Alexander the Great’s conquest of Persia provides the backdrop for one of Machiavelli’s more insightful observations about how countries are composed and hold together.

Persia had a vast army and a vast amount of territory. Furthermore, the Persian empire was comprised of different ethnic and tribal groups, as well other assimilated civilizations such as Egypt and Babylon. Yet, with an army of between 40-50,000, within ten years Alexander had destroyed all resistance to his control over most of Asia. Alexander died without having the chance to consolidate any of his gains, and we might then expect that Persia would revolt against the Macedonians and reclaim their freedom. But this failed to materialize. In fact, the Macedonians fought amongst themselves for control of the region, and still Persia did nothing. How could this be?

Machiavelli writes:

Considering the difficulties which men have had to hold to a newly acquired state, some might wonder how, seeing that Alexander the Great became the master of Asia in a few years, and died whilst it was scarcely settled (whence it might appear reasonable that the whole empire would have rebelled), nevertheless his successors maintained themselves, and had to meet no other difficulty than that which arose among themselves from their own ambitions.

I answer that the principalities of which one has record are found to be governed in two different ways; either by a prince, with a body of servants, who assist him to govern the kingdom as ministers by hisfavour and permission; or by a prince and barons, who hold that dignity by antiquity of blood and not by the grace of the prince. Such barons have states and their own subjects, who recognize them as lords and hold them in natural affection. Those states that are governed by a prince and his servants hold their prince in more consideration, because in all the country there is no one who is recognized as superior to him, and if they yield obedience to another they do it as to a minister and official, and they do not bear him any particular affection.

The examples of these two governments in our time are the Turk and the King of France. The entire monarchy of the Turk is governed by one lord, the others are his servants; and, dividing his kingdom into sanjaks, he sends there different administrators, and shifts and changes them as he chooses. But the King of France is placed in the midst of an ancient body of lords, acknowledged by their own subjects, and beloved by them; they have their own prerogatives, nor can the king take these away except at his peril. Therefore, he who considers both of these states will recognize great difficulties in seizing the state of the Turk, but, once it is conquered, great ease in holding it. The causes of the difficulties in seizing the kingdom of the Turk are that the usurper cannot be called in by the princes of the kingdom, nor can he hope to be assisted in his designs by the revolt of those whom the lord has around him. This arises from the reasons given above; for his ministers, being all slaves and bondmen, can only be corrupted with great difficulty, and one can expect little advantage from them when they have been corrupted, as they cannot carry the people with them, for the reasons assigned. Hence, he who attacks the Turk must bear in mind that he will find him united, and he will have to rely more on his own strength than on the revolt of others; but, if once the Turk has been conquered, and routed in the field in such a way that he cannot replace his armies, there is nothing to fear but the family of this prince, and, this being exterminated, there remains no one to fear, the others having no credit with the people; and as the conqueror did not rely on them before his victory, so he ought not to fear them after it.

The contrary happens in kingdoms governed like that of France, because one can easily enter there by gaining over some baron of the kingdom, for one always finds malcontents and such as desire a change. Such men, for the reasons given, can open the way into the state and render the victory easy; but if you wish to hold it afterwards, you meet with infinite difficulties, both from those who have assisted you and from those you have crushed. Nor is it enough for you to have exterminated the family of the prince, because the lords that remain make themselves the heads of fresh movements against you, and as you are unable either to satisfy or exterminate them, that state is lost whenever time brings the opportunity. 

Essentially Machiavelli points out that

• Some countries are hard to conquer but easy to hold once defeated. They have greater unity from the top-down, but once that unity is shattered, it cannot make itself whole again. We might think of such countries akin to a brick wall. It is very hard to put one’s fist through a wall, but once you break the wall, it cannot reconstitute itself.
• Some countries are easy to conquer but make it quite difficult to maintain the conquest. Their internal divisions open the door to the invader, but those same internal divisions will guarantee you will have problems in the future. Such countries resemble water. One can easily put one’s fist through water, but the most one can do is move or scatter it. Given the right conditions, that pool of water can easily return.

We can use Machiavelli’s framework to help explain historical events closer to our time.

During WW II, Germany and Japan functioned much like Persia or the Ottoman Empire of Machiavelli’s day (though it is important to remember that Machiavelli’s categories are not moral categories–one can be bad or good and have strong unity). After their military defeat, both Japan and West Germany rebuilt themselves with extraordinary speed. Neither Nazism or military dictatorship made even a pretense of returning to Germay or Japan, respectively. Their (extreme) unity, once shattered, disappeared into the ether, with an entirely new society emerging.

