Machiavelli’s The Prince at 500: The Fate of Politics in the Modern World John P. McCormick (bio) Niccolò Machiavelli would have undoubtedly secured enduring fame for any one of the roles he played during his life in and out of Renaissance Florence: historian, diplomat, military strategist, civil servant, poet, playwright. However, it was in his capacity as a political thinker that Machiavelli earned eternal renown. His political writings sparked some of the most intense scholarly controversies in Western intellectual history and raised fundamental questions that every participant in politics throughout the globe would henceforth have to confront. Not without reason, many commentators consider Machiavelli the father of modern political thought or modern political science—some even ordain him the founder of “modernity” itself. Yet the specific content and precise objectives of his political writings remain elusive half a millennium after their circulation. Was Machiavelli an advisor of tyranny or a partisan of liberty? A neutral technician of power politics or an Italian patriot? An anticlerical reviver of pagan virtue or a devious initiator of modern nihilism? To what extent was Machiavelli a “Machiavellian”? What would Machiavelli, the self-proclaimed and widely reputed master of political prudence, say about contemporary political problems? Intriguing answers to some of these provocative questions are offered by the esteemed contributors to this special issue of Social Research, which commemorates the five hundredth anniversary of the composition of Machiavelli’s most famous work, On Principalities (1513–1514)—or, as it was titled by others, The Prince. [End Page xxiii] This “little book,” as Machiavelli called his short treatise on the means of gaining, holding, and expanding political power, certainly announced a dramatic break with previous political doctrines anchored in substantively moral and religious systems of thought. Unlike his classical or medieval predecessors, who took their political bearings from transcendentally valid or divinely sanctioned conceptions of justice, the author of The Prince oriented himself to the “effectual truth” of politics; how the world actually “is” rather than how it “ought” to be. Indeed, Machiavelli’s often brutally “realistic” advice—meticulously analyzed here with surprising results by contributor Erica Benner—seems intended to contravene all previous, socially respectable forms of political reflection. For instance, Machiavelli boldly declares that it is safer for a prince to be feared rather than loved (if he must choose between these two forms of regard) because subjects love at their own pleasure while they fear at the pleasure of a prince. Moreover, Machiavelli steadfastly insists that violence and cruelty are necessary means of effective political action (even if their deployment must be circumscribed meticulously to avoid unintended, deleterious consequences for a prince’s rule). Apologetically inclined commentators, in efforts to soften Machiavelli’s radically severe political advice, consistently emphasize—indeed, too often overemphasize—the qualifications of his doctrines contained in the preceding parentheses. In The Prince, Machiavelli barely feigns hesitation over recommending as exemplars of “well-used” fear and cruelty such individuals as Agathocles the Sicilian, Cesare Borgia, and Liverotto of Fermo, whom historians and contemporary opinion-setters considered criminals. And yet Machiavelli demonstrates that revered figures such as Moses, Romulus, and Cyrus, whom established authors elevate beyond moral reproach, themselves achieved political greatness by recourse to crimes. One prominent difference between the first disreputable and second celebrated set of princes, Machiavelli insinuates, is that the latter’s crimes were minimized or obscured by the legendary attributes bestowed on them as a result of the longevity of the “new modes and orders” they founded. [End Page xxiv] Machiavelli appropriately praises the successful founders of long-enduring republics, empires, and religions—Moses, Romulus, and Cyrus—as the most virtuous princes in history. Yet his desire to lay bare the effectual truth of politics, stripped of its idealistic and mythical veneers, compels Machiavelli to devote much more space in The Prince to generally underappreciated, less successful, and far less reputable historical figures, such as the likes of Agathocles and Borgia. Precisely because the latter two accomplished demonstrably less in the long term than did Romulus and Moses, their motivations, deeds, and genuine achievements can perhaps be more readily apprehended and more easily analyzed. Machiavelli intimates that the careers of Agathocles and Borgia may provide...