As Covid-19 continues to ricochet around the world, it’s proving a litmus test for effective leadership, both in a corporate context and politically.
Opinions will vary, but few will deny the unparalleled competence displayed by New Zealand’s Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern as she resolutely ordered her country into a swift, preemptive lockdown, well before cases even had a chance to surge. By early June, New Zealand had effectively eliminated the threat of Covid-19 on its soil.
Long after this pandemic has passed, Ardern will be praised for her compassion and empathy. “Please be strong, be kind and united against Covid-19,” was her decidedly human refrain - contrasting sharply with a more ill-tempered, unsettling, even accusatory, response adopted by many of her peers.
Ardern is also known for her authenticity, something that’s hard to define or measure but very easy to recognize when it matters. Clad in an oversized worn sweatshirt, and in the voice of someone adamant not to wake their child sleeping in the next room, she’s comforted nervous New Zealanders from her couch, via Facebook and unscripted.
She’s somber and sensitive when need be, but also funny and brave: as undeterred by the Easter bunny and tooth fairy as she is by a spontaneous earthquake during a live interview.
Boris Johnson no doubt knows all this.
As a U.K. prime minister battling not one, but several crises which in isolation would probably - if mismanaged - be weighty enough to topple any politician’s career, he’s resorting to every trick in the book.
This week, perhaps in an attempt to appeal to the masses and prove his own authenticity, Johnson recorded a two-minute video subsequently posted to Twitter, reeling off as many of his Government's achievements as possible in quickfire succession to mark his anniversary as PM.
Late last year, Ardern - apparently urged by her staff - did almost exactly the same thing in a clip that went viral internationally, garnering hundreds of thousands of views and effusive praise across the board.
Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery and copying someone in this way is certainly not a crime, but it’s an act that’s curtailed professional potential in countless workplaces. Ask almost any female.
Corporate jargon aficionados will recognize it as a clear case of “bropriation”: appropriating something done by a woman, with not even so much as a hat-tip.
In Johnson’s case, it’s just a pathetic stunt that’s actually quite tragic when you consider the wider facts.
At well over 45,000, the U.K. had one of the highest coronavirus death tolls in the world, as of the time of writing. New Zealand had 22. Johnson has worked near wonders for the success of his Conservative Party, but he’s also at the helm of a country that could well be heading for its worst recession in 300 years. Hundreds of thousands have lost work. About 9 million jobs have been furloughed. The longer term social damage caused by this crisis will be impossible to quantify but undoubtedly traumatic.
Last month, the U.K.’s Royal College of Psychiatrists warned of a “tsunami of mental illness” and said that both adults and children were experiencing psychotic episodes, mania and depression because of Covid-19.
Now’s not a time for celebrating. It may be a time for reflection, but a copycat social media parade of self-praise and backslapping is not unlike laughing at a funeral. It’s a textbook example of tone-deaf, ego-driven leadership.
Call it bropriation. Call it arrogance. Either way, the U.K. deserves better than this.
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