Sunday, 15 December 2013

The Author Formerly Hated for ‘The Prince’

When Machiavelli began work in 1513 on The Prince, he was not to know that it would become one of the most infamous books for the next five centuries. Indeed the worst thing anyone could do in trying to obtain or wield power came to be known by that deplorable adjective, ‘Machiavellian’.

Anyone who has actually studied the works of Machiavelli, especially his Discourses, an essential companion to The Prince, would know that Machiavelli was far from being a friend of deceptive and ruthless rule. But before we look at why the common misunderstanding should be corrected, we should consider a current trend that projects an even more perverse interpretation of Machiavelli.

Take the 2013 BBC TV programme, ‘Who’s Afraid of Machiavelli?’. Instead of challenging the view that Machiavelli was seeking to guide people with power to use it immorally, the makers of the programme and all who were invited to speak on it not only reinforced that view, but also claimed that it was to be celebrated. Their take on Machiavelli essentially came down to this: if you’re running a government or a large business, you have to be ruthless; you have to make others fear you; and you have to go with your judgement alone on what should be done, and get it done by whatever means necessary.

For these political insiders and business gurus, Machiavelli should not be denounced for advocating nasty power play, but praised for validating it as essential in getting the business of a ruler or top executive done.

But while some people may revel in imagining that even the most ruthless behaviour (of their own or the leaders they advised) would be endorsed by a world famous thinker, there are three crucial points they should have noted. First, when Machiavelli advised that the ends would justify the means, he was very specific about what those ends were, namely the establishment and development of a free republic – i.e., an association of citizens who collectively have a say through public deliberations over how they are to be governed. The people are, he insisted, “more prudent, more stable, and of better judgment than a prince.” So unless the leader in question is genuinely striving to create and secure a form of governance which spreads power more evenly to all people, nothing is justified; least of all, any action to simply make oneself more powerful and feared.

Secondly, the authoritarian model is only recommended where the option of a free republic is not immediately attainable. Machiavelli’s advice was not that a leader should be authoritarian, but that if one were living in a state where power was concentrated exclusively at the top and rival forces would resort to vicious means to seize the throne (not to mention stopping anyone from democratising power to the citizenry), then one would have to be ruthless in countering those threats and firm in securing one’s own power. But if one were in a free republic, or had managed to transform an absolute monarchy into one, then there would be no excuse for using repressive measures.

Thirdly, for Machiavelli, even when a ruler is steering a course from the prevailing authoritarian conditions to a free republic, it does not mean that anything is permissible. One has to ask if one’s actions are helping or hindering the all important process of bringing about a form of governance whereby people can speak feely about contested issues and jointly secure their safety and prosperity without being dependent on the whims of one individual (or an elite).

If political and business leaders want to learn anything from Machiavelli, they should stop focusing on expanding their personal power as an end in itself, and start devoting themselves to empowering others to share in decision-making so that it is never the elite few but always the people who together determine the common good.

BBC Radio did also produce Jonathan Freedland’s ‘Machiavelli: Devil or Democrat?’, which gave some airtime to Machiavelli’s positive influence on the development of democratic republics. However, Freedland still could not resist casting Machiavelli as part ‘devil’ for The Prince. For a scholarly exposition, consult Machiavelli and Republicanism, Bock, G., Skinner, Q., and Viroli, M. (Eds.), Cambridge University Press: 1990.

Sunday, 1 December 2013

The Art of Nurturing Communities

Governments like to turn on the rhetoric about helping communities to develop and thrive. But while some politicians genuinely support community development by investing resources in what are known to make a difference, others talk about building a ‘Big Society’ even as they embark on doing the very things evidence tells us would sap communities’ strength and destroy social cohesion.

Someone will inevitably ask: what differentiates between effective community development and superficial, or worse, counter-productive, activities that do more harm than good to community life? The truth is that there is a wealth of resources out there. From the Community Development Foundation to the materials produced in relation to the Together We Can programme, there is no shortage of information to guide us. And if one is looking for a one-volume handy guide, there is Community Research for Community Development, ed. by M. Mayo, Z. Mediwelso-Bendek, & C. Packham (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013)

This book is particularly illuminating when it deals with the issue of researching what works in community-based activities. By bringing together a group of academics who have actually engaged with community organisations, it has given us a collection of essays which combine analytical clarity with practical understanding.

The editors contributed an invaluable opening chapter that tackled head-on some of the most difficult problems in researching community development. They drew attention to the need for conceptual rigour. Community development is enhanced by state-community sector partnership, but undermined by communities having to pick up the pieces of a dismantled state. Following Alinsky’s focus to organise in localities to attain achievable goals in the “here and now” is quite distinct from Freira’s injunction to understand and challenge the underlying causes of social injustice. Doing one does not guarantee the other.

From the book’s wide range of insights, case studies, and wise counsel, I would like to share three ideas that strike me as most important. First, governments concerned with learning about what impact individual community development programmes are having should avoid pressing for evaluation in narrow, pre-conceived, and often irrelevant terms. Those who only ask how many golden eggs are laid by a flock of geese, so to speak, will never appreciate, as the Romans did, the protective value of geese as ‘guard dogs’.

Secondly, researchers should be given scope to tailor their study to help community groups learn more about their own strengths and weaknesses as a constructive exercise, rather than simply to churn out data to respond to measures drawn up by funders. The former approach would actually often lead to more improvements than the all too frequent use of the latter.

Last but not least, both funders and community-based practitioners should learn to bridge the contrasting ‘languages’ they use by developing at the outset a common understanding of a shared enterprise. An enterprise, all involved would do well to remember, which is likely to resemble less a scientific experiment (where input, output, impact can be measured in precise, pre-defined terms), and more a team-building exercise where people come to discover and celebrate their collective potential as a community.