Lessons not learned, Part II: Comparing Ancient Rome to the United States of America

At its cultural, political, and economic zenith, the Roman Empire spanned the modern-day territories of North Africa, southern Britain, and Anatolia (Turkey). Promoting a strong sense of public and civic identity, the organizational structure of Rome, at once flexible and firm, enabled a period of rule that has yet to be matched, let alone surpassed. Although brutal in its relentless pursuit of military conquest, decimating any foreign army who dared resist, newly subjected peoples, by and large, were permitted to retain much of their previous social identity. So long as allegiance to the Roman emperor was respected and not challenged, the citizens of Rome could exercise freedom of religion, preserve their native languages, and establish regional self-government. Yet, despite the progressive rights accorded to the Roman citizen, the economic structure of the empire subsisted almost exclusively on slave labor. These darker truths, concomitant with the ensuing rise of Christianity, just as quickly set in motion Rome's eventual demise.

Many have debated the reasons for the fall of the Roman Empire, including Edward Gibbon, Ferdinand Lot, and more recently, Norman F. Cantor. There is, however, a general consensus among many contemporary scholars that the growth of Christianity significantly undermined the institutional features that had distinguished effective Roman governance. Particularly, once the Christian community and leadership became powerful and influential enough to convince Roman emperors to actively suppress religious diversity, the political and territorial fragmentation of the empire was all but assured. Added to the increasing tension that pitted those who sought to preserve traditional Roman pagan practice (Symmachus) against those who championed Christian orthodoxy (St. Ambrose of Milan), were the Germanic barbarian hordes who after centuries of being thwarted finally managed to secure a victory over the Roman army at the Battle of Adrianople. Depleted by war, divided by religion, and having no industrial base to reorganize and restructure itself, Rome fell.

So what lessons can be, and should be, learned from an empire that has long since ceased to exist? Today, the United States is facing many of the same problems that led to the fall of the Roman Empire: 1. Rome’s economic success depended on enslaving a significant majority of the people they conquered. Slavery was the engine of Rome’s industrial base. Comparatively, the economic prosperity of the United States was a direct result of the importation of slaves, the systematic extermination of a native Indian population, and later, the wholesale destruction of the world’s infrastructure during WWII. 2. The emergence of Christianity transformed Rome from an empire that was once tolerant of religious and cultural diversity, to one that actively persecuted groups and peoples of a different faith. Comparatively, the constitution of the United States asserts the separation of church and state. Although at different periods in the history of the Republic religious revivalism gripped political discourse and characterized cultural practice, not since the administration of George W. Bush has the political establishment of the United States enmeshed so closely with organized religion. 3. Repeated barbarian incursions into the territories of Rome not only depleted the empire of its military, financial, and human resources, but also left it vulnerable to increased social, political, and cultural upheaval. Comparatively, the wars of Afghanistan and Iraq have deepened the severity of America’s current economic crisis. Having incurred trillions of dollars of debt, much of which is owned by communist China, the United States faces an enormous fiscal challenge that stands to cripple many of its future generations for decades to come.

Although it is tempting to draw definitive conclusions about the fate of the United States based on studies of Roman history, there is at least one important fact that distinguishes the latter from the former, geography. The borders of America are separated by two vast oceans and despite the attacks on September 11, the United States will never experience waves of barbarian invaders landing on its shores as did Rome. Certainly, technology will someday shorten these distances, but for now, this remains the purview of futurists. Suffice it to say, the United States has only itself to fear. Should it fail to resolve its economic, social, and cultural crises, America may soon face another civil war.

Note: The debate, of course, is much broader and comprehensive than has been here discussed. I've attempted simply to draw a few obvious parallels between the two empires.

Lessons not learned: The enduring legacy of Gilgamesh

The Epic of Gilgamesh is considered by scholars to be one of the earliest known works of literature. With Sumerian and Babylonian roots that date as far back as 2700 B.C., it is the closest modern readers can get textually into the historic, cultural, and economic beginnings of human civilization. On the surface, Gilgamesh is a story about a selfish and ruthless King who, after a series of trials and misadventures, reforms and becomes a much beloved and virtuous ruler. Underneath, however, the morals and truths the tale conveys reflect a unique code of conduct that society then considered essential to its survival. Amid the unpredictable and little understood forces of nature individuals relied on friendship, craftsmanship, and duty to maintain their fragile existence. Friendship, for example, was not a relationship based merely on platitudes exchanged between two buddies over a drink; rather, it was deemed a collaborative partnership where one had to trust the other to remain consistently vigilant in an environment where any number of hostile beasts or roving bands could appear to threaten their lives. From the perspective of a modern reader, I was struck by a particular passage in which Enkidu, Gilgamesh’s best friend, implies as he lay dying that not only was the killing of Humbaba, the guardian of the forest, needless, but also that having done so ushered the reckless destruction of an entire forest of pine:

“You there, wood of the gate, dull and insensible, witless; I searched for you over twenty leagues until I saw a towering cedar. There is no wood like you in our land. Seventy-two cubits high and twenty-four wide, the pivot and the ferrule and the jambs are perfect. A master craftsman from Nippur has made you; but O, if I had known the conclusion!” (pg 26, Norton Anthology of World Literature).

