Professionalism Over Politics

I’ve seen excellence, and I’ve seen exceptional cruelty. I’ve also seen women I absolutely adored turn out to be completely different people from who I thought they were. I’ve worked alongside some truly remarkable women in education, women who have been generous with their knowledge, challenged me, supported me and made me better at what I do. I’ve also encountered women whose behaviour has left me wondering how on earth we’ve reached a point where making another woman’s professional life difficult has somehow become an acceptable part of workplace politics. Do they even know there are better games to play?

I find that particularly sad because I’m a huge believer in women supporting women, although I don’t expect us all to get along simply because we’re women. We’re human beings; we’ll disagree, irritate one another and sometimes get things disastrously wrong. But there’s a massive difference between disagreeing with somebody professionally and going out of your way to make their working life unpleasant. The first can be useful; the second is something we ought to feel much safer talking about.

Talking with people from other schools recently has reminded me of some of my own rather silly experiences. On a non-teaching day, when more than half the staff weren’t even in school, I printed over 25 sheets of paper, which apparently warranted a reminder to everyone. I’d never been told there was a 25-page limit, and it certainly wasn’t a rule I’d seen routinely enforced, so why not just come and have a conversation with me? If there’s a rule, tell me. I’m perfectly capable of following it (I love being the best at following rules! :)), and if I’ve done something wrong, I’m more than happy to be corrected. Instead, we had a general announcement that left me wondering whether it was aimed at me. Then there was the same woman stalking my documents despite having no responsibility for overseeing my work?! If you’re spending your holiday going through my spreadsheets, you might as well ask for a signed photograph. I’m not a celebrity, nor photogenic in any way, but I’ll happily leave a signed one on your desk because this is practically begging for it. Joking aside, there’s something deeply uncomfortable about opening a spreadsheet and wondering why somebody is in there watching what you’re doing, or whether they’re looking for something they can use against you. I don’t know what she was hoping to find, and no feedback or comments were ever made, but I do know how it made me feel.

Have you ever experienced something equally weird at work, something so petty that you almost felt ridiculous mentioning it? That’s what can make these incidents so difficult to talk about. You brush one off because it doesn’t seem worth the fuss, then another happens, and another, perhaps involving the same person or the same oddly selective expectations. There may be a reasonable explanation for any one of them, but together they can leave you second-guessing ordinary decisions and wondering why you’re suddenly uncomfortable doing a job you used to get on with quite happily. The small things don’t automatically amount to bullying, but they don’t become harmless simply because they’re small either.

When did politics become professionalism?

I don’t object to accountability. Quite the opposite, actually. I want to be good at what I do, and I don’t think there’s much chance of that happening if I surround myself with people who only ever tell me how wonderful I am. I make mistakes, sometimes quite spectacular ones (go hard or go home!), and I’d much rather somebody pointed them out so I could learn something or apologise. I’ve worked for leaders who were exceptionally demanding, and I’ve loved working for them. You knew what was expected, you knew when you’d done something well, and you knew where you could improve. They didn’t have to embarrass you or catch you out to demonstrate that they were in charge. Some of the most impressive leaders I’ve known have been perfectly comfortable admitting when they’d made a mistake or when somebody else knew more than they did. They’d ask questions, listen and learn, which I’ve always thought was a rather lovely quality in a leader and one I certainly aspire to myself.

Some of my surprise at workplace politics likely comes from how I was brought up. I’m from the North of England, and my family is Welsh and northern, so I’ve grown up around people who are generally pretty direct. If you’ve got something to say, you say it, and if there’s a problem, you have a conversation about it. I’m not suggesting that northerners or Welsh people are immune to politics, because we’re hardly a different species, but I’ve always valued knowing where I stand. You might not enjoy hearing it, but at least you’ve got a chance to respond. I’ve been surprised by environments where people seem happier discussing a concern with everyone except the person involved, or where asking a reasonable question is regarded as being difficult.

I don’t think wanting people to be direct is a problem with me, and I know being straightforward isn’t an excuse to be rude. What I struggle with is how avoiding conversations, making insinuations or selectively applying expectations can be dressed up as professionalism, whilst the person asking for clarity becomes troublesome. I’ve always liked Brené Brown’s clear is kind, because I’d far rather hear something uncomfortable directly than discover that somebody has been expressing concerns about me elsewhere. Wouldn’t you?

Some of the nastiest workplace politics doesn’t involve shouting or dramatic confrontation. It can be a little dig disguised as concern, a mistake mentioned to someone who has no reason to know about it, an invitation that mysteriously doesn’t arrive, or a quiet suggestion that a colleague isn’t suited to their role. Perhaps there’s a legitimate concern, but why isn’t it being addressed properly? When these comments come from somebody senior, they can acquire an authority they haven’t necessarily earned. Have you ever assumed something negative about a colleague was credible simply because the person saying it had a title? A title doesn’t make somebody automatically fair, trustworthy or right.. but it carries the power to damage another person.

