NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI, HERO OR VILLAIN?

Considered a master of manipulation, was Machiavelli a conniving political exile or a misunderstood, disillusioned satirist?

Hailed as the father of modern politics, Niccolò Machiavelli has long been synonymous with everything bad about the political sphere. His name, turned adjective as ‘Machiavellian’, conjures up images of a cunning, sly and manipulative figure, hell-bent on achieving their own goals regardless of the means of getting there. But was the man behind the legend really as cruel as his legacy makes out?

Interestingly, Machiavelli’s reputation varies from country to country. Tarred as a schemer, he has gone down in English-speaking history as the first of the slimy, slippery politicians – yet in his home nation of Italy, any notion of this historical bias is shed and the man is seen for what he really was: an innovator whose views were far ahead of his time – by 500 years, in fact. To this day, Machiavelli’s philosophical insights into the world of politics have shaped modern ruling, and his observations are just as relevant as they were in the 15th century.

Born in 1469, little is known of Machiavelli’s childhood except that he grew up on his father’s estate on the outskirts of Florence, where he received an education fit for an up-and-coming Florentine diplomat. A centre of philosophical thinking, Florence provided Machiavelli with an exceptional humanist education. But this hub of culture was in a perpetual state of tumult. Florence had served as the origin of the Italian Renaissance less than a century before, and with the rise of the Medicis in the early 1400s, the city prospered and grew. Yet as Florence thrived under Cosimo de’ Medici, the state faced constant strife with its neighbouring districts, while on the horizon, foreign invasion looked imminent. Enduring peace was a distant dream. By 1494, the Medici had been expelled from Florence, and it was in this harsh, unstable environment that Machiavelli thrived.

In 1498, the intellectual attended sermons and speeches by Girolamo Savonarola, a preacher whose views went against the grain. Savonarola preached against the corruption of the pope, among other topics, and was hanged later that year, accused of being a heretic. Merely days later, Machiavelli found himself in charge of Florence’s foreign affairs as the head of the second chancery. How exactly this young man entered such a high position in government without known prior experience confounds historians to this day, but his tenure lasted until 1512, when the Medicis returned to power.

During the eight years that the Medici family was exiled, Machiavelli’s political career went from strength to strength. He won the favour of the chief magistrate (gonfalonier), Piero Soderini, whom he convinced to found a militia in 1505, which reduced the city’s reliance on mercenaries. Created by Soderini, the militia was run by Machiavelli. On top of this, Machiavelli made visits to renowned figures, including Cesare Borgia (whose political prowess influenced much of Machiavelli’s early writing, and later inspired part of his most notorious work, The Prince), Charles VIII of France and several reigning popes of their time.

It was in 1503 that Machiavelli began to write seriously. His poem – the first Decennali, which was part one of a two-part poetry epic on the history of Florence – was finished a year later. Yet behind the scenes of Machiavelli’s high-flying diplomatic career there were cunning forces at work. Pope Julius II had enlisted Spain in his war against France under the Holy League, and in early September, he commanded his general, Ramón de Cardona, to seize Florence. With that achievement, the House of Medici was restored.

This spelled catastrophe for Machiavelli. Falsely accused of conspiracy, he was arrested and tortured by his captors, allegedly on a rack. He fiercely denied any involvement in the plots against the Medici, but Machiavelli was kept imprisoned. Yet fortune was on the diplomat’s side, as Pope Julius II died in February the following year. Under the new pope, Leo X – who incidentally hailed from the line of ruling Medicis – celebrations were organised and an amnesty was agreed. Machiavelli was free. The cost, however, was dear – he was banned from the city of Florence and ordered to retire to his family estate on the outskirts of the city. It was during this exile that Machiavelli began to pen his most famous works, including the controversial comment on politics that still rings true to this day, The Prince.

Confined to his estate outside of Florence, Machiavelli pondered how to weave his way back in to the political landscape of the city and came to a conclusion: he would write a guide to politics as he’d experienced it during his diplomatic career. In 1513, he completed The Prince and dedicated it to Lorenzo the Magnificent, the newly proclaimed ruler of Florence and head of the Medici family. To this day, the exact purpose of the dedication is debated – was it to flatter the ruler in an attempt to have himself reinstated, or was it an intellectual satire, mocking the politics of the city from which he’d been exiled?

Either way, the book was enough to cause scandal when it was published in 1532, five years after Machiavelli’s death. In The Prince, Machiavelli split his work in to two parts – the first was devoted to methods of gaining power, while the second (and arguably most important) section offered advice on how to hold on to power when you had it. It was this book and its controversial statements for which Machiavelli is best remembered – and not fondly.

Aside from providing a description of the qualities that any ruler should have, The Prince also posed a very serious moral question: was it better to keep your moral integrity intact and lose power, or to compromise, using your cunning and wit, regardless of the method, in order to achieve your goals?

Two chapters in particular fanned the flames of controversy. In Chapter 18, entitled ‘Concerning The Way In Which Princes Keep Faith’, Machiavelli wrote that while it is admirable to attempt to be a virtuous ruler, sometimes it is necessary to employ less-than-moral means to succeed; that for the sake of ultimate good, sometimes you need to be bad. Here, Machiavelli claimed, “A prince being thus obliged to know well how to act as a beast must imitate the fox and the lion, for the lion cannot protect himself from traps, and the fox cannot defend himself from wolves. One must therefore be a fox to recognise traps, and a lion to frighten wolves.”

Chapter Seven, titled ‘Concerning New Principalities Which Are Acquired Either By The Arms Of Others Or By Good Fortune’, also appalled readers. Machiavelli seemed to advocate murder as he recounted the story of the Duke of Valentinois, Cesare Borgia, conquering Cesena in Romagna. Having employed Remirro de Orco as his deputy, Borgia commanded him to pacify and subdue the town with force, and he used brutal tactics, such as beheadings and castrations, to bring peace to the region. The town was tamed but the residents despised Orco, so Borgia had his deputy cut in half and displayed in the town piazza in order to curry favour. With the brutality over, Borgia reduced taxation and invested in the town through the creation of a theatre and carnival. This was served up as the perfect example of where the ends (ultimate peace, protection and prosperity for his people) justified the means (mass murder and mutilation).

After completing The Prince, Machiavelli moved on to other writings, including Discourses On Livy, Art Of War and The Mandrake Root, among others. If The Prince really was a cunning ploy to impress, then it never fulfilled its purpose. In all likeliness, Lorenzo the Magnificent never read Machiavelli’s masterpiece, and until his death in 1527 at the age of 58, the exiled politician remained confined to his estate, never to return to the political sphere. Yet while in life he failed as a politician, Machiavelli’s writings have inspired generations of leaders – both good and bad. Among the tyrants and dictators of contemporary history who studied The Prince – including Stalin and Mussolini – the work has inspired some of modern culture’s most iconic creators, including George RR Martin, the author of the books that inspired TV fantasy series Game Of Thrones.

To this day, Machiavelli’s writings remain relevant – perhaps more so in today’s political climate than ever before. The rules of power haven’t changed in over 500 years of politics. What has changed are the faces that mask the true nature of being a politician – those shrewd, Machiavellian schemers that embody the truths of Machiavelli’s writing – but perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.

Written by Philippa Grafton in "All About History", UK, issue 48, 2017, excerpts pp. 76-79. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.