So, you think The Prince was written for Lorenzo de Medici?
Cute. That’s what Machiavelli wants you to think. You’re a good little reader, aren’t you?
Just nodding along, believing the dedication at the front like it’s some sacred text.
No. Machiavelli was a schemer.
A political exile. A guy trying to claw his way back into the game.
He wasn’t writing for some rich kid born into power. He was writing for those who wanted power.
Those who could taste it but hadn’t yet sunk their teeth in. And if you’re paying attention, maybe he was writing for you too.
Now, let’s break this down.
The Lorenzo de Medici Smokescreen
Machiavelli dedicates The Prince to Lorenzo de Medici, the ruler of Florence at the time.
But this was like handing in a job application with a fake smile.
Machiavelli was exiled. He wanted back in.
This dedication was him saying, Hey buddy, look! I wrote you a book! Now let me come home! But Lorenzo? He didn’t care. He barely even acknowledged the book.
“Those Who Know”
In Chapter 15 (not 16, by the way—translation errors, gotta love ’em), Machiavelli drops a line that changes everything:
“My goal is to write something useful to those who understand it.”
Not “Lorenzo.” Not “princes.” Not “kings.” But those who understand.
This is a wink and a nod. A If you get it, you get it moment. So, who would understand?
Not the lucky-born rulers. Not the divine-right fools.
But the philosophers. The advisors. The ambitious. The ones lurking in the shadows, waiting for their turn.
The Kingmakers, Not the Kings
Real power isn’t with the king—it’s with the people whispering in his ear.
Machiavelli wasn’t stupid. He knew that most rulers didn’t actually rule.
They just wore the crown while someone smarter pulled the strings.
The Prince wasn’t a guide for those in charge.
It was a guide for those who wanted to control those in charge.
The Ruthless Realists
Machiavelli doesn’t waste time on fairy tales. No bedtime stories about noble kings ruling with kindness. No nonsense about justice always winning. He writes for people who see the world for what it is—a place where the strong take and the weak get taken.
He knew men weren’t angels. He knew leaders weren’t saints. He knew that if you wanted to keep power, you had to play by the real rules, not the ones written in philosophy books. That’s why he wrote this book—not for the hopeful, but for the hungry. Not for the dreamers, but for the ones who understood that sometimes, you have to do what is necessary.
“It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both.”
That line isn’t about cruelty. It’s about survival. People love you until they don’t. Fear, though? That lasts. Love is a handshake.
Fear is a contract.
So if you read The Prince and found yourself horrified—clutching your chest, gasping, Oh my, this is so harsh!—then congratulations, Machiavelli wasn’t writing for you.
But if you read it and thought, Now this guy understands how things work—then maybe, just maybe, he was.
The Future Leaders (and Wannabes)
A prince can inherit a throne. That’s easy.
The hard part? Keeping it.
That’s the part they don’t teach you in the history books, the part they gloss over in the old tales where every crown is a symbol of divine right.
They tell you stories of kings who were born into greatness, but they don’t mention the ones who were buried under the weight of it, crushed by the very power they were supposed to hold.
Machiavelli wasn’t interested in telling stories of princes born with silver spoons in their mouths.
He wasn’t writing for the ones who woke up with the world already at their feet.
No, he was writing for the ones who had to fight for that power, scrape their way to the top, and then had to fight again to keep it.
He was writing for the new rulers—the ones who had the ambition but not the birthright. The ones who hadn’t inherited anything but a hunger.
When Machiavelli lays it out, he doesn’t sugarcoat a thing.
If you’re a leader, your job isn’t to be liked. It’s to maintain control. It’s about survival, and survival doesn’t care about your feelings.
A ruler has to be more than just a figurehead.
They have to be smart. They have to know when to act and when to wait.
The Prince isn’t a book for the comfortably born—it’s for the fighters. The ones willing to do what it takes, no matter how dirty it gets.
Think about the rebels, the military leaders, the revolutionaries—the ones who want to reshape the world and make their mark.
They’re the ones Machiavelli is writing for.
It doesn’t matter if you’re starting with nothing, like he was. What matters is the drive to take what you need, to outsmart the ones who’ve already had it all.
He wrote for the ones who look at power like a battlefield. It’s not just about taking what’s yours; it’s about holding onto it once you’ve got it.
And don’t kid yourself—this applies to you too.
Don’t sit there thinking that because you don’t have a kingdom or an army, you’re off the hook.
The Prince speaks to anyone who wants to play the game, to anyone who knows that power doesn’t come from good intentions.
It’s about understanding the game, mastering it, and when the time comes, making your move.
So yeah, even you, sitting in your chair or standing on the edge of your dream. You’re part of the game too, whether you like it or not.
If you’re paying attention, Machiavelli’s message isn’t some old, dusty lesson—it’s a blueprint.
Power isn’t just for the rulers. It’s for the people who are willing to take it.
The Exiled and The Hungry
Machiavelli wrote this book from exile. He wasn’t in a palace sipping wine—he was kicked out, left to rot.
He was writing for people like him: outcasts who still had ambition.
People who weren’t done fighting. People who knew they had something left to prove.
The Reader Who Gets It
And finally, Machiavelli’s true audience?
The reader who sees through the layers. The one who doesn’t take everything at face value. The one who understands that sometimes, survival means playing dirty.
The one who knows that, in the end, power doesn’t go to the best person—it goes to the one who takes it.
Table Summary
| Who People Think It Was For | Who It Was Actually For |
|---|---|
| Lorenzo de Medici | Political advisors & strategists |
| Kings and princes | Philosophers and realists |
| Inherited rulers | Ambitious power-seekers |
| The ruling elite | The exiled and hungry |
| Naïve believers in morality | Those willing to do what it takes |
Machiavelli didn’t write The Prince for Lorenzo. He didn’t write it for kings.
He wrote it for the ones with dirt under their nails.
The ones who wanted power but didn’t have the birthright. The ones smart enough to see the world as it really is.
And maybe—just maybe—he wrote it for you.
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