Transcription
Nicolo Machiavelli is perhaps history's original villain, for good enough reason. Machiavelli abandoned traditional morals. He rejected Christianity, and he ripped apart goodness at its very foundation. In its place, Nicolo Machiavelli created a structured system of ruthlessness and deceit.
Machiavelli offers a tangled web of contradictions, profound truths, villainous advocacy, and single-minded determination. But by looking beyond the now-famous brand of Machiavelli, you can find some grim and relevant truths about the world we live in today, and how to function within that world.
To understand, at all, the philosophy of Machiavelli, you do need to understand his life and, to a degree, the times he grew up in. These times were marked by political instability and societal chaos.
Niccolo Machiavelli was born in Florence in 1469. He came from a wealthy family, but his father, Bernardo, was the poorest of that family. Bernardo was a former lawyer, mostly unemployed, who had a good network of relationships, but not much to show for it. Machiavelli's father was skeptical of religion, or at least as skeptical as one could be in his era. His mother, meanwhile, was a devout woman who spent her time writing religious poems and hymns. This combination of religious skepticism and talented writer would certainly form the basis for Machiavelli's later work.
At that time, Florence was a republic, on paper anyways. The Florentine government consisted of eight priori, who were all led by one sort of prime minister every two months. These people would be elected via a lottery system from the names of well-to-do, respectable Florentine men. In theory, this allowed a constant changing of power so that no single profession or geographic area could seize control entirely or permanently. In practice, the system was an absolute disaster. Every two months, there were wholesale changes to government approach and priorities. So, the ruling Medici family had stepped in. They manipulated the lottery system, ensuring that all eligible names were friendly and would tow the Medici line. In reality, Florence was functioning like something of a dictatorship.
This level of corruption wasn't really rare in Italy. Rather, it was closer to the norm than an exception. Wars raged around Europe for territory. Italian mercenary government leaders changed sides at the drop of a hat. This is all to say, Machiavelli grew up in a society where the idea and the reality of how things operated were wildly divergent. He had a front-row seat to political dysfunction and corruption. Meanwhile, he learned from a young age the price of failing as a politician. Near his ninth birthday, conspirators against the Medici family were hung upside down from the government's main building and left there for weeks to rot. This combination of corruption and brutality were seemingly formative in Machiavelli's later career.
People don't really know much about Machiavelli's early life, but he did achieve a significant level of education. After the Medici family was pushed from power in 1494, Machiavelli was appointed to a Florentine government office where he authored government documents. Shortly thereafter, Machiavelli earned himself a couple of promotions. He was appointed to the Second Chancery, which was one of two key state departments in Florence. He also became Secretary of the Ten of War. This was a committee that dealt with foreign relations and war preparations. Machiavelli was just 28. To this day, no one knows how he earned such high posts at such a young age. There are no documents or records to indicate any special experience that would have deserved these promotions.
People often downplay Machiavelli as a failed politician, which perhaps later will be true, but isn't entirely correct. For over a decade, he was Florence's top diplomat. While his work did not produce any truly remarkable results, this was probably through no fault of his own. Florence was the weakest of the main Italian states during a truly tumultuous period.
To that point, in 1512, the Florentine Republic was overthrown, and the Medici family returned to power. Suspecting Machiavelli of conspiracy, the Medicis imprisoned, tortured, and exiled him. The following year, it was there in exile that Machiavelli produced his most famous work.
The Prince was not the only thing Machiavelli wrote, but it's his most famous and most influential. So, we'll be looking at Machiavelli's philosophy predominantly, but not entirely, through the lens of this book. The Prince was meant to be a guide for a ruler. Indeed, it was written expressly for Lorenzo Medici, head of the Medici family, and we'll talk more about that later.
For a long time, the prevailing philosophy said that the measure of a leader's greatness was by his goodness, his moral character. This was certainly not always put into practice, but it was the ideal. In The Prince, Machiavelli tossed that out entirely. He said that for a leader, all that mattered was concentrating and keeping one's power. Being good was not the measure of a leader's success, but rather building a great nation. In this way, Machiavelli divorced entirely political theory from ethics. The book is not a manual for living, but rather a manual for keeping one's political power, for being an effective leader.
In this pursuit, Machiavelli rejected Christianity and placed very little value on traditional morals. More precisely, he argued that morality was fine, but a person simply couldn't always act morally and be an effective politician. This took courage, perhaps cruelty, in a dark sort of boldness, but courage nevertheless. Machiavelli could have padded his messages. He could have said, "Oh, you have to do all of this to stay in power, and that's why power isn't really good." Could have expressed a disdain for the type of person he believed could hold on to power. In writing this way, Machiavelli could have eliminated a great deal of criticism and controversy, while still fundamentally delivering the same messages. But instead, in this short volume, Machiavelli systematically rips apart morality and instead constructs a deeply troubling and, at times, profoundly accurate assessment of the world.
