Definitions of Politics
Consider a vertical line. Aristotle is at the top, closest to the Truth (i.e., the Logos or the Word). McCarthy is at the bottom, describing its absence.
Aristotle’s Politics
Since we see every city to be a sort of community, and every community to be formed for the sake of some good (for everyone does every action for the sake of what seems to be good), clearly, then, while every community aims at some good, the community that has the most control of all, encompasses all the others, aims both at the good that good that has the most control of all and does so to the highest degree. And this community is the one called a city, the community that is political (1252a1-6).
Broadly defined, an Aristotelian good is “the thing for which we act.” It is the end to any means. Aristotelian goods are hierarchical. Good A is subordinate to Good B, if it acts Good A means to achieve Good B. For example, pen making is a subordinate good because it is a means for writing, and writing is a subordinate good to communication, and so on.
Aristotle believes the ultimate good is happiness, or eudaimonia, which translates to “living well” or “human flourishing.” And so, in the case of the city, the best city is the one that leads most directly to human flourishing. Similarly, one could imagine the good society as described by Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin. They were fond of saying, “A good society is one that makes it easy to be good.”
Aristotle then makes the point that human flourishing requires other people; one cannot flourish in isolation. He then describes the natural emergence of the family and then small village, and so on.
The community, coming from several villages, when it is complete, is the city, once it has already reached (one might almost say) the limit of total self-sufficiency. It comes to be for the sake of living, but it exists for the sake of living well. That is why every city exists by nature, since the first communities also do. For this one is their end, and nature is an end. For what each thing is when its coming to be has been completed, this we say is the nature of each – for example, of a human, of a horse, or of a household. Further, it is for-the-sake-of-which – namely, its end – is best, and self-sufficiency is both end and best.
From these considerations, then it is evident that a city is among the things that exist by nature, that a human is by nature a political animal, and that anyone who is without a city, not by luck but by nature, is either a wretch or else better than a human. (1252b27 - 1253a5).
Again, “these considerations” are those which claim the natural end of humanity is human flourishing, and that human flourishing cannot occur in isolation and thereby requires some sort of community. It is this line of reason which makes humanity a political animal. Still, Aristotle continues.
It is also clear why a human is more of a political animal than any bee or gregarious animal. For nature does nothing pointlessly, as we say, and a human being alone among the animals has speech. Now, the voice is a signifier of what is pleasant and painful, which is why it is also possessed by other animals (for their nature does extend this far, namely, to having the perception of pleasure and pain signifying them to each other). But speech is for making clear what is advantageous or harmful, and so too what is just or unjust. For this is special to humans, in comparison to other animals, that they alone have perception of the good and the bad, the just and the unjust, and the rest. And it is community in these that makes a household or a city (1253a8-19).
So, not only do we require community to achieve our highest potential, we can see that this is unique to humanity due to our capacity to commun-icate. We can use our speech to signify to others the good, and thereby share in the possibility of living well together.
The societal decline described here begins with forgetting that (1) higher and higher goods can be achieved and (2) these goods should be pursued in communion with others. It is a forgetting of true peace and true joy (i.e., eudamonia). True peace is the peace of God—a gift, not earned or taken, felt internally rather than merely observed as the absence of violence. True joy is felt in the absence of contraction that allows God to flow through one’s whole being. Community is lost in forgetting the St. Francis prayer. I.e., in forgetting that when one gives he also receives; i.e., the giver and the recipient flourish simultaneously. This prayer, if understood, can cut so deep as to turn the whole of society right-side up.
Max Weber’s Politics as a Vocation; Davidson and Rees-Mogg’s The Sovereign Individual
Max Weber, in his 1919 lecture Politics as a Vocation, defines the state as: "a human community that (successfully) claims the monopoly of the legitimate use of physical force within a given territory." The authors of The Sovereign Individual add to this a definition of politics, which they define as “the preoccupation with controlling and rationalizing the power of the state.“
Together, they define politics as “the preoccupation with controlling and rationalizing the power of the community that claims the monopoly on violence.” This definition is nihilistic in that it rejects all religious and moral principles. It remains neutral, aiming at neither the good nor its opposite.
Machiavelli’s The Prince
Machiavelli argued the Prince should only concern himself with what is rather than what should be. He believed that men, especially in politics, spend too much time dealing with lofty but unattainable ideals. This was the major break Machiavelli made from previous political philosophy, which generally created an ideal and encouraged states to work toward it. He argued that these ideals do more bad than good. Machiavelli wrote, “The gulf between how one should live and how one does live is so wide that a man who neglects what is actually done for what should be done moves towards self-destruction rather than self-preservation” (Ch. 15).
The goal of traditional morality is not to maintain the state. It is, instead, to pursue virtue—be it religious or secular. But, as noted by Aristotle, the good man is different from the good citizen. This difference is especially pronounced for the rulers, as the good man's virtues would lead to their quick death, loss of power, and the resulting instability of the state. Machiavelli wrote, "The fact is that a man who wants to make a profession of good in every way necessarily comes to grief among so many who are not good" (Ch. 15). So, the Prince will not find his virtues in the philosophy of the Greeks or Western religious doctrines. He must look elsewhere.
Machiavelli presents an alternate route: the inversion of traditional virtues and vices. That is, for the Prince, common virtues are often vices, and common vices are often virtues. He wrote, “He must not flinch from being blamed for vices which are necessary for safeguarding the state. This is because, taking everything into account, he will find that some of the things that appear to be virtues will, if he practices them, ruin him, and some of the things that appear to be vices will bring him security and prosperity” (Ch. 15). In this context, Machiavelli provides advice on governance and conquest.
