Ada Palmer – Machiavelli is the most misunderstood thinker of all time

Ada Palmer frames Machiavelli’s The Prince against two structural forces: the fracturing of Italian city-state politics and the unique instability introduced by a powerful, elective papacy. In her account on the Dwarkesh Podcast she emphasizes that many Italian cities had recently had their governments uprooted, creating a political environment in which multiple rapid regime changes became the norm rather than the exception. She pairs that with the papacy’s increasing temporal power — popes using military force, installing relatives in cities, and being unpredictable because new popes were elected roughly every ten years — so that any local order could be overturned by papal politics. Palmer argues this “perfect storm” explains Machiavelli’s urgency in seeking a stabilizing power and why he dedicated The Prince to a Medici who might consolidate influence near Rome.

Palmer grounds Machiavelli’s theory in his biography and diplomatic work. She repeatedly returns to his time at Cesare Borgia’s court: Machiavelli literally witnessed Cesare’s ruthless practices — for example the infamous banquet massacre at Senigallia — and Palmer says those events explain Machiavelli’s tonal shifts and his praise for Cesare’s methods. Yet she stresses Machiavelli’s subtler points: he did not simply promote amorality; he cared deeply about the means because they determine the stability and lifespan of rule. Machiavelli distinguishes types of power bases (local armies vs. mercenaries; loyalty bought from great powers vs. loyalty cultivated) and evaluates deeds by the probable outcomes that would have followed absent unlucky contingencies. Cesare’s later collapse, Palmer notes, is for Machiavelli an exemplar of fortune upsetting otherwise correct policy (Alexander VI’s and Cesare’s coincident illnesses being decisive).

Palmer expands out from The Prince to explain the social mechanisms Machiavelli was diagnosing. Patronage, she argues, was the glue of Renaissance Italian life: everything from who slept at an inn to the outcome of capital trials depended on networks of family and patronage. She uses concrete examples — Giordano Bruno’s final execution resulted not primarily from doctrine but from losing his protector; Ficino’s esoteric tracts were checked and smoothed by powerful patrons — to show how justice and intellectual life were mediated through patrons. Palmer also traces Machiavelli’s thoughts on religion and civic virtue: Roman religion’s cult of memory encouraged self-sacrifice for the res publica, while Christianity’s inward emphasis changed incentives; Machiavelli is pragmatic about the political utility of religion rather than doctrinal.

Finally, Palmer addresses reception, print culture, and Machiavelli’s legacy. She recounts Machiavelli’s exile and his deliberate decision to remain loyal to Florence, composing The Prince as a private application to power-holders rather than as a mass-market tract. The textual afterlife she sketches is complex: The Prince was first printed (with Medici consent) in 1532 and later made censorial headlines — Palmer says it was placed on the Index 27 years after that printing — and the early Inquisition’s licensing mechanisms produced the first practical forms of monopoly control over texts, a close cousin of proto-copyright. Palmer closes by distinguishing the real Machiavelli — the patriotic exile who wanted to save Florence — from the popular “Machiavellian” caricature (the amoral schemer celebrated by some and vilified by others). In her telling, both images live on because the historical Machiavelli supplied a vivid intellectual character that later cultures could repurpose for their own debates.