Stories of Rome—not merely as a city but an exemplar of Western civilization’s grandeur—have echoed through the ages, mirroring our modern republic's impact on humanity. However, the United States has not wielded the sword of conquest to carve its empire. The commerce, the power of its military, and the allure of its cultural eminence have crowned it an unwitting emperor. Historically, the United States has been exalted as the shining city on the hill due to its abundant moral clarity, the strong rule of law, the checks and balances of its institutions, and the opportunities afforded by the American dream – the pursuit of property, wealth, and economic mobility.
Yet, like Rome, our country is strained under the weight of internal schisms and a populace grappling with a foreboding sense of decline, with many Americans ultimately believing their children will be worse off than they are. Barely more than a quarter of Americans say the American dream is still a reality1. Political tribalism looms large, casting long shadows over the land. For another election cycle, Donald Trump emerges— divisive, yet a symptom of deeper fissures rather than causation—a symptom, but not the disease itself.
Our parallels to ancient Rome, from which the Founders drew inspiration, are striking and sobering. Rome stood firm against external threats only to find itself undone by internal strife and a leadership crisis. Today, as then, the issues that will decide this election—immigration, the economy, and the very essence of national identity—echo the Roman populace's anxieties over citizenship, economic displacement, and the preservation of their republic.
Directly before Caesar’s ascent, Rome faced a crisis that was as much existential as it was merely political. The wealth gap between the gilded aristocracy and the common plebeian continued to grow as slaves poured into Rome due to the recent wars of aggression Rome waged abroad. As more and more slaves were imported to work the agricultural estates of the aristocracy, they were able to reduce their operational costs dramatically. The reliance on slave labor led to a significant depression in the wages for Roman citizens, who could not compete against the efficiency of the massive slave farms that also denied them job opportunities.
Upon returning from these wars, the Roman soldier discovered an unrecognizable world. His fight seemed to be for the benefit of everyone but himself; the land he had bled for now lay beneath the plow of those he had conquered. Chaos ensued. Many were forced to sell their family farms to these same aristocrats to survive and then move into the cities to find work; the aristocrats would buy the farm for nothing and then fill it full of more imported slaves. This resulted in many being quickly divested of their ancestral lands, which they bartered away for a pittance to the same slavers who filled it with more slaves, expediting the cycle of wage decline.
This created an enormous concentration of farmland in the hands of a few upper aristocrats, thus preventing economic mobility for Romans of lower social stations. Much like it is today, land was the biggest generator of wealth. The Romans who sold their land would have to depart for the city to find work—for a much-reduced standard of living. Mass migration into the cities by the plebs only exacerbated the economic malaise.
Dispossessed citizens in the cities would find themselves crammed into insalubrious apartments and ghettos, deprived of any opportunities, as, in the countryside, slave labor sustained the lifestyles of the wealthy. A permanent underclass of disgruntled natives and slaves emerged in Rome. At the same time, the affluent lived in luxury, reveling in gladiator fights, parties, orgies with sex slaves, asset inflation, and political maneuvering.
Enter Julius Caesar.
Julius Caesar grew up as a prominent and well-off member of the Roman elite. Yet, beneath this veneer of privilege, he was motivated by what may have been a lust for power but what appeared to many as a crusade against the gross disparities affecting Rome's Roman populace. Before he ever donned the laurels of dictatorship, Caesar was a figure of considerable intrigue within the patrician circles, his presence as polarizing to his fellow elites as it was captivating to the plebs.
He had an amusing narcissism yet was plagued by insecurity. He was embroiled in debts as vast as his ambitions—debts borne from his penchant for public games and sumptuous feasts designed to endear him to the masses—his penchant for luxury was unabashed and unapologetic, his over-the-top extravagance was a spectacle in itself, often involving ridiculous displays of gold. His personal life was as entertaining and controversial as the man himself, being thrice wedded and with a litany of sex scandals and broken hearts left in his wake.
Is the resemblance to Mr. Trump becoming quite clear?
I, and many others, whether it be those who voted for or against him, have erred in understanding the appeal of Donald Trump. Many wondered how Mr. Trump managed to get elected after attacking John McCain’s military service, criticizing just about everything, and how the “grab them by the pussy” comments didn’t mark the beginning of the end — let alone January 6th and the election denial. America is hardly Rome, and our present situation is more favorable in every metric than in the Roman Republic in its last days. However, the question is still asked: How come Mr. Trump is poised to make the most extraordinary political comeback in the history of the United States this fall?
