Moreover, the maxims given in chapters 15-18 are based entirely on the assumption that, since a distinction between politics and ethics is unacceptable to the public, a ruler mustconcern himself with conventional moral principles. If the preservation of power were an end that justified anymeans—and indeed, it is the highest end toward which the advice in these chapters is directed—there would be no need either to question conventional morality or to speak of “evil” when describing the actions of rulers. In this sense, Machiavelli did not entirely repudiate the moral legacy of Christianity. For had he disregarded it entirely, he would have undermined the realism that is so fundamental to his political thought. On the other hand, his admiration for ancient Rome did not prevent him from rejecting classical political philosophy, nor did it lead him to seek the solution to the problem of the relationship between politics and morality in an alleged pagan ethic which demands the sacrifice of the individual for the good of the commonwealth.

Thus it is impossible to ignore morality, but it is equally impossible to ignore the threat it poses to politics and the political order. This dynamic makes for a subtle, complicated game that is played over the chasm separating rulers from the ruled. The only way to bridge the gap between expectations and the imperative not to fulfill them is by the intelligent use of hypocrisy, deception, and intimidation. A ruler must be sometimes a lion and always a fox, a “great pretender and dissembler.”⁴⁹ This advice is not intended only, or even mainly, to reinforce one or another ruler’s grip on power; for any regime faces the same quandary. Thus while Machiavelli’s instructions may be of use to one or another particular ruler, good or evil, they are above all intended to serve the good of the state as such, and of political order in general.⁵⁰

 

Ultimately, Machiavelli’s approach to the relationship between politics and morality puts us face to face with the question of why, exactly, governments must resort to immorality in order to survive—especially if their subjects expect them to be moral. Machiavelli provides the answer in the same chapters of The Prince in which he advises the ruler to violate moral principles while pretending to personify them. Immediately after stating that the ruler must emulate the fox and the lion, Machiavelli contends that all this would not be necessary or even advisable “if all men were good.”⁵¹ But this is not the case. Machiavelli attributes to subjects the same traits he recommends to their ruler: They, too, are “pretenders and dissemblers” (but not “great”). And because they “do not observe faith to you, you also do not have to observe it with them.”⁵² In Machiavelli’s view, a ruler is not being immoral when he preempts his would-be betrayer by betraying him first. Man’s nature makes him prone to betraying his fellow; his only true loyalty is to himself. The problem of betrayal is therefore a general one, not confined merely to the relationship between ruler and ruled. Machiavelli’s position is therefore infinitely pessimistic: “For a man who wants to make a profession of good in all regards must come to ruin among so many who are not good. Hence it is necessary to a prince, if he wants to maintain himself, to learn to be able not to be good....”⁵³

Politics derives from the nature of man as he is, not as he ought to be. The real problem, then, is not with politics, but with its objects.⁵⁴ There are, unquestionably, good men, but not enough to refute Machiavelli’s political calculus. “For one can say this generally of men: That they are ungrateful, fickle, pretenders and dissemblers, evaders of danger, eager for gain. While you do them good, they are yours, offering you their blood, property, lives, and children… when the need for them is far away; but, when it is close to you, they revolt. And that prince who has founded himself entirely on their words, stripped of other preparation, is ruined.”⁵⁵ Machiavelli’s political writings, literary works, and correspondence leave no doubt as to the depth and centrality of his anthropological pessimism.⁵⁶

It should be added here that when Machiavelli uses the word “evil” and equivalent expressions to describe human nature, he does not have in mind some pathological need to hurt others. The wickedness about which he speaks consists, rather, of selfishness, ambition, envy, fear, and avarice. But men tire not only of evil; good, too, quickly becomes dull and irritating. Men worry when things are bad and are bored when they are good, and both these sentiments lead to the same result: When men are not compelled to fight, they fight out of ambition—a hunger that can never be satiated. “Nature has so constituted men that, though all things are objects of desire, not all things are attainable.”⁵⁷ Hence men are always malcontent, subject to the tension between limited resources and unbounded ambition.

This view of human nature informs Machiavelli’s entire political teaching. Since men are by their nature both ambitious and selfish, it is impossible for them to build a society based on goodwill and genuine mutual recognition. Machiavelli’s views differ markedly in this regard from those of the ancient philosophers. According to Aristotle, for example, man is a social animal who fulfills himself through active involvement in the political commonwealth to which he belongs. To Machiavelli, however, man is essentially a beast, and the rational faculty he possesses is geared to attaining his own ends. Accordingly, virtue is a means and not an end. Man’s needs, desires, appetites, and fears are his main incentives to action, and not the conditions of the society in which he lives.⁵⁸

Human solidarity and world peace are on this account no more than utopian concepts that endanger those naïve enough to believe in them. Successful politics may at best create domestic harmony in a given society,⁵⁹ although such harmony almost always comes at the expense of another society. Though it is impossible to eliminate the evil in a society, this evil can at least be channeled toward other societies. “Ambition uses against foreign peoples that violence which neither the law nor the king permits her to use at home (wherefore home-born trouble almost always ceases).”⁶⁰ The Roman republic, for instance, owed its greatness in part to the ability to channel outward the energies that otherwise would have created internal friction.⁶¹ It is the nature of the world, concludes Machiavelli, that men cannot ensure their security except by force.⁶²

In such a world, moreover, no human society is truly secure, for there are always internal and external enemies that lie in wait. These dangers are not happenstance, but spring from the nature of man. Indeed, men themselves are the main reason for the instability of their world, and for the danger that constantly threatens their social order. Every society, every state, is ultimately doomed to decline. Nor are failure and weakness the only causes of a society’s demise. Prosperity, too, can lead to ruin, for it produces the illusion of security, which is always false. Such societies unfailingly lapse into the complacency and arrogance that lead in turn to a decline in personal discipline, a reduced willingness to obey laws, the abandonment of the general good, and, finally, a bitter end.⁶³

The primary cause of this atrophy cannot be eliminated, since human nature cannot be changed. It is nonetheless possible to forestall the inevitable and extend the life of a society. The way to do this—to revive a society that has fallen into the depths of political impotence—is to bring it back to its first principles: To the fear and the need for security that once prevailed among its citizens. Thus Machiavelli estimates that about once in ten years, harsh measures must be taken against those who pose a threat to the state, thereby sowing fear in the hearts of men and curbing their desire to give vent to their passions.

The struggle for survival is pitiless, and even the most impressive success cannot endure forever.⁶⁴ But the alternative is worse. Consequently, politics must address the ingrained human urges that threaten to demolish the social order from without and to subvert it from within. Thus, if for Aristotle, the objective of the state was to enable men to realize their human potential, for Machiavelli it is to prevent them from doing so.

 

The state, then, is a means to an end, not an ultimate value. For if it were a supreme end in itself, Machiavelli would not, as we have shown, have described as “evil” the means required to preserve it.⁶⁵ Nevertheless, if a prince “wins and maintains his state, the means will always be judged honorable, and will be praised by everyone. For the vulgar are taken in by the appearance and the outcome of a thing, and in the world there is no one but the vulgar; the few have a place there when the many have somewhere to lean on.”⁶⁶ That is to say, the masses that expect a ruler to behave morally are the very same masses that will applaud immoral behavior if it results in political success. Thus we see that moral principles do not reign supreme. A hierarchy of values, with politics at the top, is a necessary consequence of the fact that morality presupposes politics.