Office of the President

New Student Convocation — September 3, 2000

Gladiators and Philosophers

At this moment, no one in this building harbors much interest in either gladiators or philosophers. It is the first day of college. Moving in, meeting roommates, attending orientation events, saying good-byes--such are the order of the day. Yet, at high noon when tensions are peaking, you are told you must drop everything else and attend this academic convocation. To make matters worse, you have to listen to a speech having no apparent relevance to anything remotely on your minds. Finally, you are told all this is being done in your honor.

Here at Carthage, the New Student Convocation has become an annual rite. It is the College's way of welcoming you to a community of learners. The faculty and the student body comprise hundreds of individuals at various ages and stages of life, each one of whom, in Chaucer's words, would "gladly learn and gladly teach." When we let you see us for what we are, when we simply and honestly say we want you to be a part of us, we are showing you respect, affection, and hospitality.

If the setting were different, if the time were right, you might indeed go see a movie entitled "Gladiator." ("Philosopher" would be a box office liability.) Indeed, earlier this summer, many of you did see Gladiator. I did, too, with our youngest son, who is starting his second year in college. Inviting me to that movie with him was probably his way of trying to keep me connected with his generation.

Whether or not you saw the film, a brief recounting of the plot might be useful. An action movie, it features profuse blood and gore in the battle scenes and the gladiatorial fights. The story begins with Roman legions fighting Germanic tribes along the Danubian frontier. The hero is a commander, as smart as he is brave, who leads the Romans to a resounding victory. The aged, dying emperor tries to designate the commander as his successor; but the emperor's own dissolute son arrives, kills his father, takes the throne, arrests the commander, and sends troops to murder the commander's wife and son. Sold into slavery, the commander becomes a gladiator, fights his way back to Rome, and finally slays the corrupt emperor in hand-to-hand combat in a packed Colosseum. Only then can the hero die of his own wounds, and be reunited in the afterlife with his wife and son, of whom he has had recurring visions.

The film has been a money-maker because it provides riveting entertainment for a summer evening. It stimulated me to do some reading, however, and some thinking, as well. Recognizing in the film an historical character for whom I have harbored much respect since my own college days, I decided it was time to learn more about him and his time. For the next few minutes, I wish to share with you a few thoughts about three characters in the movie.

* * *

The villain actually was an historical character. The emperor Commodus ruled Rome for thirteen years in the late second century. In reality, his life was as disastrous as that of his character in the movie. So destructive was his reign that the historian Edward Gibbon began his epic study, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, with the year Commodus came to power. Gibbon wrote: "But every sentiment of virtue and humanity was extinct in the mind of Commodus — he valued nothing in sovereign power, except the unbounded license of indulging his sensual appetites."

Gibbon excoriated Commodus for abandoning the duties of governance to "unworthy favourites," and spending his own time in a harem of "three hundred beautiful women, and as many boys." Having little patience with ideas and philosophy, Commodus ordered the murders of many of the more thoughtful and sober Roman senators. He was an excellent marksman, however, and he entertained the Roman masses with vast spectacles in the Colosseum. Shooting arrows at exotic animals brought from afar for the purpose, Commodus killed panthers, ostriches, elephants, rhinoceroses, giraffes, and, reportedly, one hundred lions at one time. Yes, he even became a gladiator, dispatching his opponents in contests rigged so that he could win. In the palace, no one felt safe around him. Finally, one night, his favorite concubine conspired with others to get him drunk, and then ushered in a young wrestler who strangled Commodus to death. 1

No one of us would choose such a biography for our life, but I cannot dismiss him in simple abhorrence. So apparently devoid of humanity, Commodus inspires deep pity within me. Contrary to the movie, he did not murder his father in order to become emperor. The job was thrust upon him when he was virtually the same age you are now--nineteen years old. Are you ready to rule an empire?

Commodus was weak in character, immature, and easily intimidated by older and more learned advisers. Yet, he was the emperor, and he needed respect. He wanted to be liked and admired. Exploiting his physical strengths, he first called himself the "Roman Hercules," and then assumed the name of his favorite gladiator. Were he alive today, he might join the World Wrestling Federation. He manipulated the Roman crowds by giving them "bread and circuses" (some food, some entertainment), but that was time-honored practice. What is so different about American presidential politics today?

It has been said that citizens get the kind of government they deserve. Did the Romans howling for blood at the gladiator contests actually deserve any better government than Commodus gave them? What about a constitutional order that would place unlimited power over a whole empire into the hands of an unqualified youngster? What about those conspiring careerists who flattered Commodus into giving them titles and offices when they secretly despised him? Who was to say that what came after Commodus would be any better than he was? It was easy enough to kill him, but who made any plans for more responsible leadership after him?

