Classic Philosophy for the Modern Man

by Andrew Lynn

  Tzŭ Ch’i of Nan-poh was travelling on the Shang mountain when he saw a large tree which astonished him very much. A thousand chariot teams could have found shelter under its shade.

  ‘What tree is this?’ cried Tzŭ Ch’i. ‘Surely it must have unusually fine timber.’ Then looking up, he saw that its branches were too crooked for rafters; while as to the trunk he saw that its irregular grain made it valueless for coffins. He tasted a leaf, but it took the skin off his lips, and its odour was so strong that it would make a man as it were drunk for three days together.

  ‘Ah!’ said Tzŭ Ch’i. ‘This tree is good for nothing, and that is how it has attained this size. A wise man might well follow its example.’

  Chapter 17

  Universal Envy

  The walrus envies the centipede; the centipede envies the snake; the snake envies the wind; the wind envies the eye; the eye envies the mind.

  The walrus said to the centipede, ‘I hop about on one leg, but not very successfully. How do you manage all these legs you have?’

  ‘I don’t manage them,’ replied the centipede. ‘Have you never seen saliva? When it is ejected, the big drops are the size of pearls, the small ones like mist. They fall promiscuously on the ground and cannot be counted. And so it is that my mechanism works naturally, without my being conscious of the fact.’

  The centipede said to the snake, ‘With all my legs I do not move as fast as you with none. How is that?’

  ‘One’s natural mechanism,’ replied the snake, ‘is not a thing to be changed. What need have I for legs?’

  The snake said to the wind, ‘I can manage to wriggle along, but I have a form. Now you come blustering down from the north sea to bluster away to the south sea, and you seem to be without form. How is that?’

  ‘‘Tis true,’ replied the wind, ‘that I bluster as you say; but anyone who can point at me or kick at me, excels me. On the other hand, I can break huge trees and destroy large buildings. That is my strong point. Out of all the small things in which I do not excel I make one great one in which I do excel. And to excel in great things is given only to the Sages.’

  Chapter 17

  The Debate on the Joy of Fish

  Chuang Tzŭ and Hui Tzŭ had strolled on to the bridge over the Hao, when the former observed, ‘See how the minnows are darting about! That is the pleasure of fishes.’

  ‘You not being a fish yourself,’ said Hui Tzŭ, ‘how can you possibly know in what consists the pleasure of fishes?’

  ‘And you not being I,’ retorted Chuang Tzŭ, ‘how can you know that I do not know?’

  ‘If I, not being you, cannot know what you know,’ urged Hui Tzŭ, ‘it follows that you, not being a fish, cannot know in what consists the pleasure of fishes.’

  ‘Let us go back,’ said Chuang Tzŭ, ‘to your original question. You asked me how I knew in what consists the pleasure of fishes. Your very question shows that you knew I knew. I knew it from my own feelings on this bridge.’

  Chapter 18

  Drumming On a Tub and Singing

  When Chuang Tzŭ’s wife died, Hui Tzŭ went to condole. He found the widower sitting on the ground, singing, with his legs spread out at a right angle, and beating time on a bowl.

  ‘To live with your wife,’ exclaimed Hui Tzŭ, ‘and see your eldest son grow up to be a man, and then not to shed a tear over her corpse – this would be bad enough. But to drum on a bowl, and sing; surely this is going too far.’

  ‘Not at all,’ replied Chuang Tzŭ. ‘When she died, I could not help being affected by her death. Soon, however, I remembered that she had already existed in a previous state before birth, without form, or even substance; that while in that unconditioned condition, substance was added to spirit; that this substance then assumed form; and that the next stage was birth. And now, by virtue of a further change, she is dead, passing from one phase to another like the sequence of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. And while she is thus lying asleep in Eternity, for me to go about weeping and wailing would be to proclaim myself ignorant of these natural laws. Therefore I refrain.’

  Chapter 20

  Empty Boats

  ‘Suppose a boat is crossing a river, and another empty boat is about to collide with it. Even an irritable man would not lose his temper. But supposing there was someone in the second boat. Then the occupant of the first would shout to him to keep clear. And if the other did not hear the first time, nor even when called to three times, bad language would inevitably follow. In the first case there was no anger, in the second there was; because in the first case the boat was empty, and in the second it was occupied. And so it is with man. If he could only roam empty through life, who would be able to injure him?’

  5

  Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince

  Introduction

  All those who achieve and retain power have a little bit of Machiavelli about them.

  Machiavelli is now best known as a proponent of the dark arts of statecraft. In his guidebook for rulers, The Prince, Machiavelli insisted on the employment of all means necessary to protect the state and the prince’s position within it, explaining that to act entirely in accordance with one’s professions of virtue would be self-defeating because the world is so full of evil that anyone doing so would soon be destroyed. This was a philosophy that, despite being widely applied in practice, would receive little sympathy or appreciation in Christian Europe. The Catholic Church banned The Prince, putting it on the Index Librorum Prohibitorum – the list of forbidden books.

