Giovanni Botero wasn’t a philosopher who hid behind fancy robes, muttering pious nonsense.
He was the kind of guy who saw the stinking cesspool of power and figured out how to survive in it.
He wasn’t a saint, he didn’t write sermons for choir boys—he wrote a manual on how to keep the state alive when everything’s falling apart.
The world wasn’t made for nice people. It was made for people who know how to play the game—and Botero?
He played it better than most.
1. The Man Who Knew Power Wasn’t Pretty
Giovanni Botero was born in 1544. A priest, yeah, but he didn’t wear the robe like some saintly do-gooder. He wore it like armor.
Born in Italy, living through the mess of the 16th century, the dude saw corruption, war, the power-hungry scramble.
And instead of shaking his head in despair like some highfalutin philosopher, he decided, “Let’s take a good, hard look at this and see what makes it tick.”
He came out swinging with Della Ragion di Stato (The Reason of State)—and here’s the thing: he didn’t sit around talking about why politics was messed up.
He didn’t give a damn about “ideal” systems or some kind of utopia.
He just said, “Look, power is ugly. Let’s figure out how to make it work in this mess of human selfishness.” Botero didn’t flinch. He didn’t romanticize. He exposed it.
2. “Reason of State”: Political Machinations at Their Finest
If you’re still sitting there waiting for Botero to drop some noble, idealist speech about good governance, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.
Botero wasn’t interested in moral grandeur or fairytales. If anything, he gave the middle finger to that whole morality in politics nonsense.
In The Reason of State, he said the state’s survival wasn’t about being good—it was about doing whatever it takes to keep the thing together.
War? Sure. Lies? Absolutely. Political manipulation? Why not?
If it helped the state, it was fair game.
Botero saw it clear as day: when it comes to politics, virtue is a luxury, not a necessity.
| Political Action | Botero’s View |
|---|---|
| War | Essential for maintaining power |
| Alliances | Temporary, opportunistic, and strategic |
| Espionage | Crucial for state survival and intelligence |
Botero’s approach was as cold as a January night in Milan.
Morality was for priests and philosophers, not rulers. Power was about securing control, keeping the masses in line, and doing whatever the hell it took to keep the state alive.
Don’t get bogged down by ideals. Get the job done.
3. The State is Like a Machine – Grease It or Break It
Botero was no idealist. He didn’t think the state was some divine entity sent to guide mankind.
No, the state was more like a machine—a rusty, greasy, fragile machine. If you don’t keep it oiled, it falls apart. Simple as that.
He understood the gears of power—the ruling elite, the military, the economy—all of them have to be in sync, working together to keep things running smoothly.
Screw up one part, and everything could collapse.
Botero wasn’t some academic pretending he had all the answers. He wasn’t theorizing about the best way to rule.
He was looking at the tools you need to survive: manipulation, control, violence, and, above all, stability. If you couldn’t maintain the gears of power, your state would grind to dust.
4. The Moral Censorship? A Bunch of Bull
Botero didn’t waste time with moral hand-wringing. His view of the political world wasn’t clean, it wasn’t ideal—it was filthy, and it stank.
If you didn’t get your hands dirty, you wouldn’t last. Botero argued that rulers should abandon the idea of being good in any traditional sense.
Forget noble sacrifice and selflessness. The ruler’s job was to maintain power. Period.
This was the age of empires, cutthroat politics, and blood-soaked battlefields.
Forget about saints. If a ruler didn’t bend the rules, cheat a little, or even betray their closest allies—then they were just waiting to be overthrown.
Botero’s world was a pragmatic one, one where loyalty was negotiable, morality optional, and survival was the only game worth playing.
5. International Relations? It’s Just More Power Play
Botero didn’t stop at the borders of the state. He saw the international stage for what it was: a brutal, high-stakes game of who’s gonna dominate who.
He wasn’t naive enough to believe that nations could peacefully coexist based on moral agreements or mutual understanding.
Botero understood one thing: every nation was out for itself.
Alliances were fleeting. Trade was about power. War was just another method to expand. No one was ever just “friends” on the global stage. They were competitors.
| International Action | Botero’s View |
|---|---|
| Diplomacy | Temporary, strategic, used for self-interest |
| War | A necessary tool of statecraft |
| Trade | A tool for securing wealth and influence |
Everything was a chess game. If a country made an alliance, it was because it benefited them.
If a war was waged, it wasn’t about justice—it was about domination.
Botero knew that the international stage was like a barroom brawl.
You either fight, or you get trampled.
6. Legacy: His Influence Still Lingers
Botero wasn’t some one-hit wonder. His influence echoed through the corridors of history.
While everyone else was preoccupied with enlightenment and some lofty ideas about the social contract, Botero was practical.
His ideas laid the groundwork for later thinkers like Hobbes and Machiavelli.
Think about it: the world we live in—international relations, power politics—Botero had already seen it coming.
He wasn’t just some man of his time. No, Botero was ahead of it.
In a world that loved to talk about ideals, Botero was the one who cut through the noise and showed people how the game really worked.
Power wasn’t a dirty word—it was the currency of the world.
7. A Revolutionary in Disguise
Giovanni Botero revolutionized how we look at power and the state.
As a Jesuit, sure, he had his duties—but when it came to politics?
Botero didn’t hold back. He was a man of the streets, of the real world, not the ivory towers of academia.
He wasn’t making grand, moral statements. He was making a real difference in how the state operates.
He understood the political world the way a boxer understands his opponent: punch for punch, move for move.
If you don’t understand how power works, you’ll be knocked out before you even get a shot.
Botero didn’t care about how pretty or virtuous your ideas were.
He cared about survival.
Conclusion:
The state isn’t some holy institution.
It’s a battleground. It’s a machine that needs constant care—or it’ll crumble.
And if you can’t stomach the dirt that comes with it, then you better get out of the game.
Botero’s politics weren’t about making things nice.
They were about making them work—no matter what it took.
The thing is, power doesn’t play by anyone’s rules.
And Botero understood that. He wasn’t looking for applause. Hell, he wasn’t even looking for approval.
He was looking for survival.
And in the end, that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?
You think politics is about good guys winning? You’ve been fooled.
Botero told you how it works—and if you missed it, well, that’s on you.
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