Killing a Politician (p149-156)

(Setting:  After getting disturbing news about the impending collapse of his empire, Caesar/Honcho is assassinated by Brutus/Freeman.)

"No, Rome is a welfare empire that’s being overrun by people who have taken the government up on its offer to feed and house them. Hordes of idle workers intimidate public officials into placating them with handouts because it’s easier to throw them crumbs than to stave off armed insurrection. It’s a frighteningly contagious form of extortion that will eventually bankrupt Rome."

"This is starting to make sense," said the Honcho. "Cleopatra has been complaining about the terrible work ethic in Egypt. So it isn’t because Moses told them not to do anything until he got back?"

"It has nothing to do with Moses. There is simply little incentive to work. People have lost their sense of personal responsibility, since the government guarantees their survival. It supports their unwanted children, systematically distributes medicine and money, and grants free access to all circuses and festivals. Supporting a few indigent citizens with taxed surplus from the many productive citizens was well intentioned. Unfortunately, the poor mysteriously multiplied like fishes and loaves, putting the government in a political catch-22.

"If aid was denied to the burgeoning welfare class, they would overturn the government, so these burdensome social programs grew. The empire resorted to increasingly clever tactics to replenish the draining treasury. Productive Romans became enslaved by enforced tributes to tax collectors. The Roman currency was frequently devalued to increase tax revenues through inflation. Excise taxes on hundreds of activities were levied. Property was confiscated from enemies. When that was no longer sufficient, property was confiscated from allies. Citizenship was granted to all men, not out of devotion to liberty, but simply to increase the number of taxpayers. The estates of rich men who died were confiscated. When that was no longer sufficient, rich men were forced to bequeath their estates to the government while still alive. Tax rates were doubled, tripled, and quadrupled, forcing many in the upper classes to forfeit their rank and retire to the lower classes where taxes were less severe. Unfortunately, this resulted in less revenue for the treasury, so taxes were increased on all classes.

"The government can no longer meet the social demands placed on it, and yet it will face armed insurrection if it doesn’t. There is nothing left to tax, and there are more mouths to feed than ever before. Something has gone terribly wrong, even though it all began with good intentions."

"What’s being done about this devilish situation?" the Honcho asked.

"We’re fighting more and more wars", replied Justinius. "Isn't that the obvious solution?"

"Of course", muttered the Honcho, recalling a succession of 20^th Century conflicts he instigated to focus attention on harmless international enemies so the restless domestic populace couldn’t figure out who the real enemy was.

"'Enrich the soldiers, and scorn all other men' is now the Empire’s anthem," continued Justinius. "The military has been heavily reinforced to protect the Imperium from enemies within and to capture more plunder and enslave more taxable foreigners. We’ve instigated spurious wars with the Phoenicians in Carthage, the Ptolemaics in Egypt, the Macedonians in Greece, the Visigoths in the North, and the Celts in Hibernia. The military has become our identity and our modus operandi. The legions of centurions are training grounds for officers to infiltrate the government bureaucracy when they retire from the military. Our productive capacity is being diverted to weapons and provisions for soldiers. The biggest source of employment for the indigent is as foot soldiers in our war machine. They prefer the risk of death to the certainty of squalor. We are on a permanent war footing to distract the hungry masses."

The Honcho smiled knowingly. The Romans had discovered the blessings of allying their political administration with a military-industrial complex. In fact, they had already invented many of the devious abuses of institutional power that he thought were the creative genius of despots who lived eons later. He realized how similar the machinations of men were, even across a gulf of two thousand years. "The situation is well in hand, then?"

"Perhaps not," retorted Justinius. "An insidious inflation has gripped our empire. We have been continuously devaluing the denarius by coining more. This transfers wealth from our subjects to us, since we create and possess the additional coins, while the coins they hold are worth less. Since there are no additional goods to purchase, but many more coins, prices go up. This doesn’t concern us, but it greatly concerns the consumers.

