Book Review: Be Like the Fox by Erica Benner

Machiavelli’s The Prince is one of the most famous books in Western culture. Written in the early 16th century and banned by the Vatican until the 1890s, it seems to serve as a how-to guide for barbaric warmongering and ruthless leadership. But, according to Erica Benner’s Be Like the Fox, in order to truly understand the book, you have to ask questions like: • Who was it written for? • Should certain parts be emphasized over other parts? • Who exactly was Machiavelli? In order to answer those questions, Benner brings us back to the Florence during Machiavelli’s life, from the late 15th century through the early 16th century. This was a turbulent time in general – at the time of Machiavelli’s childhood, Florence was one of a number of Italian states, constantly at war with each other, and fearing incursions from larger armies such as the French, the Holy Roman Empire, and the Papal army, all while dodging intermittent plagues. But as Machiavelli grew into adulthood, the road grew rockier still. Up through Machiavelli’s childhood, the “republic” of Florence had been held tightly by the Medici banking family. However, in 1494, with leverage from invading French troops, the Medicis were thrown out, and Florence began an era as a true republic. Although this was a truly positive development, there was little time to celebrate, as Florence had to ensure the French would keep their promises to Florence, plus defend against Cesare Borgia’s Papal army and keep their possessions (such as Pisa) from rebelling. It was in this environment that Machiavelli entered politics. (Note: If you were a fan of shows like The Borgias, Da Vinci’s Demons, and The Medicis, this book will be like reading Us Weekly) Machiavelli’s political service for the republic mostly involved diplomacy – while he was never an official ambassador, he did spend time representing Florence to the courts of France, the Holy Roman Empire, the Vatican, and even Cesare Borgia. His greatest development, however, involved the army. As a city-state controlled by the very wealthy, Florence never had a standing army – when they were threatened they would pay for mercenaries to defend them. This often backfired, not only because the mercenaries were likely to liable to argue about payment or even attack the army-less host country, but also because when the chips were against the wall, they had little to fight for and often ran away. Machiavelli proposed raising an army of Florentines, who had an actual stake in victory, and proceeded to work through the government to turn farmers into fighters. It was his crowning political achievement, and earned him much glory in the republic. Then, in the early 16th century, after a series of political blunders, the Medicis were not only allowed back into Florence but also launched a successful coup. As a leading figure of the overthrown republic, and as a friend to many of the people who had originally exiled the Medicis, Machiavelli was imprisoned by the Medicis and tortured. After weeks of torture, the Medicis determined that Machiavelli was not a threat: they let him go, but barred him from entering government service. Now a political animal, Machiavelli had trouble adjusting to “normal” life. With no other outlet, and many of his republic friends dead or afraid to talk to him, Machiavelli turned to writing. While Machiavelli is best known for The Prince, he was also a poet and playwright (although many of his works had some political subtext, usually jabs at the Medicis). He even wrote a book complementary to The Prince about how republics should govern. But The Prince is what he would always be remembered for. What Benner makes clear is that Machiavelli wrote The Prince specifically for the Medici family. As a political animal barred from politics, Machiavelli wanted to prove to the Medicis how knowledgeable he was about governing, and how he was in no way a threat to their rule. This is the reason The Prince is written as realpolitik – it speaks the language of overlords. Buried within the text, however, are seeds of good government, with passages on the importance of just laws, fair play, and, of course, a standing army. So, in context, the most ruthless sections of The Prince are not the point – they are the needle holding the medicine of justice. After years of proving himself to the Medicis through his writings and few remaining friends in high places, the Medicis finally did allow Machiavelli to perform some small-level political work. Shortly thereafter, the Medicis were overthrown again. Machiavelli was overjoyed – however, now seen as a collaborator with the Medicis, he was barred from politics once again, and died shortly thereafter. To close the loop, this second true republic did not outlast Machiavelli for very long – the Holy Roman Emperor reinstated the Medicis in Florence, and the next republic would not spring up until the 19th century. As you can see, this is a very gripping story, and really casts a new light on the meaning of The Prince. The only struggle with this book is the writing style. Benner is obsessed with including passages from Machiavelli’s own writing into her writing (noted through italics), and so will have sentences throughout each page going in and out of italics (even though the italicized portions rarely offer anything useful other than being written in Machiavelli’s hand). Due to the disruptive nature of the writing, the passages move in and out of present and past tense; in fact, there are some places where it seems Benner is unclear what tense her own writing should be in, all of which breaks the flow of the book. So, very exciting and illuminating story, with just a few demerits for unclear writing: let’s say seven out of ten hot dogs. Still recommended – especially for fans of The Borgias (you know who you are!).