Roels, Ryan 2018 Political Science Thesis

Title: Explaining the Emergence of Female Leaders in Asia: with a focus on , South , and Taiwan Advisor: Nimu Njoya Advisor is Co-author: None of the above Second Advisor: Michael MacDonald Released: release now Contains Copyrighted Material: No

THE EMERGENCE OF WOMEN EXECUTIVES IN ASIA with a focus on Thailand, , and Taiwan

by

RYAN ROELS

Professor Nimu Njoya, Advisor

A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Degree of Bachelor of Arts with Honors in Political Science

WILLIAMS COLLEGE

Williamstown, Massachusetts

MAY 9th, 2018

Preliminary Notes

A quick note. I have followed the conventional naming styles of my case countries. In

Thailand, the first name is used; in South Korea and Taiwan, the last name. Thus, Yingluck denotes , Park denotes Park Geun-hye, and Tsai denotes Tsai Ing-wen.

2 Introduction

In 1960, Sri Lanka (then Ceylon) elected Sirimavo Bandaranaike as the nation’s prime

minister thereby making her the first woman executive in the country, the continent, and the

modern world. Since then Indira Gandhi, Corazon Aquino, Benazir Bhutto, Chandrika

Kumaratunga, Sheikh Hasina, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, Megawati Sukarnoputri, Pratibha Patil,

Roza Otunbayeva, Yingluck Shinawatra, Park Geun-hye, Aung San Suu-kyi, and Tsai Ing-wen

have all become their nation’s (typically first) female leader, all through democratic elections.

Asian countries (excluding the Middle East) that have had one or more women presidents and

prime ministers thus include: India, the Philippines, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Indonesia,

Kyrgyzstan, Thailand, South Korea, Myanmar, and Taiwan.

At the same time, most of these Asian countries present male-heavy political institutions

and anti-female leadership attitudes that do not empower women let alone foreshadow the emergence of a female executive. Firstly, when it comes to the proportion of women in

parliament, countries in Asia (excluding the Middle East) currently average about 19%— a figure below the 24% global mean (IPU 2010). Secondly, when it comes to social attitudes on women, many Asian countries exhibit a male preference and an anti-female bias, for instance by holding a majoritarian perspective that men make better political leaders than women (WVS

1981-2014). Thirdly, all countries in Asia — indeed, all countries of the world — possess an executive office that has been overwhelming populated by men, creating in turn a normatively masculine political domain (Duerst-Lahti 1995). Juxtaposing these barriers to women’s leadership with the simultaneous presence of female presidents and prime ministers prompts a question central to this thesis: what explains the emergence of women executives in Asia?

3 Previous Answers and the Existing Explanatory Framework

The answer thus far is neither complete nor conclusive since the subject (and advent) of

women executives is relatively new and emergent. In fact, as of August 2017 the world has only

seen 114 female executives, with just 19 of them emerging in Asia (Jalalzai and Lee 2017).

Scholars are thus only recently studying female leaders, and especially so within an Asia

comprised of countries in East Asia, Central Asia, South Asia, and Southeast Asia— a

geographic conception of Asia that is prevalent in previous studies1, and one that I continue to

employ in this thesis. In another sense, Asia is particularly interesting to me because of a close

personal attachment; I have lived and travelled in Asia for the past few years, and my roots can

be found in several of its countries. With that in mind, a few scholars have discussed the

intriguing rise of Asia’s female executives, resulting in several fascinating arguments.

In 1990, Linda Richter was one of the first to explore the subject by listing and discussing the factors that unite and hopefully explain the emergence of women leaders in Asia. She, like many others, quickly noted that all but one of these women possess family ties to males previously in politics— a striking pattern that offers interesting avenues of analysis. From there,

Richter explored variables ranging from the ideology of the patriarchy to the effect of female lifestyles, and even considered the influence of electoral arrangements. Her comparative study of countries in Southeast Asia prompted her to assert that family ties enhanced by the male relative’s martyrdom are the point of entry for most of Asia’s female leaders. She argues here that the relation to a storied individual is capable of catapulting women above the usual gender obstacles, such as the potentially-uncomfortable novelty of a female executive (Richter 1990).

1 For further information, see here the geographic groupings of HURIDOCS thesaurus of Bibliographic Standard Formats, as well as previous research by global organizations such as the IPU or by the UNDP.

4 Writing a decade later, Mark Thompson provided another perspective by building on

Richter’s arguments. Analyzing Asia’s history, he explained that family ties emerge in many of the region’s political institutions because they legitimize succession and minimize division. He noted that this kind of “inherited charisma” manifests more frequently in daughters, sisters, or wives rather than sons, brothers or uncles because women can more easily acquire a patriarch’s allure, charm, and experience (Thompson 2015). Put differently, a male successor such as a son is more likely to be judged by the public on his own merits, making it more difficult for him to inherit the charisma of his father (against whom the son might pale in comparison).

In another vein, Thompson also argued that women in Asian countries were (and are) particularly well-suited to lead nascent democratic movements. Their apparent non-partisanship, self-sacrifice, and even political inexperience emphasized the morality of the struggle against dictatorship— a struggle that had been evident in countries such as Pakistan, Myanmar, and the

Philippines, to name only a few. Thompson claimed that in these conflictual contexts the politically-engaged women were reminiscent of Havel’s power of the powerless: opponents did not consider these women threatening; the foreign press celebrated their emergence; and the public viewed attacks on their character as unneeded, heartless, and ungentlemanly (Thompson

2002). Thompson thus attempts to explain the emergence of female leaders in Asia as the alignment of dynastic-charismatic authority with national contexts and gender perceptions.

Writing most recently in 2017, Farida Jalalzai and Young-Im Lee help summarize the trends and enabling factors behind women’s executive advancement in Asia. Using their own study as well as previous research, these two scholars reiterate that women politicians may benefit from gender perceptions in moments of political opportunity (e.g. a struggle against dictatorship, a major electoral defeat, or an institutional scandal), and that the vast majority of

5 female executives in Asia have familial ties to former male presidents or prime ministers. Similar to Richter and Thompson, Jalalzai and Lee briefly explain that these ties help strengthen the chances of a female executive through the provision of political benefits, including a now-higher level of name recognition, press coverage, and public trust (Jalalzai and Lee 2017).

That summarizes the main explanations for the emergence of women executives in

Asia— a small literature produced in part by its similarly small (and recent) sample size. But while these arguments are intriguing they are far from complete; an incompleteness that I believe stems from the recurring inability to explain the timing and mechanism of these seemingly influential factors. Indeed, rather than a conclusive explanation, these studies create several continuing questions. Why do family ties seem to matter for some women candidates in political transitions (e.g. Pakistan) and not in others (e.g. Taiwan)? Why do gender perceptions seem to suddenly become influential in these transitions? Moreover, how do family ties and gender perceptions (e.g. of women as peacebuilders) specifically operate so as to contribute to the emergence of a female executive? Are these factors working below the surface, or are they explicitly manifesting in politics? How so, through which actors, and with what political effects?

These questions reveal in turn a still limited understanding as to how women in Asia emerge as national leaders. In this thesis I will thus take as established a number of these common explanations for women’s rise to executive leadership, and then, by assuming a general relevance of these factors, I will enquire into the timing and mechanisms of these conditions. I aim to explore here the salience and relevance of these factors in the case of Thailand, South

Korea, and Taiwan— three Asian countries that have recently elected a female leader.

However, since Asia-specific research is still limited and emerging, this enquiry of mine is mostly informed by non-Asia studies. Here, we find a literature that focuses on various

6 contributing factors in an attempt to partly explain how women achieve political power (ranging

from positions in the local legislature to the nation’s top executive office). In the resultant

explanatory framework, scholars group contributing factors into structural, cultural, institutional,

and historical conditions that then serve to positively influence a woman politician’s ascension

(Reynolds 1999, Inglehart and Norris 2003, McDonagh 2009, Jalalzai 2013). Those conditions, their comprising factors, and their resultant expectations can be summarized as follows:

Structural factors

These factors concern the supply of eligible women contenders. In one of the landmark

works on women in politics, Farida Jalalzai quantitatively and qualitatively analyzes women

executives across the globe from 1960 to 2010. Her methods reveal several statistically-

significant findings, one of which is that greater percentages of female legislators are positively

associated with women leaders. She reasons that this factor positively aligns with women

executives because it entails a supply of qualified female candidates (Jalalzai 2013).

In separate studies, Jalalzai, and several others, also consider family ties of women

politicians as a structural factor due to its prevalent, widespread presence in female ascension

(Jalalzai and Krook 2010). Like other scholars working on Asia, these authors theorize that

family ties contribute to the emergence of female executives by providing several political perks,

among them the hypothetical ability to entice party gatekeepers (Jalalzai 2013, Saint-Germain

1993). These scholars then demonstrate that family ties become more evident in countries with

low levels of institutionalization (low Polity IV scores) and in political openings (e.g. regime

instability) (Jalalzai 2008). Scholars theorize here that such a pattern exists because instability

provides women with several advantages, including a widening of potential candidates, and a

context that may align with social perceptions of women (Beckwith 2010, Jalalzai 2008).

7 Overall, then, we would expect female leaders that have democratically risen to the

national executive to do so in political structures with a strong number of women in other

governing branches (the higher the women, the better), or, failing that, a political structure where

the emerging woman candidate not only possesses politically-salient family ties, but also runs for office during a context rife with (potentially gendered) political openings.

Cultural factors

These factors concern a country’s prevailing gender stereotypes as well as its religious

and cultural traditions. Previous studies of Western societies have shown that sexism plays some

role in the decision of the voting public (Huddy and Terkildsen 1993), and other global analyses

demonstrate that societies who evince more egalitarian gender attitudes see a higher number of

female politicians (Inglehart and Norris 2003). That being said, other globally-focused research

has found that women’s parity in society is not significantly tied to the emergence of a female

executive (Jalalzai 2013, Jalalzai 2008), as demonstrated by the ever-increasing cases of women

leaders in non gender-egalitarian Africa, Latin America, Eastern Europe and, of course, Asia.

Religions and traditions may also add to the society’s prevailing sexism (as they did

historically), or fuel more positive views of women (as they sometimes do currently) by offering

messages and interpretations on female authority. In fact, recent global research indicates that

various religions can be interpreted to provide female-empowering messages: Islam offers

several images of powerful leading Muslim women; and both Hinduism and Buddhism present

women as awe-inspiring sources of creative energy (Hodson 1997). Similarly, other works

indicate that Christian texts can provide strong messages on the power of female figures, and

(perhaps as a result) Christian countries have had more women in politics, but interestingly only

where the Protestant and not the Catholic version is dominant (Reynolds 1999, Rule 1985).

8 Overall, then, when searching to explain how a woman is able to emerge as the country’s

executive, we would most likely expect a country whose culture displays egalitarian gender

attitudes as well as female-empowering religions and traditions. That being said, scholarly

findings are still emerging in this area, entailing a need for more research. My thesis will thus be

a potential insightful addition, as Asian countries present their own religions and perspectives.

Institutional factors

This set of factors concerns the (theoretical) benefits of electoral procedures, executive

systems, political parties, and gender quotas on emerging female politicians. Previous cross- national research has indicated that women benefit from multi-member and proportional representation systems that produce more women legislators than do single-member majoritarian districts (Darcy, Welch, and Clark 1994, Paxton 1997, Salmond 2006, Yoon 2010).

The executive system itself also affects women’s ascension. The existence of dual executive structures and multiparty systems is positively associated with the emergence of women leaders, and women populate “weak” executive positions that are more limited in their powers (e.g. no control of the armed forces, no veto power over the legislative) (Jalalzai 2013).

Scholars theorize here that women are more likely to emerge in these positions because they diffuse the potential shock of a new woman leader, they align with stereotypical perceptions of women as peaceful deal-brokers, and because they allow for an easy dismissal (Ibid).

Parties, too, are influential to women’s success, with weaker organizations typically promoting fewer women (Lovenduski 1993), less competitive parties nominating more women candidates (Ibid), and left-leaning parties listing more women on the (Kittilson 1999).

9 Gender quotas can also affect women in politics; if the quota succeeds (by aligning with

existing institutions and processes), then the quota will increase the proportion of female

legislators, thereby increasing the chances of a female executive (Thames and Williams 2013).

Overall, then, we would expect a female leader who has emerged past gender barriers to

do so in a context where: the executive is weak and diffused; the ascension to that executive is by

way of proportional voting; the party of the female candidate is moderately-strong and left-

leaning; and the government she enters employs well-adapted gender quotas.

Historical factors

The final group of factors concerns women’s previous political incorporation as well as

women’s involvement in activist movements. Research involving global comparisons indicates

that the earlier dates women could first stand for office correspond with greater numbers of

female parliamentarians and cabinet members (and by extension greater numbers of women

executives), due to the expectation that the longer women have had access to basic political

rights, the greater their chances of achieving political posts (Reynolds 1999).

Somewhat similarly, scholarly work in comparative politics indicates that the sequence of

women’s suffrage expansions appear critical, with the potential meaning that the post-colonial practice of universal and all-encompassing voting inclusion (rather than the historical practice of gradual age-based or race-based voting inclusion) may have an overall larger and more immediate benefit for women’s political prospects (Caraway 2004).

Other global and regional research also notes that women’s activist participation can shape their incorporation in political institutions— an activist participation ranging from women- led feminist causes to male-led nationalist movements (Jalalzai 2013, Beckwith 2000, Baldez

2003). The belief here is that, as women lead or participate in these movements, they may

10 subsequently gain presidencies and prime ministerships not only because of their (new) political

engagement, but also because the electorate may mobilize on behalf of (a now increased)

awareness of women’s issues and agendas (Jalalzai 2013, Adams 2008).

We would therefore expect countries with emerging female executives to have had a

history of women-involved national movements, a history of women having access to political

office, and/or a history where the national government granted suffrage for all women.

Explanatory Limitations

These diverse factors then combine to create a multifaceted, globally-applicable explanatory framework that in turn attempts to explain the emergence of women executives.

Evidently, such a framework understands female ascension through the consideration of specific factors, as well as through the consideration of how these specific factors align and combine with each other. We therefore see the development of structural, cultural, institutional, and historical expectations that then underlie initial explanations for the rise of female leaders.

Unfortunately, while this explanatory framework is quite multifaceted, it is still a growing and evolving framework, one that scholars do not hesitate to describe as presently incomplete and insufficient (Thames and Williams 2013, Jalalzai 2013). Indeed, the reader may have already noticed the prevalence of speculative language in these findings; scholars

“theorize” why certain patterns emerge, or “hypothesize” why various conditions exist, all with a heavy emphasis on the “potential” or “possibility” of their arguments. I believe that this careful, hesitant language may emerge from two concerns: 1) the recent, ongoing and thus frequently shifting nature of the research subject; and 2) the recurring issues that scholars may know of but not address, due in part to the vast complexity inherent to explaining electoral outcomes.

11 Firstly, as new women executives emerge and as studies of those women follow, scholars may produce findings that press against previous research. In fact, this phenomenon has already happened, with new research now issuing growing disagreement on the positive connection between women’s parity in society and their political representation (Jalalzai 2013, Yoon 2010), as well as on the direct relation between proportions of women in the cabinet and the probability of a woman president and/or prime minister (Jalalzai 2013). In other cases, scholars are noting countries or regions that have a high (or low) number of women in government despite not fulfilling (or fulfilling) conditions in the framework; for instance, the high number of female parliamentarians in China amidst negative views of women in politics (Inglehart and Norris

2003), or the small fraction of women in the US Congress (and the US executive) despite the egalitarian gender attitudes largely present in US society (McDonagh 2009).

