Sir Keir Starmer, the brand new British Prime Minister, has a powerful CV: he has been a lawyer, a former Director of Public Prosecutions and a former Shadow Minister for Brexit. As an institution insider who knows the centres of power, he is not any novice on the subject of leadership. But that doesn’t necessarily make him an excellent leader, and even suggest that he has the potential to be one. Being a member of a privileged elite may get you a dream job, however it doesn’t mean you might be good at it.
Our ancient Welsh ancestors knew this well and told stories to show bad uses of power and promote good ones. My research has shown. Starmer could do much worse than the Four Branches of the Mabinogion from Welsh mythology during his first weeks in office. From these cleverly crafted tales of rule, he could learn quite a bit about how he should behave as head of presidency. And, crucially, how he shouldn’t.
English translations of the Four Branches and 7 other independent stories are present in two medieval manuscripts – The White Book of Rhydderch (around 1350) and The Red Book of Hergest (around 1382) – appeared as a part of Lady Charlotte Guests Mabinogion (1847–1849). She was an English aristocrat and the primary editor of the Mabinogion in modern print format.
Unlike the opposite stories in Guest's compendium, the tales of Pwyll, Branwen, Manawydan and Math are a part of a cycle of interwoven tales. Although they’re medieval compositions, they seem like based on older material and set in pre-Roman times.
By weaving magical practices and supernatural encounters into stories about prehistoric ruling elites, their conflicts, crimes, transgressions and acts of redemption, the Four Branches are sometimes seen as traces of a pre-Christian mythology native to Britain.
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At least one scholar has suggested that the Four Branches are a sort of Handbook for Princes. It's not hard to see why. Each story within the cycle incorporates examples of bad and good rule and their consequences.
The fourth branch tells of the nephews of a ruler, Math, who rape their uncle's servant, Goewin. The terrible effects of their corruption spread virally across two kingdoms, bringing betrayal, humiliation, murder, and war.
But there may be also good leadership. Math imposes harsh, magical penance on his nephews and takes responsibility for what happened to Goewin. Rather than seeing his nephews' punishment as fulfilling the demands of justice, he takes the burden of reparation upon himself, offers to marry the abused woman and hands over power over his kingdom to her.
This suggests a belief that if you hold power, it’s best to take responsibility not just for your individual actions, but in addition for the actions of those you lead, whether members of the family or officials. Unfortunately, nothing seems farther from the blame and shame culture of contemporary British politics.
While the Math and Goewin case is essentially the most dramatic and shocking lesson within the exercise of power within the 4 branches of presidency, it will not be the one story that would give the brand new Prime Minister food for thought.
In the primary branch we meet Pwyll, Lord of Dyfed. He makes various mistakes because of poor judgement and impetuous actions. The consequences of those are far-reaching and affect the following generation. His first mistake is that he disregards hunting etiquette and allows his hounds to eat a stag killed by one other king's pack. The insulted monarch seems to be Arawn, ruler of Annwfn (the Otherworld).
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To make amends for his behavior, Pwyll must trade places with Arawn for a 12 months and a day and defeat his sworn enemy in single combat. When he finally returns to his own court, having paid the worth, he finds that his subjects didn’t miss him because Arawn, in his form, was a significantly better ruler than he was. Better because he was more generous and more willing to totally share the fun and sorrows of his people.
But Pwyll doesn’t learn his lesson and stays a person who acts and speaks without considering. After a magical encounter with the mysterious Rhiannon, the 2 determine to marry. A feast is thrown at her father's court to have a good time, however the man she rejected as a suitor shows up. Without considering, Pwyll welcomes him and offers him all the pieces in his power. Of course, he asks for Rhiannon's hand. She then has to avoid wasting herself by tricking him.
Gwawl, the unlucky suitor, is trapped in a sack and must negotiate his way out by retracting his claim to Rhiannon. Pwyll, still an unwise and ruthless ruler, allows his men to beat Gwawl while he’s within the sack and unable to defend himself.
In the third branch, this improper behavior proves fatal to his widow and her son Pryderi, when their land is cursed and their crops destroyed by a wizard who has made himself the avenger of Gwawl.
wisdom
The Mabinogion could remind the brand new Prime Minister that true leadership requires not only the exercise of power, but in addition the wisdom to make use of it properly, the humility to learn from mistakes, and the courage to take responsibility for one's own actions and people of 1's subordinates.
As Starmer navigates the complex political landscape, these old narratives could function a priceless compass, ensuring that his time in office is marked by justice, compassion and a real commitment to the great of the country.
image credit : theconversation.com