Beware the Ides of March: What Julius Caesar and George Washington Teach Amid Today’s Toppling of Dictators
What's the endgame here?
What makes a man truly great? As President Donald Trump celebrates the ouster of dictators in Iran and Venezuela, and jokes about running for a third term in 2028, I can’t help but think of the two great men whose lives pivoted on one date—the Ides of March.
“The Ides of March” has a powerful, ominous, almost alien feel, but it’s just a fancy Latin term for March 15, the day in 44 B.C. when members of the Roman Senate stabbed Julius Caesar, who had just been appointed dictator for life.
Today, “dictator” means a person with near absolute power, and it’s often synonymous with “tyrant.” The ancient Roman Republic, however, established it as an actual position—a person invested with supreme authority during severe crises, but only for a maximum of six months. The most famous example, Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, took up the mantle in the 400s B.C., assuming absolute power to resolve a crisis but then immediately returning to his farm after saving Rome.
Caesar had achieved great successes for Rome, but accepting this title threatened to make him something Rome had intentionally rejected for centuries—a monarch.
In one of history’s greatest ironies, the senators killed Caesar to restore the Roman Republic, but they ended up bringing about its ultimate demise, as a bloody civil war saw the emergence of the first emperor, Caesar’s nephew Augustus.
Redeeming the Ides of March
Another Ides of March brought about a similarly ironic fate in 1783.
George Washington led the Continental Army in the Revolutionary War, and while the British had already surrendered at Yorktown in 1781, they had yet to sign the Treaty of Paris acknowledging America’s independence in September 1783.
The army, camped near Newburgh, New York, and still active because America was still at war, harbored grievances against the Continental Congress, because Congress hadn’t paid them.
An anonymous soldier circulated two inflammatory letters, suggesting the Army do more than just ask nicely for more money. The first letter urged Army leaders to “suspect the man who would advise to more moderation and longer forbearance.” The second suggested that Washington supported an aggressive plan to move against Congress.
It seemed the Continental Army might take up arms against America’s fledgling government. Some analysts have suggested the Army might have tried to make Washington a king.
Whatever the true goals of this Newburgh Conspiracy, Washington took a firm stance against it.
“This dreadful alternative, of either deserting our country in the extremest hour of her distress, or turning our Army against it … has something so shocking in it, that humanity revolts at the idea,” Washington wrote in his manuscript of the address. Any man suggesting it must be “an insidious foe” against the Army and his country, the commander-in-chief said.
He urged the Army to trust Congress, and not to “tarnish the reputation of an Army which is celebrated through all Europe for its fortitude and patriotism.”
Captain Samuel Shaw recalled that Washington read a letter from Congress, expressing admiration for the Army. While reading, Washington “made a short pause, took out his spectacles, and …
What's the endgame here?
What makes a man truly great? As President Donald Trump celebrates the ouster of dictators in Iran and Venezuela, and jokes about running for a third term in 2028, I can’t help but think of the two great men whose lives pivoted on one date—the Ides of March.
“The Ides of March” has a powerful, ominous, almost alien feel, but it’s just a fancy Latin term for March 15, the day in 44 B.C. when members of the Roman Senate stabbed Julius Caesar, who had just been appointed dictator for life.
Today, “dictator” means a person with near absolute power, and it’s often synonymous with “tyrant.” The ancient Roman Republic, however, established it as an actual position—a person invested with supreme authority during severe crises, but only for a maximum of six months. The most famous example, Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, took up the mantle in the 400s B.C., assuming absolute power to resolve a crisis but then immediately returning to his farm after saving Rome.
Caesar had achieved great successes for Rome, but accepting this title threatened to make him something Rome had intentionally rejected for centuries—a monarch.
In one of history’s greatest ironies, the senators killed Caesar to restore the Roman Republic, but they ended up bringing about its ultimate demise, as a bloody civil war saw the emergence of the first emperor, Caesar’s nephew Augustus.
Redeeming the Ides of March
Another Ides of March brought about a similarly ironic fate in 1783.
