Some would say that Donald Trump isn’t the nicest of men. Along with some other notable political leaders, his main aim seems to be to win, and to win at any cost. And by winning, I mean to wield and sustain power, to be seen as the biggest, the greatest, the most potent. Given his political and economic power are deeply entwined, winning includes prioritising the attainment of ever-greater wealth.
His followership seems to operate like a cult. To be in the camp requires total loyalty; there is no room for dissent. To reap its benefits requires unquestioning allegiance – and even to put one foot outside the camp will provoke attack and exile. Of course, if you already stand outside the camp, then, in these attacks, anything is justified – lies, insinuations, half-truths, aggression, threats.
the Faustian pact between the powerful and the powerless
Some followers adopt a position that is perilously close to addiction. Ann Wilson Schaef wrote When Society becomes an Addict in 1987. She explains that the dynamics of addiction require a ‘deal’ between leader and follower. By swallowing whole (no chewing allowed) the idea that the leader knows what he is doing, that he knows how, in Trump’s case, to Make America Great Again, the follower enters into an unconscious agreement not to think independently, or question, or contemplate other perspectives. Schaef argues that the powerful and the powerless are indeed in a Faustian pact; the powerful entitled ones are allowed to do what it takes to retain that power in order that the powerless can remain innocent and avoid responsibility. The leader knows best. Once in position, the behaviour of a powerful leader can thus remain unchallenged; the psychological cost and the practical consequences of challenge are too high.
just close your eyes
There is a less ‘signed up’ followership style too. One that acknowledges ‘bad behaviour’ but concludes that on the whole it is worth turning a blind eye, in order to reap the benefits of belonging. They know that any challenge might get them thrown out, and, even worse, they themselves may become the recipient of the leader’s venom and violent attacks. So, they keep silent, they appease, they fawn. These may be ‘good men doing nothing’, to quote the well-known saying. They set their moral compass in other directions.
.. and not just in politics
This behaviour is not only seen in politics but in many arenas where there is a strong drive to shape and dominate opinion – those influencing attitudes to climate change, vaccines, technology, or land ownership, for example – or those seeing themselves as subject-matter experts.
This also can happen in the academic community, although there is a degree of protection accorded through traditions of peer review, and the need to position and trace arguments in relation to lineage and literature. These processes give some protection against the use of personal reputational slurs, or the adoption of the lawyers’ trick to extract something that can be used out of context and create a cloud of uncertainty.
But this restraint does not arise in general. Perhaps, for some, dominant ‘thought leadership’ behaviour comes from a sort of Messianic hubris – only they know the right way, only they can be the arbiter or guardian of the Truth. For others it may simply be a desire to be revered; or (just watching The Manosphere), a desire to monetise their fame.
how do you mitigate against this shift to power?
(a) maintain resilience – diversity, connection, dialogue, power-sharing
Through the lens of complexity, there is ample discussion on the ways in which societies or communities or ecologies can become and remain resilient and balanced; this requires openness to the wider context, so that information, resources and energy can enter and leave. It requires diversity, connection and power sharing. In relation to the social world, this implies relationship-building, honesty and fairness. Political theorist Chantal Mouffe also underlines that need for ‘agonistic dissent’ – encouraging differences of view but in a way that allows the exploration of such differences without recourse to sustained attack or adopting an ‘I am right, you are wrong’ position.
Equally, dialogic approaches that allow space for relaxed debate, often surface new insights and perspectives that disembodied detached thrusts with the analytical mind do not. Quantum physicist David Bohm championed the role of dialogue and explored how, in safe and appreciative circles (which is not to say there is not dissent and debate), new insights and ideas can emerge through collective weaving and engagement, through the interplay of reason, feeling and imagination.
(b) find the sage, not the theorist
Complexity theory, at least that in tune with what Edgar Morin names general complexity (Boulton, 2024:125-131), emphasises that, because the world does not reduce to the mechanics of a machine, does not exist objectively ‘out there’, it cannot be known entirely through Reason. There is a place for intuition, feeling, the imagination; and there is a need for multiple perspectives and methods of ‘critical subjectivity’. Many of the well-renowned complexity theorists – I think of Ilya Prigogine, Peter Allen, Brian Goodwin, David Byrne – emphasised this inherent subjectivity. And Peter Allen spoke increasingly of the need for humility (Boulton et al (2015:222).
In The Dao of Complexity (Boulton 2024:237-8) I wrote about the way Heidegger advocates the value of engaging with the visceral experience of the ‘here and now’. Yet, despite being an early proponent of phenomenology, his writing is rather abstract and disembodied. It is as if he thinks about paying attention to the relational particularities of immediate experience but doesn’t see the need to do it himself. How does this disconnect impact the development of insight and wisdom? If you think in abstract terms about experience – as opposed to developing ideas and insights through the embedded, embodied, relationally-entwined ‘heart-mind’ – then do your conclusions convey an aspect of the answer or, worse, are they fundamentally flawed?
In similar vein, Freya Mathews (2016:4) distinguishes the abstract disembodied schemas of the Theorist with the embodied, lived, rich wisdom of the Sage.
The impact of splitting off reason from feeling is also a theme explored by Alfred North Whitehead and Mary Midgely and others as I discussed in transcending reason; imagine that. If you compare Heidegger’s writing on phenomenology to that of Hannah Arendt, for example, then you might judge Arendt’s writing to be less definite, less authoritative – but somehow more whole, more human… more wise?
(c) draw your moral line, speak out, take action – ‘the path is made through walking’
So, what is to be done? How do you respond to leaders who seemingly will stop at nothing to maintain their superior position? Many political writers who have lived through the gradual degradation of democracy and the move towards dictatorship have reflected on this. For example, Maria Ressa is a Nobel Peace Prize-winning Filipino American journalist who describes in How to Stand up to a Dictator how she challenged the government in The Philippines. She extols each of us to ‘set out your moral compass and draw your line’. She says (Ressa, 2022:30):
“I learned that drawing the line, calling out unfairness and being honest [is what] moves life forwards, brings something new into fruition. Staying silent or compliant changed nothing. Speaking up was an act of creation.”
Ressa continued (2022:11-12):
“you build [the future] through every choice you make, the commitments you choose, the people you love and the values you hold dear.”
Maybe this sounds naïve? But I note that writers who have lived through such dire political situations – and I have not – tend to reach similar conclusions. For example, Vaclav Havel, in The Power of the Powerless in 1978, reflecting on what led to change in Eastern Europe, concluded that the shift was initiated when people were no longer able to keep silent, were no longer able to stifle their authenticity. “Immense power”, he says, “comes from telling the truth” (Read, 2023:2).
be brave
And to do this, you have to be brave. I think of the Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde, who, at Trump’s post-inaugural prayer service, urged him to show mercy to immigrants and LGBTQ individuals. I think of Francesca Albanese, who, after publishing her 2024 UN report Anatomy of a Genocide, continues to receive death threats.
Both complexity thinking and Daoism argue that the future is co-created by our collective actions and intentions. As complexity biologist Francisco Varela (1987) underlined, the path is made through walking – albeit not walking on a freshly laid field. If we are blasé about mistruths, if we turn a blind eye to bullying and unfairness, if we leave our values at the door, if we go along with behaviours that stifle or strangle diversity of perspective, then we will normalise such behaviours. And we will reap what we sow.