Machiavelli: A Guide to Power and its Price

The double edged sword of power and human stupidity

Not every leader is exceptional, indeed as I witness the disfunction of many elected officials I question the competence of many. This is why I retuned to a favorite read over the holiday period. Reading Niccolò Machiavelli is to journey into the heart of human ambition, morality, and the raw calculus of power. His magnum opus, The Prince, defies neat categorization, it is part political handbook, part philosophical treatise, and entirely scandalous in its unvarnished exploration of what it takes to govern, and to survive, in a volatile world.

Machiavelli’s prose, sharp and unapologetic, invites readers into a world where survival trumps morality and necessity governs action. Central to this pragmatic worldview is Machiavelli's treatment of human stupidity and how ‘rulers’ use religion as a potent political tool rather than a moral compass. He observed how rulers could wield faith to unify people, legitimize power, and suppress dissent, all while remaining detached from its ethical underpinnings. This strategic deployment of religion reveals the intersection of his pragmatism and his unflinching view of morality as subordinate to the exigencies of governance.

In her formidable book, The March of Folly, the Pulitzer-Prize winning historian Barbara Tuchman suggests:

“For 2,500 years, political philosophers from Plato and Aristotle through Thomas Aquinas, Machiavelli, Hobbes, Locke, Rousseau , Jefferson, Madison and Hamilton, Nietzsche and Marx, have devoted their thinking to the major issues of ethics, sovereignty, the social contract, the rights of man, the corruption of power the balance between freedom and order. Few except Machiavelli, who was concerned with government as it is, not as it should be, bothered with folly (and stupidity), although it has been a chronic and pervasive problem.”

Renaissance?

In the Renaissance era of Machiavelli, the Italian peninsula was a fractured panoply of warring city-states, each vying for supremacy. Florence, Machiavelli’s hometown, was a republic but often a pawn in the grander schemes of more powerful neighbors. This was a world dominated by figures like Cesare Borgia, whose ruthlessness and cunning provided Machiavelli with a living, breathing archetype of the successful ruler. For Machiavelli, Borgia embodied the fusion of audacity, adaptability, and pragmatism that he termed virtù. Not to be confused with conventional virtue, virtù represented a ruler’s capacity to shape circumstances, to bend fortune, or fortuna, to their will. In one of his most chilling anecdotes, Machiavelli recounts how Borgia dealt with his cruel lieutenant, Remirro de Orco. After allowing de Orco to brutalize the Romagna region into submission, Borgia publicly executed him, leaving his corpse on display to both gratify and shock the populace. This act, calculated and theatrical, encapsulates Machiavelli’s belief that a ruler must balance fear and respect.

One of the most enduring metaphors in The Prince is Machiavelli’s comparison of a ruler to both a fox and a lion. A ruler, he argues, must possess the cunning of the fox to recognize traps and the strength of the lion to frighten wolves. The fox represents the shrewdness needed to navigate the complexities of human relationships and political intrigue, while the lion embodies the raw force necessary to maintain order and deter aggression. This duality reflects Machiavelli’s belief that effective leadership requires adaptability and a keen understanding of human nature connects deeply with his concept of virtù. Far more than mere skill or courage, virtù encapsulates a leader’s ambition and their ability to navigate the ever-shifting tides of political fortune. Machiavelli illustrates this dynamic through other actions of Cesare Borgia, whose audacity and cunning allowed him to turn volatile circumstances to his advantage, consolidating power in a fragmented Italy.

Yet, virtù is not synonymous with unyielding force, it also requires the foresight and flexibility to seize opportunities when fortuna provides them. As Machiavelli writes, "Fortune is a woman," and she favors those who act decisively. This intricate interplay between virtù and fortuna reveals how effective rulers balance ambition with adaptability, a lesson reflected in historical figures like Napoleon, who rose by mastering circumstances yet fell when he overreached. Such examples underscore the timeless relevance of Machiavelli’s insights into leadership and human nature. A ruler who relies solely on strength risks being outmaneuvered by deceit, just as one who depends entirely on cunning may be overpowered by brute force. It is the rare leader who can embody both qualities that achieves lasting success.

Machiavelli’s insistence on the practicalities of power contrasts sharply with the idealism of his predecessors. While Plato envisioned philosopher-kings and Augustine extolled divine order, Machiavelli rejected these abstractions in favor of hard truths. “It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both,” he declares, underscoring the precarious nature of loyalty. A ruler’s primary duty is not to be virtuous but effective. In this, Machiavelli echoes Thucydides, who chronicled the Peloponnesian War with a similarly unsentimental eye, and anticipates thinkers like Thomas Hobbes, who would later argue that fear of authority is the foundation of society.