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, the globally-applicable framework (like the pre- existing explanations for Asian female leaders) possesses the recurring issue of an inability to explain both the timing of the woman executive’s emergence as well as the mechanisms of these contributing factors. That is, while the explanatory framework considers the impact of cultural perspectives on women as well as the influence of women’s historical involvement in politics, it does not clarify when or how these already long-existing factors might influence the ascension of a female politician. Similarly, while the explanatory framework notes the power of familial structural conditions and the gender-alignment of weak executive institutions, the framework does not account for when or how these (again, pre-existing) conditions help a particular female politician during a particular time period. Several questions thus (re)emerge: how do these factors specifically and contextually operate rather than simply exist? Are these structural,

12 cultural, institutional and historical conditions working below the surface, or are they explicitly

manifesting in politics— how, when, and with what effects on women candidates?

Of course, these questions do not nullify the explanatory framework nor the previous

arguments as to why Asia has had so many female executives, but rather offer new avenues and

opportunities through which we may enlarge our understandings of women in politics. By doing

so, we can contribute to the creation of a more robust explanatory framework, one that offers a

more comprehensive explanation as to why, where, how and when female leaders emerge.

Main Objective and Methodology

This thesis seeks to contribute to the creation of that more robust explanation by

addressing the still insufficient explanations on the emergence of Asia’s female leaders, and by

extension the still insufficient explanations procured from the globally-applicable framework

(both of which suffer from the recurring issue of an inability to explain the timing and mechanisms of these explanatory factors). To do so, I employ a method that (re)highlights and

(re)specifies the limitations of the framework, and thereafter provides a helpful addition to that framework, all while focusing on three cases of women executives in Asia. To be clear, this thesis aims neither to disconfirm findings of the literature, nor to replicate certain studies, nor even to replace current understandings with my own explanations. Instead, I aim to extend the findings of the literature, to contribute more useful mileage for an extra explanatory mile.

My investigation thus begins with an analysis of how well the existing explanatory framework fits in the three countries of Asia that most recently elected a woman executive (a careful case selection that I soon discuss). However, rather than using the full range of analytical categories, I will employ a simplified schema that combines the structural with the institutional, and the cultural with the historical. Furthermore, I will not give all of the factors I previously

13 listed equal attention, due to ongoing limitations in the literature, as well as due to research

issues currently under discussion. Through this simplified and shortened framework, I assert first

the kinds of conditions we would expect to find in these countries given the previous studies, and

thereafter describe what factors we actually do find in these three countries. I aim here to assess

the case-specific relevance and salience of factors that have been established by previous

research, to see how far these contributing factors work in providing an explanation for my three

cases of Asian female executives. If factors do not appear salient and relevant, or if they do not

appear to have enough salience and relevance, I then aim to discern where the limitations of the

framework arise, and thus where the opportunities for elaboration begin.

From there, I move to a case-by-case exploration of a set of factors that I have created in

the hopes of contributing to the explanatory framework. Motivating this shift is the framework's

recurring inability to explain timing and mechanism— an inability that I believe stems from an

overemphasis on structure and culture. In the hopes, then, of partly addressing this limitation I

have shifted the focus towards the candidate and “candidate-specific factors”. Here, I consider

the kinds of family ties and political experiences that the candidate possessed, as well as if and

how they used those traits during the campaign. I then analyze the strength and efficacy of the

candidate’s proposed policies and rhetoric given the national situation and pre-election context.

From there I move to examining if and how the candidate’s gender was mobilized during the campaign, for example as a rhetorical device or avenue of attack— both for the candidate and for her opponents. Finally, I consider the candidate’s campaign image: what message(s) was she trying to project, bolster, or nullify based on her public activity?

To help craft my interpretive analysis of each of these factors, I have consulted the candidate’s materials (posters, pamphlets, and speeches), as well as articles in the local media

14 pertaining to the presidential or prime ministerial campaign. My overall aim here is to investigate whether the candidate herself acted in ways that (positively or negatively) affected her rise to the executive office, and how my analysis of these actions might in turn modify the factors of the existing explanatory framework in ways that bolster its pre-existing explanations.

My premise here is that structural and cultural factors do not by themselves work to produce electoral outcomes. Furthermore, although gender perceptions and barriers are evident in all of the country cases that scholars have studied, gender is a social construct that varies from one situation to another. As a result, we need to study how the candidate herself mobilizes advantageous gender norms, reduces gender barriers, and leverages seemingly gender-neutral factors (e.g. the economy) — all within a particular context — so as to strengthen her chances of victory. Certainly, in many cases it would seem the issues candidates address appear gender neutral; after all, male candidates also speak on national topics such as the economy, and on personal topics such as their family. However, the normatively masculine character of executive office entails that even when women candidates are addressing universal issues, they face a barrier specific to their politically-novel gender, a barrier that in turn significantly shapes the their policies, rhetoric, and image— in short, the entirety of their campaign.

Case (and Region) Selection

My specific cases concern Yingluck Shinawatra’s ascension in Thailand, Park Geun- hye’s rise in South Korea, and Tsai Ing-wen’s victory in Taiwan— three cases that I chose for their recency as well as their fruitful opportunities of insight. As I mentioned previously, the study of women executives is an emerging, constantly shifting terrain, one that might shake and change with each election of a new female leader. As such, I have selected the three most recent

15 female executives in Asia (elected in 2011, 2012, and 2016, respectively) which hopefully serves to keep this thesis relevant and topical for future research on women in the executive.

Furthermore, these cases present fascinating opportunities for exploring the timing and mechanisms of contributing factors. Yingluck and Park both possess controversial family dynasties, and Tsai has no political-family background— a setup that allows for the exploration of how family ties specifically and contextually operate so as to benefit the female candidate.

Similarly, the countries of Thailand, South Korea, and Taiwan offer varying but gradual degrees of gender parity (Thailand the least equal, Taiwan the most) as well as political institutions that range from parliamentary monarchies to presidential republics. This spectrum of variables in turn allows us to probe and examine the relevance and salience of previously established factors, and thereafter whether candidate-specific factors may also be playing a role.

As for the selection of this East and Southeast region (not to mention the larger Asian continent), I could point to the region’s traditions of Confucianism that have thus far seen little analysis in studies of women executives. But I choose instead to reemphasize my personal interest in and attachment to the region; Asia is for me a place of keen interest, a continent that offers fascinating insights into the developments of societies, economies, and politics.

Main Argument

Through these cases and my detailed analysis of the campaign context and candidates’ strategies for enhancing opportunities and minimizing barriers, I find two significant patterns.

The first pattern emerges in part from previous studies (Jalalzai 2013), but I re-emphasize that the current framework is limited, incomplete, and insufficient. Indeed, when applying the framework to the in 2011, South Korea in 2012, and Taiwan in 2016, I find that these countries partly fulfill expectations in ways that offer an initial understanding of

16 women’s rise to executive office. But more frequently, we see factors that not only contradict our

expectations but do so in ways that actually disadvantage female politicians. Furthermore, as

expected, the current framework possesses the recurring inability to explain the timing and mechanism of its various constitutive factors, leading to the understanding that the framework requires further elaboration and modification so as to provide a more robust explanation.

The second pattern partly fulfills this requirement, and emerges during my case- and candidate-specific analyses. I find here that these three female candidates worked to strengthen their chances of success using more professional aspects such as experience, policies and rhetoric, as well as more personal facets such as image, family ties, and, gender. More specifically, I show that these candidates: referenced their dynasty and experience so as to attract voters and establish their legitimacy; promoted policies couched in a rhetoric that first enticed and second persuaded the electorate; used the heightened and politicized perception of their gender in ways that augmented their capabilities and reinforced their credentials; and crafted an image that broadened their reach and elevated their appeal. In doing so, these candidate-specific factors partly address issues of timing and mechanisms, all while extending the literature.

My thesis therefore argues that the analysis of candidate-specific factors helps provide a significant contribution to the existing framework that attempts to explain the emergence of

(Asian) women executives. Moreover, I believe that the existing framework should include candidate-specific factors when explaining the emergence of female executives; I am calling here for a methodological innovation as well as a conceptual shift: to understand how women rise to power we should not only consider the structural factors that underlie that ascension, but also give more agency and presence to the very woman candidate who is doing the ascending.

17 This central argument carefully unfolds in six chapters. Following this introduction, my second chapter will apply my simplified structural-cultural schema to my case studies, offering a comparative overview of contributing factors in all three countries. The third, fourth, and fifth chapters then consist of the chronological, country-specific analyses of my candidate factors:

Thailand will be followed by South Korea, and then finally by Taiwan. The last chapter then concludes this thesis; it summarizes my findings, contemplates my limitations, highlights my contributions, and speculates on the larger implications of my research.

As for the significance of this work, I hope to indicate over the subsequent chapters that while gender is a relatively recent lens of analysis, it is a highly-influential aspect that provides many fruitful avenues for critical thinking. Indeed, gender presents to us the many fascinating ways in which personhood is publically-constructed, and the resultant power relations that exist in those public constructions. My ultimate hope is that by comprehending these elements we may not only improve our knowledge of gender studies and its relation to power, but also that we may use this knowledge to improve our political institutions— institutions that have frequently promoted a gender-based kind of political exclusion and favoritism.

18 An Initial but Insufficient Explanation

As I demonstrated in the introduction, there exists in the literature on women executives a framework of structural, cultural, institutional, and historical conditions that encompasses how scholars have attempted to explain the emergence of female leaders. By grouping the institutional with the structural, and the historical with the cultural, I find that (for my purposes) I can further simplify the existing explanatory framework into just two groups: the structural and the cultural. Here, structural factors concern: executive systems; electoral procedures; political parties; and women in politics. Cultural factors contain: religions and traditions; gender attitudes; family ties; and pre-election contexts and movements. In this chapter I apply that simplified schema to my three countries, explaining first what kinds of factors we should expect given the framework, and then present how these factors actually appeared within these three cases.

By doing so, I reveal the striking pattern that while these countries sometimes fulfill our expectations, they more often fail to fulfill our expectations; moreover, they fail to fulfill them in ways that offer other factors more damaging to emerging female executives. Furthermore, when these factors do align with our expectations, the framework not only struggles to account for the contextual relevance of those factors (since in many cases these factors may have existed for several years) but also falters in explaining how those factors specifically function rather than simply exist. This chapter thus reinforces the statement that the explanatory framework is still limited and incomplete (Jalalzai 2013), and now by highlighting that it suffers from an inability to explain the timing and mechanisms of its constitutive elements. As a result, I argue that the framework produces an initial understanding but an insufficient explanation when analyzing the emergence of female leaders in Thailand in 2011, South Korea in 2012, and Taiwan in 2016.

19 Structural Factors

The framework on women’s paths to executive leadership would lead us to expect certain

structural factors underlying the emergence of a female leader. Firstly, since women are more

easily able to obtain “weak” executives (Jalalzai 2013), we would expect a government headed

by a limited and easily deposed prime minister with ascension by party appointment rather than

by direct election (Ibid). Secondly, since the success of a woman candidate is influenced by her

party and rises with the proportion of women in politics (Kittilson 1999, Davis 1997), we would

expect the female leader to represent a moderately-strong party that leans to the left, and a government with an already strong proportion of female politicians (Lovenduski 1993, Kittilson

1999). In my cases I find some confirmation of these expectations, but more frequently a vast number of differences— some of which provide several disadvantages for women leaders.

Executive Systems

The hypothesis drawn from previous studies is that weak presidential/parliamentary

systems are more favorable to women candidates (Jalalzai 2013). We would thus expect in my

cases an executive with limited governmental powers and restrained duties. Thailand’s executive

confirms this expectation; here, the prime minister oversees the daily activities of governance

(signing bills, meeting foreign dignitaries), but he/she does not oversee the Thai military (no

politician does), and the Thai king is still head of state (CP 2007). Before claiming, however, that

this factor ensured Yingluck’s ascension, it is worth noting that this weak executive had existed

before — in fact, since 1998 — without the rise of a female leader (FH 2012).

In contrast to Thailand, both South Korea and Taiwan have a rather dominant presidency

(Jalalzai 2013), with both offices overseeing their country’s military as their nation’s head of

state. Furthermore, the ratifies treaties, issues legal decrees, and

20 appoints public officials, one of whom is the prime minister in charge of directing various

executive ministries (CP 1948). Similarly, the President of Taiwan issues laws, promulgates mandates, and appoints or dismisses state officers all while exercising oversight over Taiwan’s various Yuans (CP 1947). Both Taiwan and South Korea therefore contradict our expectations for a weak executive system; moreover, the strong powers these offices possess actually work against expectations by providing historical and theoretical disadvantages to executive female candidates (Jalalzai 2013). We must ask, then, how Tsai and Park were able to navigate through these structural constraints so as to rise to their country’s presidency.

Electoral Procedures

While a democracy and its competitive elections provides an initial benefit for women candidates, studies show that the democracy’s type of election matters when it comes to the success of women candidates. That is, party-based proportional systems of voting tend to favor women politicians, while direct candidate-based elections usually disadvantage women officials

(Salmond 2006, Yoon 2010). We would thus expect party-based, proportional voting systems in each of my three countries— an expectation that again only holds true in Thailand.

Here, in 2011, Yingluck came to power through a public election that listed the party name (Pheu Thai) and not the candidate’s name (Yingluck Shinawatra) on the ballot (see

Appendix). Yingluck, though, was not an invisible figure who hid behind the party name; most

Thais already knew that she was to be the Pheu Thai prime minister (Tansubhapol 2011). We must again consider here that this (beneficial) system of voting had existed in Thailand prior to

Yingluck’s rise in 2011, but without the election of a female prime minister.

Moving to the countries, we see again a stark contrast to Thailand and by extension to the expectations of the framework. In South Korea, Park’s election occurred through a direct popular

21 election with that listed her name (Park Geun-hye) and then her party (Saenuri) (see

Appendix). In Taiwan, Tsai Ing-wen also ascended through a direct popular election with ballots that listed her name (Tsai Ing-wen) and then her party (Democratic Progressive Party) (see

Appendix). Once again, then, South Korea and Taiwan have clashed against the framework’s

expectations to the point of presenting other factors that have historically disadvantaged female

politicians (Jalalzai 2013). We must therefore ask again how Tsai and Park were able to navigate

through these structural constraints so as to rise to their country’s presidency.

Political Parties

Previous global analyses on women executives and their paths to power indicate that the

parties they represent have a strong influence on their electoral emergence. The key is the party’s

strength and the party’s ideology: weaker organizations typically promote fewer women

(Lovenduski 1993); less competitive parties nominate more women candidates (Ibid); leftist

parties list more women on the ballot (Kittilson 1999); and corporatist catch-all parties propel

women to high government (Wiliarty 2008). Creating expectations is thus a complex task, but we

would most likely expect a woman candidate to emerge from a moderately-strong party, one that leans to the left or stands in the center, and always within a multiparty system (Jalalzai 2013). In my three countries, those expectations are both somewhat evident and somewhat absent.

All three women (unexpectedly) represented strong parties within an (expectedly) multiparty system. Furthermore, while Yingluck’s Pheu Thai expectedly drifts center-right (PTP

2011) and Tsai’s DPP stands firmly on the left (DPP 2017), Park’s leans unexpectedly to the right (LKP 2017)— although we should note that several female leaders have emerged on conservative tickets. I therefore conclude that the parties in these cases neither

22 disprove nor confirm expectations, leaving us with yet another instance where these countries do not align with the expectations — and by extension the explanations — of the framework.

Women in Politics

Analysts claim that by having many women in politics, societies can both normalize the image of women as leaders and ensure the supply of female presidential candidates (Reynolds

1999). We therefore expect that prior to the election of a female executive there was a notable presence of women in government, either in the legislative or in the executive (and most influentially as a previous leader) (Jalalzai 2013). Such an expectation still applies to my three cases — despite the fact that each country voted in their first female executives — simply because having many women politicians would encourage the election of a (first) female leader.

