The Prince and
Conceptism
“ If you get to learn
something even from the worst of creatures don’t hesitate.”
Chanakya
One of the most famous primers on realpolitik was written by a wannabe
courtier in involuntary retirement. It did not win Niccolo Machiavelli his
summons back to the charmed circle, but his suggestions, written like aphorisms,
in then modern and colloquial Italian rather than the formal Latin, persist in
the popular imagination to this day.
After all, the slim little book called The Prince, in preference to his lengthier explorations, written in
1513, is why “Machiavellian” is a contemporary description of expediency.
Witness this: “Entrepreneurs are simply those
who understand that there is little difference between obstacle and opportunity
and are able to turn both to their advantage.”
Machiavelli had his turn in the sun during the Renaissance,
and the intrigue laden world of the Medicis he was cultivating. There were
other people, in those times, cast in a similar mould, all with their
entreating, persuasive, often elegantly written primers. It was the age of
patronage, and you had to peddle your wares before the mighty.
Notably, amongst the others, there was Balthasar Gracian, a
Jesuit priest, with his slim and witty insights written in the 1600s, his style
and content dubbed an ism before many others emerged. Gracian’s work was called
“conceptism”, epitomised in his “The Art of Worldly Wisdom”, a book of 300
maxims plus commentary.
And then there was Giacomo Casanova, the renowned modernist
lover and chronicler, who wrote himself into posterity in the 1700s, with not a
little to say to the Doges of Venice, but also as it turned out, to the world.
Casanova wrote to capture a world he knew would disappear, like his youth and
vitality, and this, his memoirs, instructs us still.
Here in India, we had dear old Chanakya of course, and he
preceded all in the West by centuries. Chanakya advised Emperor Chandragupta
Maurya, the first King of a united India to rival anything the British or the
Mughals accomplished many centuries later. Chanakya, something of a
Shakesperean Richard the IIIrd; ungainly, ugly, but most acute, predated
Machiavelli by 1,800 years.
But where oh where is the political theorist worth his salt
or semantics nowadays? He or she is not only missing in action here in India,
but across the world stage too. And this at a time when long held civilisation
bolts and moorings, certainly those fashioned after the Industrial Revolution,
are under severe strain.
There is no Adam Smith, Marx and Engels, no Hobbes, or Locke
or Rousseau, not even Harold Laski in today’s world! The Gurus have exited en masse, replaced by a lot of
technology on autopilot without anyone in the Captain’s Seat.
There are no political theorist cum practioners of the
calibre of Genghis Khan or Mao (remember his little red book) or Stalin, or
Deng, or Charles De Gaulle, or Jawaharlal Nehru for that matter. Today’s
mistakes are sins of omission and commission with villains pulling strings from
behind the arras.
The world is ruled by political pygmies, in a sequel to the
decline and fall of the eponymous Roman Empire, but minus Julius, minus
Augustus, Marcus Aurelius, minus all the ones remembered favourably by history.
Unless, that is, one insists on mentioning the failures,
such as Bahadur Shah Zafar, beatified despite his disgrace, his ineffectual and
mortified memory being attached to our own desi
Fleet Street, in an act of municipal flatulence. Or the villains, that strutted
across the stage for brief seasons, gorging on blood and human suffering and
now reduced to caricatures reeking with blame.
All the political
colossuses though, like the legendary one at Rhodes, a lost wonder, have been
erased from the face of the earth. But why, when the challenges the modern
world is facing are grave enough to threaten the extinction the Mayans
predicted, for this very year 2012? Where are the super heroes when you need
them?
Still, we can perhaps take comfort that the end of the world
is far from nigh. But the occurrence of flounder-worthy icebergs and elaborate,
disguising orchestras seems to be proliferating. All it takes, after all, is
one little mistake.
Oddly, there is nothing frenetic about our impending sense
of doom, assuaged as it is with aspirational baubles and a stiff libation or
two. But that may be no more than post modernist sang froid, the gristle and grist stuff of denial.
India, waiting for good times, will, alas, have to wait a
little longer, like a deserving bride without a worthwhile groom in sight. It
takes nothing away from our eligibility except a sneaking fear of wilting on
the vine.
But why is this, with so much intelligence and ability going
a begging here and around the world? Is it because we need pygmies rather than
giants to transform the world into a more equitable and just entity? Could it
be because it is the rule of mediocrity that ultimately nurtures, whereas a
larger presence etiolates and enervates?
Is it time for the State to be tamed by the meek? Did Marx have it right when he predicted the
Capitalist State would “fade” and “crumble”, even as the Communism he spawned
and inspired died a premature death? Will the world collapse under the weight
of its “contradictions”, or its innate debauchery? Or is this much ado about
nothing and just rank, paranoid exaggeration, a dirty nightmare caused by ill
digested information?
How can a Hollande
and Merkel work together without imploding? But in doing so, yoked together
like a bull and a horse, do they benefit the poor, as the riff raff in The Tale of Two Cities, presentimenting La Revolution.
Is it time for all of Europe to collect free wine from a
spilt barrel? Sans culottes is not sans sense after all, and a dirge
composer can also fashion a waltz. When dawn comes, it will clear the heads and
eyes of both victor and vanquished, and all those queuing up on either side of
the tug of war, for the churning.
It is ironic and anachronistic to have a Finance Minister
from the Indira Gandhi era that is too indispensable to be trusted is it not?
And the wonder of it is that the polity we live in thinks nothing of it.
The power of mediocrity is that it can readily and
invariably put intelligence to shame. But as Balthasar Gracian put it long ago: “Always leave something to wish for; otherwise
you will be miserable from your very happiness.” Gracian had a way with words, but we should be so lucky.
(1,102 words)
29th May 2012
Gautam Mukherjee
Published on 31st May 2012 as Leader on the Edit Page entitled "Rule of the mediocre" and online at www.dailypioneer.com
Published on 31st May 2012 as Leader on the Edit Page entitled "Rule of the mediocre" and online at www.dailypioneer.com