Machiavelics

Elon Musk’s public narrative has been repeatedly rewritten to suit changing circumstances. Although he is widely described as the founder of Tesla following a legal settlement, Musk only joined the company as its chief executive around five years after it was founded, having invested in the electric vehicle start-up a little over a year after its creation. Much of his public image has also been built around his opposition to government bureaucracy and his defence of independent entrepreneurship. Yet companies such as Tesla and SpaceX have, over the years, benefited from government contracts, public incentives and subsidies linked to clean energy and space exploration.

The alleged criminal and influencer Andrew Tate, currently facing criminal proceedings in Romania and the United Kingdom involving allegations of human trafficking, organised crime, money laundering, rape and assault, frequently presents himself as someone who tells uncomfortable truths and rejects social or political filters. Yet his public persona is that of a deliberately exaggerated character, designed to provoke strong emotional reactions and maximise media attention. Polarisation, the symbolism of strength, and the construction of a controversial identity can all be effective tools for gaining influence over an audience while, at the same time, securing a few years behind bars.

Not all modern Machiavellians are men. Kim Kardashian has built her success on the idea of closeness to her audience. Social media and reality television create the impression of direct access to her personal life, her emotions and her family. Yet this exposure is carefully curated, turning intimacy into a tool of influence. Just as Machiavelli advised that it is often more important to appear than to be, Kardashian has cultivated an image of authenticity that strengthens her emotional connection with millions of followers while simultaneously reinforcing her business empire and her cultural influence.

But the clearest example of a contemporary Machiavellian figure is the current President of the United States, Donald Trump. As argued in this article published on The Loop, the blog of the European Consortium for Political Research, Trump’s ideology is not simply a form of political realism.

The fundamental difference is that classical realists such as E. H. Carr still assigned a role to morality in foreign policy, seeking to reconcile it with national interests. Trump, by contrast, acts amorally: decisions are judged exclusively by the benefits they bring to the United States and, above all, to himself, his family and his associates, with little regard for ethical principles.

As in The Prince, politics is seen as the exercise of preserving and expanding power, in which the ends can justify the means and morality occupies a secondary place. The aim of foreign policy becomes the maximisation of personal and business interests, regardless of the cost to other countries.

In the video below, Professor Quentin Skinner, Co-Director of the Centre for the Study of the History of Political Thought at Queen Mary University of London, provides a brief introduction to the ideas developed in The Prince and explains why the vast majority of today’s political leaders would, in Machiavelli’s own eyes, be considered corrupt.