Last week, the UK’s political news cycle centred around Rachel Reeves’s moment of emotion during Prime Minister’s Questions. And while it is unusual to see public emotional displays from government leaders, the media’s focus on this has massively overshadowed the important issues that are actually being discussed and debated in the Commons. It’s a shame, and it seriously undermines our natural empathy as humans.
So while it should be a non-story, the coverage of the Chancellor’s tears raises questions about society’s attitudes to emotion from public figures. Why do we expect our leaders to be unemotional? And why is a leader who restricts their emotions perceived as better than someone who embraces their feelings and works with them?
The truth is that they’re not, of course. In fact, surely it’s better for a leader to know themselves, embrace their emotions, and prove they’re handling everything they need to than to remain aloof at all times. Emotion is a marker of concern and attention; if nothing else, we now know how much Rachel Reeves cares.
There’s something innately human about the belief that a person who appears stoic and in control of their emotions is a suitable leader. Conversely, some perceive those who wear their heart on their sleeve as less stable or credible as leaders. But vulnerability is a key characteristic of modern leadership – which means we all need to learn to be more open and honest about what we’re feeling.
As a species, we’re starting to understand that people are more than they seem to be. We’ve begun to embrace the idea that even when someone appears calm and measured, they have challenges to contend with under the surface. And when those issues bubble up and make someone visibly emotional, it doesn’t make them any less capable.
Rachel Reeves embodied this. The situation in PMQs could have easily been shut down by Keir Starmer, Kemi Badenoch, or Reeves herself. But instead, she quietly allowed herself a moment of visible emotion while remaining in control and allowing PMQs to play out. This conveyed an important message: what I’m feeling is not necessarily what I think or who I am.
We see this in everyday leadership roles all the time. My immediate response is often emotional. But given a few minutes to experience that feeling, consider the issue, and come to a conclusion, I’ll return with a more pragmatic reaction that’s based on both emotion and logic. Allowing myself to feel is what helps me reach a more measured response.
Great leaders don’t think strategically about how and when they’re going to display emotion. They can be honest, real and raw about their feelings at any given moment. They know that an emotional peak may not be the best time to make decisions – but they also take ownership of how they feel and don’t shy away from sharing it. Showing vulnerability in this way can be very difficult, but it displays humanity and forges connections with others.
These traits are universal among great speakers, too. Speakers explore their personal highs and lows, pitfalls and successes, creating a story that’s designed to evoke emotion. The best speakers stay attuned to their emotions when delivering their story, connecting with the audience through genuine feelings. Audiences seek out these speakers and stories as a way of finding inspiration and empathy.
This is why the media circus around Rachel Reeves’s display of emotion is more than just unhelpful. It plays into the idea that emotional detachment is dignified and statesmanlike when, actually, emotions are what connect us. They’re what we need to empathise with others, build each other up, and thrive as a society. By modelling openness and vulnerability, our leaders can pave the way for an emotionally healthy society.
As humans, we want reassurance that those who are responsible for our government (and livelihoods) are dealing with important issues. And just as we demand that politicians and public figures take the upper hand, we should demand this of our media outlets, too. By making public fodder for politicians’ emotions, we minimise the important issues and elevate normal emotional reactions to headline status. Which isn’t a good look when the UK is dealing with a mental health crisis.
The spotlight on Rachel Reeves has also revealed society’s discomfort with seeing emotion from our leaders. While we’re moving on in our understanding of emotional and mental health, it’s not easy to keep that knowledge front and centre when confronted with a visibly upset public figure. Instead, we revert back to our stereotypical belief that someone who displays emotion isn’t in control. And this simply isn’t the case.
If we’re really so desperate to delve into the reason for Rachel Reeve’s tears, we can boil it down to two scenarios. One: she’s emotionally invested in her job, in which case we should be pleased she cares so much. Or two: she was affected by a matter in her personal life, in which case we should respect that and allow her space and privacy.
As Rachel Reeves has said since the events of PMQs, the difference between her job and most other people’s is that when she’s having a tough day, it’s on the telly. But ultimately she’s taken unapologetic ownership of her emotion that day, refusing to give in to media speculation and continuing to do her job. Anyone who’s going through a tricky time or dealing with mental issues can take solace in both the emotion and the composure shown by the Chancellor.
And she’s presented us all with a learning opportunity. The next time we feel discomfited by someone else’s emotion, we should pause before we cast judgment. Chances are, they’re going through a difficult time and experiencing emotions we’ve all felt before. And the fact that they’re unashamed to show vulnerability in how they’re feeling should be celebrated, not derided.
