In Hindu scriptures the Sanskrit word ahamkara translates roughly into ‘the sound of I’. In the Western world these days, thanks to the behaviours and attitudes bundled up under the heading of ‘assertiveness’, we are encouraged to broadcast the personal voice with increasing clarity and persistence. Assertive behaviour is now the official gold standard of communication. It promises to teach us how to stand up for ourselves and make sure our feelings, needs and rights are acknowledged by others. It will protect us against exploitation, bullying and generally being put upon. Moreover, advocates of assertiveness (and there are many) insist that it does all this without meeting ‘fire with fire’. On the contrary, we are assured that true assertiveness diffuses conflict and promotes harmony. Based on principles of mutuality and respect, assertiveness authors claim the hallmarks of true assertiveness are self-control and reasonableness. One of the key messages rammed home repeatedly in assertiveness training is that it has absolutely nothing to do with aggression, even though for some strange reason people continue to confuse the two.

On paper all of this looks good, so good in fact that we seldom pause to examine whether assertiveness is the virtue we usually assume it to be, either in theory or in practice. In the meantime we continue to prescribe ‘assertiveness training’ as an appropriate response to a variety of issues and situations. Whether you are a child being bullied at school, a grown up trying to cope with a domineering mother-in-law or an insensitive boss, or maybe just trying to stop feeling self-conscious and awkward at parties, assertiveness training is clearly the way forward.

The trouble is that the theory and the practice of assertiveness often seem at odds with each other. The ideology of assertiveness stresses the importance of maintaining a respectful attitude towards your conversational partner but, if you look at some of the most commonly practised assertiveness techniques, it is hard to imagine them coming from a very respectful place.

If you have ever been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of the ‘broken record’ technique you will know exactly what I mean. Commended by Manuel Smith in his famous book When I Say No I Feel Guilty, the broken record boils down to a simple reiteration of your position, usually parroting the same phrase over and over again, irrespective of the response of your opponent – sorry – partner. Smith claims that this technique is appropriate ‘when your partner won’t take no for an answer’ but of course it is only called upon when you aren’t prepared to take no for an answer either! Repeating the same position communicates a clear message: ‘I will not be moved and nothing you can say will change my mind. Until you concede or acknowledge my position I will not engage with anything you are saying and I will continue to frustrate you in your attempts to talk to me. My position is actually non-negotiable, and I fully intend to block and negate you by repeating it again and again until you either give up or give way.’ Are we seriously supposed to believe there is nothing aggressive about this?

This gentleman clearly hasn’t been taking assertiveness classes. Or has he?

To get what I want from you I might also try ‘fogging’. This is where I strategically try and align myself with some part of what you are saying in order to lever my own agenda more effectively. I agree with you in part or in principle (or at least appear to) in order to take the wind out of your sails and lull you into the sense that we are actually in agreement. In the case of ‘negative assertion’ I appear to take on board your criticism but ensure that in the very same breath I make sure I press forward with my own demands.

I’m sorry, but this is Machiavellian to the core. It’s chess, not conversation, and we should be under no illusions that the goal is not to wrestle the other person into submission. How can we truly have a genuinely respectful interaction with someone at the very moment we are attempting to manipulate them? If we use such ploys we are fencing with the other person, not authentically engaging with them. Passive aggression is aggression nonetheless, and that’s exactly what a lot of ‘assertiveness’ amounts to. If you don’t believe me, just see what it feels like to exit a conversation with someone who has been ‘appropriately assertive’ with you. Do you feel empowered or validated? Probably not. But they certainly will.

Assertiveness is a game in which you subtly disenfranchise your opponent by enlisting implicit rules of engagement by which you are both bound. Put simply, like a greased-up wrestler, you prevent the other person from getting any purchase on you. By remaining calm and self-possessed you make their angry overtures appear unwarranted. By stating clearly only your own perspective and desires (‘I feel unhappy when ...’, ‘I would like you to ...’), you cunningly inoculate yourself against contradiction since the other person knows full well they cannot claim to have better access to your inner world than you do. I’m not saying assertiveness techniques don’t work, or even that there isn’t a valid place for them, but let’s not pretend that establishing mutual respect is the primary agenda. Respect requires that you treat the other person at least as an equal, if not a superior. Most books on assertiveness are ultimately manuals on how to gain the upper hand.

