NO ONE likes to be called a bully. Most, I suspect, regard themselves as more sinned against than sinning in this respect, or have an attitude which could be expressed as: “I am forceful; you are bombastic; he/she is a bully.”

I have no idea whether there is any substance to claims Gordon Brown has bullied Downing Street staff. It did strike me one of his PR team’s defences, that this was “old news”, did rather make the point that he has been accused of such behaviour before, which you wouldn’t think was terribly helpful to the PM.

That was before the quite extraordinary intervention by a national bullying charity to say Downing Street employees had been in touch on this very issue.

This was remarkable not only because it ensured the row survived beyond its normal shelf life, but also because it raised questions about confidentiality and charities getting involved in politics in an election year – as well as the behaviour of our prime minister.

The controversy has also focused attention on the painful subject of bullying itself, raising such questions as: what is it, how serious a problem is it, and can it ever be justified?

Looking at what bullying is, if I may return briefly to the Gordon Brown row, I think Peter Mandelson was right, when he described his leader as “emotional” and “demanding”, to say these characteristics do not amount to bullying. He could equally have said being aggressive, forceful and determined do not themselves a bully make.

My personal definition of bullying is that it involves someone in a position of power using it to abuse, harass or even harm someone in a weaker position. The power the bully holds could involve physical size or strength, being in a stronger social situation or being in a position of authority over the “victim”. The first two could apply to children or adults; the latter tends to involve adults.

I also think there needs to be systematic element to it. An awful lot of us “lash out” at times, but I would contend that for someone to qualify as a bully there needs to be something habitual about what they’re doing, whether it’s aimed at one person or many.

It’s also true that many who do qualify as bullies tend to exhibit a degree of cowardice, and back off when someone stands up to them, even if that person is “weaker” than them.

But I’m not sure that’s a universal rule; some bullies make a point of seeking vengeance against those who dare to defy them.

Why do they do it? Some are undoubtedly past victims themselves, and are either dealing with the trauma in a particularly negative way or actually believe such behaviour is the norm and see no reason why it should not continue. Some just have to get their own way, or simply enjoy it.

Should we take it seriously? Most definitely; humans need to co-operate to survive and thrive, and bullies undermine that. It’s no accident traditional codes of conduct often have protecting the weak high on their agenda, something we should perhaps take a look at today.

A couple of other points arise from the recent debate. Some commentators have suggested temperamental behaviour is understandable in someone doing a high-pressure, high-stress job. As I said before, the odd outburst is understandable, but if it’s become a habit the perpetrator needs to reform or get another job.

Finally, might we need bullies in positions of power to ensure things get done? Our most celebrated PM, Churchill, undoubtedly got “action this day” by constantly berating his subordinates.

But he also managed to browbeat his service chiefs into embarking on numerous catastrophes (Norway, Greece, the Dodecanese, to name but a few) when they really should have known better. It is, arguably, another example of bullying behaviour distorting our actions with potentially disastrous results, and another reason why we shouldn’t allow it to happen.