Cesare Borgia was the son of Pope Alexander VI. With his father's help, Borgia was building himself a new Italian state near Florence. In 1502, Borgia conquered the city of Cesena and immediately went off to go continue his work. In his place, Borgia ordered his right-hand man, Ramiro de Lorca, to bring order to Cesena. Told de Lorca to do whatever he wanted, be as ruthless as cruel as horrific as he needed to be. De Lorca obeyed. He beheaded men in front of their families, he seized property, he castrated anyone who went against his rule. After this version of peace was established, Borgia went to Cesena himself. Borgia learned that, of course, the people of the town now hated de Lorca and, by extension, hated him too. After all, de Lorca had just spent a few months killing people's fathers, castrating their brothers, and abusing their wives.
So, one night, Borgia had his men slice de Lorca's body in two pieces. Place these two pieces, along with his severed head, on a stick in the middle of the town square. The next morning, the townspeople awoke and saw de Lorca's mutilated remains on full display. Being that they hated de Lorca, the people were pretty happy about this. Borgia addressed his citizens with flagrant deceit, told them that de Lorca had usurped power and acted entirely on his own volition, that Borgia had never granted him the right to commit such atrocities. He said that de Lorca was a savage, sadistic psychopath. Borgia told the people that he had saved them from this monster and that de Lorca's level of cruelty and disobedience simply couldn't be allowed in the great society that he was trying to build. It was a ruthless, severe, and underhanded double-cross from Borgia, committed against one of his closest comrades.
Throughout The Prince, Machiavelli expresses a deep admiration for Cesare Borgia. He exalts Borgia as basically the ideal leader. You see, Machiavelli believed that goodness was fine, it was great to be good, even. But you could not be an effective leader and be good all of the time. For Machiavelli, politics was an unending knife fight. It inherently required ruthlessness. He says a leader cannot always be compassionate, loyal, humane, and honest, because the very nature of the role requires you to be cruel, disloyal, inhumane, and dishonest.
Machiavelli presents the question: Should one be loved or feared? His answer is revealing. He says that it would be great to be both, but they don't always go together. And broadly, it's safer to be feared rather than loved. Machiavelli says people are unreliable. Some are cowards, some lie, some can be bought, some just change their mind. These things will happen, he says, no matter how much these people claim to love you. But fear, Machiavelli argues, is permanent. Punishment is a tangibly threatening thing that keeps people permanently in line. You can get over love, can change your mind. It's much more difficult to get over fear. Indeed, Machiavelli argues that you can't control what or how people love, but you can control what they fear. It's a fine line, though. Fear is good, but Machiavelli maintains that a leader should never, for any reason, be hated. Hatred, he said, is what inspired assassinations and conspiracies. If you have to engage in violence, if you have to be cruel, do it quickly, do it quietly. It was not to create hatred amongst your people. Be loved when possible, be feared when not, but never, ever be hated. That was a successful politician for Machiavelli.
Nicolo Machiavelli was also happy to cast aside honesty. He recognizes that it's admirable to be honest, sure, but he argues it's simply not effective. By outwitting one's opponents, Machiavelli said, the cunning leader is more effective than the honest leader. He says that it's okay to lie, to go back on your word, to deceive people, or even stab them in the back. Circumstances change, and so must your commitments. It's not ethical, but this is what it takes to maintain power and build a great nation. Machiavelli argues that people will lie to you, so what obligation do you have to be truthful to them? In being honest, you're giving your opponents an advantage. You're refusing a weapon that you know they will have.
This disregard for honesty expresses itself further, while Machiavelli maintains that you don't really need to have virtuous qualities. The great leader needs to appear to have them. You see, Machiavelli says it takes two things to win the people's adoration: appearances and results. Most people, he says, will only know a leader through his words. Very few individuals will ever see what goes on behind closed doors. And so, your constituents will judge you based only on what they see, not anything that they experience. The things you say need to feel inspired by virtues, because that's how people will judge you. Of course, he goes on to say, they will also judge your achievements based on results. Results, not methods. You won't always be able to get results through honesty, kindness, or any other virtue. That's just not how the game is played.
