Chapter 2: Fortune and the Riverbank: Preparing in Calm Weeks

The Week the System Went Down

Rui is thirty-nine and leads the night shift in a large warehouse that stores and ships household goods. For most of the year, the work is steady. Orders come in, his team picks and packs them, the lorries leave on time. Rui is good at keeping things running smoothly, and his managers trust him. In the quiet months of early spring, his shift often finishes its work an hour early, and the team spends the last hour chatting, tidying and drinking coffee.

Every year, the busiest period comes in the weeks before the winter holidays, when orders double. This year, in the middle of that rush, the warehouse computer system failed for two nights. The scanners stopped working. Nobody could see which orders were waiting or where items were stored. Rui and his team tried to work from printed lists, but there were no up-to-date lists, and nobody had practised working without the system. Hundreds of orders were delayed. Customers complained. Rui's manager was furious.

After the crisis, Rui felt terrible. He kept thinking that it had been bad luck. Nobody could have predicted that the system would fail at the worst possible moment. "It was just fortune," he told his partner. "Nothing I could have done." But as the weeks passed, he began to doubt this. He remembered all those quiet spring nights, when his team had finished early and spent the hour drinking coffee. Could they have used that time to prepare? Could they have practised a backup plan, printed regular lists or learned where things were stored without the scanners?

When Rui talked to a colleague who led the day shift, he learned something that made him even more thoughtful. Her shift had also been affected by the failure, but much less. Two years earlier, after a smaller system problem, she had insisted that her team practise a paper-based backup once every few months. It had seemed like a waste of time to many of them. When the system failed this time, her team knew exactly what to do.

Rui's experience touches one of Machiavelli's most famous ideas: that fortune controls part of our lives, but not all of it, and that the part we control is often decided in calm times, long before the storm arrives.

Fortune Governs Half

In chapter 25 of The Prince, Machiavelli takes up an old question. Many people in his time, he notes, believed that the world was governed so completely by fortune and by forces beyond human understanding that human wisdom could do nothing to change it. On this view, there is no point in working hard to prepare or to plan. We should simply let chance govern us.

Machiavelli admits that he has sometimes felt this way himself, especially when he has seen great and unexpected changes that no one could have foreseen. But he does not accept it. So that our free will is not completely extinguished, he says, he judges that fortune may be the arbiter of half of our actions, but that it leaves the other half, or close to it, to be governed by us (The Prince, chapter 25).

This is a balanced and hopeful view. It does not pretend that we control everything. Accidents happen, systems fail, economies change, illnesses come and people make decisions that affect us without asking. But it also does not surrender to fate. A great part of what happens in our lives, perhaps half, depends on our own choices, our own effort and our own preparation. Machiavelli used a word for this human contribution that is hard to translate. In this book, I will call it ability: not only skill, but the energy, courage and good sense with which a person meets their circumstances. It is not the same as moral virtue, though the words look alike in some languages.

For an ordinary worker, this view is very useful. It warns us against two opposite mistakes. One mistake is to believe that everything depends on us, so that every setback becomes a personal failure. The other mistake is to believe that nothing depends on us, so that we stop trying to prepare or improve. The truth, as Machiavelli saw it, lies between: fortune has its share, and we have ours.

Machiavelli's own life illustrates both halves. Fortune was cruel to him. The fall of his republic, which he had served loyally, was not his doing, and neither was the plot that led to his imprisonment. Yet in the years that followed, he used the half that remained to him. He read, he thought, he wrote and he kept in touch with friends who might one day help him. The books he wrote in those years of bad fortune are the reason we still know his name. Fortune took his post. It could not take his ability.

It also invites a practical question. If roughly half of what happens is up to us, which half? Where can our effort make the most difference? Machiavelli's answer comes in a famous image.

The River and the Embankments

Machiavelli compares fortune to a violent river. When such a river floods, he writes, it covers the plains, tears up trees and buildings and carries away earth from one place to another. Everyone runs from it, and everyone gives way before its force, unable to resist. And yet, he says, this does not mean that people cannot prepare. When the weather is calm, they can build dikes and embankments, so that when the river rises again, the water flows away through a channel, or its force is not so wild and so harmful (The Prince, chapter 25).