Only Taiwan, however, confirms this expectation. Here, the relatively high levels of women in government (34% of the Legislative Yuan), previous female vice president (Lü Hsiu- lien, who was elected in 2000), and implementation of reserved-seat gender quotas (in both local and national elections) all offered a notable presence of women at multiple levels of Taiwanese politics (Chang-Ling 2015, Sui 2016). That being said, this factor cannot alone explain why Tsai rose to power in 2016 (and not another woman in previous years, or not even Tsai herself when she ran in 2012), as this factor had existed before without the election of a female president.

Taiwan’s notable presence of women in politics is thus similar to Thailand’s weak executive system or party-based proportional electoral procedures; these factors and their longevity fail to explain the timing and context of the female executive’s emergence.

In contrast to Taiwan, Thailand and South Korea exhibit a quite limited presence of women in politics. Indeed, at the time of elections these countries had only between 5 and 10% of their national legislature as women (well below the global average of 23%), as well as no non-

23 symbolic women in top executive posts (IPU 2010). That is, Thailand does have a queen, and

South Korea did have a female prime minister, but both these positions have rather limited

functions (CP 2007, CP 1948) further curtailed by a then-male head of state. The factor of a

notable presence of women in politics can thus only apply to Taiwan (and even then in

contextually-unspecific ways), thereby limiting the explanatory power of the framework, and

offering the question as to how Yingluck and Park ascended without this contributing factor.

Conclusion

In sum, my three case studies occasionally align with and confirm expectations I derived

from previous studies of women executives, but overwhelming demonstrate factors that not only

conflict with what we might expect, but in that conflict even offer other factors that may inhibit

the emergence of female presidents and prime ministers. Using the structural part of the simplified framework thus provides an initial understanding as to why these women emerged

(e.g. strong parties, competitive elections) but more persistently offers a recurring inability to explain the timing and mechanisms of its various explanatory factors. Indeed, in several instances we see factors that had existed for several years without the election of a female executive (e.g. Thailand’s electoral procedures), or even factors that have historically inhibited women politicians (e.g. South Korea’s and Taiwan’s strong presidencies) amidst the rise of a female leader. But before claiming that the explanatory framework is insufficient with regards to my cases, I turn to exploring the explanatory weight of cultural (and historical) factors.

Cultural Factors

Similar to structural factors, previous studies would lead us to expect certain cultural

factors underlying a woman’s successful candidacy. Specifically, we would expect: religions and

traditions that empower women as leaders (Hodson 1997); gender attitudes that view men and

24 women as similarly capable when it comes to matters of public leadership (Inglehart and Norris

2003); family ties that provide several political benefits (Jalalzai 2004); and finally, pre-election contexts that provide political openings and empower women politicians (Jalalzai 2008). When I apply these expectations to my case studies, I find that these countries (again) partly meet these expectations, but more often leave them unfulfilled and unanswered, offering instead factors that further indicate the framework’s limitations and thereby reveal areas for further research.

Religions and Traditions

Prior analyses on women executives have shown that established religions — while having historically buttressed sex-based political barriers — can in modern times positively affect women in politics (Reynolds 1999). As I mentioned before, scholars note that: Christian countries typically produce a higher proportion of women in political office (Ibid); Hindu and

Buddhist texts offer a duality of gender that one can interpret as significantly empowering

(Waldley 1997); and Islam provides several inspiring examples of powerful and authoritative women (Hodson 1997). We should thus expect in my cases an interpretation of a majority religion that has been sufficiently liberalized to support and enable women in politics.

Only Thailand demonstrates a social dominance of one of these religions, with 95% of the population identifying as Buddhist (CIA 2015). However, it is unclear whether that

Buddhism is interpreted by Buddhist Thais in female-empowering ways, especially when considering the ongoing controversy surrounding female monks and their inclusion in the sangha

(Kumari 2014). Furthermore, even if we were to consider Buddhism as a contributing factor to

Yingluck’s ascension, we must note that Buddhism (like several other factors) had existed in

Thailand prior to Yingluck’s rise, without the election of a female leader.

25 In my other cases, we see a minority practice of Buddhism, and a striking prevalence of

Confucianism (note here that Thailand also possesses strong Confucian influences) (CIA 2015).

Such a tradition is not included in previous studies on women executives, which may be partly understandable given that countries where this ideology dominates have prior to 2011 not elected a single female executive. That being said, my case studies now demonstrate that women can rise in Confucian contexts, perhaps partly because of those Confucian contexts. I therefore call here for an expansion of cultural factors in a way that now includes or at least discusses the political gender impacts of Confucianism, especially when considering that in the past ten years three

Confucian countries have elected a woman executive. For now, though, that cultural expansion lies beyond this thesis, entailing that we cannot rely on empowering interpretations of religions and traditions for an explanation on the emergence of these female leaders.

Gender Attitudes

Previous studies have argued that gender attitudes influence the emergence of women politicians, with more egalitarian attitudes usually correlating with higher proportions of female government officials, while sex-based discriminatory attitudes are more evident in societies that produce fewer women legislators (Inglehart and Norris 2003). That being said, recent global research has indicated that women’s parity in society is not significantly tied to the emergence of a female executive (Jalalzai 2013), as demonstrated by ‘outlier’ cases in South America, Africa,

Eastern Europe, and, of course, Asia. As a result, there is no particularly strong expectation for this factor, and so my three countries become instead a potential source of insight.

Out of the three cases, only Taiwan demonstrates egalitarian gender attitudes. Here, when asked if men make better political leaders than women, 59.2% of Taiwan’s respondents disagreed, with only 21.8% of respondents agreeing (WVS 2014). However, before asserting that

26 such a factor cemented Tsai’s emergence, we must note that female-supportive gender attitudes cannot by themselves explain the specific timing of the rise of a female leader since these attitudes had been present before Tsai’s 2016 ascension, without producing a woman executive prior to 2016, even and especially when Tsai ran for the presidency in 2012.

My other cases indicate an altogether different issue. In South Korea, posing the same gender and politics question had a slightly less 54% of participants disagreeing, but a far stronger

44% of them agreeing (Ibid). In Thailand, only 45% disagreed while 54% either agreed or strongly agreed (Ibid). These two responses thus indicate a social context wherein women experience gender-based attitudinal disadvantages, which in turn first reaffirms the weak link between social gender parity and women executives, and second prompts a questioning of how these women navigated these barriers during their executive ascension.

In sum, then, we see that these three women emerged in differing attitudinal contexts— an observation that offers no new insights for the link between gender attitudes and female executives, and instead urges further investigations into how the ascension of female leaders relates and interacts with these gender perceptions. The factor of gender attitudes thus currently provides a limited understanding as to why a woman was able to emerge— a limitation that in turn prompts a questioning of when and how that woman emerged.

Family Ties

Studies have posited that family ties help to explain how women achieve power in contexts where they experience disadvantaging stereotypes and/or lag behind men in professional achievement (Jalalzai 2008). Given that two of my cases have this disadvantaging situation — and that in all three of them women lag behind men in political achievement — we would expect that in all of my cases the female leader possessed a previous family tie.

27 Taiwan fails to meet that expectation while Thailand and South Korea fulfill it. In

Taiwan, Tsai possessed no political-family relations prior to her ascension— a trait that makes

her unique in the dataset of Asian women executives. In Thailand and South Korea, however,

both Yingluck and Park emerged from a political dynasty: Yingluck was preceded by her brother

Thaksin Shinawatra (Prime Minister of Thailand from 2000 to 2006); and Park by her father

Park Chung-hee (President of South Korea from 1963 to 1979).

Nevertheless, in both these cases the family tie was not simply laden with political

perks— a trait we would expect having read previous analyses of women executives (Jalalzai

2013). Indeed, these two dynasties are rather controversial legacies: Yingluck’s brother had

experienced numerous corruption allegations and a resultant growing unrest (Hewison 2010);

and Park’s father led an infamous authoritarian regime that had suffocated South Korea’s

fledgling democracy (Kamiya 1980). Family ties in these cases thus do not simply contribute to

explaining how these women came to power; rather, the family ties in these examples (and I

would wager in other cases too) demand a deeper analysis to see if and how they contribute to

their recipients. Adding in the fact that Tsai Ing-wen rose to power without a dynasty — and that

these dynasties had existed previously without women executives — I find that family ties

provide us with an initial sense of how these women came to politics, but fail to explain if and

how these women used these traits for an electoral advantage. The existing framework could

therefore use elaboration on this point so as to produce a more robust explanation.

Pre-Election Contexts

Previous analyses indicate that political openings and social movements allow marginalized actors, including women, to enter the political fold (Jalalzai 2008). These openings can be in the form of a lack of institutionalization, high-level scandals, or a major electoral

28 defeat— situations where political turbulence make a country’s executive office more open to challenge (Jalalzai 2013). Similarly, these movements can be in the form of national rallies that engage and situate women as key political actors — situations that in turn empower women as public leaders. We expect then that in these three countries there was a political opening and/or a political movement that created a context ripe for a woman executive.

All three countries fulfill the expectation of a political opening, but not the expectation of a national (pro-woman’s) movement. In Thailand, from 2006 to 2011, the Kingdom experienced four different governments, three different prime ministers, a military regime, and no public elections (BBC 2011). Beginning in 2009, Thailand also witnessed an escalating domestic conflict between Red Shirts (Thaksin supporters) and Yellow Shirts (royalists and ultra- nationalists) that culminated in 14 deaths and 91 injuries (Buchanan 2013). Before claiming, however, that this situation opened the executive office to Yingluck, one must note that Thailand had experienced this unstable political context before (most notably in 2008) without the election of a female leader. Thus, instead of simply assuming an opening, we must question first how

Yingluck responded to the national opening, and with what political effects.

Such an observation also holds true in my other cases. While South Korea and Taiwan did not experience any of Thailand’s institutional instability, both countries witnessed several high-level political scandals. In South Korea, corruption trials occurred throughout 2011 and

2012 at various levels of governance, all amidst ever-increasing tensions with (FH

2013). In Taiwan, several officials were tried and convicted of malfeasance in government procurement, all within a context of continually-strained cross-strait relations and Sunflower

Movement protests (FH 2017). That being said, corruption scandals, international tensions, and protests are nothing new to either country (FH, Polity IV), and thus did not create a novel

29 opening for these women. This situation thus (re)poses the question as to how Park and Tsai (and

Yingluck) responded to this context, and with what kinds of political effects.

Conclusion

In sum, my cases occasionally present cultural factors that align with our expectations, but also demonstrate factors that either contrast with what we would expect, or present factors that leave our expectations unanswered and thus unfulfilled. At certain times these factors even present conditions that beg for further research and clarification, such as on the (empowering?) influence of Confucianism, or on the political dynamics of gender attitudes. These questions in turn further reveal the explanatory limitations and issues of the framework, in particular the inability of the (occasionally-aligning) framework to explain the timing and mechanisms of its constitutive and contributing factors. I argue therefore that this exploration of cultural factors has

— similar to structural factors — provided an initial understanding but an incomplete explanation, rendering the existing explanatory framework as currently insufficient when applied to the cases of Thailand in 2011, South Korea in 2012, and Taiwan in 2016.

30 Conclusion: Incorporating the Candidate and the Campaign

Structural Factors:

Key: Executive Electoral Political Parties Women in Blue: Structures Procedures (Party name, Politics Alignment (Government (Ballot format, party strength, (Previous Red: System, Jalazai’s System of party ideology) executive Divergence Power Ranking2) elections) women, IPU percentages)

Expectations System: Ballot: Strength: Executive: Dual executive Party-based Moderately-strong VP and/or lower

Ranking: Voting System: Ideology: Legislative: Weak executive Proportional vote Left-leaning 23% (global average) or above (Jalalzai 2013) (Jalalzai 2008 (Lovenduski 1993, Salmond 2006, Kittilson 1999) (Jalalzai 2013) Yoon 2010)

Thailand System: Ballot: Strength: Executive: 2011 Dual executive Party-based Major party None (CIA 2015) Voting System: Ideology: Legislative: Ranking: Proportional vote Center-right 13% Weak executive (Pheu Thai 2011) (IPU 2015)

South Korea System: Ballot: Strength: Executive: 2012 Single executive Candidate-based Major party None (CIA 2015) Voting System: Ideology: Legislative: Ranking: Direct vote Right-leaning 15% Dominant presidency (Saenuri 2012) (IPU 2015)

Taiwan System: Ballot: Strength: Executive: 2016 Single executive Candidate-based Major party VP (CIA 2015) Voting System: Ideology: Legislative: Ranking: Direct vote Left-leaning 34% Dominant presidency (DPP 2016) (Sui 2016)

Cultural Factors:

2 See Jalalzai 2013, pp. 58

31 Key: Religions and Attitudes on Family Ties Pre-Election Context Blue: Traditions Gender (Presence, (Political Openings Alignment (Presence, (WVS: Agree; Legacy, and/or Woman’s Red: Type) Disagree) Type) Movement) Divergence

Expectations Religion: V51: 45%> ; 55%< Presence: Political Openings Christianity, Yes (instability, scandal, Hinduism, V53: 45%>; 55%< or major defeat): Yes Islam, or Buddhism Legacy: V45: 45%>; 55%< Executive Women’s Tradition: movements: Yes See above V50: 45%>; 55%< Type: Beneficial (Jalalzai 2013) (Hodson 1997) (WVS 2010-2014)3 (Jalalzai 2013)

Thailand Religion: V51: 54% ; 45% Presence: Political Openings 2011 Buddhism (95%) Yes (instability, scandal, (CIA 2015) V53: 40% ; 60% Legacy: or major defeat): Yes Executive Tradition: V45: 31% ; 40% Type: Women’s movements: Confucianism Controversial No (Rozman 1991) V50: 72% ; 27% (FH 2012, PIV 2014)

South Korea Religion: V51: 44% ; 54% Presence: Political Openings 2012 P. Christianity (25%), Yes (instability, scandal, Buddhism (15%) V53: 42% ; 56% Legacy: or major defeat): Yes (CIA 2015) Executive V45: 32% ; 23% Type: Women’s movements: Tradition: Controversial No Confucianism V50: 55% ; 45% (FH 2013, PIV 2014) (Rozman 1991)

Taiwan Religion: V51: 24% ; 70% Presence: Political Openings 2016 Buddhism (36%) No (instability, scandal, (CIA 2015) V53: 25%; 70% Legacy: or major defeat): Yes N/A Tradition: V45: 41%; 46% Type: Women’s movements: Confucianism N/A No (Rozman 1991) V50: 17% ; 79% (FH 2017, PIV 2014)

3 V51: On the whole, men make better political leaders than women do? | V53: On the whole, men make better business leaders than women do? | V45: When jobs are scarce men should have more right to a job than women | V50: When a mother works for pay, the children suffer

32 As seen in these tables, we notice that my cases sometimes meet our expectations, but

more frequently fail to fulfill them. Moreover, they fail to fulfill them in ways that indicate other

factors (e.g. direct voting systems, biased gender attitudes) that historically and theoretically

disadvantage female executive candidates. As a result, I find that while the framework has

allowed us to achieve an initial understanding, it has failed to supply a strong explanation for

why these women emerged, especially when it comes to the context and operations of their

emergence. I confirm therefore the previous claims that the current explanatory framework is

still limited and incomplete (Jalalzai 2013); more specifically, it requires further clarification so

as to address the recurring inability to explain the timing and mechanisms of factors.

