When Sussan Ley shattered the political glass ceiling to become Australia's first female Liberal Party leader, the moment was meant to signal a new era. Instead, it became a textbook case of the glass cliff phenomenon—where women are elevated to leadership positions precisely when failure is most likely.
Ley's ascent to the top job came in the aftermath of the Labor Party's decisive victory in May 2022, which left the Liberals in their weakest position in modern history. Tasked with rebuilding a fractured party, healing a toxic coalition partnership, and winning back disillusioned voters, she faced what political scientists call a glass cliff scenario. This term describes the pattern of appointing women and minorities to leadership roles during periods of crisis, setting them up for disproportionate risk of failure.
The challenges were monumental. The Liberal Party was deeply divided between moderate and conservative factions, each pulling in opposite directions. The longstanding coalition with the National Party had become increasingly strained, with the rural-based partner growing more vocal and rebellious. Meanwhile, the party's policy platform had been comprehensively rejected by the electorate, particularly in urban centers where progressive values dominated.
Perhaps most critically, the Liberals had hemorrhaged support among women voters following numerous allegations of misogyny and sexism during their previous term in government. Ley's supporters argued she was uniquely qualified to bridge these divides—a moderate who could speak to urban progressives while maintaining credibility with rural conservatives. Her two decades in parliament and five years as a cabinet minister provided the experience needed for such a daunting task.
Yet less than a year later, Ley was ousted in a leadership ballot, losing 34-17 to Angus Taylor. Her deputy, Senator Jane Hume, remained in her position, creating an unusual dynamic where the male challenger defeated the female incumbent while keeping the female deputy. This result has reignited fierce debate about whether gender played a role in Ley's downfall or whether it was simply a matter of performance.
Dr. Michelle Ryan, who coined the term "glass cliff" and directs the Global Institute for Women's Leadership, describes Ley's situation as a classic example. "There was just crisis on every front," she notes, pointing to the multiple, simultaneous challenges that made success nearly impossible. The phenomenon suggests that women are often given opportunities to lead only when the situation is so dire that no one else wants the job, or when their failure can be easily explained by pre-existing problems rather than their own capabilities.
Ley's opponents argue that her removal had nothing to do with gender and everything to do with results. They contend that she failed to make significant progress on any front—party unity remained elusive, the coalition partnership stayed dysfunctional, and the Liberals continued to lag in polls, particularly among women. In this view, Ley was given a fair chance and simply couldn't deliver.
However, her supporters counter that she was never given a genuine opportunity to succeed. They point out that the timeline was impossibly short for meaningful change, and that the party's structural problems predated her leadership by years. Some suggest that unconscious bias may have made colleagues quicker to judge her performance harshly, while others note that the very act of appointing a woman to clean up a mess created by men reflects deeper systemic issues.
The broader context reveals a troubling pattern in Australian politics. Despite having had only one female prime minister, Julia Gillard, who also faced significant gender-based attacks, Australia lags behind many comparable democracies in women's political representation. The Liberal Party, in particular, has struggled with female representation, relying on a "merit-based" argument that many critics say masks structural barriers.
The glass cliff phenomenon extends beyond politics into corporate leadership, where studies show women are more likely to be appointed CEOs when companies are in crisis. This pattern creates a vicious cycle: women get fewer opportunities to lead, and when they do, they're often set up to fail, which then reinforces stereotypes about women's leadership capabilities.
For the Liberal Party, Ley's brief tenure raises uncomfortable questions about its commitment to gender equality. While the party celebrates the symbolic victory of having a female leader, the circumstances of her appointment and removal suggest tokenism rather than genuine inclusion. The fact that she was replaced by a male colleague who argued she "didn't have what it takes" feels, to many, like a return to business as usual.
The implications extend beyond party politics. Australia's democracy suffers when half the population sees limited representation in its highest offices. Research consistently shows that diverse leadership leads to better decision-making and more responsive governance. When women are relegated to glass cliff scenarios, the entire political system loses out on their potential contributions during stable, prosperous times.
Looking forward, the Liberal Party must confront whether it wants to address these systemic issues or continue the pattern. Will it implement structural reforms to support women leaders, such as quotas or mentorship programs? Or will it continue to rely on symbolic appointments that place women in impossible situations?
The answer may determine not just the party's future electoral success, but also its relevance in a changing Australia where voters increasingly expect genuine gender parity. For now, Sussan Ley's experience serves as both a milestone and a warning—a reminder that breaking the glass ceiling means little if it only leads to a glass cliff.
Her story echoes that of many women in leadership: celebrated for being first, but denied the conditions necessary to succeed. Until Australian politics addresses the structural barriers and biases that create these dynamics, the pattern is likely to repeat, with talented women being set up to fail while the underlying problems remain unsolved.