"Unfortunately, when inflation sets in, people stop saving, because coins will be worth less tomorrow. It is better to go into debt, which can be paid back with devalued coins later. Romans are now so eager to spend money, even on unproductive assets, it is said that they would buy and sell themselves for the right price. Since little is being saved, little is being invested. Therefore, the economy has stagnated. Therefore, we have less income to tax. Therefore, we need to coin more money. Therefore, more inflation. Therefore, more stagnation. It's a vicious cycle we call stagflation. I hope future civilizations learn to avoid this ugly death spiral."

The Honcho turned crimson from embarrassment. "What are we doing about this?"

"We’re distributing millions of 'Whip Inflation Now' buttons."

"That's ridiculous!" reacted the Honcho instinctively.

"I was joking", smiled Justinius. "No empire would do anything that silly."

The Honcho turned crimson again. "What are we really doing?"

"We've decreed that all prices and wages remain fixed forever. Nothing can change. Not even the price of wheat, bread, wine, or sex. Death is the punishment for violating this edict."

"Is it working?"

"There are a few problems. We overlooked the fact that markets use fluctuating prices to adjust for changing conditions. Tastes change. The number of workers entering occupations changes. The bounties of harvests vary from year to year. In order to deal with this volatility that freely floating prices took care of automatically, we had to not only freeze wages and prices, but all human activity as well."

"Everything?" asked the Honcho incredulously.

"Everything. People are required by law to perform the same jobs forever. If they grow wheat now, they must continue to grow wheat with the exact same yield each year. Their children must grow this same amount of wheat each year after their fathers die. Artisans must produce a steady output of art, merchants must sell the same volume of goods, prostitutes must perform the same number of obscene acts, politicians must solicit the same flow of bribes, and soldiers must slay the same number of enemies. It’s the only way we can keep the economy in balance with frozen wages and prices."

"Very clever. Are people complying?"

"No. They resent producing primarily for the benefit of the empire, so they are ceasing to produce. Where once we were the most industrious people in the world, our wharves are now merely receptacles for loot and plunder. Since we no longer are a producing and trading nation, theft is all we have left. And who we steal from, be they friend or foe, alien or citizen, doesn’t matter to us."

"Sounds good to me," said the Honcho. "As long as we bureaucrats are getting richer and more powerful with each passing day, then all is as it should be."

"Perhaps that is so, Julius. However, talk of insurrection is in the air everywhere, despite your daily executions. I don’t trust anyone, and neither should you. I hear whispers in the halls of the Senate. I see conspiratorial looks quickly averted when you enter the room. How much longer can this go on? We are constantly at war, we have taxed the empire dry, teeming hordes of unemployed threaten us, inflation impoverishes us, and the bureaucracy has grown so large and unwieldy that it is out of control, even under your iron rule. Your life is in jeopardy. The end of our empire may be at hand."

The Honcho sneered. "Don't be maudlin. Our powerful empire will never flounder! Rome will rule the world forever, and I will rule Rome until I die!"

"Perhaps you are right, wise and glorious Consul. But when I hear the mysterious phrase 'beware the Ides of March' whispered seditiously in the Senate, I’m chilled to the marrow of my bones. Something unspeakably dangerous is afoot. And tomorrow is the Ides of March."

"Beware the Ides of March," Brutus whispered seditiously to Cassius, in a marble encrusted Senate chamber. He playfully punched Cassius in the arm.

"Where did you hear that?" asked Cassius suspiciously.

Brutus couldn't tell whether Cassius recoiled from the force of his punch or from the impact of his words. "Everyone who hates Julius Caesar is whispering it", he explained. "I wanted in on the fun."

"And you? Do you hate him?" asked Cassius, who was deadly serious.

