Spartacus and branding.
By: Oliver, Shiny
Tags: Life, History, Freedom, Self, Culture

Spartacus and branding.

Editing History.

Photo by Craig Zdanowicz on Unsplash

When we look backwards, we get to pick around at history and choose the things we like and pay more attention to them than to the parts that somehow strike us as less sexy.

It’s always been true. It’s always been the case that right at this moment we always see much more advantage in editing history to support whatever we want to say. Which would be a great point to drive home with an example, if I could think of any.

The fact that I can’t think of any examples in pop culture and the media for this attitude of interpreting history in a way that best supports whatever agenda that the public figure spouting his or her own ridiculous interpretation of Spartacus or whatever might be an example by itself, actually. I mean, not too long ago, the public statements of our public figures often rested on historical anecdotes. Once upon a time, history united us. We didn’t all know all the details, but the broad strokes of history seemed to inform the fabric of our conversation.

Or is that just my own rosy reinterpretation of this state of ignorance that has always permeated the human experience? This happy-go-lucky acceptance that seeing as history is so very much I may as well give it amiss and just light up another joint and kind of zone out for a while. I don’t know. It’s possible.

We’re a nervous species, I think. It’s one of our distinctive features. The fact of our overactive imaginations will frighten us into action. Or inaction. I have never perceived any distinctive pattern to show whether we’re more likely to be frightened into action or into inaction. Whichever route looks safer. That seems to be the route we get frightened onto.

It doesn’t take much to frighten us onto a path toward safety. Usually some pithy aphorism will do it.

The pithy aphorism that makes Spartacus such an easily remember historical figure, I think, is the statement that those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it. I haven’t quoted that aphorism right. I don’t think most of us ever do. I don’t think most of us know where it came from. That’s the thing about aphorisms: they’re like the flu. It was probably brought into the office by that coughing person last week, but you don’t know. It could have been the FedEx guy. Patient zero is hard to determine.

Because of our overactive imaginations, startling us towards paths that appear most safe, we jump at the sound of pithy aphorisms that sound deep. I mean, have you ever walked into a crowded room and just whispered, “Live like you’ll die tomorrow,” to the nearest fumbling person? The effect is seismic when he or she begins to feel the effects of the aphorism on his or her sense of wasting their life.

The aphorism that those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it has the word “doom” built right into it. Of course we’re going to trip over ourselves to mollify the sense of dread that arises from our human sense of an overactive imagination.

The human overactive imagination has multiple downsides, though. It does tend to populate our minds with worst case scenarios, which does inspire us to make changes in our lives. That’s unpleasant, but it has its advantages.

The problem is when our overactive imagination collides with our inherent inability to focus. Which also seems like a human trait.

Because, while we have been inspired by the frightening pithy aphorism to go learn some history, what we haven’t been inspired to do is to actually engage our imaginations. We’ve been inspired to mollify a bad feeling, and that’s about it.

As a result, history gets the same treatment as anything else that we wish to consume to appease a quick emotional fix: the sexiest stuff rises to the top, while anything that requires a little bit of work just sort of goes away.

Practically everyone has vague knowledge of Spartacus, the gladiator who led a slave revolt against the Romans. Most of us know too that Spartacus only almost succeeded. He’s one of the examples of noble losers in history — that’s our view. We generally like winners, but losers are cool if you can compare them to Batman. Batman as a symbol matters more than Batman the person — that’s what we keep telling ourselves, since that’s the aphorism that Batman’s persona rests on. Leaving aside the fact that apparently DC doesn’t have the balls to write a Batmen comic which eats the words and tells the story of the society of obsessive, highly trained individuals who take turns being Batman, and rest their obscure cult on the propaganda which is the lie that is the whole Bruce Wayne mythology. Because that would be bomb. But apparently the world’s not ready for it.

Anyway, the point is that as long as the idea of Spartacus can bear some resemblance to the idea of Batman, we’re fine with Spartacus leading an ultimately failed revolution. The idea still lives on.

What I wonder is, what kind of idea are we so in love with that we think Spartacus exemplifies? I’ve always felt like it’s some vague idea of a love of freedom and overthrowing unjust authority in the name of the every man. Something like that.

I can buy into that. My dewy-eyed idea of Spartacus is probably that. Or something like it. Spartacus: lover of freedom and hater of fascism. He’s like Captain America, except with an army of gladiators. So that’s cool, right? A man who came from practically nothing to fight for the rights of a suppressed people. Sounds cool.

I have always kind of wondered about Spartacus and where the popular narrative diverges from the historical events.

They inevitably do. I mean, popular narrative can’t perfectly reflect life. That’ll never sell. We don’t want our inspirational stories to be realistic. That’s not on.

The thing about Spartacus that’s convenient is that there’s not that much written about him, in real life. He was only one of a thousand things happening when he was happening to the Roman Republic, and he wasn’t the biggest thing going. He was always sort of a nuisance and a sideline, so while there is enough written about him that historians know quite a bit about his life, there is no exhaustive biographical material. He also may have been illiterate, so we don’t have anything written by him, so we have no idea what he thought about things. We have what Romans thought about him, and Romans didn’t like him. That does color the narrative.

That being said, the narrative does fairly well cover Spartacus’ actions.

And judging from his actions, it isn’t clear that Spartacus had any particular love of “freedom.” Not on the broad, philosophical, spiritual level, where he would fight for the increased rights of everyone else. That doesn’t seem to have been in his mission statement.

Judging from his actions, he wanted freedom for himself. He encouraged freedom for folks he worked with. But his overall goal mostly seemed to be to ride around in the Roman Republic and raise hell.

Mostly, he acted like a Roman. He raised armies and conducted campaigns in order to obtain treasure. Except that he stayed inside Roman borders to do it, while Rome did it to expand their own borders.

I don’t know the guy. Maybe he wanted to improve the rights of his fellow man. Don’t know. Never met him.

We remember the episode of Roman history involving Spartacus as the Third Slave War.

Which is significant, because of being third.

Which is significant because of having two ones before it.

The thing about the two ones before it — Slave Wars: Episode I and Slave Wars Episode II — is that they did seem motivated by a general interest in creating a better climate of fairness and equality. Not entirely, because this is Rome, and most of the people involved are Romans, and Romans basically equated “freedom” with wealth. Whatever. Point is, the earlier slave wars got started by house slaves and farm slaves. The lowest class of citizen in the Republic. They got together and they raised armies and they tried to win their freedom.

The trouble with those Slave Wars is that they weren’t sexy. Like, at all. I know that they weren’t, because I just read about them, and I can hardly remember any of the details I read. I can’t remember the names of the people involved. I can’t remember the dates or the specific events.

I can remember two things about the first and second Slave Wars. I can remember an overarching feeling that people who taste freedom are loathe to give it up. Just this sense that it seems to be built into humans to hunger for self-possession.

The second thing I can remember about them is how the ringleaders of the first Slave War died.

They died in a gladiator stadium. The Romans put them there to have them get executed by fighting each other, so that the Romans could watch it and have a good time. They did that.

Instead of letting the Romans having their fun, though, these ringleaders didn’t fight. They made a gesture against the general culture of Roman decadence that had inspired the whole slave revolution to begin with. They didn’t try to fight. Instead, they took turns calmly and quietly executing each other.

But that’s not sexy.

Spartacus is sexy. The gladiator who raised an army of gladiators to raise ruckus back and forth across the Roman countryside. That’s sexy.