From the ancient Romans to the present, leaders of polities have been the decisive force behind much of history. Now, amid the most turbulent period of global politics since the Cold War, we must recognize that it is the leaders we need, but not necessarily those we want, that must be charged with stewarding our nation.
There is perhaps no better articulation of this theme than in the film A Few Good Men. After a military hazing incident leads to the death of a young Marine (named Santiago), the responsible commander, Col. Jessup (played by Jack Nicholson) is forced to testify in court. Attorney Lt. Daniel Kaffee (played by Tom Cruise) presses Col. Jessup for answers, especially who ordered the hazing incident. What follows is one of the most famous movie monologues:
LTJG Kaffee: I want the truth!
Col Jessup: You can’t handle the truth! Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who’s gonna do it? You? You, Lieutenant Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago, and you curse the Marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know — that Santiago’s death, while tragic, probably saved lives; and my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want me on that wall — you need me on that wall.
We use words like “honor,” “code,” “loyalty.” We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punch line. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it.[1]
I would rather that you just said “thank you” and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon and stand the post. Either way, I don’t give a DAMN what you think you’re entitled to!
If we take an honest stock of those who have secured our freedom, are we so sure that Col. Jessup was wrong?
If there was anyone who understood the role that necessity played in political life, it was the Florentine philosopher Niccolò Machiavelli. Machiavelli is known as the paradigmatic political realist. Much of his work can be summarized as an attempt to demonstrate what political life is, rather than what it ought to be. Machiavelli acknowledges his intention in Chapter 15 of The Prince:
It remains now to be seen what the methods and procedures should be for a prince in dealing with his subjects and allies…But since I intend to write something useful for anyone who understands it, it seemed to me more suitable to go after the effectual truth of the matter than what people have imagined about it (emphasis added).
What does Machiavelli have in mind with “effectual truth?” As Wayne Rebhorn notes:
From antiquity to the Renaissance countless writers produced books of advice for princes, constituting a genre called the Speculum principis (The Mirror for Princes). In those works the prince was primarily taught that he must learn both religious and secular virtues and then practice them as a ruler. Machiavelli turns that advice on its head. Here he says he will write of the “effectual truth” (verità effetuale) because he is interested in a truth that has an effect—in other words, one that leads to action in the world— rather than turning the prince into a model of morality.
Machiavelli then proceeds with his most infamous advice:
For there is such a distance between the way we really live and the way we ought to live that the man who abandons what is done for what ought to be done ensures his ruin rather than his preservation. For a man who wants to make a profession of goodness in everything is bound to come to ruin among so many who are not good. Hence, a prince who wants to preserve himself must learn how not to be good, and to use this knowledge and not use it as a necessity requires (emphasis added)
When necessary—and that is key—the Prince, or in the modern application, the democratically-elected sovereign, must understand that self-preservation could call for dirtying one’s hands because the continued existence of a “moral community”, to use Michael Walzer’s phrase, is the supreme motive of the state. And despite his reputation to the contrary, Machiavelli never argues that the ends justify the means in political life. He never loses sight of evil as evil, writing that” [the Prince] should not depart from the good, if that is possible, but he should know how to enter into evil when necessity demands it.” Notice his awareness of evil as distinct from goodness. We should never support leaders of any type who forget that distinction. But the Florentine does excuse those tragic but necessary actions forced upon the leader by circumstance. According to Giovanni Giorgini, Machiavelli understands politics as being “the realm of tragic dilemmas because the statesman is often forced to abdicate moral duties in order to follow the political imperative of saving the state.”
With an eye towards history, Machiavelli notes how so many of the world’s most influential and important leaders—the men we keep on our walls—recognized this drama of political life: men such as Moses, Cyrus, Theseus, Romulus, Agesilaus, Brutus and Cato. A careful analysis of these men reveals that all these rulers at some point were forced to dirty their hands for the sake of national self-preservation. Of course, compromising one’s moral integrity is no small task. But that is why, as Giorgini notes, the Florentine characterizes his ideal statesman as “a heroic figure, capable not only of sacrificing his body for the homeland but also of surrendering his soul.”
Far from lamenting the reality of politics and statecraft, Machiavelli hoped to redeem these arenas by calling upon men of virtù to utilize all options on the table if the fate of their people depends on it. The Florentine understood the fact that in the anarchic, imperfect world we occupy, even democratic politicians will sometimes have to face tragic dilemmas and confront the problem of dirty hands. This approach to statecraft undoubtedly shocks the modern mind’s moral consciousness, where leaders like Churchill who save the world will still ultimately be condemned for past wrongs; their faults always outweighing their merits. But it is Machiavelli’s vision of a leader, not our modern view of leadership that allows for no impurities, that is so desperately needed today.
[1] Col. Jessup’s sentiment was similarly expressed in a line (wrongly) attributed to George Orwell, that “People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”