not that they are a moral pianist (even if perhaps they are). Likewise, the prince should be skilful as opposed to always moral.
If the prince was to follow the Christian virtues all the time, he would become predictable – and end up losing his position, probably to someone less good than him. So it is vital that the prince learns how not to be good sometimes.
Following the Christian morals was not necessarily bad in and of itself for Machiavelli; indeed, perhaps the prince should generally follow them. The problem arose for Machiavelli if the prince always followed them, he always kept his word, he always paid his debts, and so on. This would be because the prince would then become predictable, and his political opponents would always know what he was going to do, and he would be deposed. So if the prince wanted to keep hold of his position, he must learn how to sometimes do the opposite of the Christian morals; this was the skill that he must learn. It might be fine to always be moral if we always know that our opponents would be likewise; but they won’t and therefore we shouldn’t.
[T]he gulf between how one should live and how one does live is so wide that a man who neglects what is actually done for what should be done learns the way to self-destruction rather than self-preservation. The fact is that a man who wants to act virtuously in every way necessarily comes to grief among so many who are not virtuous. (Machiavelli, 1961: 91)
When Michelle Obama responded to criticisms of her and her husband, she famously urged her supporters not to resort to cheap shots by saying ‘when they go low, we go high’. Machiavelli would have had no problem with a politician generally staying high, but if one always stays high, one becomes predictable. It is always necessary for the politician to learn how to sometimes go low. Imagine for a moment that you, literally you, with your fair mindedness and a programme for social justice, wanted to become a political leader. All your friends, family and political supporters want it likewise; but everyone knows that you will face stiff competition from people wanting to put their schemes into place. Indeed, perhaps those schemes are the exact opposite of yours and will leave people worse off than your proposals. In this scenario, what is better? For you to not play the game of politics, remain virtuous and pure, but the people who would have benefitted from your proposals to be worse off. Or for you to play the game of politics, do a questionable act every now and again, and for your proposals to be put into action and for people to be better off? This is the dilemma that Machiavelli suggests is the real stuff of politics. One must, as a politician, learn not to always be like a fox (crafty, wily, cunning), nor always like a lion (scary, dominant), but instead learn the skill to judge when to act like a lion and when to act like a fox. You certainly cannot be successful in politics by being good all the time. ‘You can make this generalization about men’, Machiavelli states, ‘they are ungrateful, fickle, liars, and deceivers’, you cannot trust them, so governing by being good all the time will never work (Machiavelli, 1961: 96).
Machiavelli
Machiavelli was born in 1469 in Florence, modern-day Italy but then a city state, to a prominent, but not very wealthy, family. During Machiavelli’s lifetime, Florence oscillated between being a republic and being ruled by the Medici family, a dynasty of bankers and art patrons. As part of his duties in the Florentine republic, he met leading political figures of the day such as Cesare Borgia, Louis XII and Pope Alexander VI. It was here he became interested in the manner in which political rulers acquired and ruled their territories.
After the return of the Medici he was imprisoned and tortured for his alleged involvement in an assassination attempt. He then went to live on his farm outside of the city of Florence, where he started writing.
Machiavelli is best known for his work The Prince, which shows how princes should govern, and the Discourses, where he shows how republics should govern. It is in dispute as to which he favoured.
The enemy of the skilful prince is fortune; and many thought that any prince could be thrown off course by bad luck. Indeed, Stoic thought was popular when Machiavelli was writing; and Stoicism placed a lot of emphasis on luck. After you had prepared yourself for a certain activity, if luck prevented you from succeeding, Stoic philosophy invited you to shrug your shoulders and accept that so much of the world is out of your control. Machiavelli completely rejects this. Whereas fortune does indeed control a lot of one’s life (half of it, he suggests), it will control far more of the life of a weak unskilled prince than a skilled manly man. Fortune favours the brave, for Machiavelli. So he suggests:
She shows her potency where there is no well regulated power to resist her, and her impetus is felt where she knows there are no embankments and dykes built to resist her. (Machiavelli, 1961: 130–1)
So far from our discussion, we might be tempted to conclude that the purpose of politics for Machiavelli is for the prince to keep power, and that the prince is entitled to do anything to do this. This is not the case, even though his reputation often makes people think this is so. The purpose of politics for Machiavelli is glory; to be a glorious leader and to lead a glorious state. The Prince is full of examples of leaders from Machiavelli’s time and from antiquity that he thinks we can learn from. What politicians should do is learn from these leaders about the nature of glorious leadership in the hope that future generations might look to your example to learn about politics. Like an art student who copies an old master to learn the excellence of painting, Machiavelli invites the reader to attempt to provide future generations with an example of glory to follow.
Take his description of Agathocles, the man who showed ‘much audacity and physical courage’ to rise from an obscure position to become King of Syracuse, for example (Machiavelli, 1961: 62). To take power, he rounded up the politicians and wealthy citizens and had them summarily executed, and faced no internal opposition thereafter. He held on to power for some time, and won many magnificent military victories, so in some ways might be seen as the archetypal Machiavellian ruler, showing as he did ingenuity to tame fortune. This is not, however, Machiavelli’s conclusion on his reign. Machiavelli states that it ‘cannot be called prowess to kill fellow citizens, to betray friends, to be treacherous, pitiless, irreligious. These ways can win a prince power but not glory’ (Machiavelli, 1961: 63, my emphasis).
The fifteenth-century Italian politician Cesare Borgia, on the other hand, receives high praise from Machiavelli. In particular, he singles out one episode in his career that was worthy of special mention of praise, indeed singling it out as worthy of ‘close study and imitation by others’ (Machiavelli, 1961: 57). Borgia captured Romagna (an area in the north of modern-day Italy) and appointed his trusted servant Remirro de Orco to govern the area. Romagna had a history of anarchy in the past, so Borgia instructed de Orco to govern sternly and assert the authority of the state. Borgia’s instructions were carried out well and de Orco ‘pacified and unified’ the area ‘winning great credit for himself’ in the process (Machiavelli, 1961: 57). Borgia sensed a problem. The objective of restoring law and order had been achieved, but due to the severe methods de Orco had used, methods that were at Borgia’s insistence, there was a growing sense of hatred towards Borgia in the area. Borgia’s methods here deserve to be quoted in full:
Agathocles vs Borgia
Agathocles was cruel and merciless – and although he held onto his power, he was not glorious as he is remembered as a tyrant. Borgia on the other hand committed a savage act, but is remembered as a glorious ruler. Glory places a limit on what the prince can do for Machiavelli.
Knowing … that the severities of the past had earned him a certain amount of hatred, to purge the minds of the people and to win them over completely he determined to show that if cruelties had been inflicted they were not his doing but prompted by the harsh nature of his minister. This gave Cesare a pretext; then, one morning, Remirro’s body was cut in two pieces on the piazza at Cesna, with a block of wood and
