Latest news with #NiccolòMachiavelli
New York Times
23-07-2025
- Politics
- New York Times
This 19th-Century Novel Is a Playbook for Surviving Autocracy
There's been a vogue this year among political pundits for using 'The Prince,' Niccolò Machiavelli's 16th-century guide to autocratic power-boosting, as a cheat sheet for interpreting the hidden motives and unforeseen drama of President Trump's second term. Consisting of 26 short chapters packed with shrewd, cynical advice drawn from myth, history and its author's experience as a Florentine diplomat to the courts of Europe, Machiavelli's manual was written to butter up the Medici family, which had just returned to power in Florence after 18 years in exile. Machiavelli presented his manuscript to Lorenzo de' Medici with a fawning note that read: 'I am anxious to offer myself to your Magnificence with some token of my devotion to you.' 'The Prince' devotes many passages to the power plays that bigwigs in the orbit of autocrats typically attempt. Machiavelli calls such influencers grandi (grandees) and gives the prince tips on how to block their ambitions and keep them fearful and obedient. In his day, grandi included titled nobles, plus government ministers, popes, archbishops, military commanders and anyone with enough wealth and charisma to hold sway. Today, we might call them simply 'elites.' It may seem self-sabotaging of Machiavelli to have offered his ruler insights on how to 'manage' the grandees, who, he stressed, aren't worth worrying about, because the prince 'can make and unmake them every day, increasing and lowering their standing at will.' But Machiavelli wrote his book just months after being imprisoned, tortured and banished from Florence by the new regime, on suspicion of disloyalty. He wrote it, in other words, in hopes of proving his fealty to the Medici, clearing his name and saving his skin. The question arises: Why didn't he write a playbook aimed at his fellow elites instead — to help them avoid incurring the prince's wrath? The answer, of course, is that such a book would have been foolhardy, given the real threat of retribution from the prince and his adherents. And Machiavelli was no fool. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Hypebeast
14-07-2025
- Automotive
- Hypebeast
Ducati Honors the Italian Grand Prix with 'Genius of the Renaissance'
Last month, the Italian Grand Prix brought together motorcycle fans from across the globe. Landing in the iconic Mugello circuit,Ducatiunveiled its latest project that celebrates Italy's rich cultural heritage and its contribution to the Renaissance era. Exploring the beauty of art, technology and excellence, the project embraces the joint ethos of the Italian Renaissance from the 14th and 16th centuries and Ducati to create a special livery for the Desmosedici GP bikes and a racing suit. The concepts are inspired by two contrasting elements of the same era: Leonardo da Vinci's genius, finding synergy between art and science; and Niccolò Machiavelli, the philosopher representing the 'dark side' of the Renaissance. While the former's famousAncient Captaindrawing becomes the highlight, contributing historian Marcello Simonetta leans on a quote from Machiavelli'sThe Prince: 'Since a prince needs to know how to use the beast, he must choose the fox and the lion; because the lion cannot protect himself from snares, and the fox cannot defend himself from wolves. One must therefore be a fox to recognize snares, and a lion to frighten wolves. Those who use only force do not understand this.' Through these inspirations, Ducati explores the modern-day knight and their motorized steeds by enlisting ridersFrancesco BagnaiaandMarc Márquezto be the face of the story. Reinterpreting the two historical references through a contemporary lens, designer Drudi incorporates a lion, which was part of the original decoration in the Ancient Captain, and a fox depicted on the special livery. Elsewhere, the riders' racing numbers, 63 and 93, are also branded onto their bikes in a similar style to their armor-like suits that continue the theme. The campaign visuals take the two riders to Florence, also known as 'the cradle of the Renaissance,' championing the knighthood concept and the city's reverence. From its grand Stibbert museum to the landmarks Piazza della Signoria and Palazzo Vecchio — it captures the spirit of design excellence and artistic beauty. Check out the campaign above. For more information, visit the Ducatiwebsite.
Express Tribune
01-05-2025
- Politics
- Express Tribune
A kingdom of temporary kings
Listen to article In the humid courtrooms of Islamabad, where ambition wears the robe of law; in the guarded compounds of Rawalpindi, where decisions are written in invisible ink; and in the vibrant alleys of Lahore, where every brick remembers a promise, the old lessons of The Prince stir quietly beneath the surface. More than five centuries ago, Niccolò Machiavelli observed that promises are made to serve the past but broken to serve the present. Nowhere does this hold truer than in Pakistan's restless political landscape, where alliances shift like sand dunes, and survival, not service, has become the ultimate art. In The Prince, Machiavelli laid bare the mechanics of power: loyalty is a mirage; fortune must be subdued by force; and a ruler must master the delicate balance between love and fear, always leaning toward the latter. From the khaki corridors to the marble halls of Parliament, Pakistan's rulers have long understood this playbook, often better than they care to admit. Here, promises are declared with grand gestures on rickety stages and broken in whispered deals behind heavy doors. Political dynasties, once heralded as the torchbearers of democracy, have morphed into guilds of survival, trading principles for protection. Every election is a duel between dreams and cynicism, and cynicism almost always wins. Manifestos are printed in glossy brochures, lofty visions are unfurled under blinking lights, yet when the dust settles, the only promises kept are those made behind closed doors. Those who rise by fortune alone, Machiavelli warned, struggle to keep their thrones. Pakistan's history is littered with leaders who mistook a favourable wind for deep roots. They rose on the backs of borrowed alliances, hollow charisma and fleeting moments of national desperation, only to find that the same hands which lifted them could just as easily cast them aside. The silent empire, that permanent establishment Machiavelli would instantly recognise, is Pakistan's true prince. Generals retire, judges swap robes, politicians trade loyalties, but the system mutates and endures, self-renewing like a virus for which no vaccine has yet been found. Beneath the visible theatre of elections and cabinet reshuffles, the architecture of control remains