Gilgamesh and Enkidu embarked on a quest to kill Humbaba solely to secure their legacy as accomplished warriors. For the gain of empty pride the consequence was the wholesale elimination of forest for lavish palaces and public displays of wealth that would soon rot, leaving behind a vast desert. Recent historical evidence suggests that there indeed existed an ecosystem of pine in the Euphrates valley that was wiped out on account of human activity. Today, we face not the clearing of a region of forest, but the eradication of earth’s ecosystems en masse. Ours is the hubris of unchecked industry engaged in a reckless pursuit to extract as much of earth’s resources as current technologies permit. Despite the clamor of the world’s scientific community, we are slow to respond, and for some, even to admit, that soon, ours will be the fate of Enkidu and his people.

The Arvon Foundation

During an evening of casual internet perusing, I came across a recent press release issued by Arvon Director Ariane Koek about plans with the British Council to help initiate a literary movement native to Brazil. At issue is the country’s enduring tradition of music and oral culture that continues to dampen its literary ambitions. Specifically, Sao Paolo is marked by an aesthetic and physical confluence of extremes. It is both one of the most violent and one of the richest cities in the world where marbled balconies often loom above crowded shanties and traffic congested streets. As a cosmopolitan city with an array of nationalities represented, including Chinese, Jews, Arabs, and Italians, this part of the world is rife with the unwritten narrative of its peoples. Here, cultures and class hierarchies clash with as much vigor, if not more, as its European counterpart. One can’t help but wonder what exciting form of literature is waiting to emerge from such a turbulent environment. And who, in Brazil, will pioneer world literature as did, for example, Chimamanda Adichie, Andrei Codrescu, and Chinua Achebe for Benue, Romania, and Nigeria, respectively? I’ll therefore keep a close eye on the British Council’s activities and hope eagerly for a special voice to boldly burst from the literary enclaves of Brazil.

David Foster Wallace – R.I.P.

I am by no means an expert on the work of David Foster Wallace. In fact, I’d only managed to get through half of his most famous novel, Infinite Jest. My failure to finish this novel stemmed not from my inability to understand his prolific and brilliant style, but because I considered it so damn good. His prophetic portrayal of American consumerism manifests not in a cumbersome and condescending tone of academic self-interest, but through a cadre of memorable characters presented bluntly in descriptive form, albeit within the context of Wallace’s linguistic virtuosity:

“The medical attaché sits and watches and eats and watches, unwinding by visible degrees, until the angles of his body in the chair and his head on his neck indicate that he has passed into sleep, at which point his special electronic recliner can be made automatically to recline to full horizontal, and luxuriant silk-analog bedding emerges flowingly from long slots in the appliance’s sides: and, unless his wife is inconsiderate and clumsy with the recliner’s remote hand-held controls, the medical attaché is permitted to ease effortlessly from unwound spectation into a fully relaxed night’s sleep…(pg. 34)”

The above passage is at once humorous, entertaining, and telling of modern industrial living. The arrival of technology has not brought us any closer to moral, spiritual, or aesthetic perfection, but functions clearly as a vehicle to amplify, expedite, and accommodate humankind’s underlying desire for idle distraction in the face of overwhelming and senseless occupational responsibilities. David Foster Wallace, however, intends to convey more, and he accomplishes this by weaving competing tapestries of narrative using a diverse range of verbal play to express the simultaneity and absurdity of existence. It is for this that many critics have lambasted Wallace, often describing his style as exemplary of the overly wrought and needless trickery of post-modernist writing. I couldn’t disagree more, and in my humble opinion, history will more than prove these critics wrong. Wallace’s style embodies and reflects modern society as few contemporary authors have: as an era whose hyper driven citizens must contend with rapid technological innovation within the stubborn vagaries of an antiquated bureaucratic system.

Sadly, David Foster Wallace hung himself on Saturday 12, 2008 for reasons as yet undisclosed. The best that we can all do to honor this great writer and thinker, is to read his book. Tonight, I will begin Infinite Jest anew.