The same is true of fortune, Machiavelli continues. Fortune shows its power where no ability has been organized to resist it. It turns its force where it knows that no embankments have been built to hold it back. In other words, the damage done by bad luck depends partly on how well we prepared before it came.

In the chapter just before this one, Machiavelli makes a related point. He is discussing rulers who lost their states, and he says that they should not blame fortune but their own idleness. In quiet times, they never thought that things could change. This, he says, is a common fault among people: not to think about storms when the weather is fine. Then, when bad times came, they thought only of running away, not of defending themselves (The Prince, chapter 24).

These two passages fit Rui's story exactly. The system failure was fortune: a flood he could not prevent. But the damage it did depended on whether embankments had been built in calm times. The day-shift leader had built them, with her practice sessions. Rui had not, and his quiet spring nights had passed without a thought of storms. The river was the same for both. The damage was not.

It is worth noticing what Machiavelli does not say. He does not say that a well-built embankment stops the river. Floods still come, and they still do damage. He says that the water flows away through a channel, or that its force is less wild and less harmful. This is a modest promise, and an honest one. Preparation does not make us invulnerable. It makes the difference between a flood that destroys and a flood that we can live through and recover from.

Machiavelli adds another image in the same chapter, comparing fortune to a woman who must be handled boldly. This image reflects the attitudes of his time, and we can leave it aside. The river and the embankments are the parts of his thinking that have lasted, and they apply to every kind of work and every kind of life.

Folake and the Quiet Months

Folake is thirty-six and works as a self-employed photographer. She photographs weddings, family events and products for small businesses. Her work comes in waves. In spring and summer, she is extremely busy, often working seven days a week. In winter, the work slows down, and some weeks she has almost nothing to do.

For her first few years, Folake treated the quiet months as a kind of holiday. She rested, saw friends and waited for spring. But one winter, a family emergency meant that she could not work for most of the following spring, the busiest season. Without income from that season, and with nothing set aside, she faced several very difficult months. She also lost some regular clients, who found other photographers while she was unavailable.

After that experience, Folake began to think of her quiet months differently. She realized that they were her calm weather, the time to build embankments. She still rests in winter, because rest matters. But she also uses part of that time to prepare. She updates her website and her portfolio. She learns new editing techniques. She contacts past clients to let them know she is available for the coming year. She has built relationships with two other photographers, so that each can cover for the other in an emergency. And, as far as her income allows, she sets something aside in good months for the quiet ones.

Two years later, Folake broke her wrist in a fall and could not hold a camera for six weeks during the summer. It was painful and frustrating. But this time, the damage was much smaller. One of her photographer friends covered her bookings, and she covered his work in return the following winter. Her clients stayed with her. The flood had come, but the embankments held.

Folake's story shows that embankments come in many forms. Some are skills. Some are relationships. Some are practical arrangements. Each one is built in calm times, when there seems to be no need for it. That is exactly why so few people build them, and why those who do are so much better protected when the river rises.

Folake also noticed that her preparations changed how she felt in the quiet months. In the past, winter had brought a low hum of worry, because she knew that she was unprotected. Now, when the bookings slowed, she felt calmer, because she was doing something useful with the time and because she knew that some of her embankments were already in place. Preparation, done in moderation, is not only a defence against future floods. It is also a remedy for present worry.

Mikael and the Machines

Mikael is fifty and works as a maintenance technician in a factory that makes packaging. His job is to keep the machines running. For years, the factory worked on a simple principle: fix machines when they break. Mikael was very good at emergency repairs, and he was often called in at night when a machine stopped. He was proud of his ability to solve problems under pressure.

A new production manager, however, introduced a different approach. She asked Mikael to spend part of each week on regular checks and small repairs, replacing parts before they wore out and cleaning machines before dirt caused damage. Mikael was sceptical. It seemed like a waste of time to fix things that were not broken. And he enjoyed being the hero who saved the day in an emergency.

