Biden, Washington, and Cincinnatus
Why is this relevant?
Given this blog’s recent creation, there are some events of the past few weeks and months that I think are still worth addressing, even if they are, by our modern standards, “old news.” I find myself constantly thinking about one of the most momentous decisions of this recent presidential election cycle. President Biden stepping down as a candidate for reelection. There is one comparison that I keep seeing over and over again online, and that is to compare Biden to Cincinnatus, the Roman twice-dictator who relinquished absolute power. Given my love for Roman history and the title of this blog, I thought this would be an excellent topic for discussion.
Given my thoughts on Cincinnatus, I think what Biden has done should be similarly lauded. It might even deserve greater respect and admiration than the Romans showed Cincinnatus.
Cincinnatus and the Early Roman Republic
For those of you who are not aware, Cincinnatus is one of the pivotal figures in the early Roman Republic and is a seminal figure in the Roman concept of civic virtue. If people are familiar with his story, they usually know that he was a dictator, but he nobly relinquished his power to the people and returned to his plow after saving the Republic from the threat of foreign invasion. This is the story primarily promoted by Livy, the Roman historian who lived to see the Roman Republic collapse into the Roman Empire. But there are some complexities to Cincinnatus’s life, or what we supposedly know of it, that are worth considering.
Cincinnatus was born to a patrician (think elite, like the Kennedys or Bushes in modern politics) family in the late Roman Monarchy (also for those not aware, Rome transitioned from monarchy to republic to empire, before fracturing into kingdoms and empires that existed for centuries and millennia after Rome’s fall). During Cincinnatus’s own life, the last of the “seven” Roman kings, Tarquin the Proud, was overthrown by the patrician class of Rome after the King’s son attempted to seduce, or more likely rape, the noblest woman of Rome, Lucretia.
In traditional Roman fashion, the noble and married Lucretia was threatened by the son of King Tarquin when she refused the prince’s advances. The King’s son claimed he would tell all that she was acting adulterously with a slave if she did not act adulterously with him. This led to her either submitting to the king’s son’s desires or being raped. Either way, Lucretia’s story ends with her suicide to prevent the shame of the forced infidelity from being associated with her husband and her family. In this way, the noblest of Roman women was defined by her ability to perform household duties, her desire to prevent her husband from being shamed, and her need to kill herself after essentially being raped. The Romans obviously had a positive and healthy view of women that has not negatively contributed to misogynistic thoughts on women today.
Now, why is the story of Lucretia relevant to Cincinnatus? It shows what the pervasive thought at the time would have been towards the Monarchy, a system of arbitrary and unlimited power, by the elite patricians who were subjected to the whims of the monarchs despite their own sense of grandeur and superiority to the plebeians (the class that made up the majority of Rome, who were primarily uneducated, agricultural, and not currently enslaved).
After the kings were overthrown, a republic was formed in its place, giving power to those patricians who had opposed Tarquin the Proud. Their government was shaped around the idea of spreading power between magistrates, and avoiding power being vested in one man by electing two consuls as principal executives of the republic and limiting their terms to only one year. This would supposedly avoid the congregation of too much power in one man.
Then came Cincinnatus. While he is known primarily for the actions he took later in life, he did serve as suffete (replacement) consul, where he ardently fought against the expansion of rights to plebians. This was only exacerbated when his son, Caeso, obstructed the efforts of plebeian tribunes (to oversimplify things, you can think of Tribunes as lower-class representatives in the republican government) by doing things like beating them and running them out of the forum. I am sure that this heavy-handed oppression by the political elite of Rome would have no consequence on the later republic. Cincinnatus’s son Caeso voluntarily abandoned Rome rather than be found guilty of his crimes, and Cincinnatus left politics to return to his plow as the story goes. He may or may not have been fined for his son’s behavior, but this is disputed.
It was while at the plow and out of public life that we finally reach the part of the story that made Cincinnatus the oft-lauded member of Roman history that he is viewed today. In the face of a crisis at the hands of foreign invaders, Cincinnatus was appointed dictator. The position of dictator was a temporary one, with a term of six months given, so it was not like he was made Dictator for life, like Sulla or Caesar. But he still was essentially given the power of a king as the Romans believed in power being centralized to allow for decisive action in a crisis. In sixteen days, he defeated the foreign adversaries and saved Rome.
After his victory, Cincinnatus relinquished absolute power not at the end of his term, but immediately, returning it to the patricians. Cincinnatus would then return to his farm to take back up his plow. Supposedly he even was appointed to a second dictatorship to address the plotting of a wealthy plebian who was purported to be conspiring to overthrow the republic. After twenty-one days, the plebian was murdered, Cincinnatus relinquished absolute power again, and Rome ever after remained at peace.
I hope you know that I was kidding about the peace thing.
Livy and Roman Historiography
Ok, so, you might look at Cincinnatus and say, well, he had his problems but when considering his life, he was still a model of civic virtue for his decision not to retain absolute power longer than necessary. But, like all ancient history where sources are limited, it is important to ask ourselves (i) why this story was repeated, (ii) who were the parties that promoted it, and (iii) what values this story espouses. And that brings us to the historian Livy. It is from Livy, writing in the first century B.C. (four hundred years after Cincinnatus would have lived), that we get our first existing account of the deeds of the legendary Cincinnatus.
