By Samuel Damren
My last commentary for The Legal News, published in June 2024, concluded a series on Niccolo Machiavelli with an observation about Donald Trump. This commentary returns to the subject.
In the summer of 2024, Trump claimed he was only joking when he told Time Magazine that at the onset of his next term he would be “dictator for a day.”
The June 17, 2024 commentary posed a follow-up question: “If not as future dictator, what role does Trump occupy in current politics and is there any parallel to that role in political history?”
The historical parallel I suggested was in 16th century Italy. The parallel role I thought best fit Trump was that of a “condottieri captain,” a mercenary leader routinely hired by Italian city states for protection and aggression against adversaries. One year later, now President Trump has more than proven the accuracy of that judgment.
Condottieri captains in 16th century Italy Machiavelli authored a number of works examining tensions between competing components and factions of political structures. One of those works is titled, “Arte Della Guerra” or “The Art of War.” Unlike “The Prince,” the work he is best known for but published posthumously, Machiavelli published “The Art of War” in 1521 during his lifetime.
According to scholar John M. Najemy, the author of “Machiavelli’s Broken World,” the “Arte” in the Italian title does not refer to “art” in contemporary translation. Rather it refers to the “profession” or “occupation” of war. “The Art of War” is an accurate but historical fiction about of the “profession” of the mercenary class in Italy.
That Machiavelli regarded the mercenary class and their captains as the nemesis of a “well-ordered republic” would be vast understatement. Alongside cowardly nobles who regularly hired the condottieri instead of relying on militia drawn from a city’s population, Machiavelli blamed the captains of condottieri for the “disordini” or political disorder, turmoil and unrest that had corrupted Italian city state governments. Machiavelli felt so strongly about the destructive influence of condottieri captains that he chose to speak against it, publicly and at risk.
The “Art of War” recounts a conversation that could have taken place in the “gardens” of Florence, but did not. The fictional dialogue is between two historical figures: the aged mercenary leader, Fabrizio Colonna (1450- 1520) and the much younger noble Cosimo Rucellai (1494-1519).
Fabrizio begins the conversation by observing that no “good man ever practiced” this art (the profession of mercenary). He explains, “Because he will never be judged good who engages in a career in which, by wanting to draw utility from it in every time, he must be rapacious, fraudulent, violent, and have many qualities that of necessity make him not good. Nor can the men who use it as an art, the great as well as the small, be made otherwise, because this art does not nourish them in peace. Hence, they are necessitated either to plan that there not be peace or to succeed so much in times of war that they can nourish themselves in peace. And neither one of these two thoughts dwells in a good man. For from wanting to nourish themselves in every time arise the robberies, the acts of violence, and the assassinations that such soldiers do to friends as well as enemies. And from not wanting peace, comethe deceptions that the captains use on those who hire them so that the war may last.”
As the dialogue continues, Fabrizio also warns young Cosimo that captains of condottieri hired to defend a city state often simultaneously conspire to usurp their employer and become princes of the city themselves. Or, as Fabrizio said of one such captain, he “not only deceived the Milanese, whose soldier he was, but took away their liberty.”
In a later work, “The Florentine Histories,” Machiavelli notes an additional condemnation of mercenary captains in that they were “raised from infancy in [a culture of] arms and, knowing no other profession, sought by means of arms to make themselves honored with wealth and power.” Through these two observations and insights, Machiavelli identified both the dilemma posed by the aspiration of condottieri captains to become princes as well as the destructive effects on the city states from their efforts to first attain and then maintain princely status.
The dilemma In contrast to militia formed by residents fighting to protect their homes and families, a condottieri captain’s leadership skills were limited to commanding mercenary forces. As a result, condottieri captains lacked experience and skills in governing city states in times of peace. As a consequence, condottieri princes found it necessary during times of peace to create or to inflame “disordini” among the populace that they ruled.
The “disordini,” if sufficiently provocative, would divide the citizenry into competing and polarized factions that a condottieri prince could in turn maneuver and exploit just as if he were on the battlefield leading troops.
The effects of this “disordini” afforded a condottieri prince comfort since he was otherwise ill-equipped to govern a city state in times of peace.
The destructive effects of inflamed “disordini” Internal “disordini” could be created by a condottieri prince in a variety of ways. First, through the slander, persecution and pillage of political rivals, foreigners and other targeted individuals or groups. Second, as the “disordini” heightened in intensity, the prince could turn the same tactics on allies, institutions, friends, family or anyone within the population that dared oppose his chosen side of a dispute.
As Machiavelli observed, the resulting hostilities and accusations between competing factions would spiral to consume the populace. Accusations that might have had some basis in fact “were magnified, those not true were fabricated, and the people who ordinarily hated [slanders], believed both the true and the false ones.”
Najemy’s historical analysis of the internal “disordini” that condottieri princes created and inflamed supports that observation: “The essence of the infirmity was that factional hostilities so distorted people’s judgment that they began to believe all manner of things they had previously rejected.”
