The Dictator Mindset: How Every Dictator Began As A Liberator
What does it say about us that the world is so much at the mercy of dictators and wannabe dictators, and what can we do about it? Perhaps in part by managing that little bit of dictator we each carry.
As a practical philosopher, I pay attention to phenomena and the way things happen. As a coach, I ask myself what I, or we, can do about things that happen. Right now, I’m appalled at the level of power being given to dictators and wannabe dictators; power that the sensible majority seem unable to wrest ourselves away from. Since my personal philosophy is always to look first for the log in my own eye, to be the change I want to see in the world, I thought we might take a journey through the theme of dictatorship, big—the literal dictators—and small, the ways in which we might sometimes show up in a similar way.
The thing to notice about dictators is that every dictator started out as a liberator. Seriously. Pick any one of them. Let’s start with Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe. He led the revolutionary movement ZANU and became the country’s first Prime Minister after independence. Then he settled in for another 30 years as a dictator who stage-managed elections and called himself president. Then there’s Fidel Castro. We could go on and on. I invite you to start your own list. Google “dictators” and read their stories. It’s the same pattern again and again.
Of course, they don’t see themselves as dictators. They continue to believe their original narrative: in their minds they remain liberators, for life, even while they’re destroying the country. How do we allow this to happen? How do so many people fall for it? How do they manage to become—and remain—cult leaders to millions of people? Of course, the more useful question is, how do we unwind ourselves from this pattern?
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And by the way, you get dictators in business, too, in sports teams, in churches, in families, so I might refer to some of those situations too as I unpack the subject. And in the spirit of personal responsibility, as you read, you might want to reflect on where you might be seeing this, even where you might be doing it in your own small way in your small corner of the world. You’re probably not, but just maybe.
Also, we could address this subject through a broad sociological lens, or a slightly narrower behavioural one. Those would be valid, but not the journey I want to take you on. I want to approach it as a coach and ask the question that a coach would: What internal shift would our dictator have to make to transform and set themselves on a different path? Because that’s really what we want, isn’t it? That’s really what we’re asking for. We want them to have a change of heart. We want them to transform. It would be so much easier than having to stage a revolution with all that bombing and shooting and living in tunnels that has to happen. Besides, they’re good at revolutions, they’ve already proved that they know how to win them.
What internal shift would our dictator have to make to transform and set themselves on a different path?
So here goes. Let’s say I was preparing for a coaching session with someone who no longer wanted to be a dictator. It has dawned on him that the liberator that he once was (in my list of dictators they’re all men), has begun to morph into the oppressor that he fought against and before it’s too late he wants to exit from that trajectory. I would speculate that at the deepest level, the insights that will most benefit him will be:
first, to not conflate his ego identity with the country’s identity (good luck with that, I’d tell myself, and move on to the next one);
second, to see that the struggle is over, at least to the extent that what got him to where he is will probably not get the country to where it needs to be (including, hopefully, the insight that he might not be the right person to take it forward); and
third, to let go of the (possibly unconsciousness) need to be compensated for his suffering (in other words, his need to get revenge, or to level the score).
Let’s unpack those, and once again, while we’re doing it, think about where else you might be seeing this. Think about where you, yourself, might be doing it in your own small way—I’ll try to point out some examples.
Conflated identities: why we ought to pay attention when Donald Trump treats every legal threat to him as a threat to American democracy
First up is the issue of identity. It amazes me that this can happen, but there are people whose identity is so conflated with that of their country, their company, their team, their family, that if they can’t have that thing, then in their minds that thing can’t exist. This gets tragically expressed in a murder-suicide, where the father doesn’t kill only himself; he sees his family as an extension of himself, and so feels the right—or twisted obligation—to take them all with him. In the series Succession we saw this with the patriarch Logan Roy: he simply could not let the company exist as an entity separate from himself. He made a great show of deciding who he wanted to pass it on to, but he was never really going to let go as long as (spoiler alert!) he was alive. In politics, we see it in every dictator. We ought to pay attention then, when Donald Trump treats every legal threat to himself as a threat to American democracy, as though he and America are one and the same.
An additional factor is that our dictator’s identity as a founder or liberator—as a veritable saviour—means they can never admit that they are the problem, or the ones doing wrong. The founder / saviour / liberator identity is a tremendously powerful force and one that even the most sophisticated societies seem susceptible to, even in this day and age.
We can probably say the same for almost every tech billionaire
We can probably say the same for almost every tech billionaire. When they start out, they present themselves as modern saviours, until through the dependence they create on their technology they become just like those hegemonic dictators: they refuse to admit that any problem occurring on earth could possibly be their fault. And God forbid anybody should try to regulate them. No, like true dictators, they insist on regulating themselves (which means not at all or superficially at best).
