Machiavelli: Discourses B
As any schoolboy used to know, the Greeks not only invented or brought to perfection most of the great arts of civilization—epic, tragedy, and comedy; classical architecture, sculpture, painting—but left behind monuments that have rarely been equalled and never surpassed. The history of philosophy, as Alfred North Whitehead once famously remarked, is a series of footnotes to Plato and Aristotle. This observation is, if anything, even more accurate in the case of political philosophy and theory. Even the bad theories of Epicurus (materialism, atheism, state of nature, social contract) are more brilliantly conceived than those of his modern imitators, Hobbes, Locke, and Marx. Marx, by the way, was well aware of his debt, since he wrote a thesis on Epicurus.
Naturally, the Greeks did not think of everything or eclipse all subsequent achievement. Vergil is as great in his way as Homer and Sophocles are in theirs, and there are even classicists who think that Shakespeare is fit to be named in the same sentence as Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. In political theory, perhaps the most important contributions have been made by Machiavelli and his disciples—a group that James Burnham discussed in one of his best books, The Machiavellians, perhaps the late Sam Francis' favorite book about politics.
Machiavelli advanced human understanding in many ways, but three of his most significant advances are associated with the words state, power, and liberty. The Greeks had not talked much about the nature and functioning of what we call the state. Aristotle did write a great deal about the nature of the city and the commonwealth, but of the state—a permanent institutionalized government that operates independently and often against the interests of the people of the commonwealth—he appears to know very little, except insofar as he is describing tyranny. But a tyranny, even a popular tyranny, is an illegitimate exercise of power, while the state defines legitimacy. The reason for the Greek and Roman silence-a silence preserved by St. Thomas—seems evident to me: the state is the creation of the later Middle Ages and the early Renaissance. There are at least two lines of development: the development of centralized monarchies in England, France, and Spain, which is fairly well known, and the less familiar development of the city-states of Tuscany. To condense a great deal of complicated history as succinctly and simply as I can, the republics of Pisa and Florence were the creatures of corporations, of, on the one hand, craft and mercantile guilds, and, on the other, of protective associations formed by rich and powerful families, initially aristocratic but later including the wealthier businessmen. The state, then, is the supercorporation that expresses the power of its constituents. This is in sharp contrast with the Athenian polis or even the Roman Imperium, which were conceived of as institutions that served the interests of the citizens.
The state is an instrument of power, the power exercised by the corporate members over themselves and, what is more important perhaps, over non-members or junior members. Thus in a state, politics is the pursuit of state power to use in your own interest and the interest of your family and allies. This fact is sufficient to explain what seems to be Machiavelli's obsession with power.
The ancients were very interested in political liberty, which they regarded as first, a commonwealth's freedom from external control, such as the control threatened by the Persian invasion, and secondly, freedom from arbitrary and abusive government. This is basically Machiavelli's understanding. For Florence to be free, she has to be free of foreign occupation, whether French, imperial, or papal, and freely governed by a broadly distributed elite class that does not too much abuse the lower orders. To maintain freedom, the political class (neither Aristotle nor Machiavelli were foolish enough to include the masses) had to exercise vigilance. It had to recruit and maintain a citizen army (mercenaries, as NM warned, were fickle and dangerous) and it had to be prudent in spending and taxing. Florence's wars of imperial conquest led to excessive debt, taxation, and, ultimately, to the opportunity for the Medici to buy the state.
Some of NM's most penetrating analysis of power and liberty is contained in the chapters (16 ff.) of Discourses I that take up the subject of the expulsion of the Tarquins and the establishment of the Roman Republic. NM is far from sanguine. A people that recovers liberty he compares with a caged animal returned to the wild, where it does not know how to survive. Since a corrupt people can never maintain its liberty, he says he will confine his attention to peoples who have not been completely corrupted.
The first obstacle to preserving liberty is the obvious fact that the friends of the former tyrant (or tyrannical government of whatever type) are now the enemies, whether foreign or domestic. In Rome, the young aristocrats had enjoyed wealth and prestige at the court of the Tarquins, and they were ready to conspire for the restoration of the Etruscan dynasty, which was naturally being supported by Etruscan cities. Even the sons of the liberator, Lucius Junius Brutus, were among the conspirators, whom their father the consul had put to death. The problem with a free government is that in principle it rewards merit and not connections, an intolerable situation for those who depend upon affirmative action programs based on race, sex, or—in this case—family connections.
There is another, perhaps more serious problem. Most people are content to lead quiet lives, minding their farms or businesses, taking care of their families, and their only interest in the regime is fair and just application of the law. But a privileged minority, by contrast, has lots of free time to devote to one object: acquiring disproportionate power. For this reason, the majority is always at a disadvantage.
