The Overseer (75 page)

 

Such are the paths to upheaval in the political realm. Within the economic realm, there are also three paths: first, by natural depletion; next, by foreign blockade; and third, by designed ill-use. The first is most likely to cause strife among the various groups within a state; that is, setting the landed wealthy against artisans and merchants, and against the peasants and the poor. When goods are insufficient to meet the needs of each group, those who are deprived will find cause to revolt and send the state toward ruin. Oft the fault lies with the peasantry, for they are unable to recognize the ebb and flow of commerce and trade. When food or other necessities are scarce, they blame the landed, who are no more to blame than the peasants themselves, for it is nature, not greed, that causes the dearth of grain, wood, metals, and the like.

Nowhere has this farce been more common than in the German states of the last one hundred years. Guildsmen fought against merchants, peasants against lords, weavers and miners against merchants, until, with a sudden explosion, the Peasant wars erupted, leaving behind the rule of dictators throughout the German region. The chaos created by the economic discontent did naught but return the old rulers to power with even greater control than before. Natural depletion was
ill-suited
to send the state in a new direction.

As foreign military threat is difficult to control and equally difficult to cause, so, too, is foreign blockade. If any have been foolish enough to encourage a threat from abroad so that they might reap the benefits such chaos allows, they are indeed the worst sorts of fools, for there is little room for sweeping change once the blockade serves its end. Too often the besieged turn with sunken cheeks to their
vanquishers
, happy to accept any rule that promises bread. The few who have led the starving mob may insist that all choose death rather than submission. But men are inclined more by their stomachs than by honor or loyalty. The only change such action breeds is the rule of conquerors. And for those who ally themselves with the new rulers, they have only to look to history to see the fate of such traitors.

We are left with one choice: designed ill-use. Leaders cannot wait for a natural decline in trade and commerce to cause a panic; nor should they place their fate in the hands of a foreigner or an enemy. Instead, they must choose one area within the world of buying and selling that is susceptible to severe disturbance. Do not be fooled that this action must be of the most drastic sort. Those who wish to cause mayhem need not burn all the grain, nor ravage all the land. All they need provoke is one event that will shake the confidence of the people; one area where a sudden change will cause the crowd to doubt the security of all. This has happened more by fault than design throughout history, but the lesson is the same.

We may look to Milan for illustration. When a certain duke of that fair city, a devotee of the Guelfs (I shall spare his memory the indignity of giving his name), secretly ordered one of his own ships to be sunk, for fear that both friends and enemies would discover his mistress, a woman of the Ghibellines, to be on board, he mistakenly sent a vast quantity of wool and silk to the bottom with her. The duke’s actions may have prevented a nasty dispute between the two warring factions, but he created far more trouble by arousing the wrath of the merchants and weavers than if he had let the ship reach port. The silk and cloth manufacturers feared that their losses from the downed shipment would send their entire trades into ruin. Without goods or payment, they reasoned, how could they hope to continue? To limit the damage, they thought it wise to shut down almost half the shops throughout the city. The people, quick to take fright, concluded that the trouble would soon spread to all other areas of commerce. The ensuing panic forced the duke to offer large privileges to members of every guild, draining his coffers, and weakening his position with the Ghibellines. And all because of one small ship and a few rolls of silk and wool!

The duke had no intent to cause such alarm, but the lesson is clear: Those who willingly cause such mayhem can reap the greatest rewards, for they control when and how such eruptions occur, and they are able to anticipate the people’s response. The Overseer, together with the Prefect of the economic realm, must therefore determine a single area within trade and commerce that can bring the same response as the wool and silk trade in Milan. As the demagogue must read the hearts of men, so this Prefect must understand the natural vicissitudes of economy, using that knowledge to master one small area of trade. And like the demagogue, this Prefect will need years of experience and training to make this decision. Thus, while the demagogue gathers his followers, so the economist (again, a word of my own making) establishes himself within the most powerful circles of commerce. When the moment is right—that is, when the moment meets the demands of the other realms—it will not be difficult to send the state into economic panic.

 

But what of the social realm? How might a Prefect create havoc there? The few examples I have been able to collect from history lie entirely on the side of fortune (or God’s will), and have nothing to do with the plans of men. Certainly none but the Almighty rains pestilence and plague upon humanity, and no matter how clever and wise men become in the ways of disease and death, it is unlikely that they will ever seek to create such afflictions. Yet there is a subtler way to prepare the social ground for a new state; a way that calls for drastic change and thus might well be likened to a sort of chaos.