Our experience recently with Afghanistan highlights Machiavelli’s second category. With its many tribes and difficult geography, we were able to quickly defeat the Taliban and establish a new government. However, all we really accomplished was the scattering of water. In time, the Taliban reemerged and regained control. Our experience mirrored that of England in the 19th century, and Russia, both in the 19th and 20th centuries.

I wanted the students to consider whether America resembled more of ancient Persia, or if we are more like medieval France. The students had different arguments for both sides, which was great to see.

For centralized unity defining America, they argued that

• While a few “weird” states exist (such as Florida and Alaska) for the most part most states function in the same way and have similar cultures.
• We have unified executive control over the military from top to bottom.
• We share common political and cultural events, such as elections, political debates, the Super Bowl, etc.
• We share enough of a common vision of what it means to be an American, such as agreement over our rights as citizens.

For the “water” analogy fitting America, they argued that

• There are a variety of states, scattered throughout the country, that may have similar poltical systems, but very different cultures (Texas, California, Lousiana, etc.).
• We have a great deal of political disagreement. While we technically have one president, a strong minority of Americans will not support him.
• While we agree on our rights, such as the right to vote and free speech, these rights are generally used to divide us and not unite us.

I enjoyed the students’ thoughts on this important question.

It is possible that a country can change its identity. The France Machiavelli mentioned went from the “water” model to the “brick wall” starting in the 17th century under King Louis XIV. By the time of the French Revolution in the late 18th century, what happened in Paris determined everything in France. America may have gone through periods in our history when we functioned in a more centralized or de-centralized manner, and we may change again.

One of Machiavelli’s talents involves letting us know that one can rarely if ever have it both ways. Strong unity, or strong disunity both have their advantages that are somewhat exclusive. We have to own our choices, and understand their consequences.

Enjoy the weekend,

Dave

Greetings Everyone,

This week we continued looking at the reign of Charles I. His time in power, and the decision made by him and those who opposed him would do much to shape the modern political landscape. A lot of disagreement exists among scholars, with some viewing him more or less favorably depending on what they emphasize. However, there is very broad agreement that

• Charles was a sincere Christian and a “good man,” and
• Charles, although not lazy or incompetent, did not rule effectively
• Whether or not Charles or Parliament started the escalating tension that existed between them, both sides heightened the tension at different times in different ways.

The great number of books written about Charles both for and against shows that, among other things, evaluating Charles is tricky. He ruled unconventionally, but the stress and cultural changes of the period may have necessitated that. He had a excellent personal reputation, but at times made foolish mistakes that showed that he seemed not to understand what kingship meant politically. We see this at his coronation, where he made the interesting choice to wear white instead of the traditional royal purple (the image below is a fascimile of an original that I could not find online).

This choice of Charles serves a preview of all the controversies of his reign.

We did not have time to go through the nooks and crannies of all the disagreements this week, but we focused on the main conceptual issues that drove much of the controversy.

Law and Custom

Today of course we know that Parliament serves as the center of power in the English government, with the king having a very limited role. But this happened only after a slow political and cultural revolution over many centuries. In Charles’ time, Parliament met only at the king’s discretion, and (with some crucial exceptions) served as essentially a large group of advisors. Nearly all power still resided in the king’s hands.

However, when Charles began his reign Parliament had enjoyed a period of some decades of increased power and prestige. Custom moved in the direction of granting Parliament more of a role in the country, but the law remained the same, that unless the King asked for new taxes, he had no legal need to convene Parliament or even listen to that body.

So, when Charles ruled for several years without convening Parliament, he was perfectly within the bounds of the law. But, he reversed the trend of previous decades, which guaranteed a jilted and unhappy Parliament. Imagine a parent granting privileges to their teenager steadily over time, and then suddenly revoking them. The parent has a right to do, but the teenager will certainly resent it. The whiplash effect of privileges, then no privileges, will almost certainly result in conflict and controversy.