I turn, then, to the next part of my thesis, one that analyzes candidate-specific factors in an aim to improve the existing framework’s factors and thus contribute to a stronger explanation for how and when women executives emerge. As I mentioned in the introduction, I have chosen to create and include this new set of factors not only because they hypothetically elaborate on some of the unclear structural and cultural conditions (e.g. family ties), but also because most of these candidate-specific factors occur during the pivotal campaign period and thus offer at least the potential of a more contextualized explanation. Similar to structural and cultural conditions, these candidate-specific factors comprise a set of aspects, namely: the candidate’s background as well as political experience (and their use of both during the campaign); the candidate’s policies and rhetoric; the manifestation of the candidate’s gender during the campaign; and the candidate’s overall image. By doing so, I aim to place the candidate as the central agent in her own election success with the underlying argument that she demonstrated the political skills and actions to strengthen her own candidacy and thus to help explain her own emergence.

33 Yingluck Shinawatra in Thailand: A New Look in an Old Name

In May of 2011, the Kingdom of Thailand was rocked by an unexpected announcement:

Yingluck Shinawatra was going to be the leading face of the Pheu Thai Party; moreover, she was running for the position of the nation’s prime minister. For many, the party decision seemed naive and foolish. Yingluck had no prior experience, and was one of the lesser-known and quieter members of the famous Shinawatra family. A few months later, however, choosing

Yingluck seemed like a stroke of genius; the Pheu Thai party had won an outright 44% of the national vote, far surpassing the 32% of the incumbent Democrats and their highly educated and experienced leader. The question was obvious: how did Yingluck manage to do it?

To recapitulate, an explanatory framework emerges from previous studies of women executives that highlights structural and cultural factors that benefit emerging female leaders. In

Thailand, the expectations of the framework fit but still remain insufficient. Thailand’s weak executive, party-based voting, and unstable contexts all provide women with political openings and even advantages— but these factors had existed in the past with no new women executives.

As a result, these initial factors fail to account for the timing and mechanism of Yingluck’s ascension, leading in turn to a limited explanation. Shifting, then, to an analysis of my proposed candidate-specific factors, I uncover additional elements that build upon the understandings of the framework in ways that provide a more contextualized explanation for Yingluck’s emergence. Here, I find that Yingluck utilized her dynasty and background to leverage more support and authority, while also aligning her policies and rhetoric with both the national context and her perceived gender in order to persuade the electorate. When tied to her at once fresh and familiar image, we see an overall campaign strengthened by the candidate for her success.

34 Family Background and Political Experience

Coming into elections, Yingluck possessed a somewhat controversial dynasty, and a career distinctly devoid of political experience— two traits that could theoretically limit her candidacy by implying a lack of preparedness or a continuation of a banned regime. As a result,

Yingluck endeavored to frame these traits of hers in a more positive light, namely by mobilizing

her dynasty’s large voting base and by drawing on that dynasty as a form of political experience,

all while carefully ensuring opponents that her legacy would not unduly sway her politics.

Keeping with the general trend of women executives in Asia, Yingluck Shinawatra rose

to power possessing a family relation to a male previously in politics. That relation was to her

brother , who had been the Prime Minister of Thailand from 2001 to 2006.

His legacy was, to put it mildly, quite controversial, since although he had led Thailand to new levels of prosperity, he had also instituted contentious hardline policies on crimes, on public protests, and on the violent conflict in the country’s predominantly-Muslim south. After months

of growing unrest, Thaksin was finally ousted by the Thai military through a bloodless coup that

banned his and prompted the prime minister to flee— any return hindered by a newly-delivered imprisonment sentence. Such an abrupt end to his reign left several lingering questions, but also a continued staunch support from his rural and working class base.

To increase the latent worry even further, Yingluck possessed no prior political experience— a trait she shares with only a few women executives in Asia and none of my other case studies. Indeed, while her father was a member of parliament, her brother a prime minister, and her sister a mayor of a bustling city (other siblings had also been in parliament), Yingluck had never ran for office nor held a government post. Instead, she had overseen the family’s businesses, first as a managing director and second as an executive president (BBC 2017). To be

35 fair, her experiences in these leading positions can be deemed somewhat political, and Yingluck does possess a bachelor’s degree in political science as well as a master’s degree in public administration. Regarding institutions, however, Yingluck was a definite newcomer.

Given that these traits could be manipulated by the ruling Democrats and their leader

(and current prime minister) , Yingluck worked throughout her campaign to control these liabilities and to turn them into assets. Yingluck thus made certain to use her family connection to appeal to the rural farmers, workers, and northern Thais— a large base (around

60% of the electorate) that still adored her brother — repeatedly asking them: “If you love my brother, will you give his younger sister a chance?” (Branigan 2011). But at the same time,

Yingluck was careful to limit her affiliation to Thaksin, since such a connection could lose certain voters as well as aggravate the Thai military. Thus, while Yingluck was initially eager to promise amnesty for her brother, she later backtracked on that promise, claiming instead that a neutral panel would look into the matter, and that her party would strive to serve everyone. Such caution was certainly needed, especially considering the public’s growing puppet-candidate concerns only exacerbated by Thaksin’s description of her as his “clone” (a description she later clarified as “the same logical thinking....I understand how he thinks”) (Higgins 2011).

Her high-level business experience, too, was a personal quality Yingluck was keen to stress, particularly by framing it — along with her family connection to so many previous political figures — as a rich source of quasi-political experience, one that was particularly needed given Thailand’s shaky and gradually-declining economic situation. In her campaign rallies Yingluck would reference her business background quickly after introducing her name and her standing as Thakin’s younger sister, thereafter noting that her political experience consisted of managing family affairs and watching and learning from her brother. Similarly, in

36 one of her first press interviews, Yingluck would answer the question on her lack of experience as only a lack of “official” experience; “most of the people in my family are politicians...so in terms of understanding politics I’ve had that since I was young” (Fredrickson 2011). She then drew on her business experience as a way of neatly transitioning into Thailand’s current declining situation, stating that Thailand “needs people to manage and deliver policies to enhance the wealth of the country. So I think at this time the country needs that skill. So that’s why I’ve proposed myself” (Ibid 2011). In press conferences, she would repeat these arguments, claiming that her work experience is “not far removed from politics”, and that her upbringing has led her to a moment for which she is adequately prepared (Ratchaprasong News 2011).

Evidently, Yingluck demonstrated clear plans and consistent strategies to shift these uncertain and potentially-damaging background traits into foregrounded political strengths. She showed ways of framing her political family dynasty — even if controversial — to leverage more authority, particularly by persuading her brother’s large leftover supporters through an assertion of a continued legacy, and by positioning that family relation (along with her business management) as a rich source of experience now applicable to Thailand’s situation. At the same time, Yingluck was careful to limit the policy implications of her family connection— a smart tactic considering the recent political involvement of the Thai military as well as other voters less enamored of Thaksin. Such astute management by Yingluck on these issues thus placed her in a more advantageous position than one would initially expect, resulting thereafter in a boost to her candidacy, as well as to her political skill as an explanatory factor for her success.

Campaign Policies and Rhetoric

During the campaign Yingluck issued short speeches and interviews that promised alluring populist policies couched in a prescient rhetoric of national reconciliation. Moreover,

37 since these policies and themes were already widely used by several politicians during the

campaign, Yingluck endeavored to set herself both as a distinct and as a particularly well-suited politician by referencing her connection to a previous populist figure in Thaksin, as well as by tying in the qualities of cooperation she stressed were afforded to her by her gender.

Oftentimes, Yingluck was eager to promise a slew of populist policies, including wage hikes for laborers, free tablets for children, and an even higher increase of cheap loans to Thai villagers. She also guaranteed ten more elevated train lines, new credit cards for farmers, universal medical care, and, perhaps most ambitiously, to wall off part of the Gulf of Thailand in order to expand ’s city limits (Winn 2011). When questioned further on how she would achieve these idealistic and fantastical promises, Yingluck remained vague and ambiguous, answering that she would “take action” or “create a strategy” (Frederickson 2011). Many experts were thus quick to expose the unassailable costs of these policies, pointing thereafter to

Yingluck’s political inexperience as the source of this folly (Thaugsuban 2011). I argue, however, that such critique largely missed the point; after all, Yingluck possessed extensive business experience, and would be no stranger to matching budgets with costs if she so desired.

Instead, I sense that Yingluck and her camp knowingly pushed fantastic policies not to demonstrate economic sensibility, but rather to first appeal to a wide range of the Thai electorate, and second to harken back to Thaksin’s own persona and campaign, as he too had pursued and installed a variety of populist measures (Baker 2011). Yingluck’s other unattainable policies of eradicating all of Thailand’s drugs in twelve months or of eliminating all of Thailand’s poverty within four years are thus bred from a similar goal, one that endeavors to attract voters by way of appeal while also to ensure her legitimacy by way of referencing her dynasty.

38 In addition to these measures, Yingluck couched her speeches, interviews, and rallies in a patriotic rhetoric that focused on a (new) move towards national reunification. Throughout the campaign, her stated primary goal was “national reconciliation”— a particularly prescient theme given Thailand’s recent history of political turmoil and polarized, civil-war-esque violence (see

Chapter 2). As part of this narrative, Yingluck stressed how the country “needs reconciliation” and “needs people who can coordinate”, that she wants to work with others “to solve the country’s problems” (Frederickson 2011). Expanding on her theme, she promised to revitalize the country’s Independent Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and to set up a new body that would look at ways of retroactively enforcing justice. She stayed careful again, however, to not aggravate the Thai military (who had led the crackdowns) through her aforementioned ambiguous language as well as through rumored informal agreements (Banyan 2011).

Of course, Yingluck was not the only candidate promoting such rhetoric; her opponent, the incumbent Abhisit Vejjajiva, also voiced a similar theme of reunification, which again would be persuasive given Thailand’s recent turbulent history. How Yingluck set herself apart, then, was her frequent use of allying that now-familiar reunification message to her politically- unfamiliar gender, particularly by highlighting her feminine attributes and then by framing those attributes as especially applicable to the country’s current situation. At her candidacy announcement Yingluck claimed that she would “utilize her femininity to work fully for our country”, later clarifying that she would “use her femininity in this situation to talk and have a two-way dialogue with any others so as to make sure the country moves forward towards peace”

(Frederickson 2011). As the questions and even criticisms on these statements grew, Yingluck remained firm and unwavering, claiming “I will repeat again that females are the symbols of nonviolence...Another thing I would say is that a female is more compromising. A female can

39 talk with anyone easily” (Kaewmala 2011). By promoting these gender stereotypes and then by

framing them within a politically-beneficial mold, Yingluck endeavored to demonstrate that she,

simply by virtue of her gender, was a candidate who inherently possessed the cooperative and

collaborative qualities needed to lead a recently-polarized Thailand on its newly-unifying course.

By doing so, Yingluck could at the same time inadvertently imply that these were qualities that

her opponents either did not possess or could not possess to the same nationally-beneficial degree, simply because all of those opponents were men.

Altogether, Yingluck’s rhetorical techniques of blending powerful and topical national themes with gender stereotypes, allied to her projection of populist and at the same time subtly- allusory policies, point to a candidate deeply committed to placing Yingluck’s personal characteristics in conjunction with the national and political situation. In doing so, Yingluck could set herself as both apart and distinct from her opponents— an apartness and distinctness

that was then framed by Yingluck as particularly applicable given Thailand’s turbulent situation,

and as particularly desirable given Thailand’s future reconciliatory course. Thus, Yingluck’s

careful navigation of certain controversial topics, her frequent use of appealing (albeit vague)

populist measures, and her heavy rhetorical emphasis of pertinent national themes reinforced by

her gender, all combine to provide another bolstering effect on her candidacy, one that could

only further strengthen and empower her bid for Thailand’s executive office.

Gender in the Campaign

Already a feature of Yingluck’s policies and rhetoric, her publicly-perceived gender also

became a source of restraint (and attack) for her opponents as well as a fount of fascination and influence for the Thai media. The treatment of her gender by these other prominent political actors would thus further reinforce Yingluck’s rhetoric and candidacy, particularly by nullifying

40 the potential criticisms against her, as well as by instilling frequently positive (and primarily

physical) perceptions of Yingluck within the larger spheres of Thai politics and Thai society.

For her main political opponents during the campaign (Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva

and his incumbent Democrat Party), Yingluck’s gender first operated as a factor that restricted

their criticisms as well as stunted their procedures, and later as a factor that influenced much-

needed shifts in their strategies. Initially, both the prime minister and his organization were

caught off guard by Yingluck’s unexpected surge in the polls, chalking it up to the boost that

follows new candidates (Frederickson 2011). As Yingluck grew in popularity, however, the

Democrats had to find new reasons for her ascendancy (and soon-to-be supremacy), one of

which was Yingluck’s apparent gender. A Democrat MP, for example, argued that Yingluck’s

femininity was “her strong point” since it had put his party on the defensive as they could neither

touch her gender nor turn it into a weakness (Branigan 2011). Others claimed that Yingluck’s

extreme politeness derived from her femininity had frustrated the party, since they did not want

to appear overly brutish when criticizing her inexperience (Kaewmala 2011). While these

comments may initially (and correctly) seem to reveal the power of Yingluck’s perceived gender,

they are also subtle forms of political attacks, in that opponents are claiming that the female

candidate’s apparent gender puts her on a field incapable of competing head-to-head.

Furthermore, the Democrat’s growing loss in popularity eventually prompted a shift in

their tactics from a rhetoric stressing national reconciliation to one attempting to expose

Yingluck as a puppet candidate— a tactic that in turn hoped to move gender politics towards a

Democrat advantage by heightening the already-present conception of female politicians as products of their male family figures (Iwanaga 2008). At the same time, the Democrats began urging a debate between the candidates, hoping that their Oxford-educated leader could outshine

41 and expose a policy-ambiguous Yingluck. Both moves, however, came a little too late, and

Yingluck, for her part, had already responded to concerns she was a puppet candidate (Boonyai

2011), while also wisely removing any potential of a debate. Her gendered public image thus

remained for her a positive trait, one that had precluded her opponents from certain strategies,

and had now forced them into adopting various new paths without any real conviction.

The Thai media, too, crafted a subtly double-edged view of Yingluck’s gender first by

reinforcing her position as Thailand’s potentially first woman executive, and second by

highlighting her physical beauty in ways that could boost her image but also trivialize her

politics. For example, in one of Yingluck’s first interviews, The Bangkok Post described her as

“the first serious prime ministerial candidate that is a female in Thailand”, thereafter questioning her on whether the country is ready for “a female prime minister”. In another article, the same paper would wax poetic about Yingluck’s hairstyle, describing how “that side part perfectly grazes your ear like a young lamb gently skipping over a meadow” (Fuller 2011). Another outlet,

The Mango Juice, repeats the same kind of language, with one of its articles described by its author as a quest “to find out some background to the 44-year-old businesswoman who is bidding to become Thailand’s first ever female prime minister”. From there, the same author would elaborately describe Yingluck’s “charismatic style and good looks”, as well as the

“beautifully and elegantly manicured promotion” of Thaksin’s younger sister (Martyn 2011). In the global media, we see the same emphasis on Yingluck’s potential as the country’s first female executive, and the connection of that potential to Yingluck’s physical characteristics. Writing for

The Economist, the Banyan team titled Thailand’s election as “Too hot for the generals”, with one author noting how Pheu Thai also owes its success to the “beauty” of “Thaksin’s younger sister”. Al Jazeera, too, provided frequent descriptions of Yingluck as “Thailand’s first female

42 prime minister”, thereafter claiming that “Yingluck’s feminine charms appeared to work well”,

or that “she’s getting a bounce from the excitement over the idea of Thailand having a woman

prime minister, and the novelty of a fairly young, attractive candidate” (Al Jazeera 2011).

