The role of visual metonymy in leadership symbolism: Mapping its dynamics through the Sphinx

Leadership symbolism, metonymy, and political cartoons: An overview

The paper is situated at the novel intersection of the literatures on leadership symbolism, metonymy, and political cartoons. The leadership literature has long recognized the relevance of symbols to the field, including early discussion of how transformational leaders use persuasive symbols to influence subordinates (e.g. Bass, 1985; Burns, 1978). As of the late 1980s, culture studies rendered symbols integral to making meaning, a process central to leadership (Fineman et al., 2009/1993; Gabriel, 2000; Sinha, 2010). Several works served to popularize the implication of leadership with symbolism. For example, Schein’s (1992) text on culture bound leadership with symbols, which were accorded a key role in the discussion of artifacts. Focusing on political leadership, Gardner (1990) forwarded two prominent themes pertaining to effective leaders: they recognize that they are symbols and they use symbols effectively. He repeatedly stressed, “Leaders are inevitably symbols” (18, 21). He also asserted the relevance of symbols to leaders, whether powerful symbols of office (e.g. the White House, the Seal) or those of a shared culture. Symbols serve the display of authority, status, and power often invested in leadership and are used by leaders in a “performance art” (Fineman et al., 2009/1993). Symbols continue to be important in the literature on political leadership since leaders engage with “noble myths of origin,” their respective symbols, and “iconic places” (like Mt Rushmore in the USA) that remind people of who they are as a nation (Cronin, 2008: 462). Symbolic structures are pertinent to myths and stories of leadership as society wrestles with identity (Gabriel, 2000; Islam, 2009). They also play an important role in (re)interpreting rebel leadership (Edwards, 2016). So the concern with symbols is not confined to those embodied or used by leaders, but also extends to how they come to signify leadership (Riad, 2011).

Early work on symbols examined leadership through metaphor (e.g. Tierney, 1989). Since then there has been growing interest in metaphor in leadership research. Studies have outlined metaphors that offer insight into forms of being a leader and the dynamics of engaging in leadership (Alvesson and Spicer, 2011). Textual analysis has also offered insight into the role of verbal metaphors in shaping transformational leadership and charisma (Amernic et al., 2007) as well as how they are used by CEOs to explain failures (Tourish and Hargie, 2012). Meanwhile, metonymy has only received sporadic attention. For example, Amernic and Craig (2006) note how a leader can metonymically stand for their organization, and Coulson and Oakley (2003) describe how a leader stands for their nation (both part for whole, see below). So in contrast to the attention accorded to metaphor, metonymy is often overlooked (Matus, 1988; Runia, 2014).

Accordingly, this paper draws on visual metonymy to offer a new perspective on the dynamics of symbols as they pertain to political leadership. Drawing from Kellerman and Webster (2001: 493, 496), the work examines three facets. First is leadership by individuals or entities at the national level, i.e. of nation-states. Second is leadership by the people, whereby “the very principles of democracy extend rights and responsibilities through which we are empowered – even expected – to exercise leadership.” The third facet is of “nation-as-leader,” through which a nation “is presented as a leader in its own right, as an entity that can and should, in and of itself, play a leadership role in world affairs.” The paper explores the role of metonymy across these facets. It uses the term “leader/ship” to refer to an individual or entity in a formal position or role, and the term “leadership” to indicate a relational process (Wood, 2005).

Metonymy is one of the classical tropes, recurring verbal or visual motifs, or figures of speech (words used in a different sense from their literal meaning). It replaces a sign or word with another signifier associated with it (Lakoff, 1987). Unlike metaphor, which relates attributes across domains (e.g. man is from a different domain to lion in this man is a lion), metonymy establishes relations of contiguity between things: a metonym is derived from and refers to the same domain as the sign it replaces. For example, bottle is of the same domain as the drink in drank the whole bottle (Deignan, 2005; Forceville, 2009). In effect, metonymy operates by “proxy” through its “proximity” (Matus, 1988: 305).

The literature features established forms of verbal metonymy (e.g. Deignan, 2005; Forceville, 2009; Lakoff and Johnson, 1980). Thing-for-its-idea is a form of metonymy whereby tangible objects stand for intangible ideas (or actions) associated with them (Burke, 1969), rendering abstract notions into concrete form, e.g. a red flag for danger (Riad and Vaara, 2011). In part-for-whole, part of an object or entity stands for its entirety, e.g. hands for person in a kitchen hand. Such substitution is often termed synecdoche, a well-recognized variant of metonymy (Forceville, 2009; Jakobson, 1956). In entity-for-those-involved, the whole stands for a part (people or subsets), e.g. an organization for its managers in the company decided to shift (Cornelissen, 2008). Forms of metonymy combine to generate composite imagery, and metonymy also interacts with metaphor to yield complex forms of expression (Dirven, 2003; Ruiz de Mendoza and Masegosa, 2014). Examples of metonymy–metaphor combinations include metaphor-from-metonymy and metonymy-based metaphor (Deignan, 2005).

Whereas metaphor tends to “proclaim itself,” metonymy is subtle, its role “disguised” by familiarity (Matus, 1988: 307), and this is particularly the case with its visual forms. Studies on multimodal discourse (e.g. Forceville, 2009; Sadler and Haskins, 2005) have started to address visual metonymy in cultural representation. Yet, the oversight merits attention since metonymy matters: it permeates sign systems and media, and so shapes meaning, social realities, and respective practices (Lakoff, 1987; Lakoff and Johnson, 1980). Metonymy also plays an important role in symbolism and cultural identity, both generally (Riad and Vaara, 2011), and specifically as they pertain to political cartoons.

Symbolism is at the heart of cartoons. The latter, in turn, are pertinent to political and cultural analysis (Kemnitz, 1973; Medhurst and De Souza, 1981; Streicher, 1965). Cartoons are an expression of culture but also shape it; so their orientation is both graphic and discursive (Banta, 2003; Bostdorff, 1987). As with the literature on leadership, metaphor in political cartoons has been subject of study (e.g. Bounegro and Forceville, 2011; El Refaie, 2003), but less so metonymy. Early studies engaged with synecdoche, including the role of caricature in representing a “social type” (Bostdorff, 1987; Streicher, 1965), and the latter has been explored through metonymy in recent work (Banta, 2003; Negro Alousque, 2013). Cartoons rose to international prominence following the murder of cartoonists and journalists at Charlie Hebdo in 2015. Visual metonymy offered an evocative form of mass response to the event through images of a pen (or pencil), deployed to affirm the metonymic expression, the pen is mightier than the sword, writing is more powerful than fighting. Cartoons have always engaged with leaders of the day. So, one finds research on particular leaders in cartoons (e.g. Calogero and Mullen, 2008; Redekop, 2014); yet, studies centering on a specific leadership symbol are scarce. This paucity has constrained our knowledge of the dynamics of symbolism, in particular the multiplicity in meaning and relevance of a symbol (Gabriel, 2000), its implication with variegated notions of leadership, and its change over time.

Methodology

To address the theoretical aims, the paper engages with the following empirical question: What forms of visual metonymy feature through the Sphinx in significations of political leadership by individuals or entities, by the people (of a nation) or by a nation (of other nations)? Following an analysis of the Sphinx in cultural history, the paper specifically focuses on three subquestions: How are these visual metonymies manifested in political cartoons? How do they interact with metaphor? And what are their discursive effects?

