From Shakespeare’s plays to modern TV dramas, the unscrupulous schemer for whom the ends always justify the means has become a familiar character we love to hate. So familiar, in fact, that for centuries we’ve had a word to describe such characters: Machiavellian. But is it possible that we’ve been using that word wrong whole time?
The early 16th century statesman Niccoló Machiavelli wrote many works history, philosophy, and drama. But his lasting notoriety comes a brief political essay known as The Prince, framed as advice to current and monarchs. Machiavelli wasn’t the first to do this– in fact there was an entire tradition of works known as “mirrors for princes” going back to antiquity. But unlike his predecessors, Machiavelli didn’t try to describe an ideal government or exhort audience to rule justly and virtuously. Instead, he focused on the question power– how to acquire it, and how to keep it. And in the decades after it was published, The Prince gained a diabolical reputation. During the European of Religion, both Catholics and Protestants blamed Machiavelli for inspiring acts of violence and tyranny committed their opponents. By the end of the century, Shakespeare was “Machiavel” to denote an amoral opportunist, leading directly to our popular use of “Machiavellian” a synonym for manipulative villainy.
At first glance, The Prince’s reputation as a manual tyranny seems well-deserved. Throughout, Machiavelli appears entirely unconcerned with morality, except insofar as it’s helpful or harmful to maintaining power. instance, princes are told to consider all the atrocities necessary to seize power, and to commit them in a single stroke to ensure future stability. neighboring territories and oppressing religious minorities are mentioned as ways of occupying the public. Regarding a prince’s personal behavior, Machiavelli advises keeping the appearance of virtues such as honesty or generosity, but being ready to abandon them as soon as one’s interests are threatened. Most famously, he notes that for a ruler, “it is much safer to be feared than loved.” The tract even ends with appeal to Lorenzo de’ Medici, the recently installed ruler of Florence, urging him to unite fragmented city-states of Italy under his rule.
Many have justified Machiavelli as motivated by unsentimental realism and a desire for peace in an Italy torn by internal and external conflict. According this view, Machiavelli was the first to understand a difficult truth: the greater good of political stability is worth whatever unsavory tactics are needed to attain it. The philosopher Isaiah Berlin suggested that rather than being amoral, The Prince hearkens back to Greek morality, placing the glory of the state above the ideal of individual salvation.
But what we know about Machiavelli might fit this picture. The author had served in his native Florence for 14 years as diplomat, staunchly defending its elected republican government against would-be monarchs.
When the Medici family seized power, he not only lost his position, but was even tortured and banished. With this in mind, it’s possible to read the pamphlet he wrote from exile not as a defense of princely rule, but a scathing description how it operates. Indeed, Enlightenment figures like Spinoza saw it as warning free citizens of the various ways in which they can be subjugated by aspiring rulers.
In fact, both readings might be true. Machiavelli may have written a manual for tyrannical rulers, but by sharing it, he also revealed the cards to those who would ruled. In doing so, he revolutionized political philosophy, laying foundations for Hobbes and future thinkers to study human affairs based on their concrete realities rather than preconceived ideals. Through his brutal and shocking honesty, Machiavelli sought to shatter popular delusions about what power entails. And as he wrote to a friend shortly before death, he hoped that people would “learn the way to Hell order to flee from it.”