Of course, the narrative of a first woman candidate becoming the country’s first woman

executive is in many situations unavoidable, but that still results in a heightening of gender in the

buildup to that country’s elections. In this specific case of Thailand we also see the national and

international media partly associating that unavoidable narrative to a consistent, positive

description of Yingluck’s looks, one that in turn re-emphasizes her gender and highlights its physicality, all while framing it within a beneficial political mold. Regarding, then, my focus of gender in the campaign, these actions by the media not only heightened Yingluck’s gender but also contributed to its positive (albeit now largely physical) associations to her politics, resulting thereafter in a boost to her campaign and a strengthening of her candidacy. Consider as well the

restrictive effects of gendered perceptions of her candidacy on the actions of her opponents, and I

arrive at a concluding description of Yingluck’s gender performance as a largely positive factor,

one that would boost her already gendered rhetoric, and, by extension, her emergence.

43 Candidate Image

Given this heightened focus on her appearance, Yingluck worked to craft an image of herself that was both comfortably familiar and pleasingly fresh, which she accomplished through campaign pieces (posters) and moments (rallies). These images were then re-projected in Thai

society through her various operations as well as her active public presence, which, together with

national media outlets, reinforced Yingluck’s image as both a recognizable and refreshing

politician, as a new but at the same time familiar candidate.

We begin with her campaign posters, the two most common examples pictured below:

In both instances, Yingluck smiles into the camera, her shoulders slightly opened up and

turned to the side in what I describe as a familiar pageant pose (Yingluck had competed in

beauty pageants while as a student in university) (Fuller 2011). For both images, she wears a

usual black business suit with a collared shirt underneath, the collar either slightly opened or

opened to the point of falling over the lapel— but never firmly fixed or buttoned. Somewhat

similarly, her hair (a trait the media often highlighted and described) is loose and long-hanging,

44 with her gradual curls slowly falling onto and over her shoulders. As for the text, the top of the first poster (from the left) and bottom of the second poster both state her party (“Pheu Thai” or

“For Thais”) in Thai script, with the second poster also attaching her ballot number (“1”). In both images, her name “Yingluck Shinawatra” is found under her right shoulder, interestingly with the first name as the larger, bolder text while the smaller family name lies underneath. The slogan “Ready to serve the Thai people” then completes the first poster, its white presence intensely emblazoned by the red background.

As a whole, the posters provide a layered image that consists of a familiar feel through the use of well-known colors and slogans, but also with an unmistakable newness through both

Yingluck’s dress and appearance. Besides the gray backdrop, the primary colors here are blue, red, and white— colors that together form the Thai national flag, and, in the case of red, allude to

Thaksin’s old party and remaining Red Shirt supporters. The text, too, does not provide any original meaning, and instead reminds one of the usual messages issued by Thai politicians (see

Appendix). Moving to Yingluck herself, however, one receives several new and interesting elements through her unusual attire and appearance. When compared to the other suit-and-tie candidates, Yingluck appears a little more cool and comfortable, her look a mixture of relaxed and professional. The hair only adds further to this simplified but still serious feel, again in contrast to the predominantly clipped and trimmed styles of Thai politicians and their spouses

(Baker 2011). When these relatively unique traits of Yingluck are combined with the other more common features of her poster, it produces an image of Yingluck as both new on the scene and as familiar to the scene; she is a candidate who is both clearly professional and personal.

Such a mixture was largely emblematic of Yingluck’s image throughout her campaign— an image that was put on vivid display at her mass rallies and public events:

45

These occasions usually began with a host of opening speakers stirring the crowd before

Yingluck’s appearance. When it was finally her turn to speak, Yingluck would first flash a bright smile and stretch out her arm and finger in an iconic Number 1 pose, surrounded by a flash of clicking cameras and a roar of thunderous applause. As the crowd eventually died down,

Yingluck would begin the main event, which would either be a short speech packed with populist slogans, or a special activity such as a Pad Thai cooking show or a countryside train ride. After this main event, Yingluck would then move from her platform, her vehicle, or her podium to the gathered crowd, usually for more interactive moments. Stepping down into the masses, Yingluck would typically receive red roses, garlands of flowers, and outstretched hands, frequently posing for pictures with locals (while mostly accompanied by her nine year old son). After several photo sessions, Yingluck would issue a final polite wai; her rally had come to an end.

Together, these practices reinforced the image of Yingluck as both a professional and personal candidate, as a familiar but also new Thai politician. None of these events were exactly unprecedented; her brother, and others after him, had issued the same kinds of rallies with the same kinds of activities (Baker 2011). Yingluck was thus behaving as one would expect a

46 candidate to in Thailand, even with regards to her intimate crowd interaction and the objects that the crowd would offer. Nevertheless, I believe Yingluck was able to project a slight but unmistakable newness, due mainly to her gender performance. That is, unlike her predecessors and competitors, Yingluck was seen by the public as performing these activities as a woman, and so would experience the added connotations of being more warm, more personal, and even more familial (Iwanaga 2008). Similarly, Yingluck’s deliberate wardrobe choices (a wide-brim straw hat in Thailand’s rice fields; a hijab in the Muslim south) could in turn project a stronger regional association not as accessible for men (see Appendix). Yingluck’s image thus became decidedly more earnest and vibrant— a pleasing freshness amidst a comforting familiarity.

To conclude, when viewing how Yingluck and her team crafted her campaign pieces and moments, I arrive at an overall layered image of Yingluck as a newer kind of candidate successfully operating within an older framing of Thai politicians. Through posters and rallies

Yingluck endeavored to project an image of herself as a competent and professional candidate, one who could be both mature and measured when dealing with politics. At the same time,

Yingluck strove to frame herself as a new kind of politician by showing more comfort and more simplicity as well as (due to public perceptions of her gender) providing more openness and familiarity. Such an image then not only set her apart from opponents, but also worked towards furthering the reconciliation rhetoric— all of which could only strengthen her candidacy.

Conclusion

To summarize, Yingluck possessed certain characteristics and pursued several activities that in turn helped bolster her candidacy and improve her chances for victory. Her family background and business experience was used by Yingluck to draw in her brother’s supporters as well as to diffuse worries of political ignorance, but not to the point where the dynasty may have

47 aggravated powerful opponents and ostracized certain voters. Yingluck’s populist policies and

nationalist-rhetoric then appealed to a wide variety of the Thai electorate, first by considering and second by addressing the recent history of a violent, polarized kingdom. Finally, Yingluck’s fresh and familiar image as well as the heightened significance of her gender — heightened here by the Thai media, Yingluck’s political opponents, and even Yingluck herself — set her apart from the other candidates, and framed her within a more positive, more personal, and perhaps even more sincere, kind of political mold. As a result of these factors, we find a more contextualized and specific explanation for Yingluck’s emergence, one that not only builds upon the underlying advantages afforded to her by her country’s structural factors, but also addresses some of the obstacles erected against her by the country’s cultural circumstances. In a larger framework, then, Yingluck and Thailand urge us to consider the incorporation of candidate and campaign specific factors when explaining the emergence of female executives— a conclusion that we will now explore in South Korea and its election of Park Geun-hye.

48 Park Geun-hye in South Korea: Rise of the Election Queen

Just over a year later in December of 2012, Thailand’s first female executive would

attend the inauguration of South Korea’s own first female president: the recently-victorious Park

Geun-hye. Unlike Yingluck, however, Park was both an expected and experienced candidate: she

had served in established Korean politics for close to twenty years, and was not only the current

head of her party but also a famously-successful election campaigner. Nevertheless, Park’s road

(back) to the Blue House was no easy journey; indeed, the election was a rather close race with

several dips and surges, one that finally culminated in Park’s narrow win of 51 to 48 percent of

the vote (Chosun Ilbo 2012). Her close victory (and recent dramatic fall from grace) offers many

an intriguing question: how had Park managed to just edge out her opponents in 2012?

Again, turning to the literature’s framework we receive an insufficient explanation: while

South Korea’s democracy could offer Park a higher level of political opportunity, the country’s

direct-voting systems, dearth of female politicians, mixed-bag of gender attitudes, and lack of

political openings would be expected to inhibit — not aid — the rise of a first female executive.

Using, then, my set of candidate-specific factors, I reveal additional reasons as to why Park came to power when she did, thereby providing a more robust and contextualized explanation for the emergence of a female leader. To be more specific, I find that Park drew on her extensive experience to address her controversial dynasty, thereafter pursuing centrist policies and a new age rhetoric in order to appeal to the electorate, to sever damaging ties to the unpopular incumbent, and to pivot towards a more inclusive position. Tying in, then, the heightened and politicized perception of her gender, as well as the shifts and consistencies in her campaign image, and I see once again a campaign strengthened by the candidate for her success.

49 Family Background and Political Experience

Similar to Yingluck in Thailand, Park entered South Korea’s 2012 elections as the

recipient of a controversial political dynasty, one that made her well-known but not necessarily

well-placed. Nevertheless, by using her extensive and prolific political experience, Park worked

throughout her campaign to portray herself as not only understanding, respecting, and even

appreciating her troubled past, but also as having learned from, and willing to move from, that

past in order to push South Korea politically and ideologically forward.

As with most women leaders in Asia (not to mention my previous study of Yingluck),

Park rose to power possessing a family relation to a male previously in politics. That relation was

to Park Chung-hee, the president of South Korea from 1963 to 1979. His legacy was in many

ways a nationally-uncomfortable topic, since although he had produced high economic growth

and development (to the point where many consider him as one of the country’s most

transformative leaders), he had on his way to achieve those goals established a strict and

oppressive authoritarian system (Chapman 1979). Indeed, when in power the general turned

president had instituted martial law, rewritten the constitution, tortured homeless people, and

imprisoned his critics— all while suffocating the country’s previously-budding democracy

(Ibid). Perhaps as a result, then, Park Chung-hee experienced several assassination attempts, the

first of which inadvertently killed his wife, the second of which ended his life and reign.

As this figure’s eldest child, Park Geun-hye underwent a highly political upbringing, and perhaps therefore a later career in politics. At the time her mother was murdered Park became

South Korea’s de-facto First Lady— a position that only lasted five years, or until the death of her father. From there, Park determinedly and somewhat paradoxically worked her way back into politics, winning by-elections in 1998 to become her hometown’s assemblywoman. Park would

50 continue to hold that position for the next ten years, a time period that saw her also elected as

head of the Grand National Party (GNP), and attacked by a knife-wielding ex-convict. Again, despite a personally-scarring setback, Park persisted in politics now by steadying her then-ailing party, and moreover by leading them to unexpected electoral victories. Such conquests only added to Park’s already-prolific political career, one that in its longevity and success had earned her a reputation for being an effective leader, and a telling nickname of ‘The Election Queen’.

Park then drew on this lifetime experience during her 2012 presidential campaign to navigate through the growing concerns surrounding her undemocratic legacy. At first, Park was

in a rather precarious position since she could neither discard her father’s legacy nor embrace it,

due in part to the complicated makeup of the Korean electorate. On the one hand, several of

Park’s older, more conservative voters (around 40% of the electorate and the majority of her party’s support) still attributed the country’s modern progress to her father’s rule, and would thus support the familial association and look down upon any attempted dissociation (Chosun Ilbo

2012). On the other hand, the remaining voters saw her father’s legacy as authoritarian baggage, one that Park should not only address but even apologize for in consideration of those who had suffered (Ibid). As a result of these factors (not to mention her own personal motivations) Park

initially pursued a gray-area non-apology, stating: “I have said many times that I was very sorry

to those who had suffered, and that I send them my words of consolation”; or that there are “two

verdicts” on her father, and that her father should be “judged by history” (Lee 2012). At the same

time, Park would cleverly begin her much publicized “Unity Tour” — a campaign visit of

several of South Korea’s previous progressive leaders, some of whom had opposed her father.

Unfortunately for her, however, the non-apologies had failed to stop both a slide in the

polls and a rising demand for a clear statement, resulting in Park’s timely switch towards a more

51 sincere apology and an enhanced demonstration of her desire to move on. Holding muted press conferences, and somber remembrance activities, Park would mount the podium and speak slowly and measuredly through bloodshot eyes and muffled tears. She claimed: “I deeply apologize to all those who were hurt and the family members of victims of government abuse”, and that “I want to return the accomplishments achieved in my father’s era to the people, and bear the pain and scars caused during the period” (Lee 2012). In turn, Park would also stress the democratic value of “how a purpose cannot justify the means in politics”, and that “it is now time to let my father go...so as to transform the country and allow it to enter a new path” (KT 2012).

Park could thus indicate that she was mature enough to learn from her father and to prioritize the nation's democracy, all while projecting a continued respect to her father’s political legacy.

Thus, while Park’s experience had already earned her a positive reputation and a penchant for electoral politics, her dark family history had erected a precarious campaign topic that required a careful amount of maneuvering. With her first sidestepping strategies lacking success, Park then demonstrated the awareness and ability to not only recognize her deteriorating situation, but to fix that situation through the use of explicit and emotional apologies as well as through public reconciliatory activities. By doing so, Park could powerfully present herself as both a changed and adapted candidate, one who had thought long and painfully so as to develop the wisdom to leave the past behind in order to touchingly move the nation forward. Altogether, then, Park drew on her prolific experience to shift her dynasty towards less damaging positions, revealing in turn a kind of political acumen that would go on to empower her candidacy.

Campaign Policies and Rhetoric

In accordance with the shift in the treatment of her dynasty, Park also demonstrated a shift in her policy as a way of enticing more voters while also distancing herself from the largely

52 unpopular (but conservative) incumbent. To reinforce this move, Park couched her messages in a rhetoric of a new era, one that was particularly salient given the national context. Finally, since her messages started mirroring those of others, Park used the public perception of her gender to set herself as both distinct and suitable, all while undermining her opponents.

Throughout the campaign, Park promoted a mixture of economic and social policies that

together moved her and her conservative party towards a (more inclusive) centrist position while

still appeasing and placating her more right-leaning base. To start, Park eagerly voiced plans to

cut tuition fees and reduce private education costs, pledging as well to install more welfare

programs and more comprehensive social safety measures (Kim 2012). At the same time, Park

guaranteed increased market competition and more privatization, issuing policies she promised

would spur economic growth and promote innovation (Ibid). Similarly, and perhaps

emblematically, Park often toyed with the idea of restricting South Korea’s infamous chaebols,

but without ever offering a specific policy due in part to their strong presence within her party

(Chung 2012a). In a larger sense, this stew of policies— later termed “Parkonomics” — could in

their variety appeal to a wide range of the electorate, including those who usually voted conservative (e.g. older South Koreans), those who did not usually vote conservative (e.g. South

Korean students), and those who were middle-aged and middle-class swing voters.

More importantly, Park’s policies also worked to distance herself and her party from the

(similarly) conservative incumbent Lee Myung-bak, who at the time of the elections sat a favorability rating of just thirty percent (DW 2012). This distancing was particularly evident when it came to Park’s proposed carrot and stick policy towards North Korea— a stark contrast to the conservatives’ usual hardline approach. Indeed, Park was willing to converse and negotiate with the Kim Jong-il regime in order to rebuild cross-border trust and cooperation, promising as

53 well that any transgressions would be met with a swift and decisive response (Chung 2012b).

Conversely, the previous administration had always pursued a strict no-nonsense policy— a policy that had led to stifled dialogue as well as several North Korean missile tests.

To further emphasize that difference, Park employed a rhetoric that stressed themes of change and newness, as demonstrated brilliantly by her slogan: “Let’s break away from the past, and move toward the future” (Jun 2012a). Within that narrative Park emphasized a drive to forge national togetherness, stressing how she would “strive for unity rather than division, and the future rather than the past” (Ibid). Such a message was both needed and expected given the aforementioned incumbent (as well as her familial legacy), but also when considering the South

Korea’s growing wealth-based inequalities and escalating tensions with North Korea. Park thus made sure to couch her economic policies in a similarly futuristic language, framing her

“economic democratization” as a “new economic growth paradigm”, one that was capable of

“directing South Korea’s future economy” (Ibid). Finally, to establish that she could still be seen as a conservative candidate despite her rather unconservative language, Park would describe herself as “a pioneer of a new branch of conservatism”, an old figure using parts of an old ideology in a way that could move the country towards “a new era of hope” (Bae 2012b).