For a start, why turn to the Sphinx in this study? First, the Sphinx is one of the oldest symbols of leadership and so enables analysis of a signifier that has endured over time. It has also been relevant to studying symbolism more broadly. Hegel (1975) designated the Sphinx as a “symbol of the symbolic.” Regier (2004: 154) later rendered it into a “symbol of symbols” to assert its superlative rank as a quintessential specimen of a species. The Sphinx is specifically pertinent to analyzing visual metonymy in cartoons since they often rely on symbols to unify a people (by emphasizing their distinction or evoking a public memory), to condense the history or significance of an event, or to emphasize personal characteristics, such as ability or age of a leader (Medhurst and De Souza, 1981). At the height of what was termed Egypt’s “leaderless revolution,” the Sphinx, an ancient symbol of leadership, featured extensively in political cartoons as of January 2011 and for many months thereafter. Its deployment manifested the above themes on symbols and so offered the opportunity for a systematic study of visual metonymy and leadership that takes into account the sociocultural and historical development of metonymic forms and their current relevance (see Table 1).

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Table 1.

Forms of visual metonymy relevant to leadership symbolism.

Form		Subcategory		Examples
			Cultural history	Punch cartoons	21st Century cartoons
A. Thing for its idea
Artifacts: statues, monuments, buildings	1.	Artifact for authority or position of leadership	Headdress for pharaoh; Sphinx for a leader’s reign	Sphinx for British leader/ship	Sphinx for president or presidency
	2.	Monument or building for leadership type or form	Sphinx for divine authority, pharaonic right of rule	Westminster for British leadership and democracy	Sphinx for pharaoism
	3.	Venerated physical image for human or/and divine	Sphinx for Horus; Sphinx for divine; sphinxes for pharaohs	Venerated statue (e.g. on pedestal) for leader-sphinx	Venerated statue for leader (as Sphinx)
	4.	Broken image or monument for destruction or decay	Sphinx’s nose for destruction (iconoclasm, vandalism)	Sphinx’s nose for vandalism	Sphinx (whole or nose) for decay and iconoclasm
	5.	Historical artifact for longevity or endurance	Sphinx for endurance; Egypt past extended into present	Sphinx (or replacement) for stability or endurance	Sphinx for endurance; past extended into present
	6.	Monument or artifact for nation, identity, sovereignty	Sphinx for Egypt (as nation) Stamps or coins for Egypt	Sphinx for Egyptian independence, repatriation	Sphinx for Egypt (as nation)
	7.	Artifact from elsewhere for power in/over that place	Sphinx in Europe (statue, medal) for Egypt (as place)	Sphinx (or replacement) for British rule of Egypt
Body or physical feature	8.	Head for human intelligence	Sphinx head for intelligence	Head for human intelligence	Head for human intelligence
	9.	Mouth for silence/voice or affect (e.g. smile)	Mouth for silence or voice	Mouth for silence, enigma; Smile for success, derision	Mouth for voiceSmile for success, victory
	10.	Eye for vision or affect (e.g. teary eyes)	Eye for vision and surveying	Eye for vision; wink for agreement, subversion	Eye for vision; teary eyes for affect, sadness
	11.	Hands for ownership or threat		Hand of leader, lion or Sphinx for ownership	Sphinx paws for threat (e.g. claws)
	12.	Physical feature or object for group or affiliation		Hair style (bob) for flapperFez for ‘local’	Beard for Islamist affiliationCap for army affiliation
B. Part for whole	1.	Head for a person in leadership	Queen Victoria’s head on medal, leader head on Sphinx	Head for leader/ship (on Sphinx), person or entity	Head for leader/ship (on Sphinx), person or entity
	2.	Artifact, monument for place	Sphinx for Egypt (place)	Sphinx for Egypt (place)Westminster for Britain	Sphinx for Egypt (place)
	3.	Object for its entity			Tank for army
C. One for all	1.	Leader for nation		Cromer for BritainNaguib for Egypt
	2.	Leader for leadership style or regime	Queen Victoria for British monarchy, imperial rule	Kitchener for British authority	Mubarak, Morsi for their parties or for pharaoism
	3.	One citizen for all others	One person for all in group memorials (using Sphinx)	Flapper for British women; Man in fez for local people	Bearded figure for Islamists; Capped figure for army
	4.	One voting artifact for all		One vote, ballot box for all	One vote, ballot box for all
D. Entity for those involved	1.	Nation for its leader(s)		Egypt verbal for Cleopatra
	2.	Nation for its people		Egypt for EgyptiansBritain for British people	Egypt for Egyptians

As a theory-building study, it started by examining the Sphinx in texts on historical artifacts so as to identify and classify forms of metonymy (pertaining to leaders or forms of leadership) in cultural history. The analysis then drew on these significations to examine the Sphinx in political cartoons across two phases. First, the work traced metonymies pertaining to the Sphinx across cartoons in modern history (19th–20th centuries). It used the archives of Punch, a British magazine of satire that ran as of 1841, a leading periodical that introduced the term cartoon (Banta, 2003). Punch has been relevant to historical, cultural, and international research, and it is pertinent here due to Britain’s colonization of Egypt. As with inductive research on cartoons (e.g. Bostdorff, 1987), this initial phase in theory building worked with a limited number of cartoons (12 from 1876–1950) that represented milestones in significations of leadership that use the Sphinx.

Second, the study returned to the 21st century to gauge visual metonymy in a larger corpus of 121 political cartoons that featured the Sphinx as of January 2011 (when the uprising started in Egypt) and over the next two years. The cartoons were identified through online archives, syndicates, and search engines. The images were checked to avoid duplication and manually coded (see below). Nonpolitical cartoons featuring the Sphinx were excluded. This stage in the study used the previously identified categories of metonymy and examined their pervasiveness as well as changes in their signification.

The Sphinx, leadership, and visual metonymy: From history to political cartoons

The Great Sphinx was carved out of limestone rock on Egypt’s Giza plateau around 4500 years ago. With a height of 65 feet and length of 238 feet, it is the largest known statue in the world. There are no records from its time that specify its name, date, or purpose (Zivie-Coche, 2004). Most archaeologists attribute the Sphinx to Khafra, the Old Kingdom Pharaoh of the second pyramid (Lehner, 1997; Wilkinson, 2010). One interpretation is of the god Horus, so the pharaoh’s “divine guise,” “Horus on earth” was “incarnate” in the Sphinx as its living image (A3) (Zivie-Coche, 2004).

To us, the Sphinx’s symbolism marks the first blending of man with lion through the confluence of visual metonymy and metaphor: human head for intelligence (A8; thing for its idea)—specifically a pharaoh’s (part for whole B1) as designated by its headdress (A1; artifact for leadership position)—and the lion’s body as metaphor for strength and power (of a given leader/ship). Since its location is often marked in relation to the pyramids, the Sphinx has been considered the symbolic “guardian of the Giza necropolis” (Wilkinson, 2010: 91). A long-standing but contested interpretation, this metaphor is founded on metonymic “proxy” by “proximity” (Matus, 1988) and eyes for vision or surveillance (A10). In due course, the Sphinx symbolized leadership and endless small Sphinxes signified pharaohs or queens (A1).

