Is Machiavelli a Teacher of Evil?

Asking whether Machiavelli simply describes the reality around him in an attempt to delineate the characteristics of the art of exercising power, or conversely, whether he should be held accountable for perpetuating forms of authoritarian rule which came after him, is akin to asking whether Charles Darwin, because of his theory on natural selection, should be held accountable for the racial crimes of World War II. In both cases, the answer is a resounding no. Both Machiavelli and Darwin were passionate interpreters of the world they lived in, but neither should be considered as cause, even if only in part, of pathological forms of power. The question essentially asks to bring Machiavelli to the tribunal of history and to either (1) indict him for the deeds of regimes which, as will be seen subsequently, he never indicated as preferable, or (2) absolve him once and for all of such a charge. Between the two options, I choose the latter, and proceed to explain why.

A Methodological Note

Compared to other fields, political science has been reluctant to accept its status of evolutionary discipline. In particular, western political philosophy has often seemed to proceed in a non-linear fashion, by means of intuitive conceptual leaps, thus making its study all the more interesting. Nonetheless, it would be erroneous not to perceive in its development an evolutionary dialectic that is integral to all disciplines. Indeed, political science, like art, philosophy, and psychology, to name but a few, continuously confronts conceptual models, re-elaborates them and develops their potential, or, conversely, negates their usefulness and proposes alternatives. Marx, for instance, would be unthinkable without Hegel, while Hegel would be unthinkable without Aristotle. By the same token, Aristotle would be unthinkable without Plato, while Plato would be unthinkable without Socrates. This is what I mean by evolutionary process. The question posed thus contains a methodological trap. If we accept that political science is evolutionary, then it is not Machiavelli who must be brought to our tribunal, but all of his predecessors as well as his descendants.

Modern visions of democracy confront themselves daily with dynamics that were already appreciated by thinkers like Hobbes, Locke and Rousseau. The modern theoretical bifurcation between ‘democracy of the masses’ on one hand, and ‘authoritative democracy’ on the other, owes much to Machiavelli’s work. It follows that Machiavelli could be seen as inspiration to abuses of power in history and at present. However, with Machiavelli, political thought and the exercise of power are still separate. Indeed, Machiavelli writes The Prince for others to use as a reference guide, on the basis of which action may or may not be taken. This separation will not be broken until Marx realizes the indissolubility of theory and praxis. Therefore, whereas Marx could, Machiavelli cannot be held accountable for this conceptual approach.

It is also crucial to add that I find the question “Is Machiavelli a teacher of evil?” absurd: no political thinker, for the sole reason of having developed conceptual models or political doctrines, ought to be considered evil, provided we do not wish to initiate new inquisitions which will stifle independent thought, as perhaps sought by elites and their intellectual collaborators. The concept of power which tells you what is ‘good’ and what is ‘evil’ belongs to a despotic tradition that should never be replicated. We may read Mein Kampf without sharing its ideology. It is also important, for the development of political science, to understand the distinction between theory of the state and the practice of power in everyday life. As well, political thinking, in its evolution, makes up the formative base for political activity, but it is not responsible for the pathologies which derive from these theories, above all when these are misinterpreted.


On the Analysis of the Texts (The Prince and The Discourses)


To grasp the depth of Machiavelli’s thinking, it is necessary to immerse oneself in his historical and philosophical context, and attempt to appreciate the frustrations of a man who loved history and saw the potential of a country which did not yet exist. In the years during which Machiavelli wrote The Prince and The Discourses, Europe already encompassed national and political realities. France was unified under a monarchy which proved to be a perennial menace to Italy’s princedoms, while Spain was widely recognized as a tremendous military and soon to be colonial power. In Central Europe, Duchy of Austria was starting to assert itself as the leading member of the Holy Roman Empire and the kernel of a future Empire of its own. Meanwhile, the Apennine peninsula was a complex multitude of small states, both secular and religious, beleaguered by warfare, dynastic struggles and the constant attempts of the Papacy to exercise temporal power.