But over the following year, Mikael noticed that there were fewer emergencies. Machines broke down less often, and when they did, the problems were smaller. He was called in at night much less. At first, he missed the excitement. Then he began to appreciate the calm. He also realized that the factory was producing more, with less waste, because the machines were running steadily.

Mikael also began to apply the same idea to his own career. He had heard that the factory planned to install new, computer-controlled machines in a few years. Many of the older technicians were worried that they would not be able to maintain them. Mikael decided not to wait. In the evenings, he took a course on the control systems used in modern machines. It was hard work, and he was the oldest person in the class. But when the new machines arrived, he was one of the few technicians who already understood them. He was asked to train the others.

"I used to think my value was in fixing disasters," Mikael says. "Now I think it is in preventing them. That goes for the machines, and it goes for me too." Regular maintenance is one of the clearest examples of building embankments. It is dull, it is rarely praised and its success is measured by things that do not happen. But it is often the difference between a small problem and a flood.

Noemi Before the Agency Closed

Noemi is twenty-six and works as a junior designer in a small agency that creates advertising for local businesses. She enjoys her job and gets on well with her colleagues. The agency seemed stable, and Noemi had no plans to leave. But a friend who had lost her job suddenly the year before gave her some advice: "Always keep your portfolio ready, and always keep in touch with people, even when you do not need anything."

Noemi took the advice, though it seemed unnecessary at the time. Every few months, she added her best recent work to her portfolio. She kept in touch with former classmates and with designers she met at events. She occasionally took on small freelance projects in her free time, to keep her skills varied. None of this felt urgent. It was simply something she did, the way some people keep a spare key with a neighbour.

Then, without warning, the agency lost its two largest clients in the same month. The owner announced that she could no longer afford to keep all the staff, and that Noemi and two others would have to leave within six weeks. Noemi's two colleagues were shocked and had no idea where to begin. Their portfolios were out of date, and they had lost touch with most of their contacts.

Noemi was shocked too, but she was ready. Within a week, she had sent her updated portfolio to several contacts. One of them, a former classmate, worked at a larger agency that was looking for a designer. Noemi had an interview within two weeks and a new job before her six weeks were over. She also helped her two colleagues update their portfolios and introduced them to some of her contacts.

Noemi's story shows that embankments can be personal as well as practical. A ready portfolio, a network of contacts and a range of skills are all forms of protection against the floods of working life. They cost little in calm times. They are worth a great deal when the river rises. And, as Noemi found, they can also help others when the flood reaches them.

Practical Steps: Building Embankments

The first step is to recognize your calm weather. Every working life has calmer periods: quiet seasons, slower weeks, the hour at the end of a shift when the work is done. These are the times when embankments can be built. Notice them, and decide to use at least part of them for preparation.

The second step is to imagine possible floods. Think honestly about what could go wrong in your working life. A system could fail. Your workplace could close. You could fall ill. Your industry could change. A key colleague could leave. You do not need to dwell on these possibilities or become anxious about them. You only need to see them clearly enough to prepare.

The third step is to choose a few embankments. For each possible flood, ask: what could I do now, in calm times, to reduce the damage if it came? It might be learning a backup method, as the day-shift leader did. It might be keeping your skills and portfolio up to date, as Noemi did. It might be building relationships with people who could help, as Folake did. It might be setting aside what you can, if your circumstances allow. Choose a few that are realistic for you.

The fourth step is to maintain regularly. Like Mikael's machines, many parts of working life benefit from regular care: updating skills, checking that systems work, keeping in touch with people, reviewing plans. Small, regular effort is usually more effective than large, occasional bursts.

The fifth step is to learn from floods when they come. When something goes wrong, after the immediate crisis is over, ask: what embankment would have helped? Rui did this after the system failure. He and his team now practise a paper-based backup every three months, and they keep printed maps of where items are stored. The next time the system failed, briefly, his shift barely slowed down.

The sixth step is to share your embankments. Many preparations work better when they are shared with colleagues, friends or family. A backup plan known only to you is weaker than one your whole team has practised. A network of mutual support, like Folake's arrangement with another photographer, protects everyone in it.