Unsurprisingly, as Park’s messages started trending towards the more-inclusive center, she began mirroring the messages of other presidential candidates including her main opponent

Moon Jae-in, and the rapidly-rising progressive, Ahn Cheol-soo (Ibid). To set herself apart, then,

Park (like Yingluck) began highlighting and politicizing her gender, using slogans such as

“Prepared Woman President”, and disseminating claims that women are more honest and reconciliatory (Bae 2012a). Such a claim was then particularly apt considering the context: her dark legacy, the North Korea conflict, and the many examples of corrupt (male) officials. From

54 there, Park worked to tie in that now heightened perception of her gender to her rhetoric,

claiming for instance that “the first female president would be the nation’s biggest reform”, or

that current Korea mandates “a motherly leader ready to sacrifice all for the sake of her people”

(an action one might see Park as having already accomplished through the loss of her family)

(Kang 2012a). In doing so, Park could inadvertently undermine the more progressive positions of

her left-leaning opponents — and in turn strengthen her own appeal — stating, for example: “All

speak of change and renewal, but nothing is more innovative than a female head of state” (Ibid).

In sum, Park’s policies generally moved her and her party from a more exclusive and

somewhat unpopular conservative position to a more inclusive and thus more popular central

position. To further that message, Park made sure to couch her policies in a rhetoric of national

change and newness— a message that not only further distanced her from the unpopular

incumbent, but also appealed to South Korean voters eager for change. At the same time, Park

made sure to still appease her main right-leaning bloc, either by continuing to define herself as a conservative candidate or by presenting policies favorable to conservative groups. In this resultant centrist position, Park heightened and politicized the perception of her gender to differentiate her candidacy and to mark herself as especially suitable. Park’s policies and rhetoric thus worked to enlarge and solidify her appeal, thereby strengthening her chances for success.

Gender in the Campaign

A feature already present in her rhetoric, Park’s gender — or more accurately the social

perception of Park as a woman — became a trait targeted by other Korean politicians as well as

by several notable Korean citizens, most strikingly through critiques on Park’s supposedly

inadequate performances of a stereotypical kind of femininity. The Korean media also added to

55 this simultaneous heightening and politicization of Park’s gender, but through a different scope

that analyzed physical appearance, and discussed the overall effect of gender.

As we shall see with Tsai Ing-wen in Taiwan, Park experienced several attacks on her candidacy through various gender-based critiques. There were, of course, the usual concerns about the political fit of a female leader, with one Korean official claiming that it was “too early for a female president” (Lee 2017). More predominant were the two camps of specific gender- performance critiques, the first of which concerned Park’s social gender performance, and stemmed from her lack of a spouse or of a child. Opposing DUP spokesman Jung Sung-ho would

thus describe Park as “a woman only in the biological sense”— a claim later echoed by both an

established professor who stated that Park “is a woman only in terms of genitals”, and by a TV

spokesman who asserted that Park’s lack of an immediate family precluded her from being

categorized as a woman (Yu 2012). The second critique concerned Park’s political gender

performance, and questioned her ability to represent women given what opponents claimed was a

historic lack of feminism. The DUP would explain for instance how Park “ has not represented

the best interests of women”, and as a result “did not deserve” to lead her gendered campaign,

while a chief strategist for another candidate would voice similar concerns, speculating “if Park deserves the title of a female candidate who cares for female voters” (Kang 2012b).

In response, Park pursued a clever twofold strategy of exposing the latent sexism behind the first set of critiques, while also promising women-friendly policies framed in a feminist kind of language to address the second camp of concerns. First, upon hearing claims that being a woman rendered her unfit for the executive office, Park questioned how such perspectives “could still be around in the twenty-first century” — a description that cleverly utilized the election’s rampant new age theme (Yu 2012). Then, in response to the criticisms borne from her lack of an

56 immediate family, Park pursued a different but still persuasive strategy through weaving together

the familial, national, and personal: “I have no family to take care of...I have no child to inherit

my properties. You, the people, are my only family, and to make you happy is the reason I do

politics” (Choe 2012). Since such messages could not, however answer the other criticism of a

lack of politically-demonstrated feminism, Park made sure to promise new policies focused on

improving the lives of women while also harkening back to her own experience of elevating

women, thereafter couching these claims within a more feminist language, stating: “I will end

discrimination against women and help women break the glass ceiling” (Kang 2012c).

Meanwhile, the national media were adding to both this heightening and politicization of

Park’s gender but through a different focus on her appearance. As in Thailand, there was an avid

discussion on Park’s hair, in particular the way in which it was “her most signature look”, one

that was “reminiscent of the 1960s and her mother and former first lady Yook Young-soo” (Lee

2012b). Journalists would also frequently comment on Park’s outfits, whether it be her lack of skirts, or her student-event jeans and t-shirt that quickly made national headlines (Park 2012).

Interestingly, there were even suggestions by the media for changes in Park’s (and other candidates’) fashion styles, framed in a way that could positively impact the candidate’s image and overall public perception (Lee 2012c). For Park, the usual advice was to project a more vibrant and appealing image, either by cutting her hair short, “wearing a small necklace or patterned clothing”, highlighting the scar on her chin, or even by “showing some leg” (Oh 2012).

At the same time, local outlets would also discuss the political implications of Park’s gender, but always with varying interpretations. For example, a piece in The Chosun Ilbo would claim that “gender is irrelevant in choosing the next president”, while an article in The Korea

Times would pose the question of: “is Korea ready for a woman president?” Similarly, news

57 outlets would note how Park had accented the role of a woman president (Yi 2012b), how Park’s

women pitch had sparked rancor (Bae 2012a), how that woman pitch had not succeeded (Kim

2012b), or how woman power was not only evident but also strong, and especially so during

debates (Yi 2012a). The overall media presentation of gender was thus of a mixed and varied

kind, but one that in its focus further heightened and politicized Park’s already-emphasized

gender, but now with an additional focus on her physical appearance.

Once again, then, the potential of a first woman executive (and the gendered rhetoric of

that first woman executive) prompted several gender-related responses in other political actors.

In this case, Park experienced several gender-based critiques, in particular over her apparently inadequate social and political gender performances. She responded, however, with a clever strategy, one that not only addressed her feminist shortcomings but also exposed and overturned

sexist arguments. Throughout all of this activity, the local media would further heighten and

politicize Park’s perceived gender, most notably by emphasizing its physicality and by

speculating on its relevance. Overall, then, I conclude that Park’s gender was treated by other

political actors as a slightly negative factor, one that demanded strategic and careful reactions.

Candidate Image

Given this media spotlight on the candidates’ appearance, style, and even demeanor, Park

worked to produce a transformed image of herself and her party through campaign posters, public activities, and a heightened social media presence. That image endeavored to change Park from the stereotype of a cold and privileged politician (tied to an unpopular incumbent) to a less-

boring, and far more engaging candidate capable of projecting vibrancy and embracing

modernity— thereby demonstrating a new and far more appealing conservative.

I start again with the main campaign poster, juxtaposed with an image of Park’s mother:

58

As seen above, Park is opened up to the camera, her shoulders and smile directly facing

the viewer. She is wearing a dark red suitcoat, with the collar comfortably opened to the point of

providing just a small glimpse of jewelry. Her hair — compared so frequently by the national

media to her mother’s — is admittedly of a similar style: a mostly neat updo, with a more

relaxed and slowly-cascading front fringe. In terms of the text, the large bottom line is her name:

“Park Geun-hye” with the last name coming first in line with the conventional style. Above it,

we read the aforementioned campaign slogan: “(The) Prepared Female President” as well as her

ballot number (“1”), its red print emphasized by a surrounding white bubble. Finally, in the top

right corner we view a facial emoji that both reemphasizes and sloganizes Park’s name, while in

the bottom right corner we notice two smartphone QR codes placed snugly together.

Altogether, the poster provides a blended image that through its colors and elements offers an unmistakable sense of change and modernity, while through its central figure still indicates a professional familiarity. In addition to the white text and gray background, the

59 primary color here is red— a color that had never been used in South Korean campaigns due to

its possible communist connotations. Nevertheless, Park and her party chose to adopt such a

color — along with a new party name (from GNP to Saenuri) — in what I view as yet another

attempt to demonstrate their distance from the unpopular incumbent, as well to indicate their new

electoral position. Her gendered slogan adds to that reformed message, and bolsters further the

move to modernity already subtly symbolized by the QR codes and facial emojis. Furthermore,

in comparison to the other more formally-dressed male candidates, Park’s attire is notably more

relaxed and comfortable, once again reinforcing her uniqueness while also offering the viewer

with a more open and human candidate. At the same time, the image works to present a certain amount of familiarity through both its experienced central figure as well as through the hair of that central figure, which in its style does remind one of her familial legacy (see Appendix).

Added, then, to the fresh colors, gendered slogans, and social media elements, these aspects create an image that is both new and old, strikingly distinct and pleasingly recognizable.

To build on this presentation, Park performed several public activities designed to move her from the disparaging nicknames of Ice Princess or Notebook Princess— nicknames that she had earned online as a result of her relatively privileged upbringing and rather studious persona

(Kim 2016). Park aimed to tackle these negative perspectives through an increased display of appearing more candid, which she managed by attending talk shows to share personal stories, as well as by opening her public speeches with pleasant jokes or one-liners (sometimes of a self- deprecating kind) (Kang 2012d). Furthermore, Park aimed as well to address young voters (the majority of online users) by promising them tuition-related policies or by interacting with them through intimate panels and lectures. At these occasions Park would make sure to wear more casual clothes as well as to sit lower and closer to the audience— all of which served to project a

60 heightened kind of familiarity as well as an increased sense of approachability (Ibid). Such strategic changes and their purpose were evident in several other campaign activities, including

Park’s dancing to the viral pop song, “Gangnam Style” before and after her rallies:

In the meantime Park and her team would also work to increase her online presence— an avenue through which she could appeal to young voters and the increasingly-digital middle age

(and swing vote) demographic. Recognizing the potential of Social Networking Sites (SNS) such as Facebook, YouTube and Twitter, Park hired social media experts and management teams to fight against her reputation for a lack of communication, and to help transform her image to something more personal and more appealing (Songhoon 2012). As part of this strategy, Park’s profile on Twitter began bombarding her followers with messages on her policies or phrases of her rhetoric, while her Facebook became an avid public forum (Jung 2012). She would as well amass a large following (186,317 followers) on Kakaotalk— an instant messaging service that regularly published feeds from Park’s camp, all through a (once again gendered) slogan: “A first female president is the first step for change and renovation” (Jun 2012b).

61 Park’s multilayered campaign image would thus not only endeavor to present herself as

an unmistakably distinct but still familiar kind of candidate, but also as one who had (to a certain

demographic) transformed from the stereotype of a boring, uncommunicative and outdated politician to an active and decidedly-current kind of leader. To produce such a shift, Park first

issued posters that captured a new as well as an historic appeal, not to mention a striking kind of

(gendered) distinctness. From there, Park worked diligently to include more personal sides of her

character into her public activities, thereby projecting a heightened familiarity and an increased

sense of approachability. Finally, to capture even more voters by way of social media, Park grew

her SNS presence and carefully coordinated and aligned its messages. Overall, then, the strategic

changes around her campaign image shifted Park to a more advantageous position, one that in its

various shifts could both appeal to and address several key portions of the Korean electorate.

Conclusion

In sum, Park and her team pursued characteristics, methods, and activities to not only fit

and serve the Korean electorate but also to broaden her party’s appeal, thereby strengthening

Park’s candidacy and bolstering her chances for success. She first drew on her extensive

experience to navigate carefully around (but still pay respectful homage to) a controversial

family legacy, pivoting towards different platforms in response to the electoral climate. Her

policies and rhetoric followed a similar path; Park employed these aspects to shift herself and her

party towards a more centrist position, one that not only provided a more inclusive platform, but

also demonstrated change and distance from an unpopular incumbent. Simultaneously, Park

worked to align the perception of her gender to her campaign— a heightening and politicization

of gender that served to situate and differentiate Park, as well as to garner opponent and media

criticism. In response, Park again pursued astute strategies, remaining steadfast where applicable,

62 and flexible where required. Such a description would hold as well for Park’s campaign image;

she worked diligently to exhibit change in order to appease younger voters, while still keeping

the traits that appealed to her older, more conservative base (see Appendix). Once again, then,

we see a candidate diligently and strategically striving to improve her position— an insight that further urges the inclusion of the candidate into more contextual explanations for the emergence of female executives. We turn, then, to the final analysis of Taiwan.

63 Tsai Ing-wen in Taiwan: Shifting for the Second Chance

Three years after South Korea elected its first female president, and four years after

Thailand elected its first female prime minister, Taiwan would now also experience the rise of its

own first female leader through the 2016 election of Tsai Ing-wen. At the start of her candidacy, though, the public and party skepticism was palpable; Tsai was running a race she had lost once before: in 2012, to the current incumbent and the powerful Kuomintang Party. Nevertheless, as the campaign season progressed, Tsai always kept a strong lead in the polls (see Appendix),

ultimately resulting in her capture of close to 57% of the national vote (Bush 2012). The question

was obvious: how had Tsai won with such a large margin especially when considering her loss in

2012— had she changed anything from before, and, if so, with what political effects?

Using the literature’s explanatory framework, we arrive again at an insufficient answer.

Yes, Taiwan’s fair and free democracy, its high proportion of female politicians, and its

egalitarian gender attitudes may have supported and even promoted Tsai’s candidacy, but these

factors had existed as well in 2012 without providing Tsai with an election victory (see Chapter

2). By turning, then, to my proposed set of candidate-specific factors, I build on the existing

framework to provide a more robust explanation for why Tsai successfully emerged in 2016 and

not in 2012. More specifically, I demonstrate that Tsai not only adroitly responded to criticisms

related to her family, gender, and political performances, but that she also skillfully utilized her

experience to provide widely-appealing policies couched in a persuasively democratic rhetoric.

Furthermore, to overcome other barriers, Tsai persistently worked to transform her image from a

gray bureaucrat to a more personable and more conventionally-feminine candidate— traits that

once again indicate a campaign strengthened by the candidate for her success.

64 Family Background and Political Experience

Tsai came into elections as both a unique and common candidate in terms of Asian female executives: similar to many, Tsai had extensive political experience, but, unlike anyone else, she possessed no relation to a male previously in politics. Interestingly, both traits would surface during the campaign: her family’s business practices as an opponent avenue of attack; her experience as a public source of authority. For her part, Tsai responded to the former with compelling rebukes, and leveraged the latter to present her more than appropriate leadership.

In stark contrast to both Yingluck and Park, Tsai was not part of a political dynasty prior to achieving the country’s executive office. Instead, her parents had non-political occupations, with her father running a highly-successful automobile repair business while her mother helped him by cooking for the workers and looking after the children (Bland 2015). More politically- relevant is Tsai’s mixed ethnicity, with her father being Hakka (one of the island’s earlier migratory people groups), her mother being Taiwanese, and her grandmother coming from one of the non-Chinese indigenous peoples in Taiwan (BBC 2012). Such a homegrown, native background would in its occasional heightening help Tsai “connect to supporters” (a trait with which she reportedly struggled in 2012) (Ibid), as well as further authenticate her plan to first apologize to the island’s indigenous peoples, and second to revive the northern provinces’ Hakka culture through several supportive policies (Chia 2016). Regarding, though, a previous beneficial familial-political dynasty, Tsai possessed none.

