What is a tyrant?

  • Themes: History

Tyranny is an ancient concept with a history going back to the ancient Greeks. Understanding how the best minds have grappled with this elusive term can enrich contemporary discussion about the character of strongmen and authoritarian governments.

Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon.
Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon. Credit: Pictorial Press Ltd / Alamy Stock Photo

To his critics, Donald Trump poses an existential threat to American democracy: a would-be dictator, a strongman, a tyrant. The outcome of the 2020 election did little to assuage the fears of these analysts, with the attack on the US Capitol in January 2021 dubbed a failed coup. Trump himself characteristically failed to bring calm to the situation when he claimed, in December 2023, that he wanted to be a dictator on his first day back in office. Democratic Party campaign adverts gladly repeated this statement for the benefit of a worried American electorate.

Is Donald Trump a tyrant? To answer that question we need a better idea of what a tyrant actually is. Tyranny is an ancient concept with a long history going all the way back to the ancient Greeks. Until the 18th century the tyrant was the central archetype of bad government. The word was universally deployed to galvanise resistance to bad lords and autocratic despotism. Caesar was murdered in 44 BC to prevent tyranny at Rome; Charles I of England’s execution in 1649 was regicide justified as tyrannicide. The current debate in America on how to constrain an elected president is very old indeed.

Aristotle defined tyranny as government that was not constrained by laws or customs; was inevitably in the interest of the ruler, not the governed; and carried out without the consent of the governed.

This definition is repeated, pretty much, though with minor variations, by philosophers from the fourth century BC to the present day. But virtually no one, in this vast tradition of thought on tyranny, took time to articulate a method by which rulers might be identified as tyrants (the one exception is the 14th-century Italian jurist Bartolus of Saxoferrato, but that is another story).

In the two centuries of turmoil that followed the Reformation, thinkers began to reject the concept of tyranny. As a rhetorical label it was too often abused for bad ends. Thomas Hobbes declared, in his Leviathan of 1651, that Aristotle’s idea of tyranny was a false philosophy. It had induced ‘men, as oft as they like not their Governours, to adhaere to those that call them Tyrants, and to think it lawfull to raise warre against them’.

Yet tyranny matters as a concept for at least two reasons. First, Hobbes was wrong to believe that all forms of government can be justified. Tyranny does exist in this world. The only problem is how to diagnose it effectively. A political concept may well be abused but does not lose its utility thereby. Not everyone who is called a racist or fascist is guilty of being so: should we then believe that racism or fascism do not exist? That would be patently absurd. The same is true of tyranny.

Second, the word tyrant conveys a powerful value judgement that words such as ‘dictator’ or ‘authoritarian’ do not. If applied correctly, and on the basis of objective criteria, tyranny as a concept is a powerful tool: it can be used to delegitimise and expose dangerous regimes that pose a major threat to global freedom and democracy.

If we are to identify tyrannies, the ancient definition poses some problems. We need to find some indicator that can be objectively measured. And the question of whether a ruler governs in the interest of the people is a highly subjective one. As Jean-Jacques Rousseau argued in his Social Contract, if we accept Aristotle’s definition there is no king who has not been a tyrant, since all rulers have their own interests very much at heart. The same truth is equally and painfully obvious when we turn to democratic politicians.

What about consent of the governed? If elected in November, Donald Trump will have the consent of about half of the American electorate. Is this consent? And if he becomes a fully fledged tyrant, there emerges another problem: how do you measure consent in a dictatorship?

Tyrants, in crushing press freedom and persecuting opposition groups, prevent accurate reporting of what citizens think. Saddam Hussein received the endorsement of 100 per cent of the Iraqi population in 2002, during the build-up to the US invasion. Was this popular consent? All dictators have some level of support, all of the time. But it is a mistake to suppose that this is generally majority support. In reality, dictators rely on the best funded and best resourced minority. This is not the same kind of support enjoyed by democratic parties: rather, it is bought and coerced by a potent combination of rewards and threats.

So we return to the issue of the constraints provided by laws. And here we have a viable indicator of tyranny. The question is not so much whether laws or institutions exist in a state. Many dictators are elected; many are avid lawmakers. The question is whether these institutions are capable of constraining dictators. The American Congress may yet constrain Trump; the Russian Duma cannot constrain Putin. Trump has already lost one election; but Putin never does. When we look to identify tyrants, or politicians in danger of becoming tyrants, we need to focus on how effectively they are able to subvert these institutions by means of the personalisation of power.