Embankments, Not Walls Against Life

There are two misunderstandings to avoid. The first is to turn preparation into constant anxiety. Some people, once they think about possible floods, cannot stop thinking about them. They prepare for everything, worry about everything and never enjoy the calm weather at all. This is not what Machiavelli meant. Embankments are built so that we can live calmly, not so that we can live in fear. Once a sensible embankment is built, you can rest beside it.

A useful test is to ask whether a preparation makes you feel steadier or more frightened. Updating a portfolio, practising a backup plan or learning a new skill usually leaves people feeling more capable. Endlessly imagining disasters, checking and rechecking plans or refusing to enjoy calm times usually leaves them more anxious. If your preparations are making you more frightened, you have probably built enough, and the next useful step is rest. If worry about the future is constant and heavy, it may help to talk with a doctor or another qualified professional.

The second misunderstanding is to believe that every flood can be stopped by personal preparation. Some floods are too large for any individual. When a whole industry collapses, when an economy falls into crisis or when a workplace treats its staff unfairly, no amount of personal preparation can fully protect everyone. In such cases, the effects are not a sign of personal failure. They may call for shared action, such as working with colleagues, seeking support from organizations that represent workers or using official channels to find out your rights.

It is also worth remembering that rest is itself a kind of embankment. Folake still rests in winter. A person who uses every calm moment for preparation, and never recovers from the busy times, becomes exhausted, and exhaustion makes us more vulnerable to the next flood, not less. Building embankments should be a part of calm weather, not all of it.

A Short Exercise: Your Embankment Plan

This exercise helps you choose a few practical preparations for your working life. It takes about twenty minutes, and it is best done during a calm period.

Take a page and write three headings: "Possible floods", "Embankments" and "When". Under the first heading, write three possible difficulties that could affect your working life in the next year or two. Choose realistic ones, not the most dramatic you can imagine. For example: "A busy season with a system failure." "Losing my job if my workplace closes." "Being unable to work for a few weeks because of illness." "A big change in the tools or methods of my work."

Under the second heading, next to each possible flood, write one or two embankments you could build. Keep them small and practical. "Practise the paper backup with my team." "Update my portfolio and contact list." "Ask a colleague to learn my key tasks, and learn hers." "Take a short course on the new system."

Under the third heading, write when you will build each embankment. Choose a specific time during a calm period: a particular week, a particular day each month, the last hour of a quiet shift. Write it in your calendar if you use one.

If you work with others, consider sharing one of your embankments with them. Ask a colleague whether they would like to practise a backup plan together, or offer to learn part of their work in exchange for teaching them part of yours. Shared embankments are often stronger than private ones, and they build trust within a team at the same time.

Finally, at the bottom of the page, write one sentence about how you will rest during calm times, so that preparation does not take over your whole life. For example: "Two quiet evenings a week are for rest only." Keep the page somewhere you will see it, and review it every few months. When Rui did this exercise, his first flood was "system failure in the busy season", and his embankment was "paper backup practice every three months, starting in March". His rest sentence was: "The last half hour of quiet shifts is still for coffee, after the backup practice is done."

Chapter Summary

Machiavelli believed that fortune governs about half of our actions and leaves the other half, or close to it, to us (The Prince, chapter 25). He compared fortune to a violent river that floods the plains, and argued that in calm times people can build embankments so that its force is less harmful. Fortune shows its power where no ability has been organized to resist it. Rulers who lost their states, he said, should blame not fortune but their own failure to think about storms in calm weather (The Prince, chapter 24).

Rui after the system failure, Folake in her quiet months, Mikael with his machines and Noemi before her agency closed all found that the damage of bad fortune depends partly on what is built in calm times. Embankments take many forms: skills, backup plans, relationships, practical arrangements and regular maintenance. They should help us live calmly, not anxiously, and not every flood can be stopped by personal preparation alone.

In the next chapter, we will look at one particular kind of embankment that Machiavelli valued above all others: building abilities that are truly your own.