Nevertheless, despite the lack of an established political family, Tsai possessed extensive and prolific political experience prior to her second bid for the country’s presidency. Educated abroad at Cornell Law School and the London School of Economics, Tsai’s first taste of institutional politics was in 1998 when she became a member of a WTO delegation that

65 negotiated terms of entry. After building her reputation as a level-headed technocrat, Tsai became a legislative minister in 2000, while still holding other duties including the WTO position (Rauhala 2015). Eight years later, Tsai emerged as the new chairman of the Democratic

Progressive Party (DPP) — a surprising development when considering Tsai’s (non-DPP) lack of early activism, not to mention her strong academic history. Moreover, at the time of Tsai’s appointment several of the DPP’s leaders were struggling with corruption scandals, and the party reputation was in a nosedive. Tsai then worked diligently to rebuild the party, reorienting it towards a more sustainable grassroots following and thus resuscitating its political fortunes.

Under Tsai’s leadership the DPP started winning key legislative elections in 2010 and again in

2012— but Tsai lost the presidential bid that same year, due to an apparent lack of approachability (Rauhala 2015), and a reported insufficient campaign funding (deLisle 2012).

Nevertheless, despite a deflating setback, Tsai (like Park) persisted in politics, now by addressing her flaws, and by fixing the party’s operations. Tsai thus entered 2016 with an extensive political story, one that was geared towards achieving success after experiencing failure.

During the 2016 campaign, both her family and her political experience would become features to which Tsai both responded to and used in order to nullify criticism and bolster her credentials. Interestingly, although she did not possess a political dynasty, Tsai still employed her family to symbolize a dedication to the country: “I myself and my family members will never invest in the mainland or have any trading activity” (Chen 2016). Her opponents, though, would also utilize that familial linkage, but now by questioning her family’s businesses practices in an attempt to portray Tsai as a dishonest person. One such practice concerned her father’s purchase of government-desired land in 1988, and selling of that same land to the same government within the same year (Chang 2015). KMT officials would repeatedly ask Tsai for clarification on this

66 purchase, question if such a purchase constituted speculation, and in turn attempt to discolor

Tsai’s character while also subtly alluding to the DPP’s history of corruption (Ibid). In response,

Tsai not only pointed to the available public record and its clearly innocent outcome, but also

demanded that the KMT drop such “baseless allegations” and return “to real issues” (Loa

2015d). At the same time, Tsai would make incisive comments on the KMT’s political character,

urging them to “stop being obstinate”, and in their “desperation” resort to such “sudden

allegations” and “mudslinging” (Strong 2015a). Moreover, Tsai would draw links between these

cheap practices and the KMT’s electoral history, noting how their “smear campaigns” occurred

during the final weeks of the campaign— a tactic that was not only “getting old” (Ko 2015b), but

also “hurting the nation’s democracy” (Loa 2015d). By doing so, Tsai could also inadvertently

showcase her own experience, one that she had already stressed, highlighted and referenced

when discussing cross-strait relations with China (Tung 2015).

In conclusion, Tsai, like Park in South Korea (and unlike Yingluck in Thailand), came into the presidential elections with a wealth of experience as both a resilient leader and party election victor. But unlike any other female executives, Tsai also entered the race without possessing a relation to a male previously in politics— a trait that interestingly did not preclude the use of her family as a campaign tactic, both for and against her candidacy. That being said,

Tsai still possessed helpful ethnic traits and showcased effective counter-attacking strategies to not only reverse the attacks of her opponents, but also to reinforce her leadership attributes and thus set herself in a more commanding and powerful electoral position.

Campaign Policies and Rhetoric (2016)

During the campaign Tsai promised a wealth of more progressive policies that placed her firmly left of center; her proposals addressing various groups while also calming public worries

67 related to the previous DPP (mis)management of China relations. Then, to further entice her

messages, Tsai employed a rhetoric that, like Park and Yingluck, emphasized a move towards

change and a commitment to democracy, with a curious absence of any gendered language.

Tsai’s largely progressive and somewhat vague campaign policies aimed to tackle the

problems and thereby procure the support of various social groups, including Taiwan’s youth,

elderly, indigenous peoples, and new immigrants. At the start of election season, Tsai and the

DPP promised “information age” policies as well as a new social stability plan, both designed to

provide a welfare system capable of supporting (and enticing) Taiwan’s key politically-involved

youth (Strong 2015b). At the same time, Tsai promised policies that would interest elderly

populations, namely more senior care communities and a reformed pension system (Chen 2015).

Pivoting to other groups, Tsai pledged as well an apology to indigenous peoples and a support

for the regrowth of their cultures, in addition to appeasing immigrants by stating that she would

relax migration laws and provide more care and assistance (Chia 2015a). Turning to the

economy, Tsai promised similar developmental reforms, touting “green energy solutions” (Wang

2015) while also guaranteeing new biomedical laws, the first designed to improve Taiwan’s

power supply, the second to make the island a “regional biomedical center” (Loa 2015a, Lu

2015). As part of this forward-looking strategy, Tsai also voiced policies for the national sectors of agriculture and defense: the former with better safety and subsidies; the latter with an aim to improve the navy’s weapons, not to mention create 8000 new jobs (Ko 2015a).

Such encouragement for Taiwan’s military could, however, raise tensions with China and thus exacerbate public worry, especially when considering the DPP had historically pursued pro- independence moves much to mainland China’s anger and annoyance (FH 2017). To diffuse this concern, Tsai wisely issued policies that strayed away from any hostility, and instead focused on

68 “maintaining stability” and continuing the “status quo” (Loa 2015b, Wu 2015a). As part of this

narrative, Tsai promised not to reduce the number of Chinese tourists or limit the quota for

mainland Chinese students (Ko 2015a, Lee 2015), saying rather that her China policies would

build upon the existing exchanges (Strong 2016), and that there would be “no empty period as

far as cross-straits issues and relations between Taiwan and China are concerned” (Ibid). She

would also heavily emphasize the group collaboration and cooperation needed on this issue, both

on the international stage through UN-aligned “proposals” and “stances”, as well as on the

domestic scene through democratic, public decisions (Wu 2015b).

Such people-based language would typify Tsai’s rhetoric during her campaign; somewhat similar to Park and Yingluck, Tsai stressed the importance of the people and tied it to a heavy emphasis on national change. Such a message was both prescient and appealing given that the recent years of seemingly-backroom politics had crafted an electorate eager for reform and demanding more representation. Tsai thus frequently claimed that “the people decide who should govern”, or that “only the people can decide on which direction the future government should take” (Ko 2016), thereafter cleverly noting that: “the people want change of government”

(Huang 2015), and that she’s “heard the public’s call for change” (Loa 2016). Simultaneously,

Tsai would also emphasize the key role of the public in this process, exclaiming that “The future is up to you now!”, and it was down to the people “to help propel a better Taiwan” (Ko 2016).

Satiating, then, the public desire for both political reform and involvement, Tsai would

not shy away from highlighting her own political suitability, stating: “my government will have

the best communication skills”, and that she would be “the most communicable president, and I

would uphold the principle of transparency and openness” (Chen 2015b). Along this line, Tsai

(again like Yingluck and Park) would also strongly emphasize her honesty, stating: “I would also

69 be the most honest president and honor my promises” (Ibid). Curiously absent here was any

form of explicitly gendered language— an absence that I analyze and explain in the subsequent

section. To finalize her suitability, then, Tsai would also heavily stress her dedication to the

public and the larger, underlying nation, vowing that she would not only “unite one political

party, but one ethnic group and a whole nation” (Wu 2016). By doing so, Tsai endeavored to

show that she would be the best candidate for the presidency: she was not only willing and eager

to let the public decide the country’s political future, but was determined to solidify that public in

her aim to move the country forward and, in accordance with her slogan, “Light up Taiwan!”

Altogether, then, Tsai issued liberal and progressive policies that appealed to a range of

Taiwan’s voters, and framed those policies around rhetorical themes of change and democracy as

a way of persuading an electorate eager for political shifts and more authentic representation. At

the same time, Tsai was careful to address the main problem of the DPP’s pro-independence legacy and its worrying implications for current cross-strait relations, most notably by avoiding radical policies and, once again, tying the Taiwanese people to the national government’s foreign policy. In a larger sense, then, Tsai’s judicious and appealing policies, tied to her persuasive and salient rhetoric, further strengthened Tsai’s already strong candidacy, and thus both supported and bolstered her chances for an election victory.

Gender in the Campaign (2016)

Already absent from Tsai’s rhetoric, the public perception of her gender would also not

take a physical focus in the national press— two traits that we would not expect having read

previous chapters. That being said, Tsai’s gender performances still appeared in the form of

opponents’ critiques, to which Tsai responded with an effective silence that utilized the gender-

70 egalitarian attitudes of the public while not undermining her representative positions. In sum, though, the female candidate’s gender was once again a heightened and politicized trait.

As I noted in the previous section, Tsai did not use the public perception of her gender at all within her rhetoric; furthermore, Taiwan’s national press neither heightened nor politicized her physical appearance— a stark contrast to what we saw in Thailand with Yingluck and in

South Korea with Park. Such an intriguing difference emerges from the very same framework that I have employed in this thesis, namely: structural, cultural, and candidate factors.

Structurally, Taiwan has had many women in its legislature as well as several women (like Tsai) in leading government positions — not to mention a previous female vice president — all of whom may have served to normalize the presence of women in politics, and thus dissuade the focus on a female politician’s physical attributes or gendered capabilities. Furthermore, Taiwan’s cultural factors in the form of gender attitudes reveal no gender-based preference when it comes to leadership (see Chapter 2), once again serving to limit the salience gender may have on the public’s selection of a president. Finally, and perhaps most tellingly, Tsai may not have wanted to use the public’s perception of her gender, or may not have needed to use the public’s perception of her gender, due to her political position. That is, in the previous cases we saw those female candidates employ the public perception of their gender to differentiate their candidacy, to buttress their messages, and to undermine their opponents— a situation Tsai did not have to experience since the KMT had strikingly different policies, their own distinct messages, and a consistent drive to differentiate themselves from the “aggressive” DPP (Hsu 2016). All told, then, Tsai (and the press) had no pressing urge to frame Tsai’s gender in the same ways we viewed previously, especially when considering Taiwan’s other structural and cultural factors.

71 That being said, Tsai’s perceived gender still appeared in the public through signs of

“Taiwan’s first female president” or “female leader is the global trend” (Loa 2016), while her

social and political gender performances also came under attack from both election opponents

and the national press. When speaking on the election, New Party Chairman Yok Mu-an

described Tsai as “more dangerous” than the current president simply because Tsai is “single”

and would therefore “be ruthless” (Hsiao 2016). Competing presidential candidate James Soong

would also focus on Tsai’s (and another woman’s) lack of a family, issuing an attack ad with the

slogan: “How can two single women possibly understand the needs of a family?” (Hioe 2016b).

Other actors would be far more unrestrained; a former chairman framed Tsai’s lack of a spouse

or of children into skeptical concerns on her sexuality, stating: “[Tsai] needs to be true to herself,

her body, in order to be true to her beliefs and the country” (Ibid). In striking parallels to Park,

Tsai would also experience the claim that being a woman rendered her unfit for the executive

office, particularly since she would be the island’s commander-in-chief (Hioe 2016a).

On a more political side, Tsai came under fire for her apparent lack of women’s policies from both her opponents and the local press. KMT vice-presidential candidate Jennifer Wang would expound on how she had “endeavored to improve women’s rights”, and then contrast it to

Tsai, noting: “Tsai has never done anything to protect and take care of women...Tsai has done nothing, if you think back” (Hsu 2015). In publishing these statements, the local press would further reinforce Tsai’s apparent lack of substantive representation— an activity the press was already doing by noting that the Awakening Foundation had said “presidential candidates have not taken policy stances on feminist or gender issues” (Gerber 2016), or by disseminating their own view that “none of the presidential candidates have proposed any women’s or gender policies” despite the potential of a first female president (Tseng 2016).

72 For her part, Tsai pursued an intriguing silence in response to both sets of critique, one

that was effective given the egalitarian social milieu, as well as the (potential) desire to not

dedicate herself wholly to being a candidate of and for women. Firstly, as the sexist comments

appeared they were always followed by a storm of criticism directed against the initial speaker

(Hioe 2016b). Tsai could thus remain calm and quiet, letting her largely gender-egalitarian society fight the battle. Secondly, with regards to the lack of gender-related policies, Tsai’s silence was effective not only because she had voiced previous support for equal rights between men and women, (Wu 2015a), but also because she may have been acting on a desire to not appear as a special interest candidate singularly devoted to women’s interests, and thus distance herself from all the other non-women voters. In this way, Tsai may have aimed to keep her appeal broad and enlarged— which would make sense given the many ways she had addressed a

diverse electorate.

In sum, Tsai’s perceived gender manifested in different ways due to a combination of

structural, cultural, and individual factors. That did not, however, preclude the heightening and

politicizing of her gender, to which Tsai responded with an effective and consistent strategy of

silence, one that, again, mitigated her losses and strengthened her representative chances.

Candidate Image (2016)

Given the lack of media focus on Tsai’s physical appearance, her overall image would

emerge from other mediums evident during the campaign. Interestingly, these mediums would

break Tsai’s relatively muted gendered presence through images that not only appealed to strong

groups in the electorate, but also projected an increased sense of femininity and personality. By

doing so, Tsai, like Park, could move away from the damaging stereotype of a humdrum

politician (one that plagued her in 2012), and towards a more familiar and more likable position.

73 I begin with Tsai’s intriguing anime gifs (moving images), with a still I captured below:

One of several examples, the above image is striking in its depiction of a younger and more (stereotypically) feminine Tsai. The backdrop is a brightened and enhanced version of

Taiwan’s geography; its golden beaches, sunny skies, and lush green land masses providing a sense of paradise. We view as well a message printed in older, more traditional Chinese script — a style common in both Taiwan and Hong Kong — its meaning: “Along the coast of youth”. The other anime gifs provide a similar nationalist and futurist message or echo Tsai’s slogan: “Light up Taiwan!” (Ashcraft 2016). Finally, in the right of the image we see a large-eyed animal happily beside Tsai, and indeed in most of the other gifs, as a kind of cute and furry sidekick. I believe that this figure is a cartoon version of one of Tsai’s cats, A-Tsai or Think-Think— pets with whom Tsai had posed in several affectionate and caring Facebook posts (Ko 2015d):

74

When considering that these anime gifs and cat pictures all present a younger, more nurturing and more attentive Tsai, her image not only becomes more personable, more familiar and more feminine, but in doing so appeals to the many young voters who liked and shared her image. Such a transformation was especially needed given Tsai’s previous history; several experts claimed that Tsai had lost her 2012 presidential bid as a result of a failure to connect closer to voters (Loa 2016). Apparently, Tsai had an all-too serious demeanor and consequent limited charisma; an opinion Tsai herself affirmed through a claim that public speaking and crowd interaction was not her strongest suit (Rauhala 2015). In 2016, then, Tsai showed a conscious effort to make the private more public and thereby address her previous voter-

connection issues, all while appealing to a strong electoral demographic in the form of Taiwan’s

digitally-connected youth. It is worth considering, too, how these (stereotypically) more feminine

posts may have battled against perceptions that Tsai was not acting womanly enough, again in a

silent but effective manner. That is, Tsai’s anime self and cat lady persona could subtly address

75 comments or questions about her inadequate social gender performance, particularly in ways that

showcased her more nurturing and attentive (maternal) side.