At this time, Florence, Machiavelli’s residence, was in a process of transition from its first republican experience, which ended with the torture and martyrdom of Friar Savonarola and the restoration of the Medici family (Skinner, 2000, p. 3). According to Machiavelli, the Medicis were certainly enlightened as far as art and literature, but not conscious of the necessity of a larger political and military vision. This Machiavellian frustration, present throughout his entire work, becomes particularly evident in the last chapter of The Prince, where he writes “Let your illustrious House therefore take upon itself this enterprise with all the courage and all the hopes with which a just cause is undertaken…” (Machiavelli, 1992, p. 71). A just and noble cause -- these words reveal a concept that is one of the pillars of Machiavelli’s thought, and help to explain what we can today call Machiavellian realism. That is, the acceptance of power as strength, and decisiveness as means, if and when a just cause is sought as an end. For Machiavelli, this just cause must be understood as national glory.

On political thinking understood as a science, Machiavelli had to start at the beginning, as he found himself in a philosophic context dominated by metaphysics. He is the first to put the problem of power and its internal dynamics, as well as the multiple relations between citizens and their governments above all else, thus demarcating the beginnings of political science. Of course, Machiavelli retains the teachings of history and philosophy. In fact, he often analyzes the past through anecdotes to reason about what should be done in the present and in the future. For instance, in the 23rd discourse, he begins with Manlius Torquatus subjugating rebel cities (Machiavelli, 1998, p. 346) to conclude that “…when sentence has to be passed on cities which are powerful and accustomed to a life of freedom, either they should be eliminated or they should be caressed. Any other decision is futile” (Machiavelli, 1998, p. 350).

The teaching of the classics, particularly those of Plato and Aristotle, are present in Machiavelli’s thought. However, unlike them, he refuses to conceive of an ideal world, worrying instead about a realistically possible world. In Machiavelli, there are no discussions of ideal cities ruled by virtue and philosopher kings, as there are in Plato's Republic, nor ones ruled by saintly men inspired by god, as in St. Augustine's The City of God. In both of these cases, the discussion is consumed with an abstract attempt to depict the perfect world. In Machiavelli, the virtues of citizenship, of communal participation and of knowledge of the ‘rules of the game’ are not replaced by idealistic or theocratic shortcuts. This is what has become known as Machiavelli’s realism, according to which, worlds where responsibility is delegated are prohibited: either we all take part in the fate of our civil society, or, conversely, suffer the consequences of a delegation of power which he deems necessary only in the absence of the abovementioned form of participation (Machiavelli, 1998, p. 104-106).

Indisputably, for Machiavelli, a republic is the best form of government, at least as long as everyone participates in a vigilant and conscious way. Otherwise, it is preferable to have an enlightened Prince to guide the people. Such a proposition might seem strange to contemporary notions of governance and democracy. However, during Machiavelli’s time, the organizational form of government, as we know it today, was yet to come. In fact, The Prince begins with “All the States and Governments by which men are or ever have been ruled, have been and are either Republics or Princedoms” (Machiavelli, 1992, p. 1). This opening statement reveals a basic, and yet understandable limitation to Machiavelli’s intellectual horizons. His practical examples are strictly limited to European history, whether of the antiquity or the contemporary world. It is therefore a futile and straining exercise to encapsulate modern notions of democracy and the equilibrium of power within Machiavelli.

Let us now turn to why Machiavelli has incurred the reputation of being a theoretician of authoritative power. Discussing the choice between cruelty and clemency, Machiavelli candidly declares that “A Prince should therefore disregard the reproach of being thought cruel where it enables him to keep his subjects united and obedient” (Machiavelli, 1992, p. 43). This sentence can easily be misinterpreted and characterize Machiavelli as evil. A deeper reading of the text however, reveals that this is not so. Elsewhere, he clearly declares himself against authoritarian techniques, unless this is required by precise circumstances. He says “When unrestrictive authority is given for long time…it may always be dangerous…” (Machiavelli, 1998, p. 197). Therefore authoritative means are, for Machiavelli, a necessary evil to facilitate the attainment of a common good, but they are nevertheless an evil. He never states that despotic actions constitute something 'good' in and of themselves and he explicitly considers the pathological tyranny of certain governments a fault of fickle populace and its inertia.

Machiavelli does view human nature to be corrupt such as when he states, “… legislating for a commonwealth it must needs be taken for granted that all men are wicked and that they will always give vent to the malignity that is in their minds when opportunity offers” (Machiavelli, 1998, p. 111-112). In this, he breaks with the Catholic philosophic tradition of St. Augustine and sets in motion a tradition that will see its apex in Hobbes’ concept of ‘homo omini lupus.’ This aspect of human nature, according to Machiavelli, is the basis of failure of governments that are prone to liberalism and collective legislating, but not the latter. Indeed, if it was possible to do away with individual arrogance, and the desire of more riches, the republican model would always be the best form of government. As he states, “If all things be taken into account, however, I am of opinion that…republics will be found to be more reliable than princes” (Machiavelli, 1998, p. 259). Just as popular participation in political life is, according to Machiavelli, the best recipe for government: “For when the populace is in power and is well-ordered, it will be stable, prudent and grateful, in much the same way, or in a better way, than is a prince, however wise he be thought” (Machiavelli, 1998, p. 254).

