War of words

FEMALE politicians are easily labelled: from the battle-axe to the national mum. Everything they do contributes to the media’s desire to pop them into ready-made boxes, whether it’s their hairstyle, clothes or shoes. But the way they speak, the main task of politicians everywhere, is the most important source of their influence and the biggest potential pitfall. How women leaders talk to voters and each other is soon to get more scrutiny than ever, with Britain’s new prime minister, Theresa May, joining Angela Merkel as two of the most powerful leaders in Europe, and perhaps soon to be ranked with President Hillary Clinton at international summits. The pitfalls for women’s political language come at every level, from tone of voice to word-choice to the topics of conversation to conversational styles.

Authority, for example, is linked to male voices. A study in 2012 showed that a bland political slogan, digitally altered to make it deeper, was more appealing to voters, no matter whether the voices—or the voters—were male or female. This hardly needed experimental proof, however. Margaret Thatcher took elocution lessons in the 1970s as she prepared to become the Conservative Party’s leader and ultimately prime minister. A surprisingly girlish voice from the 1960s became a commanding and much-admired tone during her premiership.

It is not only tone, but variation in tone, that matters. Pitch with a wide band of variation signals emotion. Men who vary their tone are rarely punished for doing so. Mark Liberman, a linguist at the University of Pennsylvania, compared seven Republican presidential candidates’ speeches and found one contender, Rand Paul, to have the most varied pitch. Yet he is not called “emotional”. But for women, variation in tone matters. Mrs Merkel, whose country has come to distrust charismatic leadership and highly personalised debate, rarely varies the pitch of her deep voice, and is known, for her calm, as Mutti, or mum—in this case at least, a mostly admiring label.

Mrs Clinton, an experienced and articulate politician, has a calm and capable delivery in small settings. But she is less comfortable on the stump, especially in the current hot-and-bothered American political climate, where a politician is expected to signal that they are mad as hell and not going to take it any more. When Mrs Clinton attempts this, with her voice high and loud at its peaks, she is called “shrill” and “hectoring”, while her laugh is a “cackle”—words rarely aimed at men.

Another tightrope women must walk is topic. Interviewers rarely ask men about being a man in politics, or their role as husbands and fathers. Women leaders face this regularly, and it can be a trap. Andrea Leadsom, who hoped to defeat Mrs May and become prime minister, was undone partly by a newspaper interview in which she spoke at length about the importance of having children to her candidacy. This was taken as a swipe at the childless Mrs May, and the hapless Mrs Leadsom was soon out of the race.

Women must also beware of pushing back too hard on the sexist culture they face, or risk being labelled as humourless feminists. Type the name of Julia Gillard, Australia’s prime minister from 2010 to 2013, into Google and the search engine will quickly suggest “Julia Gillard misogyny speech”, a fiery denunciation of old-boy sexism she gave in 2012. The speech thrilled admirers, irritated opponents and made her name around the world. But the true feminist triumph will be when women leaders are remembered more for being leaders than for being women.

Finally, there is the issue of how women interact with others. The more “male” a woman behaves in a leadership setting, the more authority she gains—but stacks of research have shown that this comes with a loss of likeability among both women and men. It is hard to be both tough and likeable, but it can be done: Deborah Cameron and Sylvia Shaw, two British academics, analysed the 2015 general-election debates, and found that Nicola Sturgeon, the Scottish Nationalists’ leader, interrupted most among the seven participants. Interrupting is a quintessentially male tactic—the kind of thing women are punished for—but her performance won rave reviews. Ms Cameron notes that Ms Sturgeon moves comfortably between cut-and-thrust debate, statesmanlike speech and warmth. Most politicians are lucky to be good at just one of these, but women must be especially agile to avoid falling into a stereotyped box.