Sometimes the smallest of things cause a strange reaction in me. On Thursday I, together with all the members of the Dorset Council Area Planning Committee of which I am a member, received an email from our chairman reminding us that it was “important to preserve and enhance our appearance of competence and professionalism when dealing with the public”. Ok. No particular problem with that. It continued that, to this end, we were encouraged “to be smartly dressed (i.e. with gentlemen in collar and ties), when appearing in person or on-line.” Mmmm. Now I do have a problem with that. But why? Apart from the fact that I hate wearing a tie (I really dislike the feel of them round my neck) and hate the Victorian formality that the phrase ‘gentlemen in collar and ties’ conjures up in me, why has this simple request haunted me for the last few days? Why was my immediate and simple reply of “no way!” insufficient? After all, what could they do if I simply ignored the request?
Part of my problem is that I have an intuitive urge to rebel, particularly at what I consider to be unnecessary rules. When I was in secondary school I was one of only three pupils in my final year not to be made a prefect. This was simply because I had refused to have my shoulder length hair cut. Why should I, I had reasoned. If girls were allowed to have hair of any length, why shouldn’t boys? What’s the difference? (Anyone who currently knows me will appreciate the irony of this!) It’s not that I am in anyway a libertarian. I do not believe that I have an intrinsic right to do whatever I like, and I do believe that, because the wider social good is more important than my own personal good, rules are important. But these rules should serve the wider social good, and if I fail to see the connection I feel at liberty to question them, and sometimes break them. At school I failed to understand the reason why I was expected to have my hair cut. I am now struggling to understand how wearing a tie preserves and enhances my appearance (my appearance, note, not my actual being) of competence and professionalism as a politician.
So how could my wearing a shirt and tie create this appearance? Well the obvious answer is that my wearing them behaves in a similar way a uniform does by signifying membership of a particular group of people – a group that adheres to a particular code of behaviour. In this case the group is possibly ‘respectable public figures’, politicians who, as public servants, adhere to the conventions expected of them. I suppose that in some way, to some people, it signals that the wearer of the ‘uniform’ is playing by the rules, is taking their role seriously, and can be trusted. But is this really how most of the 21st century residents of Dorset read the situation?
A great many people have a very negative view of the traditional politician. And let’s be honest, the picture painted above is a very traditional one. It’s a very conservative (with a smallish ‘c’) one. In an attempt to introduce new ways of working many modern businesses have left these traditions behind and radically relaxed their dress codes. Is not the same expected of at least some politicians? In order to break the myth, held by many, that politicians are ‘all the same’ and ‘in it for themselves’ it is not important to show that we are not all the same? And one way of doing this is by leaving uniforms to the uniformed services. Moreover, I think it important that some politicians are not viewed as ‘part of the establishment’ – not least because many voters, particularly Green Party supporting voters, believe that ‘the establishment’ needs a radical overhaul. So for this reason alone, I will not be wearing a tie at any Dorset Council meeting.