I don’t have a problem with people criticising me. Good job really, as it happens enough. Tell me to do something faster, make it longer, shorter, snappier, greener, cooler, smoother – yes, absolutely. But better? Better in what way? For who? How? To me, criticism is all about identifying problems and making improvements. Constructive, if you like. When criticism becomes destructive, a reassertion of power or just plain cruelty, well, what’s the point?
It’s like a coachman who whips his horses just to look impressive. The horses are trotting along at exactly the right pace; if he wanted them to turn left he could tighten the left rein, to turn right he’d pull the right rein, to slow them down he’d pull gently on both. They know the score.
But instead, every few miles he’ll give them a couple of thwacks with a grand swooshing movement of the whip, catching them square on the flanks. He feels important, needed, in control. The horses don’t have any more guidance or direction than before, but they sure know who’s boss. And they know whose head to poo on when they get the chance.
