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This unit on politics and morality is held together by the themes
of justice, morality, and politics, as they are set forth in Machiavelli's
Prince and Plato's Apology.
The Prince
In The Prince, written in 1513, Machiavelli
advocates the separation of moral and political orders, as the excerpt
on the previous page indicates. Machiavelli argues that a concern
with the morality of one's actions limits political effectiveness,
and might even harm an individual. Thus, he teaches that a "prince"
or political actor ought not hesitate to engage in immoral action
when he finds it to be politically necessary or expedient. Indeed,
Machiavelli redefines what is meant by "moral," just as
he redefines what is meant by "virtuous" action. It would
be immoral from Machiavelli's perspective to do what is harmful
to oneself and to one's community for the sake of upholding a moral
principle. So too does the "virtue" of a ruler consists
in performing those actions necessary for the sake of seizing and
maintaining power.
In the selections that we read Machiavelli discusses the specific
virtues of a prince, including the ability to act as both lion and
fox. While it is good to have a reputation for all the virtues if
possible, the prudent prince should not act virtuously if it means
the ruin of himself or his state.
One can easily understand why Machiavelli would be called a teacher
of evil, and be associated with an amoral power politics. Much of
his advice to those who want to rule is morally shocking, even today.
Nothing, however, is quite so simple. That the end justifies the
means does not mean that anything goes. Machiavelli was, after all,
trying to give the advice that would bring peace and unity to his
war-torn and disunited Italy.
The Apology
Our second reading dates back to the Greek world, in the fourth
century BC. The Athenian philosopher Socrates was brought to trial
and found guilty in 399 BC of doing injustice, by corrupting the
young and by not believing in the gods of the city. After Socrates
was executed, Plato explores the charges against of Socrates as
well as his philosophic life by writing The Apology of Socrates,
a defense speech of the sort that Socrates himself might have delivered
in court. In that work, Socrates gives an account of his search
for wisdom, his pursuing a virtuous life and urging others to do
so, and how he has become unpopular as a consequence. It is political
life itself, and not Socrates' teaching, Socrates suggests, that
corrupts the young. Although Socrates argues that a good person
cannot survive the corruptions of political life, his trial nevertheless
demonstrates that a good life inevitably brings one into political
conflict and dangers, just as Socrates' life devoted to philosophic
questioning entails obligations and duties toward others. By exploring
the character of Socrates' life, Plato offers an alternative vision
to Machiavelli's concerning the relations between morality and politics.
The readings thus raise questions of what is owed to one's political
community and what is owed to oneself. Should we pursue a political
career? And what would that mean for our happiness, and the good
of our own souls? Is justice good, and why? How much justice is
good for a ruler, and is it ever consistent with what is necessary
to rule effectively?
The readings and films in this unit can be used in any combination,
but we recommend beginning with the selections from Machiavelli's
Prince and Plato's Apology found in the first two sections, and
discussing the preliminary questions found therein. The readings
from The Prince are grouped by their relevance to the film and great
book selections. Section questions follow each reading and film,
and frequently ask the student to compare the work of that section
with the selections from The Prince and The Apology found at the
beginning of the unit.
Macbeth
Shakespeare's Macbeth might be seen as a didactic tale,
cautioning the reader against an excess of ambition. It is ambition
that consumes Macbeth and his "dearest partner of greatness,"
his wife, and sets them to the task of committing a series of murders
that escalate to the point that none of Macbeth's subjects can be
ignorant of his culpability in these many crimes. Our selections
include five scenes from Shakespeare's Macbeth. These are, however,
a rich and sophisticated picture of what executing the most horrible
cruelties can do to a man's conscience, soul, or self. Macbeth's
ambition causes him to take the Machiavellian divide between the
morally right and the expedient and push it to its logical outcome.
Shamed for his irresolution and encouraged by his wife, Macbeth
murders King Duncan in his own home, violating the "double
trust" Duncan had in him as his kinsman and subject. Once there,
however, Macbeth is not satisfied with simply possessing the throne,
but seeks to keep it in perpetuity-even into future generations.
This requires that he seek the death of Banquo's heirs, as Banquo,
it is foretold by the witches, will be the father of many future
kings. But Macbeth's ambition quickly turns to a madness that consumes
him with his sense of insecurity on the throne. He finds every slight
among his nobles cause to suspect them and he does not hesitate
to order the murder of Macduff's entire family in spite of the obvious
senselessness of fearing the wife and young children of the defected
thane.
Macbeth follows the advice of his wife, who acts as his Machiavellian
advisor. While Macbeth has the ambition to be king, according to
his wife, he is free of the "illness which should attend it."
That is, he possesses a conscience or a fear of upsetting a moral
order of which he is a part. His initial irresolution is a product
of knowing what committing such a deed might do to his soul or psyche.
He seems to be able to foretell the outcome for both himself and
Lady Macbeth, fearing that "Bloody instructions, which being
taught, return/To plague the inventor." Even his resolute and
cruel wife so suffers from her part in the murders that she kills
herself. Macbeth, in his last appearance on the stage before his
defeat, is equally in despair of the world and defiant of his fate.