By the Middle Kingdom, a millennium after its carving, the Sphinx was worshipped as a god named Haremakhet (A3). Between its front paws is the Dream Stele, a tablet that tells how young Thutmose rested in the Sphinx’s shadow and dreamt that “this august god was speaking with his own mouth, as a father speaks to his son.” The Sphinx gives him “kingship on earth” and asks him to clear the sand that had drowned it over the years (in Zivie-Coche (2004: 48–49). The mouth of stone had rendered the Sphinx metonymic of silence (A9); yet, here its voice also mattered as it authorized the ascension of Thutmose IV as Pharaoh of Egypt in c. 1400, signifying his legitimacy (A1) (arguably in the face of contestation). The pharaoh has the sand removed and depicts himself offering sacrifices to this god. Both pharaoh and god depended on one another, in what could be an early example of a leader “using a symbol” (or resurrecting it) in a new role that enables legitimation of power.

In 1818, three millennia later, the Dream Stele would be excavated in the reign of Muhammad Ali (1805–1848), an Ottoman Vali who ruled for 43 years and is often described as the “maker of modern Egypt” (Fahmy, 2002). At the centenary of his death, a “letter” is drafted from the Sphinx to Cairo by Mahmud Taymur in al-Hilal. Again the Sphinx’s voice matters (“The Sphinx today will speak”); increasingly the vigilant vision of its eyes (A10) enable it to testify as the metaphorical witness (“I saw him descending on you”).

The statue had acquired the name Sphinx about, 2000 years after its carving, probably in reference to the Greek mythical figure (Regier, 2004), a monster (with a woman’s head, lion’s body, and eagle’s wings) that posed travelers with riddles and devoured them if they failed to answer. In due course, her riddling rubbed off on the Sphinx at Giza in Western narratives. In Arabic, its name is Abu el Haul, father of dread or The Terrifying One.

The Sphinx is not only subject of restorations; its broken nose has been rendered into a space of conjecture on acts of destruction. The nose bears signs that rods were hammered through it, indicating human, not only natural, defacement (Lehner, 1997). Writers associate the damage with iconoclasm (A4), but El Daly (2005) is critical of the dominant narrative that Arabs “were bent on destroying pagan monuments of pre-Islamic cultures.” Some approached the Sphinx as an “oracle” (“it spoke like humans”) or with astronomic or esthetic interests. But he also discusses how practices of veneration had angered a Sufi Sheikh (in 1378) who disfigured its face (and was hanged for it). Writers report other destruction: tourists collecting memorabilia and cannonball fired by Napoleon’s soldiers (Zivie-Coche, 2004). The latter is now folklore, but Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt had played a crucial part in recalling the Sphinx.

Often described as a “watershed event” in Egypt’s history, this was “the first imperialist incursion into the Middle East in modern times” (Cole, 2007; Jeffreys, 2003: 1). Napoleon arrived in 1798 and, along with troops, brought more than 160 scholars and scientists to record knowledge on Egypt. Stranded there for three years after the British destroyed their fleet (Cole, 2007), the French scholars studied Egypt extensively, producing the substantial Description de L’Egypte. The subsequent influx of knowledge and ancient artifacts from Egypt into Europe ignited popular interest (Jeffreys, 2003; Riad, 2008). Ancient sphinxes were taken overseas, haggled over for price (Reid, 2002), and new ones were endlessly reproduced to commemorate various leaders or political constituents.

In considering “leaders using symbols” in relation to “nation-as-leader,” one can note the metonymic deployment of the Sphinx in the contest for international leadership. Sphinx reproductions were implicated in French and British imperial competition (A7). For example, Sphinxes were used in Paris to mark Napoleon’s victories (including Egypt) and alongside Cleopatra’s needle in London to commemorate British victories in Egypt. In these contexts, the Sphinx not only stood for Egypt, but also symbolized a powerful imperial identity. By presenting an object out of its context (Runia, 2014), it becomes metonymic of an empire with the power to reach out and appropriate the symbols of distant places to serve the center (Riad, 2008). In 1882, the British won a battle in Egypt which started 70 years of occupation. The Egypt Medal bore the head of Queen Victoria on the obverse (B1); the reverse featured a sphinx. Symbolic of Egypt (B2), it was framed and claimed (A7). Since the metonymic power of monuments can be manipulated (Gough and Morgan, 2004), locating Egypt on a medal through the Sphinx represented transferability and metonymy of possession.

Eventually the Sphinx also came to signify Egyptians’ empowerment and ascent. The Revolution of 1919 against British occupation appealed to ancient Egypt, deploying its artifacts toward a “reawakening” of national identity (Reid, 2002). Egyptian pursuits of ancient Egypt represented longing for a time when it was “admired, not subdued by foreign powers” (Haikal, 2003: 127). So Egypt’s Egyptian Revival, or pharaonicism, hearkened to a golden age (Anderson, 1983; Smith, 2003). A monument stands as an abstraction that valorizes a nation (Gough and Morgan, 2004). As metonymy of the past, the Sphinx integrated Egypt’s past greatness into its present (A6), serving contemporary politics of recuperation. The Sphinx also metonymically served pride of place in a world of nations. As of 1867, it appeared on Egypt’s stamps (Regier, 2004; Reid, 2002), signifying Egypt to the world (B2). Since 1956, it has circulated as the head on coins, and it had appeared much earlier on paper money (now on Egypt’s £E100 note). In coining the Sphinx, it symbolized Egypt’s standing, its sovereignty above and beyond a contemporary sovereign. The 1919 Revolution led to Britain’s recognition of Egyptian independence in 1922 as a Kingdom, but its forces remained till after the 1952 Revolution.

Visual metonymy and leadership through the Sphinx in Punch

Turning to Punch, the following presents how forms of visual metonymy (Table 1) manifest in significations of leadership and the ways in which they interact with metaphor. The section examines milestones in deployments of the Sphinx and the symbolic motifs in which it is included.

Leadership with/as the Sphinx: facing, replacing and refacing the Sphinx. In Image 1 (11 December 1875), one notes a nose tap, a wink, and a smile shared between the Sphinx and British Prime Minister Disraeli. Having just bought 44% of shares in the Suez Canal Company for Britain, the latter is shown holding the key to the Suez Canal and thereby India. (Key is for access, a metaphor premised on part-for-whole metonymy in which key stands for door.) The Sphinx’s wink is subversive of its vigilant gaze (A10) and its smile is approving (A9), rendering it complicit. Disraeli taps his nose, signaling a shared secret. The tag-line, Mosé in Egitto!!! (Moses in Egypt), is the title to Rossini’s Opera. (Disraeli is the only British prime minister to date of Jewish descent.) As a visual metonym of Egypt (B2) and as its perennial witness (metaphor on A10 metonymy), the Sphinx is complicit: the shared nose-tap and wink legitimate the action. This subversion renders the metaphorical Sphinx-as-guardian as corrupt as the incumbent ruler of Egypt, Khedive Ismail.

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Image 1.

Punch Magazine Cartoon Archive.