Different issues drove the conflict between King and Parliament, with religion residing at the core. Charles I was conservative by temperment and religious conviction. He favored the traditional ceremonial Anglicanism in the time of Elizabeth I. Many in Parliament favored what we call Puritanism, which represented a more radical, “contemporary” religous culture focused primarily on preaching and reading the Bible. Charles appointed Archbishop of Canterbury, William Laud, saw the emergence of Puritans as a threat to the role of bishops and the monarchy itself. As it turned out, he was not wrong about this, but his methods showed no tact and a touch of cruelty. In 1637 he ordered the ears cut off three strong Purtian critics of the Church of England in Parliament. In 1645, when Parliament had much more power, they put Laud on trial for treason (despite a marked lack of evidence for this) and had him executed.

Law and Spirit of the Law

Charles relationship with Parliament was soured from the very beginning of his reign. He went to war with France in 1627, in itself not a bad thing for a king of England to do. Charles convened Parliament to raise the necessary funds for the war. Parliament strongly urged Charles to appoint a military commander other than his favorite, the Duke of Buckingham. The Duke was a personal favorite of Charles, however, and Charles appointed him commander-in-chief, as was his right.

The war went badly, at least initially, and the Duke was assasinated. When news of his death reached Parliament, they celebrated and cheered, which profoundly shocked and hurt Charles. In his later actions, Charles showed that he would never trust Parliament if he could possibly help it.

This shows up years later, when Charles wanted to impose religious uniformity throughout his realm, which included Scotlant. In this Charles followed in the footsteps of the revered Elizabeth I. Her policiies could be considered draconian in comparison to Charles, and Charles I’m guessing took comfort in following a legendary monarch.

But things in Parliament had shifted religiously, and they would not create a tax that would allow for Charles to raise enough revenue to go to war with Scotland. English law clearly stated that kings could impose no new tax without Parliamentary consent.

Charles then decided to pull another page out of Elizabeth’s book and reinstate the Ship’s Tax. This was a tax levied many decades prior to raise money for the impending naval invasion from Spain, what we know as the Spanish Armada. By the letter of the law, this was not necessarily a new tax. But by the spirit of the law, Charles had clearly sidestepped the intent of the law, whereby a king could not go to war without the tacit approval of Parliament.

Both Charles and Parliament were right, but in different ways for different reasons.

The Ship’s Tax in itself did not cause the Civil War. Neither did Charles’ attempt to reinstate Elizabeth’s religious settlement, or Parliament cheering at the death of the Duke of Buckingham, or Parliament’s grave mistrust of Charles having a Catholic wife. Often we want the clarity of a clear right and wrong side. Sometimes we get these situations, but the English Civil War is not one of them. Still, those living in England at the time had to make a choice between king and Parliament, and the students do as well. Making that choice involves weighing multiple factors, and that’s why we have spent so long on this event. I hope that the students have learned to think in more complex ways.

Thanks so much, and enjoy the weekend.

Dave

When I was a senior in high school I was co-captain of our baseball team (this may seem like bragging, but it’s not. We were terrible and that year, so was I) we had a routine to start practice. The players would head out about 5 minutes before the coach, and we would talk and mess around. When our coach came out, he would whistle and circle his hand in the air. This was the signal for us to start our warm up run, which was about a mile loop around the school. One day before the coach had come out, my co-captain and I looked at the sky and saw dark clouds looming. We talked to the team and said that we should start running now. It was going to rain, and we wanted to get in as much practice time as we could.

It seemed like a good idea to us, but no one else thought so. We argued a bit, but the team stood firm. “We start running when Coach comes out and whistles.”

Well, having stuck our necks out, three seniors (we roped our friend into it as well) started running, and we figured the team would follow.

But . . . we looked back after a few minutes and no one had budged. The coach came out and the rest of the team started running. He waited and when the three of us reached him, he pulled us aside and asked us what we were doing. We explained, and he said, “I get the idea–it was a fine idea. But remember this, if no one is following, you aren’t leading.”

This happened about 35 years ago but his comment has always stuck in my mind, and from time to time I wrestle with whether or not I agree. Is leadership about people following, or setting the right example? Well, maybe the answer is “yes.” It’s true that leaders need followers. But we want followers to be on the right path, giving themselves to a proper goal. That requires people setting the right example.

I told the class this story and I did get them to agree that it involves both, but there can be (and was) lots of disagreement as to the percentages for each part of leadership. Some declared that setting the right example was more important, and others the opposite.

Where we land on this question will greatly impact how we view the reign of Charles I. Events during his time in power would greatly impact the future of English governance, the American Revolution, and our concept of rights. We will probably naturally lean towards supporting those who opposed Charles, but we should check ourselves before diving in, and think about how much of proper leadership means setting a good example, and how much it means getting others to follow. Another way to set the terms of this question . . . how much of leadership is directed “upwards” towards God and how much is directed “outwards” towards the people.