As an unraveling of societal foundations took hold from these destructive effects, the city states of Italy became, in Najemy’s words, “fearful both ofkeeping” their former condottieri captains in place as princes while ceding more and more liberty to them; and, conversely, of “letting them go” at risk of losing the protection they seemingly provided from outside adversaries. As a result of this intransigence, previously “well ordered” city states began to disintegrate from within.
Donald Trump as condottieri captain turned prince The trajectory of Donald Trump’s rise in American politics over the past decade and a half strongly parallels a 16th century condottieri captain’s ascent to princedom. To solidify and expand his power in office, he is now employing the same tactics a condottieri captain turned prince utilized to solidify and maintain princely status.
Trump’s family’s wealth was originally secured as slumlords in New York City. For those outside the Big Apple, it is difficult to imagine just how despised that profession is to residents. For tenants, it can be a “no holds barred” place of economic oppression where fraud, bullying, threats and duplicity are common currency. Trump honed his business acumen on that battlefield and then ventured into other arenas such as gambling, fraudulent non-profits, Trump Steaks, name licensing, and the like.
Thus positioned, Trump appeared the perfect candidate that the Republican Party clamored for in 2016 to “shake up” Washington, “drain the swamp,” and expel an immigrant invasion supposedly threatening “to poison the blood” of America. He saw an opportunity that the political establishment discounted and successfully ran with it just as a 16th century condottieri captain might have done to become prince.
Upon his recent return to office, Trump abandoned restraint. He is now acting and behaving as a full-fledged 16th century condottieri captain turned prince. Immediately after inauguration, Trump launched a spate of internal “disordini” designed to inflame factional and regional hostility to breaking points.
The goal is clear. To adequately address these exaggerated “emergencies,” Trump, in his view, must be permitted to take extraordinary steps as President to further expand his power and control no matter what the destructive cost may be to American liberties.
These actions and strategies repeat the “astonishing picture of punitive and repressive control” that Machiavelli and Najemy describe condottieri princes undertaking to secure “control of the magistracies, the law, the police, and the electoral and fiscal institutions in order to punish enemies and reward friends.”
No longer content with being dictator for a day, Trump aims at remaining a condottieri prince on a battlefield of “disordini” for as long as possible and by whatever means.
The next commentary in what will be a continuing series examining Trump’s attacks on, and demands to sidestep or control, American institutions begins with the judiciary.
———————
Samuel Damren is a retired Detroit lawyer and author of “What Justice Looks Like.”
My last commentary for The Legal News, published in June 2024, concluded a series on Niccolo Machiavelli with an observation about Donald Trump. This commentary returns to the subject.
In the summer of 2024, Trump claimed he was only joking when he told Time Magazine that at the onset of his next term he would be “dictator for a day.”
The June 17, 2024 commentary posed a follow-up question: “If not as future dictator, what role does Trump occupy in current politics and is there any parallel to that role in political history?”
The historical parallel I suggested was in 16th century Italy. The parallel role I thought best fit Trump was that of a “condottieri captain,” a mercenary leader routinely hired by Italian city states for protection and aggression against adversaries. One year later, now President Trump has more than proven the accuracy of that judgment.
Condottieri captains in 16th century Italy Machiavelli authored a number of works examining tensions between competing components and factions of political structures. One of those works is titled, “Arte Della Guerra” or “The Art of War.” Unlike “The Prince,” the work he is best known for but published posthumously, Machiavelli published “The Art of War” in 1521 during his lifetime.
According to scholar John M. Najemy, the author of “Machiavelli’s Broken World,” the “Arte” in the Italian title does not refer to “art” in contemporary translation. Rather it refers to the “profession” or “occupation” of war. “The Art of War” is an accurate but historical fiction about of the “profession” of the mercenary class in Italy.
That Machiavelli regarded the mercenary class and their captains as the nemesis of a “well-ordered republic” would be vast understatement. Alongside cowardly nobles who regularly hired the condottieri instead of relying on militia drawn from a city’s population, Machiavelli blamed the captains of condottieri for the “disordini” or political disorder, turmoil and unrest that had corrupted Italian city state governments. Machiavelli felt so strongly about the destructive influence of condottieri captains that he chose to speak against it, publicly and at risk.
The “Art of War” recounts a conversation that could have taken place in the “gardens” of Florence, but did not. The fictional dialogue is between two historical figures: the aged mercenary leader, Fabrizio Colonna (1450- 1520) and the much younger noble Cosimo Rucellai (1494-1519).
Fabrizio begins the conversation by observing that no “good man ever practiced” this art (the profession of mercenary). He explains, “Because he will never be judged good who engages in a career in which, by wanting to draw utility from it in every time, he must be rapacious, fraudulent, violent, and have many qualities that of necessity make him not good. Nor can the men who use it as an art, the great as well as the small, be made otherwise, because this art does not nourish them in peace. Hence, they are necessitated either to plan that there not be peace or to succeed so much in times of war that they can nourish themselves in peace. And neither one of these two thoughts dwells in a good man. For from wanting to nourish themselves in every time arise the robberies, the acts of violence, and the assassinations that such soldiers do to friends as well as enemies. And from not wanting peace, comethe deceptions that the captains use on those who hire them so that the war may last.”