The horror about him cannot match the horror within him.
But Shakespeare does not leave us with the despair of Macbeth.
The play closes with the ascent of Malcolm to the throne. By showing
us in an earlier scene Malcolm's testing Macduff's character, Shakespeare
dramatizes Malcolm's own character, and his worthiness to be king.
Like Machiavelli, Shakespeare is concerned with the character of
the ruler, but does he understand the ruler's virtues in the same
way as does Machiavelli? Moreover, Malcolm's personal merits complement
his rightful claim to the throne. Shakespeare adds legitimacy (whether
by inheritance or election) as a factor that justifies rule.
Also interesting about the exchange between Malcolm and Macduff
are the compromises that both are willing to make to overturn Macbeth's
tyranny. Macduff determines that certain, measured and well?managed
vices on Malcolm's part will not disqualify him as a good king-at
least one more worthy of Macduff's support than is Macbeth. And
Malcolm, as we have said, willingly employs a deception in order
to test Macduff's loyalty. Each thus seems to tempt the other, in
the manner that the witches tempted Macbeth. But, while neither
is uncompromising in his defense of virtue and truth, both Malcolm
and Macduff pass the other's test and prove themselves to one another
as free men, unwilling to sell themselves, each other, or their
country to present or future tyrants, whatever the personal profit.
Elizabeth
The first film clips selected for this unit come from the film,
Elizabeth, in which we meet the Machiavellian counselor Sir
Francis Walsingham. Walsingham, who was virtually a contemporary
of Machiavelli's, is remarkably well schooled in Machiavelli's teachings
as is demonstrated by his ruthlessness in the first clip. Walsingham's
murder of a young and (mostly) innocent boy, who did not have the
heart to carry out a murder which he had been paid or instructed
to commit is shocking. By the end of the film, however, the movie
allows us to appreciate Walsingham's virtues as well as his advice
to Elizabeth. If we have any affinity for Queen Elizabeth herself,
we must acknowledge her growth in wisdom and the strengthening of
her judgment for the difficulties she faced as a "new Prince"
as a result of Walsingham's tutelage.
Walsingham, furthermore, never tries to usurp Elizabeth's power.
We have no indication that he will ever be anything more than a
loyal and powerful advisor. This is most clearly demonstrated in
his desire to instruct her in the ways of a wise Prince, rather
than in commanding her as her former counsel Sir Walter is wont
to do.
Elizabeth's choice of Walsingham's counsel over Sir Walter's --
her choice in effect to remain (or become, as the very last scene
suggests) the Virgin Queen and never marry -- is itself an acknowledgment
of her adoption of Walsingham's counsel. Again, this seems to be
a great boon for England and its strength vis-a-vis the foreign
powers that were looking, through marriage or military conquest,
to subordinate her.
But for Elizabeth herself there appears to be an immense personal
cost to having strengthened England. Not only does she have a good
deal of blood on her hands, which appears to genuinely upset her,
but she comes to understand the necessity of being made, as it were,
of stone -- unmovable and untouched. Such a personal price is the
cost of a successful reign, according to Walsingham.
The one man it appears she would have wanted to marry, Lord Robert
Dudley, was himself a conspirator against her reign and she chooses
to keep him alive although she could justly have him executed. She
does not act out of love at that point. Tthis is no romantic movie
when the queen spares the life of the man she loves even though
he has betrayed her to the England's enemies. Rather, Elizabeth
keeps him alive, as she says, to remind her how "close she
came to danger." But, as the movie suggests, Lord Robert also
serves as a reminder of how far she is from happiness. Thus, while
we might admire her immensely and even be pleased with the gains
won for England-England's internal harmony and strength on the world
stage -- few of us might want to imitate Elizabeth if such a high
price must be paid for those ends. The glory (praise) that Elizabeth
attains is in fact what Machiavelli seems to promise the reader
of The Prince, but does he indicate so well as this film,
the price of that success and glory?
A Bronx Tale
A Bronx Tale, set in 1960's New York City brings the teachings
of Machiavelli somewhat closer to us than does The Prince, Elizabeth,
or Macbeth. C, a young boy who grows up learning Machiavellian lessons
from the local mob boss, is a Yankee fan living in a world not unlike
our own.
The wisdom and relevance of Machiavelli is demonstrated in the simple
lesson taught to C by Sonny about lending money. When C tries to
collect $20 owed him by an acquaintance, Sonny teaches him not to
be concerned about the right or wrong, the justice, of collecting
what is his due. Rather, by not collecting the debt, C will no longer
be bothered by Louie Dumps. He has "gotten off cheap."
This Machiavellian calculation of self-interest may not be noble,
but the film shows that Sonny's advice is preferable to that of
his men, who advise C to collect his money by going after Louie
with a baseball bat. And when C attempts to instruct his friend
Mario with his new-found wisdom about how to treat an annoying debtor,
Mario replies that he is "still gonna break his face."
While we might expect the alternative to Sonny to be someone concerned
with justice (the debt is owed to C), the film emphasizes the difference
between Sonny, who is neither petty nor over jealous for a just
outcome, with the intense pettiness and mean?spiritedness of some
of C's friends.