In terms of setting an example, Charles scored high marks. He was a genuine Christian and a devoted father. He and his wife genuinely cared for one another. He lived much more righteously than Henry VIII, and to a lesser degree, both Elizabeth I and his own father James I. He was devoted to his duties, and lived conscientiously.

Alas for Charles, such care in some ways only alienated him from many in Parliament. For example, his wife was Catholic. Like most every royal person in his era, Charles’ marriage was arranged. He had religious differences with his wife, but accommodated her as best as he knew how, building a private chapel for her and allowing her to have her French confessor present at court. What could have been viewed as kindness was seen as weakness and pandering to many.

When we look at Elizabeth, we see someone fully confident in her role and identity as king. She projects “outwards” toward us. We feel her presence.

With Charles, we see the opposite. He seems concerned, unsure, and turned almost entirely inward to himself.

In an abstractly moral sense, Elizabeth is not better than Charles. Personality differences are not moral differences. In a political sense, she succeeded at a far greater level.

Charles, like many introverts, had strong convictions but weak people skills with those he did not know personally or trust. This led him to make decisions that backed his friends, rather than decisions in line with proper procedure. Indeed, throughout his reign Charles had difficulty with standard trappings of the procedure and protocol of kingship, even in celebratory contexts. We see this with his coronation. Elizabeth’s coronation was both enormously expensive and a smashing success. At the end of her procession she spoke to the crowd, saying,

I thank my Lord Mayor, his brethren, and you all.  And whereas your request is that I should continue your good lady and queen, be ye ensured that I will be as good unto you as ever any queen unto her people.  No will in me can lack, neither do I trust that I lack any power.  And persuade yourselves, that for the safety and quietness of you all, I will not spare, if need be, to spend my blood, God thank you all. 

It was a wild success, and established the basis of her rule for the next few decades. Charles canceled his own coronation procession, preferring something much cheaper but also much more private. He had an emissary deliver the following letter to the Mayor of London:

Whereas your lordship and the rest of that Court now formerly directed by letters from the right honourable Earl Marshall, to prepare and erect in several places within the city various and sundry pageants for the fuller and more significant expression of your joys upon his Majesty, and his royal consorts intended entrance through your fair city: His Majesty having now allowed his said purpose, and given me Command to signify such to you, it may please your Lordship to take notice thereof by these, as also remove the said Pageants, which besides the particular charge they accrue, do choke and hinder the passage of such as in coaches or carriages that have occasion to go up and down.

If Charles thought this was the right thing to do, he was unfortunately mistaken. People saw someone denying them a festival, denying them a chance to see their king in glory, for if the King is England, then the king is all of them at once.

Another crucial issue surrounding Charles’ leadership involved the issue of the spirit and letter of the law. As a society we want both templates operating. For example,

• We want the spirit of the law to determine what “speeding” means. We do not give tickets for going 56 in a 55 zone. In the same way, jaywalking in Manhatten is one thing, and jaywalking on a quiet suburban street another.
• We want the letter of the law to determine what a bank robbery is. If you walk into a bank, wave gun, and walk out with 50k, you’re punishment will be substantively the same if you wave a gun and somehow walk out with $10.

Charles’ political instincts misfired with this dichotomy with the issue of taxes. English law forbade the king from issuing any new taxes without the consent of Parliament. Charles wanted taxes raised for a war with the Scots, a war that Parliament would not support, and so they denied Charles the right to impose a new tax. Charles accepted this, but then reinstated a tax used under Elizabeth I to raise money to prepare for the invasion of the Spanish Armada. Technically, of course, this was not a “new tax.” Charles was within the letter of the law. But certainly he sidestepped its spirit. England’s taxation laws were designed to prevent a king from waging war without Parliamentary consent, which Charles found a way to conveniently sidestep.

No one doubts that Charles failed at ruling in an effective manner. Everyone agrees that he was a good man, if awkward and politically frustrating at times. Many in England disagreed with his political views regarding kingship. The question everyone would eventually be faced with was, “Should one attempt to overthrown Charles? Has he lost the right to rule?”

This question would divide the people of England, and likely divide our own class as well. We’ll examine this question next week.

