On Power Page 7

  NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI

  THE REALIST

  We are much beholden to Machiavelli and others that write what men do, and not what they ought to do.

  —Francis Bacon

  In January 2013, Pulitzer Prize–winning author Jared Diamond told the New York Times Book Review that if he could recommend one book to the president of the United States, it would be Machiavelli’s The Prince. As he told the Times:

  Machiavelli is frequently dismissed today as an amoral cynic who supposedly considered the end to justify the means. In fact, Machiavelli is a crystal-clear realist who understands the limits and uses of power. Fundamental to his thinking is the distinction he draws between . . . the sphere in which a statesman can influence his world by his own actions [and] the role of chance beyond a statesman’s control. But Machiavelli makes clear . . . that we are not helpless at the hands of bad luck. Among a statesman’s tasks is to anticipate what might go wrong, and to plan for it. Every president (and all of us nonpoliticians as well) should read Machiavelli and incorporate his thinking.

  Niccolò Machiavelli was born in Florence, Italy, in 1469, the son of Florentine nobility. He lived during a tumultuous time when Italy was divided into four competing city-states, and various popes battled with France, Spain, Switzerland, and the Holy Roman Empire for control of Italy. When he began his writing he was a junior squire, and even at this young age he observed the way that his fellow youths would battle for superiority in their social circles. He would eventually write in his History of Florence that his peers at the time made it a priority “to speak with wit and acuteness, whilst he who could wound others the most cleverly was thought the wisest.” This observation has modern resonance. Think about any presidential debate you’ve seen in the past decade, or any schoolyard roast battle, or any competition between two men trying to impress a woman at a bar. Think about who tends to win: those who “wound others the most cleverly.”

  After the powerful Medici family fell in Italy, Machiavelli became a diplomat, and things were good for a while—he was climbing the rungs of power, one by one. The safest place for him to be was alongside the highest families in the state. As we’ve covered: show me your friends and I’ll show you your future. In the free state of Florence, he did his best to ingratiate himself, though not without conflict, and to assimilate into the upper crust. This is a smart thing to do, and you should do it too. Not necessarily with politicians—you should hang out with anyone who has what you want. With the momentum he had, he was poised to gain real power and prestige. Yet it was not to be.

  When an uprising restored the Medici family to power on September 14, 1512, Machiavelli’s strategy of allegiance backfired. He was imprisoned for conspiracy against the Medicis, and he was physically tortured. The next time you think your life’s unfair because you got fired, maybe think about what that must have been like for him. Maybe your rent is late and the debt collectors are calling, but it could be worse. The kind of torture that Machiavelli faced is worse than any of the problems we are likely to face in our quest for power today.

  There is a lesson here as well. Above all, Machiavelli seemed to consider himself a realist, and so must you. He knew that life was unfair, and though one can guard oneself against the slings and arrows of fate in many ways and build the best suit of armor possible, there are forces of nature at work (which he referred to as “fortune”) that sometimes upset all our plans, no matter how well we take advice or how smart we are or how strong we become. He knew that it was not only important to be prepared, but to roll with the punches when preparation fails. Even if you do everything right, shit still happens, if you’ll pardon my French.

  Machiavelli was eventually released from prison and permitted by the pope to formally retire in Tuscany. It was in the aftermath of these bitter and trying times that he did the writing that would eventually become his legacy. Another lesson exists here: If times are tough, and you can’t seem to catch a break, create a job or an occupation for yourself. Find some way to use the resources and the abilities that you do have. There is no such thing as “free time,” there is only more time in which to pursue the things you want. Machiavelli reflected on the tough realities he had experienced and wrote what would become the foundation of his most famous work, The Prince. At that point, he had witnessed firsthand how unfair the world could be and how cutthroat even the most civilized societies were at their core, especially within the ruling class.

  Machiavelli was eventually approached by Cardinal Giulio de’ Medici to write the history of Florence. Five years later, upon finishing the commission, he was on his way to restoring his name to good standing with the Medici family, and climbing back into power, even after all he had been through. Machiavelli had revived himself—and his good name—through his writings. Then, in 1525, following the Battle of Pavia, the French were defeated, Rome was sacked, and once more the Medici family was banished from Florence. Machiavelli returned to Florence in hopes of regaining his old position as secretary to the second chancery, but he fell ill and never got the chance. Again: do everything right, and reality will still, often, intrude. Life is unfair. Even for Machiavelli. He died in 1527 and was buried in the Church of Santa Croce in Florence, alongside some of the most influential Italians throughout history, including Galileo and Michelangelo. During his lifetime, he could never have imagined the level of renown that his writings would earn him, and today he is regarded by many as the founder of modern political science.