A noteworthy example is found in truthfulness and lying. Machiavelli notes, “Everyone realizes how praiseworthy it is for a prince to honor his word and to be straightforward rather than crafty in his dealing; nonetheless, contemporary experience shows that princes who have achieved great things have been those who have given their world lightly, who have known how to trick men with their cunning, and who, in the end, have overcome those abiding by honest principles” (Ch. 18). Why is this so? NM neglects this question, but it hits directly at the tragedy of politics.
All the while, the Prince must maintain his popularity and the appearance of virtue. This is, of course, quite difficult, and that is why the Prince needs the help of old Niccolo. He wrote, “Because of conditions in the world, princes cannot have those qualities or observe them completely. So a prince has of necessity to be so prudent that he knows how to escape the evil reputation attached to those vices which could lose him the state” (Ch. 15).
NM urgently stressed the importance of a strong military. During his time in power, Florence was consistently under siege, and those in power were always at risk of losing it. He wrote, “The first way to lose your state is to neglect the art of war; the first way to win a state is to be skilled in the art of war” (Ch. 14). Machaivelli stressed that war should always be front and center in the Prince’s mind, saying the prince “must never let his thoughts stray from military exercises, which he must pursue more vigorously in peace than in war” (Ch. 14).
He continued, “A prince, therefore, must have no other object or thought, nor acquire skill in anything, except war, its organization, and its discipline. The art of war is all that is expected of a ruler; it is so useful that besides enabling hereditary princes to maintain their rule it frequently enables ordinary citizens to become rulers” (Ch. 14).
McCarthy’s Blood Meridian
In Blood Meridian, Cormac McCarthy presents a character known as the Judge. He is the embodiment of violence and chaos. He is described as a massive, hairless man with a pale, almost albino complexion, standing nearly seven feet tall. He is a polymath, exhibiting profound knowledge in diverse fields such as paleontology, archaeology, linguistics, law, geology, chemistry, and philosophy. He is exceptionally articulate, persuasive in multiple languages, and possesses remarkable skills in horsemanship, marksmanship, music, and dance. This vast array of talents, coupled with his preternatural reflexes and apparent immunity to aging, suggests he embodies more than mere humanity, he represents either a supernatural entity or a personification of a concept.
The Judge is violent and deviant. He engages in brutal acts, including murder and worse. He often justifies his actions through philosophical discourses on war and human nature. "It makes no difference what men think of war.” He says, “War endures. As well ask men what they think of stone. War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner."
He presents the “might makes right” philosophy is the starkest manner. The “might makes right” proclamation, so to speak, is that whomever is mightier (i.e., whomever can more effectively use force or coercion) is thereby morally right. This is the philosophy that emerges in the total absence of the Truth (i.e., the Logos or the Word). The Judge gives the following example:
"Suppose two men at cards with nothing to wager save their lives. Who has not heard such a tale? A turn of the card. The whole universe for such a player has labored clanking to this moment which will tell if he is to die at that man's hand or that man at his. What more certain validation of a man's worth could there be? This enhancement of the game to its ultimate state admits no argument concerning the notion of fate. The selection of one man over another is a preference absolute and irrevocable and it is a dull man indeed who could reckon so profound a decision without agency or significance either one.
In such games as have for their stake the annihilation of the defeated, the decisions are quite clear. This man holding this particular arrangement of cards in his hand is thereby removed from existence. This is the nature of war, whose stake is at once the game and the authority and the justification. Seen so, war is the truest form of divination. It is the testing of one's will and the will of another within that larger will which because it binds them is therefore forced to select.
War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of the unity of existence. War is god."
In that final statement he flips things on their head. War - the least holy of all acts - now claims the title of the most holy. And the Judge’s will to dominate does not stop at man but extends to all of nature. He remarks at one point, "The freedom of birds is an insult to me. I'd have them all in zoos." McCarthy has thoroughly encapsulated evil in this character.
It is easy to reject this view when primed with the Aristotelian alternative of human flourishing. But we must not forget the charisma of violence and chaos have on much of mankind. This nasty charm pulls humanity back into its orbit. No where have I seen this charisma more exemplified than in the final page of Blood Meridian, which reads as follows:
“And they are dancing, the board floor slamming under the jackboots and the fiddlers grinning hideously over their canted pieces. Towering over them all is the judge and he is naked dancing, his small feet lively and quick and now in doubletime and bowing to the ladies, huge and pale and hairless, like an enormous infant. He never sleeps, he says. He says he’ll never die. He bows to the fiddlers and sashays backwards and throws back his head and laugh deep in his throat, and he is a great favorite, the judge. He wafts his hat and the lunar dome of his skull passes palely under the lamps and swings about and takes possession of one of the fiddles an he pirouettes and makes a pass, two passes, dancing and fiddling at once. His feet are light and nimble. He never sleeps. He says that he will never die. He dances in light and in shadow and he is a great favorite. He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, always dancing. He says he will never die.”
One may recall Yoda’s response to Luke, when asked, “Is the dark side stronger?” “No.” The master responded. But it is “quicker, easier, more seductive.”
Finally, here is an incredible explanation of this dynamic from Dr. Peter Kreeft, a professor of philosophy at Boston College.