Influence

Machiavelli’s contemporary critics often misinterpreted his intent, viewing The Prince as a sinister blueprint for tyranny. Yet the question of his intended audience remains crucial to understanding the text. On one level, the dedication to Lorenzo de’ Medici suggests a specific aim, to curry favor with the powerful Medici family and secure a return to political relevance. However, Machiavelli’s choice to write in Italian rather than Latin, the traditional language of elite discourse, hints at a broader audience. By making his ideas accessible, he may have sought to influence not only rulers but also those who could observe and judge them, aspiring leaders, disenfranchised citizens, and even scholars. This duality, whether The Prince serves as a manual for rulers or a cautionary commentary for the governed, reflects the complexity of Machiavelli’s motives and the enduring debate over his legacy.

A Coded Warning

In his essay, Anti-Machiavel, Frederick the Great dismissed The Prince as a “handbook for gangsters,” while Bertrand Russell, centuries later, called Machievelili’s “political philosophy scientific and empirical”. Others discerned a more subversive purpose. Jean-Jacques Rousseau famously argued that The Prince was not an endorsement of despotism but a coded critique, exposing the mechanics of power to arm citizens against oppression. Rousseau believed that Machiavelli’s vivid descriptions of ruthless tactics were intended to serve as a warning rather than an endorsement, encouraging readers to recognize and resist tyranny. By laying bare the tools of manipulation, Machiavelli may have sought to empower citizens as much as instruct rulers. This duality, the text as both guide and cautionary tale, is part of its enduring allure.

Modern Day

The influence of The Prince extends far beyond its Renaissance origins. Joseph Stalin, infamous for his dictatorial rule, is reported to have kept a copy of the book by his bedside, although there is no historical proof, yet there is evidence of his regularly reading The Prince. The Soviet leader, who wielded both fear and cunning with ruthless efficiency, seemed to embody Machiavelli’s dictum that the ends justify the means. Stalin’s use of purges to consolidate power and his calculated alliances during World War II demonstrate the chilling resonance of Machiavelli’s insights into the nature of power. For leaders like Stalin, The Prince served not merely as a guide but as a validation of their methods. More recently, figures such as Bashar al-Assad have demonstrated an acute understanding of Machiavellian principles, blending displays of power with calculated public image management. In democracies, too, leaders like Lyndon B. Johnson (LBJ), with his relentless pursuit of influence during his presidency, exemplified the tactical maneuvers Machiavelli described. It was said that LBJ was 'Mother Theresa and Machiavelli rolled up into one'.

These examples highlight how Machiavelli’s insights into power dynamics continue to shape political strategies across diverse systems and eras. Beyond politics, his principles have also found application in the business world. Modern corporate leaders often employ Machiavellian strategies to navigate competition, secure market dominance, and manage public relations. For instance, Steve Jobs’ strategic vision and often ruthless decision-making in building Apple into a global powerhouse may be considered as reflecting the cunning and decisiveness Machiavelli depicted. By balancing innovation with a relentless focus on controlling Apple’s ecosystem, Jobs exemplified how virtù and adaptability can ensure success in a competitive landscape.

The Medici’s

To understand The Prince fully, one must consider the historical and personal context of its creation. In 1512, the Medici family returned to power in Florence, ending the republic and ousting Machiavelli from his government position. Arrested, tortured, and exiled to his family’s farm, Machiavelli penned The Prince not as a detached scholar but as a man desperate to reclaim relevance. His famous letter describing how he donned his best robes, to converse with the ancients and study history, in his home reveals his yearning for intellectual and political engagement. Yet, this very longing imbues the work with tension. Machiavelli is both the dispassionate observer of power and the disillusioned servant of the Florentine Republic, recently overthrown by the Medici. His republican sympathies are more explicitly explored in his other major work, The Discourses on Livy, which celebrates the virtues of collective governance and civic freedom. Unlike The Prince, which sparked controversy and alarm among its readers, The Discourses was received as a more scholarly and reflective work, appealing to those who admired republican ideals and philosophical analysis. This contrast complicates the simplistic view of Machiavelli as a proponent of tyranny, revealing a thinker deeply invested in the resilience of republican institutions while acknowledging the harsh realities of power. He admires the ruthlessness of Cesare Borgia but cannot disguise his lament for the fragility of civic freedom.

Whose Purpose is Served?