As this is a blog and not a journal article, I am going to oversimplify Roman historiography here so that it is a bit more approachable. There are three Roman historians that I want to briefly discuss. Livy (59 BC – 17 AD), Tacitus (56 AD – 120 AD), and Suetonius (69 AD – 122 AD). Each had a different approach to history, and so highlighted different things in their works.
Livy’s histories are full of eloquent tales of daring but honorable men from the elite families of Rome sacrificing their well-being for the good of the republic. Every hero is tall, handsome, and noble. Every villain is wicked, corrupted, and foreign. In Livy’s history, the world is rather black and white, and the Romans are the heroes.
“It is your duty,’ he said, ‘to recover your country not by gold but by the sword. You will be fighting with all you love before your eyes: the temples of the gods, your wives and children, the soil of your native land scarred with the ravages of war, and everything which honor and truth call upon you to defend, or recover, or avenge.”
– Livy, The History of Rome, Books I-V
Tacitus authored the Annuls and the Histories, providing much of what we know about the early emperors, from Augustus to Domitian. While Livy was the romantic artist, Tacitus was the conventional textbook writer. His work is considered dense, lacking embellishment, and rather dull at times. He preferred to keep things in chronological order, and he preferred to simply discuss the facts, or the purported facts, as they were recorded.
“Augustus meanwhile, as supports to his despotism, raised to the pontificate and curule aedileship Claudius Marcellus, his sister’s son, while a mere stripling, and Marcus Agrippa, of humble birth, a good soldier, and one who had shared his victory, to two consecutive consulships, and as Marcellus soon afterwards died, he also accepted him as his son-in-law.”
– Tacitus, The Annuls, Book I
And finally, there is Suetonius. If you wonder where we get the idea that Roman Emperors were sexually depraved, sadistic, and maniacal, well, that is usually derived from the accounts provided by Suetonius. Think of it today as your modern scandal paper. Potentially factual, and maybe more honest than the elegant prose of Livy, but Suetonius understood that sex sells. And so he talked about sex and power. A lot.
“Citizens, keep an eye on your wives, we’re bringing back the bald adulterer. He’s fucked away the gold in Gaul that you loaned him here in Rome.“
– Suetonius, Life of Julias Caesar, 51
As each of the three historians wrote in a different fashion, historians today must consider those tendencies when looking at their works. So, when we read Livy, which again is where the accounts of Cincinnatus come from, we should remember that Livy highlights the best traits of the elite noble patricians, is not afraid of exaggerating, and is trying to relay themes or messages with his histories. (This is not to say that modern historians don’t do the same and that Livy was some unique crook. This is all too common. Writers have agendas).
It is also important to consider the goings on in Rome when Livy was writing his histories. When Livy was a teenager, Julius Caesar was murdered by the senate, civil wars erupted between Octavian and Marc Antony that engulfed much of Rome, and the Roman Republic collapsed and became the empire. Livy did not go to the city of Rome until Octavian had transformed into Augustus, the absolute ruler of Rome. Livy was never a senator, nor involved in the political process; he was an outside observer. He might never have even served in the army, as all elite Roman boys were expected to. And finally, Livy became a confidant of Augustus and tutored the future emperor Claudius.
Basically, Livy was incredibly involved with, and reliant on, the emperor and the imperial family for his position and status. Livy during his time was a celebrity for his writings, well known in the early empire, partially thanks to the support he received from the imperial family. Livy’s patron Augustus would have loved the stories of old noble Romans who took up the position of dictator and assumed absolute power for the good of the nation. That is pretty much what Augustus was claiming to have done himself when he became emperor. Augustus did not call himself a monarch, only first citizen. Augustus did not claim to dominate the senate (though he did), he claimed that the patricians were still independent. You may see why Augustus had Livy perform recitations about Cincinnatus so often, even though the average Roman listener aware of the history might be left wondering when Augustus would follow in Cincinnatus’s lead. (spoiler, he didn’t).
These factors have begged historians to ask the question, how much can we trust Livy? This is captured in the book that the title of the blog refers to. In fact, the very title of this blog concerns Livy. In I, Claudius, and awkward and stammering Claudius is confronted by two historians, Pollio and Livy. In it, Claudius states that he prefers the works of Pollio, as Livy’s histories appear more fanciful than truthful; they are meant to promote virtue. On the other hand, Pollio’s histories compel truth at the expense of romantic beauty. So we must ask ourselves, does this figure of Cincinnatus simply promote virtue? Is it a true accounting? Or is it somewhere in between?
George Washington, the Post-Renaissance Cincinnatus
No matter the truth of Cincinnatus’s life, what is undeniable is the effect the story had on later generations. Following the Renaissance in Europe, classical authors and figures were in vogue. Liberal nobles and the burgeoning merchant class pinned for the society that existed prior to the rise of the Catholic Church, which obfuscated the pagan Roman society that existed prior to Constantine the Great‘s conversion to Christianity, replacing reason with faith. These romantic ideas of Rome permeated the liberal elites in Europe and eventually spread to the one figure we so often associate with Cincinnatus, George Washington. (There is an excellent sculpture of George Washington in a Roman toga referred to as the Enthroned Washington by Horatio Greenough, but for image ownership purposes I will not post it here.)
