Everybody Hurts
Written by Madeleine CorcoranKen cries too; Men cry too – and we’ve got the pictures to prove it. Images of Putin with tears springing from his peepers at his recent re-election as president got me thinking about what it means when men, especially men in power, turn on the waterworks. Then when the image below of London mayoral candidate, Ken Livingstone, came along I thought it was time to say something about these weepy men. Jonathan Jones’ of The Guardian undertook an interesting analysis of the Ken image and you can read it here: http://bit.ly/HHI0Ap . What I want to ask is, what do these tearful men tell us about the political persona and the ways in which the photograph constructs these moments of overflow?
Crying has of course long been associated with femininity, girlishness and weakness. The fear of woman as an over-emotional and irrational being can be witnessed in 19th century medical handbooks which describe the malady of ‘Hysteria’ which affects only women and involves outbursts of uncontrolled emotion. The term hysteria itself is linked to the Greek for womb (hystera) – hence the term hysterectomy for the removal of the uterus – so weeping, wailing and fainting were seen as a disease caused by the womb; the very essence of woman was over-emotional illness. It’s an attitude still evident when a woman’s anger or upset is dismissed as pre-menstrual syndrome.
Consequently, the role of leader, which is still defined predominantly through traits we would associate with the masculine, seems the least likely to be fulfilled through crying. The qualities we often admire in a leader are somewhat ‘macho’: decisiveness, rationality and strength. This is not to say that only men possess the desired characteristics – given the chance, either gender is well able to inhabit the role. It’s rather to say that few people have voted or respected a leader for the quality of weakness, whether male or female, and crying in public is certainly judged as an exposure of weakness. We might want to question the validity of such an assumption, but I would argue that nevertheless it is fundamental.
As Johnathan Jones argues, Ken’s moment of weakness is not a flattering one. Tragedy, and by implication grief, has a nobility to it, but Ken’s hunched figure, balding scalp and scrunched up hands are more gargoyle than Hamlet. Ed Milliband looks on nervously as his colleague transforms into a kind of crumpled baby. This withered infant appearance figures the state to which we fear we will return as mind and body decay towards the end of the ageing process. I think this is indeed part of the problem with Ken’s display – it makes overtures to senility far more than it does to sincerity. Those reptilian creases in the forehead bring to mind the phrase ‘crocodile tears’ but the question of authenticity is a disturbing one. Are these contrived tears for the cameras or an uncontrollable outpour over his own manifesto video? Which case is worse? I certainly want those in power to be honest and sincere, in fact I would like them to be more emotional and indeed more connected to the suffering of others, but crying at your own manifesto video hints at delusional.
Another, undoubtedly more delusional leader, is Putin, and his tears were testament to that trait more than any other. Crying at his foregone conclusion of a re-election, Putin revealed his narcissism and his will to believe what the yes men tell him. In this moment, it seems as if Putin sees himself as the heroic son being welcomed, once again, into the open arms of Mother Russia – and he runs to her with tears in his eyes. Putin’s tears then are infinitely more disturbing than Ken’s, but on the surface, I think they create a far better impression – even though they were of course mocked throughout Russia and the World. Nevertheless, these tears do come across as a genuine overflow of passion; the exception to the rule of a supreme macho man. Either these tears were expertly choreographed or Putin really does believe his own hype, because they are perfectly decorous and noble. Putin doesn’t crumple his face, he doesn’t hide in shame like Ken, he stands proud and lets his icy blue eyes do the talking. He plays, or rather, believes he is, the Romantic hero – a man of strength and emotion. I’m not saying we should believe in this performance, although I have the suspicion that Putin himself does, but I am saying that it is well executed. Those cold eyes, those hot tears; it’s a perfect blend of passion and power. It’s appealing and I bet it seduces many – although perhaps not exactly 63% of Russian voters.
From this comparison I think we can draw two things – one about the nature of leadership and one about the politics of the photograph.
The political persona must walk a tightrope of seeming both decisiveness and powerful whilst also displaying a softer, human side. This seems ever more true as character politics continue to become of greater importance in the West. Jonathan Jones mentions Hilary Clinton’s affecting and effective moment of tears during her campaign trial in 2008, which in its aesthetic is not too distant from Putin’s; Jones argues that Hilary Clinton “visibly fought back the tears”, and that therefore when they prickled in her eyes, she came across as both composed and meaningfully emotional. Thus her tears seem to come from a place of strength whilst at the same time they reveal her ‘human’ and also, feminine, side. It strikes me that between these examples, the tightrope walked is equally as difficult for male as well as female leaders. Both carry the burden of simultaneously fulfilling and overriding elements associated with their gender. The masculine is largely prioritised whilst the feminine plays a secondary but still significant, humanising role. Either sex can inhabit this space, but both must work hard to cultivate the right balance. (The fact that the feminine is still considered secondary says much about current social and cultural hierarchies, but that is for another discussion.) Unfortunately Ken’s ‘human side’ comes across as reptilian, whilst Putin’s reptilian side is well masked by his hot tears.
However, this analysis inevitably lies within the restrictions of image making – and within this I may offer some defence for Ken. The camera does not neutrally record and the newspaper does not neutrally display. The image of Ken crumpling is a split-second moment and is selected to the rules of politic and scandal. It is an unflattering moment and could well have been chosen to be just so. It is the unflattering that is most comic and intriguing and also which may best represent vested interests. There could be other images that didn’t make the edit in which Ken cries with poise and dignity. It’s always good to be careful about reading a whole identity or position into a split-second capture – which is all that a press photograph is. There are vested interests in what we see in both the moment the shutter comes down and upon the front page.
Putin demonstrates the flip side of this dynamic. His leadership is based on a mastery of poise, a total awareness and control of the revealing nature of the photo and video. His moment of vulnerability is careful and consistent – all of the images depict the same still face, the same hopeful gaze across the crowd. Never does he crumple his posture or crease his brow. Putin doesn’t give away one moment of indignity or ugliness.
Ken starts to seem more human after all.