My M&S Joggers: Making Difficult Disclosures in Public Places

'Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides.’
André Malraux

We had a few friends over for dinner and there was a lull in the conversation. This might be the time, I thought, to mention my M&S joggers. 

And so I began:

‘I read an article the other day about people making random purchases during lockdown - to alleviate the boredom. Well I’ve decided to jump on board the casualisation trend by buying myself some navy Marks & Spencer’s joggers. With a matching hoodie.’

My wife looked across at me – in silence.

‘Really, Jim?’ said a friend. ’When are you planning on wearing them?’

‘I thought I’d loaf around the house a bit on a quiet day. They’ll be fine for popping to the gym or down to the shops. Maybe I could wear them at the local. Actually the joggers and hoodie look rather good together as a matching pair.’ 

I sensed my wife’s gaze from the other end of the table. A frown had formed on her face. Still she said nothing. But I knew what she was thinking. 

She would regard any departure in the direction of sports casual-wear as an ominous lowering of sartorial standards, a first step on the slippery slope towards sloth and indolence; a concession to age and decay. She would not approve.

Indeed the anticipation of my wife’s censure had prompted me to raise the subject at a social gathering. I’ve determined over the years that it’s best to make difficult disclosures in public situations. It diminishes the displeasure; diffuses the danger. It cushions the crime in a soft layer of gentle admonishments and light-hearted reproach.

‘Bit of a change from wearing suits all day, Jim.’

‘Are you sure you’re sporty enough for joggers?’

Indeed one of our dinner guests actually commended me on my good taste.

‘Well, I think they sound great. Everyone likes joggers. Have you tried them on?’

‘Yes, and I’ve bought a grey set too!’

I think there may be a lesson here for brands. Don’t suppress your secrets, or cover up your mistakes. Don’t whisper them quietly in the hope they’ll not be noticed; or confess them only to the few who are directly affected. Rather you should expose your blunders to the sunlight of popular scrutiny; acknowledge your missteps in the court of public opinion. You may find that people respect your openness, accept your contrition and forgive your failings. 

‘Three things cannot long stay hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth.’
Buddha

I’ve still not properly worn my M&S joggers and hoodie combo. I’ve been waiting for a bout of illness, or a festive season, or a weekend in the country…

But I still think they look rather fine.

'If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.'
George Orwell
 

'There's a note underneath your front door
That I wrote twenty years ago.
Yellow paper and a faded picture
And a secret in an envelope.
There's no reasons, no excuses,
There's no second-hand alibis.
Just some black ink
On some blue lines and a shadow you won't recognize.’
The Civil Wars, '20 Years', (J Williams / John White)

No. 376

Anatomy of a Rumour: How Do We Protect Truth in an Environment that Favours Falsehood?

‘A lie can be halfway round the world while truth is putting on its shoes.’
Attributed to Mark Twain and Winston Churchill among others…

In the splendid 1959 courtroom drama ‘Anatomy of a Murder’ James Stewart plays a lawyer defending an army lieutenant charged with murder. When cross-examining a medical expert, Stewart asks a question that impugns the integrity of the prosecuting officers. He knows this is improper, admits it and withdraws the remark.

The lieutenant is confused, and asks Stewart: ‘How can a jury disregard what it's already heard?’

Stewart shakes his head and replies: ‘They can't, lieutenant. They can’t.’

This is a relatively benign use of a tactic that is not uncommon in the fields of law, journalism and politics: alluding to something that may not be relevant, provable or even true, and trusting that people will remember.

In his 1972 magazine series, ‘Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail’, Hunter S Thompson related a sinister tale of Lyndon Johnson canvassing in Texas:

'The race was close and Johnson was getting worried. Finally he told his campaign manager to start a massive rumour campaign about his opponent’s life-long habit of enjoying carnal knowledge of his barnyard sows.

‘Christ, we can’t get away with calling him a pig-f****r,’ the campaign manager protested. ‘Nobody’s going to believe a thing like that.’

‘I know,’ Johnson replied. ‘But let’s make the sonofab****h deny it.’'

We can all recall stories, gossip and rumours that attach themselves to modern politicians and celebrities. Hearsay and innuendo, suggestions of scandal, tend to endure, despite their being unsubstantiated and unproven. We can’t un-hear what we have heard; un-see what we have seen; un-think what we have thought.

Of course, this is nothing new. We’re familiar with the cancerous effect of Iago’s lies in Shakespeare’s Othello.

‘I’ll pour this pestilence into his ear.’

In 1710 the essayist Jonathan Swift wrote:

‘If a Lie be believ’d only for an Hour, it has done its Work, and there is no farther occasion for it. Falsehood flies, and the Truth comes limping after it; so that when Men come to be undeceiv’d, it is too late; the Jest is over, and the Tale has had its Effect.’

The problem is that the more scurrilous, extraordinary and unlikely a story is, the more it lends itself to re-telling; the more we want to share it, regardless of whether we know it to be true. A lie is generally more compelling than the truth. It disperses by chain reaction, with incredible velocity. Indeed, as Vladimir Lenin said:
‘A lie told often enough becomes the truth.'

Sadly the social media age seems to have amplified and accelerated this phenomenon. The dice are increasingly loaded in favour of half-truths and misrepresentation. Lies are faster, more nimble, more addictive than ever before. And we are all complicit. We like to gossip, to spread the news, to pass on a story. We freely re-tweet, share and endorse. We may occasionally pause to question sources, or reflect on impacts. But we often unwittingly participate in the distribution of falsehood.

‘I can prove it’s rumour. I can’t prove it’s fact.’
Rudy Giuliani, former Mayor of New York and now President Donald Trump’s lawyer

And so inevitably we arrive at the era of fake news, alternative facts and ‘would’ meaning ‘wouldn’t’. And our heads are endlessly spinning because, as Rudy Giuliani recently observed, ‘Truth isn’t truth.’

The Ancient Cretan philosopher Epimenides once stated that all Cretans are liars. Was he lying or telling the truth? This is the Liar’s Paradox, and it feels sometimes that we all now inhabit one gigantic, all-consuming Liar’s Paradox. We’re trying to navigate a maze of untruth. Fiction and fabrication tie us in knots, confuse and confound us. They sow doubt and erode trust. They gnaw away at the ties that bind us. We become suspicious, paranoid. We don’t know who to believe.

'I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you.'
Friedrich Nietzsche

So what can we do?

'Trust, but verify’
President Ronald Reagan

Of course, we need Governments and the digital titans to play their part and embrace this challenge of our times. We need a New Deal for Publishing, something that recognizes the realities of contemporary platforms and behaviours.

Brands too have a part to play. They need to rekindle their age-old association with trust and reliability; become once again a source of credible claims and dependable commitments.

But perhaps more broadly we need a new ethical code more suited to the modern age. We need to adapt our behaviour at work and in life: to place a greater premium on facts; to demand verification and substantiation; to support institutions and publications that stand up for truth. We should be subscribing to reputable news platforms. (Maybe we could even buy a newspaper!)

We should also consider moderating our natural propensity to spread rumours; curtailing our inclination to share and pass on. We can no longer excuse slander and defamation as idle chat or locker room banter. We can no longer defend falsehood in the name free speech. Gossip must become less socially acceptable.

Ultimately we may need to take a stand. As George Orwell is reputed to have said:

'In a time of universal deceit — telling the truth is a revolutionary act.’

No. 196