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back A Whole bunch of Political Theorists Speaking in Cliches for Eight and a Half Pages Machiavelli: And so gentlemen, we come to another interesting topic, via a question posed to us by one of the members of our audience: “What is the nature of the individual in government?” That’s from (reads back of card) – ah! Good old James Madison! How you doing, Jamie? James Madison (from audience): Terrible case of writer’s cramp. Aside from that… Machiavelli: What have you been up to lately, Mr. Madison? James Madison: Oh, you know, same ol’, same ol’… cleaning up the filth littering our streets, simplifing – heh heh - streamlining the process of trash collecting, thinking of becoming a rubbish carrier myself… Machiavelli: Really, now?! That would be interesting. I’d love to see a country where nobody had power! Hobbes: Except for the soverign, of course. Machiavelli: Of course, chap! Tommy, can you imagine a country where the soverign didn’t have absolute power? It would be – Rosseau: Glourious! Free! Beautiful! Machiavelli: I don’t know too much about the beautiful… Hobbes: Aw, get off! What kind of country would that be? Rosseau: I just told you: glourious, free, and beautiful… Hobbes: No, it would be weak, instable, and unsafe! Poverty! Anarchy! War! Death! Not a state I’m too eager to support – Rosseau: Ah, well, it can’t just be done like that. I mean, there is a process, of course… Hobbes: Where? In your dreams?! Rosseau: Well, at the moment yes… but eventually… Hobbes: Sure… Rosseau: It could happen. Hobbes: And I suppose – what? – that people would have to die for this to happen? Rosseau: With every great venture comes great risks, this is true – Hobbes: Ha! What is a life worth, Rosseau? Tell me! What is a life worth? Is it worth a futile cause? Is it worth dreams of reform and ideals – ideals, merely, not even concrete things! – of the future? Is it worth the intangibles that we will never possess? What, Rosseau? Is dying worth that? A handful of daydreams and lunacy? If life worth nothing? Rosseau: Without these, life is nothing. Hobbes (shaking head): Our lives are all we have. Rosseau: No, life is an abysmal pit, and these lunatic dreams are what help us climb toward the light. Hobbes: We can never reach the life, not in one lifetime, not in twenty – we have to learn to see in the darkness and that is how we live our lives. That is where we live our lives – not hanging onto a rocky hold in a sheer wall, praying not to fall, every day, every minute, every second buffeted by wind and snow and rain and ice, every heartbeat of our frail body assaulted by the forces we cannot hope to control. No, we live our lives in the pit of the abysses, it the heart of the monster itself, not in an endless, painful, pointless escape – that is insane. No, we stay in the abysses, and learn to live there – maybe we build a grand palace down there, for at least there is rock; maybe we invent fire, for at least there are twigs and stones and flint; maybe we learn to love and feel and touch other humans, for at least there are others here; the abysses you create is the safety, a enveloping, leviathanic womb; escaping it is only the path to nothing. Rosseau: Escaping it is birth. Hobbes: Escaping it is abandoning and being abandoned by the parents into an empty, bleak world; it is not birth, it is death. Machiavelli: So, good sirs, let me hop in for a bit of clarification: Hobbes wants his mommy and Rosseau is living a fanciful life in his head? Yes? Hobbes: Well… Rosseau: I wouldn’t – Machiavelli: I see… Perhaps we shall examine the fundamental nature of human beings, yes? Hobbes: Oh, yes, the primitive savages – Rosseau: Noble savages… Hobbes: That, you git, is an oxymoron. Rosseau: And you, you merde, are a moron. Hobbes (leaping out of chair): You yellowbellied French chicken not even fit for an English peasant’s dinner table – Rosseau: Vous ne nous faites pas peur, cochon d’Anglais! Machiavelli: Calm down, you’re losing tense. Rosseau: (turning to Machiavelli) And you! Jen e peux plus t’entendre, espèce de palefrenier sans cervelle! Madison (from audience): Ha! Pointless factions! Hobbes: You be quiet! Just because you can’t manange your own country… Machiavelli: Ah, dear sirs, please! No unnecessary violence. Reminds me of a certain Italian family from 15th century Florence - Hobbes (sitting back down): Only proved my point about the inherent nature of people… Rosseau: Monseuir Machiavelli, I can’t help it if Monseuir Hobbes is highly tempermental – perhaps he should seek the gentle ministrations of a woman – say, his mother? as he is obviously still infantile and longing for the womb… Hobbes: Just like you long for the womb, you womanizing bastard? How many young mothers have you abandoned? Eh? Rosseau: Hardly relevant, I think, dear Hobbes. Mudslinging will get you nowhere. Machiavelli: Oh, yes. Reputation and gossip are very distant spheres from the political arena, thank goodness. Rosseau: Thank God. Machiavelli: If that’s what you use, certainly. Hobbes: Oh, God. Useful bugger, innit he? Rosseau (sniff): I have no idea what you are babbling on about, Hobbes… Hobbes: Oh, don’t tell me you believe in God?! He’s useful, all right, but you don’t really believe in him, do you?! Rosseau: A higher state guiding our lives? I feel confident in saying it is worth seeking. Hobbes: No, no, no! We made God up! Keep people believing in the kings, y’know. More powerful that way, more secure. Rosseau: Monseuir, I object to you referring to God as a political tool! He is a powerful almighty being, and this is blashphemy and sacrelidge! Hobbes: Who wasn’t accecpted into the priesthood? Rosseau: Better that then be a complete barbarian! Hobbes: Rosseau the Rejected! Rosseau: Hobbes the Heathen! Hobbes: Oh yeah, you bloody washed up Frenchman? Even your own country threw you out, not to mention half the houses in Europe! Madison: Ha! Ha! Warring factions! Rosseau: Tue s le fils d’une femelle hamster et d’un home puant le sureau! Jet e pète à la figure! Machiavelli: Gentlemen, gentlemen! We are all politicians here; I’m sure you appreciate the power of staying cool and dispassionate. For example, recall the calm nature of that great Florentine prince - Hobbes: Oh yeah? Well, make him speak English, not that dirty old French! Rosseau: Just like a child, aren’t you, Hobbes? Hobbes: Aha! Caught you in your own metaphor! You admit that children aren’t sweet and innocent? That our most primitive state is savage and violent, that all we know and want is pure survival? Don’t you? Rosseau: No, just yours. No, my vision – the correct one, by the way – is of harmony and peace and tranquility, a true communion with nature. Hobbes: Ah, so perfection? (sniggers) Rosseau: Certainly not. To be in the state of nature is nice and wonderful, yes, but there are certain things a man wants which he is unable to achieve as a primitive being, things only society and civilization can confer. Naturally, he has to make a few exchanges to achieve these, and so leaves (ha ha!) the state of nature. Hobbes: I see. So, in your opinion, the motivation for civilization is transcendence? Rosseau: Woi. Hobbes: You must have led a very sheltered life, Mr. Rosseau. Go experience a few wars, live in a country with no ruler, get as close as you can to the state of nature – I’ll tell you now, you’re not going to find it in the pastoral, in the woods or the lakes or the beautiful gardens; no, you’ll find it on the battlefields, in the pools of blood - crimson blood shed from your neighbors, shed by your neighbors; in the tired arms that dare not stop the arc of their sword, for they know if they cease, there will be another who will not, and that that is victory; in the frightened children who cannot sleep at night because they know it might kill them – in England, sir, we have true boogeymen roaming the countryside, and these monsters from under the bed take more than children – they take the whole bed, and the hidden colors and heritage beneath it, as well as the rest of the family – and you know what we call the products of our restful nights? Gallows’ fruit. So, go, sir, try to find the state of nature – I’ll tell you now, again: the pure and innocent “childhood” of man only exists in the mind of the hermetic and untouched. Rosseau: Come, now… Hobbes: No. The motivation for civilization is not transcendence, or ideals, or beautiful thoughts – none of that – all man wants is security, rationality – the state is – Rosseau: I refuse to believe that man is so low as that – you merely don’t know better – this is all you know – Machiavelli: May I clarify, sirs? Do you mean civilization or government? Rosseau: Well, I would presume them the same…? Machiavelli: Au contraire, no no no! Civilization is art, civilization is identity, it is the quest for beauty – it is the flourishes and embellishments (bedizened, if you ask me) on the words of man . Government – no, for that is a result of civilization; it is, itself, an excuse, a name and a façade for what is real - power. You men talk of why people join together, why they create illusions – and now I ask you, does that matter? What is at the heart, when you slash through all the fat and bone and sinew? What? Power. That is all that matters – he who has power wins. Rosseau: Are you insinuating that ideas and philosophies mean nothing? Machiavelli: Me? Insinuate? Never. I am blatantly telling you. Madison: Oh ho ho! Reduced it all to nothing, he did! Hobbes: Well, yes. Of course. I’ve been saying that all along! Machiavelli: Have you? Hobbes: Well, yes! I mean, you need an absolute ruler, for how else are the subjects going to be safe? How else are we going to create a country that’s safe – or safer, I suppose, than it currently is. Oh, I believe in the absolute execution of power, believe me. Machiavelli: Yes, but do you believe in it for its own sake? You can’t, I see. You can’t acknowledge it existing without any kind of purpose, can you? For primitive man, maybe, but in “civilized society?” Oh, never. “Civilized” man has purpose, “civilized” man is rational in the end, yes? But maybe he is too rational for you? Too coldly calculating, too eager to possess purely for himself? Your brutal materialism is really just another grand paradigm that excuses you from the queasy discomfort the true blank void (I call it reality, your choice really) creates – yes? Hobbes: It’s true that man is brutal, but that’s what government is for – to protect us from that brutality – Machiavelli: No, government is here to facilitate the exercising of it. Hobbes: It can’t be so straightforward. Rosseau: So simplistic… and primitive… humans are higher than that. We can transcend the petty emotions and desires - Machiavelli: Once upon a time, man knew power, and obeyed because of fear and reward – Hobbes: My state of nature – Machiavelli: Your state of nature, yes. But then man woke up, realized that there was more to life than fear and loathing, and ever since then he has been creating dreams to hide the sad truth of how, despite all of our deep thoughts and art and potential, governed by our sleep we really are. What are dreams but sweetening to our sleep, to make us content with the hours of Nyx’s blackness and the bitter kiss of Thanatos? – give us a lover, Morpheus, to occupy us while Hypnos has his way. Remember the words of that great Roman emperor - Rosseau: How vulgar, to compare politics to – Machiavelli: But that is just what it is. Siezing power. Dominance. Lies. Like love? Yes. I think very much like love. Rosseau: (condencending) Oh, love… amor… Machiavelli: Yes, how splendid. Kind of like God, no? Rosseau: Certainly not! Machiavelli: Hmm… Love to justify the act of sex. God to justify the act of domination. I see a very strong relationship. Rosseau: I think I could never live with you, Monsieur Machiavelli. Your world is too grim. Machiavelli: My world is honest. It lays bare the underpinnings and true sources of our pathetic, yet oddly noble, attempts to become “something great.” You want to be greater, and I know it to be impossible. My world would crush you; you could never live there. Besides, nobody asked you to. Move in with Sir Hobbes, here. You are both so boring and the same. Madison: Ha! Good one, Nicky! Machiavelli: And take Madison with you as well. (Enter Marx and Weber, staggering and leaning on each other.) Marx: Damn the cap-i-taall-al-ists! Machiavelli: How did you two get in here? I thought I stationed guards. Lots of them. With sharp, pointy knives… Marx: Damn them to cap-i-tal-al-al-ist hell! Rosseau: (to Machiavelli) For protection, I assume? Machiavelli (smiling): Of course, monseuir. Hobbes (under his breath): For whom is the question… Marx: Ah, guards. Merely exploited prols! I merely enlightened them to the pity and exploited state of their condition… Machiavelli: You bribed then, didn’t you? Weber: Hab’ ich einen Durst, Durst, Durst, Mir ist alles Wurst, Wurst, Wurst. Ob Bier oder Wein, Wein, Wein, Nur feucht muß es sein. Machiavelli: Very nice, Herr Weber – care to enlighten us to the – ah – motivations behind