Abstract
Since the rediscovery of the ancient Indian political thinker Kautilya and his Arthaśāstra in the early twentieth century, scholars have argued for similarities between his political thinking and Machiavelli’s, especially on the topic of realism. Employing a new analytic approach to reexamine their political thought, I locate unidentified tensions and overlaps between Machiavelli’s secular ethic, which pulls towards autonomous standards, and Kautilya’s political-theological ethic, which follows traditional brahmanical beliefs. In the first part of the essay, I challenge existing interpretations of Kautilya’s thought and clarify a coherent political theology in the Arthaśāstra. The second part critically assesses their realist positions using the concepts of flexibility and legitimacy. While I explain how the Machiavellian position poses justifiable objections to the apparent repression and self-defeating nature of brahmanical realism, I also argue that the Kautilyan position raises important questions concerning both the flexibility and inflexibility of a secular realist position.
In the early twentieth century and perhaps the earliest statement made by an eminent western political thinker regarding the similarity between Machiavelli and the Indian thinker Kautilya, 1 Max Weber insightfully claimed: “A genuinely radical ‘Machiavellianism,’ in the popular sense of the word, received its classical formulation in Indian literature as early as Kautilya’s Arthashastra. . . . Machiavelli’s The Prince is harmless in comparison.” 2 Following Weber, many scholars have called attention to similarities between the political thought of Machiavelli and Kautilya. For Machiavelli scholars, historians of political thought, and comparative political theorists Weber’s evocative comparison to Kautilya remains intriguing, as he suggests Kautilya formulated a “truly radical Machiavellianism” long before Machiavelli composed any work. Weber’s claim further implies that aspects of Machiavelli’s political thought may not be, from a cross-cultural perspective, as original as some political theorists assume. This cross-cultural comparison also elicits the question: contra Machiavelli’s assumptions, could an effective political theology–based realism exist, and could it be more effective than a secular realism? 3 Roger Boesche follows Weber and argues that Machiavelli is, comparatively speaking, a moderate realist on the topic of extralegal violence, further arguing that Kautilya is actually the first great political realist. 4 One might then ask if Kautilya could counter a central Machiavellian claim: perhaps separating a religious highest good from politics is unnecessary when formulating a successful realist approach to politics, and maybe even counterproductive.
While this position possesses some merit, previous scholarship has missed Weber’s general point about Kautilya in the “Vocation” lectures, thus preventing a deeper understanding of the important tensions and overlaps between a brahmanical and secular realism. To begin, Kautilya’s and Machiavelli’s conception of realism differ in a fundamental way. Weber suggests Machiavelli’s significance rests not in his realism but rather in separating politics from religion and conceiving an autonomous political sphere, thus making possible a distinct yet successful political ethic. As Weber points out, Kautilya’s Arthaśāstra displays a more ruthless realism and remarkably efficient responsiveness to a variety of political necessities. Machiavelli’s originality and the comparison with Kautilya thus invoke the question of how an effective political realism could be developed without being religiously motivated. 5 When revisiting Weber’s comment, the most intriguing aspect of Kautilya’s political stance, from a cross-cultural perspective, is that it never confronted the need to develop an autonomous political realism precisely because of the brahmanical framework in which it was justified.
Building on these observations, this essay critically reexamines Kautilya’s and Machiavelli’s realist political thought. Employing a new analytic approach, I locate unidentified tensions and overlaps between Machiavelli’s secular ethic, which pulls towards autonomous standards, and Kautilya’s political-theological ethic, which follows traditional brahmanical beliefs. In the first section of the essay I explain how, given Kautilya’s political-theological stance, no apparent need arose to make a “Machiavellian move”—that is, no need to separate a highest good from politics to conceive an autonomous political sphere and to formulate a correspondingly effective political realism. Since the particular problem for Machiavelli was not religion broadly construed but rather an “effeminate” Christian religious ethic, the question arises: would Machiavelli admire and approve of Kautilya’s position? 6 I argue the answer would be negative, and existing scholarship has not fully comprehended how Machiavelli and Kautilya formulate their realisms along different metrics. 7 To defend this contention, however, I first challenge existing interpretations of Kautilya as either a secular or religious/secular hybrid. In this first section I thus advance a coherent Kautilyan political theology and explain how Kautilya is a traditional, conservative thinker rather than a radical one.
After clarifying Kautilya’s political theology, in the second section of the essay I undertake a comparative reexamination of the most significant tensions and overlaps between the two thinkers on the topic of realism. I do so by taking an analytic approach that employs the concepts of flexibility and legitimacy. On the one hand, I argue that Kautilya’s brahmanical realism demonstrates tremendous internal flexibility within external religious constraints. On the other hand, Machiavelli’s secular realism exhibits external flexibility because it swings free of any comprehensive, nonpolitical moral doctrine yet remains internally (politically) constrained by his conceptions of glory and liberty. This analytic approach thus displays an intriguing tension between realist positions with inverted levels of internal/external flexibility. Although these positions differ quite markedly, they both evoke the issue of legitimacy. While Machiavelli stresses the art of founding and maintaining new states and Kautilya emphasizes maintaining a preexisting kingdom according to traditional brahmanical standards, both thinkers worry about securing legitimacy for their respective rulers and political orders.
