The allure of the power of personality
Presbyterians of every type curl their lips at the power of political iconography. Not for them the inexplicable star power of a Reagan, Trump or Trudeau. Their collective moue at the somewhat staggering triumph of Justin Trudeau making the cover of Rolling Stone, is merely the latest proof. Tories’ jealous moans reflect merely their failure to find a leader with star power in 30 years.
Amateur political pundits may not understand the emotional and motivating power of the shot of Jack Layton’s upthrust cane as he battled to victory in his final months, defeating his opponents but not his cancer. Or Hitler’s ramrod salute to adoring thousands at Nuremburg. Or Donald Trump’s bizarre flashing finger pointing, anointing a follower briefly with the leader’s benediction. Seasoned politicians understand it deeply and resent only their opponents’ greater hold on it.
Lisa Raitt, a wiser political head than the whiner she was asked to play by her party leader, in attacking Justin Trudeau’s elevation to one of the Stations of the Cross of popular culture, knows that powerful political iconography works. She struggled, but survived, under the dour undertaker brand identity of her former leader. Andrew Scheer may be a good candidate for the grinning, somewhat gormless, boy-next-door sidekick role in Canada’s next political cycle. Competing for the sexy starring lead? Awkward.
Daniel Kahneman, the genius of our era in revealing the difference between how we claim we make choices about breakfast cereal or political leaders and what really drives us, offers many amusing — and cringe inducing — proofs of our self-delusion. The only psychologist to ever win the Nobel Prize in economics says that our most primitive brain function is hard wired for survival, not surprisingly. We look for proofs of successful competition and seek their protection. Star power is one such proof.
At the level of intellectual analysis, we should sneer at Justin Trudeau’s serene gaze from the cover of Rolling Stone. But in the primal crouch of the amygdala, we secretly smile. To friends, we sneer at his selfie collection obsession, but our more primitive self recognizes the power of a personality than can attract such compulsion from others.
It is an important lesson for political actors of every persuasion: don’t denigrate the power of image and celebrity, don’t disparage those who acknowledge its appeal and never sneer at the fans of the powerful appeal of popular political figures who are clearly less than they appear to be.
Recognize and respect the power of a Bibi Netanyahu, a Stalin, Trump or Hitler to mobilize our darkest urges for a political cause. Understand, as Tommy Douglas, Jack Layton and Pierre Trudeau did — and as Justin Trudeau does — how to use its power on the side of light.
The crisis of contemporary democracy across the Western world has many intermingled histories. Failure to deliver on promises to its peoples is high among them. But another important failure is the widening disconnect between its leaders understanding of their citizens’ angst and their immersion in popular culture.
Was Emmanuelle Macron elected because he outlined his program, as a celebrated “enarchiste” — the French equivalent of a Harvard MBA — to reform the corrupt and sclerotic French state? Don’t be silly.
Were Donald Trump voters unaware of his total lack of preparation or discipline as a candidate for the most powerful position on the planet? Please?!
Don’t be so dismissive of the decision making of 46 per cent of the American people. No, they accepted that risk in favour of someone promising to punish privileged elites, who unabashedly offered himself as an icon of their shamelessly vulgar selves. (Presbyterians and Conservative partisans still with me, close your eye here, please.) Donald Trump was our lovable, fart joke, brother-in-law, as it were. He revolts us but we are secretly endeared by him.
Lisa Raitt and prim Victorians on both sides of the political aisle need to get woke, as young activists say. Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show were. They knew that the cover of the Rolling Stone was not to be sneezed at — then or now. As they cheerfully sang, “Wanna see my picture on the cover, Wanna buy five copies for my mother, Wanna see my smiling face on the cover of the Rolling Stone . . . Rolling Stone.”
And soon, they did.