When compared to Caesar, another populist strongman, it becomes pretty clear. Caesar's arrogance, scandalous behavior, and alleged threat to the institutions—boosted his support among his followers. His notoriety, rather than diminishing his appeal, augmented it—much like Mr. Trump seemingly emerging stronger than before with each scandal. For Caesar and Mr. Trump, their attacks on the institutions are not a mark of infamy but a badge of honor to their base. They found their strength in their vociferous crusade against the status quo, perceived by their supporters as indifferent or antagonistic to their welfare.
Mr. Trump's present presidential campaign, pitched as a story of martyrdom, mirrors the error committed by the Roman Senate when it declared Caesar an enemy of the state - a decision that ignited a civil war. In 59 B.C., amidst the Senate's fervent efforts to thwart his rise, Caesar secured the consulship, allying with Crassus and Pompey Magnus, the inaugural triumvirate, thus ushering in a calm period of peace in Rome. Nevertheless, as Caesar ventured into Gaul, embarking on campaigns of conquest, the aristocracy of Rome engaged in incessant political machinations, neglecting the deteriorating economic conditions that plagued the ordinary citizenry. The glory and wealth Caesar amassed abroad contrasted starkly with the stagnation at home, where the fruits of his conquests represented the sole trickle of prosperity to the lower strata of Roman society. So, while public sentiment had turned against the elites, sentiment towards Caesar remained positive.
By 51 B.C., the alliance between Caesar and Pompey dissolved — they became rivals. Caesar stood on the precipice of a daunting quandary; his adversaries in the Senate feared the end of his conquest, as they knew it would result in his return to power. They were not the only ones left in angst; Caesar knew he needed to ensure he again became a consul of Rome as if he remained merely a private citizen, his foes in the Senate would have him imprisoned or worse. Caesar recognized that his survival—political and literal—hinged on maintaining control over his legions.
Thus, all hell broke loose when the Senate issued its ultimatum in 50 B.C., demanding Caesar disband his forces without imposing the same condition upon Pompey. Caesar's legionnaires and many of the Roman commoners viewed the Senate's decree as a direct assault on their only champion and, by extension, upon themselves. Caesar wasted no time exploiting this sentiment, transforming his political persecution into a rallying cry for his cause.
Caesar chose to march on Rome. Accompanied by his steadfast legionaries, he journeyed to the banks of the Rubicon. This river, for all literal intents and purposes, is strategically inconsequential — but it marked the boundary of his legal command, and the crossing was a direct challenge to the Roman Republic's itself. Here, Caesar is alleged to have uttered the phrase “Alea iacta est”—the die is cast—as he led his forces towards Rome.
Crossing the Rubicon has transcended its literal historical origin to a metaphor for the point of no return. Caesar’s opponents were no match for his military genius – and few legions were willing to stand against him. Caesar emerged triumphant and eventually granted himself the title of dictator in perpetuity.
This month, Tom Schaller and Paul Waldman released a book “White Rural Rage”, which casts white rural Americans, the group that predominantly comprises the Trump base, as an existential threat to American democracy. Besides being blatantly insulting and derogatory, it is less subtle than the Roman Senate's indictment of Caesar - but it will ultimately serve the same purpose. By allowing for criticism of Trump to be not just a criticism of the man and his politics but a broad attack on the values, lifestyle, and political choices of his constituents, it will serve no purpose other than to reinforce the solidarity of the Trump base, much like with Caesar and his followers.
The fear of Mr. Trump and the perceived threat to the institutions have precipitated a strategy reminiscent of Machiavellianism, of ‘the ends justifying the means, ' and this has been made abundantly clear with the indictments Mr. Trump has faced—that seek to prevent his return to office. Some have speculated that his campaign is motivated by a desire to shield himself from legal jeopardy and exact vengeance on his followers' behalf.
Like Caesar, who was confronted with the prospect of incarceration by his political opponents, he sought the consulship as a bulwark against such a fate. Caesar and Mr. Trump, both figures perceived as threats to the status quo, find their fortunes and popularity inversely related to the intensity of their persecution by the powers that be. When desperation becomes rampant, and a populace feels wronged by their governance, history unfailingly ushers in a populist strongman — for better or worse.
https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/american-dream-reality-people-poll/story?id=106339566