For the last three weeks I have been asking myself the question (and by extension asking you), what type of leader do we need to take us forward as a people in this trying season? I told you that there are four kinds of politicians: The lotioner (the silver tongued one), the grunt (the follower who reaps the rewards of following), the lone wolf (the man who is too temperamental or idealistic to fit in for long), and the bulldog. Today I give you the bulldog.
What makes the bulldog politician a bulldog? Was he born a pushy, rowdy and, (how do Bahamians put it), "disgustin" person? Of course not. Like the lotioner, he is charismatic, but his charisma is less about charm and good looks and more about will and aggression; he gets things done and works harder than everybody else. He is extremely driven and demanding; he is also merciless when disobeyed and harsh when people fail him. He makes an example of traitors and takes everybody else's nerve.
The bulldog, like the lone wolf, has a fire inside. But his fire doesn't come from his beliefs or ideals necessarily. The fire is older than belief, older than principles and ideals. The fire comes from some childhood or adolescent experience. Some experience that pre-dates his political or professional life. Some humiliation. Some deprivation. Some abuse. Some hardship. Some period of instability or destitution. Some hurt. Am I getting too psychoanalytical? I don't think so.
People who achieve great things are not always motivated by what you think they are. Some people achieve and achieve, challenging themselves their whole entire lives, and they never seem satisfied, they never seem pleased with that they've done. Others look on and admire them, wishing they were so fortunate, while the achiever is haunted by the fact that even what he achieved was not all that he had planned. There is some void, some invisible judge or witness that he must please, must prove right or worse yet, prove wrong.
In the case of the bulldog, power and authority are an opportunity to set "things" straight; not set the world straight, not righting wrongs and inequities in society--although this may in fact be a consequence of his actions as leader. No, normally, deep down inside, the bulldog wants power for one thing; one secret thing: usually its revenge. And not revenge against some single enemy, some abuser of his past, some nameable nemesis. No, he wants revenge against life itself, and all the circumstances that created the painful experiences I mentioned earlier. Power and control are his drugs; he lives for them; and with them he can remake the world according to his liking and never again suffer the humiliations of his past.
It should go without saying that bulldogs do well in the military or in business, where they can be as rude, hostile and intimidating as they very well wish--once they're in authority. They don't always make it to the top of nations--well, let's say democracies, 'cause you have to be a bulldog to be a dictator, don't you? Circumstances have to be right for the Bulldog to rise to the top of a democracy. Note the generals who have led countries as president after a major war, for instance. Normally, the lotioner and the lone wolf are preferred over the bulldog; he is the least likeable. Both must have failed or been eliminated before the bulldog is chosen. And he is never chosen by popularity as much as by necessity. He is always the third choice. But once you give him power, dog eat your lunch.
The bulldog politician can be loved, more often though he is hated, feared and grudgingly respected. He's prepared to live with that because he doesn't care if you like him. He is quite comfortable having people hate his guts; he hates theirs right back. But he does value loyalty and will reward those who stand by him. And here's a very important thing to remember about the bulldog: He never forgets when he's been wronged. Never. And despite appearing to explode at the drop of a hat, the bulldog is actually methodical. His explosions are tactical and deliberate not erratic. He plans and plans, savoring the moment when he will finally deal with an adversary.
The bulldog, more than any of the other political types, studies people and their motivations. He has to because he's not a natural charmer. He didn't get to the top through his bloodline, good looks or kilowatt smile. He climbed up, busting his butt, doing the dirty work, snuffing out the enemy and burying the bodies (in a manner of speaking). By the time he has risen to the top there is no politician more cynical and more realistic than the bulldog. He's seen every dirty deal his colleagues have made and he's saved that knowledge for a rainy day. He knows 1,000 ways to backstab; he has watched them all take place. Needless to say, the bulldog can rise to the top more easily in the mafia than in politics.
