In the wake of the trifecta of earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear crisis, Japanese Prime Minister Naoto Kan and his colleagues have donned the blue uniforms of first responders, suggesting they are working tirelessly. But despite his efforts to handle the biggest crisis in Japan since Hiroshima, Kan has not won the hearts of his countrymen, whose apprehension and distrust increases each morning when they turn on the news to learn of increasing radioactivity, the plummeting stock market, and the soaring death toll. As it turns out, blue uniforms are not enough.
History has taught us that disasters and mass emergencies can transform a mediocre politician into an inspiring leader. The 1944 San Juan earthquake in Argentina that killed more than 10,000 people, earned Juan Perón instant esteem, as well as a glamorous wife, Evita. Ten years ago, the rubble at Ground Zero in New York City transformed George W. Bush from an alleged illegitimate president to a folk hero shepherding the nation through crisis. For Kan, the challenges of Sendai have opportunities and pitfalls. But so far, Kan’s focus on the rubble has not brought the Japanese together in common purpose.
Where did Kan go wrong? To be sure, there is a Japanese cultural style, But nowadays politicians must be aware of new global expectations, which call for a man of compassion and empathy, a man of the people. Consider Wen Jiabao. Two hours after China’s 2008 Sichuan earthquake, he jumped on a plane bound for the area struck by disaster. Soon he was seen walking around in the devastated community, telling children who were buried in a half-collapsed building that “Grandpa Wen is here with you.” The politics of emotion in action. Hundreds of millions of Chinese watched Wen shedding tears, angrily slamming his cellphone at slacking officials, and hugging wailing orphans. Just as Bill Clinton, Wen realized that a politician must feel your pain. As a result, the Chinese felt sheltered instead of afraid. A few cynics have called Wen “the best actor in China,” but many more see him as the father of the nation. Wen’s recent remarks about democracy even kindled the flame of hope in some political dissidents’ hearts. Is he acting? Maybe. But the performance works!
For all his skills, Kan learned little from China’s Premier, the now beloved “Grandpa Wen.” Kan urged people to remain calm, meanwhile muting his own reactions. This may work in times of trouble when the world is under control. Perhaps this was the Japanese style in a world before global media, but today it seems apathetic and passive. In the new Asia, Kan must express emotions on the public stage, by daring to show compassion and by “being there.” After a disaster of the current magnitude, a nation searches for a leader who can rally the people with inspiring words, with displaying sincere compassion, and reassuring the frightened with his presence. Disaster politics do not consist of bureaucratic responses but of performances facilitated by symbols and gestures. People desire a leader who is able to share and articulate their emotions. We want to find him or her in the wreckages and in the crowded shelters. When George Bush decided not to touch down in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina something was forever lost. In contrast, Wen Jiabao’s swift action was taken as a sign of the Chinese government’s concern, even while most rescuers had not yet arrived at the scene.
Political success belongs to the swift and to the empathetic. Before Wen Jiabao, there was also Rudy Giuliani, “America’s Mayor,” who rushed to the World Trade Center on 9/11. Sadly, Kan better resembles George Bush after Katrina than Guiliani after the terrorist attacks. Hovering above the decimation is no replacement for having mud on your shoes and radiation in your lungs. Kan did what politicians used to do. He managed. But he failed at what politicians must do now. He didn’t perform. When he finally decided to go to the area, blue uniform and all, it was too late. As the emotional atmosphere had changed, the rubble on Kan’s shoes did not produce a positive effect.
The one Japanese politician who has become widely admired is not the prime minister, but Yukio Edano, the spokesman of the Japanese government. His success rests on his red eyes: he has been so omnipresent that the Japanese people believe he hasn’t slept since the quake. Japanese Twitter users, moved by his devotion, now routinely tweet, “Edano, sleep!” This echoes the comments of Chinese online users about Premier Wen Jiabao, also believed to have worked around the clock after the Sichuan quake: “Please, Grandpa, get some sleep!”
When citizens tell a politician that he needs rest, he surely is doing something right.
I think it’s a shame that politicians have to manage media so carefully in order to appear engaged, empathetic and competent. Their photo-ops can mean little in terms of the effectiveness of actual policy, for example Bush’s bullhorn moment. I was not aware of remarks by Wen Jiabao about democracy in China. All I’ve read about is repression and detention of pro-democracy activists there, but it’s encouraging to read about this here. In regards to the 2008 Sichuan earthquake, I found it extremely sad that the construction of the schools throughout the region was so poor that they completely crumbled. At least in Japan, the building codes withstood the initial earthquake pretty well. The great death toll came mainly as a result of the tsunami. Also, from what I’ve read and seen in reports, the call for accountability coming from the parents of the children killed in the poorly constructed schools in China has been squelched by their political leaders.
There is a dilemma for authoritarian leaders, especially in China.
Yu Jie, a dissident writer, wrote a book titled China’s Best Actor: Wen Jiabao (Zhongguo Yingdi Wen Jiabao), Hong Kong: New Century Press. As the provocative title suggests, Yu’s argument crystallizes the popular political caricature that depicts Wen as the “best actor.” Sincerity of his performance is seriously challenged in light of the regime’s suppression on dissidents, lack of response about the school collapse issue, and Wen’s son’s alleged exploiting his identity to reap economic benefits. This strong criticism indicates a greater dilemma in addition to the scene issue discussed here. When popular perceptions do not make a distinction between the leader and the regime, the leader’s performance hinges on the regime’s performance. If there is a discrepancy, sincerity of the leader’s will be questioned. When his image is separated from the regime, as I have maintained, his performance enhances his personal image but does help enhance legitimacy. Other interesting phenomena, such as Wen’s open call for democratic reform and resort to public opinions to consolidate his status, could also be topics for future research on political performance.