Liminal Dialogues is our weekly exercise in building theory by wandering: Gabriele and Nicolas think out loud through whatever they happen to be reading and see what holds. This week it is Thomas More’s Utopia, Francesco Patrizi’s meritocratic republic and Will Manidis’s Commanding Heights. The wandering includes the problems with More’s island monastery turned polity, why every projection of AI-driven power still rests on place-based trust, and why its possible to live within a society in which citizenship costs nothing, but it isn’t possible to build one. [00:00] Nicolas: Okay, Gabriele. So, like all great architecture, the mother of all the arts, an architect would argue, the Hall of the Nine in Siena’s Palazzo Pubblico has really thrown us on a wild goose chase that has been extremely productive. And somehow the hunch of this reference we’ve known for a long time, of Lorenzetti’s frescoes in that room, has, I guess, prompted a whole concretization of theory that has been long coming, right? And this week, I think maybe one of the things that’s important: I mean, we both heard that podcast that you shared by James Hankins, the author of Virtue Politics and Political Meritocracy in Renaissance Italy. He’s really excited about his discovery of Francesco Patrizi, the unsung hero of Italian early modern political theory. But I’ve been reading Thomas More’s Utopia, and you’ve been reading Commanding Heights, right? The recent... I’m blanking on the authors. Little recent publication by? [01:40] Gabriele: Yeah, it’s the new hottest PDF on X, by Will Manidis. [01:45] Nicolas: By Will Manidis, yeah. And I think somehow we need to square off those three things. Maybe I’ll walk you through a little bit of my thoughts on Utopia, but it just seems like there is this genre in the early modern period in which the state is the size of a territory, right? There’s many city-states or small states, and all the questions about, in this moment of great... there’s lots of violence and corruption, and there’s a lot of change going about. There’s a lot of questions of how to build great political projects, how to educate princes into becoming great statesmen, and with a, I think, medieval idealism, but also maybe modern Machiavellian pragmatism, right? And reading Utopia has been really interesting in that sense, in that first and foremost, Utopia is this satirical story about an island in which people live and govern themselves in this very peculiar way. It’s an ideal society that is described in the book. And it’s written actually not far from when Machiavelli’s writing The Prince, right? And also, so I think with New Atlantis, which we already discussed, I felt like I had to read Utopia, because after New Atlantis, Utopia felt like that definitive source. And now I’m realizing it’s not, but there’s more and more. So maybe let me just go through the story real quick, right? There’s this traveler that More encounters, I think somewhere in Holland, and he tells them about having been to the Americas and having lost himself along the way to go to this place called Utopia, where he lived for five years. And the book is divided into two parts. The first part, in which this Raphael guy... they’re at dinner and they’re talking about how he looks so wise and whatnot, and people are encouraging him to be at the service of princes, and he’s debating whether there’s any use in philosophers serving princes, right? Since princes basically have all the opposite instincts of what a philosopher thinks they should have. And then basically this Raphael guy tells the story of Utopia. And then it ends. It’s a wild story, but it ends with More saying, wow, that was a great story. I’m not sure I agree with the whole thing, but it’s too late to engage Raphael. Dinner’s over, let’s just go home, right? And so it ends with revealing, I think, a satirical quality. But it’s a very interesting utopian or idealistic description of a territory and of a polity, the dimension of a territory, because it’s different from New Atlantis, right? New Atlantis is the story of a class that somehow is at the service of this polity in this island lost somewhere in the ocean. Whereas Utopia, I think it’s more like a description of a monastic republic, right? Where it’s not that there’s a ruling class that has all these peculiar behaviors and to which average people can ascend and voluntarily join that class somehow and acquire the behaviors and the privileges of it. It’s actually a society where everyone is described... there is hierarchy, but everyone is somehow described as having behaviors that are in a way as radical as those of maybe what you could say of this academic class of New Atlantis, right? And so more than maybe an ideal polity, it’s actually like a description of a monastic republic, like Mount Athos, right? Only that More doesn’t... the family is the basic unit of this society, right? People don’t even vote individually, they actually operate as family units, right? And so there’s no property rights. There’s no money, basically. And all of these people live in these little small communities of about 6,000 families along this moon-shaped island, and they all share resources and they all work six hours a day instead of however many. And everyone is super rigorous and everyone dresses the same except the priests, and everyone’s super somehow pious and bound to the land. And there’s some interesting mechanisms, like people rotate between the city and the country to maintain a cohesion between rural people and urban people, which I thought was kind of cool. But I think for me, I mean, More’s comment at the end, which emphasizes the satirical element of the genre, maybe was a cure [unclear], but reading through the whole thing, it just feels somehow absurd, right? In the sense that whilst you have family as a unit, it feels like maybe the closest real thing to Utopia that I’ve seen really is Shakerism, right? Where people do live without money, without private property, within this system. But they don’t have children, and it’s voluntary; most people entered voluntarily, right? And so you can have a rank within the society, but you can’t control any real... none of the resources are ever yours. All you can aspire to is rank, to govern the resources of the whole community. But with that, whilst you keep thinking of it as something where there is a family unit, none of it works, right? Because there isn’t the nesting of interests that makes up a real society. The civic, civil component of a society somehow just can’t be really managed, right, without property or without money. And that’s something that I think, well, in New Atlantis again there’s a distinction, but I think in the other maybe book that of course I was thinking of while reading these things, which is Plato’s Republic. That is another picture of an entire polity the size of a city-state that’s very similar to this. It’s not satirical, I would say. But yet again, there’s the whole question... I think Plato’s more implicitly engaging the fact that there are nested interests within society. And so he says, okay, we take the elite and we have them basically sever the relationship of parent-child, and then we educate them in this very specific way. And then they govern as these philosopher kings, right? But then everyone else is just a normal person. And I think, for me, I mean, there’s many, many takeaways, and there’s some very interesting things about incentive designs, population control, all sorts of things. But I think in relation to a lot of our topics, what I thought was fascinating is that this is a satire, but it was remarkably close to, I think, what many of the people that do things like territorial regeneration today are after, right? Where they’re after this image of a place and restoring it, recreating it, reinventing it, or whatever it is. And then they’re not designing for incentives, which is our whole thing of protocolization. It’… This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit liminalfutures.substack.com