crying because it’s their job not to.
On my wedding day I happened to mention to the lady doing the canapés that I thought I might cry. “You will do no such thing,” she said, sternly. “It’s not what people want from you.” (Not all about me, I quite forgot!) And that’s the rule with crying, the one rule for soldiers and mums and employers and politicians alike: cry all you like, unless it is a far, far better thing for everyone if you don’t.
Did anyone want to see Churchill crying in our darkest hour, sniffling and swallowing a bit towards the end of “We Will Never Surrender”? No they did not. Did you want to see Matthew Pinsent crying on the Olympic podium (the last time I remember the rules of crying coming up)? Absolutely fine by us.
This is nothing to do with manliness. We didn’t want to see the Queen crying at Grenfell Tower, either. Or Theresa May breaking down at any point (for a moment during the coughing incident we feared the worst) – and, God knows, she has had reasons to weep over the past six months. Did Katharine Graham, publisher of The
Washington Post, sob her way through the Pentagon Papers crisis? We think not, and that’s why she is famous and Meryl Streep is playing her in a new Oscar-tipped film.
Big boys and girls with big responsibilities don’t cry because it scares the living daylights out of the people they are responsible for reassuring, and makes them less able to do their jobs. If Obama wants to cry when his daughter graduates, that’s a different matter.
Here, then, are the up-to-date crying rules, for anyone who is confused about expectations.
Some crying is OK when giving speeches but not if the speech is about your own awesomeness in a movie/your astonishing success.
It is normal for fathers to cry for reasons of paternal pride, and in the delivery room.
Everyone can cry in kitchens, thanks to
Masterchef and TGBBO.
It’s called “kitchen release”. Also during 24
Hours in A&E, Blue Planet, and dramas starring Sarah Lancashire.
Crying by proxy is a thing. For example, when Sam Cam wept outside Downing Street during David’s resignation speech. Sometimes it helps if someone does the crying for you (see also David Miliband’s wife).
Guilt crying leaves us entirely cold. The way the Queen cries – silent tears and trying not to – is the crying mode we most respect in our leaders.
And when it comes to the Army, can we just get back to Be the Best, and the bravest?
‘Did anyone want to see Churchill crying in our darkest hour? No they did not’