In the second section, I also explain how Kautilya’s brahmanical realism, from a Machiavellian perspective, comes with a high price tag. A Machiavellian would argue that brahmanical realism’s internal flexibility is self-defeating because it would diminish the ruler’s legitimacy and thus hamper his efforts to secure a stable and legitimate brahmanical kingship. The Kautilyan response, however, suggests that Machiavelli’s secular realism could suffer from both its internal inflexibility and external flexibility. This comparative reexamination thus brings one of the most important works of Indian political thought to bear on questions concerning political legitimacy. This move is timely because scholarship on Indian political thought has generally neglected central thinkers and texts from premodern periods, thus preventing Indian traditions from bringing their history of ideas to bear on topics of cross-cultural concern. I conclude the essay by considering how this particular exercise in comparative political theory connects to related issues in contemporary democratic politics.
Kautilya’s Realism and Brahmanical Political Theology
To begin, Kautilya’s Arthaśāstra (ca. 4th cent. BCE to 4th cent. CE) is a work of brahmanical-Hindu political thought situated within a long lineage of brahmanical texts and tradition of inquiry. While some scholars have astutely highlighted the classical Indian character and themes within this text, they have yet to connect these themes to the text’s political realism in a clear and systematic fashion. 8 While Anthony Parel states that Kautilya’s Arthaśāstra represents the beginning of a distinct canon of Indian political thought, one must note that the Arthaśāstra does not accurately represent all Indian political thought during this time period. 9 Rather, the text extends a tradition of brahmanical political thought rooted in the earliest brahmanical text, the Rig-Veda Samhitā (ca. 1500 BCE), and thus makes a clear effort to “establish (the necessity of) the Vedas (trayī).” 10 As Patrick Olivelle has recently argued, presumptions about the supremacy of the brahmanical community and its ideology are clearly reflected in the received text. 11 The text’s general aim is to explain how a king ought to rule a kingdom, including detailed advice about practical matters such as choosing and overseeing ministers and judges, domestic peacekeeping, criminal punishment, and a theory of foreign affairs. More particularly, the text’s central concern is the flourishing of artha (material well-being, including the means of achieving it) within a kingdom, and the driving question is: how can a ruler who follows traditional brahmanical teachings, including prior teachings on ruling (arthaśāstra, nītiśāstra), protect and expand artha as a necessary condition of social harmony and peace? Contra existing readings of Kautilya’s political thought, I argue that Kautilya’s political realism is embedded within a coherent brahmanical, political-theological tradition. Establishing this point is necessary because otherwise one could argue that Kautilya’s realism is merely a by-product of a distinct secular strain of political thought in the Arthaśāstra. 12 However, I argue Kautilya is a traditional, conservative political thinker and not a radical one.
Unfortunately, scholars have made faulty comparisons between Machiavelli and Kautilya for some time now, frequently interpreting Kautilya as a nontraditional, radical thinker when he is in fact quite conservative by traditional brahmanical standards. Two predominant yet opposing readings currently exist. The first position maintains that the two thinkers show significant cross-cultural similarities, especially on the topic of realism, 13 while the second position points out significant differences and problems associated with drawing such similarities. 14 This debate remains unsettled partly because of scholars’ inability, or perhaps unwillingness, to reconcile Kautilya’s religion and politics in any systematic manner. I will address this debate by advancing two separate arguments: first, I reconcile Kautilya’s political and religious commitments and locate a coherent brahmanical political theology in the Arthaśāstra to explain how Kautilya is not an incoherent political thinker; second, I contextualize Kautilya within his historical context to clarify both his traditionalism and originality.
