Kamala Harris and the myth of the glass ceiling

What a thrilling number of glass ceilings have been broken this century — with more still to come, apparently. In 2008 America elected its first black president. In 2012 Barack Obama was re-elected and so became the first black president to win re-election. In 2016 America had a chance to elect its first female president but the public blew it and failed to elect Hillary Clinton. Fortunately they somewhat made up for this in 2020 by voting in the first female vice president. A vote that was made sweeter by the fact that, on that occasion, the public had a two-for-one offer and were also able to vote in the first black vice president. Now the public have a further chance to improve themselves by voting for the first black female president.

Hillary Clinton had a chance to ruminate on this at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago last week, declaring that between herself and Kamala Harris: “Together we’ve put a lot of cracks in the highest, hardest glass ceiling. On the other side of that glass ceiling is Kamala Harris raising her hand and taking the oath of office as our 47th president of the United States.”

Close observers might have sensed a certain forced smile on Clinton’s face as she said this. She had hoped to be commander-in-chief since at least the time that her husband was breaking in the new intern pool in the 1990s White House. An unkind person might say: “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” But a kind interpretation of history (of the sort that Hillary is presumably already writing) is that she is like one of those early astronauts who paved the way for Neil Armstrong. Or an early explorer who traversed the Arctic wastelands and in whose historic footsteps other explorers more successfully followed in less bigoted times.

Much of the media is content to frame things in this light. In a news story this week, the BBC asked “whether the political backdrop has transformed enough for the vice president to reach the nation’s highest office.” Are the American public yet bold enough, open-minded enough and — yes — strong enough to agree with a BBC editorial team? We shall see. And the BBC will be watching.

The “glass ceiling” conversation sometimes seems to be the main game in western politics. If the public do not vote for the glass-ceiling-shattering candidate, then it is they who are at fault. Here is the BBC again: “During her run for president in 2016, Mrs. Clinton faced a barrage of criticisms over her appearance, her clothing and even the sound of her voice.” For shame. Anyone with a long memory will recall that in 2016 nobody made any comment on Donald Trump’s appearance, clothing or vocal habits.

If the public do not vote for the glass-ceiling-shattering candidate, then it is they who are at fault

A couple of years after her election defeat, Clinton and her daughter Chelsea were hawking around a book they had put their names to called The Book of Gutsy Women. Asked by the excellent Emma Barnett on the British leg of their tour why this book of female trailblazers did not include Margaret Thatcher, Clinton acknowledged that Britain’s first female prime minister could be said to be “gutsy” but that ultimately she failed to make the grade because “she doesn’t fit the other part of the definition in our opinion, which really is knocking down barriers for others and trying to make a positive difference.” Which is the sort of moment where the game truly reveals itself.

Because — as the wiser students of politics will by now have worked out — a female candidate is not a female candidate if she does not conform to various leftist shibboleths. I do not remember these voices celebrating the idea that Sarah Palin might have broken a glass ceiling. Even the career of Britain’s most successful postwar prime minister can be dismissed by these people if she can be deemed not to have tried to make “a positive difference” — which translates as “doing what the left agrees with.” And so we must agree that Thatcher broke no glass ceilings, was not a force of positive change or even in any real sense a woman, and that the British public can spend this century making up for our bigotry.

In 2017 Britons seized the magnificent opportunity to re-break a glass ceiling when we decided with overwhelming public enthusiasm that it was time to give another woman a go at the top job. Who can forget the resulting glory years of Theresa May? We then had the opportunity to celebrate our first ethnic–minority prime minister in Rishi Sunak and, although he didn’t prove to be our most popular PM, Keir Starmer was among those who paid tribute to his ceiling-shattering. The first words Starmer said, on returning from Buckingham Palace last month, were to thank “the outgoing prime minister, Rishi Sunak, for his achievement as the first British Asian prime minister of our country.” Perhaps it was churlish not to point to all of Sunak’s other achievements. But it didn’t matter, because the achievement for Sunak was in just being, and ceiling-breaking.

In March, Vaughan Gething was likewise celebrated for becoming “the first black leader of Wales.” When he fell from office his supporters inevitably blamed “racism.” Which goes to show that Wales ought to find another black leader to atone for things fast.

Scotland has also broken ceilings by briefly having a Muslim first minister in Humza Yousaf. A point he made on the way up. But on the way down, he started to refer to bigotry — and now says it’s so bad he may have to leave Scotland altogether.

I do wonder how long this can go on. Will it stop when we have all voted in the first black transgender dwarf in each of our countries, and promised to re-elect them? Or will it never stop?

Proportionally, there are three times more gays who are Members of Parliament than there are gays in the general UK population. Which suggests that if representation is the key, there should be a cull of gay MPs at the next election. But that won’t happen. And no one will suggest it.

It’s almost as if “representation” and “glass ceilings” aren’t the real issue. I miss the times when competency and achievement were.

This article was originally published in The Spectator’s UK magazine. Subscribe to the World edition here.