Assertiveness is born of individualism, which of course is why it is so in vogue in the West. In Japan and other more collectivist cultures that emphasise ‘we’ and ‘us’ over ‘I’ and ‘me’, submissive, deferential attitudes are more likely to be esteemed as virtuous. In fact when it comes to the various honorific forms of Japanese, the whole structure of the language seems designed to subvert the kind of self-assertion we value in the West. Both sonkeigo (respectful language) and kenjogo (humble language) are used to signal the inferiority and deference of the speaker. One commentator – clearly not a fan of the oriental way – parodies the ethos of sonkeigo as follows: ‘OMG, you are the greatest person ever, bestow upon me the privilege of bearing your children! Your steps cause me to bow in reverence!’ while the essence of kenjogo is summarised as: ‘OMG, I am the most incapable person ever, nothing I do matters at all. I am the most insignificant piece of garbage ever.’

While blog-writer Aaron (a non-Japanese intern working for a company that builds Japanese toilets) may have been exaggerating for effect, the point still stands. The Japanese do not generally regard it as a good thing to attempt to level the playing field as assertiveness encourages, and appear unthreatened by deferential conduct that would make many Westerners wince. Submission to the authority of others, raising others up above the self – these are strategies for ensuring group harmony which is highly prized in the East. It should be noted that ethology suggests that in many animal packs, displays of submission are just as crucial as dominance displays in ensuring the smooth functioning of the group and its ability to provide for its constituent members. Protocols of dominance and submission often forestall the need for full-on bloody fights that the pack can ill afford.

Even here in the West it turns out that you can have too much of a supposedly good thing. A study by Daniel Ames and Francis Flynn at Columbia University discovered that, when it comes to people’s appraisal of leadership qualities, too much assertiveness was generally regarded by employees to be just as problematic as too little. It seemed a ‘Goldilocks algorithm’ was at work that left leaders at the higher end of the assertiveness spectrum just as compromised as if they were perceived as lacking in assertiveness. The authors point out that ‘Although a high level of assertiveness may entail instrumental benefits, it often carries social costs. Assertive people tend to be seen as less likeable and less friendly than unassertive people, even when assertive behaviour is considered effective, justified, and appropriate ... even kinder and gentler versions of assertiveness are seen as leading to worse impressions than are low levels of assertiveness.’ How very surprising this is, considering that assertive communication supposedly places such emphasis on respectful interaction, mutual validation of everyone’s point of view and represents a mature and moderate approach to resolving conflict ... But on the other hand, if the lines between assertiveness and aggression are more blurred than everyone wishes to believe, then perhaps we shouldn’t be that surprised after all.

Intriguingly, and slightly at odds with the Ames and Flynn study, an analysis of what makes good companies become great ones identified ‘level five leadership’ as one of the crucial determinants. Publishing his findings in the Harvard Business Review, Jim Collins concluded that outstandingly successful companies often seemed to be led by individuals with two distinct qualities: personal humility and professional will power. These leaders were markedly unassuming in a way that contradicts the stereotype of what an assertive person should look like. Describing them as paradoxically ‘timid and ferocious’ and ‘modest and wilful’, Collins goes on to give examples of leaders who often proved strikingly self-effacing at interview, including one level five leader who confided (or even asserted): ‘There are a lot of people in this company who could do this job better than I do.’ While coming across as genuinely humble and unassuming individuals, where these men and women did not hold back was in relentlessly and single-mindedly pushing through the reforms, policies and redundancies they believed were in the interest of their companies – even when these involved controversial or unpopular choices. Here some kind of assertiveness was clearly at work, but not assertiveness geared to the service of the ego or the advancement of the individual in the way we equate with assertiveness. Instead it was applied with steely determination to the interests of the wider collective, while their own egos took a back seat.

Assertiveness in the form with which we are familiar may be warranted on occasion, but let’s not kid ourselves that it’s going to help us win any popularity contests or that when harnessed to advancing our personal agendas (even legitimate ones) our assertive behaviour isn’t going to be interpreted by others as an act of war. I know of one highly assertive man who informed a superior that he experienced his boss’s body language as anxiety-provoking. This ticked all the assertiveness boxes: the man in question was only saying what he felt and how he interpreted the other person’s actions; he wasn’t directly blaming the boss; he took responsibility for his own reactions to her. However, suffice it to say that a few days later he found that he had been marginalised within the organisation and his performance was suddenly being negatively appraised. There may be no connection at all, but you have to wonder ...

It seems to me that truly effective communication is a dance in which we have to be prepared to move fluidly between different and complementary roles, even if that means sometimes holding the high status position and sometimes agreeing to be what is known in sadomasochistic circles as ‘the bottom’. Ames and Flynn compare the use of assertiveness with seasoning a meal: too little and it tastes bland, but too much and the dish is ruined. Insisting that we can maintain respectful equality at all times is a pleasant fantasy, but it certainly isn’t going to be realised by using techniques which often amount to no more than a form of manipulation to get our needs met. In the Hindu faith ‘the sound of I’ must be silenced before you can get in touch with deeper levels of reality. Perhaps we should bear this in mind before we get too sold on techniques that ultimately are just designed to pump up the volume.