
I expected to be far more shocked by this book than I was. Maybe it’s just that I’ve grown up in a world where Henry Kissinger’s view of statecraft is the predominant one, and that Kissinger is broadly Machiavellian. People normally use that word to mean “deceitful” or somesuch, but here it may be defined as “being realistic about means when ends are fixed.” The goal is for a new prince to maintain control over his state. With that goal in mind, how exactly is he to achieve it? Likewise, if you’re an American secretary of state, the goal is to keep the United States safe; how might you do that? Assume the goal is fixed, the means variable. If this is the way you think about things, Machiavelli is your man.
(If you’re raising your hand at this point and wondering how secretly bombing Cambodia makes the U.S. safe: yes, I know.)
What follows is a pamphlet-sized taxonomy of states, and how to govern them. Is the prince turning a pre-existing republic into a principality? He’s going to have a hard time with that: the people will be used to their freedom, and will not willingly submit to the prince’s rule. Did the prince have to kill the head of a family to assume the throne? Well then he’ll want to kill off the rest of that family as well; otherwise he’ll have a long line of people waiting to destroy him.
And so forth. It’s a remarkable little book, and quite fun to read. A large part of what makes it so fun is that it’s so clearheaded: Machiavelli ticks off types of states, types of governments, and the best ways to respond to each. At each step, he gives an example or two from the previous couple hundred years of Italian governance and war, and an example or two from the Roman Empire or Sparta. Indeed, if anything is missing from the casual empiricism of Renaissance writers, it’s any examples from a 900-year window starting at the Roman Empire and ending just before the Renaissance. They also don’t wander very far beyond Europe; they may touch on Turkey a bit, only long enough to frown on “Oriental despotism” or whatnot.
I’d love to see a modern writer in the Machiavellian tradition, attempting exactly the same taxonomy with modern knowledge. We’ve had centuries of wars and coups since Machiavelli’s time, we know more about the history of Rome and Greece, and we’re aware of continents outside of Europe. What would Condoleezza Rice write about practical statecraft?
Kissinger’s Ph.D. thesis, by the way — A World Restored: Metternich, Castlereagh and the Problems of Peace, 1812-1822 — is a beautiful piece of work. It’s a detailed analysis of the diplomacy that led Europe’s previously warring nations to band together and put France in its place after Napoleon’s defeat in the early 19th century. It’s definitely in the tradition of The Prince, though too focused on a single era to really capture the Machiavellian spirit.
Reading The Prince — finally! — reminds me that there was a period when I was obsessing over books of early American history and political philosophy, and on Florentine history. My books-read list suggests that this period started around August of 2006 with Gordon Wood’s The Creation of the American Republic, proceeded through Pocock’s Machiavellian Moment, and really ended with Burckhardt’s Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy. I read Eisenstein’s Printing Press as an Agent of Change on James Grimmelmann‘s recommendation, as a counterweight to Burckhardt, but it wasn’t connected to the “foundations of American political philosophy” thread.
So I don’t know what ever happened to that obsession. My to-read list contains 10 books of Florentine history, and I’ve got a few in queue at the library:
Not to mention that I went right from The Prince into Machiavelli’s Discourses on Livy. So maybe I can get some fire under this obsession this time around. I’ve been looking for something to obsess on after economics.
P.S.: I’m embarrassed to read my reviews of The Machiavellian Moment and The Creation of the American Republic. They don’t really say anything. I like to think I’ve learned how to write book reviews since then. Maybe now is the time to go back and reread those books. At least in the case of Pocock, I explicitly said that I didn’t understand what was going on.