I begin to reconcile Kautilya’s religious and political commitments by responding to two arguments concerning a supposed incoherence in Kautilya’s political thought. If this reconciliation succeeds, then I can show how his political realism, which denotes his political commitments, and his brahmanism, which denotes his religious commitments, express a coherent brahmanical political theology. Contrary to most existing interpretations I contend that Kautilya’s religious and political commitments cohere with one another. My position is closest to N.P. Sil’s, who claims, “Kautilya emerges as a politician who was a realist, though essentially a moralist.” 15 However, in contrast to Sil, I do not believe Kautilya’s political thought ranks artha, which is usually associated with politics, as the “most prominent” category of human life. 16 This claim conflicts with Sil’s prior claim that Kautilya is ultimately a brahmanical “moralist” because it is difficult to conceive how Kautilya could be both a traditional, religious moralist and a politician who privileges material well-being over religious categories of human life such as dharma (one’s specific moral duties as well as the cosmic ordering principle regulating all individual, social, and cosmic life). Is this apparent tension between Kautilya’s religious and political commitments due to misreadings, or simply a muddled position expressed in the Arthaśāstra? Sil, U.N. Ghoshal, and R.S. Sharma defend the predominant position that two opposing traditions of political thought converge in the Arthaśāstra (i.e., the theological-brahmanical tradition and the political, arthaśāstra tradition) and create a necessary tension in Kautilya’s own political thinking. 17
Arguing against this account, I separate the claim for incoherence into two separate arguments based upon the two passages that grab the most scholarly attention. The first argument evokes an early passage that states: “Material well-being [artha] alone is supreme,” says Kautilya. “For, spiritual good and sensual pleasures depend upon material well-being.” 18 Some argue that this statement establishes Kautilya as a more secular, nontraditional brahmanical thinker. 19 Accordingly, they claim this passage displays Kautilya’s nontraditional privileging of politics, as the science associated with artha, as superior to the science associated with “spiritual good,” or dharma. This interpretation falters for the following reasons. First, the above statement does invoke Kautilya’s unique realist extension of traditional brahmanical thought concerning the necessity of artha to the other central goals of human life (purushārthas), including details about what this life entails. However, Kautilya should not be read as privileging artha over dharma. He does not argue for artha’s superiority but rather for its harmonious integration with the other goals of human life. That is, dharma, kāma (desire, including the sphere of physical, sensual delights), and moksha (liberation from the cycle of birth and death, the ultimate goal of human existence) all depend upon artha to flourish in a codependent fashion. 20 Here Kautilya’s claim concerns material dependence, not qualitative superiority. His claim may appear secular because of his specific focus on the subject matter of artha throughout the Arthaśāstra. While this focus can give the false impression that he is a secular thinker of sorts, Kautilya does not argue for the qualitative superiority of artha over other aspects of human life, such as dharma and kāma. Rather, the key realist claim found in this statement, and thus his major contribution to brahmanical political thought, is that artha is not only necessary for the flourishing of the other areas of human life but that artha’s relation to ruling should be understood in precise detail. 21 Therefore, Kautilya should be interpreted as a politically and administratively astute brahmin who meticulously explicates the importance of artha to the flourishing of the other purushārthas.
The second scholarly argument for Kautilya’s incoherence concerns the claim that “royal edict” supersedes established religious law and custom. In the third book, the Arthaśāstra states: “A matter of dispute has four feet—law, transaction, custom, and royal edict; (among them) the later one supersedes the earlier one.” 22 This statement appears to privilege a king and his decision-making power over what orthodox brahmanical law may dictate, which may further indicate a potential superiority for politics over religion. 23 However, a subsequent passage explains: “(Carrying out) his own duty by the king, who protects the subjects according to law, leads to heaven; of one who does not protect or who inflicts an unjust punishment, (the condition) is the reverse of this.” 24 This statement indicates that Kautilya, as any orthodox brahmin would, expects his ruler to follow brahmanical law and teachings, especially the interpretations of these teachings offered by the ruler’s brahmin advisors.
Expectations that the king will follow brahmanical guidance also entail that he follow his “own duty” (svadharma), which is understood as a kshatriya-varna duty (the duty associated with the ruler’s social group) rooted in Vedic teachings. Stretching back to the Vedic Samhitās and Brāhmanas, brahmanical thought assumes a king’s primary duty is to protect the well-being of his people and the broader cosmic order. This argument for protection extends back to the earliest layer of the Rig-Veda Samhitā and the first rulers (rājans), the divine devas (gods), which include Indra, Mitra-Varuna, and Agni. 25 In later books of the Rig-Veda and the Brāhmanas (ritual manuals and commentaries), beginning with Rig-Veda 10.90 (the Purusha Sūkta), a distinct group of human rulers (rājanya, later kshatriya) are gradually understood to be protectors of communal well-being. 26 Therefore, claims about royal edict do not privilege politics over religion because the text assumes any royal edict will cohere with traditional brahmanical law. No convincing evidence in the Arthaśāstra supports the claim that Kautilya believes a king would make royal edicts contravening orthodox brahmanical prescription.
Furthermore, by following Kautilya’s advice and the Arthaśāstra’s injunctions, the king would already be following traditional brahmanical teaching, according to which the brahmin purohita (the king’s personal priest-advisor) holds the position of instructor while the king holds the position of student. One can observe an early version of this relationship in a ritual context between a brahmin officiant and rājanya (ruler, king) in the Śatapatha Brāhmana: “‘So the rājanya accomplished this’—‘he fought and won this battle.’ [These are the things] The rājanya sings. Truly, war is the rājanya’s strength (vīrya), thus he [the priest] endows him [a kshatriya] with strength.” 27 Elsewhere, brahmanical texts explain that the kshatriya king needs a brahmin purohita because the purohita is “half part of the kshatriya.” 28 In the Upanishads, one observes brahmin sages such as Yājñavalkya instructing rulers such as Janaka. 29 Kautilya’s thought thus clearly falls within a brahmanical lineage extending from the Rig-Veda Samhitā and Upanishads through the arthaśāstra tradition, as the latter tradition clearly draws upon prior brahmanical concepts and sociopolitical beliefs. In sum, Kautilya’s Arthaśāstra presents a political theology grounded in the Vedic tradition that expresses a unique, realist-oriented focus on artha’s importance to the other central aspects of human life.