The second cartoon (Image 2, 24 February 1876) continues the narrative on the same event. The traditional place of the Sphinx near the pyramids is now occupied by the British Lion (symbol of Great Britain), which holds the key to India and The Lion’s Share (a metaphor for extensive possession). Two dynamics are at play. The first is based on metonymy’s role in shaping presence. Metonymy works by replacement (here of the Sphinx by the Lion), offering proxy (whereby the location signifies British power in Egypt, A7). The Sphinx is an absent-presence—its exclusion lending meaning to what is included. Second, British 19th-century cartoons on foreign affairs often emphasized difference to unify the nation, “pitting the lion against the lesser animals of other nations” (Kemnitz, 1973: 90). Accordingly, the lion here is no longer part of the Egyptian Sphinx and has been detached from it. As a new, proud, and powerful owner, it looks the other way during the economic exchange. The tag-line, Gare à qui la touche! deploys the second part of “God has given it to me, beware whoever touches it,” reportedly Napoleon’s declaration of regal ownership as divine right when he took the Iron Crown of Lombardy (A1) as King of Italy in 1805.

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Image 2.

Punch Magazine Cartoon Archive.

Three quarters of a century later (25 February 1953), Punch published a cartoon (Image 3) in which the Sphinx has been reheaded. In a parody of a parody, this verso of Image 1 flips from the leader liaising with a corrupt guardian Sphinx, to the leader as Sphinx (through the head of Mohammad Naguib, Egypt’s first president). Three metonymies are at work: the Sphinx for Egypt (as nation A6), head for leader (A8), and leader for nation (C1). The hand metonymically stands for ownership (A11), reclaiming the “key” to the Suez Canal from British Foreign Secretary, Antony Eden, as he is reminded of the shared secret. The tag-line, O, Wither hast thou led me, Egypt? is from Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra. Egypt here is a verbal metonym for Cleopatra (D1) (Riad, 2011). Though Naguib was the first modern Egyptian leader signified by the Sphinx in cartoons, Disraeli had beaten him to it. So we return in time.

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Image 3.

Punch Magazine Cartoon Archive.

Reheaded with Disraeli, the Sphinx (Image 4, 15 July 1876) is on a pedestal, an offshore version. Disraeli’s second term had been dominated by the Eastern Question, the decay of the Ottoman Empire and the perceived threat that Russia and other countries would gain from its demise. He would not comment on Government’s policy, hence The Sphinx is Silent. Here the metonymic strategy of reheading (A1, B1) is deployed toward a different meaning through “linguistic anchoring” (labeling that fixes meaning of a potentially ambiguous image; El Refaie, 2003). The Sphinx stands for silence through its mouth of stone (A9).

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Image 4.

Punch Magazine Cartoon Archive.

The next cartoon features both Sphinx and Lion (Image 5, 25 November 1876) and was instigated by the actions of Turkish troops in Bulgaria. It is captioned, “Public opinion shifts on Disraeli’s Turkish policy” which had “alienated… the sympathies of the country.” The Lion symbolizes Britain, a metaphor grounded in metonymy whereby Britain stands for its people (D2). The tag-line states, No Mistake! Captioned: “Look here! I don’t understand YOU! – but it is right that you should understand ME! I don’t fight to uphold what is going on yonder!!” Juxtaposed against the Sphinx, the lion is thoroughbred and true-blood. Rather than “more,” strength and intelligence, the hybrid form here detracts from the Sphinx, so it comes across as less of a man and less of a lion. Elsewhere the Sphinx legitimated leadership, but here it undermines it. Less powerful, this Sphinx is subject to a right royal telling off.

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Image 5.

Punch Magazine Cartoon Archive.

Of leaders and democratic leadership: Silence, voice, and the shapeshifting sphinx . Three cartoons (Images 6 to 8) illustrate the symbolic implication of the Sphinx with leadership through the metonymic dynamics of silence and voice. The first (Image 6, 16 March 1895) has the caption: Little Khedive, “Tell me, Great Sphinx – Is Egypt for the Egyptians?” Though barely 18 when he became Khedive, Abbas II was not a puppet ruler: he opposed British occupation. The question of who “Egypt” is “for” poses ironic wit since “Egypt” is also a metonym for “the Egyptians” (as in Egypt’s revolt). The Sphinx stands for Egypt (B2) as well as invokes its own metaphorical role as enduring perennial witness (based on metonymies of longevity A5 and vision A10). In response to the question, the Sphinx is Silent! The linguistic anchoring is similar to previous cartoons bearing this metonymic symbolism (A9). Unlike them, however, there is no enigma in this silence: it was no secret that British occupation of Egypt set to continue—as the second caption stated.

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Image 6.

Punch Magazine Cartoon Archive.

Turning to Britain, we come to a cartoon in which a lone question mark “?” suffices as the tag-line for the absolute riddle. Image 7 (15 November 1922) features another winking and smiling Sphinx (A9, 10), a female. After WWI, with continued efforts for suffrage, acts were passed in 1918 to enable some categories of women to vote, hence the caption: The ‘Sphinx’ female voter winks enigmatically as she casts her vote for the first time in a General Election. This metaphoric riddle is both mounted on, and enabled by, metonymy of one-for-all, both citizen (C3) and vote (C4). The cartoon inscribes a flapper, a new type of 1920s women who transgressed boundaries with bobbed hair, makeup, short hemlines, and unconventional behavior like driving cars. Given the female gender and questioning, was this not a Greek Sphinx? Perhaps, but it presents features of the Sphinx of Giza: a bob (A12) in place of its headdress, the lion body stripped of wings and Westminster and Big Ben in the horizon, replacing the iconic place of the pyramids while metonymically signifying British political leadership (A2). As women transgressed boundaries of social and political leadership, boundaries of iconography appeared to follow course.

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Image 7.

Punch Magazine Cartoon Archive.

Fifty years after Abbas confronted silence in the Sphinx, the latter signifies the people’s voice, a metaphor of democratic expression based on metonymy (A9, Image 8, 11 July 1945). The flip in deployment illustrates how metonymy enables the Sphinx to symbolize opposites. Another inversion here is from the flapper-Sphinx using a ballot box to the Sphinx as ballot box. Both cartoons epitomize leadership by the people through democracy, but Image 8 also offers vivid juxtaposition of national leaders and the people’s leadership through the ballot box. The Sphinx is questioned by the candidates (Churchill, Attlee, and Sinclair) for the British postwar election of 1945. The Riddle of the Sphinx invokes the Greek connection, but the carved form and background retain it in Egypt. Unlike the Sphinx in the question posed for Egypt (Image 6), this Sphinx represents a temporary silence: with the mouth as the slot to the ballot box, voting marks on paper enter and then the people will have spoken (Attlee and the Labor party won). The enigmatic silence/speech is enabled by one-for-all metonymy, one ballot box for all, one voice for all (C4, A9).

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Image 8.

Punch Magazine Cartoon Archive.

Leadership and the Sphinx: Ownership, dispossession, and confrontation. Featuring Lord Cromer, this Sphinx is carved out of rock near the pyramids. Captioned, A Fixture, the Cromer Sphinx is both fixed at Giza and fixing British leadership in Egypt (Image 9, November 1989). Through metonymy, it signifies ownership for Britain (A7). Cromer had served as Consul-General in Egypt for a quarter century (1883–1907) hence the tag-line, Cementing British presence in Egypt. Three composite metonymies are at work: head for leader (B1), leader for nation (C1, Cromer for Britain) and monument for its place (B2, Sphinx for Egypt). This is a prime example of how metonymy serves to localize and naturalize imperial “presence” (A7), a term explicitly used to anchor this image—not simply framing and claiming Egypt for Britain through the Sphinx, but “cementing” that claim.

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Image 9.

