The lost art of making an introduction: Why modesty is the best policy

"I am the director of…" or "Speaking as somebody with twenty years of experience…" Rhetoric that was once the domain of cover letters has crept into our emails, casual exchanges, social threads, and… well, it's everywhere. The adage show don't tell has become a dying art in modern communication.

Part of me can understand the impulse. In a fast-paced world, authority is difficult to discern. Our credentials are our weapon against poorly formed opinions, they are the armour that shields us from the digital rubbish mountains collapsing into our inboxes.

In some situations stating your credentials is acceptable when it is relevant. If I am expecting an email from a doctor, I want to know straight away. If I am receiving a speculative request from an 'executive director' to purchase software that will 'revolutionise productivity' – less so.

However, doctors aside,  leading with your credentials can often read as self-important. In the context of general communication,  It feels like a pre-emptive strike against a disagreement, a demand for authority, a dictate to be listened to. In some ways, it is the twenty-first-century equivalent of a shrill Bakelite telephone demanding attention – it is the soft-skills version of bullying.

The problem is worst on social media. How often do you read posts, rebuttals, or comments on Linkedin that lead with self-agrandisement.

If you are such a person, I will let you into a secret: you are stealing valour from yourself.

And as my grandfather used to say: "opinions are like bum holes –  everybody has one." Authority signalling should be used sparingly, like a well-placed swear word. Think of it like the F-bomb in Life of Brian.

Whatever happened to the topos of modesty?

At the other end of the spectrum sits the topos of modesty. You may recall Chaucer’s Knight’s Tale from school, where the Knight plays down his more-than-adequate oratorical skill. He gains authority through restraint: his language conveys deliberation rather than bullish self importance. His credibility comes not from asserting his prowess but from minimising it – he signals integrity through modesty.

Such was the traditional way. However, confidence, wrongly equated with competence, has become increasingly acceptable, even expected. We are a civilisation of Grand Pooh-bahs.

The foil to the Knight in Canterbury Tales was the Pardoner, his background was built on subterfuge and deception. His irony is that he tells a moral tale and relies on the privilege of his station to assert credibility.

The story concludes with a group of young men who find a great treasure, which none get to enjoy because they kill one another – the moral is simple: greed is the root of all evil.

In the race to be listened to, we kill the voices that really matter – to our own detriment.

And that is really the core issue I have with modern modes of self-presentation. It is the forceful greed for time, business, money, or attention at the expense of something that might have real substance.

The tragedy is, you might have had something important to say. And you didn't say it.

It is also a wonderful thing about modesty: one can also apply it by saying nothing.

In the same way a meeting can be an email, online exchanges can remain a passing thought. If you absolutely must write to somebody, make it genuine, well intentioned, and consider the benefits of modest communication.