Flexibility and Legitimacy: Kautilya’s Brahmanical Realism versus Machiavelli’s Secular Realism
In this section, I argue that these thinkers’ respective realisms, while showing various similarities, ultimately pull in different directions. Most importantly, Kautilya and Machiavelli measure effectiveness in meeting political necessity along different metrics. While Kautilya appeals to a particular political theology and aims to preserve a traditional brahmanical sociopolitical order, Machiavelli appeals to secular aims (glory, liberty) and seeks to acquire and maintain a new state in a delegitimized world without the help of Christianity or any other religious tradition. 30 Nevertheless, one can cogently compare their realisms according to the concepts of flexibility and legitimacy. While Kautilya’s realist ethic is quite flexible, it is also constrained by a political theology that, from Machiavelli’s perspective, would justify overly brutal repression and ultimately become self-defeating. A Machiavellian would claim that the flexible tactics Kautilya’s ruler employs would undermine the legitimacy of the entire brahmanical sociopolitical order. From a Kautilyan perspective, however, because Machiavelli’s secular realism pulls towards autonomous standards, it would not pose any apolitical moral constraints that could be justified by a comprehensive doctrine standing above or outside the political sphere. As I will explain, a Kautilyan would contend that this position comes with its own costs.
To start, Kautilya’s understanding of the relationship between religion and politics fundamentally differs from Machiavelli’s understanding. Kautilya does not posit a sharp distinction between politics and religion or adopt the following Machiavellian positions: politics and religion offer irreconcilable value systems and attendant ethics; 31 a religious or philosophical highest good does not supply criteria lying outside and above politics by which one should judge political matters; as an independent sphere of human life, politics offers an alternative ethic that a ruler should choose if he wishes to address political necessities in a successful fashion. In the Discourses, Machiavelli contends that Christianity and the church, which pose an “effeminate ethics” appealing to a realm outside politics, lead to political weakness in both Italian citizens and political leaders. 32 Machiavelli claims, “Our religion has glorified humble and contemplative more than active men,” and “placed the highest good in humility, abjectness, and contempt of things human. . . . This mode of life thus seems to have rendered the world weak and given it prey to criminal men.” 33 In The Prince, he explains that actually being good and observing traditional (religious) virtues leads a prince to ruin among so many who are not good. 34 As a result, Machiavelli argues that a prince must be prepared to “act against faith, against charity, against humanity, against religion.” 35 This last statement about religion clearly differentiates the political thought of Machiavelli and Kautilya.
As I suggested earlier, the Vedas provide the theoretical, religious, and revelatory basis for Kautilya’s political realism. 36 Kautilya explains: “For, people . . . among whom the varnas and the stages of life are securely established and who are guarded by the three Vedas, prosper, do not perish.” 37 The traditional brahmanical distinction between varnas (social groups) and theory of varnāśramadharma (the duties associated with one’s social group and life stage) supply the conceptual and justificatory foundation for Kautilya’s ruling claims. 38 He states: “The law laid down in this Vedic lore is beneficial, as it prescribes the respective duties of the four varnas and the four stages of life.” 39 Kautilya thus assumes separate types of human beings (brahmins, kshatriyas, vaiśyas, and śūdras) exist, which can be clearly understood from Vedic revelation. He also lays out the normative duties associated with the proper āśramas (life stages) of the householder (grihastha), student (brahmacārin), forest-dweller (vānaprastha), and wandering ascetic (parivrājaka). 40 Kautilya understands proper kingly rule to entail maintaining and protecting this particular brahmanical social order: “the king should not allow the special duties of the (different) beings to be transgressed; for, ensuring adherence to (each one’s) special duty, he [i.e., the king] finds joy after death as well as in this life.” 41 As the Arthaśāstra later explains, the king should also extend this social order: “And after conquering the world he [king] should enjoy it divided into varnas and āśramas in accordance with his own duty.” 42 For comparative purposes, one must emphasize that this is a distinctly hierarchical social system, with the brahmin varna standing at the top and not the king or kshatriya varna. Kautilya clearly elucidates special privileges for brahmins concerning taxes, division of goods, punishments, and protection from “robbery” by the king. 43 Therefore, Kautilya does not privilege the political sphere in any Machiavellian sense. While Machiavelli separates politics and a distinct political ethic from religion and a religious or philosophical highest good, Kautilya explains how proper kingly rule entails preserving a distinctly brahmanical way of life. However, while Machiavelli argues that Christianity cultivates a weak political ethic, Kautilya’s brahmanism trains his ruler to act resolutely and sternly attend to political realities.
