There is no surer sign of decay in a country than to see the

“There is no surer sign of decay in a country than to see the rites of religion held in contempt.” — so warned Niccolò Machiavelli, the Florentine thinker whose insight into power and human nature has outlived the empires of his age. This line, drawn from his Discourses on Livy, speaks not merely of religion in its sacred form, but of virtue, order, and the moral foundations upon which civilizations stand. Beneath its solemn cadence lies a truth the ancients knew well: that when a people cease to revere what is holy — whether that holiness be found in gods, laws, or principles — the pillars of their nation begin to crumble, and decay spreads unseen until the ruin is complete.

The origin of this quote emerges from the heart of Machiavelli’s political philosophy. Writing in the early 16th century, in an Italy fractured by foreign invasions and internal corruption, he sought to understand why republics and kingdoms rise to glory and fall to disgrace. In The Discourses, he reflected upon the Roman Republic, whose early strength, he observed, came not from conquest alone, but from a shared reverence for the sacred — for the rituals, laws, and moral customs that bound citizens together. Religion, to Machiavelli, was not only a matter of divine worship; it was the moral compass of the state, the invisible hand that taught men to sacrifice their desires for the common good.

When he speaks of the rites of religion, Machiavelli refers to those acts and symbols that sustain a people’s collective spirit — the ceremonies, traditions, and shared values that give a nation its soul. To hold these in contempt, he warns, is to cut the root that feeds civic virtue. For without reverence, there can be no discipline; without belief in something higher than oneself, there can be no unity. Thus, when the sacred becomes a jest, and the holy a spectacle, the decay of the state has already begun, even if its walls still stand. The fall of faith, to Machiavelli, precedes the fall of nations.

History gives countless echoes of his warning. Consider the late Roman Empire, once strong in discipline and devotion to its gods and laws, but later hollowed by luxury, doubt, and cynicism. The temples that once inspired awe became empty shells, their rituals mocked by those who sought only pleasure and power. Civic virtue gave way to selfish ambition; patriotism dissolved into decadence. When the sacred flame of the Vestals was extinguished, so too was Rome’s moral fire. In this, we see the truth of Machiavelli’s words — that contempt for the sacred is not merely impiety; it is the first symptom of a nation’s spiritual death.

Yet Machiavelli’s lesson extends beyond religion itself. His words speak also of respect for meaning, of the reverence every society must hold for its guiding principles. A people need not all worship the same god, but they must share a sense of awe before the unseen — before justice, truth, and the order that sustains life. When mockery replaces reverence, and cynicism replaces faith, society loses its moral gravity. The citizens who once sacrificed for the whole begin to live only for themselves, and corruption spreads like rot beneath painted marble.

And yet, the philosopher does not counsel blind obedience to priests or dogma. Rather, he calls for balance — for religion to serve as the soul of civic virtue, not as its master. Faith, when pure, ennobles; when corrupted, it enslaves. The decay he warns of is not caused by doubt, but by disdain — by the arrogance that sees nothing as sacred. To revere nothing is to be ruled by nothing higher than appetite. And where appetite reigns, tyranny soon follows, whether by a despot’s hand or the chaos of the crowd.

So, my child, remember the wisdom of the Florentine: guard the sacred flame within your nation, and within yourself. Do not scorn the rituals that bind your people together, nor the values that give life meaning. Cherish what is worthy of reverence — not because it is old, but because it uplifts the soul. A country that forgets gratitude, humility, and awe before the divine — however it conceives the divine — builds its own grave with hands of gold.

For in the end, Machiavelli reminds us that the health of a people lies not only in their armies or wealth, but in their spirit. When reverence dies, corruption rises. When faith — in God, in virtue, in goodness — is mocked, decay has already begun. But when the rites of reverence are kept, when a nation honors the higher over the lower, the eternal over the fleeting, then even in times of trial, it will endure. For it is not power that sustains nations, but the sacred, living heartbeat of belief.