Punch Magazine Cartoon Archive.

Turning to Image 10 (29 November 1950), we find British “presence” reverting back to the Lion. The latter could well have stood for Africa (part-for-whole metonymy) if it were not for the key “to the East” and the “notice” it receives. There is no Sphinx. It is replaced, again an absent-presence, with the metonymic effects of its exclusion according to the lion proxy from its location (A7). The flowing water (Canal or Nile) places the lion in Egypt, the latter metonymic of Africa (part-for-whole), as postwar democratic revolutions and decolonization start sweeping across the continent. People leadership features through one-for-all metonymy (C3): the “local” appears stereotypically, in potbelly and fez (A12), serving the Notice to Quit.

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Image 10.

Punch Magazine Cartoon Archive.

In the interim, Egypt and the Sphinx received other leaders from overseas. In Image 11 (23 March 1910), the Sphinx as an exotic big cat is a tempting target for President Theodore Roosevelt on safari with his son, Kermit. Hence, the caption: Mr. Roosevelt. “Steady Kermit! We must have one of these.” The third wink and smile by the Sphinx is both humoring and subversive of leader—yet another rifleman vandalizing its nose (A4). There are two captions, A Sitter; Or, Big Game to the Last and Roosevelt interferes with the Sphinx’s nose. Roosevelt had an interest in hunting, the latter a popular motif with cartoonists of the time (Redekop, 2014), hence the first caption. The second refers to the mixed reception of Roosevelt’s lecture in Egypt and its “interference” in Egyptian politics, the broken nose metonymic of vandalism by foreign powers. Through double metonymy, the Sphinx stands for Egypt (B2) and, in turn, for the Egyptians (D2). In due course, like the Sphinx, Theodore Roosevelt’s head (B1) would be carved into rock at the Mount Rushmore memorial, a salient example of a leader as a metonymic symbol of a nation (C1).

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Image 11.

Punch Magazine Cartoon Archive.

The closing cartoon returns to British leadership (Image 12, 20 September 1911): Lord Kitchener is now on his way to Egypt to take up his appointment as Agent-General. Kitchener had initially arrived in Egypt after its occupation, put in place a wide policing system, and then left for 12 years. By 1911, Kitchener had become legendary to the British, having secured control of the Sudan. As Kindred Spirits, Kitchener and the Sphinx share sublime glory of achievement and stability. The Sphinx stands for Egypt’s history of greatness, juxtaposed against a contemporary hero. In mirroring a powerful past, metonymy naturalizes imperial presence (A7). By 1914, the year WWI started, Kitchener’s moustached face above his pointing finger had appeared on recruitment posters, declaring, “Your country needs you.” Then a metonymic instance of leader as “great symbol of army and empire” (C1), Kitchener’s poster is now a “defining image” of that war and of British national identity (Eley, 2014).

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Image 12.

Punch Magazine Cartoon Archive.

Visual metonymy and leadership through the Sphinx in the 21st century

A century later, the Sphinx featured prominently in political cartoons in the wake of the January 2011 revolution in Egypt. This section addresses the pervasiveness of the metonymies identified (across 121 cartoons) and identifies shifts in metonymic signification.

The (re)production of visual metonymy in significations of leadership. As with the Punch cartoons, two prominent motifs feature the leader/ship as Sphinx or with the Sphinx. Seventy cartoons—more than half the set—feature the Sphinx reheaded with a person or entity in a position of leadership. Three metonymies (head for leader A8 and Sphinx for leadership A1 in Egypt B2) yield the metaphor of leader as Sphinx. Thirty-eight of this subset feature President Mubarak’s head (e.g. Image 13) and 12 bear the image of his successor, President Morsi. Twenty cartoons feature an entity as the Sphinx. Of the latter, 10 have the head of a generic army figure (e.g. wearing a cap) and nine of an Islamist figure (e.g. bearded). The symbolism here operates through composite metonymy: both thing-for-its-idea (A12, cap or beard) and one-for-all (C3, e.g. an individual soldier stands for all others in the army). The set of Islamist figures includes four cartoons in which one infers that the dark burqa-clad shape of the Sphinx covers a woman (A12). There are no identifiable female Sphinxes, a point to which we return.

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Image 13.

Mike Peters/King Features Syndicate.

On the other hand, 12 cartoons show a political leader confronting, or confronted by, the Sphinx: four of Mubarak (attacked by the Sphinx; Image 14), two of Obama (reflecting on or puzzled by the Sphinx) and six of Morsi (including two in which he is attacked by the Sphinx and two in which he rides it like a domestic animal). In this subset, the Sphinx is implicated in other forms of metonymy out of those discussed below.

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Image 14.

Jeff Darcy/Courtesy of Cagle Cartoons.

Twenty-five cartoons include the Sphinx for Egypt (A6) which, in turn, stands for its people (D2, nation for population) through double metonymy (seven include “Egypt” on the Sphinx for verbal anchoring). In standing for the Egyptian people, the Sphinx represents their agency (e.g. as they rise against a leader/ship or celebrate their victory).

Twenty-eight cartoons metonymically deploy the Sphinx to signify voice (A9). The western association with a riddle is limited to six. In another six, the Sphinx speaks as a leader. More broadly, the Sphinx represents the people’s voice, a metaphor (for democratic expression) based on metonymies of speech (A9) and Sphinx for Egyptians (A6, D2). In six, it signifies their communication (e.g. by holding a placard or a mobile phone connected to social networks) and in four, their voting (using a ballot box or showing an ink-stained finger). In other cartoons, it stands for “democracy” (six) through verbal anchoring. In contrast to the symbolism in historical cartoons, there are none where the Sphinx stands for silence; however, there are two in which the Sphinx is silenced: one with a taped mouth and the other with a dog cone.

Ten cartoons depict the Sphinx as witness, ranging in disposition from tearful to nonchalant (metaphor from A10 metonymy). In half (five), it is empathetic and in the other half it reacts to events through boredom (two), tiredness (two), or by covering its eyes (one). In two further cartoons the Sphinx is a guardian (e.g. protecting an egg labeled “elections”).

Turning to shapeshifting, 11 cartoons feature the Sphinx blended with other objects. In six, it bears characteristics of the Statue of Liberty (two with crown and four with torch). The visual metaphor of liberty is mounted on metonymy whereby the Sphinx stands for the Egyptian people (B2 and D2), symbolizing their leadership. The other five cartoons morph the Sphinx into an army tank. Unlike the use of its head wearing a cap (A12), here the lion body is replaced by the body of a tank as a visual metonym for the army and its controlling power (B3). The blended Sphinx offers a striking example of the role of metonymy in reshaping a symbol (Sphinx), enabling it to signify oppositional notions (both freedom and control), and stand for their different constituents over the same time period.

In 30 cartoons, a quarter of the set, the Sphinx (as leader A1 or as Egypt A6) metonymically stands for decay or deliberate destruction (A4), the opposite of the historical Sphinx as metonymic of preservation or permanence (A5). In 11, the Sphinx-as-leader is affected by natural causes: one drowning in sand, eight crumbling on its own, and two collapsing from natural disaster (earthquake, volcano). The other 19 cartoons inscribe human acts of the Sphinx’s destruction or iconoclasm. These unfold in different ways: four by destroying its nose and 15 through destruction in other forms (e.g. fracturing, demolition ball, or dislodgement toward smashing; Image 13). The subject of destruction also changes. Only three Sphinxes are labeled “Egypt” (e.g. has a nose broken from tank fire), while 16 cartoons feature the Sphinx reheaded with a leader. In the latter, deliberate destruction is not vandalism; rather, attacks on the Sphinx are metonymic of iconoclasm against leadership. Whereas the Sphinx has been subject of iconoclasm in history, the motif has not been this prominent in cartoons. To address these findings, we turn to the wider phenomenon and its cultural milieu.