Many thanks,

Dave

This week we continued with Aristotle and examined the idea of how monarchies function and preserve their power. Aristotle was a good Greek, and so in the final analysis he did not view monarchy as the best form of government. However, he acknowledged that monarchies had strengths, and we looked at his advice (which Machiavelli likely would have agreed with) regarding how kings can maintain their power and authority.

He wrote that,

A king will best preserve his throne through moderation. The less he exercises authority, and in the fewest areas of civic life, the greater his power. 

To start, kingship in certain religious contexts is best preserved through mystique, which is ruined by excessive action. The less areas of action, the less his subjects will envy him. The survival of Spartan kingship may be attributed partly to the original division of power between two kings, and partly to the moderation afterwards by Theopompous. He may have strengthened the kingship by divesting himself of some of its powers.

Despotic tyrannies may be preserved in two ways, one of which was proved by Periander of Corinth, who found men of spirit who might oppose him and had them executed. But additional measures are possible, the main being the forbidding of common meals, associations, clubs, and education, or in other words, making every citizen a stranger to his fellow man.

Another line of policy involves getting information about everyone through a network of spies. This entails a secret police, like the female spies employed at Syracuse, or the eavesdroppers sent by the tyrant Hiero to public gatherings.

We can consider both the legitimate and illegitimate use of moderation and “veiling” one’s power.

Aristotle alludes to the mystique of kingship that exists in part because of its overt connections to religion. In pre-modern Christian societies one assumed the throne “by the grace of God.” There was a conscious acknowledment that one did not “earn” the kingship through merit. Being the oldest son of the reigning monarch meant nothing in of itself. In other ancient societies, some kings reputedly had special connections to the gods, and in some places (such as Egypt), kings were demi-gods themselves.

Religion has power both through what it reveals and what it conceals. Recall the times in the gospel when Christ tells people not to tell about His healing miracles (ex: Mt. 16:20), or the fact that He spoke in parables (Mk. 4:12) to obscure meaning.

Veils are meant on one hand to obscure our view, but on they other, they reveal something else. Think, for example, of the robes and regalia of a king. In part such accoutrements are there for symbolic purposes. They also help the ordinary man disappear, and then subsequently reveal “the king.” In crucial moments (such as depicted in the video, when Charles II dissolved Parliament) words are best kept to a necessary minimum.

In a more down to earth manner, most parents know that they cannot comment about everything their kids do. They instinctively know that if they comment on everything they will soon lack the ability to speak about anything to their kids. Especially as your kids get older, you have to pick your spots. When my own kids were teenagers, I remember discovering that my attempts to rationally explain why they could not go “X” party only resulted in prolonged arguing and frustration. After I switched to simply stating “You cannot do ‘X,’ end of story, there was still anger, but less frustration, and it was much less prolonged. Such is the power that comes with veiling authority.

As your status elevates, you should speak less, but conversely, what you say carries greater weight. My paternal grandparents, for example, never told me what to do, except on two occasions, once when I was twelve, once when I was nineteen. In both instances, there was no question in my mind about heeding their advice. Asking something significant from me so rarely meant their words carried great weight. Of course my parents dealt with me in a more direct manner on a daily basis, and consequently had to say much to me than my grandparents. Naturally, sometimes I listened to my parents, and sometimes I did not.*

In monarchies no necessary “reason” existed as to why a particular family assumed the throne. No one needed a “reason.” Someone in medieval France or ancient Babylon did not need “convinced,” no defender of the king needed to syllogistically prove why “X” should reign. It was an accepted fact of their existence, akin to the rising and setting of the sun. In democracies, the very fact that we have choice means that person X might not have been president if only a, b, or c had happened. The opposition party immediately tries to minimize the reach of the current president, and begins planning to unseat him in the next election.

Aristotle mentions how monarchy can distort itself into a tyranny through the use of informants and a secret police. Such measures make sense for monarchies, in a way, for they parody the power that comes from the mystery of kingship. A well trained secret police can have great effectiveness because we both fear and revere secrets. Secrets have authority, whatever the end to which they are put.

Democracies value transparency and openness. We naturally distrust those who keep secrets, and voters need informed on the issues. Many see the rise of social media and Youtube as a great boon to our democratic political life. I grew up in an age of curated information. For political news to reach me, it had to pass down through various institutional filters in government and the media. Now we can get so much more information so much more quickly, and have no need of the institutional filters that existed for so long. Politicians can also speak more directly to people anytime they want on any issue.