George Washington led the Continental Army in the Revolutionary War, and while the British had already surrendered at Yorktown in 1781, they had yet to sign the Treaty of Paris acknowledging America’s independence in September 1783.
The army, camped near Newburgh, New York, and still active because America was still at war, harbored grievances against the Continental Congress, because Congress hadn’t paid them.
An anonymous soldier circulated two inflammatory letters, suggesting the Army do more than just ask nicely for more money. The first letter urged Army leaders to “suspect the man who would advise to more moderation and longer forbearance.” The second suggested that Washington supported an aggressive plan to move against Congress.
It seemed the Continental Army might take up arms against America’s fledgling government. Some analysts have suggested the Army might have tried to make Washington a king.
Whatever the true goals of this Newburgh Conspiracy, Washington took a firm stance against it.
“This dreadful alternative, of either deserting our country in the extremest hour of her distress, or turning our Army against it … has something so shocking in it, that humanity revolts at the idea,” Washington wrote in his manuscript of the address. Any man suggesting it must be “an insidious foe” against the Army and his country, the commander-in-chief said.
He urged the Army to trust Congress, and not to “tarnish the reputation of an Army which is celebrated through all Europe for its fortitude and patriotism.”
Captain Samuel Shaw recalled that Washington read a letter from Congress, expressing admiration for the Army. While reading, Washington “made a short pause, took out his spectacles, and …
Beware the Ides of March: What Julius Caesar and George Washington Teach Amid Today’s Toppling of Dictators
What's the endgame here?
What makes a man truly great? As President Donald Trump celebrates the ouster of dictators in Iran and Venezuela, and jokes about running for a third term in 2028, I can’t help but think of the two great men whose lives pivoted on one date—the Ides of March.
“The Ides of March” has a powerful, ominous, almost alien feel, but it’s just a fancy Latin term for March 15, the day in 44 B.C. when members of the Roman Senate stabbed Julius Caesar, who had just been appointed dictator for life.
Today, “dictator” means a person with near absolute power, and it’s often synonymous with “tyrant.” The ancient Roman Republic, however, established it as an actual position—a person invested with supreme authority during severe crises, but only for a maximum of six months. The most famous example, Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, took up the mantle in the 400s B.C., assuming absolute power to resolve a crisis but then immediately returning to his farm after saving Rome.
Caesar had achieved great successes for Rome, but accepting this title threatened to make him something Rome had intentionally rejected for centuries—a monarch.
In one of history’s greatest ironies, the senators killed Caesar to restore the Roman Republic, but they ended up bringing about its ultimate demise, as a bloody civil war saw the emergence of the first emperor, Caesar’s nephew Augustus.
Redeeming the Ides of March
Another Ides of March brought about a similarly ironic fate in 1783.
George Washington led the Continental Army in the Revolutionary War, and while the British had already surrendered at Yorktown in 1781, they had yet to sign the Treaty of Paris acknowledging America’s independence in September 1783.
The army, camped near Newburgh, New York, and still active because America was still at war, harbored grievances against the Continental Congress, because Congress hadn’t paid them.
An anonymous soldier circulated two inflammatory letters, suggesting the Army do more than just ask nicely for more money. The first letter urged Army leaders to “suspect the man who would advise to more moderation and longer forbearance.” The second suggested that Washington supported an aggressive plan to move against Congress.
It seemed the Continental Army might take up arms against America’s fledgling government. Some analysts have suggested the Army might have tried to make Washington a king.
Whatever the true goals of this Newburgh Conspiracy, Washington took a firm stance against it.
“This dreadful alternative, of either deserting our country in the extremest hour of her distress, or turning our Army against it … has something so shocking in it, that humanity revolts at the idea,” Washington wrote in his manuscript of the address. Any man suggesting it must be “an insidious foe” against the Army and his country, the commander-in-chief said.
He urged the Army to trust Congress, and not to “tarnish the reputation of an Army which is celebrated through all Europe for its fortitude and patriotism.”
Captain Samuel Shaw recalled that Washington read a letter from Congress, expressing admiration for the Army. While reading, Washington “made a short pause, took out his spectacles, and …
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