Reflecting on shifts in metonymic significations of leadership. As noted above, whereas silence has been predominant in historical cartoons, none in this current set associate it with the Sphinx. The imagery resonates with the Egyptian expression, “Even the Sphinx has spoken,” which refers to an experience beyond containment through ongoing silence. Yet a more significant difference between Punch and contemporary cartoons is a change from using the Sphinx as a symbol of leader/ship legitimacy to a symbol that delegitimates leader/ships. The Cromer-Sphinx may have depicted imperial stability but the Mubarak-Sphinx signified reified longevity. (At 30 years in office, he had out-ruled Cromer but under-ruled Muhammad Ali). Unlike the Disraeli-Sphinx, the issue was not with its enigma or hybridity; rather, the term pharaoh in the Egyptian Arabic vernacular carries a negative connotation (invoked through the tyrannical pharaoh’s confrontation with Moses). Poised against global fascination with Egypt’s pharaonic history and the latter’s place in national identity, this contradictory connotation had long confronted Egyptians with a dilemma (Reid, 2002; Riad, 2008). One mode of being “moved by the past” is revolutionary, involving attempts to “burn bridges” with that past by attacking metonymies of its presence (Runia, 2014). So though Egyptians had previously embraced national pharaonicism (A6), in 2011 many had turned against the specter of leader pharaoism. International media chipped in with this (re)interpretation: “pharaoh” was reiterated on television, online, and in print.

So in signifying the leader/ship as Sphinx, international cartoons were subscribing to a reading of pharaonic as metonymic of domination or subjugation (rather than the enigmatic or sublime). The Sphinx in cartoons was invariably bearded or capped, standing for both Islamist groups and the army. In effect, it came to metonymically signify a form of leadership (A2), not only a specific leader/ship. An effective cartoon was one of the simplest: the leader’s face might change, but Egypt could continue to be ruled by a Sphinx (Image 15). Posted prior to the May 2012 election, the Sphinx featured an anonymous face (in Facebook pattern), epitomizing the newly entrenched motif. It was not long till the following president, Morsi, was depicted as the Sphinx.

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Image 15.

© Hajjaj/Cartoon Arts International.

Two points are noted. First, it is such pharaoism (A2) that underpinned the iconoclasm in some political cartoons (A4). Iconoclasm has evolved from direct physical destruction (of statues, images, etc.) to figurative iconoclasm, an attack on established principles, beliefs, or institutions considered fallacious or pernicious (Gamboni, 2007; Kolrud and Prusac, 2014). The latter is enacted through creative political practices (including drawings and cartoons) and offers a form of indirect iconoclasm (Boldrick and Clay, 2007) (e.g. by tackling images of leaders or their institutions through caricatures). In this sense, satirical political cartoons constitute a thread in figurative iconoclasm. However, iconoclasm can also be the subject of visual satire, offering a representational “gold-mine” (Gamboni, 2007: 118). Specifically, revolutionary iconoclasm often features through figurative attacks on a leader who symbolizes their respective institutions and values (Boldrick and Clay, 2007; Kolrud and Prusac, 2014), an observation theorized here through metonymy (C2). Unlike “iconoclasm from above,” driven by the interests of those in power, this “iconoclasm from below” springs from people who struggle for empowerment. The assault relies on the visual effectiveness of an image that is abused, defaced, or pulled to the ground (A4). The fall of a monument metonymically stands for the fall of its regime. The collapse signifies a “cultural ebb” (Grovier, 2017) and “tells of a revenge of the numerous and powerless over the few and the mighty, of the living over the petrified” (Gamboni, 2007: 51). The visual power of toppling statues or destroying monuments has often marked a sea change in political movements (Fortin, 2017).

Second, we come to the irony brought into play by metonymy: the variety in metonymy enables the Sphinx to symbolize Egypt’s leader/ship and its people. Since the same metonymic symbol can be implicated in competing social realities, the Sphinx is both sacred (standing for nation) and profane (standing for pharaoh leader). Hence, it is subject to both veneration and destruction. A new motif is the aggressive Sphinx, both as leader/ship and as people. So not only is the Sphinx attacked, but it also attacks (Image 14). Altogether, the subversion of the Sphinx as signifier for leadership was simultaneous to its constructive assertion, as an awakening of Egypt. The metonymic power of monuments does not only celebrate individual leadership but also stands for the “common man” [sic] (Gough and Morgan, 2004). And so we turn to Image 16: the rising Sphinx figures through figures of Egyptians, a perfect visual depiction of how metonymy works (B2, D2).

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Image 16.

JD Crowe/Courtesy of Cagle Cartoons.

Discussion and conclusion

Given the enduring assertion that symbols matter to leadership and the paucity of studies that address visual metonymy’s role in its symbolism, the theoretical aim of the paper has been to identify varieties of visual metonymy and the ways in which they shape cultural representations of leadership. What follows delineates the contributions, outlines combinations of metonymy with metaphor, charts metonymy’s effects on the discursive construction of leadership, and considers the implications for future research and practice.

An overview of the findings. The paper offers a typology of visual metonymies relevant to leadership studies on symbols, political cartoons in particular (Table 1). First, the paper extends the relevance of three established categories of verbal metonymy into analyzing leadership symbolism: thing for its idea (artifacts and body/physical parts), part for whole and entity for those involved. To these, the paper adds a one-for-all category and explicates subcategories across the four forms, some of which are new to the literature on metonymy more broadly. Second, the paper examines the important role of these metonymies in signifying individuals or entities in leadership, national leadership by the people, and nation-as-leader (Kellerman and Webster, 2001).

In considering leadership by the people, the findings illustrate how metonymy enables signification of a powerful presence by drawing from a people’s past, using a historical cultural symbol to bolster contemporary endeavors, e.g. the Sphinx for Egyptians. Yet metonymic symbols matter in two ways by which people are “moved by the past” (Runia, 2014): in the nostalgic sense (e.g. uses of the Sphinx post-1919 in Egypt’s Egyptian Revival) and in the revolutionary sense, as an attempt to break with the past (e.g. iconoclastic uses of the Sphinx post-2011 in political cartoons). Symbols of democratic leadership, both citizens and objects, are also enabled through one-for-all metonymy. Turning to nation-as-leader, we find two modes that rely on metonymy’s dynamics of presence and absence. Through appropriation that presents a symbol out of place (Runia, 2014) (e.g. Sphinxes in Europe), representations assert international power and naturalize presence in that other locale (Riad, 2008). Alternatively, such significations rely on metonymic strategies of replacement: a prominent local symbol is rendered absent, creating space for another nation’s symbol to replace it (e.g. Image 2).