What is interesting here from Weber’s aforementioned comments is that Machiavelli argued for an autonomous political realism free of political-theological strings. 44 This difference aside, both thinkers display a thoroughgoing concern for political necessities as they are found here on earth, and not according to some idealist metaphysics. For example, Kautilya’s political advice echoes Machiavelli’s in appealing to how things “really are” as opposed to how they might be “imagined.” In The Prince, Machiavelli famously states: “But since my intent is to write something useful . . . it has appeared to me more fitting to go directly to the effectual truth of the thing than to the imagination of it. And many have imagined republics and principalities that have never been seen or known to exist in truth.” 45 This statement clearly expresses the realist position that Machiavelli defends in both The Prince and Discourses with a broad array of historical examples, which he believes provide the most accurate understanding of politics as it really is. 46
Kautilya also focuses on how things really are, as most of the Arthaśāstra instructs the king about the day-to-day realities associated with ruling. One reality Kautilya explains is the necessity for a king to mitigate any hatred directed towards his kingship. Contrary to previous arthaśāstra teachers, Kautilya claims the severity of the danda (rod of punishment, or punishment in general) must be tempered so that a king does not instigate any ill feelings among his subjects, which may result in his own destruction. 47 This instruction to measure one’s tactics carefully and keep an eye on public perception indicates how legitimacy is an ongoing issue for a ruler. Kautilya also presents a realist-oriented foreign policy, outlining a theory of “decline, stability, and advancement” for a kingdom that includes instructions about how to conduct war with an external enemy. 48 Therefore, Kautilya instructs his king in many of the practical necessities associated with artha, including a wide variety of internal and external security measures. Here I would qualify these interpretations of Kautilya’s realism as categorically linked to the subject matter of artha, because his unique position within the brahmanical tradition is the necessary result of his intense focus on this specific topic. Furthermore, this realism should not tempt scholars to interpret Kautilya as either a secular sort of political thinker or as someone who neatly parses politics from religion. 49 Qualifications aside, Kautilya’s kingly instructions express a distinct realist position that previous brahmanical texts like the Samhitās, Brāhmanas, and Dharmasūtras do not enumerate.
In outlining each thinker’s flexible, pragmatic stance to various political realities, I also locate an important similarity between the two thinkers on the topic of appearance versus reality. Like Machiavelli, Kautilya distinguishes between appearance and reality, emphasizing the importance of appearance just as Machiavelli does in The Prince. In chapter eighteen, Machiavelli states: “Thus, it is not necessary for a prince to have all the above-mentioned qualities in fact, but it is indeed necessary to appear to have them.” 50 Because people judge “more by their eyes than by their hands,” as a skilled actor the prince must give the appearance of various qualities (faithfulness, humanity, honesty) because appearing to have them is useful, but actually having and observing them is harmful. 51 While Kautilya may not posit such a sharp distinction and normative behavior based thereupon, he believes appearance is tremendously important to a king. For example, the king must constantly deceive those closest to him, including his son, so that he can spy on and understand their intentions under a veil of secrecy. 52 Kautilya thus advises his king to test the loyalty of his ministers by alluring them with material gain, lust, and fear. 53 The king must look pious and keep his hands clean while simultaneously organizing covert spying operations, whereby an army of spies—for example, “roving spies” disguised as “deaf (people) and hump-backs”—uses a variety of violent methods such as poisoning people. 54 Kautilya also explains the importance of the king’s general appearance to his subjects and the underlying importance of this appearance. 55 However, unlike Machiavelli, Kautilya believes appearing and actually being virtuous are reconcilable because the king’s svadharma (his own, proper duty) possesses a moral flexibility akin to Machiavelli’s virtù.
I now consider some of the more repressive tactics Kautilya’s political theology promotes, and how Machiavelli might respond to such measures from the standpoint of his secular realist position. To start, both thinkers argue for a political ethic akin to virtù, or the flexible usage of prudence and impetuousness when responding to political necessities. Machiavelli explains that a political leader must flexibly respond to necessity, “adapt to the qualities of the times,” and be both prudent and impetuous. 56 While broader religious constraints do exist, Kautilya’s king must also use prudence and audacity rather flexibly when ruling. In a Machiavellian-sounding passage, Kautilya explains: “Hindrances to gain [for the kingdom] are . . . regard for the other world [and] piousness.” 57 The Kautilyan ruler is advised to be flexible and prudential so as not to instigate hatred, but must also be incredibly harsh when necessary; for example, when a śūdra strikes a brahmin, whatever limb was used must be cut off. 58 In addition, the king must regularly use torture to suppress criminals: “The ordinary fourfold torture is: six strokes with a stick, seven lashes with a whip, two suspensions from above and the water-tube.” 59 Such methods are a necessary component of his varna-dharma as a kshatriya-ruler. Here, one ruler’s virtù appears to be another ruler’s dharma. Though flexible, Machiavelli would not approve Kautilya’s entire toolbox of tactics because, as I will explain below, harsh measures may elicit the discontent of the ruler’s subjects and thus pose a challenge to his legitimacy. To summarize, the internal flexibility of Kautilya’s political ethic owes its gravity to the brahmanical, religious worldview. His king does not need to worry about “being bad” in a Machiavellian sense because, from a brahmanical point of view, torture is part and parcel of “being good” and a necessary component of the king’s dharma as ruler.
Although the concept entails some ambiguity for both thinkers, one potential constraint for their political leaders may be a “common good.” 60 Like Machiavelli, Kautilya discusses corruption and what constitutes a corrupted political administration in reference to a common good. Throughout the Discourses Machiavelli mentions both corruption and the common good, arguing that corruption in a free republic entails the impairment of its common good and citizens’ liberty. 61 Machiavelli believes the common good, or public liberty, can only be preserved by maintaining orders and laws that provide outlets for conflict and the “venting of alternating humors.” 62 Without such laws and orders, the common good would dissipate due to corruption that creeps into the bowels of a city. 63 Machiavelli also claims, “it is not the particular good but the common good that makes cities great.” 64 In a general sense, Kautilya agrees that something like a common good exists. Here the common good would be his subjects’ material well-being, which assures varnāśramadharma’s smooth operation and his subjects’ happiness. 65 A kingdom would indeed be corrupt if the king did not maintain subjects’ material well-being. However, using the term “public good” to characterize Kautilya’s notion of his subjects’ well-being—if specifically referring to a notion of citizen liberty—would be a mistake. For Kautilya, something like citizen liberty would be inconceivable and disastrous to the health of a kingdom because the social order must operate according to the varnāśramadharma system, according to which notions of individual or public liberty do not exist.
