Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela in Clint Eastwood's Invictus. Photograph: Keith Bernstein
There was a flurry of press coverage earlier this month when the young, gay, Catholic, rising star Labour leader of Glasgow City Council Steven Purcell left office suffering from acute ’stress and exhaustion’.
It soon became known that he had earlier checked in briefly to a facility specialising in the treatment of drug and alcohol disorders. And the politicking now continues in earnest to take a closer look at the decisions he took whilst in office. Purcell himself is said to have left the country.
I was moved to write about these events in The Scotsman newspaper. Not about the individual case, but about what it reveals of the culture of politics and the public sector.
Purcell’s fall for me is a reminder that, whatever else was going on in his life, ’stress and exhaustion’ were entirely predictable symptoms for any person in his role today. This was not only a story about an individual under pressure, but another sign of a rising trend.
We all cling to work, even while it consumes us, because the structured environment of an organisation has in the past been very effective in keeping the anxieties and uncertainties of the outside world at bay. IFF has written a good deal about the challenge to that view in a world of rapid change and instability - for example in a piece on ‘psychological literacy and the future of HR’.
But for most of us work is still a place where we hope to find a zone of competence and security. This is doubly true of government. Not only is it expected to cocoon its employees, we also project on to government an expectation that it will protect us all.
But as the financial crisis and its cruel aftermath have shown (again), in today’s world no politician and no organisation can reliably make such a promise.
Steven Purcell is not the first to succumb to the pressure of trying. Nor will he be the last. Andrew Rawnsley’s revelations about Tony Blair’s depression and Gordon Brown’s bullying speak to the stresses of high political office and the impossible demands we make on our leaders. As Jonathan Freedland put it in The Guardian, to be prime minister “only superheroes need apply“.
Closer to my home in Scotland, it is not long ago that Peter Peacock stood down from the Scottish Government on the advice of his doctor. He remained an MSP, but ministerial duty was deemed bad for his health.
At the same time (November 2006), the then First Minister Jack McConnell gave a revealing interview on his five years in office and what they had cost in personal terms. He said: “There have been times when I have thought, is what I am doing what I believe in? What am I achieving? Given the amount of pressure that’s on the family and the ways things have had to change, is it worth it?”
But the pressure, the stress, the overwhelm, the feeling of under-achievement are not confined to our leaders. They have become endemic in the public sector - and the recession is only making things worse.
I have compared notes on this with Bill Wilkerson, the founder of the Global Business and Economic Roundtable on Mental Health, based in Canada, where the problem is taken seriously.
He describes depression in the public sector as a’public health crisis‘. ”The public service is the most transient, fluid, unsettling work environment on the planet, so why wouldn’t people be anxious and in distress? They are human beings.”
In my experience, it is the people who care, the people who want to make a difference, who suffer most - or at least most obviously - in this system. The people we are always encouraging to be innovative and creative and to take more risks.
Do we ever ask why it is so difficult to do so? These are the people left most frustrated, or worse, in an anxious and fearful culture in which aspiration takes a distant second place to delivery and the answer to any setback is to spin the hamster wheel faster.
They chafe against an unresponsive culture. But the alternatives are worse. Toughen up. Accept that this is a brutal political world of “clunking fists”, “balls of steel” and men behaving badly. How can we be wisely led in the 21st century by people who have to deny their better nature in this way? And what must it be like to work in such a culture?
Otherwise, just keep your head down, grin and bear it, give up hope of making a difference, serve out your time and pick up the pension. But this, too, is damaging. It is what Henry Thoreau had in mind when he spoke of most men living lives of “quiet desperation”.
There are no easy answers. But the first step is to recognise the problem. This is a cultural challenge, on a global scale; the challenge of learning how to live well with each other in fearful times. And it will require conscious cultural intervention.
Clint Eastwood’s new film, Invictus, about Nelson Mandela’s role in winning the Rugby World Cup for South Africa, is a masterclass in such intervention.
There is a scene in which his security guard refuses to work with Special Branch, oppressors from the old regime. Mandela is firm: “That was the past. We are looking to the future. We are growing a new culture for a new South Africa. A culture of compassion and forgiveness. And that culture must start here, with us.”
It really is that simple. It is not about indicators, strategies and performance measures. It is about culture. And it starts here. With us.
Tags: culture change, governance, health, management, mental health, resilience