Rorotoko

In a nutshell

Americans are constantly urged to involve themselves in political life, to pay attention to the issues, to vote for the best candidates and, above all, to avoid succumbing to political apathy and cynicism. The unpleasant truth, though, is that for most individuals, most of the time, politics is a rather unrewarding enterprise. Clausewitz was correct to equate war and politics. Both are nasty, sometimes brutish activities from which ordinary participants secure few benefits. And yet, like war, politics is sometime forced upon us and we must defend ourselves.

Self-defense requires some understanding of the realities of political struggle. To begin with, much of what we see and hear in the political world consists of lies and deceptions. The issues addressed by competing cliques of politicians are typically developed for tactical purposes and cannot be taken at face value. Politicians are generally, albeit not always, a currish lot, driven by a desire to acquire power or status or wealth, not by some commitment to the public interest. Indeed, since politicians, political parties and other political actors habitually lie, citizens who heed the frequent injunction to abjure cynicism are likely to be duped into contributing their tax dollars and even their lives for dubious purposes such as building democracy in Iraq. Those who actually work in the political arena, politicians, journalists, consultants, lobbyists and other political practitioners are a notoriously cynical bunch. While encouraging ordinary citizens to trust the government and the political class, members of the political class are not so foolish as to trust one another.

Five hundred years ago, Niccolo Machiavelli dedicated his masterpiece of political realism, The Prince, to Florentine ruler Lorenzo de’ Medici whose favor Machiavelli hoped win. In truth, Lorenzo did not need Machiavelli’s advice; he already practiced what Machiavelli preached. Whether in the 16th century or the 21st, those who need a firmer understanding of political realities are credulous citizens, not calculating and rapacious princes. Ordinary citizens usually do what is asked of them, steadfastly offering their support and trust only to be victimized by the Machiavellian tactics of their rulers. Thus, contra Machiavelli, this book is not dedicated to the education of would-be princes. Instead, it is designed to arm their subjects against them.

The wide angle

In more than thirty years of teaching politics, I have observed that students’ natural healthy cynicism is constantly criticized by the press and by their teachers. I want to assure students and all readers that it is appropriate to be cynical. Ambrose Bierce defined a cynic as a, “blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.” If anything, too many Americans lack a requisite sense of cynicism. About half those responding to University of Michigan surveys say the government can be trusted most of the time and nearly two-thirds disagree with the proposition that public officials don’t really care what people think. These recent percentages actually represent an increase in public trust after some decline between the 1960s and 1990s. But, shouldn’t every American be just a bit distrustful of a class of individuals whose most prominent members, contrary to all logic and evidence, claim never to have inhaled, aver that they hardly even knew that pesky Ms. Lewinsky, or suggest they reluctantly agreed to forego the opportunity to serve in Viet Nam in order to undertake the more onerous task of defending the air space over Texas? For that matter, can anyone truly believe the legions of lesser politicians who portentously declare that they are driven by an overwhelming urge to “fight” for the right of every last geezer to receive a pension check? Far from being a pathological condition, cynicism is a useful defense against such duplicity.

Yet, cynicism alone is hardly an adequate guide to the reality of politics. Political cynics often see through the lies of politicians only to fall prey to even more bizarre fantasies. Millions of Americans, for example, who don’t trust the government, also believe that federal officials are hiding evidence of extraterrestrial visitors at a secret base in New Mexico. These individuals are ready to spurn official claims but, in their place, accept science fiction tales as reality. An understanding of politics requires not only a willingness to reject falsehoods, but also the ability to assess objective evidence and arrive at the truth. The Chinese call this marriage of cynicism and objectivity, “cynical realism,” connoting an effort to substitute a true and accurate picture of political life for the lies told by the authorities.

Cynics are sometimes accused of being without principles. Cynical realism, however, is based upon three core principles of political analysis. The first is that politics mainly revolves around self-interest. In particular, actors generally compete in the political arena to increase their resources and stature. Individuals strive to enhance their own wealth, their own power and their own status rather than for more altruistic or public-spirited purposes. Second, even if political actors actually have less selfish aims, they must almost always, nevertheless, work to acquire wealth, power or status to achieve these other goals. As Machiavelli observed, prophets generally must arm themselves if they hope to succeed. Unfortunately, though, the effort to maximize these interests often becomes an end in and of itself even if it was not a political actor’s primary initial goal. The quest for power can be as corrupting as its exercise. Third, the issues and ideas publicly espoused by political actors are more often the weapons of political struggle than its actual goals.

The idea that political action is governed by selfish motives is hardly novel. Indeed, for centuries, political and social theorists have conceived self-interested conduct to be a fundamental reflection of human nature, “For it may be said of men in general,” said Machiavelli. “That they are ungrateful, voluble, dissemblers, anxious to avoid danger, and covetous of gain.” This rather bleak view of human nature has a substantial scientific basis. Evolutionary psychologists argue that power, status and possession of material resources have been associated with reproductive success throughout the evolution of the human species. Hence, the desire to acquire these assets is a potent driving force. Psychologist Steven Pinker writes that while humans have not evolved the rigid pecking orders characteristic of some animal species, in all human societies, “High-ranking men are deferred to, have a greater voice in group decisions...and always have more wives, more lovers, and more affairs with other men’s wives.” Of course, individuals vary enormously in the extent to which they are driven by greed or the lust for power and status. Yet, those drawn to political life are, by virtue of self-selection, more likely than others to desire the substance, trappings and privileges of rank.

Five hundred years ago, Niccolo Machiavelli dedicated his masterpiece of political realism, The Prince, to Florentine ruler Lorenzo de’ Medici whose favor Machiavelli hoped win. In truth, Lorenzo did not need Machiavelli’s advice; he already practiced what Machiavelli preached. Whether in the 16th century or the 21st, those who need a firmer understanding of political realities are credulous citizens, not calculating and rapacious princes.