Two things I read recently help explain each other: Fr. Servais Pinckaers’ wonderful book, Sources of Christian Ethics, and Machiavelli’s despicable play, Mandragola.
In Mandragola, the wicked Priest Father Timoteo is paid a bribe to persuade a woman to commit adultery. He tells her:
As to the conscience, you have to take this general principle: that where there is a certain good and an uncertain evil, one should never leave that good for fear of that evil.
That is horrible moral advice- but what is remarkable is that the sophistry Machiavelli invents for his character Timoteo in 1518 precisely anticipates the moral theology some Catholic theologians would espouse in the 1600s. Pinckaers in Sources of Christian Ethics writes on p275:
The first to express the idea that originated probabilism was a Spanish Dominica, Bartholomew of Medina, who in 1580 wrote: “It seems to me that if an opinion is probable, it is lawful to follow it, even if the opposite opinion is more probable”
Take the opinion: be fruitful and multiply. That is the probable good Timoteo gestures toward as a certain good, outweighing the opinion that she should not commit adultery. It was not until St. Alphonsus Liguouri in the 1700s that this confusion about probable reasons was resolved; only considered, justified reasons had any weight. Therefore Timoteo was wrong to claim a more “certain” good could justify the violation of the 6th commandment.
Earlier in Mandragola, Timoteo accepted a bribe to justify another abominable act- abortion. The excuse he offers for such sin is as follows:
Keep in mind, many goods will result from [the abortion]… and on the other side, you don’t offend anything but a piece of unborn flesh, without sense, which could be dispersed in a thousand ways; and I believe that good is that which does good to the most, and that by which the most are contented.
The moral justification Timoteo offers for the intentional murder of an unborn child is utilitiarian- or as it would be called in 1960s moral theology: proportionalism. Consequentialism sides with the greatest good for the greatest number, whatever results in the least pain. Proportionalism disagreed with the traditional natural law view that to intentionally take an innocent human life is an intrinsically evil action; the circumstances of the act, and better results for the overall state of affairs outweigh the evil they said (see page 430 of Sources of Christian Ethics and Chris Kaczor’s Proportionalism and the Natural Law Tradition).
John Paul II would decisively reject proportionalism in his Encyclical Veritatis Splendor as a heresy, but what is remarkable once again is that Machiavelli anticipated this sophistry in Catholic moral doctrine by 400 years. In general, Pinckaers attributes such post-Vatican II casuistry to “Freedom of Indifference” and the voluntarism of Ockham- a rejection of reason and the “Freedom for Excellence” found in Aquinas and earlier Christian theologians and Greek philosophy.
It goes to show that post-Ockham the heresies of Christian moral theology were always there for brilliant sophists like Machiavelli to pick up- but also that there are philosophical answers to Machiavelli. In the end of the play Mandragola, the woman gives in to the adultery scheme and abandons her Christian moral compass- telling her seducer “I take you for lord, master, and guide; you are my father and defender, and I want you to be my every good.” This is probably Machiavelli’s own sick fantasy- to have a woman adore him like a god, even though he treats women like dirt. The speech is totally unrealistic in the context of the play I think- it would only prove that the woman was not as good as she was purported to be. Mandragola shows the limit of Machiavellianism- at the end of the day these expressions of “love” are pathetic- not comedic at all.
Well, I didn't know about Louise Cowan, who's discussed in the piece linked to at the end. Grateful to learn about her work, even though in this particular case, it looks like one of her more politics-attuned and thus Machiavelli-wary students, Mac Owens, was more in the right.
I'm also grateful for your phrases "despicable play" and "brilliant sophists," which cut against the "but-he's-a-Strauss-pronounced-capital-P-Philosopher" fascination with Nick which gets too humored by too many of the Strauss-influenced. "Sick fantasy" may be unjust to him, however...
This is a tricky problem -- as your examples suggest, from the 16th c. to our times, this is the age of Machiavelli. He won, the Church lost, is losing still today. There's something there that those of us who take morality seriously & endeavor to live moral lives need to face. It seems to me that calling his comedy despicable is a failure to face that problem. I would admit that there's a lot of danger in the taste to which it appeals, which is sometimes called "giving the devil his due;" part of that is, one mustn't allow the charms of Machiavelli's wit to encourage one to enjoy the life of crime, either because it flouts the moral authority of priests or because one enjoys the spectacle of getting away with it. But being outsmarted or outfought is no laurel to rest on, either -- & refashioning an alliance between intelligent people & decent people who aren't particularly intelligent requires somehow facing up to Machiavelli's challenge. The strategy that would occur, I think, naturally to the ordinary decent man: Call the clever evil & call ordinary people stupid, as they fail to understand the natural element of natural law or fail to heed the lawful element of it, strikes me as a failed strategy. What now?