What distinguishes the strongmen from the populists who pretend to be strong, the posers from the real tyrants? There are six key questions for us to consider.

First, does the ruler have personal control over the state security apparatus?

If Trump is elected, he will be commander-in-chief, but that does not mean much in practice. Tyrants need deep and direct control over the armed forces and police. In historical regimes, this typically involved personal control of fortifications and the circulation of weapons. The Second Amendment to the US constitution was designed as an obstacle against tyranny. If Trump really wants to become a tyrant, he’ll need to take away the American people’s guns. And if he does that, he might just find more bullets buzzing past his ear.

Second, does the ruler possess a personal militia?

The Greek tyrants had bodyguards, the Roman emperors had the Praetorian Guard, Hitler had the SS and Saddam Hussein had the Special Republican Guard. Dictators try to ‘coup-proof’ their regimes by arming loyalists, sponsoring rival mercenary groups (think Putin’s relationship with the Wagner mercenary company) and cutting the flow of resources to the regular army. Even if Trump wanted to build such a militia, he has a long way to go, even after one term in office. The rag-tag bunch of rioters who assaulted the Capitol in 2021 are not going to cut it. A real coup requires a few more tanks on the lawn.

Third, does the ruler determine military and civil appointments?

The American President has significant powers of patronage when it comes to appointments. The right to appoint Supreme Court justices is one contentious issue. But to become a tyrant, a president would need to gain significant influence over the career prospects of military officers and government appointees. There is nothing to stop a Trump appointee to the Supreme Court from defying the president, since the appointment is for life and cannot easily be rescinded. Tyrants don’t lose elections, and they are not convicted of crimes. If they are, they are no longer tyrants.

Fourth, are legislative bodies genuinely deliberative institutions or mere ‘rubber stamps’?

A genuinely deliberative institution permits the airing of differing opinions. A rubber stamp body does not. Debate still happens, but the limits of that debate are carefully proscribed. Even if Trump wins in November, it is unlikely that he will obtain sufficient control over Congress to overawe all resistance.

Fifth, is the ruler able to dominate patronage networks within the state?

Tyrants do not rule on their own. All rulers depend on an inner circle of supporters and advisors. This was true even of small and relatively simple states such as those of ancient Greece. But, in a tyranny, the elite is entirely dependent on the tyrant for their continuing access to the good things of the state. He is their great and ultimate patron, in the model of Henry VIII of England or Louis XIV of France. Trump likes to mimic such a court society and his family play a noticeably prominent role in politics. But to create a tyranny he will have to eliminate independent power bases both within his own party, the government machinery and society at large.

Finally, is the ruler able to eliminate or exile rivals?

Tyrants are rulers who have personalised power to such an extent that they cannot be ousted by the inner elite. The only way to remove a tyrant is by means of assassination, domestic insurgency or foreign invasion. The tyrants’ rivals are divided: they depend upon the tyrant for their safety and status, fear demotion from the inner circle and are engaged in a savage battle for the tyrant’s favour. The court society of the tyrant is a ring of flatterers, sycophants and informers. No one is safe, not even close family members or holders of great offices of state. Arguably, an American president could, as part of his official duties, order a SEAL team to kill his rivals and still be immune from prosecution. But such a provision is not uncommon in non-tyrannical societies. The mark of a true tyrant is effective immunity in every capacity, official or unofficial, since no law at all can touch him. Tyrants do not have lengthy court battles, because they never need to go to court.

Trump is clearly not a tyrant yet. Will he become one? American institutions are stronger than many of the prophets of doom have assumed. They may yet be weakened. The biggest threat to democracy is not Trump just now, but rather factionalism and political polarisation. The lesson of history is that, as often as not in these circumstances, the leading demagogues at the start do not in the end get to become tyrants. The winner in the battle for supreme power is often someone entirely unexpected.

Trump, ever the opportunist and survivor, has exhibited considerable talent in exploiting and worsening the divisions in society. Yet, on the other hand, those who have called wolf and cried ‘tyrant’ have hardly acted responsibly either. Worst of all, they have prevented clear and objective thinking on the threat posed by real tyrants (the Putins and Xis of this world). Americans must reject demagoguery in all its forms. They must face the problems that divide them honestly and with a spirit of forgiveness and understanding for all our sakes.

Author

Edmund Stewart