I have explained that this realm finds its base in education: to control education is to hold the social realm in one’s hands. Thus, the change must occur within the halls of learning. It follows that, for this change to have any influence over the populace, the educational institution that imparts its message must be widespread. Unfortunately, we must admit that at this moment no such institution exists.

Unless we look to the most holy Catholic Church as a beacon of learning. Within its sacred walls, men’s hearts may be altered, directed, and encouraged to reshape the world. Were it not for the mighty institution that emanates from Rome, it would take decades, if not centuries, to set in place a means to touch so many hearts and minds. And within those halls, an upheaval of sorts must take place. The Church must expand its vision so that it may guide men not only toward eternal salvation but also toward an enduring state here on earth. I would not be so forthright, nor would I risk the brand of impiety, were there no other institution so well suited to the demands of longevity and stability. Perhaps in days to come, some such educational institution may arise to release the Church from this heavy burden. Until that day, however, Rome must take up the reins and lead with an iron fist. Beat back the heretics and muster the strength of her faithful. To do so, she must revitalize her means of guiding the people and develop a new way of learning, a way to inspire passion and devotion to a well-dictated stability.

I do not speak without just cause. We need only look to any number of German states to understand the imminent peril. Already, a great danger has appeared in the form of a rebel priest, a man who strives to wrest authority from its rightful place. If a single man may turn the wills of so many to heresy, imagine the strength of the true Church to determine the actions of men.

It is well understood that the ways to Heaven and the ways to a stable state require separate instruction. Yet Rome must recognize that such instruction may come from the same source. It would be blasphemy to claim that the Church was meant to take as its mission the affairs of this world. But I do not make such a claim. Rather, I believe that a stable state in no way contravenes the higher end of eternal salvation and that the Church may counsel both without contradiction. The words of Aquinas, William of Occam, Duns Scotus, Peter Lombard—these schoolmen gave shape to this mission centuries ago. For them, reason and faith fight an eternal battle. Therefore the universities, Cathedral schools, and monasteries devoted themselves to questions surrounding that struggle; a struggle that continues today and that remains the test of men’s devotion to the Holy Spirit.

But now a new topic sits atop the table and demands equal consideration: power, whose own struggles test men’s resolve in the political and economic realms. One educator must, therefore, develop this new area of teaching and alter certain institutions within the Church. The care of the Spirit should remain in the hands of the larger Church. But reverence for political and economic expedience should become the domain of this new area. It should not be difficult to see how the educator may serve the Church at large without threat. Indeed, when men live secure in a stable and long-lasting earthly peace, they should have all the more passion to devote to the achievement of eternal bliss.

Is this, then, a call for chaos within the social realm? Will there come a moment when the Overseer counsels a sudden movement, a lightning action to topple the existing realm? No. It would be difficult to liken the change within the social realm to those required within the political and economic realms. The moment of upheaval here comes much earlier, at the very instant one man determines to take control of education in the name of supremacy. At its onset, this new venture will seem aberrant to those who take any notice of it. Yet they will dismiss it, see nothing in it to cause alarm, for it will appear to have limited influence. Much like the heretical sects that arise from time to time, the new schools will at first seem to pose no threat. Imagine the people’s surprise when, propelled into chaos by the political and economic realms, they see a small army of young men fully trained to take the state in an entirely new direction. Then these unenlightened ones will have no choice but to embrace the new way much in the way a drowning man reaches for a single piece of driftwood to escape the clutches of death.

 

Before describing how the three realms may work together to create chaos, I must insist that there may be no need to combine such upheavals. I have noted that panic in one realm is not likely to create the proper conditions from which to build a stable state. But there will be those rare occasions, those singular events that place leaders in a position of uncommon opportunity. Much like Messer Niccolò’s prince, these leaders will have fortune to thank for their circumstances. For those who sit well with fate (and who have prepared themselves within the three realms), they need only browse through the pages that follow, for they stand ready to build.

For those not so fortunate, we must recall that one or two of the realms may take the lead when instigating chaos. The social realm usually acts to stabilize, rather than to stir chaos. Yet all three must place their efforts together; otherwise, the singular act in one realm will prove fruitless to the well-being of the state in general. Before any action can be taken, therefore, all three Prefects must be in a position to rule the course of events within their own realms. Much of the preparation of these men will have occurred individually over a long period of tutelage, but the closer they come to the moment of eruption, the more they must act together with one another.