There is a line in a Jimmy Buffett song that goes: "The God's honest truth is, it's not that simple." The sooner you learn that truth, the better.

* * *

The hero in Gladiator is a Roman officer named "Maximus." Most people would agree that he provides an excellent model for the young men in this, or any audience. Maximus possesses great physical strength, extraordinary moral courage, a desire for personal virtue, and patriotic devotion to Rome. Most profoundly, he is absolutely committed to the people he loves. It is just too bad that he is a fictional character, created for the purposes of the movie.

Maximus does represent, however, the historical reality of recurring slave revolts in the Roman Empire. The most famous was led by a gladiator named "Spartacus," who lived approximately 250 years before Commodus. Spartacus apparently resembled Maximus in his fundamental character. The ancient historian Plutarch describes Spartacus as "a man not only of high spirit and bravery, but also in understanding and gentleness superior to his condition." In other words, Spartacus thought and behaved like a gentleman even if he was not an aristocrat. 2

Born free, in what is today northern Greece, Spartacus deserted from the Roman army. When captured, he suffered a normal punishment of being sold into slavery and ultimately found himself in gladiator school. He escaped, along with other gladiators, and took refuge on the slopes of Mt. Vesuvius. Soon, agrarian slaves from all over southern Italy began joining Spartacus's band, and his army eventually grew to as many as 120,000 men. Spartacus wanted to lead his men out of Italy and to let them go to their homes as free men. But gladiators and slaves can be an unruly lot, and many of his men preferred to roam the peninsula and to pillage Italian towns and villages, instead.

For two years, Spartacus's forces won battles against the Roman legions, but Rome eventually marshalled enough power to defeat the slave revolt. Spartacus fell in battle, his body hacked beyond recognition. The victorious Roman commander took six thousand prisoners, and crucified them along the Appian Way for miles leading into Rome. Their bodies were left to hang on crosses for months, as a comfort to masters and a warning to slaves.

Given this description, Spartacus must sound like a hero to you. Yet he had seized his own chance for revenge, as well. After a victory, and in order to avenge a fallen comrade, Spartacus had taken three hundred prisoners and had forced them to fight in pairs to the death. Spartacus and his men got to reverse roles and to watch others die while providing gladiatorial entertainment for them. And what of the future? Had they actually overthrown the Roman government, did those former slaves and gladiators have the capacity to rule a far-flung empire? Spartacus was wise enough to avoid attacking Rome itself because he realized the debacle that could ensue.

The Roman Empire may sound like a terribly violent and unjust society to you. Was it just the "evil empire" that you wish never existed? Well, the trouble is that, without the Romans, you would not be who you are. Much of our vocabulary in English comes from Latin by way of medieval French. Because the Romans had unified the ancient Mediterranean world, St. Paul and the early apostles were able to spread Christianity far more effectively than they could have in a jumble of small states and a Babel of languages. In short, whether you like it or not, how you think and what you believe can be traced directly to the Romans.

In our own times, the legend of Spartacus has continued to captivate people. During the First World War, a few young German intellectuals formed the "Spartacus League," dedicated to ending the fighting and to founding a new society of social justice. The two main spartacists were murdered, but, half a century later, their example continued to inspire many young people in the student movements of the 1960s. Were they heroes? What was their program? Actually, they founded the German Communist Party, which ultimately built the Berlin Wall and shot thousands of people attempting to flee across a fortified frontier.

Spartacus and the legend surrounding him turn out to be more complicated than Maximus was in the film. As Jimmy Buffett sang, "The God's honest truth is, it's not that simple."

* * *

We come now to a third and final character in Gladiator, the one who is my own personal favorite. In the film, the aged emperor, the father of Commodus, has only a supporting role; he soon dies and disappears. In reality, Marcus Aurelius was one of the most memorable figures in history. He was both an outstanding Roman emperor and a remarkable Stoic philosopher.

Marcus was not born to the throne. He was the adopted son of his predecessor, singled out as a young man for the succession because of his own intrinsic merit. From the time he was your age, he was groomed to become emperor, and he knew nothing but responsibility the rest of his life. He served as emperor for his last nineteen years, dying before he reached sixty. As depicted in the film, he spent most of his time on the Danubian frontier, trying to defend the empire against barbarian incursions.

Marcus has been characterized as "by nature a saint and a sage, by profession a ruler and a warrior." 3 As a boy, he learned Stoic philosophy, which served essentially as the religion of educated Romans of his day. Stoicism emphasized obedience to duty, the primacy of reason and rational thought, the fulfillment of one's own personal virtues, and the acceptance of that destiny which is beyond one's personal control. In his later years on the frontier, Marcus privately wrote out his thoughts as he communed with himself. Although intended for no one else, those notes have survived as his Meditations, the most classic of all Stoic writings.