As the dialogue continues, Fabrizio also warns young Cosimo that captains of condottieri hired to defend a city state often simultaneously conspire to usurp their employer and become princes of the city themselves. Or, as Fabrizio said of one such captain, he “not only deceived the Milanese, whose soldier he was, but took away their liberty.”
In a later work, “The Florentine Histories,” Machiavelli notes an additional condemnation of mercenary captains in that they were “raised from infancy in [a culture of] arms and, knowing no other profession, sought by means of arms to make themselves honored with wealth and power.” Through these two observations and insights, Machiavelli identified both the dilemma posed by the aspiration of condottieri captains to become princes as well as the destructive effects on the city states from their efforts to first attain and then maintain princely status.
The dilemma In contrast to militia formed by residents fighting to protect their homes and families, a condottieri captain’s leadership skills were limited to commanding mercenary forces. As a result, condottieri captains lacked experience and skills in governing city states in times of peace. As a consequence, condottieri princes found it necessary during times of peace to create or to inflame “disordini” among the populace that they ruled.
The “disordini,” if sufficiently provocative, would divide the citizenry into competing and polarized factions that a condottieri prince could in turn maneuver and exploit just as if he were on the battlefield leading troops.
The effects of this “disordini” afforded a condottieri prince comfort since he was otherwise ill-equipped to govern a city state in times of peace.
The destructive effects of inflamed “disordini” Internal “disordini” could be created by a condottieri prince in a variety of ways. First, through the slander, persecution and pillage of political rivals, foreigners and other targeted individuals or groups. Second, as the “disordini” heightened in intensity, the prince could turn the same tactics on allies, institutions, friends, family or anyone within the population that dared oppose his chosen side of a dispute.
As Machiavelli observed, the resulting hostilities and accusations between competing factions would spiral to consume the populace. Accusations that might have had some basis in fact “were magnified, those not true were fabricated, and the people who ordinarily hated [slanders], believed both the true and the false ones.”
Najemy’s historical analysis of the internal “disordini” that condottieri princes created and inflamed supports that observation: “The essence of the infirmity was that factional hostilities so distorted people’s judgment that they began to believe all manner of things they had previously rejected.”
As an unraveling of societal foundations took hold from these destructive effects, the city states of Italy became, in Najemy’s words, “fearful both ofkeeping” their former condottieri captains in place as princes while ceding more and more liberty to them; and, conversely, of “letting them go” at risk of losing the protection they seemingly provided from outside adversaries. As a result of this intransigence, previously “well ordered” city states began to disintegrate from within.
Donald Trump as condottieri captain turned prince The trajectory of Donald Trump’s rise in American politics over the past decade and a half strongly parallels a 16th century condottieri captain’s ascent to princedom. To solidify and expand his power in office, he is now employing the same tactics a condottieri captain turned prince utilized to solidify and maintain princely status.
Trump’s family’s wealth was originally secured as slumlords in New York City. For those outside the Big Apple, it is difficult to imagine just how despised that profession is to residents. For tenants, it can be a “no holds barred” place of economic oppression where fraud, bullying, threats and duplicity are common currency. Trump honed his business acumen on that battlefield and then ventured into other arenas such as gambling, fraudulent non-profits, Trump Steaks, name licensing, and the like.
Thus positioned, Trump appeared the perfect candidate that the Republican Party clamored for in 2016 to “shake up” Washington, “drain the swamp,” and expel an immigrant invasion supposedly threatening “to poison the blood” of America. He saw an opportunity that the political establishment discounted and successfully ran with it just as a 16th century condottieri captain might have done to become prince.
Upon his recent return to office, Trump abandoned restraint. He is now acting and behaving as a full-fledged 16th century condottieri captain turned prince. Immediately after inauguration, Trump launched a spate of internal “disordini” designed to inflame factional and regional hostility to breaking points.
The goal is clear. To adequately address these exaggerated “emergencies,” Trump, in his view, must be permitted to take extraordinary steps as President to further expand his power and control no matter what the destructive cost may be to American liberties.
These actions and strategies repeat the “astonishing picture of punitive and repressive control” that Machiavelli and Najemy describe condottieri princes undertaking to secure “control of the magistracies, the law, the police, and the electoral and fiscal institutions in order to punish enemies and reward friends.”
No longer content with being dictator for a day, Trump aims at remaining a condottieri prince on a battlefield of “disordini” for as long as possible and by whatever means.
The next commentary in what will be a continuing series examining Trump’s attacks on, and demands to sidestep or control, American institutions begins with the judiciary.
———————
Samuel Damren is a retired Detroit lawyer and author of “What Justice Looks Like.”