NM's powerful insight is an instance of what the great economist Mancur Olson called "the logic of collective action." In a so-called democracy, the disinterested majority is always at a competitive disadvantage vis-a-vis disciplined minority groups that devote themselves singlemindedly to their own interests. The obvious examples, in our own society, are the various lobbying groups that bribe Congress and presidential administrations to gain favors for their backers—the auto manufacturers, the labor unions, physicians, environmentalists, teachers, welfare dependents, criminal lawyers (ambiguity intended).
The result, in an older democracy such as Britain or the US, is stagnation and gridlock. When all the parties involved have bought a piece of the law, reform becomes impossible. The best thing that can happen, then, is to lose a destructive war, as Japan and Germany did. Not only did they have to rebuild their industrial base and economies, but also the shattered institutions of corrupt democracy. Hence their rapid growth in the 1950's and 60's. On the other hand, the good news is that gridlock is the only thing that has prevented the complete socialization of the US economy. Take the Obamacare proposal. It probably never stood a chance unless it catered to the insurance companies, major health care providers, and the AARP. Naturally, many of these interested groups said they wanted reform. If they had not said so, they would not be at the table where the pie was being carved up. But once at the table, each group has its own knives, forks, plates and measuring calipers. (Any attempt to start a discussion about healthcare or Obama will be removed immediately.)
Princes who seek to avoid the restoration of liberty should take note of the fact that most people only wish to be let alone without actually attaining real power. In any republic--he is thinking, now, of Athens, early Rome, Medieval Florence--only 40 or 50 people have any share in power. We might multiply that figure by 10 or even 100, and we would get some sense of the political elite in the US, which does not include most members of Congress.
NM drives home his point about a corrupt people being unable to recover their liberty by pointing out (I.17) that after the deaths of tyrannical emperors, the people could not be aroused by the senatorial/Stoic opposition to the imperial system. Where a people is predominantly healthy, even riots and tumults do little harm, whereas in an unhealthy people, the best that can be hoped for is the emergence of a strong man like Epaminondas of Thebes. I would add rulers like Augustus, Vespasian, and Trajan.
But is it possible for a corrupt people, even if it cannot recover liberty, to take measures to maintain it.(I.18). This is not a mere question of good laws, because good laws are derived from good customs, and once the habits of a people are bad, laws cannot change their character. This is very close to one of the important lessons Clyde Wilson has been explaining to those who will listen to his wisdom, that a sound constitution is an expression of national character and not vice versa.
Reform is always difficult, whether it is made all at once or gradually. A gradual reform requires a ruler or legislator who can spot, like a prophet, the germs of mischief at an early stage, while a sudden reform requires a man of very high character and ability. In any event, at the degenerate stage of a nation's history, he argues, only a strongman can effect wholesome change and preserve a government of law.
To be continued in this place
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I often wonder which is more foolish, for the average citizen to ignore politics and be legislated into servitude or to try to get involved given the vast advantages of incumbent legislators and the special interests who buy them. Once in a while the general population get aroused enough to halt an overreaching plot such as the Bush immigration "reform" but such victories are rare and often temporary and it is hard to argue America is not completely corrupted by now. Given the finite resources of time we have, perhaps even thinking about the question is time wasted.
I do not believe the Machiavellian concept of citizen armies has panned out in the way he foresaw. True citizen armies are a product of the French revolution and the need for greatly increased manpower for the large scale wars fought since then. These mass armies necessarily put power in the hands of the masses. The pre-revolutionary kings relied on professional soldiers and mercenaries to do their dirty work. These gentlemen proved no match for the new-style army (as the English cavaliers were no match for Cromwell's New Model army).
I do not believe the Machiavellian concept of citizen armies has panned out in the way he foresaw. True citizen armies are a product of the French revolution and the need for greatly increased manpower for the large scale wars fought since then. These mass armies necessarily put power in the hands of the masses
I would hesitate to call what results from mass conscription "a citizen army." As for a conscript army putting power in the hands of the masses -- this seems to contradict the facts as well.
"The best thing that can happen, then, is to lose a destructive war, as Japan and Germany did. Not only did they have to rebuild their industrial base and economies, but also the shattered institutions of corrupt democracy."
Two comments here. First, what also helped each country's industrial base was that each was limited to devoting only 1% of GDP to defense, compared to 10% of America's during much of the Cold War, and about 8% today (if honest numbers were used). They built Porsches and Corollas instead of M1s and F-16s.
Second, as to the surrender and conquest, one must also consider Germany and Japan's low birth rates, well below replacement; in Japan's case MacArthur even forced them to legalize abortion. The U.S. military occupation -- which continues to this day, 64 years after the war ended -- is debilitating to each nation's sense of manhood. Imagine what American men would be like if, every few months, foreign tanks drove up and down our Interstates on their way to maneuvers. Somebody should write a book on this topic.
The lesson of Japan and Germany is that the best policy is to keep jingoes out of power, something Americans have yet to learn.
Let me add that I am enjoying this series immensely. It's a dollop of sanity in an ocean of political swill.