  Not bad for someone who is popularly considered the author of the “bad guy” manifesto. In The Prince, Machiavelli famously asserts that when it comes to maintaining political power, the ends always justify the means—no matter how violent or immoral those means might be. Today, the term Machiavellian makes people think of power-hungry villains and their many abuses. Machiavelli’s worldview is referred to as consequentialism. If you are someone who worries about the end result of your actions, and not quite as much about how you arrive at those ends, you may be a consequentialist. If you review the story of Machiavelli’s life, you will recognize this worldview, which Machiavelli had to maintain because he was constantly juggling allegiances and ingratiating himself to one regime, only to have that regime toppled by another, and then toppled again. Was his constant shifting of alliances cowardly? I don’t think so. In my view, it was practical. You do what you’ve got to do to succeed, in whatever world you find yourself in.

  Today, Machiavellian is used to describe fictional characters like Tony Soprano, Frank Underwood from House of Cards, Lord Varys from Game of Thrones, Walter White in Breaking Bad, and, of course, retroactively, Iago in Shakespeare’s Othello. These flawed “antiheroes” have seized our collective imagination, and we root for them while acknowledging that they do not always make the morally right decision. We root for them because we believe in their goals, even if we feel distaste for their means. Because we understand that the world is more complex and less perfect than we want it to be. Putting aside moral judgment for a moment, what do all these “villains” and “antiheroes” in fiction have in common? In my view, it’s their ability to get things done. In the business world, we would call these characters “doers” if we met them. They are productive, for better or for worse, and this is one of the things we find compelling about them.

  Reading The Prince inspired me to write this book, and I have a slightly different view of the term Machiavellian than many people do. When I read The Prince, I was fascinated by the descriptions I read of human nature, of how people behave, of how people in authority conduct themselves in the real world, and of how best to navigate this complex web. The reason I believe Machiavelli is important, and misunderstood, is because he was arguably one of the first writers to create a book that deals with people the way they are, as opposed to the way we wish them to be. The Prince asserts many shocking things as simple precepts, such as the idea that leaders should always mask their true intentions and “act against mercy, against faith, against
humanity, against frankness, against religion, in order to preserve the state.” Does this mean that Machiavelli is to blame for the violence and brutality that has racked the globe since he wrote his book? No. He was simply describing the world as it exists.

  People have been lying, manipulating, cheating, destroying, and betraying each other since the beginning of time. Machiavelli wrote a book with this in mind, about how you get by in a world where this is true. Before Machiavelli, political thought was based on moral philosophy—in other words, abstract ideas about right and wrong, which in theory sounds like a good place to start. But the world is not ideal, and the history of human civilization tells us that societies rise and fall under the weight of human error, and corruption and violence are the norm. Human beings are capable of making speeches about the highest virtue, only to commit the most heinous crimes the moment they leave the podium. “But it’s wrong,” you say, “it’s not fair.” You are absolutely right. So what now? Deny it? Pretend the world is fair? Or do you move forward with this knowledge? Machiavelli accepts that people lie, cheat, and manipulate, that it’s part of human nature. Instead of shunning these activities, he accepts them as an inevitable part of human existence and tells the reader how to sidestep and counter them. He says, “There is such a gap between how one lives and how one should live that he who neglects what is being done for what should be done will learn his destruction rather than his preservation” (emphasis mine).

  More than anything else, Machiavelli seems to have intended to write a practical guide on how one may come to rule. In the context of the book you’re reading now, “ruling” need not apply to nations. It can be applied to social, political, and professional settings, as well as to relationships. It is important to note that Machiavelli wrote The Prince in simple, easy-to-understand language. He wrote in Italian, not in Latin, which was the traditional written language at the time, in a move made for the sake of accessibility. Dante Alighieri, of Inferno fame, did the same thing. Both authors used what was then the common language in order to have their message reach the greatest number of people, as opposed to just a select cultural elite. The lesson here is that power lies in the masses, not in the niche. Whatever you want to achieve in the world, you should cast the widest net and have your approach be understandable and accessible to as many people as possible. Apple and Microsoft deal in computers, which were initially thought to be too complex and advanced for the common person. But through their sleek, simple interfaces and designs, these companies made computers easy to use, and an entire world revolving around the “personal computer” was born. Do this with language, do this with your product, do this with yourself. The masses are the only source of real power.

  Many argue that The Prince was intended to be satire, which is to say that it was intended to criticize dishonest rulers. Machiavelli devotes considerable effort to describing all the crucial mistakes a tyrant can make, with numerous passages about how to usurp such a ruler. For our purposes, it does not matter whether The Prince is intended as satire. It is a book about seizing power and how one can succeed and fail at it. Both sides in any conflict can read this work and glean strategy from it. And even if it is satire, the strategies, the subterfuge, and the tenacity described in The Prince all tend to work. Indeed, Machiavelli’s strategies have worked till today, though because of the negative press his name garners, public figures rarely admit it. It would be hard for me to describe a modern figure as Machiavellian without getting dragged into a Twitter argument.

  Regardless, let’s examine the strategies themselves and see if they sound familiar.