  At the heart of Machiavelli’s approach is his realism. We could talk of an imaginary world, he suggests, where rulers display all the virtues and studiously abstain from vices. But that would be pointless. Better to face up to the fact that none can be possessed of, nor display, all the virtues. Instead, the ruler’s job is to avoid the reproach of those vices that would cause the loss of his state. As to those vices that would not cause harm to the state – well, says Machiavelli, those should be avoided, if possible. But, in the real world, there is also a third category of vices – those that positively assist the ruler in maintaining his state. Reproach for these vices need not cause the ruler unease: sometimes what looks like virtue will bring ruin, while what looks like vice will bring security and prosperity.

  A good example of Machiavelli’s approach can be seen in his discussion of the virtue of ‘liberality’ and the corresponding vice of ‘meanness’. Machiavelli does not approach these in theological or abstract moral terms. Instead, he looks at their relevance for governing the state. The problem with liberality, says Machiavelli, is that it wastes rapidly: as you exercise liberality, you begin – through your own expenditure – to lose the very power to do so. The ruler finding himself short of funds, as a result, must face two consequences: he will be hated as he weighs down upon and taxes his people, and he will be despised for being poor. There are, however, two circumstances when the general rule does not apply. You can spend freely when you are on your way to becoming ruler because at that stage you need to buy support. You can also spend freely when you spend money belonging to citizens of other states, whether obtained through extortion or pillage. In the first case, liberality is necessary in order to obtain the state in the first place; in the second case, the resentment of the expropriated citizens of other states will pose no threat.

  Is it better for a ruler to be loved or feared? Machiavelli admits that, in theory, it would be better to be both loved and feared. In reality, though, the ruler will often need to make a choice. Given that this is so, the better choice is to be feared. Men are, in general, contemptible creatures. When you are successful they will offer blood, property, life, and children in your support. But when you need their help they turn against you. Fear, on the other hand, has a more prolonged effect: it protects and preserves you by a dread of punishment that never fails. It is crucial, though, never to be hated, which means, in particular, abstaining from the subjects’ property – and their women.

  Ul
timately, the ruler needs to combine aspects of both the fox and the lion. The world does not operate exclusively by law; it operates also by force. For that reason, the ruler must cultivate within himself something of the animal. But why the fox and why the lion? It is necessary to be a fox to discover the snares, says Machiavelli, and it is necessary to be a lion to terrify the wolves. Cunning and ferociousness must each be applied at the right times against the right targets.

  What is Machiavelli’s relevance to the modern man?

  In answer to this, it is illuminating to have regard to the viewpoint of the Italian philosopher, Antonio Gramsci. Gramsci took the view that Machiavelli did not write The Prince for the benefit of the ruling classes – they already knew what the art of statecraft involved and how these principles should be applied. In fact, thought Gramsci, Machiavelli was writing for the next generation of rulers, as it was these who would need to learn the true nature of statecraft. If that is correct, then The Prince is a guide not for use by the establishment against the people. It is, instead, a guide for the ordinary man as he steps ever forward towards reclaiming his sovereignty.

  It is a guide for everyman.

  A guide, reader, for you.

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  Concerning Things for Which Men, and Especially Princes, Are Praised or Blamed

  It remains now to see what ought to be the rules of conduct for a prince towards subject and friends. And as I know that many have written on this point, I expect I shall be considered presumptuous in mentioning it again, especially as in discussing it I shall depart from the methods of other people. But, it being my intention to write a thing which shall be useful to him who apprehends it, it appears to me more appropriate to follow up the real truth of the matter than the imagination of it; for many have pictured republics and principalities which in fact have never been known or seen, because how one lives is so far distant from how one ought to live, that he who neglects what is done for what ought to be done, sooner effects his ruin than his preservation; for a man who wishes to act entirely up to his professions of virtue soon meets with what destroys him among so much that is evil.

  Hence it is necessary for a prince wishing to hold his own to know how to do wrong, and to make use of it or not according to necessity. Therefore, putting on one side imaginary things concerning a prince, and discussing those which are real, I say that all men when they are spoken of, and chiefly princes for being more highly placed, are remarkable for some of those qualities which bring them either blame or praise; and thus it is that one is reputed liberal, another miserly, using a Tuscan term (because an avaricious person in our language is still he who desires to possess by robbery, whilst we call one miserly who deprives himself too much of the use of his own); one is reputed generous, one rapacious; one cruel, one compassionate; one faithless, another faithful; one effeminate and cowardly, another bold and brave; one affable, another haughty; one lascivious, another chaste; one sincere, another cunning; one hard, another easy; one grave, another frivolous; one religious, another unbelieving, and the like. And I know that everyone will confess that it would be most praiseworthy in a prince to exhibit all the above qualities that are considered good; but because they can neither be entirely possessed nor observed, for human conditions do not permit it, it is necessary for him to be sufficiently prudent that he may know how to avoid the reproach of those vices which would lose him his state; and also to keep himself, if it be possible, from those which would not lose him it; but this not being possible, he may with less hesitation abandon himself to them. And again, he need not make himself uneasy at incurring a reproach for those vices without which the state can only be saved with difficulty, for if everything is considered carefully, it will be found that something which looks like virtue, if followed, would be his ruin; whilst something else, which looks like vice, yet followed brings him security and prosperity.

