I recently had a touch of sciatica, at least that’s what I called it when the kids were asking why I was grunting and groaning so much. ‘Bloody painful’ was what I called it when nobody was listening.

Have you noticed how we all have a tendency to indulge in euphemisms when it comes to dealing with our problems? We all have them and they are normally covered with a sprinkling of rationalisation.

You know the situation:

“We’ve just lost our biggest customer to a much better proposition.”

“Will you excuse me, I just have to go to the bathroom?”

“Sorry about that, now where were we? Oh yes, you were saying that our biggest customer has gone elsewhere. It’s just one of those things and they were bad payers anyway. When you think how we’ve put ourselves out for them over the years. We’re better off without them ….”

You get the picture, we don’t really want to deal with the possibility that it might actually be our own fault. Maybe we lost them because we took them for granted?

My father was a great one for this approach. He would never actually admit to anything that would bring him close to facing up to reality. He would cycle ten miles to work five days per week - and that was the closest he ever got to recycling in those days. He only ever got one puncture and that was on a particularly rainy day when he was on his way home and this of course meant that he had to push his bike for miles in order to reach home, soaked to the skin and two and a half hours late. I was probably about eight years old at the time but I still remember how he spent the rest of the evening remarking on what a nice walk he’d had and how maybe he should do it again. It was only a puncture after all and he didn’t want to blow it up out of all proportion.

I think in those far-off days people were much more able to deal with life’s problems.

And my mother’s reaction by the way?  “Fancy another cup of tea Frank?”  A cup of tea was the answer to all of our difficulties in those days. Apparently it got us through both World Wars.

There are two ways of looking at the potential therapeutic qualities of rationalisation. In the first place it makes us and others feel better and perhaps on occasions that is no bad thing, but in the second place it can be perceived that we are deceiving ourselves and that can lead to future problems.

‘Cloud Cuckoo Land’ comes to mind. We are often far better off when we face up to actualities, so when we rationalise things are we simply indulging in ‘rational lies’? (Gita Daily)

It would be remiss of me not to mention politics in this context. Politics, as somebody once said, is the art of the possible - even though at times the act of carrying out the job itself might seem impossible. Offering seemingly rational answers to basically irrational problems is what it’s all about

Are you a rationaliser? I must confess that I am. I’m always looking for a way of reducing problems to the lowest level of acceptance.

Let me give you an example. My car is older than it should be; it ought to have been replaced years ago. But there’s nothing wrong with it really. Well actually the engine makes a bit of a noise and I’m told that it will soon need four new tyres – have you seen the price of tyres these days? When you’re retired, and no longer the possessor of a company car, these things inevitably become much more of a problem. Anyway I like my car, old as it is, and I tell my friends that I can’t be bothered to buy a new one when my existing vehicle does a perfectly good job – what’s the point? I tell them I love driving it - even though maybe my trusty vehicle needs to be re-tyred (get it?).

The truth of the matter is that I hate breaking into my savings, I hate them going below a certain level. Maybe I’m becoming a miser, but I convince myself that I just like having a hedge against inflation. I’m told that I’ve got to get a new car and that it’s a false economy not to buy a more up-to-date electrical replacement. But the worst thing that can happen is that I have to walk everywhere and indulge in healthy exercise. Now I’m not sure if that’s a euphemism or a rationalisation – or maybe both - but what I am sure of is that it will surely turn out all right in the end.  

Photo: Tony Allen.

I recently had a touch of sciatica, at least that’s what I called it when the kids were asking why I was grunting and groaning so much. ‘Bloody painful’ was what I called it when nobody was listening.

Have you noticed how we all have a tendency to indulge in euphemisms when it comes to dealing with our problems? We all have them and they are normally covered with a sprinkling of rationalisation.

You know the situation:

“We’ve just lost our biggest customer to a much better proposition.”

“Will you excuse me, I just have to go to the bathroom?”

“Sorry about that, now where were we? Oh yes, you were saying that our biggest customer has gone elsewhere. It’s just one of those things and they were bad payers anyway. When you think how we’ve put ourselves out for them over the years. We’re better off without them ….”

You get the picture, we don’t really want to deal with the possibility that it might actually be our own fault. Maybe we lost them because we took them for granted?

My father was a great one for this approach. He would never actually admit to anything that would bring him close to facing up to reality. He would cycle ten miles to work five days per week - and that was the closest he ever got to recycling in those days. He only ever got one puncture and that was on a particularly rainy day when he was on his way home and this of course meant that he had to push his bike for miles in order to reach home, soaked to the skin and two and a half hours late. I was probably about eight years old at the time but I still remember how he spent the rest of the evening remarking on what a nice walk he’d had and how maybe he should do it again. It was only a puncture after all and he didn’t want to blow it up out of all proportion.

I think in those far-off days people were much more able to deal with life’s problems.

And my mother’s reaction by the way?  “Fancy another cup of tea Frank?”  A cup of tea was the answer to all of our difficulties in those days. Apparently it got us through both World Wars.

There are two ways of looking at the potential therapeutic qualities of rationalisation. In the first place it makes us and others feel better and perhaps on occasions that is no bad thing, but in the second place it can be perceived that we are deceiving ourselves and that can lead to future problems.

‘Cloud Cuckoo Land’ comes to mind. We are often far better off when we face up to actualities, so when we rationalise things are we simply indulging in ‘rational lies’? (Gita Daily)

It would be remiss of me not to mention politics in this context. Politics, as somebody once said, is the art of the possible - even though at times the act of carrying out the job itself might seem impossible. Offering seemingly rational answers to basically irrational problems is what it’s all about

Are you a rationaliser? I must confess that I am. I’m always looking for a way of reducing problems to the lowest level of acceptance.

Let me give you an example. My car is older than it should be; it ought to have been replaced years ago. But there’s nothing wrong with it really. Well actually the engine makes a bit of a noise and I’m told that it will soon need four new tyres – have you seen the price of tyres these days? When you’re retired, and no longer the possessor of a company car, these things inevitably become much more of a problem. Anyway I like my car, old as it is, and I tell my friends that I can’t be bothered to buy a new one when my existing vehicle does a perfectly good job – what’s the point? I tell them I love driving it - even though maybe my trusty vehicle needs to be re-tyred (get it?).

The truth of the matter is that I hate breaking into my savings, I hate them going below a certain level. Maybe I’m becoming a miser, but I convince myself that I just like having a hedge against inflation. I’m told that I’ve got to get a new car and that it’s a false economy not to buy a more up-to-date electrical replacement. But the worst thing that can happen is that I have to walk everywhere and indulge in healthy exercise. Now I’m not sure if that’s a euphemism or a rationalisation – or maybe both - but what I am sure of is that it will surely turn out all right in the end.  

Photo: Tony Allen.