  PUBLIC PERSONA IS IMPORTANT

  In The Prince, Machiavelli describes politicians who court an appearance of being virtuous and idealistic while acting cynical/realistic in their policies. I don’t think I have to name names for this to sound familiar. Insert any politician or businessman’s name here. There are countless who come to mind. The fact remains that your reputation is a source of power, and if your past is a little checkered . . . that’s what PR companies are for. This idea, of course, leads Machiavelli to suggest that lying and deceiving are often necessary in order to garner public support. This conflict can be seen in our modern political process. Should we be shamelessly idealistic about the way we present ourselves, and possibly unsafe as a result? Or should we be pragmatic and compromise, or postpone, our higher virtues in favor of safety? Machiavelli suggests the latter with the appearance of the former, in order to sway public opinion. This is where he gets into trouble with critics.

  Pop culture has tackled this question. Consider the ending of Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight. Batman takes all the blame for Harvey “Two-Face” Dent’s crimes so that his good name as a politician, and thus his shining example, will be preserved for the good of Gotham City and to maintain hope. In this sort of situation, I side with Machiavelli. A worthy end goal is sometimes worth deception, even mass deception. If you appear trustworthy, and if people like you, you will be able to get things done. Perhaps this is not very honorable. Perhaps it is deceptive to appear to be kind and magnanimous in your everyday affairs if your only goal is to bolster your reputation. But if we are consequentialists, the end result is the only thing that really matters. Machiavelli writes: “Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are. And those few dare not gainsay the many who are backed by the majesty of the state.”

  I will become whatever kind of person I have to be to succeed. And so should you, because once you do succeed, if you really feel sore about how cynical the world is, you will have the power to change what you don’t like about the ladder you climbed up on, after you reach the top. Remember: put your oxygen mask on first, then help your children. To change the world, you must first gain the power to change the world.

  Let’s try a more relatable example of deception. If your boss says, “Look how great I look in my new suit,” it is my view that you’d better be ready to suck up whether he does or not. He holds the keys to the castle, and you want him to feel good around you. So yes, even if you hate his suit, you should lie to him, for the greater good of his self-esteem and your advancement. This is a lie everyone, more or less, can understand. Multiply that intuition a thousandfold and imagine the sorts of problems someone with true power, a world leader, a “prince,” must face on a daily basis in order to preserve diplomacy. Imagine facing impossible choices, and imagine coming upon situation after situation in which doing something regrettable, and lying about it, is the best course of action to prevent something worse or to prepare for something better.

  Welcome to the real world, where good guys must sometimes lie, where the underdog often loses to the powerful, and where we must all fight to survive.

  But what if you are the boss in this scenario? This leads to our next lesson:

  DO NOT SUCCUMB TO FLATTERY

  Just as it is important for you to flatter your boss, to gain power over him and to advance your career, it is important, if you are the boss, not to fall for the same trick yourself. In this example, you can clearly see the value in looking at the world with eyes that are truly morally neutral—this is about strategy, strategy, strategy. Is the underling wrong for flattering the superior? Is the superior wrong for failing to see through flattery? Neither question is of much importance in The Prince. The only question that matters is whether flattery and/or seeing through flattery is effective.

  Needless to say, flattery can blind us to someone’s true intentions and to the truth itself. If someone is worried about offending you, they may withhold or distort information that may be vital to you, for fear of repercussions or hurting your feelings. If you work in a creative field, this is poison. In Hollywood, there is a saying that you can “die from encouragement.” When a thousand people tell you the song you just recorded is “perfect” and “amazing,” they’re not responding to the song; they are responding to your presence and the feeling that pleasing you would be socially beneficial. You could go forward
with that “perfect, amazing” song and sell exactly zero records, because the truth eluded you in a cloud of flattery. This kind of praise does you no favors. So encouraging people to tell you the truth, while walking the line to make sure they still respect your authority, is important if you are in a position of power. As Machiavelli puts it: “There is no other way of guarding oneself from flatterers except letting men understand that to tell you the truth does not offend you; but when every one may tell you the truth, respect for you abates.”

  And lest you think that Machiavelli’s principles are only about the mean-spirited ways to seize power, I come to our next precept:

  EDUCATE YOURSELF AND BE WELL-ROUNDED

  This quote is my personal favorite, and I proudly spread this nugget of wisdom far and wide: “Take pains to study letters and music, for you see what honour is done to me for the little skill I have. Therefore, my son, if you wish to please me, and to bring success and honour to yourself, do right and study, because others will help you if you help yourself.” Why, yes, this applies specifically to me, a sixth grade teacher turned musician who is not classically trained but nevertheless excelled in the field of rock and roll, which led me to rub shoulders with people in other fields who have achieved excellence, which in turn allowed me to explore those fields: investing, acting, running businesses, producing, and even writing books, for example. It applies to me, who learned to speak English as well and better than native-born Americans in order to succeed, because I knew what powerful people tend to sound like.