In times of public naiveté and showy bravado, it is worth remembering Niccolò Machiavelli, who did not write for angels, but for rulers of flesh, blood, and ambition. "One must be a lion to terrify wolves and a fox to recognize their traps." The phrase has traversed centuries like an unsettling mirror: it's not enough to have strength; you need to know when to use it. It's not enough to be cunning; you need to know when to conceal it.
The lion impresses. Its mane resolves debates before they even begin. There are times when hesitation is costly and indecision feeds the wolves. Those opportunists who sniff out weakness like hunting dogs. In those moments, the roar is not vanity, it's survival. Authority, when necessary, is not tyranny; it's protection of what needs to remain standing.
But politics, and life, are not just sunny clearings. There are narrow paths, full of invisible snares, where brute force only pulls the trigger of its own downfall. That's when the fox appears, with its calculated steps, its keen sense of smell, its wary prudence. It doesn't confront the trap; it circumvents it. It doesn't display power; it manages it.
The drama begins when the skin is shed at the wrong moment. The lion, too proud to suspect the ground he treads on, falls into the pit dug by discreet hands. The fox, too cunning to assert itself when necessary, ends up cornered by those who fear no subtlety. Strength without intelligence becomes brutality; cunning without firmness degenerates into cowardice.
There are governments that roar when they should listen. There are leaders who conspire when they should decide. There are citizens who confuse prudence with omission and courage with spectacle. Ultimately, Machiavelli's lesson is not an invitation to cleverness, as cynics like to say, but an appeal to strategic sensitivity: to perceive the timing of things. History is merciless to those who miss the mark.
Being a lion requires courage; being a fox requires intelligence. Switching between the two requires maturity. This rare virtue cannot be learned from self-help manuals or social media. It takes discernment to recognize when silence is more eloquent than a shout, and when a shout is the only language understood.
In the real world, where wolves don't wear uniforms and traps aren't marked, surviving, and governing, is an art of rhythm. The mistake isn't in choosing the lion or the fox. The mistake is in ignoring the moment. And the moment, like power, doesn't forgive the distracted.
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Grand Orient of Paraná
Most Serene Grand Master – Vladimir Pires Martins
G. Secretariat of Communication and Press – Luís Fernando da Silva Dias
