Being on brand

I can tell guests in our home that I’m done, I’m going to bed, and they’re welcome to stay. If my wife made the same announcement, people would wonder what had happened. Was she upset? Had someone offended her? Should they leave? Should they phone tomorrow to check how she is feeling? 

With me, the investigation is shorter. No need to call. Howard is tired. And rude. I would like to believe this is because I have established an honest and authentic personal brand. It’s also possible that I’ve spent years lowering expectations and am now enjoying the returns. 

Either way, the identical sentence, in the identical lounge, produces an entirely different response depending on who says it. 

Donald Trump understood this long before I discovered its application to bedtime. In January 2016, he said he could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue, shoot somebody, and not lose voters. Imagine Hillary Clinton delivering that observation. I suspect the campaign team would have removed her from the microphone and begun discussing exhaustion. 

Trump was describing the loyalty of his supporters. He was also describing his brand. For an audience that expects provocation, another outrageous statement can confirm that they’ve chosen the right man. The offence becomes evidence of authenticity. He says what others won’t. The outrage from his opponents becomes part of the product. 

Closer to home, Julius Malema said in 2016, “We are not calling for the slaughter of white people, at least for now.” Those last four words do a terrifying amount of work. There was condemnation, including from the Democratic Alliance (DA) and others. But what’s clear is that it’s possible to survive outrage when outrage is already built into what people expect from you. 

Imagine a DA leader offering an equivalent qualification about another racial group. I doubt anyone would file it under colourful personality. We don’t need to imagine the DA’s sensitivity to its reputation. In 2017, it suspended Helen Zille from party activities over a comment. The statements weren’t equivalent but remain a useful comparison as to how each party understood the damage: A party selling responsible government has more to lose from sounding irresponsible. A politician selling defiance may gain from being condemned. 

That should disturb us. Familiarity can make appalling language feel routine. “That’s just Julius” isn’t an argument. Neither is “That’s just Donald”. Being predictable doesn’t make someone harmless. 

Unfortunately, the same mechanism operates in less alarming settings. The person known for being blunt is allowed to be rude. The reliable person misses one deadline and gets asked whether everything is all right. The unreliable person arrives on time and receives applause. 

Which is why a reputation for excellence can be exhausting. 

But there’s a cost to the easier arrangement too. Keep insisting that you’re the difficult one, the funny one, the one who doesn’t care, and eventually people stop expecting anything else. You might even stop offering it. 

Knowing your brand matters. So does knowing which parts deserve your loyalty and which are merely habits that other people have learned to accommodate. I can remain recognisably myself and occasionally stay up with the guests. My wife should be allowed to go to bed without triggering a diplomatic incident. Especially if everyone has accepted my invitation to stay. 

After all, someone still has to lock up.