intact: flexible, unaccountable and eternal. Power here understands well that it is safer to be feared than loved. It struts through marble corridors in pressed uniforms. It thunders from cracked microphones at political rallies. It smiles from billboards that vanish overnight when fortunes shift. Love here is a liability, a fleeting emotion easily shattered by the next great betrayal. Fear, however, endures like a bitter aftertaste in the national consciousness. Once, a cricketer prince stood before the towering silhouette of Minar-e-Pakistan, arms raised to the swelling crowds gathered under the open sky. He spoke of justice, of rebirth, of a country cleansed of its old sins. The people roared back, drunk on hope. Somewhere, in colder, quieter rooms, men in suits and stars took notes. They saw not just a leader rising, but a useful instrument for unsettling old arrangements, until the day he too outlived his utility. Machiavelli's warning was clear: those who rely on fortune must work twice as hard to secure their reign. In Pakistan, fortune wears a uniform, and favour is always conditional. When the tides shift, they do so without warning, sweeping away even the most meticulously built empires. Betrayal is not the exception here; it is the bloodstream of politics. Yesterday's kingmaker is today's exile. Today's insurgent is tomorrow's insider. The line between villain and saviour blurs until it disappears entirely, swallowed by the sheer pragmatism of survival. Down the Grand Trunk Road, in the heart of Punjab, political dynasties whisper into the ears of loyalists. The Lion of Lahore, bruised but not broken, plots a careful return. His heiress sharpens her speeches; old party workers dust off tattered flags. The thrones may change occupants, but the choreography remains the same, a careful dance between nostalgia and necessity. Machiavelli would recognise every scene. He wrote that a ruler must appear merciful, faithful, sincere and religious, but be ready to act otherwise when needed. Pakistan's politicians perfect this masquerade: during campaigns they wrap themselves in virtue, during governance they wield power like an unblinking blade. Justice is brandished at rallies, bartered in negotiations, and quietly buried when inconvenient truths threaten fragile alliances. The judiciary too moves carefully along a narrowing tightrope. By day, judges anchor their words in the Constitution; by night, they read the shifting winds of power. Verdicts do not always fall by the weight of evidence alone, but often by forces less visible and far more compelling. Laws, by themselves, cannot secure a kingdom; as Machiavelli saw, real power must always be buttressed by something stronger; force, fear or influence. In the candlelit homes of the poor, in the crowded buses that rattle through the cities, the people whisper. Another promise broken. Another prince fallen. Another saviour waiting in the wings. Beneath the noise of political spectacles, their quiet despair and stubborn hope persist, unacknowledged but undefeated. Machiavelli understood them too. People may mourn the death of a loved one, but they are slower to forgive the theft of their inheritance. In Pakistan, generations have watched their true inheritance - dignity, justice, and a future - bartered away by leaders who loved the throne more than they loved the people. The cycle is relentless. A populist rises. The old order recoils. An alliance is struck. A coup, soft or hard, unfolds. A courtroom becomes an execution ground. The people are summoned, inflamed, exhausted, and finally silenced. And yet, beneath the dust and disillusionment, something stirs. The hunger for real leadership, not princes, not caretakers, not kings in waiting, but servants of the people, remains. It endures in every quiet conversation, in every guarded hope, in every refusal to fully give up. The stage is set. The players are the same. The audience, though bruised and battered, still watches. And somewhere, in the heavy air of an endless Pakistani summer, The Prince walks on. But this time, the audience does not just watch. They wait.
Irish Times
24-04-2025
- Business
- Irish Times
Big Pharma goes tone deaf
'Never waste the opportunity offered by a good crisis' is a maxim with many reported sources. Perhaps not surprisingly it is now generally attributed to Niccolò Machiavelli, the Italian philosopher, author and diplomat. Popularised more recently by Barack Obama's chief-of-staff Rahm Emanuel, the point is that times of crisis can provide an opportunity to do things you could not do before. Europe's pharma bosses are evidently believers in the principle on the basis of a letter to the Financial Times this week where Novartis chief executive Vas Narasimhan and Paul Hudson, his counterpart at Sanofi, suggested an approach that might pay dividends for the European Union as it looks to counter the tariff threat from Donald Trump's America – increase drug prices towards the much higher levels paid by the US. Their logic? READ MORE The US pays nearly three times as much for branded and generic medicines as other comparable countries, according to US government estimates. And with tariffs now looming the companies say they have even less incentive to invest in an increasingly uncompetitive European Union. Certainly Big Pharma has been quick to fall into line, promising big US investments to try to sweeten president Trump. Roche said this week that it would invest $50 billion in the US, Novartis has pledged $23 billion of spending on manufacturing and R&D, and US drugmakers Johnson & Johnson and Eli Lilly have both promised big investments. Lower prices in the EU 'artificially [cap] biopharma market growth' and creates a 'clear disincentive for innovators', Narasimhan and Hudson add, citing data that 30 per cent of medicines approved in the US are not available in Europe after two years. Even by the standards of the pharmaceuticals sector, the letter is spectacularly tone deaf. Leaving aside their obsequious toadying at the court of Trump, it ignores entirely the realities of already stretched health budgets across the EU and also the reality that, for all its profitability, the US market has limits. And it very publicly puts a metaphorical gun to the head of the European Commission in the middle of negotiations with industry on forthcoming legislation governing pricing and patent protection in the sector. The 'bend the knee' approach favoured by the current US administration has very quickly shown up the true colours of many business leaders and their companies. But the 'America first' protectionist approach favoured by the current administration in Washington will pass. And when it does Big Pharma will still need access to markets outside the United States. It may find that memories linger longer than they had hoped.
