When In Rome...

At the age of four, I knew of Julius Caesar as a man of honor. His name echoed from the dinner tables to my bedroom, where my father regaled me with the very stories that brought him to manhood: bedtime tales of Roman generals. Naturally, I inherited my father’s reverence. Caesar expanded Rome’s geographical boundaries and deepened its legacy. I carved his famous saying—aut viam enveniam aut faciam, “I shall either find a way or make one” —into my mind. At Lawrenceville I decided to start studying Latin, to the surprise of many of my friends. Unlike Spanish and French, with 560 and 312 million total speakers respectively, Latin is considered a “dead language.” The steady decline of students pursuing majors in Classics also directly reflects the “deadness” we see in ancient languages: the annual number of undergraduates graduating with a Classics degree fell from 1,200 in 2013 to 736 in 2020, according to Times Higher Education. Moreover, many schools are dissolving their Classics departments, like Howard University, which did so in 2021. Despite exterior skepticism, I adhered to my passion. 

My respect for Roman generals greatly diminished, however, when I read Caesar’s commentaries on De Bello Gallico in Latin 3. The pair of rose-tinted glasses I never dared to take off shattered when Caesar stated “ipsorum lingua Celtae, nostra Galli appellantur,” referring to the Celtic people as the “Gaulians.” Caesar rejects the chosen name of the tribe in a pejorative way. Yet, Casear’s quip persists to this day in history textbooks that refer to the Celtic people as the Gauls. As such, Caesar’s account of the Gallic Wars should not be cited as empirical evidence of the wars themselves, but rather a Eurocentric retelling of history. But this is just one of the instances where the discipline of Classics led to a legacy of historic exclusivity and racism. 

More troubling is the Roman militaristic philosophy Bealum Romanum, the laws of war, which outlines the ruthless warfare the Romans practiced against “barbarians.” Today, we call warfare like this genocide. How should Classics evolve as a discipline under modern concepts of morality? I believe that more people of minority groups should critically examine the horrific acts and consequences of the Roman empire, with an emphasis on bettering our society rather than glorifying their misdeeds. 

The Romans demanded the Belgians, Helvetians, and Aquitanians to “surrender and accept subjugation without rebellion,” as told by Dan Carlin in Hardcore History. Caesar’s army committed mass murder, sold people into slavery, and ripped apart the cities he passed, eerily echoing how Fascist regimes treated minorities before the Second World War. While the Nazis are rightly condemned, the Romans have often been celebrated as the pinnacle of classical civilization. Despite its pervasive racist ideology and sexist propaganda, the Roman Republic has been lauded as a symbol of democracy in previous decades. Our society’s definition of what is right has evolved from the viewpoint of the winning side to an examination of the moral consequences of both parties in the persisting conflicts. Classics’ decline may seem unproblematic. However, removing it may do more harm than good. The absence of minority representation in the classical field allows classics’ skewed legacy to persist: According to Max L. Goldman, a 2014 survey reveals that “the number of nonwhite faculty in the discipline was so small that a breakout analysis was impossible since it would undermine the anonymity of survey participants of color.” Simply put, the Classics field is far from welcoming minorities that suppress any hint of diversity within their academic ranks or any ideological diversity within classical scholarship. 

For Classics to stay a worthwhile endeavor, the field must adapt to modern standards of scholarship. In February 2021 UNESCO stressed the importance of learning “to study, inquire and co-construct together, to collectively mobilize,” “to live in a common world,” and “to attend and care.” All four standards of education emphasize inclusion rooted in globalization. We must explore how Classics might unify rather than divide. Rather than worshiping Classical works on a pedestal, institutions providing Classics could examine the flaws in Athenian democracy and the Roman Republic. While we certainly should not undermine the achievements of our predecessors, we must remember that those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Without dedicated Classical scholarship that critically examines the flaws in ancient empires, overly romanticized rhetoric will pervade modern thought in our already divided society. 

Hence, proponents of stripping down Classics programs need to recognize that Classics as a discipline is not innately dangerous. When certain social anarchists seek to justify their attempts to initiate ethnic cleansing with Classical literature, using historical sources in such a violent way is dangerous. I believe that no discipline of study is inherently political. Instead, the views, perspectives, and backgrounds of those studying a discipline add interpretative layers to their field of study which politicize a discipline– in the case of The New Criterion’s essay series on “Western Civilization at the Crossroads,” Roger Kimball chose to manipulate Classics into right-wing propaganda. Ultimately, Classics literature is a record of the strength, venerability, and tradition instilled in our past rather than a technical guide to navigate our path towards the future; Classics should not be a discipline that propagates the notion that who we were is who we should become, rather we should use it to avoid mistakes that could potentially prevent us from becoming who we should become.