@2 and 3: couldn't a modern conscription/bribery army such as that of the United States be considered more accurately "Mercenary"--paid to execute the perverse will of a degenerate post-Calvinist political class? The reportedly low morale amongst soldiers in Iraq would seem to confirm this.
@4: Monsieur, with all due respect, have you met many of the boys of the up and coming generation? Most of them are divided between metrosexuality and a nihilistic frat-boy blood thirst.
Comment #2 is a perfect example of what we are trying to avoid. First, it begins with an irrelevant connection to modern times, which is then compounded by a counter-factual assertion (that citizen armies are the product of the French Revolution. clouded by an ahistorical analysis of the English Civil War. Please, no more of this. Mr. Chan, as always, has been helpful in clearing the air. The Athenians at Marathon and Salamis were neither mercenaries nor conscripts, nor were the Romans who conquered Italy south of the Po. Finally, it is a complete misunderstanding of Medieval society to describe feudal commanders and their troops as professionals or mercenaries.
John, the interpretation of Germany and Japan's recovery is Olson's not mine, and I have oversimplified into a sentence what he discusses at some length in several chapters. Your observations are certainly correct, but I wonder how much of US industrial growth was in the military-industrial sector.
What, if I may ask, does Machiavelli see coming AFTER the special interest gridlock (if anything)? And how does the rise of ideology and mass immigration change his predictions? How should all this inform the way we live? I can't fathom a far-sighted aristocracy arising out of a massive economic or military disruption. What institutions would produce it?
If, per Machiavelli, the political institutions that are right for a virtuous society are necessarily different from those needed for a corrupt pig sty of a society like ours, and if the institutions beneficial to a virtuous society often become harmful to that society once it becomes corrupted (as is the case in modern America), and it is extremely difficult or impossible to change those institutions after the corruption has taken place, and this problem is compounded by special interest gridlock, then where does that leave modern America?
It would seem the remedy would be monarchy or dictatorship, but Machiavelli himself disillusions us of any hope for a Franco or Pinochet saving us because once our Franco dies, then everything begins to fall apart again.
It would seem that the solution, then, is what is suggested by Dr Fleming: let the gridlock remain (which we will have to do anyway, since we cant do anything about it), then wait for the catastrophe, which is sure to come given the direction in which we are heading.
Regarding Germany and Japan, a downside to the benefit of losing a war was that the loss of gridlock opened the way for the left to destroy society. That indicates that we need a catastrophe that completely neuters the left, and no left wing conqueror to impose reconstruction on us.
@ 9
Yet it seems to me that good institutions (e.g. the Church) only enhance their positions in a time of crisis if they were strong before that crisis. The Church, I believe, was strong in late Rome and remained the one strong force after its collapse. In the past few centuries every crisis in the West has weakened the good institutions until we reached our present mess. Wouldn't catastrophe just turn us into another basket case country like Russia? The same squabbling, but over fewer resources.
Considering the nature of American people today, you may well be right, Chesterbelloc. Even so, it would be a start.
Added:
Princes who seek to avoid the restoration of liberty should take note of the fact that most people only wish to be let alone without actually attaining real power. In any republic--he is thinking, now, of Athens, early Rome, Medieval Florence--only 40 or 50 people have any share in power. We might multiply that figure by 10 or even 100, and we would get some sense of the political elite in the US, which does not include most members of Congress.
NM drives home his point about a corrupt people being unable to recover their liberty by pointing out (I.17) that after the deaths of tyrannical emperors, the people could not be aroused by the senatorial/Stoic opposition to the imperial system. Where a people is predominantly healthy, even riots and tumults do little harm, whereas in an unhealthy people, the best that can be hoped for is the emergence of a strong man like Epaminondas of Thebes. I would add rulers like Augustus, Vespasian, and Trajan.
But is it possible for a corrupt people, even if it cannot recover liberty, to take measures to maintain it.(I.18). This is not a mere question of good laws, because good laws are derived from good customs, and once the habits of a people are bad, laws cannot change their character. This is very close to one of the important lessons Clyde Wilson has been explaining to those who will listen to his wisdom, that a sound constitution is an expression of national character and not vice versa.
Reform is always difficult, whether it is made all at once or gradually. A gradual reform requires a ruler or legislator who can spot, like a prophet, the germs of mischief at an early stage, while a sudden reform requires a man of very high character and ability. In any event, at the degenerate stage of a nation's history, he argues, only a strongman can effect wholesome change and preserve a government of law.
To be continued in this place
Do you think NM's opinions were at all shaped by the corruption to Church and state from the dual papacy that was still recent history?
What did NM mean by "inequality"? Well into the third book I see no further mention of it, yet at the end of 1-17 (Penguin Classics) he puts "the inequality one finds in a city" ahead of a people's feeling secure as to their liberty and not having any more enemies strong enough to fear as the cause of their corruption, and suggests it is necessary to restore equality even though this will require taking "steps which are by no means normal". Is this simply the unequal distribution of virtue among men, which allows the return to disorder upon the death of the rare virtuous reformer?