Two examples must suffice. Marcus wrote: "If mortal life can offer you anything better than justice and truth, self-control and courage--that is, peace of mind in the evident conformity of your actions to the laws of reason, and peace of mind under the visitations of a destiny you cannot control — if, I say, you can discern any higher ideal, why, turn to it with your whole soul, and rejoice in the prize you have found. But if nothing seems to you better than the deity which dwells within you, directing each impulse, weighing each impression, abjuring (in the Socratic phrase) the temptations of the flesh, and avowing allegiance to the gods and compassion for mankind; if you find all else to be mean and worthless in comparison, then leave yourself no room for any rival pursuits."

Again, he wrote to himself: "Men seek for seclusion in the wilderness, by the seashore, or in the mountains — a dream you have cherished only too fondly yourself. But such fancies are wholly unworthy of a philosopher, since at any moment you choose you can retire within yourself. Nowhere can man find a quieter or more untroubled retreat than in his own soul; above all, he who possesses resources in himself, which he need only contemplate to secure immediate ease of mind — the ease that is but another word for a well-ordered spirit. Avail yourself often, then, of this retirement, and so continually renew yourself."

One of my proudest moments in life came four years ago in Africa. A small group, including my wife and me, faced a herd of elephants twenty feet away that we unintentionally had angered. For several minutes, they seemed on the point of charging us, nothing could prevent them from doing so, and if they had charged, they easily could have killed us. It was essential to remain calm, even as I made plans to fall on top of Barbara if those elephants did charge. A friend who witnessed the incident later sought me out privately and called my behavior "stoic."

By nature, I am prone to admire Marcus Aurelius. Since seeing Gladiator, I have read the Meditations, and have bought additional copies for my son and friends. I find Marcus's thought both comforting and inspiring, and can appreciate how Stoicism influenced Christianity. Yet Marcus certainly can take the fun out of life; he leaves little room for pleasure. He seems sometimes too passive. And in real life, he may have been too indulgent of those around him. He made a fatal mistake in allowing Commodus to succeed him, rather than choosing a more worthy successor.

Before lionizing Marcus, I need to say to myself: "Greg, the God's honest truth is, it's not that simple."

* * *

Perhaps, by now, this speech has ruined your memories of a pleasant summer evening at the movies. I have used a popular film in an effort to find common ground with you — but to what purpose? My answer is that I have just explained what each of you should be doing during your upcoming years at Carthage.

Our quick look at Commodus, Maximus/Spartacus, and Marcus Aurelius reflects the murkiness of human affairs. In the movies, we may find pure heroes and pure villains, but such is seldom the case in real life. Humans are mixtures, frequently complicated ones, and easy judgments about us are superficial. Personal, social, and political relationships among humans cover broad gray areas, and seldom yield quick black-and-white decisions.

Our mission at Carthage is to enable you to live happy and successful lives as mature human beings. Yes, we shall teach you some skill that will help you get your first job, but your longer-term professional success will depend on your ability to think for yourself and to keep on learning. If Carthage can stimulate each of you to become full-time independent thinkers, the College will go a long way toward preparing you for "the real world."

Just as we shall warn you against simplistic outlooks; just as we shall admonish you to tell us what you think, not what you "feel" — we also shall expect you ultimately to reach decisions. The capacity to make clear choices will help you become agents of change, not its victims. Perpetually floating in a sea of indecision is not the way to build a happy or successful life.

Each of us does face an ultimate test every day of our lives. The crucial world that each of us must seek to understand lies within us. Marcus wrote to himself: "Dig within. There lies the well-spring of good: ever dig, and it will ever flow." If you know yourself in all your shades of gray; if you understand that within you lies the well-spring of good; if you regularly can renew yourself by retiring to your own "well-ordered spirit" — you should live very happy lives.

You begin today a new chapter in your odyssey of self-discovery.

Welcome to Carthage!

 

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1. Edward Gibbon's depiction of Commodus comes in Chapter Four of The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Gibbon's history first appeared in London between 1776 and 1788.

2. In the first century A.D., Plutarch wrote this description of Spartacus in his chapter on Crassus in The Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans.

3. See the introduction by Maxwell Staniforth in Marcus Aurelius, Meditations (London: Penguin Books, 1964). The three passages from Marcus Aurelius, which are cited in this speech, are: Book Three, Number 6; Book Four, Number 3; and Book Seven, Number 59.