But politicians, like parents, should not spout off indescriminately. They should in some measure hoard their ammunition and craft something of a mystique.** We can grant that democratic leaders need more visibility to the people they represent. But if everything is worthy of comment, quite soon nothing will matter to anyone. Those in power will find their arsenals either empty or full of duds.

Dave

*This dynamic may explain a common frustration of parents–they tell their kid to do ‘x,’ dozens of times and get no result. Someone adjacent to the family says the same thing and their children immediately think it’s a great idea.

**Teachers should do the same. Don’t be the teacher that lets your students know a laundry list of your personal likes, dislikes, voting habits, etc. or students will not see you in the mantle of “teacher,” but just as another regular Joe on Instagram.

Greetings Everyone,

This week we continued to look at the effects of the Reformation as they played out in the actions of nations. We began looking at the different religious paths different people took in the early decades of the Reformation, whether they embraced conservative or radical Protestantism. This week we began looking at the political fallout from these religious changes, with a special focus on the Spanish Armada, a conflict bewteen Spain and England.

To enter this world we should begin by trying to understand the idea of religious wars. We are used to seeing how religion can influence politics, but we have an aversion to wars fought directly for religious goal and aims. Certainly, such conflicts have mixed results in the annals of history. We may not see religion as a worthy cause because we do not believe that fighting could create a new religious reality.

But, a look at history does reveal that sometimes this does happen. The Moslem conquests of Arabia and North Africa bear this out.

In addition, there are two reasons to fight wars: 1) You believe you can win, and 2) You believe it is your duty. Sometimes the two overlap.

G.K. Chesterton’s famous quote (spoken by a character in his novella The Napoleon of Notting Hill, so it may not fully represent his own views) reads,

There were never any just wars but the religious wars.  There were never any humane wars, but the religious wars. For these men fought for something they claimed at least, to be the happiness of a man, the virtue  of a man.  A Crusader at least thought that Islam hurt the soul of every man, king, or tinker that it could capture.

Chesterton reminds us that if our faith truly forms the heart of who we are, fighting for something like resources or even security seem petty in comparison.

Finally, we can say that if a person or country’s faith truly forms the center of their life, when politics and religion overlap, one should be the cart, and the other, the horse.

Hopefully this sets the context for what we see in Europe in the late 16th century.

The Reformation brought about religious persecution on all sides. In general I see it shaking out this way:

• In Germany whether or not Catholics persecuted Protestants or vice-versa depended on circumstances and locale.
• In France, Catholics persecuted Protestants, and
• In England, Protestants persecuted Catholics (the reign of “Bloody” Mary notwithstanding).

Catholic persecution in England heightened significantly under Elizabeth I. Priests were hunted down and executed. Catholic nobleman had their property seized and their fortunes confiscated. As Elizabeth was the head of the country politically and religously, Catholicism was viewed as treason. Hence, the methods of execution involved, among other things, drawing and quartering. Catholics considered Elizabeth a heretic and Catholics were excused from the need to obey her authority. This raised the temperature considerably, as we might imagine.

We perhaps can identify more with the situation if we think of hypothetical conditions more in line with our own experience. At this time, religious identity formed the core of political reality. Imagine a world where at some point, the US had a revolution where the winners altered the constitution not completely, but significantly. We then lived with this new political reality and new constitution for 50 years. Suddenly, a faction arises that wanted to fully restore governance under the original Constitution. They have strong backing from other countries and good international connections, but lack significant support within the US itself. Which side would be right, and which wrong, in this scenario?

Mary Queen of Scots’ entrance into England and her seeking of asylum further complicated matters. Elizabeth and Mary were cousins, and had a long relationship/friendship. But now both were queens, and while Elizabeth was Protestant, Mary stayed Catholic.

Mary was on the run for her possible involvement with the murder of Lord Darnley in Scotland, or at least, her support of his murder. Protestants had gained the upper hand in Scotland, and she abdicated the throne. She came south hoping that Elizabeth would protect her. Perhaps she had purely personal motives. But perhaps, as some suggest, she came into England as a potential heir to the throne. As a Catholic, she would undue the work of Henry VIII and throw England back into chaos again.

So, while she was Elizabeth’s personal friend, she was simultaneously her political enemy. In time, she had Mary executed for treason, under debatable circumstances.