And so, we have the house that Machiavelli built, or at least the one that is so famous. Not inherently or always cruel, but so willing to be cruel, willing to deceive, to lie, and to hurt. It is marred by cynicism, or perhaps, as he would say, realism. Multiple times in his writings, Machiavelli declares people to be unreliable, dishonest, and selfish. And so, you need to be these things too. But to reduce Machiavelli down to these terms is kind of inaccurate. Among his writings, there are profound truths, perhaps worryingly profound.
Machiavelli famously rejected Christianity as a legitimate way to deal with life's problems. In The Prince, he derisively writes, "I realize that many people have believed and still do believe that the world is run by God and by fortune, and that whoever shrewd men may be, I can't do anything about it and have no way of protecting themselves." In these words, Machiavelli sort of scoffs at the idea of God running our world and controlling our fates. In a way, it's tremendously inspirational. You have agency over your life, not God. Now go do something with that agency.
As ever, Machiavelli takes a practical approach. His approach to not just politics, but life itself, is a battle between *virtù* and *fortuna*. Throughout his book, The Prince, Machiavelli relies on the concept of virtue. Of course, the word itself brings to mind virtue, but that would be an incorrect translation. Machiavelli wasn't interested in the simple dichotomy of good and evil, but rather the pursuits of success over failure and the need for strength over weakness. Really, there's no great single word translation for the idea of *virtù*. Prowess comes to mind, as does strength of character, but *virtù* is perhaps any trait that allows you to achieve your desires. It could be talent, boldness, bravery, will, cunning, intelligence, or any number of other specific skills. Broadly, it is something that inspires a sense of agency. With *virtù*, you can be truly great in life.
Virtue is pitted against Fortuna. Machiavelli says Fortuna here is a more straightforward concept. It is fortune. Look, Machiavelli tells us that Fortuna basically decides half of what we do. The other half is up to us and our *virtù*. He makes the analogy of a river that routinely floods a plain, destroying a village and killing its people. That is Fortuna. But we can do something with this Fortuna. We can build banks and dams so that the river can flood all at once, and the people will not be harmed. This is the meeting of Fortuna and *virtù*. Fortune, he says, wields power only in places you allow it to. With preparation through *virtù*, you can at least be ready to meet Fortune when it arrives. Conversely, a person can be successful one day by doing X, Y, and Z, then fail the next day doing the exact same thing. This is because Fortuna changes. This way, Machiavelli tells us, we must be ready to adapt. Keep your approach in step with your circumstances. In so many words: adapt or die.
Nicolo Machiavelli believed there was a beast within man. That beneath whatever morals we espouse, or even act out, there is something else within us. There's an animal that wants nothing more than to fulfill desire and will do anything it must to achieve these ends. Perhaps he was ahead of his time. A psychologist, Carl Jung, would later refer to something like this as the shadow. While Freud may consider it the subconscious. Much like these men, Machiavelli insisted that we don't suppress this beast, nor do we let it take control, but we must instead learn how to work with it. Be ethical, be kind, and be just whenever you can. But in the pursuit of a goal, being like the beast. Be like the lion who can scare away hyenas. Be like the fox who is too cunning to fall into traps. Playing by the laws, morals, and methods of man will only get you so far.
Machiavelli offers profound insight when he discusses another dichotomy: the way the world should be versus the way the world is. This insight, I feel, is perhaps the most chillingly accurate in all of his writings. He says there is an enormous, glaring gap between these two things. If you conduct yourself in a way that is in accordance with what the world should be, rather than the way that it is, you are authoring your own destruction. Machiavelli basically says the world is not a utopia. There's goodness in it, but it is not wholly good. There are traps, lies, and threats. You need to be wary of these things. You need to function in a way that provides resilience in the face of these realities. Live in accordance with how the world is, not how you think it ought to be. This, I think, more than categorizations of villainy or evil, gets to the core of the Machiavellian philosophy.
Still, for all his insights, when we try to put Machiavellian principles into practice, we do run into some problems. Machiavelli wrote The Prince as a gift to Lorenzo Medici, the head of the Medici family. It was an attempt to earn Medici's trust and favor and basically get himself a job. Mind you, Machiavelli did this after the Medicis had him imprisoned, tortured, and exiled. Machiavelli never got his job. Lorenzo probably never even read The Prince. But even if he had, I think Machiavelli still wouldn't have gotten the job. Of all people, Machiavelli should have understood that his ideas were maybe just publishing them could fuel only an author's career, not one of a politician.