The Prince’s pragmatism extends to its treatment of morality, which Machiavelli regards as a tool rather than a guiding principle. He advises rulers to appear merciful, faithful, and upright, but only to the extent that such appearances serve their ends. “A prince must not keep faith when doing so would be against his interest,” he writes, a sentiment that has reverberated through centuries of political strategy. Abraham Lincoln’s suspension of habeas corpus during the Civil War, Franklin D. Roosevelt’s internment of Japanese Americans, and Winston Churchill’s concessions at Yalta all reflect the Machiavellian calculus of necessity over principle.

The enduring relevance of The Prince lies not in its specific advice but in its unflinching exploration of power’s dynamics. Leadership, as Machiavelli portrays it, is a performance art, a delicate balance of fear and love, decisiveness and adaptability. Leaders must possess the discernment to know when to act ruthlessly and the charisma to make their ruthlessness palatable. “Men judge generally more by the eye than by the hand,” Machiavelli observes, capturing the essence of political theater.

No Illusions

If The Prince scandalized its contemporaries, it continues to unsettle modern readers for the same reason, it strips away the comforting illusions of governance. Politics, Machiavelli reminds us, is not a morality play but a struggle for survival. His work challenges us to confront the compromises inherent in leadership and to ask, as we observe our own rulers, if their effectiveness and goodness ever truly coexist?

Niccolò Machiavelli’s masterpiece remains a must read, outlining the complexities of human ambition to the human condition, its insights as provocative (and relevant) today as they were five centuries ago. To read The Prince is to wrestle with its provocations, to embrace its wisdom while resisting its cynicism. Above all, it is to acknowledge the eternal tension between power and principle, a tension that defines both leaders and the societies they shape.

Stay curious and hold those in power accountable

Colin

Image created with GPT4.0 - Detailed Prompt which I provided. The image above is from the 1st and only attempt: “Please create an image - a description of a cartoon-style Machiavelli character, wearing red with a bright yellow background, incorporating the essence of his personality as understood through The Prince:

Character: Niccolò Machiavelli Style: Cartoon, slightly exaggerated features, but still recognizable. Think of a caricature you might see in a political cartoon.

Pose: He's standing with one hand on his hip, the other hand holding a rolled-up copy of The Prince almost like a scepter or a weapon. His body is angled slightly to the side, as if he's observing someone or something with a critical eye, or is about to offer some cunning advice. He might have a small smirk on his face.

Facial Features: Eyes: Sharp, intelligent, and slightly narrowed, conveying a sense of cunning and observation. Perhaps one eyebrow is slightly raised, giving him a skeptical or knowing look.

Nose: Prominent and slightly hooked, adding to his shrewd appearance. Mouth: A thin, slightly upturned mouth forming that subtle smirk. It suggests he knows more than he's letting on and finds the situation somewhat amusing.

Hair: Dark, receding hairline, possibly with a few strands out of place, hinting at his busy and strategic mind. He may have a dark, neatly trimmed goatee, a common style in the Renaissance.

Clothing: Outfit: He's wearing a Renaissance-era doublet and hose, but in a vibrant red color. The red symbolizes power, ambition, and perhaps a hint of danger. Doublet: The doublet is well-tailored but not overly ornate. It might have some subtle gold or black trim to add a touch of elegance without being ostentatious. There could be a high collar, partially open, adding to his somewhat imperious air. Hose: Red, matching the doublet, fitting snugly as was the fashion. Shoes: Simple, dark-colored, pointed-toe shoes, typical of the period. Belt: A dark leather belt, possibly with a small, ornate buckle. It subtly suggests that everything about his appearance is deliberate, even the smallest of details.

The Prince: The rolled-up scroll in his hand is tied with a red ribbon, a visual link between him and his most famous work. You might even see the words "Il Principe" (The Prince) subtly written on the scroll.

Background: A vibrant, bright yellow background. This creates a strong contrast with the red of his clothing and makes the character pop. Yellow can also symbolize intellect, caution, and a strategic mind. Maybe in the corners, there could be faded imagery of a lion and a fox or subtle silhouettes of Renaissance-era Florence, very faintly, to add thematic context without distracting from the main figure.

Overall Impression: This cartoon Machiavelli should exude intelligence, cunning, and a hint of danger. He's a man who understands the levers of power and isn't afraid to use them. The bright colors and slightly exaggerated features make him visually engaging, while the details from the critique ground him in the historical and philosophical context of his work. He looks like someone who would offer you advice you might not want to hear but probably should.”