The Overseer (77 page)

Overarching control is thus vital if the economist is to use the institutions of trade and commerce in the service of the other two realms. Equally important, as enterprises come under the command of the Prefect, so the state as a whole will become like a single trader, with the full force of the state’s economic power behind it during negotiations with others. The state will then find expansion an easy task. In time, the economist may delegate control of the realm to smaller traders, manufacturers, and the like. But should he desire fuller control in the future, he need only raise the specter of corruption by the outcast sect in order once again to restore control to his own hands. Thus will expansion and stability reflect well the natural ebb and flow of commerce and trade.

In short, to build from chaos requires ample control within each of the realms. To eliminate enemies and foster a pointed hatred is to control the political realm; to remove all competition within the state so as to dominate competition with those in other states is to control the economic realm; and to cultivate aggression and righteousness through education is to control the social realm. Expansion will be the natural outgrowth of such control and will ensure long-lasting stability.

 

I would do no disservice to the enterprise of this small book were I now to conclude, well satisfied that I have offered both in ideas and in practice the means to secure a stable state. Yet there remain two topics that demand more ink. The first is the military, to which Messer Niccolò devotes almost half of his small tract. Whether he is condemning the use of mercenaries or extolling the virtù of one of his many heroes, Messer Niccolò describes statecraft in terms of military preparedness and cunning. Indeed, he claims that states need only have good arms and good laws to achieve stability. And this may be true. He offers myriad examples of the proper and ill-use of military men in securing boundaries, establishing empires, and so forth. He therefore insists that the art of war (and thus the control of the military) rests firmly in the hands of the prince.

Yet Messer Niccolò seems strangely unaware that without so appealing and cunning a figure to lead them, armies tend to become roving bands of cutthroats and drunkards who would as soon defile the daughter of an ally as that of an enemy. He seems equally reluctant to admit that soldiers are averse to good sense and are more inclined to follow the vainglorious than the shrewd. This last is what makes them dangerous. For there need be only one man within their ranks who displays a capacity to lead, and they will feed his ambition until there is nothing but rubble on which to stand. And worse, let there be two such men, and the state must suffer the slow death of civil war. In short, military men are no different from other men, save that they wield deadly weapons and threaten all with their pride and vanity.

A word of advice, then. Beware of soldiers. Use them only as tools, because they have neither the wit nor the endurance for the building of states. If they once believe that they have the power, little will keep them from destroying the state. The army must, therefore, be like a handmaiden to those who control the realms. Do not be afraid to destroy those within it who begin to amass too great a following or who show any signs of ambition.

 

Our final topic is the second part of Messer Niccolò’s precept for stability: the law. I save it till the last because I do not believe it contributes to the welfare of states as much as those who have come before me claim. For the most part, they conclude that the law protects the people and enlarges freedom. But freedom is a dangerous weapon in the hands of a people. The mob cannot distinguish between license and liberty, more often than not taking freedom to be the first, and, in so doing, dragging the state into anarchy. For that reason, the law must work to limit freedom. Accepting this as the law’s purpose will prove no difficulty once educational institutions begin to produce young men who share the Overseer’s vision and who consider a passion for stability more inspiring than some hollow desire for liberty or the like. But in the early stages of the new state, the aim of law will not be joined so easily to the character of men. The difficulty will arise because the people, as they have been taught, will believe that stability derives from law. This is a false belief the new state must quickly correct.

Law is a reflection of men’s wills. Nothing more. There is no supreme precept in this world that determines the rights or wrongs of any act. Punishment alone establishes the justice of all actions. Thus both law and penalty are arbitrary, because they are created to suit political, economic, and social expediency. Laws are no more trustworthy than the men who create them, and stability can never rest on human caprice.