Given the fame that surrounds George Washington, I believe that he requires no introduction. But just in case, he was the commander in chief of the Continental Army and the first president of the United States of America. He earned his comparisons to Cincinnatus when approaching the end of his second term as President, Washington relinquished his power and refused to run for election for a third term of office. This proved to be a wise decision, as Washington was ill at the end of his second term, and died on December 14, 1799, during the term of the second president of the United States, John Adams. If he did not retire to private life, he would likely have died in office.
There are more similarities between the two men. Washington was a farmer and a man of agriculture, though it is important for the reader to not imagine Washington pushing a plow like Cincinnatus is often depicted; Washington had slaves to do that for him. Also, like Cincinnatus, Washington is often associated with the traditional virtues of simplicity, modesty, and dedication to hard work. But it is their “final” acts that define them, their willingness to relinquish power for the simple pleasures of farming and a quiet life.
From the apocryphal stories concerning Washington’s inability to tell lies about cutting down cherry trees, we should understand that the way we view George Washington today is the same way in which Livy would have viewed Cincinnatus. A figure from an almost mythical past, where men were men, honor prevailed, and the times were better. History has a way of making our heroes perfect ideals instead of real people. So when you hear a story that talks of an individual who has never done wrong, it is worth questioning. It might just be that a historian has succumbed to the same situation that Livy found himself in, espousing virtue but sadly ignoring truth.
George Washington is unparalleled in United States history. He is a hero for his service in the Revolutionary War, and he is a hero for his service as the first president of the United States. But he is also a big white (see the aside below for explanation), a patrician, and a slaver. He is both things at the same time. In that regard, he is not that different than Cincinnatus, who acts as an ardent opponent of plebeian rights while still being a virtuous citizen who relinquished absolute power twice when made dictator. Sometimes history is messy like that. And that is because people are messy like that.
Why does this matter?
No matter the truth of Cincinnatus’s original actions, it was the virtue Livy espoused that made Cincinnatus important to individuals in later generations. This supports an idea that has been long lauded in liberal circles that the individual must make some sacrifices for the good of the state. Think when JFK said in his inagural address, “Ask not what your country can do for you- ask what you can do for your country.” The idea both JFK and Livy were arguing for was that individuals should make sacrifices for the greater good. Putting your country before yourself, if you will.
That brings us back to Biden. On July 21, 2024, President Biden did something unheard of in American politics. After receiving enough support from democratic primaries to be nominated for the democratic party’s ticket, he stepped out of the race. He did so after serving only one term in office, less than George Washington’s two, which Congress found to be the right maximum term after FDR broke with norms to be elected to four consecutive terms as president. Thus, Biden fulfilled that most important duty that we have ascribed to our presidents, putting one’s country before oneself.
That is not to say that this was an easy decision for Biden. Or one that he came to on his own terms. There has been a plethora of reporting to the effect that he was more strong-armed out of the position from democratic heavyweights like Nancy Pelosi than some noble recognition by Biden alone that he must step aside for the good of the state. But that does not discount the fact that it was extremely unlikely that he could have been forced out if he did not wish it. It would have led to an all-out war of words within the democratic party, which is what was already well on the way following Biden’s debate performance in June. No matter the prodding required, we should still recognize the fact that he did it.
That is also not to say that Biden is without his faults in his history. He has had to come a long way in his eighty-plus years of life and fifty-plus years of public service. For example, Biden started his career as a freshman senator by fighting against white children being bused to “black schools” and vice versa. There is no other way to put it, he began his career pushing for state-sponsored discrimination. One can say that as a young man, he simply went along with the democratic party elders; but I don’t see that as an excuse. Just like we currently do not excuse combatants for war crimes on the explanation that they were simply following orders, we need our politicians to break from their leadership to do whats right if those leaders are wrong. Biden would later fight for civil rights and for racial justice, but it took time.
And that brings me to the second trait that we should celebrate Biden for. He was wrong on many issues, but he had the ability and the dignity to admit that his views on the world and politics have changed. He is enough of a man to admit he has been on the wrong side of history more than once in his life. I wish others had that trait.
I hope you enjoy retirement, Mr. President.
An Aside
If you are not familiar with Haitian history, you might have misunderstood my reference to George Washington as a “big white.” It is a term I took from Mike Duncan’s Revolutions podcast, and is used to describe the white, land owning, slaving, and economically prosperous elites that dominated Haitian politics prior to the Haitian Revolution. And that is exactly what George Washington was prior to the American Revolution, just in the American colonies. And I am not referring to him as such to discount everything he did for this country. It is just a proper description of what he was.
For those of you that are not familiar with the Haitian Revolution, it is a fascinating period of history. I cannot recommend enough Mike Duncan’s aforementioned podcast on the topic, as well as C.L.R. James’s excellent book, The Black Jacobins: Toussaint L’Ouverture and the San Domingo Revolution.