The paper identifies a variety of composite (double or triple) metonymies. Findings are of two types: tiered and conjoined. A common example of tiered metonymy is when an artifact symbolizes a nation (B2) and the latter, in turn, stands for its people (D2) (hence, Sphinx for Egyptians). Likewise, an effective combination is when a head stands for a leader (B1) who, in turn, stands for the nation (C1). In conjoined metonymy, a leader symbolizes a nation (C1) in conjunction with a symbolic artifact for another nation (B2) (e.g. Cromer for Britain, Sphinx for Egypt, Image 9). Similarly, deploying physical features for group affiliation (A12) is effective when conjoined with one-citizen-for-all (C3) (Images 7 and 10).

Lastly, the paper illustrates how visual metonymies relevant to leadership symbolism often also combine with, or generate, metaphor (as in the verbal form: Deignan, 2005; Dirven, 2003). Examples here include the metonymy–metaphor combination of the Great Sphinx of Giza and the metonymy-based metaphor of the British Lion (metaphor for power, based on metonymy of nation for people or leaders). Indeed, nation for people metonymy is often the first step in grounding visual metaphors, including animation or personification of the nation, an observation that resonates with prior arguments on verbal metonymy (that it serves as the foundational trope on which metaphor is mounted; Jakobson, 1956; Riad and Vaara, 2011). An interesting new finding in this study is that two or more visual metonymies can collectively yield a metaphor. The most salient example is of leader as Sphinx, whereby the sum of metonymic parts (A1, A8, B2) generates a metaphorical whole.

Between iconic and ironic: Visual metonymy’s effects on the discursive construction of leadership. Signifying practices have cultural ramifications that shape how leadership comes to be identified and defined (Riad, 2011). So the “figurative transformations” generated through metonymy allow us to unmask the ways we habitually view the world (Lakoff, 1987; Matus, 1988: 308). In particular, by paying attention to visual metonymy we can see how leadership manifests through continuity of flow rather than a solid state (Edwards, 2016; Wood, 2005). The findings point to a central paradox. On the one hand, metonymy participates in reifying the established realities on leadership. On the other hand, it facilitates their ongoing change. So metonymy has both constraining and enabling effects on the discursive construction of leadership.

Reification. Metonymy facilitates the (re)production of dominant assumptions on leadership through signifying practices that have constraining effects on its representation. Specifically, metonymy enables homogenization, stereotyping, and agency shifting (Lakoff, 1987; Riad and Vaara, 2011).

The first effect to consider is homogenization, such as that generated through entity-for-those-involved. When the Sphinx stands for Egypt (as a singular entity) and its people, it reduces pluralism and diversity by homogenizing the experience. For example, not everyone is rising against the incumbent leader/ship, celebrating, or voting. This effect also transpires from one-for-all through a reverse strategy. Using a leader as a symbol for their nation risks stereotyping the latter by overlooking the diversity of the people, and reducing the nation to a particular leader and their style (C1, 2). Significantly, while an artifact that stands for all others (C4, one vote for all, one ballot box for all; Images 7 and 8) exemplifies visual metonymy of democratic leadership, this form tends to unify voice, offering one answer and masking differences of opinion (e.g. of those who voted differently to the outcome). So visual metonymy enables reduction in the variety of political experiences into the opinion or action of a prominent group or majority. Altogether, it is somewhat ironic that metonymies of democratic voice can homogenize its representation.

The second constraining effect is stereotyping, which unfolds through metonymic signifiers of people leadership, whether citizen or artifact (C3, 4). For example, whereas one could read leadership in Image 7, the gendered one-for-all metonymy (C3) casts all women voters as flappers. Though the cartoon may appear celebratory, in reusing a gendered lens (Edwards and Chen, 2000), it constrains achievement, undermining women by reproducing extant assumptions. And despite prominent participation of women in Egypt’s 2011 revolution, the four (assumed) female Sphinxes in the recent set were each shrouded in a dark burqa, one woman for all, reproducing a stereotype. Similar effects (of C3) can be noted in Image 10 that stereotypes the “local” by generalizing cultural and physical features (fez, A12, and potbelly).

Last, but not least, is metonymy’s effect on representing agency. Returning to the Sphinx’s signification of Egypt, we find a salient point. The Sphinx has no agency; people do. Yet metonymy enables agency shifting to the entity, Egypt, thereby masking those involved, the people responsible for the subject portrayed. Even when the Sphinx is the object of action (e.g. ridden), it potentially camouflages who in Egypt is affected, domesticated, or controlled. Such effects on agency alert us that nation-as-leader is also metonymic: “nations do not lead; people do” (Kellerman and Webster, 2001: 495). So attribution to a nation (e.g. Britain rather than specific people) can detract from the responsibility or achievement of leaders, redirecting attention to the entity.

Change. Metonymy facilitates change in values and views on leadership. Its dynamics point to the “importance of contingent relationships and contextual positions” or “provisionality” and “positionality” (Matus, 1988: 305, 323). As a leadership symbol, the Sphinx is fickle: even attempts at linguistic anchoring have a temporary effect. Whereas it can be reshaped into a certain meaning for a given purpose, the outcome is provisional, a flitting arrangement that serves a local intent. Change in metonymies enables the Sphinx to switch meanings as it operates in other acts of signification. So a symbol is defined in a given cultural milieu, graphic or social, but also transcends that milieu as it gets redefined in other settings. The cultural approach to symbols in leadership underlines the need to understand their context (e.g. Fineman et al., 2009/1993; Gardner, 1990). This work affirms the contextual specificity of a symbol, but also asserts its simultaneous variation as it is used in other contexts to other ends. A symbol’s meaning and value are positional, discursively located in relation to multiple, often conflicting, social goals and realities.

The paper offers new insight into how different forms of metonymy coexist, with contradictory effects on the symbol and the leader/ship. If we consider the motif of aggression by/against the Sphinx in cartoons (Images 13 and 14), we find that these simultaneous possibilities are enabled by deploying metonymy across different contexts: the Sphinx (for Egyptian people) attacking a leader and the Sphinx attacked as leader. Yet the Sphinx not only symbolizes contradictory agents, the who, but also contradictory whats, sometimes on the same who. For example, when the Sphinx stands for a leader, it can signify destruction or preservation, decay or permanence; when it stands for Egyptians, it can symbolize both their freedom or control, their victory or their loss. So importantly, due to the capacity for contradictory signification, a metonymic symbol carries with it the potential for irony and its respective effects on the representation of leadership.

By analyzing metonymy, one can address the call to capture the dynamics of leadership by showing how its process is fluid and contested (Tourish, 2014: 92), characteristics that are examined here through provisionality and positionality, respectively. These concepts compel us to (re)examine the extant adages on leaders using symbols and leaders as symbols (e.g. Gardner, 1990; Schein, 1992). In considering the claim that effective leaders make effective use of symbols, one should not assume that a symbol becomes a pawn in a leader’s hands. Leaders indeed use symbols, literally set them in stone (through Sphinxes), but that reification is limited and ephemeral: a leader can neither fully control nor indefinitely command the meaning of a symbol. Rather, through metonymic variation, a symbol is both used and has a life of its own. This provisionality enables us to recognize the fluidity inherent in leadership and how the pursuit of its “discursive closure” can be illusory (Tourish, 2014).

