Showing posts with label Frederick the Great. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Frederick the Great. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 15, 2024

Benevolent Dictatorship


It seems a growing number of persons in our Great Republic have come to believe it should not be a republic.  They think it may continue to be great, of course, unless they're one of those who believe it isn't great currently, but may be again, once it is no longer a republic.  

Those who think this way apparently favor a form of government more in line with autocracy or dictatorship.  They're certainly not the first to do so.  The belief that there has been or may be such a thing as a benign despot, or benevolent dictator, has a long history in our long, and sad, history.

It's an attractive belief.  We imagine someone holding near absolute or absolute power who would do the thinking for us, act in our interest, for our benefit, dispense what we think is justice, create and maintain prosperity, allow us to do what we think we should be able to do, all without hinderance from opponents or onerous regulations and requirements.  But has there ever been such a ruler, or could there be one?

Pictured above is one person who was considered a benevolent dictator, Lucius Ouinctius Cincinnatus.  He was quite literally a dictator as that was a position one could be appointed to by the Roman Senate.  The Roman dictator had unlimited authority, or imperium, but only for a specified period of time (usually 6 months).  A dictator was appointed in times of emergency.  Cincinnatus held the position twice.  When his term was up, he returned to private life.  In accordance with his legend, he's shown plowing his fields when representatives of the Senate arrive to tell him of his appointment. 

He's a model of the disinterested figure who takes up sole power solely for the benefit of the state and its citizens, and gives it up when his service to the state is done.  George Washington enjoyed being compared with him.

Later dictators weren't necessarily as popularly remembered.  Lucius Cornelius Sulla in particular is remembered as a man who brought his legions into Rome in violation of tradition, during the conflict between him and Gaius Marius, and essentially through force of arms remained dictator as long as he pleased.  During his dictatorship he proscribed all those he considered his enemies and dangerous to the patricians he favored.  He did give up his powers, though, eventually, and lived a comfortable private life until his death.  

Augustus may actually have been something close to a benevolent dictator after he seized supreme power in Rome, but was ruthless in his quest to obtain it.  The later so-called "good" emperors, Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius, may be called benign at least in comparison to other emperors of Rome.

In more recent history, Frederick the Great was thought of as a benevolent despot but I suspect that was because he was something of a philosopher, learned and cultured, in addition to being a great military leader, and such things played very well in the Age of Enlightenment.  Napoleon was believed to be one as well, at least by some, at least for restoring order and glory to France after the chaos of the French Revolution and the Terror.

Subsequent rulers with great power can't reasonably be considered benevolent, however.  Lenin, Stalin, Mao, Hitler and Mussolini aren't considered benign by most, and for good reason.  It seems they were considered to be benevolent for quite some time, however.

A dictator must be considered disinterested to be benign, I think.  In other words, the ruler's goals and conduct mustn't be selfish, or favor friends and relatives, or supporters, primarily if not solely.  Likewise, enemies should be punished based on the extent the state is harmed by them.  Although great or absolute power may be exercised, it must be in the service of the state or its citizens.  Otherwise, a ruler is merely self-serving.

But what one considers a benign dictatorship is subjective, now, entirely.  And calls made for it are, sometimes blatantly, dishonest,  Those seeking power for themselves or others do lip service to justice and impartiality and patriotship, but do so in such an inane manner as to bring their credibility in question.  Just listen, and hear.

Lenin, Stalin, Mao, Hitler and Mussolini considered liberal democracy to be a weak and ineffective form of government, too inclined to consider elements they and those like them thought to be foreign or contemptible.  Those who now dream of an autocracy replacing the democratic type of government here think much the same, judging from their comments.  They imagine absolute power applied in their favor and against others.  There's nothing benign about an autocracy which is intolerant and exclusive.  

If there is such a things as a benevolent dictatorship, that's not what's being sought or desired, here and now, and no amount of fear-mongering or misrepresentation can hide that fact.  What's being sought is a government by certain people, for certain people and of certain people.

Monday, August 17, 2020

The Sad End of Napoleon Bonaparte


It's arguable that Napoleon Bonaparte was the most able person who ever lived.  

All know he was a military genius.  But I refer to his ability generally; of what it was about him that distinguished him from others in terms of talents, not merely what made him a great general.