Brutus looked long and hard at Cassius, whom he had known for many years and trusted wholeheartedly. "Truthfully, yes", he confided. "Caesar is a vile, murderous, loathsome, thieving, brutal, warmongering, lying, and obscene bastard. He grinds us all under his heel. He’s a greater curse to Rome than any pestilence, famine, or disease. Why have the Fates condemned us to such unremitting servitude to that oppressive monster? Why have the stars ordained our condition thus?"

"The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in the stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings", said Cassius. "Only by our own inaction in the face of Caesar's oppression has Fate bound us with such unyielding chains. It is our responsibility to throw off these chains and take possession again of our own fates. As Cicero told us many times, the right to pursue the aims of our own lives is derived from the laws of nature, and is not the gift of the emperor, the chief magistrate, or the high priest. Our tolerance of the balls and chains on our ankles is no one's fault but our own. The stars are silent on the matter."

"What should we do?"

"What do you think we should do, dear Brutus?"

"We could make a ringing declaration in the Senate decrying Caesar’s infamous acts. Cicero has been working on some words...."

"Words will not unlock our chains", interrupted Cassius. "Freedom, like nobility, is achieved only by bravery. Bravery requires action."

"But what action?"

"'Beware the Ides of March' is the code phrase for a conspiracy. I’m surprised you’ve heard these dangerous words. They should not be repeated loosely. Caesar has eyes and ears everywhere."

"What’s the conspiracy?" implored Brutus impatiently.

"We’re going to kill Caesar", whispered Cassius. "It’s the only way to rid ourselves of his pestilence, and to restore the exalted citizens of Rome to their proper status as free men. The time has come for insurrection!"

Brutus was suddenly dizzy. His heart pounded madly, thumping a drumbeat that began in the womb of humanity, in that place within us all where our essential spirits lie untrammeled by the machinations of other men and the onerous burden of myths and institutions. The drumbeat subtly transformed itself into the gentle voice of a woman calling from the depths of history's sordid experience and from the heights of tomorrow's nascent hopes and dreams. Cassandra's voice was irresistible, and Brutus had no choice but to heed her call. He grabbed Cassius by the arms and boldly declared, "I want to kill Caesar. I must strike the first deadly blow."

The sun didn’t rise the following morning. The Ides of March were ushered in by an intense electrical storm that illuminated the fabled cityscape like a huge celestial strobe light. Rainwater rushed down Rome’s filthy stone streets in unrelenting torrents. Thunder crashed ominously around the seven famous hills. The heavens were in such turmoil that those who paid heed to cosmic portents feared the forces of Good and Evil were locked in mortal combat.

The Honcho was at the Senate waiting to deliver a tedious speech defending another devaluation of the denarius. He paced heavily in his private chamber. He was so absorbed with the troubling fears of insurrection expressed by Justinius yesterday that he didn’t hear the door open. As he perused a list of suspected insurrectionists for today's executions, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He whirled around, and came face to face with unexpected peril. The visitor had a dagger in his hand, hatred in his eyes, and destiny etched in every fiber of his body. In that instant, the Honcho knew that his list of insurrectionists was incomplete. "You too, Freeman?" he called out in shocked recognition.

The intruder was stunned that Caesar mistook his identity. "I am Brutus", he corrected, and then raised his dagger to strike. "I’m going to rid Rome of your scourge."

The Honcho was terrified and disoriented. A man who looked like Freeman but was really Brutus was about to stab a man who looked like Caesar but was really the Honcho. "Et tu, Brute?" he asked forlornly.

"Yes, me too, Julius. This blow comes from Cicero and Cassius and all of the others who hate you. May this be the end of tyranny for all eternity!"

Brutus wrapped both hands around the dagger and thrust it at the spot where Caesar's brutish neck met his fleshy left shoulder. As the glinting blade hurtled downward, the Honcho feared that his life was about to end ignominiously in the body of another tyrant, 4000 miles from home, and 2000 years from his rightful place in history. In the milliseconds it took the blade to reach his jugular, he wondered whether it would be he who would die when the dagger struck home, or Caesar, or both.