The Ways of the Worldviews (Part 38): Niccolo Machiavelli, and the Subversive-Secular Revolution (aka Luther’s Evil Twin)

Even though the waves of reform in the 11^th and 12^th centuries had swept much of the corruption out of the Catholic Church, by the 1400’s the Catholic Church had once again been steeped in corruption at the hands of highly political and degenerate popes, not to mention the Borgia and Medici families who gained a stranglehold on the papal throne. The melding of political and religious power led to inevitable corruption in the Catholic Church, which in turn led to inevitable changes, often in the revolutionary vein.

As will soon be discussed, the Protestant Revolution (aka The Reformation) was sparked by the very corruption in the Catholic Church just mentioned. Equally as important, though, was the Secular Revolution that happened at the very same time, and that often intermingled with the Protestant Revolution throughout the centuries that followed. Before we get into how these two movements often intermingled to the point of being indistinguishable from time to time, we must first look at the “founding fathers” of this Secular Revolution. If the Protestant Revolution hearkens back to Luther, Calvin, Zwingli, and Henry VIII, the Secular Revolution hearkens back to Machiavelli (1469-1527), Hobbes, Spinoza…and yes, Henry VIII (oh the irony!). Today, let’s get introduced to Machiavelli and Henry VIII.

Niccolo Machiavelli: The Prince of Darkness?
Most people do not know that a mere four years before Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of Wittenberg Cathedral in 1517, another equally influential document was published in 1513: Niccolo Machiavelli’s The Prince. These two documents proceeded to shape the entire 16^th century Europe and beyond. As we will see, when put into the hands of the various political rulers of 16^th century Europe, Luther’s Protestant publications (of which his 95 theses stands as representative) and Machiavelli’s The Prince, were often used in tandem for the sole purpose of gaining political power within the rise of the nation-state.

Niccolo Machiavelli was no Christian. He didn’t believe in God, the after-life, or any real ethical sense of good and evil, or right and wrong. Because of that, he certainly did not think that any king, prince, or ruler should have to adhere to the moral pronouncements of the Church. The Church claimed to be representative of the Kingdom of God on earth, but since Machiavelli didn’t believe that any God or any “spiritual Kingdom of God” existed, his advice to rulers was simple: “Don’t let your morality be dictated by the Church acting as the mouthpiece for something that doesn’t exist. Make your own morality, and let that standard be whatever strengthens your political power—THAT is what is ‘good.’”

Or, to put it in Machiavelli’s own words: “A ruler…must free his estate, his state, his personal rule, from the church and its morality.” And why must he do so? Because in order to maintain his “estate,” a ruler will often have to act “against faith, against charity, against humanity, against religion.” The chief aim for a ruler is to do what is “good” for him in this world, with no regards as to the next. After all, there isn’t a “next world” anyway! And so, even if the Church declares certain things “evil,” deserving the torments of hell, Machiavelli said that such moral restrictions are meaningless, because in reality there isn’t a heaven or hell. For him, “reality” was nothing other than the material, natural world. Therefore, any “invisible chains of a morality linked to some supernatural destiny” should have no authority over a worldly ruler, for they are as imaginary as the supposed heavenly world they come from.

Needless to say, Machiavelli did not think much of Christianity. Given the corrupt state of the Catholic Church under the Medici, one can understand why. The pope had become just as rich and powerful, if not more so, than kings and princes. How did he achieve that? By telling those kings, princes, and everyone for that matter, that God wanted them to submit to the Church’s authority. If they didn’t, they would suffer hell, but if they did, they would be rewarded in heaven. For Machiavelli, the Catholic Church taught men to be submissive weaklings in order to manipulate them for its own worldly power. So why should anyone let people who claim illusionary authority from an illusionary kingdom have access to such power and authority? If anyone was going to do that, it should be actual rulers of actual kingdoms in the material world!

In the real world, Machiavelli surmised, rulers need to use power without the restrictions of morality. That was the problem with Christianity: it told rulers they had to act morally. As Benjamin Wiker states in his book, Worshipping the State, “Machiavelli’s complaint against Christianity was not that it led to wars, but that it led men away from them. Christianity made men effeminate and cheek-turners, monks pining for a heavenly city rather than bold warrior kings, princes, and citizens willing to fight for their earthly city” (116).

“No,” said Machiavelli, “rulers should hearken back to be like the pagan rulers of pre-Christian times!” They should be strong, ruthless, and develop the manliness of spirit that characterized men like, let’s say, Leonidas, Alexander the Great, or Augustus Caesar. For Machiavelli, “virtue” was not “doing good,” or obeying Christ’s command to turn the other cheek. For Machiavelli, “virtue” was more akin to Leonidas shouting out “We are Sparta!” and proceeding to battle to the death, with all the manliness of spirit that one could muster.

