In a piece of almost-forgotten history, a town in the Middle Ages was saved from a foreign aggressor by a mercenary, and the good folks of this small community wanted to reward this exceptional man for his heroic acts. Money? No, could never pay him enough. Honor? No, could never esteem him enough. One bright mind suggested that they kill him and worship him as a saint. So they did.
Otto von Bismarck, he of the contradictory contrarian opinions who almost single-handedly created the united state of Germany, was — in 1847 — a 32yo low-level deputy in search of a powerful patron. Rejecting members of the respective two-party system, von Bismarck chose the weakest and least powerful ally he could find … King Frederick William IV, an indecisive and malleable man often bullied into acquiescence. In 1851, after years of support and service to the king, von Bismarck was made a minister of the royal cabinet, and used his position to force the king’s hand to build up the military, stand up to his opposition, and establish himself as Prussia’s ruling monarch. The king died and was succeeded by his brother William, who did not stan for Otto and had every intention of dismissing von Bismarck from service. However, King William inherited the same problems as his dearly departed brother … enemies on both sides, weakness of spirit, malleability of spine … and once again von Bismarck made himself indispensable, standing with the weak king to make him strong, fend off threats, and bolster his power. Although the new king did not like von Bismarck he came to rely on his strength, and eventually made von Bismarck his prime minister, the true grey eminence, the iron claw that clutched the crown. After uniting the various states into one nation, von Bismarck convinced King William to be crowned emperor of Germany, while he himself became the imperial chancellor of the empire and knighted prince, the strong right hand of power.
If seeking to align oneself with power, it is best to avoid those already in power; the strong have no use for wise advisors but desire mere sycophants, the exchangeable, the replaceable, the disposable.
Wise counsel for the ambitious is to cultivate a relationship with weak rulers, those who need a decisive personality to make them stronger, thereby serving as their strength, their intellect, and their resilience, and who therefore cannot exercise their power without you. In making yourself indispensable, power can only be exercised through you, by your hand sheathed in a velvet glove.
Contemporary example: a supervisor constantly … appropriates … your ideas as her own, and management views her as an innovative and dynamic asset to the company. Rather than huff and puff and threaten to blow her house down, take her into your confidence, constantly running your thoughts through her, encourage her to present your collaborative projects as her own, while retaining some key elements of your ideas to yourself. Then plan a vacation right before she is to make an important presentation. In this manner, she becomes so reliant upon you that she cannot move forward and progress in your absence. You become the key to unlocking her success.
But never, ever, fling her dependency back into her face. Let it be the great unspoken, the silverback pachyderm in the room. People — especially those with power — do not like to feel wholly dependent upon others, and prefer to believe they are using people instead of the contrary.
Louis XI (1423 – 1483), the Spider King of France during the mid-15th century, was a strong adherent of astrology. Louis’s official court astrologer predicted that a woman would die within a few days (she did) and the king was so freaked that he ordered the astrologer killed, either because he could really predict the future or he had the woman murdered. The king summoned the astrologer to the castle and ordered his men to chuck the seir out of a high window on his command. Prior to giving the order, the king asked the court oracle one final question: if he knew when he would die. The astrologer replied, “Three days before you, my king.” Not only did the king not order the astrologer killed, he pampered him and showered him with lavish gifts and the best medical care available for the rest of his long, long life.
The astrologer was wrong, though. Louis XI predeceased his oracle by many years, but the end of the astrologer’s life was predicted to sharply coincide with the king’s own, and thus the longevity of the king was inextricably linked (in the king’s mind) to that of the seer, and thus the seer became indispensable to the king … in effect, the master became the slave.
Pope Julius II was Michelangelo’s patron, and the two argued over the pope’s marble tomb, resulting in the artist leaving Rome in a huff. Not only did the pope not fire Michelangelo but actually sought him out to apologize and ask him to return. The pope knew Michelangelo could find another patron; the pope could never find another Michelangelo. Again: the master becomes the slave.
To become indispensable, and exercise a key law of power, one must have a skill, talent, or ability that is difficult / if not impossible / to duplicate. Alternatively, one must become so entrenched in the activities, plans and actions of the master such that success is – if not impossible – extremely challenging.
Once the master is dependent upon the servant, the servant, even in a subservient role, can leverage power to the advantage.