Reeves' tears should make us rethink our worst assumptions about politicians

Reeves said she had been upset about a personal matter; the slight difference is that the Chancellor is the second most visible person in the UK Government. Her tears were widely interpreted as the result of a bust-up with the Prime Minister over the calamitous, watered-down Welfare Bill.

Had the head of His Majesty's Treasury been a male, would, in all honesty, our minds have wondered whether his boss was upsetting him so? Or would we assume that something genuinely so distressing had happened to tip them over during the most public domain TV can afford, the government front benches during Prime Minister's Questions?

The concept of the stiff British upper lip originated with the Victorians, who considered it beneath one's dignity to express emotion, a trait that Winston Churchill routinely disregarded openly.

When it came to blood, toil, tears and sweat, Churchill routinely “blubbered”. Lachrymosity was as constant a feature for Churchill as his bulldog spirit, stirring oratory, and steely resolve. Born in 1874, his patrician and aristocratic background could not suppress the man's sheer emotion. Behind the defiant V-signs, cigars, and defiant speeches was a person who wore his heart on his sleeve – but Churchill has never been decried as unmanly or irrational, and public emotion has only deepened his reputation for authenticity.

The Victorian era has left us with a problematic inheritance of sentimentality and repression. The accession of the eighteen-year-old Queen Victoria in 1837 was met with cheers and applause by crowds, at which the new monarch "burst into tears, which continued, notwithstanding an evident attempt on the part of her Majesty to restrain her feelings, to flow in torrents down her now pallid cheeks, until her Majesty retired from the window".

Victoria became a model of a grieving widow but also the epitome of Britishness as Empress of India, a title conferred on her in 1876. By the time of her death in 1901, youthful pathos had been subsumed by a cultural restraint of temper, heralded as the prerequisite for maintaining a quarter of the world.

Get daily political analysis - subscribe for free to The Steamie

In earlier periods, tearfulness did not imply a lack of manliness or self-control. The eight admirals who carried the coffin of Admiral Horatio Nelson in January 1806 at St Paul's Cathedral were in tears, as was at least half of the all-male congregation. Regency men were not expected to govern their emotions in the way that their Victorian grandsons and great-grandsons were.

Deep cynicism towards politicians

Emotions in our modern politicians are often dismissed as taboo or tactical, revealing how deeply our cynicism runs. In our media-saturated era, authenticity is a moving target. There is an innate feeling that politicians must be putting on an act. There's even a Japanese term - namida enjou – which critically refers to emotional displays used to attract sympathy or deflect criticism. In many Western cultures, women in politics are expected to be empathetic; however, they are often derided as "too emotional" if they openly express their emotions.

In classical antiquity, particularly in ancient Greece and Rome, Stoics believed that public displays of emotion, especially tears, indicated a lack of self-mastery. For leaders, weeping could suggest weakness or a failure to control passions. Roman emperors, military generals, and senators were expected to exude gravitas, a solemn dignity that left little room for tears.

Biblical and ancient Eastern traditions often portrayed rulers and prophets crying in moments of national or spiritual crisis. King David famously wept over the death of his son Absalom. In Chinese history, emperors were sometimes praised for compassionate weeping during times of famine or war. Even in the Roman world, Julius Caesar was known to cry when Alexander the Great's accomplishments were recounted to him—a blend of ambition, envy, and historical candour.

As Christianity spread throughout Europe, the concept of the "man of sorrows" gained resonance among Christian leaders, who were encouraged to emulate Christ's compassion. Monarchs and rulers could cry, but only in ways that aligned with their roles as paternalistic figures grieving for their people.

Political crying became problematic with the rise of Enlightenment values in the 17th and 18th centuries. Figures like Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin emphasised rational governance - tears were considered more suitable for the cultural and literary spheres. Male leaders were expected to display firmness and rational judgment, and to cry in public would risk ridicule or accusations of instability.

Contradictory expectations

In the 20th century, mass media, especially radio and television, brought politicians' emotions into living rooms. The expectations were contradictory: leaders were supposed to be human, available, and yet entirely unflappable.

In 1990, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher was seen with tears in her eyes as she departed from 10 Downing Street after resigning. The attitude that a senior politician 'got what they deserved' is a prevailing one: tears are seen as a sign of weakness to a baying public.

Tony Blair and New Labour were considered a huge modernising force, spearheading the 'Cool Britannia' movement. He coined the term 'People's Princess' to describe Diana in her death and is thought to be the force that convinced Queen Elizabeth II and the Royal Family to change the way they grieved publicly.

In the last 20 years, a total public collapse in political confidence has led to an unrelenting scepticism of our leaders’ motives. In 2021, when UK Health Secretary Matt Hancock was filmed tearing up during a TV interview about COVID-19 vaccines, critics accused him of faking it for political gain.

Politicians now operate in a media environment where every moment can be recorded, dissected, and memeified. The reaction to Reeves’ tears, and the presumption that ‘something else’ is going on, tells us infinitely more about how, even subconsciously, we assume the worst of all politicians. Even more telling is the cruel, inherent hypocrisy applied to male and female leaders.