Spain’s king Phillip II had been married to Mary I (Bloody Mary) for a few years before her early death. In the late 16th century Spain was one of the more powerful countries in Europe, with a large navy and geo-political interests outside of Europe. England’s navy had attacked Spanish ships continuously over the past several years, and raided the Spanish coast to destroy parts of Spanish ports. Finally, Spain was in a war to try and keep their holdings in the Netherlands. Dutch Protestants fought for their independance, and England kept funneling aid to them.

So, for a combination of religious, political, and strategic reasons, Phillip II attempted to invade England. He sent a huge fleet of ships to land off the Dutch coast to pick up troops, which would then be ferried across the sea to land in England. A combination of terrible weather and poor decisions doomed the fleet to decimation. Some ships returned to Spain eventually, but Spain’s power received a check from which they never quite recovered. In turn, the status of England rose tremendously.

When we examine the past, we often seek to find good guys and bad guys. This is natural and often appropriate. But sometimes we face a situation where this type of clarity eludes us. This should push us towards humility and empathy for those that struggled differently to live rightlty before God in their own time.

Dave

Greetings Everyone,

As we progressed in our look at WW II, I wanted to the students to consider both Japan and Germany’s strategy in light of Machiavelli’s advice to those who conquer territory.

To sum up (for a fuller look review the Machiavelli and Janus post previously), Machiavelli offers victors two options. To have success one can either:

• Utterly destroy the area, wiping the slate clean and allowing you to put your stamp upon it, or
• Occupy the area with a large number of your forces.

The first involves gaining the reputation of a moral monster, the second involves significent expense and the need for constant supervision. But if one is willing to undertake either of these options, holding onto conquered territory becomes possible. What most opt for, however, is neither option. They (understandably!) wish to avoid significant cruelty, so they rule this out. But neither are they willing to pay the financial and political costs of occupation, so they opt with something lighter, something guaranteed to have the conquered territory slip out of your hands within a few years.

But Machiavelli’s advice is predicated on the fact that the ruler begins the conquest with at least the requisite funds needed. He seems to assume that the suggested conquest is at least possible in the practical sense.

Japan and Germany had formidable armies, and both had great success early in the war. But each country embarked on strategies that made no logical sense. Both bit off vastly more than they could chew, and instead of recognizing their mistake and withdrawing to a defensive perimeter, they doubled-down on those mistakes.

Which means that we should wonder if Germany and Japan considered them strategic “mistakes.”

First we can look at a map of Europe at the height of Germany’s conquests:

And secondly, a map of the height of Japanese territorial gains in early 1942:

We see that both countries enveloped territory vastly greater in size and population than their own countries. Occupying this amount of land and people would not be possible for them. However, neither the Japanese or the Germans had any aversion to extreme cruelty. So could that “work?” Again, no. Both the Germans and the Japanese did horrible things to civilians (be they Jewish, Slavic, Chinese, or Phillipino, respectively), they lacked the manpower to destroy such vast population groups. What they did accomplish was to perpetrate enough terror so that the population they could not destroy would be guaranteed to turn against them, forcing them to dedicate resources not just to the conventional armies of their enemies, but also the civilian militias within the territory they conquered.

This begs the question as to why these armies embarked on a strategy practically guaranteed to fail.

Perhaps, they wanted to fail. Or at least, they considered “success” a dramatic, cataclysmic failure, a pulling down of the roof on their heads.

This may seem a dramatic claim, but several examples I believe prove this point.

From the German side*

• Hitler’s refusal to allow retreats or strategic withdrawals from El Alamein or Stalingrad, both of which turned into catastrophic defeats.
• Hitler’s plan for the Battle of Bulge in winter 1944 was wildly risky and likely to result in disaster, but he preferred this “all or nothing” strategy to holding firm behind the Rhine river.

From the Japanese side

• Japan refused to dedicate any resources to rescuing downed pilots–conquer or die an honorable death were your options.
• When the US navy/marines captured Guadalcanal the Japanese refused to withdraw into a defensive perimeter, and instead issued orders to defend every area of territory no matter the odds.
• By the end of the war, Japan used suicide bombers in airplanes to try and sink enemy ships. They did not do so thinking that this would win them the war. It was a means to provide an honorable death for many young officers.

Many may not be aware that Hitler and others in his inner circle were huge fans of Wagnerian opera. Hitler’s favorite opera was entitled Rienzi, a story of a minor Roman offical who rebels against the corrupt nobles. For a time, he has success and tries to estbalish a just polity. But soon after he is betrayed. Rienzi himself refuses to compromise, and the people turn against him. Rienzi eventually perishes in flames started by the mob.

