Tuesday, August 25, 2026
Third Opinion

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Court Rules Bees Are Animals; Administration Seeks Approval for Mail Voting Order

When a Prince Starts Counting Voters Like Bees

Turning mail ballots into a privilege dispensed from the center is a classic move to maintain power—but in a republic it is also a test of how far corruption has gone.


A ruler who orders “state citizenship lists” and tells the postal service who shall receive a mail ballot is not speaking of letters, but of power. Here the stage is clear enough: an administration asks the highest court to clear the way for such an order, and the court, I am told, allows the pursuit “for now.” That small phrase contains a whole drama. In my time, when a Signoria adjusted who could enter the Great Council, we all understood that they were choosing their future judges and accusers. Whoever counts the voters, if he can also narrow the list, soon counts the victories.

As I wrote in *The Prince* (in W. K. Marriott’s translation), opportunity and capacity must meet: fortuna offers the river in flood; virtù builds the dykes. A leader who fears defeat by mail chooses, naturally, to raise dykes around the mail. He does not abolish voting; he defines who is citizen enough, paper enough, trusted enough to vote by post, and hands the key to a loyal office like the postal service. This is not piety about the purity of elections. It is the effectual truth: to maintain the state as he understands it, he tightens his grasp on the channels through which the people express themselves.

When courts step in “for now,” they do what all prudential powers do: they buy time. The Supreme Court here does not yet bless or damn the scheme; it simply refuses, at this moment, to stop it. In Florence, we would say the magistrates have chosen to let the thing ripen, to see if facts on the ground make their later choice easier. Judges, too, have survival incentives. They weigh not only law but also reputation, the temper of the people, the reaction of the great, and the danger of appearing to decide the prince’s very title to rule. They often prefer to seem neutral while power rearranges itself around them.

The order itself is an attempt to arm a reform. A prince who wishes to restrict mail voting but has only sermons and press conferences is an unarmed prophet. One who adds “citizenship lists” and vests the postal service with the power to decide who gets a ballot brings law and bureaucracy to his side. As I argued when I distinguished arms of one’s own from mercenaries, what matters is whether the instruments obey you at the decisive hour. A list compiled under your authority and an agency that depends on your favor are more reliable than moral exhortations about fraud, which evaporate as soon as the wind shifts.

You may think the little quarrel over bees in West Virginia belongs to another world. A man wishes to keep bees; the city bans beekeeping; a judge first says the city lacks authority, then an appellate court says bees are indeed animals and cities may regulate them. Yet this, too, is a contest over definitions, over who may say what counts as an “animal,” what falls under “municipal power.” Today the bees, tomorrow the ballots. Wherever law hinges on a word—animal, citizen, residence, eligibility—the one who fixes the meaning arms himself without drawing a sword. The strongest battalions in modern states are often made of definitions.

The danger, for a republic, is not that rulers seek to shape electoral rules. They always have and always will. The danger is when such shaping proceeds without open tumults, without the people’s voice. In the *Discourses* (as translated by Ninian Hill Thomson), I praised Rome because its conflicts between Senate and people produced better laws than any supposed harmony could. If the people accept, in silence, that access to mail ballots is narrowed by lists they did not debate and criteria they do not control, this is not prudence; it is the sign of a people already far gone in corruption, accustomed to letting the great manage what belongs to all.

Still, I will not pretend that a ruler who fears displacement should refrain, on moral grounds alone, from such measures. To expect this is to desire imaginary princes, not real ones. The serious question is whether he judges the balance shrewdly: whether the gain in control outweighs the hatred such moves may breed among those who feel excluded or manipulated, whether institutions he bends today will be there to support him tomorrow. If he overreaches, he arms not his own reform but his enemies, who will later use the same courts and agencies to undo him. In politics, as in beekeeping, those who disturb the hive must calculate very carefully how many stings they can survive.

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From the works cited

  • The PrinceOccasione: the new prince needs the matter (a crisis, a vacuum) and the virtù to shape it — opportunity without capacity is a tragedy, capacity without opportunity a biography nobody writes.
  • The PrinceArms of one's own versus mercenaries and auxiliaries: power borrowed is power owed, and it will be collected at the worst moment.
  • The PrinceAppearances are a hard currency of power: most people judge by the eyes rather than the hands, by results rather than processes.