While the varnāśramadharma system poses an overarching political-theological constraint, the ruler’s svadharma as a kshatriya permits a startling level of internal flexibility. This is the point at which a Kautilyan would question some of the internal constraints of Machiavelli’s secular realism, particularly Machiavelli’s conception of political success versus greatness and individualized glory. Like Machiavelli, Kautilya posits something like glory—something lasting for both the ruler and political order—as superior to mere political success understood as long-term stability. For Machiavelli’s ruler, establishing political legitimacy and stability is quite good, but achieving glory is the most excellent thing. 66 While discussing Agathocles in The Prince, he claims: “one cannot call it virtue to kill one’s citizens, betray one’s friends . . . these modes can enable one to acquire empire, but not glory . . . his [i.e. Agathocles’s] savage cruelty and inhumanity do not permit him to be celebrated among the most excellent men.” 67 The parallel to glory in the Discourses may be “greatness,” which can be seen in his comparative assessment of Rome and Sparta. Rome appears superior to Sparta because of its greatness as opposed to mere stability and longevity. 68 Glory thus supersedes the acquisition and maintenance of political stability, and excellence is measured by achieving glory. For Kautilya, no precise correlate to glory exists because the political leader’s autonomy is not what is most important. By contrast, for Machiavelli a notion of autonomy applies to both a prince and state such that an individualized sense of excellence and glory can make sense as attached to either. The utmost aims for Kautilya’s king, however, are preserving the kingdom’s general welfare and varnāśramadharma system. Consequently, varna-dharma, which entails the duties associated with a king’s particular social group (varna) and role as ruler, dictates the king’s political goals. Kautilya’s ruler thus cannot have political goals tied to an understanding of autonomy in any Machiavellian sense. In a broad sense a Kautilyan correlate to Machiavellian glory may be said to exist in the form of endless bliss after death. 69 A type of personal glory and excellence may thus exist for a king insofar as following a particular political virtue (a kshatriya’s varna-dharma) leads to a lasting, individualized goal greater than mere political stability. However, while this kingly goal appears quite individualized and may parallel a prince’s glory in a broad sense, the king’s goal remains otherworldly and is not distinctly political.
Here a Kautilyan would argue that Machiavelli’s politically autonomous conceptions of glory and public liberty place serious internal constraints on Machiavelli’s realist ethic. From the Kautilyan perspective, secular glory and citizen liberty would prevent his political leader from engaging in numerous activities that political necessity may call for. 70 Kautilya’s realism in the Arthaśāstra poses fewer internal constraints for a king, as the king’s political ethic entails greater flexibility than Machiavelli’s virtù. For example, Kautilya’s focus on appearance and control of events far exceeds Machiavelli’s in detail, displaying the Arthaśāstra’s intense focus on the realities of kingly administration. While Kautilya’s ruler may be externally constrained by religion insofar as he cannot supplant the varnāśramadharma system, because of the theological importance of this system Kautilya urges his king to attend to numerous political realities that Machiavelli does not discuss in The Prince or Discourses. Due to the stakes of ruling for the brahmanical position, namely, the preservation of Vedic truths as manifest in the sociopolitical realm, Kautilya gives incredibly detailed instructions to his king on how to approach the realities of political sedition, royal jealousies, and public hatred. And since sustaining the varnāśramadharma system is a fundamental, metaphysical aim for the king, Kautilya permits him to engage in a wider variety of activities than Machiavelli’s political leader when responding to necessity and chance (fortuna). Because no such thing as citizen liberty exists in the Arthaśāstra, the need to protect and promote such liberty while simultaneously attempting to respond to harsh political realities does not restrain Kautilya’s ruler in the least. In this regard, his ruler is not constrained by a perceived (religious) distinction between ordinary morality and what necessity requires because the king’s varna-dharma not only permits, but actually requires, a wider range of realist responses to what necessity may demand. From a Kautilyan perspective, Machiavelli’s tough talk about conquering fortuna rings hollow because it fails to explain precisely how a prince can conquer fortuna in her many unpredictable and peculiar manifestations. On this reading, virtù would simply be too weak and inflexible to meet the challenges set forth by fortuna.