We must not overlook, however, the severity of Sonny's response
to the motorcyclists in the bar. Sonny's violence is not committed
(at least initially) in the heat of passion or rage. Nor is it born
of hatred or prejudice as is the violence of C's peers against blacks,
as is clear if we see the movie as a whole. Sonny's violence is
motivated primarily by the belief that such action is necessary
to keep order in his bar and to maintain his authority that the
motorcyclists attempt to undermine. Sonny gave the motorcyclists
every opportunity to avoid the beating they received, but the Machiavellian
instruction he has just given to C demonstrates that he supposes
that he has no choice but to act as he does. Sonny instructs the
lead biker, after finally taking a baseball bat to his head: "Look
at me, I am the one who did this to you. Remember me." It is
not only important for Sonny to make an example of these motorcyclists,
but he makes certain it is known that he has the force to back up
his authority, and that he does not fear using it.
Moreover, Sonny has in fact been like a father to C, as C himself
says. And, while C initially concludes that "no one cares"
when he sees that no one else in the funeral home is mourning Sonny's
death, the film does not end there. That C's father, Lorenzo, comes
in to "pay his respects to [C's] friend" causes C to recognize
that Sonny was in fact appreciated by not only him, but in a unique
way by C's father as well. Lorenzo acknowledges that Sonny had a
positive influence on his son-helping him "to grow up,"
even if it was "too fast."
In the end, C concludes that Sonny's talent was "wasted."
He thus lends support to his father's claim that making something
of oneself was in fact more complicated than following Sonny's too
simplistic claim that "the working man is a sucker."
Like Elizabeth, this film emphasizes the cost in human terms to
the "wise Prince." Sonny, like Elizabeth, believes he
too must be "touched by nothing" and insulated from the
need to trust others. He must count on his own wisdom, and the dependence
on himself he creates for his men, rather than the genuine bond
between himself and C, or any other. As Sonny says, "I give
[my men] just enough so they need me, but they don't hate me."
Again, while Sonny may have been right about his men, it seems that
C does in fact bear him genuine affection. That C chooses a different
life than Sonny is not only a rejection of him, it is a tribute
to him. He is better than he thought himself, and he is perhaps
better for the affection he bore C.
Primary Colors and City Hall
While again, the experience of C in A Bronx Tale seems to
be closer to us than the previous works which involved queens and
kings, envoys and battles, we might still ask whether what we learn
from the A Bronx Tale are not rules for mobsters and outlaws?
Both Sonny and C acknowledge that Sonny's life is not for C. Sonny
merely wants to give C "two educations"-- that of school
and that of the streets. But in neighborhoods that are not so tough,
is this second education necessary? So long as the law is present,
and one can fight or "contest" with laws, is Machiavelli's
teaching at all relevant to us?
The final two films show men interested in public life-ambitious
men by Machiavellian standards, who become involved in politics
to make a difference-even to make history. Henry, of Primary
Colors and Kevin Calhoun, of City Hall, are men with
noble ambitions. They are men who want to be and to do good. These
stories demonstrate the presence of the kind of competition in which
foxes engage in our everyday politics, and its effect on idealistic
men like Henry and Kevin. What advice would Machiavelli give to
these young men? And what advice would Socrates give to them?
When Henry comes to work for a Southern governor running for the
Presidency, he is faced with a dilemma: the very possibility of
achieving the kind of history?making changes which are both good
and desirable, is dependent upon the amorality of Governor Stanton's
campaign. How far can one compromise with morality in order to put
oneself in a position to do good, that is, even if the end justifies
the means, might not the means become everything? Does Henry grow
in wisdom, as does Elizabeth, and learn hard lessons about what
it takes to govern, or does he sell out? Where must one draw the
line? The two most appealing characters in that film draw the line
differently, Henry remaining in the campaign and seeing his candidate
to victory, his friend Libby, in despair, committing suicide. Is
Libby's despair warranted? Does Henry do the right thing? Is there
any other possibility if one wants to make a difference, to have
an effect on history?
We are left, like Henry, with the ambiguity of the film's message
and with Libby's repeating Stanton's own words to him twenty?five
years later, "Our job is to end all that. Our job is to make
it clean. Because if it is clean, we win-because our ideas are better."
Is Libby's a foolish idealism or a noble aspiration, or both?
In City Hall, Kevin rejects the Mayor's criminality, but
not the "difference" he tried to make. Like Henry, Kevin
wanted the game to be cleaner than it was for the Mayor and for
Stanton. At the end of City Hall, Kevin's choice is quite
different from any we see in Primary Colors. After he leaves
the mayor, Kevin decides to run for city council. We see him campaigning
on the streets of New York City. He is starting over, and clearly
going to do it the clean way. The movie, however, leaves us wondering
whether he will win even this local election. We are left with the
question whether Kevin's "honest and decent politics"
will be able to accomplish anything at all, or whether it holds
out an alternative vision to Primary Colors about politics
that suggests a renewal of American innocence in the face of corruption.
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