By all accounts, his memory was vast.  He could recognize people he had met years previously and recall the circumstances of their meeting in detail. I'm not sure whether he had what's called  "photographic memory" but what he read in reports and correspondence he didn't forget, sometimes much to the chagrin of those that prepared or were mentioned in the reports.

He could focus on matters which were presented to him for decision intensely, and without being distracted by anything else.  He compared his mind to a cupboard:  "Different subjects and different affairs are arranged in my head as in a cupboard.  When I wish to interrupt one train of thought, I shut that drawer and open another.  Do I wish to sleep?  I simply shut all the drawers and there I am--asleep." This intensity of directed thought to a problem must have been of great advantage to him.

He could also, however, manage while doing one thing, regardless of its significance and complexity, to address other things, sometimes minutia.  It seems that micromanagement for him was not a liability, but something easily achieved, and that he excelled at it.  He had enormous energy, and worked extremely hard.  He would dictate on different matters to several writers at the same time.  Those who worked with him found themselves exhausted when he was still eager to continue.  What he could accomplish and the speed in which he accomplished it amazed people.  He apparently slept for no more than 4 hours a day.  While dressing after sleeping he would sometimes tear his own clothing in his impatience to go about his day.

It was apparently this eruption of nervous energy which led him to indulge in long, hot baths--the only thing known to relax him.

He could also charm just about anyone.  He inspired real devotion in his soldiers and in others.  

He had all the qualities which could, and did in most cases, make him a superb chief executive of a nation and military commander.  He was remarkable.  B.H. Liddell-Hart, in his book Strategy, wrote that he thought generals like Napoleon and Frederick the Great had the advantage over other great captains because they were also chiefs of state.  What he overlooked, I think, is that at least in the case of Napoleon he was always highly involved in affairs of state, not just on the battles, even when on the battlefield or in his campaigns.  Running a state and leading an army at the same time would, to me, be more challenging than leading an army.

He died when 51 years old, exiled to the island of St. Helena in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, months travel from anywhere else on the Earth.  He lived there for 6 years, closely watched and guarded in isolation.  

It would have been a dreary exile for someone who had so much energy, let alone someone who had ruled Europe for years.  It seems that for a time he was as active as he could be on St. Helena, riding and walking about the island, preparing his memoirs.  He visited and had visitors.  Then, especially after Sir Hudson Lowe arrived at the island to take on the duties of governor, he gradually stopped doing most anything at all.  Sometimes the old energy would return, and he would take on the role of master gardener or landscape artist, laying the foundation for the lovely gardens which still grace the area around Longwood House.  But for the most part, his life became grim and boring, always seeing and interacting with the same small set of people, cooped up in a damp house on a damp, windy plain.  He spent more and more time in his small bedroom on one of the two camp beds that he brought with him to the island.

The English seemed to have chosen for him a place and style of exile which was the most painful available for someone of his characteristics.  They clearly had enough of him, as had all of Europe, and his escape from prior exile on the island of Elba no doubt made them wary of putting him anywhere close to that continent.  But the place, together with the petty and seemingly meaningless restrictions placed on him when escape was nearly inconceivable strikes one as cruel, or perhaps mere reckless indifference combined with spite.

A cruel end for such a man.  He nonetheless managed in combination with those exiled with him to create a glorious legend which survives to this day; the new Prometheus.  He was right to say that his jailors would be known to history only because of their treatment of him.  Was that his greatest achievement?

I can't help but wonder if it would have been possible for him to be more the First Consul, recreating the French nation from the ruins of the Revolution, and less the Emperor.  Then he may have remained a wondrously capable creator rather than a destroyer. But would he have been able to refrain from war?  Was war pushed upon him in some cases at least, and could he have devoted himself to civil pursuits only?  What would he have achieved then?  Was the world deprived of his extraordinary ability by circumstances or did he himself choose to devote them to his own glory?  He was certainly careful of his own glory.  He is compared by some to a condottiere, and to an extent was similar to the leaders of the Medicis, Sforzas and Borgias in their promotion of their families (which he came to regret) but I think he was more "entirely out of Plutarch" as was said of him by Paoli.

It's regrettable that he didn't address these questions while stuck on his rock in the middle of the ocean.