The Prince and the Emperor
What the Most Philosophical Emperor and the Most Misunderstood Political Theorist Can Teach Us About Power and Wisdom
Picture a military tent on the frontiers of the Roman Empire. By lamplight, the most powerful man in the world writes in his journal – not for posterity or public consumption, but as a private exercise in self-examination. "When you wake up in the morning, tell yourself: The people I deal with today will be meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous, and surly..."
These aren't the words of a cynical tyrant but of Marcus Aurelius – philosopher king, embodiment of Plato's dream, writing what would become known as his "Meditations." Each night, after commanding armies and ruling an empire that spanned three continents, he retreated into philosophical contemplation. But what's truly remarkable is not that he held the highest office in the known world – it's that he remained fundamentally unmoved by it, viewing his imperial power as simply another role to play with wisdom and justice.
Now, shift forward thirteen centuries. In a humble study in rural Italy, a former diplomat writes feverishly, determined to capture everything he has learned about power during his years serving the Florentine Republic. His name is Niccolò Machiavelli, and his observations will become "The Prince" – arguably the most infamous political treatise ever written.
One man achieved the summit of worldly power yet remained internally free from its corrupting influence, finding his true sovereignty in philosophical wisdom. The other, stripped of all official power, found freedom in understanding its most profound mechanisms. Their perspectives seem irreconcilable: the Stoic emperor seeking virtue above all else and the clear-eyed political theorist advocating for whatever works. Yet, in their apparent contradiction lies a powerful synthesis that might offer us the key to being both good and effective in a complex world.
The Imperator and the Exile
The contrast between these two figures could hardly be starker. Marcus Aurelius inherited the most powerful position in the known world, while Machiavelli wrote his masterpiece in exile, barred from the political life he loved. The emperor sought to transcend worldly concerns through Stoic philosophy, while the exile dedicated himself to understanding exactly how worldly power functions.
Yet both men were profound realists. Marcus Aurelius had no illusions about human nature – his private meditations reveal a man deeply aware of human frailty, including his own. And contrary to his reputation, Machiavelli was no mere advocate of tyranny. His concept of virtú – often mistranslated as simply "virtue" – is a complex ideal combining moral excellence and practical effectiveness.
What if, instead of seeing these perspectives as opposed, we could understand them as complementary? What if the inner stability of Stoicism could provide the foundation for effective action in the world? What if Machiavelli's practical insights could give us tools to implement our highest principles?
The Inner Fortress and the Outer Arena
The key to this synthesis lies in understanding that inner wisdom and outer effectiveness are not opposed but mutually reinforcing. The Stoic's inner fortress – that unshakeable core of calm rationality that Marcus Aurelius cultivated through rigorous self-examination – doesn't cut us off from effective action. Instead, it gives us the stability and clarity to act more effectively.
Consider how this lens transforms Machiavelli's famous advice about whether it's better to be feared or loved. The conventional reading sees this as a choice between moral and practical considerations. But what if our Stoic foundation allows us to transcend this apparent dichotomy?
Leaders grounded in Stoic wisdom don't need to choose between being feared or loved because they're not emotionally dependent on either. Their inner stability allows them to make clear-eyed decisions about what each situation requires, while their philosophical foundation ensures they never lose sight of their higher principles. This is precisely what made Marcus Aurelius remarkable – not his throne, but his ability to sit upon it without being corrupted by its power.
Power and Wisdom: A Synthesis
This synthesis offers us something remarkable: a way to be both principled and practical, both wise and effective. The Stoic foundation provides the emotional stability and ethical grounding that prevents power from corrupting, while Machiavellian insight offers the practical wisdom to implement our principles in a complex world.
The integration of these perspectives creates a unique approach to power and leadership:
The stability to see clearly without being swayed by fear or desire
The wisdom to understand power without being seduced by it
The ability to act effectively while remaining true to one's principles
The capacity to engage with the world while maintaining inner freedom
This synthesis doesn't just split the difference between two opposing views – it transcends them to create something new. The inner stability of Stoicism enables more effective action in the world, while the practical insights of Machiavelli become more powerful when guided by stable principles.
The Art of Virtuous Power
What emerges from this synthesis is a new understanding of power itself. True power, this view suggests, comes not from external position or influence but from the combination of inner freedom and outer effectiveness. It's the power that allowed Marcus Aurelius to rule an empire while remaining philosophically free and Machiavelli to maintain his intellectual sovereignty even in exile.
This understanding rests on three key insights:
First, inner sovereignty. The true ruler must first rule themselves, cultivating an inner stability that remains unmoved by the winds of fortune. This is what allowed Marcus Aurelius to wear the purple without being dyed by it.
Second, applicable wisdom. Like Machiavelli, we must see the world as it is, not as we wish it to be. However, this clear vision serves not mere pragmatism but the implementation of higher principles.
Third, practical virtue. True virtue requires both wisdom and effectiveness. It's not enough to have good intentions – we must also have the practical wisdom to bring them to fruition in a complex world.
Beyond Good and Effective
This synthesis offers us a way beyond the false choice between being good and being effective. The inner stability of Stoicism provides the foundation for more effective action, while Machiavelli's practical wisdom gives us tools to implement our highest principles. It reassures us that we don't have to sacrifice our principles for success.
In a world that often forces us to choose between our principles and our effectiveness, between what's right and what works, this ancient wisdom offers us a different path. It shows that true power comes not from sacrificing our principles for success but from finding ways to be both good and effective, both wise and powerful.
Despite their apparent opposition, the emperor and the exile offer us something precious: a way to maintain our principles while engaging effectively with the world. Their synthesis suggests that the highest form of power comes not from choosing between wisdom and effectiveness but from finding ways to achieve both.
In the end, this is what Marcus Aurelius and Machiavelli were teaching us: true power lies not in the domination of others but in the mastery of ourselves and the wise application of that self-mastery to the world's challenges. In their unlikely synthesis, we might find a path to being both good and effective, both wise and powerful, in our complex times.
Poker has taught me - no matter the outcome, what matters is that I played the hand the right way. Outcome in a single event is based on variance = luck. Outcome of many events is determined by good play = statistics.
I don't agree that stoic leaders don't need to chose between being loved or feared. Both are means of control of their subjects. Stoic leaders can (manipulatively?) choose which means they use, but they have to use one of them, otherwise their subjects will freely choose themselves.
But the deeper problem with utilitarianism and consequentialism is that as Lao-C would say: it's too early to tell. You do not have certainty - only probability of the outcome. So if ends justify means and your ends are probabilistic - what means are really justified?