But do not take the laws from the people. The laws are like a well-worn blanket in which the people wrap themselves. Grant them their childish sanctuary; speak highly of laws, enact new ones from time to time, repeal the old, and always let the people believe that they have the laws to thank for the state’s well-being. Furthermore, it is best to keep the laws simple. What to do; what not to do. What punishment; what reward. Let the people see that without the laws, they themselves would be forced to order the state, set limitations on actions, control those around them. They will gladly leave responsibility with the law so as to keep their lives as simple as possible. And in granting the laws authority, the mob yields all power to the Overseer and Prefects. Men seek to avoid complexity whenever possible. Let the law cater to that desire.  

This last is a lesson that extends beyond the law. In all things, a state should look to simplify, and, in so doing, to make men more docile. As things become less complex, so, too, will men. Imagination, always a danger to a state, will cease to provoke. Let men become dull with passion (a passion conceived and promoted by the Overseer and the Prefects), and they will lose all desire to challenge authority. In education, teach men to be simple; clog their thoughts with rudiments (hatred is the most diverting) so that they will cease to develop their own ideas. Once leaders drive invention and ingenuity from men’s hearts and minds, the people can pose no threat to stability.  

 

Thus far, I have made every effort to avoid the fanciful advice offered by those who have written before me. Nowhere have I explained how states ought to direct themselves, nor how men ought to act. I have chosen the more honest, if bleaker, path so that my words may be of some use to men who seek supremacy in a real world, and not in some land of fantasy. Why, then, do I now claim that I can describe the ideal form of government? Such things are not for men with practical goals.

The reason is simple. For those who still question the usefulness of the three realms, who cannot see why chaos is essential in creating stable government, and who deny the need to expand through aggression and machination, my conclusions will seem unattainable. Truly, the government of which I speak is only possible if all three realms work together in perfect harmony. Then and only then will true supremacy produce a government that on the surface appears to cater to the caprices of men’s desires without giving up any of its authority. Republic, tyranny, democracy—these names are meaningless save for the comfort they offer the hearts and minds of men.

I also use the word ideal for another reason. Nowhere in these pages do I describe how a particular state may put these words into practice. Nowhere do I recommend the period of tutelage under which each Prefect will develop his skills. Nowhere do I name the exact area in commerce, or the exact political failure that will send the old regime into ruin. And nowhere do I describe the course of study to be taught in the schools. The words hatred, expansion, aggression, and
machination 
have provided the only detail. But why? Because circumstances must dictate the policies chosen, because each state requires a different target of hatred, because the most susceptible areas within commerce and trade vary among states, because expansion sets its own direction, and because power follows its own whims.

It is an ideal because no one, including myself, can foresee the demands of the future within the three realms. But take note. I do not call it an ideal because it cannot be won. What I have written can lead men and states to stability. Whether those men have the skill and courage to read the circumstances of their times and act accordingly is all that stands now between ideal and reality.

Yet I wonder now whether the time has arrived to create a new state, and whether a few men might attempt to launch so magnificent a change. It is too true that fear has infested activism, indulgence has replaced direction, and empathy has diluted everything. And still I most assuredly answer yes. Never before has so much conspired to offer so propitious a setting and so great an impetus for a change in the wielding of power. In the very presence of this Luther indicates how easily men may be led to abandon all that is dear to them in the name of some unknown and untried authority. Use this renegade German, most holy of Fathers, as a symbol of corruption; show him as the canker that will destroy all of Europe; destroy him and his followers and, in so doing, set power free so that it may explore and conquer as it wills.

The destruction of this Luther, though, must come only as the culmination of the endeavor, the final moment before chaos may come to the light. Let other, smaller instances of destruction pave the way so that his death will sound the clarion cry for all those ready to step beyond the corrupted world he has inspired. Let the chaos build, event to event, until they rise together and strike fear and uncertainty into the people’s hearts. One tiny eruption matters for naught. One on top of another, on top of another—that is something of true worth; that is something that, over a period of several months, will be sure to bring chaos. Remember, too, dear Father, these tremors need not be of real moment. Their genuine effect is of little consequence so long as their perceived threat is vast.

I cannot claim with certainty that my scheme is infallible, but the short schedule I offer below is one such way to bring about the chaos that is so vital to the capture of true supremacy. I ask only that you read it, and hope that it may inspire you to your greatest exploits.