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Gordon Brown's anger is the least of his problems

This article is more than 11 years old
Deborah Orr
If the prime minister had more admirable qualities, his temper would be tolerated
Thu 25 Feb 2010 04.00 EST

What a psychological double-bind ­Gordon Brown must have been caught in over these past few days. When things go wrong, everyone now knows, the prime minister tends to succumb to fury, bellowing at whoever happens to be handy, knocking 10 bells out of ­innocent pieces of office equipment. Not this time, though, because it would be absurd to greet accusations of ­temper-tantrums with a temper-­tantrum. So what can be done to ease the moiling frustration that must surely be infecting Brown's every ­synapse? Perhaps John Prescott will generously allow Brown to have a ­protracted nibble on his nails.

It's all so unfair. Just think. If Brown's premiership had gone without a hitch, each new decision an easy one, each new crisis patently manageable, then no one would ever have had a ­reason to encounter Brown's "dark side". But if running a country were simple, there would be no shortage of people willing to take the job on. And there is a shortage. Brown, ­Cameron, Clegg – what a bunch. Where are the perfect people? Where are the Titans? Where are the guys from the ­Kipling poem, who can keep their heads when all around are losing theirs?

Much has been said over the last few days about how "character" has never been more important in our leaders, ­especially by Andrew Rawnsley, the man who spent three years ­tediously gathering evidence of Brown's ­drearily commonplace rages. Rawnsley was more of a Blair man, and Blair had an avatar to do all that stuff for him – Alastair Campbell. Does a finer ­character get someone else to yell at the staff on their behalf, leaving their own "good cop" status intact? Or is that just the mark of a more calculating personality?

Anyway, the staff still get yelled at. The implication of all those ­posters in public buildings is that this is an ­undesirable yet ­ubiquitous ­occupational hazard: "Our staff have the right to go about their work ­without fear of abuse or attack. ­Abusive or ­violent behaviour will not be ­tolerated." Was one such poster pinned to the Downing Street notice board? Did it include a helpful ­telephone number, exhorting victims to call the national bullying helpline? It seems weird that desperately downtrodden civil ­servants, their personal resources so frail that all they could manage to achieve in life was a job at the heart of government, could not ­access advice or ­support without turning to strangers. What afflicted the staff at Downing Street? Mass hysteria?

The word "bully" has been tossed around a lot in connection with this story. Yet I see no evidence of bullying, at least as far as I understand the term. It is not pleasant to work for a boss of this kind, that's for certain. It's ­exhausting and demoralising, having to walk around on eggshells, in fear of the next loss of control. But while ­victims might feel bullied, that is not the case. Bullying is personal. Exposure to a powerful man with a short fuse is circumstantial. Brown, it is plain, does not like to be thwarted. But this has been obvious for years. That whole business of Brown entering a decade-long sulk because he only got to be chancellor – it hardly spoke of saintly good character.

Is it really true, anyway, as ­Rawnsley argues, that character is more ­important than ever? Some people suggest this is because the nature of contemporary ­media dictates that the personal foibles of public figures are more fully revealed. Others ­suggest that the "culture of victimhood" prompts people to be less accepting of behaviour that doesn't make them feel good. But maybe "character" is more "important" or "valued" for the same reason that any commodity achieves more importance or value. Maybe it is in shorter supply nowadays.

Those baleful signs on the wall at the doctor's, or on the bus – they are, after all, a fairly new phenomenon. Could it really be that until recently, public servants were happier to be sworn at, or smacked in the mouth? Or could it be that such awful behaviour has actually become more ­prevalent? Are teachers of long experience ­deluded when they say that standards of behaviour, from pupils and teachers, aren't what they used to be?

A while back, rage was all the rage, and there was much discussion about the emergence of road-rage, air-rage and a general flowering of public displays of bad temper, or just high emotion. When the footballer Paul Gascoigne was booked for a foul in the 1990 World Cup, his public tears prompted national debate. Was this a sign of his passion, his commitment, his rejection of the ghastly English emotional repression that worshipped the "stiff upper lip"? Or was it something that a man with some "control issues" might self-piteously indulge in? The unhappy answer is obvious now, but still male tears – even Brown's own tears – are seen as a controversial talking point, something people still hope might be a good thing, a sign of a more emotionally honest and open age.



Many commentators have made the point that successful leaders often ­display their ­anger, citing Winston Churchill and ­Margaret Thatcher as examples. At the Daily Mail, where ­ferocious dressing-downs are dispensed by editor Paul Dacre, there has been ­particular disgust at wimpish ­disapproval of boss-class fury. Yet the reason Brown's outbursts have not ­remained secret is ­because his more positive ­qualities are clearly not enough to inspire widespread loyalty. It's not Brown's ­anger that is the problem. It's the lack of enough of the positive character traits that might help him, and others, to put his anger in perspective.