On the other hand, metonymy’s effects suggest that a “leader as symbol” is more salient than traditionally assumed. A leader is not only a cultural symbol in the relational sense, but also in the social semiotic sense, whereby a leader’s image becomes metonymic of nations, events, policies, etc. In effect, metonymy enables a leader to be used as a symbol (C1, C2). As a metonymic symbol, a leader’s image can be culturally deployed in ways they may have never intended and outside their control (including after their death). Other than cartoon variations of the Sphinx, examples here included T. Roosevelt on Mount Rushmore Memorial (metonymic of the US; B2) and Kitchener’s poster image (symbolizing the UK and WWI). Elsewhere, a prominent example is offered through Mao, whose image is widely used to symbolize China, its politics or economic activity (e.g. on magazine covers). The positionality inherent in defining a metonymic symbol alerts us to the contestation of leadership (Tourish, 2014), a process that can yield conflicting representations across multiple, simultaneous contexts.

Sometimes a leader is blended with a symbol. When the Sphinx is reheaded with a leader in cartoons, the metonymic symbol of leadership (Sphinx A1) blends with the leader as metonymic of a regime or entity and its respective values (C2). Metonymy facilitates mutual definition in value judgments. Here, it results in negative value judgment of both symbol and leader (based on leadership as pharaoism), which warrants their destruction. This observation poses a fundamental irony for metonymy: through the versatility it enables, the Sphinx becomes iconoplastic to the point whereby it enables iconoclastic practices against itself. The variety in metonymic uses of a symbol facilitates ongoing change in its value and meanings, potentially to its detriment.

Symbolization and iconoclasm. The literature on leadership has mostly steered clear of the topic of iconoclasm despite its social relevance. All forms of iconoclasm are related to symbols and symbolizing processes (though the literature stops short of relating it to metonymy; Gamboni, 2007; Kolrud and Prusac, 2014). Hence, if symbols matter to leadership, then the study of iconoclasm should matter to its research. The paper poses new insights for leadership through the metonymic role of the “graven image” (A3) and its destruction (A4). It is metonymy that renders toppling a statue into a “performative act,” as the recent action on Confederate statues in the US was described (Pogrebin and Debaug, 2017). Metonymy enables iconoclasm through its replacement function. When a person stands for a style of leadership or regime (C2), the stance enables attacks on the image or statue of a leader who symbolizes their respective institutions and values or beliefs (A3, 4). The findings engaged with three themes on iconoclasm: purpose (religious or political), form (physical or figurative), and power (from above or below) (Boldrick and Clay, 2007; Gamboni, 2007). The paper has largely addressed political and figurative iconoclasm, illustrating how it transpires as purpose or subject of the cartoon based on visual metonymy that renders intangible ideological attacks into tangible visual forms of destruction of a leader/ship.

Yet even noncartoon, nonfigurative forms of iconoclasm rely on visual metonymy. Examples include the felling of monuments to communist leaders, which symbolized the fall of the regime (Boldrick and Clay, 2007; Fortin, 2017). Such iconoclasm “from below,” enacted through double metonymy, signifies change in value judgments. For example, it underpins recent disputes and action over the statues of Cecil Rhodes (in South Africa and the UK) based on their metonymic signification of Rhodes, a leader who has stood for enterprise and scholarship but then came to symbolize British imperialism (Rohrer, 2015). It also propels the intense debate on Confederate statutes and monuments that ensued from the clashes in Charlottesville in August 2017 (occasioned by the decision to take down a statue of Robert E. Lee). It is double metonymy that grounds the discussion over “cultural value” spurred by the “anger and action” aimed at the statues and what they represent (Pogrebin and Debaug, 2017). The battles over Old South symbols, including whether confederate statues signify “heritage or hate” (Robertson et al., 2017), are underpinned by change and variegation in value judgments of leaders, including who and what they stand for in contemporary society.

So altogether, by scrutinizing metonymy and its effects, one can critically engage with the provisionality and positionality that shape leadership and its signifying practices. The fluidity and contestation inherent in its cultural representation facilitate an appreciation of leadership “as a process rather than a property or thing” (Wood, 2005: 1103), and so they supplement the interest in symbols with an emphasis on symbolization.

Limitations, future research, and implications for practice. This is arguably the first paper to outline the forms, and theorize the dynamics, of visual metonymy in leadership symbolism. So the work has its limitations, but it also opens new spaces for future research and practice. As a theory-building study, it is limited to a specific symbol, its significations and respective contexts. Future research can extend the insights offered in several ways. First, the paper addressed nation-as-leader mainly in a historical imperial setting, and the recent cartoons were limited to a revolutionary context so did not offer current examples. Since notions of nation-as-leader have expanded beyond imperial competition, future research can examine how metonymy plays a role in crafting such leadership. Moreover, this study largely addressed Egypt and nations that engaged with the symbolic relevance of the Sphinx, so it would be pertinent for research to address metonymies of leadership in other nations. Studies can also extend beyond political cartoons to examine other types of visual metonymy (some of which were explored for cultural context) and to address multimodal discourse through a range of forms, e.g. audiovisual in film (Forceville, 2009; Sadler and Haskins, 2005). By way of illustration, one can turn to the Statue of Liberty. Due to its cultural and historical salience, it can be used to examine metonymies of the three forms of political leadership (addressed in this paper) through multimodal analysis.

The paper opens further avenues for advancing contemporary theorization in leadership studies. First, it offers grounds for extending visual analysis (e.g. Edwards, 2016; Griffey and Jackson, 2010), not only through inquiry into symbolization and leadership, but also by presenting a view on leaders as semiotic signifiers. In doing so, the paper complements extant interest in leadership as a socially constructed process by forwarding the value of visual semiotics for its research. Second, the study offers a fresh perspective through which to explore embodiment in leadership (e.g. Melina et al., 2013; Redekop, 2014; Riad, 2011). Metonymy draws our attention to how various body parts come to symbolize facets of leadership. More broadly, metonymy is implicated in processes of materialization and incarnation. It renders the intangible tangible, giving form and flesh to abstract notions, including leadership power.

So metonymy is not merely a concept to mull over in academia. One needs to be wary of its everyday dynamics, striving to unmask its recurrent manifestations as metonymic constructs rather than concrete realities. The salience of a symbol can overshadow or define how a leader/ship is construed, shaping public opinion and respective action. So by knowing how a symbol functions, one can facilitate resistance to the stereotypes metonymy reproduces—including gendered and racialized forms—so as to enable new metonymic forms to enrich our lives. Whereas certain forms of metonymy can be used to construct the inevitability of a given leader/ship (e.g. Images 6, 9, and 15), as a trope, metonymy alerts us to the provisionality and positionality inherent in relating to leaders and leadership.

Tracing metonymy instills an awareness of how both creation and destruction are integral to leadership and its signification. Metonymy underpins the relevance of creating statues and monuments, and defines what it means to be put on a pedestal. Yet, one does not only understand a people from the statues and monuments they erect, but also from the ones they pull down (Grovier, 2017). So iconoclasm warrants close attention since it recurs throughout history, across cultures and political regimes (Kolrud and Prusac, 2014). Most vitally, exposing this hidden trope has implications for agency, enabling engagement with metonymy’s iconoclasm and its iconoplasticity. Understanding how metonymy works enables remobilization of a symbol, by redeploying it as a rallying point for what it (re)presents, and recasting it to empower people. Ultimately, awareness enables one to acquire the agency to reshape, rather than be captured by, a leadership symbol. Here we come full circle to the role of visual metonymy in redrafting symbols and reshaping how we understand, and engage with, a given leader/ship and the process of leadership.