Leader of the gang

Parliamentary politics requires a level of guile and agility rarely demanded elsewhere. Political leaders know their influence is provisional. High office can be withdrawn without explanation. Such regular violence against leaders suggests that when the times change, the leader must adapt quickly or leave. In this elemental world only continued success buys more time.

Political parties have interesting similarities to street gangs, those groups of disenfranchised youths who band together for mutual support and profit.

One of the great works of street gang scholarship is The Gang, written by a young sociologist, Frederic Milton Thrasher, and published in 1927 by the University of Chicago Press.

Thrasher discovered that gang members struggled to articulate reasons for their choice of leader – they were 'quite naïve about the whole matter; they do not stop to puzzle out why they follow one certain boy rather than another'. They understood, but struggled to articulate, a shared intuition about why a particular boy had the right skills – for the moment – to be leader.

Thrasher found some continuity across gangs. The leader 'goes where others fear to go. He is brave in the face of danger. He goes first – ahead of the gang – and the rest feel secure in his presence. Along with this quality usually goes the ability to think clearly in the excitement of a crisis.'

Yet it was rarely clear in advance who in the gang possessed this combination of skills. The same gang might choose muscles as leader for a time, but brains as his successor. And gangs select leaders, not the other way around. The leader 'grows out of the gang', providing the qualities it requires at a particular time.

Thrasher discovered that leadership attributes are not transferable. 'The type of boy who can lead one gang may be a failure or have a distinctly subordinate role in another.'

Where Frederick Thrasher led, others followed. From the late 1930s the junior Harvard academic William Foote Whyte lived in the slums of North End in Boston, studying street gangs among the largely poor Italian immigrant community. His Street Corner Society, published in 1943, confirmed the essence of Thrasher's observations about gang leadership.

Whyte also noted that the leader holds office only with support of gang members. Indeed, the leader must barter constantly to retain his pre-eminence. It costs to be leader. The head of a street gang 'always gave out more money and favors than he received'. Whyte confirmed that gang leaders cannot rule simply by domination of the strongest. There is a more subtle relationship between leaders and led. Loyalty is always provisional. Groups held together by one charismatic individual are susceptible to the charms of another.

Often the leader must work through lieutenants, and so become vulnerable to conflict. Whyte observed that gang leadership changes 'not through an uprising of the bottom men but by a shift in relations between men at the top of the structure'. When, as often happens, a gang breaks into two, the explanation is to be found in conflict between the leader and a former lieutenant.

Though an analogy is only ever approximate, the gang literature can be useful when thinking about political leadership. In political parties, as in gangs, much depends on the consent of the governed. Leaders must be right for the times, and embody the values of the party. To be successful they must win the support of a small, individually ambitious but collectively nervous and risk-averse group known as the parliamentary party. This is not the same as the endless personality rivalries recorded by political journalists, but something more intangible – an understanding among those in the party room. It is a feeling impossible to gauge from outside, and perhaps hard to describe for many within: just a feeling about what sort of leader the times require.

Like street gangs, political parties rest on continual barter between leader and led, with parliamentary opinion influenced by conversation in the party room, and regular reminders of broader community sentiment through opinion polls. While the leader may publicly project power and strength, off-camera successful leaders play close attention to the needs and wishes of members of the group.

A leader beholden to the parliamentary party must see colleagues as the first, and essential, audience. All understand the party room will be unsentimental with leaders who are struggling in the court of public opinion. Malcolm Turnbull and Kevin Rudd join a procession that includes Billy Hughes, Robert Menzies, John Gorton, Bill Hayden, John Howard, Andrew Peacock, John Hewson, Alexander Downer, Bob Hawke, Simon Crean and Kim Beazley. All were deposed as leader in their party room at some point in their career.

It would be easy for a leader to lose control, to be overwhelmed by the interests and jealousies that comprise a political party. After all, the gang has no shortage of potential challengers, some with strong claims. The party contains a parliamentary core that will read decisions through the narrow prism of office, and a wider constituency ready to be disappointed. Those in the states and territories, when expeditious, will attack their own in distant Canberra for local advantage. All are ready to demand from – rather than support – the new boss.

Yet the leadership bargain, like all good deals, brings returns to both sides. Members rely on the leader's skill to hold the show together, through forceful advocacy of the ideas that motivate and unify. The careers of backbenchers depend on the party attaining and retaining office. If they destabilise the party too aggressively they risk their own ministerial future and, perhaps, re-election.

Similarly, state governments depend on a favourable relationship with the national leader. Much state largesse relies on commonwealth money, so a vindictive national leader is a threat to a vulnerable state premier. All in the party fear the barrenness of opposition. As Adlai Stevenson quipped, 'power corrupts, but lack of power corrupts absolutely.' A party out of office has no opportunity to achieve its objectives, dispense patronage or enjoy authority. A leader who can deliver victory thus exerts a powerful attraction. The party must gamble on one person who can project the right message and ensure the required party discipline; if the wheel turns it will carry everyone higher. This trade-off, subordinating individual hopes to a greater cause, is the essence of the bargain. The leader does not have to be good or popular, just successful with their parliamentary colleagues. The public gets little say in this calculation; it is a deal between leader and party room.

The point of comparing gangs with politicians is not just to enjoy the unexpected similarities, but to ponder the lessons. In both arenas, leadership requires an order of skills demanded of few others in our community. Joining a street gang is a matter of taste or situation, but encouraging talented people to consider a political career is difficult. The rewards are modest, the grief great and the risks daunting. To rise to the top requires a rare combination of guile and wisdom, judgement and luck. If the timing proves wrong, a talented individual can spend an entire political career mired in the frustration of opposition. No wonder few are called and fewer respond. Yet it matters greatly in our democracy that gifted women and men decide to make a difference through public service. Most will not become leaders, but each deserves encouragement. The quality of our elected representatives will determine, in turn, the quality of our leaders.

Glyn Davis is a professor of political science and

Vice-Chancellor at the University of Melbourne.

Extract from Leader of the Gang, eSingle, www.griffithreview.com and online booksellers, $4.95