But How Should Machiavelli’s Prince Deal with Christianity?
Yet instead of getting rid of Christianity, Machiavelli argued that it could be a useful tool for the prince that would help control the greater population of the ignorant, superstitious masses. After all, a ruler wants his subjects to obey him, and not revolt against him. So therefore, instead of having the Church exercising that religious authority and holding both the ruler and the people morally accountable to Christ and the Kingdom of God, Machiavelli essentially told the rulers, “You have a real kingdom, so you take control of the Church, and you exercise that religious authority, and you hold the people morally accountable to you and your kingdom.” Essentially, lie to the people, and tell them that Christ wants them to obey you! Therefore, Machiavelli encouraged rulers to turn Christianity into just another weapon in their arsenals by which they can bring the people to submission.

By arguing that rulers should subordinate the Church to their own secular power, he was doing two seemingly contradicting things at once. On one hand, he was advocating for the complete destruction of any kind of wall between “Church and State” in the eyes of the masses: the king would be portrayed as God’s ruler. At the same time, though, he was also advocating for the complete separation of “Church” and “State” within the heart of the ruler: the moral teachings and ethical injunctions of the Church didn’t apply to the secular ruler of the State…only his people!

The Secular Politics that Supported Protestantism…and Henry VIII—Wow!
It should not be surprising, therefore, to see that the Protestant Revolution of the 16^th Century coincided with the dissemination of Machiavelli’s teachings. We must realize that the only way Luther was able to successfully break away from the Catholic Church was because he gained the backing of various rulers throughout Germany. Without the political clout of these secular authorities, Luther’s Revolution would have been a failed footnote in history. Indeed, the Magisterial Reformation was precisely that: the secular magistrates and rulers backing and supporting the religious revolutions of Luther and Calvin, in order to gain more power for themselves.

Take, for instance, Henry VIII. He didn’t just support religious revolutionaries—he became one! With Luther’s magisterial revolution gaining steam throughout Europe, Henry VIII decided to do them all one better. After effectively doing away with Cardinal Thomas Wolsey in 1529, Henry turned his ear to a number of political advisors who had imbibed the teachings of Machiavelli. Not surprisingly, a mere five years later, the Act of Supremacy of 1534 declared that the king was “the only Supreme Head on earth of the Church of England, called Anglicana Ecclesia.” Machiavelli has advised rulers to take over the control of the Church, to not let the Church dictate moral standards to them, but instead use that religious moral authority to control the populace.

This is exactly what Henry VIII did. He was king who made himself the head of his own church so that he could divorce his wife (and ultimately divorce another wife, behead two others). After doing so, he immediately turned his attention to all the vast lands own by the Catholic monasteries throughout England, and proceeded to simply confiscate them and make them his own, to dole out to various dukes and earls as he saw fit. Not only that, but five years later, in 1539, when Henry issued the official English translation of the Bible for his realm, “the engraving featured King Henry on his throne, handing down a copy of the Bible to both the archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, and Henry’s chief minister, Thomas Cromwell…” (Wiker, 124).

The case of Henry VIII and the Anglican Church typifies the murkiness we find between Machiavellianism and the Protestant “Reformation.” Should Henry truly be considered a part of the “Protestant Reformation,” or should he be seen more as a sinister and conniving disciple of Machiavelli? For that matter, the same question can be asked of the various magistrates and rulers who supported and funded Luther and Calvin’s movements. Regardless of the sincerity or insincerity of these various rulers of the so-called Protestant Reformation, one cannot help but look at the subsequent events of the 16^th century in a new light.

As Benjamin Wiker states, “We may well wonder whether the bloodiness of these later religious wars, such as the infamous Thirty Years War (1618-1648), was caused by princes and kings using religious differences, using the multitude of churches created by the Reformation, as political tools to advance their own ambitions as builders of nation-states” (119). The fallout of these wars that resulted in the “Peace of Augsburg” of 1555 and the “Peace of Westphalia” of 1648 certainly were fulfillments of Machiavelli’s aim to have the secular ruler exercise authority over the Church and make it a tool to help maintain his power. The Peace of Augsburg declared “cuius region, eius religio”—or “whose realm, his religion.” If a ruler wanted Lutheranism to be the religion of his realm, it was. The Peace of Westphalia extended this principle to Calvinism.

Such was the dark influence of Machiavelli on the Protestant “Reformation.” If we’re honest, Machiavelli’s influence still can be felt today.