In response to this critique, a Machiavellian might contend that Kautilya pushes too far in the other direction: lacking the necessary internal constraints, brahmanical realist tactics would gradually diminish the legitimacy of the ruler in the eyes of the ruled. In fact, all the gruesome detail Kautilya provides might stem from severe brahmanical anxiety about the existing lack of legitimacy within his particular historical context. This is a legitimate cross-cultural critique. Like Machiavelli, Kautilya discusses the importance of establishing legitimacy as it pertains to a new political leader. In The Prince, Machiavelli addresses the problem of how to gain legitimacy in a delegitimized world. The prince must be, as J.G.A. Pocock has pointed out, a true “innovator.” 71 In the Discourses, Machiavelli stresses the need for continual refounding, or reordering, and the establishment of legitimacy. 72 Machiavelli also explains how “the one” must innovate and “the many” must preserve the innovation. 73 While Kautilya does not ask his king to be such a large-scale innovator, his advice presupposes some ingenuity on the king’s part—that is, channeled through the confines of the multifarious rules and procedures set out in the Arthaśāstra. In addition, the Arthaśāstra assumes a substantial lack of political legitimacy. Kautilya’s instructions are tremendously detailed partly because of the absence of a prior legitimate ruler who possessed the necessary attributes to rule properly; he leaves no stone unturned lest another administration of illegitimate śūdra kings, such as the Nandas, gain the throne. 74 Because Kautilya’s instructions cover almost every possible aspect of kingly administration, however, they admittedly allow for less innovation on the king’s part. Nevertheless, Kautilya worries about his ruler’s legitimacy and any tactics that might endanger it.
The Machiavellian could thus justifiably argue that the internal flexibility of brahmanical realism would likely jeopardize a ruler’s legitimacy and the overarching religious goals that he aims to achieve. That is, the king’s varna-dharma permits overtly repressive tactics, and in doing so would gradually undermine the legitimacy of the king’s rule. The only way harsh tactics may not threaten his legitimacy would be if most subjects fully accepted the established sociopolitical order. But if this were the case, why would Kautilya’s king need all these repressive measures in the first place? Of course, this objection implies that Kautilyan subjects understood themselves to possess something akin to rights or liberties, which I have shown to be mistaken given the historical and cultural context. Nevertheless, the brahmanical fervor standing behind Kautilya’s detailed advice in the Arthaśāstra indicates considerable fear of nonbrahmanical rule. The fact that nonbrahmanical rule had existed in the recent past helps explain the motivations behind Kautilya’s political advice and indicates that many subjects did not necessarily accept the brahmanical sociopolitical order. The Machiavellian position thus poses a viable critique of Kautilya on the topic of legitimacy. If many subjects do not hold brahmanical beliefs, then scaring and torturing them into submission might be counterproductive in the long run. Kautilya’s brahmanical realism would then appear self-defeating.
While this is a damaging objection to the brahmanical realist position, a Kautilyan could provide a countercritique. The Kautilyan critic might point out that Machiavelli’s new prince—or any secular ruling body for that matter—would not possess any distinct philosophical or theological constraints, and thus no foundational, apolitical moral constraints. For Kautilya, Machiavelli’s conception of an autonomous political morality could open the door for innovative, equally repressive tactics. First, overt violence and repression pose significant legitimacy issues when used against a state’s own citizens, especially a secular state that promotes concepts of rights and freedom. Therefore, a Kautilyan might argue that a secular political system may develop or allow new, less overt methods to control and repress its citizens. Second, because both thinkers assume that ruling requires using some degree of legitimate force and punishment to maintain social order and material prosperity (artha, or perhaps a capitalist economic system), a secular body that takes liberty as its utmost good may simply redirect or externalize this force towards some “other.” Groups falling into this category may include foreigners, minority racial groups, or “enemy combatants.” This move would not dissolve violence, repression, or injustice but only shift it to a less powerful or marginalized group of people, thus turning illegitimate water into legitimate wine.
More broadly, without an apolitical highest good to anchor the political order, including the ruler’s goals and behavior, following a secular realism may ultimately leave a polity prey to the whimsy of a given ruler or governing body. For a Kautilyan, this would permit whatever tactics seemed necessary to achieve glory or maintain liberty for that particular regime. If permitted by rulers and subjects alike, what constitutes glory and justifies the maintenance of public liberty may change significantly across historical and cultural contexts. Therefore, in both substance and method, a secular realism may leave subjects open to even more repressive regimes—ones that might do anything to secure Machiavelli’s cherished goals of glory and liberty. While the earlier Kautilyan objection concerned Machiavelli’s internal inflexibility, this objection raises the alternative question of whether or not Machiavelli’s secular realism could be as flexibly repressive as Kautilya’s brahmanical realism. Both objections highlight potential weaknesses in Machiavelli’s position. The potential links between flexibility, repression, and legitimacy thus provide a helpful analytic framework for assessing both types of realism.
The Kautilyan Mirror and a Secular Smokescreen
As this comparative critique indicates, a Kautilyan would question where the buck stops within a secular realist ethic. If the answer is glory, because this concept would not pose any apolitical standards, would success and effectiveness not be decided by any given ruler or people, making glory devoid of substantive content and potentially very threatening? If the answer is liberty, what criteria would rulers use to decide when and to what extent they could employ coercion and repression to preserve or enhance liberty? To conclude the essay, I address these issues by considering how this particular exercise in comparative political theory connects to related issues in contemporary politics. Here I contend that the potential flexibility and restraint within secular versus political-theological realisms should raise our awareness of realist tactics and their consequences in a democratic society—including such things as fear, de-democratization, spying, and torture 75 —which may increasingly be obscured by a “secular smokescreen.”