that rousing display? Weber: I… am thinking not about the result of my actions… I…am thinking about the reasons I do them… I am thinking about the power and splendor of the song…I…am not thinking about you listening to it… I am…thinking I love music… Madison: I…am… thinking he is drunk. Weber: Ah…yes… Mein Bierkrug ist leer, leer, leer, Bring endlich was her, her, her, Kommt nicht bald was nach, nach, nach, Dann mache ich Krach. Marx: But (hic) we had a reason for it… Machiavelli: (fingers massaging temples) Let me guess: capitalism? Marx: Are you a proletariat, good sir? Oh, (hic) then you know the evils as well! How are you sober? Machiavelli: I have no idea. Marx: (wave arm) Well, of course (hic) not! They’ve been robbed from – robbed from you! You are a machine, that’s what you have been reduced to! Machiavelli: How unfortunate. Marx: But (leaning in close to Machiavelli) – but you know, don’t you? That this is wrong, too? The drink – it (hic) is only another ideaology… it is only a-another heavy layer smoothing the sharp spikes of history… of reality… sharp spikes of society (that one sounds good)… sharp spikes… Mchiavelli: Someone impale me. Please. Marx: Well, that’s capatialism, see… It makes you see all the spikes, and… Madison: Yeah? Well then what, huh? Marx: Well, we first kill all the lawyers…and…oh look, a nice wall…(sliding to the ground… snores emerge from his general direction)… Weber: Mein Bierkrug ist leer, leer, leer, Ich kann nichts dafür, für, für - Nietzche (entering): Honey! I’m home! Machiavelli (distressed): My guards! The sharp pointy knives! Hobbes: Power? Nietzche: If you want. Whatever you want. It’s not really your choice anyways. Hobbes: No? Rosseau: Oh, yes, believe him! Nietzche: If he believes me, I think we’ve both lost. May I suggest a question? Machiavelli: (slumped on a chair, head in hands) Why not? Nietzche: Where do our values come from? Machiavelli (head rises): Power. Desire for power. Nietzche: Maybe…Tradition? What is it really? Rosseau: Oh, look! Now he’s stealing my conventions idea! (stamping foot, arms crossed) I made up the idea of the chains! Mine! Nietzche: Uh…yes… Hobbes: So, it all means nothing. Nietzche: If you are blind. If you can see? Well… (shrugs) Rosseau (leaping from seat, finger thrust into air): Aha! Nous vous avons encore devancés! (everyone stares) (silence) Nietzche: So, as I was saying… Once you know where you came from, you know who you are, yes? Once you know who your parents are, you understand why your head looks like a small elephant sat on it when you were a very little child, that slighty squashed ovalish shape… Hobbes: (feeling head) Nietzche: So, free thought… Hobbes: We can all awaken! We can change the world! Nietzche: …Ah…no… The world is too powerful for that. Hobbes: Ah, the nasty little demon that is man – Nietzche: No, the poor little match girl; all she has are matches – of course she can’t keep warm with those. Hobbes: Oh. Rosseau: But in a world with democracy and consensus and continual self-recreation! Machiavelli: Oh, you’re still here. Hobbes: Get out. Democracy is impossible. Power is too spread out. No control. We’d need a much more ordered state. Machiavelli: Yes, inefficient. Chaotic. Sad. We’d need more streamlining. Rosseau: No! It would be the perfect order! We would transcend man’s current state and we would become free and life would fall into place! Nietzche: (yawn) What if there really was no order, just all of our pathetic strivings toward it? Hobbes: Ah… Rosseau: Umm…I – Machiavelli: (laughing maniacally) Weber: Tragic, it’s all so tragic! (hiccup) Marx: (passed out in corner) Nietzche: Are we done playing yet? I’m bored with you all. Machiavelli (grumbling): Nobody invited you over in the first place… Nietzche: I must admit, I never was good at sharing… Now, let’s end this. I’ll say something witty and utterly painful and depressing, and then we’ll wait fifty years and see how many Hallmark cards it makes it to… Machiavelli: If it doesn't kill you... Nietzche: My line… Machiavelli: Well, I believe I’m taking it for my own. Marx: zzzzzzzzz – Huh! What?! Taking over the home? No, you have to understand that capitalism has done this to the working class family – zzzzzzzzzz…. Weber: Hab’ ich einen Durst, Durst, Durst, Mir ist alles Wurst, Wurst, Wurst. Ob Bier oder Wein, Wein, Wein, Nur feucht muß es sein. -fin- back |