Political Campaigning Through the Ages

As we approach another highly charged election season, expect a wave of campaign messages to inundate every screen and inbox. It’s interesting to note that despite the arrival of new technologies, political campaigning strategies have seen little change over the past two millennia.

Take, for instance, 64 BC when Marcus Tullius Cicero, a renowned speaker in the Roman Republic, sought the consulship—essentially Rome’s equivalent to a modern presidency. His younger brother, Quintus, penned straightforward and pragmatic advice on how to secure a victory. A translation of this correspondence was published by Princeton University Press in 2012, titled How to Win Elections: An Ancient Guide for Modern Politicians. The title might not be glamorous, but it gets the point across.

“Quintus didn’t instruct Cicero to preach ideology; rather, he emphasized the importance of building a majority,” the essence of effective political messaging even today.

Quintus advised Cicero to treat every public appearance as if everything hinged on that single moment. Nowadays, this caution rings even louder—one misstep caught on camera can haunt a candidate indefinitely.

He outlined the essential coalition that a successful candidate must cultivate, urging Cicero to prioritize key supporters: “people holding public contracts” and “business leaders.” He reminded Cicero not to overlook those “special interests” backing him. Quintus also highlighted retail politics, encouraging Cicero to cultivate connections with “young folks eager to learn” and to value “faithful friends who stand by you.” It’s fascinating to think how relevant this advice remains: government contractors, business influence, and a loyal core team are still crucial today.

Additionally, Quintus shared a timeless political advising gem: “Recoup your debts.”

“Now is the moment to extend every favor,” he urged. “Don’t miss chances to remind those indebted to you that it’s time to repay.” For those who aren’t in debt, he advised letting them know that timely assistance can, in turn, be reciprocated.

This sentiment isn’t new; anyone involved in politics today understands that it often comes down to a smile and a firm handshake.

He insisted that Cicero must garner backing from the “nobility” and the “privileged,” including past consuls. Replace “aristocrats” with terms like megadonors or influential figures (think of folks like Elon Musk or Mark Zuckerberg). The same goes for “consuls,” which can be substituted for former governors or senators. Candidates are still eager to win over the power brokers of yesteryear.

Then there’s the strategic directive to exploit the scandals of opponents. Quintus presented Cicero with the misdeeds surrounding rivals like Antony and Catiline, encouraging him to capitalize on those controversies. Modern history echoes this too—recall figures like Gary Hart or John Edwards—scandals continue to be a weapon in political warfare.

Quintus cautioned Cicero about his foes and potential errors: “With so many adversaries, there’s no room for mistakes. We must conduct a faultless campaign with utmost diligence.” Political animosity didn’t originate with 24-hour news cycles; Cicero had his own version of it, which some might term “Cicero confusion syndrome.”

The tactical breakdown of his campaign revolved around two key efforts: controlling allies and swaying the public. For organizations Cicero had previously aided, Quintus advised pressure: “If they wish for your favorable view in the future, this is their moment to repay their political debt.” He narrowed down the art of garnering votes to three fundamental elements: “favor, hope, and personal connection.”

Now we reach what Quintus deemed the most crucial aspect of campaigning: fostering goodwill and igniting hope.

“Instill hope and goodwill toward yourself,” he encouraged Cicero while cautioning him not to box himself in with exact promises. He advised him to deliver reassuring words: “Inform the Senate that you will safeguard its ‘privileges and powers.'” Tell the business and wealthy constituents that you assure them of “stability and peace.” And remind the common citizens that you have consistently championed their interests.

Ultimately, Quintus didn’t mold Cicero into a doctrinal preacher; he taught him how to gather a majority. Cicero achieved victory, garnering more votes than anyone else in the running. Subsequently, the Romans referred to him as the “father of his country”—a title that resonates with modern views of George Washington. Tragically, both Quintus and Cicero met their ends during the civil turmoil of 43 BC.

Yet, their fates don’t diminish the relevance of Quintus’ advice. It continued to resonate because it encapsulated enduring truths about politics: ambition, coalition-building, vanity, fear, flattery, and the relentless quest for advantage.

Though tactics and environments may alter, the strategic core has remained the same. Who will leave such a legacy in our contemporary era?