Rafe Fletcher is the founder of CWG.
A speech from Singapore’s founding Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew often does the rounds on social media. It shows him calling out then-striking Singapore Airlines pilots at a political rally in 1980. Continue the strike, Lee says, and he is prepared to ground the airline and start all over again. Or get back to work. An example of the “iron” Lee argues anyone governing Singapore needs.
Not every Singaporean politician of Lee’s era holds him in great personal regard. But all attest to his outstanding achievements in office. Because, to Lee, the personal and public were different things. When a student asked Lee about the influence of his late wife, he replied, “I’m not here to let my hair down about family matters.”
Modern pop psychology may call that “repressed”. Human Resources would worry that Lee was not bringing his “whole self to work.” But it shows a refreshing humility. The Prime Minister bends to the job, not vice versa. Governing requires certain qualities, not personal feeling.
If Lee were still alive and in charge, his authoritarian streak would likely see him categorised as another “strongman”. Contemporary definitions of such leaders carry a pejorative flavour. Traditionally “alpha” characteristics – decisiveness, resilience, endurance – are suspicious and conflated with despotism. There is no space for a Cincinnatus who might rule obstinately, then happily step away.
That perception is not entirely unfair. Russia’s Vladimir Putin is the poster boy, presenting himself as the virile servant of Mother Russia while profiting at its expense. Donald Trump and his ally, former Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban, are democratic examples of similar concerns. That “strongmen” leaders’ interests become inextricable from those of the state.
Power becomes a source of personal gain, rather than public duty.
But like “populist”, the term “strongman” has become a catch-all term. It’s frequently used as a term of disapproval rather than describing anything actively nefarious. Like when Martin Wolf lumps Javier Milei in with populists for an agenda that is “appealing in the short term and damaging in the long term.” As if drastic spending cuts are red meat for electorates.
Populism is bad when it proposes popular but unrealistic fixes. Yet sometimes it just shows the will to do what others imbue with unnecessary complexity. So too strongmen are bad when their fleeting whims constitute national policy. But equally, they can resuscitate characteristics of stoicism and persistence that faddish emphasis on empathy labelled redundant.
I thought about this vibe shift while watching Prime Minister on a recent flight. It’s a hagiographical account of Jacinda Ardern’s time as leader of New Zealand. Her self-branded empathetic leadership was a zeitgeist of the Covid years. She described its core tenet as leading like a “human first and politician second.” And the documentary echoes that, focusing on her juggling of motherhood and leadership, while showing little in the way of political legacy.
The “be kind” ethos sounds very noble. But it also entails a certain narcissism. It presents oneself as a paragon of moral virtue, uniquely able to share the feelings of one’s people. The office serves the leader’s interpretation of those feelings, rather than the leader putting aside subjectivity to focus on objective criteria.
Moreover, it gives undue weight to the pop psychology of “self-care”. Look inwards first.
When I saw Ardern’s empathetic peer, Justin Trudeau, speak at a conference, he said getting eight hours sleep was one of his priorities as Prime Minister of Canada. While we may not want chronically sleep-deprived leaders, it’s a striking contrast with the robust rhetoric around rest from more consequential politicians.
These figures may not be as uniformly described as “strongmen” (often because they are women) but they present with traditionally alpha qualities. Look at Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, who calls five hours sleep a luxury, often making do with none at all. Or her idol Margaret Thatcher who enjoyed a comparatively indulgent four hours.
Such claims may be somewhat performative, but it recognises the self-sacrifice highest office should entail. Leaders should be tireless, not well-rested. It seems anachronistic in a Britain that has proudly abandoned its stiff upper lip in favour of endless empathy. Such an approach reaches absurd conclusions because it validates and equivalises grievances. If your focus as a leader is feeling everyone’s pain, who are you to judge whose matters more?
But the end of the emotive age is near. Ipsos polling from May shows Brits want politicians to focus on results. The top two characteristics of a good Prime Minister were understanding the problems facing Britain and having a plan. Much lesser importance was ascribed to values (30 per cent) or likeability (20 per cent). Nigel Farage ranks first (38 per cent) in the former categories while also being viewed as the least honest leader (20 per cent). Until recently, this was enough for Reform to consistently lead national polls.
In other words, Brits are willing to accept Lee’s private-public dichotomy. Personal lives are not necessarily relevant to capabilities in office. While they will not tolerate hypocrisy in those who parade their virtue, they will forgive moral failings in those who do not. Hence, allegations of Farage’s financial impropriety may not prove terminally damaging.
But personal sanctimony does not excuse public failure. Chasing likeability is people pleasing at mass level. That mantra of good intentions is encapsulated in former Conservative MP Rory Stewart’s quasi mea culpa after calling the 2024 US election for Kamala Harris. Stewart said he would rather be wrong optimistically than correct pessimistically. Ergo I’d rather think nice things than get things right.
If we call out narcissism in pantomime “strongmen” villains, we must recognise the same in “empathetic” leaders. Both mould the office to their own personalities. The leader becomes the arbiter of truth. Lee’s “iron” provides the obstinacy that separates the two. That stops leaders governing by personal diktat because it protects against emotional instinct.
Let’s not give up on strong leaders yet.