If we bring this down to our own lives, we can see the way in which we become identified with our careers, our roles—as boss, as sports team coach, as pastor, as chairperson, as parent—and how we treat it as though something happening to the business or the team, the family, the child, is really happening to me, and how reactive we become in fighting against that, how we become mini-dictators in our little corner of the world. Is it really true (that it’s all about you)?
Our dictators hold on to their enemies long after they’re defeated
Second, there’s the issue of how dictators hold on long after they’ve lost relevance, how for them the enemy remains the enemy that was defeated, even decades after the battle was won. Mugabe actively attacked colonialism as the enemy more than four decades after Zimbabwe gained independence. Apartheid is still the enemy for the ANC liberators of South Africa, nearly 30 years after that system’s demise. For Americans who hold America to ransom over the Second Amendment, the federal government is still the enemy.
Apart from the obvious self-aggrandisement that this implies, such holding onto the past is the opposite of visionary. (If any dictator does have a positive vision for their country, and executes on it, they’re termed “benevolent” dictators. So the exception proves the rule.) It’s no wonder then that dictators take their countries backwards. North Korea under Kim Jong Un is still trapped in the 50s. Cuba, for all its romanticism, got stuck in a similar era under Fidel Castro.
The leaders of the great companies were not indispensable heroes
In his research into what makes companies truly outstanding, Good to Great author Jim Collins discovered that the leaders of those consistently great companies were usually ones who operated not as indispensable heroes, but as quiet guides who made themselves redundant by empowering those around them. They were able to retire without any noticeable disruption. Nelson Mandela, ironically the one person whom people would have welcomed as a ruler for decades, stood down after only one term as president. Once again, the exception proves the rule. Countries would be better served if our liberators erected a statue, named an airport after themselves, and retired to a villa by the sea after they completed one victory lap.
Once again, bringing this into our own lives, in what way do we still fight wars that have long been won—or even lost. I can think of one that comes up a lot: when we want our children to know how much we suffered, when we insist that they must learn the lessons we did by fighting the same enemy we fought. Or as a business leader, we defend against something that happened a decade ago, insisting that we’ll never let that happen again, not recognising that things have changed, that enemy is gone and will probably not come back, but if we don’t look out we won’t see the one that does come. Socially, politically and religiously, we can get stuck in the past, fighting to maintain the relevance of laws and interpretations from another age.
Our dictators have an insatiable need to be compensated for what they suffered, as though that might somehow level the score
Third, there is the issue of compensation, of getting your own back, getting revenge, levelling the score. Our dictators seem to have an insatiable need to be compensated for what they suffered, as though that might somehow level the score. For the past two decades, in South Africa, among the political elite, there has been a saying that, “It’s our turn to eat.” They want to make up for what they missed out on in the past and they feel it’s their right. The consequence has been that large portions of taxpayer money have still not been adequately spent on services for the people who suffered under apartheid. To that extent, they have turned into the thing they fought against. Of course, the pattern is easy to deny because the details look different: it’s no longer a race thing.
For them to behave differently, they would need to let go of that notion, which would mean letting go of their need to level the score. Nelson Mandela is revered precisely for his ability to do that—he had a white finance minister and argued for the rugby team to keep their Springbok emblem. If Mandela’s proteges had continued to follow his example, they would have let go of the need for compensation and forged a different path. They would have looked after future generations, instead of their own.
The past should serve only as a reminder of what not to become
It's ironic that lawyers instructed by this South African bunch took the fight to Israel in the International Court of Justice last week to challenge Israel on their actions in Gaza. Israel’s actions are deeply driven by revenge and getting even. Getting more than even, if you do the math. America is big on getting even too, just ask Afghanistan and Iraq, and so is Donald Trump, who has been quoted as saying, “I don’t get too angry, I get even.”. Perhaps the two deserve each other?
Back to my point. If my client wants to not become the dictator that he sees himself becoming, then he needs to come to terms with his loss. As much as he might want to, as much as he might feel he deserves it, he has to let go of the past, except as a reminder of what not to become, and he has to become something else.
Now for the check-in: where do you see this around you and in yourself? Where might you be seeking compensation for something you suffered? In what way might that pursuit turn you into that thing or person that oppressed you? We really are big on getting even, no matter if it’s something as small as a perceived insult. It’s probably one of the hardest things to not do.
Vector image credit: https://vectorportal.com/vector/fidel-castro-vector-illustration/1352