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Leaders Who Act Like Outsiders Invite Trouble

Leaders Who Act Like Outsiders Invite Trouble

(Bloomberg Opinion) -- Senator and presidential candidate Bernie Sanders recently declared himself to be an anti-establishmentarian:

Populism seems to be the order of the day. President Donald Trump, the ideological diametric opposite of Sanders, was elected over the protests of his party’s elder statesmen and media kingmakers. Meanwhile, political movements arise from the groundswell of popular energy coursing through society. Google employees staged a walkout in 2018 to protest the company’s handling of sexual misconduct cases. Other tech companies are feeling the heat from workers angry over political and cultural issues. Rebellions from the ranks have torn apart organizations in the worlds of romance writing, knitting, young adult novels, science fiction and many more. Within media organizations, employees challenge executives. In the economics profession, Twitter users have brought broad public attention to issues of racism and sexism, and right-wing economists have targeted professors they don’t like.

This extraordinary trend of rank-and-file members challenging the leaders of their organizations goes beyond simple populism. There may be no word for this trend in the English language. But there is one in Japanese: gekokujo.

Gekokujo technically means “the low overcoming the high,” and it traditionally was used to describe various rebellions. But in the 1920s and 1930s, the term took on a new and special meaning when it was applied by adherents of the so-called Imperial Way movement. This movement, which envisioned a utopian militarist society, was made up largely of junior-level military officers who openly flouted their superiors. They launched several coup attempts in the 1930s, targeting political and business leaders for assassination (they once even plotted to kill the visiting Charlie Chaplin, but failed). Most of these attacks were only lightly punished because popular sentiment favored the plotters; after a short stay in jail, many coup leaders were released to plan the next uprising. Only after a final cataclysmic confrontation on Feb. 26, 1936, were the Imperial Way fanatics finally suppressed with decisive force on the orders of the emperor himself.

But the damage the Imperial Way did to the Japanese Empire was much greater than its failed coups might suggest. Gekokujo enthusiasts in Japan’s Kwantung Army disobeyed orders and took it upon themselves to start a war in Manchuria that led to that province’s conquest and put Japan on a terminal collision course with China. The Imperial Way faction’s constant popular agitation for use of military force and expansion probably pushed the defenders of the existing military hierarchy, sometimes called the control faction, toward a more aggressive foreign policy; this eventually led to the disaster of World War II (in which gekokujo enthusiasts committed various atrocities).

The modern American enthusiasm for overthrowing existing hierarchies from within, but aided by popular sentiment from without, seems like a less violent echo of Japan’s 1930s gekokujo. Just as coup plotters received light sentences because of popular sympathy from outside the military, supporters of internal revolts at companies, universities, political parties and professional associations now take to Twitter to rally support for their causes. The explosions of online outrage make administrators, executives and other authority figures reluctant to take a hard line against their rebellious subordinates for fear of boycotts, membership or enrollment losses or negative publicity. As journalist Ezra Klein has noted, Twitter is especially effective for this tactic because journalists themselves spend so much time on the platform. But Twitter isn’t the only place gekokujo can erupt; Reddit, Facebook groups, anonymous forums and other outlets are also capable of incubating backlashes and pressure campaigns.

The practice of calling in support from the online public extends across partisan and ideological lines. It has been used to attack gender and racial discrimination but was also partly responsible for the rise of Trump. The only unifying constant is the ever-present threat of a large and angry crowd that gives authority figures pause about cracking down on upstarts within their organizations. Often this is a good thing, because authority figures tend to abuse their power if left unchecked. Sometimes it’s a bad thing; as former CIA analyst Martin Gurri has argued, constant popular anger can paralyze institutions and make it impossible for them to function.

The real danger of gekokujo, however, comes from the establishment’s response to the threat. Eventually, party bosses, executives and other powerful figures may get tired of being pushed around. At that point, there might be a general crackdown on social media and freedom of expression. Even more dangerous, the powers that be might seek to divert the popular energy of gekokujo by starting a war, a wave of repression or some other mass conflict.

Again, Japan’s example is instructive. Ultimately it wasn't the zealots of the Imperial Way faction, but the supposed moderates of the control faction who led the Japanese Empire into the terrible war that would be its undoing. Popular attacks on the establishment can be frightening, but even more frightening is what happens when the establishment finally decides to show the people who’s the boss.

To contact the editor responsible for this story: James Greiff at jgreiff@bloomberg.net

This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of Bloomberg LP and its owners.

Noah Smith is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist. He was an assistant professor of finance at Stony Brook University, and he blogs at Noahpinion.

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