To begin, it looks as if the Kautilyan critique of Machiavelli could apply to democracies such as the United States, which purport to be politically secular insofar as they do not systematically and explicitly appeal to any particular religious doctrine to support realist policies. In this condition, a secular democracy could be understood as furtive grounds for secular realism insofar as it professes separation between religion (or church) and state, and does not appeal to any comprehensive religious or metaphysical doctrine for legitimacy. In turn, this raises the Kautilyan question of whether belief in an American-style secular realism is conducive to permitting flexible realist tactics such as spying and torture. If the realism operating in the United States is more secular in a Machiavellian sense than political-theological in a Kautilyan sense, could the United States be equally vulnerable to problematic realist maneuvers?
Here one is reminded of Leo Strauss’s critique of Machiavelli. Strauss argues that Machiavelli’s severance of higher goods and virtues from politics effectively lowered political standards by taking necessity and the extreme case as ultimate bearings, 76 which would presumably leave political regimes that have made a Machiavellian move tremendously flexible and open to abusive tactics. Do similarities between a Machiavellian position and American democratic politics suggest the need for something like classical political rationalism and normative standards of philosophic virtue, as Strauss suggests? Does Strauss’s critique verify Kautilyan concerns when Strauss claims that Machiavelli contracts the horizon of politics (i.e., by severing it from classical political rationalism, philosophic virtue and insight, and natural right), and thus paradoxically enlarges a political horizon that opens the door for all sorts of “badness”? 77 Even though such overlapping critiques appear reasonable at first glance, I contend that Kautilya’s critique points us in a very different direction—one that actually embraces and extends the Machiavellian move. While the absence of apolitical (religious, philosophical) moral standards can appear dangerous and threatening up front, we do not necessarily need to draw Straussian conclusions.
In a contemporary democratic context the Kautilyan critique suggests that purportedly secular democracies increasingly appeal to internal or immanent, as opposed to external or transcendent, standards to control abuses justified by foreign and domestic realist policies. Democracies that follow a secular realist approach akin to Machiavelli’s have the distinct advantage of possessing internal political constraints on their ruling body. For example, periodic elections and nonviolent public protest have the potential to hold abusive representatives accountable for their actions. Contra Kautilyan concerns, because democracies such as the United States need not rely on apolitical goals and standards, they remain more sensitive to tactics that may endanger “earthly” political legitimacy. This suggests that democratic polities adopting a secular realist position in domestic and international affairs substitute a deep-seated belief in the value of democracy for the role of religion. Adopting this belief would help expose the misleading claims made by proponents of realism who attempt to smuggle religion in the back door while trumpeting secularism at the front door.
Citizens could thus insist on more radical democratic mechanisms to facilitate deliberative and agonistic checks on political leaders. Contra Strauss, democratic realist tactics may be threatened less by the absence of classical rationalism and more by the aggressive political theologies that can thrive under the veil of secularism. That is, purported secular realisms can provide a smokescreen for political theologies or transcendent moral doctrines that surreptitiously justify acts of spying and torture. While some U.S. citizens may think their government’s realist tactics are justified by nontheological tenets—for example, believing they are merely defending “freedom”—one could alternatively consider the following: the culture of fear may emerge from a political theology of security; torture may be part of a new-age American religious crusade; and de-democratization may partially result from the persistence of a unitary executive fashioned after a god on earth. 78 Kautilya’s critique thus suggests that secular smokescreens be dispersed through embracing, and perhaps radicalizing, the Machiavellian move.
In this regard, Kautilya’s political-theological realism furnishes a mirror for our own condition and helps identify our potential blind spots. Just as scholars have not fully recognized how Kautilya’s realist tactics are justified by and grounded in religious doctrines, so many citizens in secular democracies may remain mesmerized, and ultimately deluded, by the supposed nontheological aspects of their government’s realist tactics. Kautilya’s critique of Machiavelli incisively explains how destructive religious or theological beliefs in contemporary democracies such as the United States can hide behind a secular smokescreen and thus potentially damage democratic legitimacy. Kautilya’s political thought provides a cross-cultural vantage point that helps us locate potentially similar, and problematic, motivations and tactics involved in different types of political realism. In sum, the comparison of Kautilya and Machiavelli helps to reveal how (supposedly) secular realist doctrines can lead us to overlook aggressive and repressive tactics available to political regimes that have turned a Machiavellian corner, but perhaps not followed the subsequent path far enough. Without doing so, perceptions of democratic legitimacy may suffer, and rightfully so. Kautilya thus reminds modern democracies and republics of what has been gained in making the Machiavellian move, which should raise our critical awareness concerning the flexibility of realist tactics available to such regimes.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
A previous version of this paper was presented at a Political Theory Workshop at the University of California, Santa Barbara, and I am grateful to the participants for their insights and suggestions. I would also like to thank Jane Bennett, Samuel Chambers, Farah Godrej, Sierra Gray, Burke Hendrix, Thomas Hughes, Barbara Holdrege, Andrew Norris, and four anonymous reviewers for their very helpful comments. I am especially indebted to Paige Digeser for her invaluable suggestions and ongoing support of this project from its inception.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.