The Romans Were Right: Don’t Elect Power-Hungry Politicians
The white, property-owning men of our nation’s infancy were impressionable figures, searching for identity and historical reassurances. Many of them found comfort (and some self-gratification) in comparing themselves to ancient Romans. Washington thought he was the American Cincinnatus, Jefferson likened himself to Cicero, and Madison believed he embodied an 18th century Publius. These Roman names don’t mean much to the average American nowadays, but they meant a lot to the American elite during that time.
It makes sense, then, that our founders tried to emulate the political norms of the Roman republic. By doing so, they projected some of Rome’s political idiosyncrasies onto an entirely different people, in an entirely different time, and in an entirely different land.
That’s quite something. And naturally, as we’ve drifted further from the grasps of Roman primacy, Americans have forgotten how much our political discourse is shaped by the ancient republic.
One such norm we take for granted is that we want our politicians to “appear” disinterested in gaining power. The Romans had a name for this virtue, continentia, which Cicero summarized well:
The more a man is endowed with these finer virtues — temperance, self-control, and that very justice about which so much has already been said — the more he deserves to be favored.
There’s a self-preserving nature behind this political guideline: don’t trust the politician who blatantly seeks power. After all, someone who opportunistically runs for a powerful office is more likely to morph institutions into exclusionary or extractive bodies, where those at the top do very well, while those at the bottom are forgotten.
The early American leaders quite liked the idea of ridiculing the political ambition of others. It was a common attack put forward by Thomas Jefferson on his nemesis Alexander Hamilton. As George Washington admitted, “by some, Hamilton is considered an ambitious man and therefore dangerous.” Later on, Andrew Jackson was mocked for having monarchical ambitions and Teddy Roosevelt was seen as having a disturbing zeal for political power.
Clearly, this sort of ambition-shaming can, and has, been used to unfairly smear political opponents. However, our frequent misuse of this Roman virtue should not undermine the sagacity of ridiculing autocratic zeal.
After all, America is not immune to the lure of the megalomaniac, especially when faced with high inequality (see Trump). The appeal of power-seekers increases as a society becomes more precarious and unequal — the exact time a nation shouldn’t pursue power-obsessed rulers. A recent paper by Eric Gould and Alexander Hijzen backs this claim up. They found that in the US “overall inequality lowers an individual’s sense of trust in others.” Their main takeaway? The more we grow apart, the less we trust each other.
During highly unequal times, we as a people (like the Romans before us) become more susceptible to political leaders without temperance and self-control. And, if elected, these leaders often perpetuate and exacerbate the exclusionary natures of the political institutions they claim to “take back”. This then feeds the cycle of more inequality and more distrust of others. You can see how a democracy can quickly disintegrate.
What’s more, Gould and Hijzen’s study finds that trust in one another (and trust in the political intentions of our leaders) has profound economic benefits. They claim “trust has been shown to promote economic growth generally” while also “enhancing the overall quality of public institutions.”
The Romans didn’t have the data to make this point, like we do now, but they clearly saw for themselves that societies cannot thrive for long with autocratic leaders. Americans should not forget this historical fact. And they should continue to ask themselves the same questions Romans did: Do I think this leader is equipped with the virtue of self-control and prudence? And are they going to increase inclusiveness and trust in our society?