He wants, loves and needs to be in control and that means controlling people. To control people he must know what motivates them, what drives them. He makes it his business to know what each man wants, needs. He makes it his business to spy on everyone. He is an information addict. He prepares and prepares like a true obsessive personality; he knows he is not liked by many, he knows he must work harder than the next man and produce more in the way of results than the charmers who are his rivals. This makes him impatient with incompetence. He doesn't care for sycophants; in fact they probably disgust him. He doesn't mind being challenged necessarily, just don't do it publicly. He is image conscious yes, but not because he loves being seen; he is image conscious because he knows that his reputation has value. He will work his own legend. And he enjoys making people work like hell to please him. It gratifies him to no end to watch people shake in his presence. If it serves the public good, well, fine, but that was never at the heart of his bossiness, his slave driver's mentality. He just likes being bossy.
Bulldogs rarely give inspiring speeches. They are rarely eloquent. Even when someone writes them an eloquent speech they can't pull off poetry. They tend to bark or snap or snarl. It's not that the bulldog can't please the crowd; he can. It's just that he doesn't please them with oratory as much as he pleases them when he is being his usual mean, hard mouthed, rowdy, fearless, sarcastic self. The masses love a villain; love a bad man. He can have a sense of humor, certainly, but it is never self-effacing or self-mocking; he mocks his enemies.
The lotioner wants to talk before he resorts to blows. He will stab you but he wants you to feel good right before he stuns you with the knife. In truth, he would prefer you and he remain "friends", so if possible he will send someone else to stab you. The lone wolf wants a knock down, drag out fight but he will tell you to meet him somewhere so you can be ready for the showdown. The bulldog stabs you when you're not looking and then insults you after; there won't be any explaining at all. If you can't remember what you did to deserve such treatment too bad for you.
The bulldog has an opinion on every issue and he will act on that opinion. He won't waste time explaining to the people why his chosen course of action is the best; he doesn't have the temperament for holding the people's hand. In fact, he doesn't much like the people, though he can care for them (there's a subtle difference). The lotioner will ignore the hard changes that will anger the people. The lone wolf will exhaust himself trying to explain to the people why the hard changes are necessary and will struggle to implement the changes perfectly, all the while risking betrayal and dissent. The bulldog will make the hard changes his own way; he will do it in such a way that he can gain some advantage in exchange for all the bitching and moaning he'll have to listen to. He doesn't so much care about the change as he wants to show his enemies he can do it better than they can. He doesn't have to completely solve a problem; he just has to do more than his rival would.
The bulldog is a very secretive, private person, who trusts almost no one. He is paranoid, and thinks the worst of most people who enter politics. He is pragmatic; but he is more likely to make unpopular decisions than the lotioner. He is savvier than the lone wolf. He will play politics. He won't lie and BS. He will simply refuse to answer hard questions. His goal is to outsmart you. The lotioner uses hyperbole to win over the crowd. The lone wolf tells the truth too much. The bulldog uses 'red herrings' to navigate his way out of sticky situations. He runs on his record. And usually it is a record of hard-earned accomplishment. Tangible things you can see, measure and tabulate.
He doesn't always like the fact that deals have to be made but he makes them because he wants power. Like the lone wolf, he can walk away from politics far more easily than the lotioner. No, let me correct that. The lone wolf gets kicked out. The lotioner dies in the game. The bulldog is the only one who willingly can walk away. Deep down he thinks democratic politics is BS anyway. He wishes he could run the country like a CEO of a business would; then he'd really have things running in tiptop shape.
Do you recognize this kind of man in our politics? Bradley Roberts? Franklyn Wilson? Leslie Miller? Hubert Ingraham? Believe it or not, Pindling was a bulldog too. He was a hybrid as I said earlier. He started out a smooth-talking lotioner, but repeated challenges to his authority forced him to become tougher, more conniving and ruthless, more intimidating, more controlling. He had to make sure that people who challenged his authority paid a high price. In a country where every Tom, Dick and Harry wants to be in charge just for the glory, you can almost forgive him. One thing is certain, he taught Ingraham every trick he knew.
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