A person’s reputation can be influenced in rooms they’re not in, without them ever knowing what was said or having an opportunity to respond. I’m not suggesting every negative comment is a smear campaign, or that we can know another person’s intentions from a few odd interactions. But if the same person is repeatedly scrutinised, excluded or spoken about negatively, surely we should look at the pattern rather than find a separate excuse for every incident? It’s difficult to explain something that sounds ridiculous when reduced to one example, even though living with it has become anything but funny.

Silence and stoicism aren’t professionalism

Something else I’ve noticed is how often silence and stoicism are confused with professionalism, particularly in workplaces where people don’t feel safe speaking up. There’s an expectation that professional people quietly get on with things, don’t complain and certainly don’t make anybody uncomfortable by questioning what’s happening. Staying composed can be sensible, and sometimes keeping quiet is genuinely the safest choice, but neither silence nor stoicism is proof of professionalism. Both can become convenient political tools when leaders care more about appearing reasonable than examining their own behaviour.

Somebody raises a concern and suddenly the conversation is about their tone, whether they should have been more discreet or whether they’re being difficult. Of course how we communicate matters, but it’s convenient when the manner of a complaint becomes more important than the concern. You get to preserve your view of yourself as a good leader, whilst the person challenging you becomes the problem. How wonderfully convenient! We’ve spent years encouraging women in education to find their voices and advocate for themselves, so it’s a peculiar contradiction when a woman who actually does so is treated as though her confidence is the issue.

Have you ever stayed quiet when you knew something wasn’t right, or watched somebody being treated poorly but felt powerless to do anything about it? In international education, contracts, references, visas and professional networks can make challenging authority risky, and I wouldn’t judge somebody for protecting their livelihood. Those of us who can help might think more carefully about what we repeat, whose version of events we accept and whether we can safely acknowledge what we’ve witnessed. Silence may be understandable; it shouldn’t be mistaken for agreement or demanded in the name of professionalism. Have you seen the person having an emotional reaction getting the blame and the thing that caused it being dismissed? That’s politics at its finest.

The little things we allow

I remember an amazing leader once telling me, when we were talking about behaviour management of students, “When we sweat the small stuff, the big stuff doesn’t happen”. I’ve held that and used it more than I thought I would. Not every awkward conversation needs an investigation but the little behaviours we overlook can become what a school quietly learns to tolerate. We talk constantly, and rightly, about students feeling safe and belonging. I wish we were just as willing to notice when the adults around them are becoming frightened to ask questions, worried about their reputations or exhausted by somebody else’s petty games. Cause when it’s petty, who can you really talk to without looking completely insane?!

I’ve also wondered how many people reach the point of needing help only to discover they can’t remember half the details. Have you ever looked back on a difficult period at work and realised how many little things you’d brushed aside? At the time you remember how a comment made you feel, but six months later could you say exactly when it happened, who was in the room or what was actually said? Trying to piece it together when you’re already stressed, upset or worried about your job is horrid, particularly if you’re then expected to explain it all to HR.

I’d encourage people to record the odd incidents early, especially if they start to recur. I’ve put together (with AI help) an incident and evidence tracker to make that easier, so that if you ever decide to ask for advice or speak to HR, you’re not starting with a blank page and a head full of memories you can’t quite put in order. I’m not suggesting we should all record every irritating thing our colleagues do (we’d never get any work done!), but keeping a fair account of repeated concerns isn’t petty or unprofessional. It’s a way of protecting yourself while you decide what, if anything, needs to happen next.

If you’re on the receiving end of this sort of behaviour, there’s something else I’d encourage you to remember; it isn’t necessarily about you. Another person’s insecurity, frustrations or approach to leadership can influence how they treat the people around them, and there are any number of reasons why somebody might choose to direct their unpleasant behaviour towards you. Sometimes those reasons will become obvious, and sometimes you’ll never know what the heck their problem was. We can waste an awful lot of time trying to understand people who have behaved badly towards us, questioning ourselves and wondering what we could have done differently, but you can’t take responsibility for somebody else’s behaviour, and you certainly can’t make them become a better person. If they want to reflect, change and grow, that’s a decision they’ll have to make for themselves. In the meantime, concentrate on looking after yourself, doing your job well, surrounding yourself with people who genuinely value you and taking the steps you need to protect yourself.

Some people really do behave horribly towards others, and I think we need to be more willing to acknowledge that. Miley Cyrus said: “I didn’t talk badly about you. I talked about what you did to me”. That’s a great distinction, particularly when we’re talking about bullying and workplace politics. We should be able to describe what we’ve experienced, raise legitimate concerns and present the facts without being made to feel that we’ve somehow behaved unprofessionally because those facts reflect badly on somebody else. Of course, we have a responsibility to be fair and accurate, but we don’t have a responsibility to protect someone from scrutiny simply because their behaviour might be uncomfortable to examine. Listening to concerns, establishing what happened and addressing poor behaviour is professional. Covering for somebody, dismissing concerns or judging the person who had the courage to speak up? That’s politics.

Perhaps we could spend a little less time worrying about looking professional, and a little more time making sure we’re actually behaving that way?