‘Do as I say, not as I do’ is one of those phrases that, from the heart, can illuminate and provide insight and wisdom. I love its appeal as a prologue to the sagacity and experience of the utterer. Whomever speaks these words is by admission opening themselves up to a conversation about their own personality flaw or where they’d gone wrong in the past. However, it can be construed as hypocritical and dismissive, authoritarian and contradictory and this can blight the authentic power of this phrase – because spoken well it can, like a spell, alter pathways and outcomes into a much better place for those who hear it.
The phrase could be the motto for the any person who tacitly or experientially understands why a decision or way of acting might have bad consequences for someone else in a similar situation. Still, when I reflect a little deeper, it’s a phrase that promotes that most frustrating nature of our humanity – the person I am in my mind is still better than the person I am in the moment. “Do as I say” (for the person I was back then was right) “Not as I do” (for the person I am now is still flawed)
Today I want to talk about this phrase used at its best; spoken by the person with good intent.
“Do as I say, not as I do” I will argue is another example of how our imagined selves are always so much better than our clumsy, thoughtless, awkward real selves and there’s some ancient philosophy at work which might shed some light on why that’s the case. This phrase, at its best, establishes that none of us are perfect and all are vulnerable to error and that where we have experienced perfection in some action in the past, our realisation of how well it went often only comes after the event, where reflection provides the building blocks to construct another positive component or facet of our ideal self.
Let’s have an example. In fact, I will use the last time I uttered the incantation. As a teacher, particularly of adolescent students, it can be difficult to methodically and in stark detail explain to them why their actions (or lack of action) may be drawing the ire and frustration of another teacher. You don’t want to dive too deep into the complexity of adult human interaction with a fourteen-year-old and equally you don’t want to speak with too much familiarity about the idiosyncrasies of a colleague. It last occurred in a conversation with an embattled Middle Schooler who seemed to consistently run into trouble with a particular teacher. I was recalling to this 8th Grader how ‘when I was his age’ (cringe) I had a similar combative relationship with one of my teachers. But I wanted the 8th grader to know that my own feelings of frustration at the time with that teacher all those years ago were justified (and still smart *insert undisclosed number of years* later) but rather than act mindfully I acted on emotion and dug myself a deeper hole which ultimately hung a label round my neck which followed me into High School. Returning to this current conversation, I knew there would be sway within the empathy of ‘I know what you’re going through’ in my chat with the student but what I can’t disclose to this young man is that there’s a power imbalance in the teacher’s favour at play that is too great to overcome and that there was a way to play’the game which would not only ameliorate the situation but could offer a life skill moment for future encounters. At which point I am left with no option but to tell him straight what to do and hope my own story of woe resonates and thereby complete the ritual of ‘Do as I say, not as I do”
But it’s not technically ‘Do as I say, not as I do’ is it? It’s ‘Do as I say, not as I did’. However, I can rectify that by saying, with a degree of confidence and the backing of plenty witnesses (mostly long-suffering friends and a weary, smiling wife) that I still let my emotions rule the moment. I still allow overwhelming feelings of injustice put me in fight mode when oft times ‘flight’ is the more sensible course of action. So, the perfect ‘Dillon’ (rationale, thoughtful, wise) is usurped by the actual ‘imperfect’ Dillon (impatient, passionate, headstrong).
So now we have a concrete example of the contradictory nature of the phrase. Often, acting with pure emotion in a heated scenario can lead to a worsening of the situation. Keep a level head and act rationally and not, as I do, which is more often than not reply “Oh! You think that do you? Well, let me tell ya….”
Reflecting on past successes add to our internal rendering of our own ‘ideal form’ or ‘ideal self’. The Greek philosopher Plato believed in ‘the forms’. He held that there exists the perfect form of what we consider to be abstract entities. Perfect form of justice, perfect form of courage etc. Let me put it this way; you and I can disagree on whether a painting in a gallery is truly beautiful, each holding a subjective opinion as to what counts as beauty. However, we both agree that there is such a thing as ‘beauty’. Furthermore, for Plato there really does exist the ‘perfect form’ of beauty which we as humans can never actually experience but the sense of which is somehow imprinted into our minds at birth (and the whole metaphysic of that claim is for another day).
I think that such a concept of ‘perfect form of self’ is also within us and like Plato’s forms is unattainable. Instead it is such a thing as we strive too be. Examples of falling short might be coming up with the witty call back hours after a difficult and flawed encounter – or being able to better recall facts to win an argument after the moment has passed. We are always so much smarter, faster and better after the event.
Like the perfect forms such as ‘beauty’ and ‘courage’ we can accept objectively there’s such a thing as an ‘ideal self’. Then we act as the subjective architect and construction engineer of our own ‘ideal self’ (just as we accept there’s an objective form of ‘beauty’ and begin to construct our own tastes that reflect that ideal form). This is done through experiences of societal and cultural influences, the good and bad, the ups and downs giving us the data to create an imprint of our ideal selves (based on an objective concept of such a thing) which should inform us as to the best way to act. But like so much about the world we perceive – our ideal self can become kaleidoscopic and illusory. We lose sight of the ideal self as being a template and aspirational and look for different ‘ideal selves’ or even believe the ideal self is expected. ‘Ideal Parent’ ‘Ideal Work Colleague’ Ideal Student’ How could we ever consistently be so many different things to different people? And more worryingly, why should we always expect to be…perfect?
‘Do as I say, not as I do’ is probably the coda that breaks that ineffable goal, and rightly so. When the content of our advice or guidance is packaged clearly and authentically with this phrase and delivered with humility it can, to some degree, also reinforce the most human trait we all possess…that none of us are perfect and where we have had success it is from the guidance of others and limned with our past failures. If we accept Plato’s idea of an ‘ideal form’ of self then we must also accept that we will never truly know that ideal form and that’s okay for it’s meant to be a template to draw our identity on not a puzzle to complete. ‘Do as I say, not as I do’ says: we still fall on our faces – it just doesn’t have to hurt as much is all.
StoatAubergine 