Thanks to friend and blogger Loafing Cactus for the discovery of this book, something I would not pick up on my own, and missed completely when it came out in 1998, though it is still today in low triple digits on the Amazon.com sales list.
The 48 Laws of Power celebrates the idea that power is good for its own sake. It doesn't worry about hair-splitting questions such as what are you trying to get out of your life, is there a higher meaning to our existence, or does love conquer all. It assumes that its readers "want power, watch power, and want to arm themselves against power."
Here you can learn how to create a cultlike following (#27), how to crush your enemies utterly (#15), how to blame others for your own mistakes (#26)-- in short, 48 ways to be a jerk.
For those of us who don't see life as a power grab, it is a face-slap of a perspective. My eyes were opened-- wide.
I am not as interested, however, in the practical application of the book, as in its masterful demonstration that stories are powerful. The book is set up as a series of propositions, all of which are supported by an appeal to precedent-- making it a kind of casebook of power.
Many of the stories in the book I had never read before or imagined were possible-- including a 1920's story about a certain J. Frank Norfleet, a rancher who, upon being swindled by con men out of a huge amount of money, spent the next five years hunting them down.
Or the numerous examples from medieval and early modern European history, reminiscent of Machiavelli's preoccupation with the Florentine power-broker Cesare Borgia. There are also stories from China, India, Japan, and plenty of other places, along with ancient stories from authors such as Herodotus, the Greek historian and champion storyteller.
And the story about terrorism in Czarist Russia is eerily relevant to today's war on terror.
But I keep coming back to the costs of power, which author Robert Greene lowballs with this enticing formulation:
It is a game. You opponent sits opposite you. Both of you behave as gentlemen or ladies, observing the rules of the game and taking nothing personally. You play with a strategy and you observe your opponents' moves with as much calmness as you can muster. In the end, you will appreciate the politeness of those you are playing with more than their good and sweet intentions.
I think his book could have been better with the following tale. It is salutary.
In the Latin textbook that I use, there is the story of the Sword of Damocles . In the story, retold by the statesman and orator Cicero, the tyrant Dionysius of Sicily (birthplace of the mafia) teaches a lesson to one of his yes-men, Damocles.
Damocles had said that no one was happier or more blessed than Dionysius, owing to the tyrant's riches, lands, and armies. Dionysius said, "Do you want to know what it's like to be me, Damocles?"
Damocles assented, and Dionysius ordered Damocles to recline on a golden bed, surrounded by precious possessions. Then he ordered slaves to bring in a sumptuous dinner.
And the cherry on top? A sword was suspended above Damocles' neck, ready to slice through it. The only thing holding back the sword was a horsehair.
Damocles begged to be let off from being such a "happy" person.
Cicero was a good Stoic, and his philosophy was to do the right thing for one's country and family, regardless of the personal cost. So it makes sense that he would tell a story about how a tyrant is happy only so long as someone else has not succeeded in cutting his throat.
If you decide to do anything in the book, prepare to be clobbered by folk who are cleverer and more powerful than you-- though it is absolutely true that Cicero knew his share about power, and tried to use that knowledge to further his own interests. But Cicero ended up with his head and his hands liberated from his body and placed on the speaker's platform in the forum of Rome.
As for me, rest easy. I will not go out for world domination. You can count on that.
Unless I am lying.
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