  Chapter 16

  Concerning Liberality and Meanness

  Commencing then with the first of the above-named characteristics, I say that it would be well to be reputed liberal. Nevertheless, liberality exercised in a way that does not bring you the reputation for it, injures you; for if one exercises it honestly and as it should be exercised, it may not become known, and you will not avoid the reproach of its opposite. Therefore, anyone wishing to maintain among men the name of liberal is obliged to avoid no attribute of magnificence; so that a prince thus inclined will consume in such acts all his property, and will be compelled in the end, if he wish to maintain the name of liberal, to unduly weigh down his people, and tax them, and do everything he can to get money. This will soon make him odious to his subjects, and becoming poor he will be little valued by any one; thus, with his liberality, having offended many and rewarded few, he is affected by the very first trouble and imperilled by whatever may be the first danger; recognizing this himself, and wishing to draw back from it, he runs at once into the reproach of being miserly.

  Therefore, a prince, not being able to exercise this virtue of liberality in such a way that it is recognized, except to his cost, if he is wise he ought not to fear the reputation of being mean, for in time he will come to be more considered than if liberal, seeing that with his economy his revenues are enough, that he can defend himself against all attacks, and is able to engage in enterprises without burdening his people; thus it comes to pass that he exercises liberality towards all from whom he does not take, who are numberless, and meanness towards those to whom he does not give, who are few.

  We have not seen great things done in our time except by those who have been considered mean; the rest have failed. Pope Julius the Second was assisted in reaching the papacy by a reputation for liberality, yet he did not strive afterwards to keep it up, when he made war on the King of France; and he made many wars without imposing any extraordinary tax on his subjects, for he supplied his additional expenses out of his long thriftiness. The present King of Spain would not have undertaken or conquered in so many enterprises if he had been reputed liberal. A prince, therefore, provided that he has not to rob his subjects, that he can defend himself, that he does not become poor and abject, that he is not forced to become rapacious, ought to hold of little account a reputation for being mean, for it is one of those vices which will enable him to govern.

  And if any one should say: Caesar obtained empire by liberality, and many others have reached the highest positions by having been liberal, and by being considered so, I answer: Either you are a prince in fact, or in a way to become one. In the first case, this liberality is dangerous, in the second it is very necessary to be considered liberal; and Caesar was one of those who wished to become pre-eminent in Rome; but if he had survived after becoming so, and had not moderated his expenses, he would have destroyed his government. And if any one should reply: Many have been princes, and have done great things with armies, who have been considered very liberal, I reply: Either a prince spends that which is his own or his subjects’ or else that of others. In the first case he ought to be sparing, in the second he ought not to neglect any opportunity for liberality. And to the prince who goes forth with his army, supporting it by pillage, sack, and extortion, handling that which belongs to others, this liberality is necessary, otherwise he would not be followed by soldiers. And of that which is neither yours nor your subjects’ you can be a ready giver, as were Cyrus, Caesar, and Alexander; because it does not take away your reputation if you squander that of others, but adds to it; it is only squandering your own that injures you.

  And there is nothing wastes so rapidly as liberality, for even whilst you exercise it you lose the power to do so, and so become either poor or despised, or else, in avoiding poverty, rapacious and hated. And a prince should guard himself, above all things, against being despised and hated; and liberality leads you to both. Therefore it is wiser to have a reputation for meanness which brings reproach without hatred than to be compelled through seeking a reputation for liberality to incur a name for rap
acity which begets reproach with hatred.

  Chapter 17

  Concerning Cruelty and Clemency, and Whether It Is Better to Be Loved Than Feared

  Coming now to the other qualities mentioned above, I say that every prince ought to desire to be considered clement and not cruel. Nevertheless, he ought to take care not to misuse this clemency. Cesare Borgia was considered cruel; notwithstanding, his cruelty reconciled the Romagna, unified it, and restored it to peace and loyalty. And if this be rightly considered, he will be seen to have been much more merciful than the Florentine people, who, to avoid a reputation for cruelty, permitted Pistoia to be destroyed. Therefore a prince, so long as he keeps his subjects united and loyal, ought not to mind the reproach of cruelty; because with a few examples he will be more merciful than those who, through too much mercy, allow disorders to arise, from which follow murders or robberies; for these are wont to injure the whole people, whilst those executions which originate with a prince offend the individual only.

  And of all princes, it is impossible for the new prince to avoid the imputation of cruelty, owing to new states being full of dangers. Hence Virgil, through the mouth of Dido, excuses the inhumanity of her reign owing to its being new, saying:

  ‘Res dura, et regni novitas me talia cogunt

  Moliri, et late fines custode tueri.’

  [ ‘. . . against my will, my fate

  A throne unsettled, and an infant state,