Machiavelli's work is self-defeating. Look at the things he advocates for: deceit, backstabbing, cruelty, opportunism. Why would you ever want this man in your inner circle? How could you willingly invite him into any meaningful position? Machiavelli's principles, when broadcast, anyways, become incredibly anti-social and perhaps even counterproductive. At the very least, Machiavelli sacrificed himself to espouse his ideology. Who would read The Prince and want to be anywhere near Nicolo Machiavelli? Well, the answer to that was demonstrably no one. You could argue that you'd rather have him on your side than the other guys. But while not an entirely failed politician, Machiavelli never rose to any significant positions of power. He never drafted any constitutions, he never led any revolutions, and he was never in charge of any cities or countries. For all of his theorizing, Machiavelli never seemed to put his ideas into practice with huge efficacy. Indeed, there are no records of him ever doing anything that was Machiavellian. Of course, he also advocates for secrecy and cunning, so perhaps Nikola Machiavelli just managed to hide things from history. But historical record does not shine brightly on his life outside of authorship.
After The Prince's failure, Machiavelli fell back into a life of womanizing. He fell in and out of love quite routinely and pursued little more than his romantic desires. Machiavelli went on to write sexual, comedic plays, which earned him undeniable and immediate celebrity. But he wanted to be in politics. Eventually, Machiavelli was called upon by a Medici cousin for advice on a looming French and Spanish conflict. Machiavelli was given the task of overseeing Florence's defensive walls. When the fight came, the Spanish Army simply bypassed Florence altogether. Instead, they sacked Rome quite easily. The Medici family collapsed once again, and Machiavelli was out of favor and unemployed. He got ill, and Niccolo Machiavelli died within a month. His political career was largely insignificant, but still, Machiavelli's legacy is strong. His writing undeniably put a stamp on history.
The Prince was not published during Machiavelli's life, but when it did appear in print, an English cardinal declared that it had been written by "Satan's finger." Then, Pope Paul IV banned the book immediately. In France, conflicts between the Protestant Huguenots and Catholics threatened to rip the country apart. The nation was under the rule of Charles IX, but he was sickly and young. In reality, his mother, Catherine de' Medici, was the one pulling the strings. His mother, who was an Italian Florentine and the daughter of Lorenzo de' Medici, the very man to which The Prince had been originally dedicated. In the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre in 1572, thousands of Huguenots were murdered, and Catherine was held to blame. One would-be victim, you know, Jean de Léry, escaped and wrote a work that firmly established Machiavelli as a villain in history. The book described Catherine as a compulsive reader of Machiavelli and characterized the author as representative of a cruel, villainous Italian identity. The writings pulled Machiavelli's work from its context, and readers were convinced that they understood the philosophy. In truth, what they read was a hodgepodge of Machiavellian ideas that seemed to embrace brutality and advocated for the rejection of virtue entirely. But this was the version of Machiavelli that became democratized. Jean de Léry's work was translated into Latin and then English well before The Prince itself existed in English. This version of Machiavelli's writing moved from intellectual elites into popular culture. The character of a cruel, Machiavellian archetype leaked into famous plays and literature. So, Machiavelli's name became synonymous with evil.
In truth, Machiavelli's thesis was only that Christian morals and effective political leadership were not always compatible. I think most people today would probably agree with this sentiment. While the tide never really turned on Machiavelli, his philosophy has been embraced by politicians the world over. It should be said that these politicians were not exclusively moral or amoral leaders, not exclusively authoritarian or permissive. Whether he predicted it, or caused it, or some combination of the two, Machiavelli's writings describe modern political machinations almost perfectly. Today's politicians must and do maintain a facade of morality and hopefully act on it when possible, but in reality, there is certainly a divorce between ethics and political ambitions. No matter where you stand politically, I think we can all agree this is mostly true.
I personally don't find the early political discussion around Machiavelli entirely compelling. Rather, I think that examining his opinions on life, the world, and how to operate within it reveal timeless wisdom, wisdom that sometimes we'd rather not accept. I find myself resistant to much of the cynicism offered by Machiavelli. Certainly, I would never aspire to be like Cesare Borgia, nor would I want a leader like him either. In fact, I believe people to be inherently good. But presented with this, I am sure Nicolo Machiavelli would laugh in my face. He would say I am playing right into what he warns against. Machiavelli would tell me I am living how I think the world should be, not how it really is.
This way, there is a single-minded determination to Machiavelli's writings. Doesn't care one way or the other about being a good person. Doesn't care about any God. He doesn't care about friends. Instead, his philosophy cares only about one thing: power. I suppose there is something admirable to such determination, even if it isn't wholly relevant to every individual. Like all great villains, Machiavelli is dangerous. It is dangerous to subscribe wholesale to his ideas, and indeed, it is perhaps equally dangerous to ignore them completely.