Politics

Dominic Cummings and Boris Johnson should learn from Aristotle

Aristotle believed that if a rhetorician’s actions didn’t support their words, they would lose credibility

May 28, 2020
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Dominic Cummings is not usually a man who fails in the art of political persuasion. In recent years, he appeared unstoppable in his quest to pierce the Westminster bubble, and for a time, with victory after victory, he persuasively did—even if he left a clutter of controversies in his wake.

But since news broke of Cummings’s multiple trips during lockdown, the nation has not restrained itself from letting him know what it makes of his behaviour: his neighbours, in a now-infamous video, heckled the adviser, branding him a “hypocrite.” Integrity, conviction, respect and leading by example have always been important characteristics in leadership, but especially in politics. Coronavirus has now made those characteristics no longer just important—they are as critical as oxygen is to breath, as people listen to and watch members of the government advising us all to "Stay alert, control the virus, save lives."

More than 2,000 years ago, Aristotle outlined a formula on how to master the art of persuasion in his treatise Rhetoric. One of the key tools that Aristotle identified was ethos—a set of beliefs and ideas that the rhetorician lives by which grounds their moral character. Aristotle believed that if a rhetorician’s actions didn’t support their words, they would lose credibility. This would ultimately weaken their argument and in turn, their character. The Cummings scandal is unique because he is not an elected official, nor is he a public representative—he is simply an operator behind the Downing Street door, a man who is deeply tied to Boris Johnson. Johnson, meanwhile, is the popularly elected rhetorician, yet any damaging behaviour displayed by Cummings directly damages Johnson’s ethos and credibility as if he himself were the perpetrator.

In Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, the philosopher discusses the concept of “utility friendship,” which appears to be the type of relationship that Cummings and Johnson have. Aristotle argued that this friendship, based on mutual benefit from common association, is inferior to the friendships of pleasure and virtue. This can lead to one person willing to act in the other person’s best interests—regardless of their own welfare. In this case, the relationship between Cummings and Johnson appears to be mutually dependable to a certain degree. Johnson’s decision not to sack Cummings enables Cummings to keep his job and administrate his long-held radical agenda through Johnson, while Johnson continues to enjoy basking in his political showman glory without expending too much effort in the everyday details. Can Johnson envisage surviving as prime minister without him, and is he worried that the removal of Cummings would reveal him to be a political husk? We can already see from recent polling that Johnson’s popularity rating has plunged by 20 points. Johnson will undoubtedly have much more to lose from this utility friendship than Cummings in both the short and long term. Is it worth it?

When given the opportunity to provide a statement about the story, Cummings appeared instead dismissive, suggesting that the media had misrepresented both it and him. He didn’t apologise and instead sought sympathy for the predicament he was in. But according to Aristotle in Rhetoric, persuasion cannot occur in the absence of emotion. People are moved to action by how a speaker makes them feel—and the feeling from the nation, crucially from people who don’t usually care or follow politics, is overwhelmingly outrage and distrust. Cummings is unable to convincingly persuade the nation this time round because coronavirus has made the personal political. Each of us has had to drastically change how we live our lives, as instructed by Cummings, Johnson and the government, for the benefit of the greater good and society at large. Some of us have suffered more than others and have experienced trauma and loss. Many of us have avoided travel even at the cost of missing the funerals of loved ones. Such is the hurt and betrayal felt by the nation that many have written letters to Cummings, including one mother who lost her son. But this effort to emotionally translate and express our anger at Cummings for his behaviour feels like a one-way street; our voices remain unacknowledged and unheard.

People felt compassion and concern for Johnson when he was hospitalised with coronavirus. He was suffering from the very condition that has detained the nation, and many were moved when he responded with sincerity and gratitude for the care he received. In contrast, we have seen no emotional response from Cummings. For a man so obsessed with politics, he fails to communicate why it captivates him so much—is it just a game of conquest, or does he want to improve people’s lives?

Aristotle’s wisdom is as insightful and beneficial today as it was 2,000 years ago. In our reality television political age where likability, click-ability and popularity have become secondary to trust, respectability and genuine authenticity, coronavirus and the Cummings crisis have reconnected us to our vital human values and what we want our democracy to be and feel like going forward. The grand irony to all of this is that Cummings and Johnson have ancient history and classics degrees. If only they had put it to good use from the very beginning.