In a more involved manner, Tsai made sure to appear engaged, enthusiastic and

interactive during her public rallies and activities, one of which is pictured below:

Here, a smiling Tsai holds up handwritten signs in front of one of the nation’s oldest temples during a campaign rally that drew “tens of thousands” of citizens (Loa 2016). During the event, Tsai would make sure to ask the crowd multiple questions, applaud their answers, and encourage their democratic activity (“Those of you who support us must go the polling stations and cast your ballots”) in what I view as a heavily interactive performance that would once again serve to strengthen the previously-frail connection between Tsai and her voters. At other rallies,

Tsai would repeat the same call-and-response format: asking the crowd if they were happy under the KMT president (to which they would respond with a boisterous “No!”), thereafter whether they desired political change (to which they would respond with an enthusiastic “Yes!”), and finally urge the crowds to go and enact their now more enhanced desire for change (Ko 2016). In other campaign activities, Tsai carefully shaped and adjusted her image as a way of appealing to

76 the locality; for example, by reading Bible verses and parading in trucks to woo Christian groups

and transport workers; or by wearing traditional clothing in a predominantly indigenous locality

(an attire that local officials had gifted her as a way of affirming that she was a “daughter of the

Paiwan people”) (Loa 2016e). Tsai thus shifted her image in order to transform from a 2012

mundane politician to a figure that not only connected to the people but was also of the people.

As a whole, Tsai’s campaign image emerged from messages she transmitted through social media combined with interactive activities she created in public moments. More specifically, through the deployment of feminine anime ads, intimate cat pictures, and a heavy online presence, Tsai could address gender concerns and powerfully appeal to Taiwan’s youth.

These posts would then also work to shift Tsai’s image from a previously-losing gray bureaucrat

to a more vibrant candidate. As a way of reinforcing that transformation, Tsai’s campaign

activities also involved a heavy crowd engagement as well as a localized presentation. All told,

then, Tsai’s image endeavored to place herself in a stronger position than she experienced in

2012, one that could better connect her to voters and thus empower her candidacy.

Conclusion

To summarize, Tsai was able to strengthen her 2016 candidacy by effectively addressing

previous weaknesses, and by persuasively responding to her opponents’ critiques. Over the

course of the campaign, Tsai’s (interestingly) non-dynastic family and her performances of

gender came under attack from her opponents as well as from the local press in ways that sought

to question Tsai’s representative capacity and undermine her leadership capabilities. Tsai

answered, however, with adept and clever strategies, not only by choosing carefully when to

respond, but also by crafting her responses in such a way that would counterattack her

opponents. Such adroit rhetorical maneuvering was largely true of Tsai’s campaign as a whole;

77 she issued several progressive policies that in their assorted variety could appeal to many groups in the electorate, and thereafter made sure to frame those policies within a language of change and democracy that was both fitting and persuasive given Taiwan’s political climate. By doing so, and also as a product of other underlying factors, Tsai did not have to deploy or rhetorically align the public perception of her gender— a practice that stands in stark contrast to the two previous cases. That being said, (in all cases) the public perception of gender was still heightened and politicized during the campaign, from both the candidate and other political actors.

Moreover, the overarching pattern and resultant conclusion of all these case studies remains the same: the female candidate strengthened their candidacy and bolstered their chances for victory through elements of their campaign, thereby building on the initial structural and cultural framework to provide a more contextualized explanation for the emergence of a female leader.

78 Conclusion

Out of my three cases, only Tsai Ing-wen still governs over the country that she won—

although the cat-loving president is currently suffering from low approval ratings and higher levels of unpopularity (Chen 2018). Worryingly, this disgruntlement stems from her previous bastion of young and middle-aged supporters, with local elections due to occur this year (Ibid).

That situation is still preferable to those of her Thai or Korean counterparts, both of whom saw their leadership cut short by executive scandals, court trials, and finally sentences of imprisonment. In Thailand, Yingluck Shinawatra watched as legislators left the parliamentary building in protest against her budget and her proposed Thaksin amnesty bill, all amidst a rising

civil unrest (Biswas 2015). A few months later, the Thai military ousted Yingluck in a coup, and

three years on the courts issued her a five year corruption sentence— she had, however, already

fled the country (Holmes 2017). Such an inglorious exit was still more preferable than the fate

that befell Park, who in 2016 experienced impeachment over allegations that she had extorted

money and taken bribes. South Korea’s Constitutional Court then formally removed Park from

office, allowing prosecutors to arrest and imprison the president (Choe 2017).

Unsurprisingly, over the course of these events the gender of these leaders was in full

focus, with exclamations of failed gender roles coloring the outrage over Park’s scandals (Choe

2016), and a torrent of sexism (led by Thai elites) following Yingluck’s demise (Phillips 2017).

In contrast, Tsai has seen relatively little domestic sexism, but mainland CCP officials offer

recurring volleys of gender-based attacks (Lu 2016). In all cases, then, the focus on and attention

to gender remains. However, these dynamics cannot simply be seen as extensions of the

campaign period, and require an analysis that is beyond the scope of this thesis.

79 Main Findings

This thesis has focused only on the aspect of winning the country, and particularly on how Asian women have democratically ascended to national executives despite female- constraining contexts. To do so, I first reviewed previous research, discovering an existing explanatory framework consisting of structural, cultural, institutional, and historical conditions.

By analyzing the relevance and salience of these factors in three selected cases of women executives in Asia — cases that I chose for their recency and their insight — I found that this framework suffers from a recurring inability to explain both the timing and mechanisms of its comprising elements. As a result, there exists an overall insufficient explanation.

I moved then to applying a new set of “candidate-specific factors” focusing on: family ties and political experience; campaign policies and rhetoric; mobilization of gender during the campaign; and finally the candidate’s overall image. Using this framework, I found that in

Thailand in 2011 Yingluck Shinawatra utilized her dynasty and background to leverage more support and authority, while also aligning her policies and rhetoric with both the national context and societal ideals of femininity in order to persuade the electorate. When tied to her fresh and familiar image, I saw overall a campaign strengthened by the candidate for her success.

Turning to South Korea in 2012, I discovered that Park drew on her extensive experience to address her controversial dynasty, thereafter pursuing centrist policies and a new age rhetoric in order to appeal to the eager-for-change electorate, to sever damaging ties to the unpopular incumbent, and to pivot towards a more inclusive political position. When tying in the heightened and politicized perception of her gender, as well as the shifts and consistencies in her image, I saw once again a campaign strengthened by the candidate for her success.

80 In a final turn to 2016 Taiwan, I revealed that Tsai not only adroitly responded to criticisms related to her family and gender performances, but also that she skillfully utilized her experience to provide widely-appealing policies couched in a nationally-persuasive democratic rhetoric. At the same time, Tsai worked to transform her image from a previously-losing gray bureaucrat to a more personable, more vibrant, and more stereotypically feminine candidate— traits that once again indicate a campaign strengthened by the candidate for her success.

In short, all of my cases revealed a female candidate bolstering her position in ways that could elevate her chances for victory, and thus help to enact her emergence. Furthermore, all of my cases demonstrate that these three candidates faced obstacles unique to their gender during their ascension to the executive office. Indeed, their politically-novel gender colored most if not all aspects of their campaign, from their policies and rhetoric to their image and opponents’ actions. Such a phenomenon demonstrates how gender is not an isolated analytical category, but rather a vast field that incorporates and impacts all aspects of a woman politician’s campaign. As such, I find that my case studies also demonstrate the ways through which female executives can respond to gender-based obstacles and can mobilize gender-based perspectives so as to overcome the initial barriers present in their political and social environments. Here, while structural and cultural explanations give us a view of enabling contexts and political disadvantages, they are not sufficient to explain when and how women candidates rise to executive office. We must also analyze the female candidate’s skills, experience, and campaign strategies so as to obtain both an understanding on and appreciation for how she developed her authority and in turn strengthened her chances of victory. My principal finding is thus that candidate-specific factors produce a beneficial contribution to explanations on the emergence of (Asian) women executives.

81 Limitations

The reader might note that since I only analyze candidates who have won elections, my thesis may suffer from a tautological selection bias. They might claim that I assert part of the reason why these women won is because they pursued effective campaigns, and that my ultimate marker for the effectiveness of these campaigns is the fact that these women won the election.

I press against this claim on two accounts, the first of which is based on source material.

When studying women executives who have emerged in Asia, the researcher is not exactly picking from a large data set: only 19 female leaders have emerged in this region (Lee and

Jalalzai 2017), with most of those 19 winning their first elections. Some of these women have, though, lost lower-level elections (Park, for example, lost the 2008 party nomination), or even previous attempts at the national presidency— a relatively rare occurrence that I still partly discuss through my brief analysis of Tsai Ing-wen’s 2012 defeat. That being said, I must ask here for more studies on how and when women in Asia fail to win electoral races (perhaps using the same framework), especially when those situations arise become more frequent.

Secondly, and more pertinently, I hope that my thesis has shown that I do not simply frame the result of the election as the marker for a candidate’s campaign effectiveness, but rather show the ways in which candidates crafted and enacted strategies in ways that set their campaigns as potentially effective given the temporal and national context. I have demonstrated that this effective campaign strategy could be a conscious targeting of population groups that later heavily influenced the election (see Appendix), or a careful management of personal traits

(e.g. gender, family ties) and policies (e.g. reunification, anti-corruption) that in turn strengthen the candidate’s authority and indicates or reinforces their leadership capabilities.

82 Of course, when discussing electoral outcomes there is always a variety of factors at play, resulting in a careful language that stresses potentials, and a failure to quantitatively determine the significance of a specific factor. But this unfortunate dynamic affords another possibility.

Namely, since we cannot determine the influence of a specific factor, we have to acknowledge instead the interplay of all factors, one of which has to be the candidate and the effectiveness of their campaign. After all, it seems rather unlikely that a candidate who does nothing would win an election, and thus that the candidate must have done something so as to emerge victorious.

Which leads me to another potential limitation: that of the reader viewing my thesis as bordering or even constituting the obvious. Indeed, it may sound almost too boring and too simple to assert that a winning candidate had successful campaign strategies, or that a successful politician had an effective campaign— to which I respond again with a two-part answer.

First, while this observation might seem logically obvious it has seen little attention in the literature, which instead focuses on the roles of structural opportunities, institutional constructs, cultural avenues, and historical continuities. My apparent truism has thus received surprisingly little scholarly attention, which in turn (re)emphasizes the relevance and importance of this seemingly self-evident argument. Second, while the claim’s overall premise might seem obvious to the point perhaps of being dull, strikingly-interesting concepts emerge when contemplating what exactly a successful campaign strategy means when considering that this campaign strategy functions for a candidate previously under-represented in politics. In this thesis, gender was the novel political element, one that (perhaps as a result) influenced and colored all aspects of the campaign. Gender thus becomes a fascinating inquiry into the campaign; how a candidate mobilizes and performs perceptions of their gender determines in part their electoral success.

83 Main Contributions and Further Study

My thesis ultimately argues for the methodological innovation of including candidate factors in the explanation for the ascent of women politicians, as they not only elaborate upon certain elements of the initial framework, but also provide a more robust explanation as to how and when women politicians emerge. This broad, universalist language is no accident; while I have focused on the emergence of three female executives in Asia, I believe that we can use candidate factors (in conjunction with other elements in the framework) to explain how all female politicians ascend— whether that ascension is historic or current, global or local.

By doing so, my thesis also argues for a conceptual shift in explanations and studies of women politicians, a shift that not only places women as the central actors in their emergence, but by doing so also analyzes those central actors in their quest to emerge successfully. Through this method I believe we can uncover patterns and behaviors not only influential for the study of gender in politics, but also for the study of leadership and its associated traits of authority and legitimacy (Jalalzai 2010). Indeed, in this study of just three female candidates, we saw a pattern of the political use of femininity in ways that indicate gender can become a dexterous political tool, one that affects the ideals of that which constitutes legitimate leadership.

It is also worth contemplating here the link between social perceptions on gender and the campaign mobilization of femininity. Do egalitarian views entail less gender displays; male- biased attitudes more gender performances? In addition: is this prevalence of gender unique to first female executives or available to all subsequent women politicians? We must also ask how these gender mobilizations during the campaign later affect the rule of the female executive, especially when that rule turns towards a dramatic decline in the form of scandal and trial.

84 Some patterns that are not gender-specific also emerged in this study. One of these patterns is the growing use and influence of social media during the campaign. My cases demonstrated that these media were often platforms through which candidates could transmit their campaign, albeit to a different demographic and in a more visual format. Accordingly, I find it interesting here to pursue a study on how gender (a performative activity) manifests online

(a visual stage), and with what effects on female politicians (actors who often experience a heightening and politicization of their gender). Family ties, as well, offer avenues of further analysis. I have shown that even when controversial, candidates use family ties to bolster their politics. As the traditional family structure shifts and changes, how will this deployment change?

Evidently, there is quite a bit of room for further exploration in this subject— an observation that will become increasingly apparent as more and more women politicians emerge. Explaining that development will certainly have to rely on an assortment of underlying structural and cultural conditions, but hopefully as well on a new focus of candidate-specific factors. This is not to say that my conception of candidate factors is final, and that all future scholars should employ the exact same framework that I have applied to these three cases. Certainly, there are more factors, more interpretations, and more case studies that we can explore so as to develop our understandings of how women emerge, not only as recipients of a context, but also as capable and effective agents acting within those contexts. By doing so, we may gradually arrive at a deeper comprehension of how gender functions within politics, as well as how politics functions within gender, moving us to a more enlightening comprehension of not only ourselves but also of the (power) relations that exist and persist between us.

85 Appendix

Chapter 2: An Initial but Insufficient Explanation

Figure 2.1 Thailand election ballot (by the Electoral Commission of Thailand). Party names (and not candidate names) are listed, Pheu Thai (Yingluck’s party) is number 1:

Source: Bangkok Pundit. “Why is the Pheu Thai logo on the ballot paper so small?” Asian Correspondent, 2011. https://asiancorrespondent.com/2011/06

86 Figure 2.2. South Korea’s local ballots from 2010, both candidate and party names listed:

Source: “Elections in South Korea.” Wikipedia, 2010.

Figure 2.3 Taiwan’s election ballots from 2016, both candidate and party names listed:

Source: Shadbolt, Peter. “Taiwan’s expats seen as key in presidential poll.” CNN, 2012. https://www.cnn.com/2012/01/13/world/asia/taiwan-election/index.html

87

Chapter 3: Yingluck Shinawatra in Thailand

Figure 3.1 Campaign poster of Yingluck’s primary opponent during the 2011 election, Prime Minister and Democrat Party leader, Abhisit Vejjajiva. The slogan (“move ahead with policies for the people”) is situated on the bottom.

Source: Baker, Chris. “Abhisit on the streets.” New Mandala, 2011. http://www.newmandala.org/abhisit-on-the-streets/

88 Figure 3.2. Map of electoral results in Thailand. Note here the regional support for Pheu Thai in the central farmlands and Northern provinces— regions which Yingluck had targeted through various events and rallies, at which she would dress in provincially-suitable outfits:

Source: “World Elections: Thailand 2011.” Wordpress, 2011. https://welections.wordpress.com/2011/07/04/thailand-2011/

89 Chapter 4: Rise of the Election Queen

Figure 3.2 Infographic detailing electoral polls just before South Korea’s 2012 election. The votes are separated by color for primary candidate, and by age for voter. Notice here Park’s majority pull when it comes to voters above the age of 49— voters who would perhaps appreciate Park’s respectful treatment of her father and harkening to her mother. Indeed, this demographic would go on to serve Park well during the election (Chosun Ilbo 2012).

Source: Chae, Byung-gun and Ser Myo-ja. “ hinges on middle-aged voters.” Korea JoongAng Daily, 2012 http://koreajoongangdaily.joins.com/news/article/article.aspx?aid=2961130

90 Chapter 5: Shifting for the Second Chance

Figure 5.1 Nationwide polling for the Taiwan presidential election of 2016. The race is never that close, begging even further the question as to how Tsai won considering that she had lost before.

Source: “Taiwan general election, 2016.” Wikipedia, 2017. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taiwan_general_election,_2016

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