Once the Machiavellian aspiration for a strong and stable government is understood as a structure able to give unifying strength to a nation that is crumbling under endogenous as well as exogenous pressures, the objection of Machiavelli as theoretician of despotism or, as the question asks of evil, quickly falls. Having considered this, what other than a common good over individual priorities can the phrase ‘The end justifies the means’ be relating to? In this case, the Marxist criticism, and particularly that of Antonio Gramsci in The Modern Prince, seems accurate when it restores Machiavelli’s reputation as a theorist after a long period of harsh criticism coming from the Catholic Church. Since, with Machiavelli, we are indisputably at the heart of the genealogy of power, as later intended by Marx: either we admit that power, whatever it may be, is evil, and hence refute any of its expression, or else we accept its dynamics to guide and transform it so that all can act upon it.

Even the lesson Machiavelli draws from Rome, and the collapse of its republic, is a lesson between private interests and classes, and his modernity of thought can be summed up thusly: “…in every republic there are two different dispositions, that of the populace and that of the upper class and that all legislation favourable to liberty is brought about by the clash between them” (Machiavelli, 1998, p. 113). How could the concept of ‘evolving democracy’ be better described than through an understanding of a continuous movement in dialectic fashion between collective and individual interests? Even war, analyzed by Machiavelli as technological fact and instrument for political supremacy, achieves a positive connotation if it is a war for the liberation of the people, or means for the safeguarding of freedom. No nation is strong only because of the strength of its leader or its army, unless the constitution and the governmental structures are strong, and the civic sense of the population and the constant vigilance against autocratic governance or foreign interventions is present. Here, we find once again the common thread of Machiavelli’s thought, which recurs to Princes only in the absence of a participatory movement of the masses; the art of the possible, therefore, but with that which is desirable always in mind. A sort of renaissance realpolitik that takes us to the constitutional thinking of the birth of the modern state, as we intend it.

The Prince’s near interminable list of things to do and not do, the amount of advice on how to avoid hate and passion, choosing instead a constant cool until action becomes inevitable, are nothing other than an extreme invitation to a political vision that chooses stability, strength, and equilibrium in a context that is dominated by the interest of the few and micro-regional power aspirations.

The fox and the lion, contemporaneously, is the metaphor of intelligent and strong actions (Machiavelli, 1992 p. 46), but always in a spirit of the common good; even if the choice of the counselors of The Prince truly reflects the concept of a skilled navigator: “The choice of Ministers is a matter of no small moment to a Prince. Whether they shall be good or no depends on his prudence, so that the readiest conjecture we can form of the character and sagacity of a Prince, is from seeing what sort of men he has about him” (Machiavelli, 1992, p. 62). These words, still, are indications of a desire to enlarge power to a maximum extent, but always preserving its security and speed of action, because, obviously, there is no bureaucracy in Machiavelli’s ideal government. The maximum expansion of power, as is clear from The Discourses, is that of a republic; but a republic in which all citizens are called to civic sense and a level of collective participation in public life.

This is the last sense of Machiavellian thought, and Machiavelli’s ultimate estate, left for future conceptualizations of democracy. To think that Machiavelli is, as suggested by the question, a precursor to totalitarianism or a master of dictatorships, means forgetting all the weight he lends to citizen participation in public life. Only in the absence of such participation the government seeks shortcuts for individual autonomy regarding decision-making. It could be said that this is the case today as well. When we forget that democratic governance should represent the collective interest, abandoning true notions of civil society, then the danger of authoritarianism is always present, whether the social model is called princedom or modern democracy.


Bibliography

Machiavelli, Niccolò. (1998) The Discourses. London: Penguin Books, Ltd.
Machiavelli, Niccolò. (1992) The Prince. New York: Dover Publications, Inc.
Skinner, Quentin. (2000) Machiavelli: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Copyright
Thomas Carrozzier
April 5, 2006