At the end of the war, Hitler had his chance (or perhaps orchestrated it on purpose?)** to have life imitate art. Convinced he had been betrayed by the generals and the German people, he stayed in his bunker and saw Berlin burn around him. After his marriage to Eva Braun, they committed suicide together. Hitler gave orders that their bodies be burned so they could never be discovered by their enemies.

My main goal in discussing these difficult things with the students was to try to help students make connections between beliefs, ideologies, and the results of the war itself. Germany and Japan had bad strategies for winning the war because they had bad beliefs and ideological commitments, which in turn led to oppressive cultures. This, in turn, created a climate where victory in war became extremely unlikely.

Although, perhaps both sides got what they really wanted in the end. The Nazi’s achieved their norse Ragnorak, and Japan had its version of a samurai’s honorable death.

Have a great weekend,

Dave

*To be fair, many German generals who were not Nazi ideologues did not agree with these decisions.

**We have no way of knowing for sure (that I am aware of) whether this opportunity was orchestrated on purpose or not. However, I would not be at all surprised if he did. Towards the end of the war, Hitler withdrew from reality and deeper into his fantasies and ideals.

Greetings All,

In the first post of the year, we talked about the debate various theologians and political scientists have had about whether or not government is a byproduct of sin, or would have existed regardless of whether or not we live in a fallen world. Part of this debate involves what we think the proper function of government should be, and how we arrive at government in the first place.

Aristotle developed a philosophy that supports the idea that the state is “natural,” that is, the state arises from what it means to be human apart from the reality of sin. He writes,

Because it is the completion of associations that exist by nature, every city exists by nature, having itself the same quality from which it grew. It is the logical end to which natural associations move, and the nature of things exists in their “end,” or purpose. Now self-sufficiency of a state is its proper end, and so the best place for a city to aim.

He who is without a city [community] is either a poor sort of being, like one whom Homer wrote about when he said,

‘Clanless and lawless and heartless is he.’

The man who is by such nature unable to join a city at once plunges into a passion for conflict, war, and strife. He cannot bond with his fellows, and only seeks to chop down rather than to plant.

Aristotle saw the family as the natural result of the family. When we think of our identity, we might assume that we are “ourselves” in a completely isolated way. But if we pull back, we see that we are who we are because of a variety of factors completely outside our control. Biologically, we inherit our DNA from our parents. Culturally, we are influenced by our families, our neighborhoods, and things that happen to us. Whenever we use the word “I” we cannot escape the reality of “Thou.”

If we define the self by those around us, Aristotle found it perfectly reasonable to argue that we need connections to others to realize our humanity in general, and our individual identities specifically. The state arises from the need for families to come together not so much to decide matters of right and wrong, but to expand our identity. Those without connections to others will become bestial, and lose something crucial to themselves. Just as our identity comes from others as people, so too families need to find their place among a larger group of familes.

Aristotle’s ideas might be more than mere theory. This development of family, to clan, to state, might actually have taken place in the Greek and Roman world, among other places.

Part of understanding Aristotle’s concept involves grasping the nature of “fractals.” We can define a “fractal” as a pattern that repeats itself at different scales, with smaller fractals containing the essence of the carrier of the pattern.

We should ask ourselves if

• The family is a fractal of the state

Or

• The state is a fractal of the family.

The difference is subtle, but has importance. If we prefer the former, the state gives legitmacy/support to the family. If the latter, the state derives its legitimacy/support from the family. But whichever side we might prefer, a relationship between the two remains. We all see, for example, political polarization, and a decline of our political culture. If we beleive in Aristotle’s connection between the state and family, this decline should not surprise us. The family has been in crisis for some time in our country. One is a fractal of the other.

The ripple effectes of our decision about priority has expanding fractals of consequences. On the one hand, radical individualism makes no metaphysical sense.

• We did not create ourselves
• Who we are has a strong relation to our parental DNA
• Where we grow up, those around us, etc., all do much to shape our identity.

So it is obvious that our identity comes from outside of ourselves.

But we cannot swing in the opposite direction and declare that no such thing as personal identity exists. Societies that assert that no one has any identity outside of the collective are primed to become totalitarian monsters. Nazi Germany, Stalin’s Soviet Union, and Mao’s China all prove this out. Such regimes wreak havoc on the world, as WW II bears out.

Dave