Marcus Aurelius, the Philosopher King
Plato’s political vision as he establishes in the Republic is one where every citizen’s occupation is determined by the nature of their soul. Plato believed that people were born with different qualities of souls which made them fit for certain activities and professions[1]. Some of us are born with attributes and talents which make us better farmers or craftsmen, while others are naturally more suited to fishing or soldiering. But what about our rulers, what type of nature should they possess? When it came to determining which type of soul was preferable for the guardians of a city to have, Plato declared that the guardians should be a “lover of wisdom”, a philosopher[2]. Plato explains this position by using an analogy in which he compares the state to a ship. Plato contends that if one were attempting to discern who among the sailors were the most suited to be the captain, the man best suited for the job will not be the strongest, most cunning or most popular, but will in truth be the one who is interested in such immaterial things as the position of the stars, the time of year and the quality of the weather, things which are all necessary for proper navigation[3]. The philosopher, like the star-gazer aboard the ship, is the one most suited to lead as he is concerned with the true nature of things and not with mere appearances. Plato’s affirmation that the philosopher should rule, although it may seem perhaps a bit self-serving, does seem to possess considerable merit on the face of it. However, few case studies exist in history to help us establish whether or not Plato’s theory actually translates into practical reality. Fortunately, there does exist one case which might prove particularly useful in one such endeavour. Marcus Aurelius, the last of the Five Good Emperors of Rome, has often been touted by historians as being the incarnation of Plato’s ideal of the Philosopher King. As this essay will show, Marcus Aurelius was indeed worthy of such a title, even by Plato’s standards, and his philosophical nature did in fact help him to withstand one of the worst times of crisis that Rome had ever witnessed.
Throughout the Republic, Plato and Socrates establish several criteria by which a real philosopher may be recognized. A philosopher is both born and made, as they must possess the right quality of soul at birth which also needs to be properly guided so that “if educated rightly, will be gentle and moderate”[4]. Temperance seems to Plato to be essential to a philosopher for they must not be distracted by hedonistic desires in their search for truth, which remains their real objective. To be a philosopher is therefore not only a question of intelligence, but of personal virtue as Plato warns of the smart man who, like a clever rogue, uses his intelligence for evil purposes[5]. Plato believed that exposure to sensual pleasures could become for the potential philosopher “like leaden weights, attached to them at their birth, and which drag them down and turn the vision of their souls upon the things that are below”, thus creating the need for them to be educated properly[6]. The philosopher, since he lacks the desire for material gain, will be able to resist the lure of power. The corrupting effects of power are represented in the Republic by the analogy of the ring of Gyges[7]. In this analogy, a ring conferring the power of invisibility upon its wearer would tempt even good and decent men into committing terrible acts. Thus, even a good man may be tempted to inflict unjust harm upon others when he gains great power, like the kind of power that may be granted to a ruler. Plato, in his conception of the ideal city, argues that the citizens should be afforded protection from their own guardians. Since a hunger for power and wealth will necessarily translate into an abuse of the common people, as history has shown us time and time again, the guardians of the city should be frugal and materially minimalistic. Plato goes so far as to deny the guardians the right to own private property[8]. As the search for truth is the only real imperative for the lover of wisdom, temperance is an essential part of the philosophical soul, as the philosopher will not be interested in sensual pleasures. If temperance is necessary to ensure that the guardians do not abuse the citizens, the philosopher therefore becomes the ideal guardian. Additionally, the true philosopher, being only interested in truth, will deny their need for honour, fame or recognition from others[9]. This last criterion is what differentiates real philosophers from those who merely pretend to be philosophers in order to obtain material or social benefits[10]. The search for truth is for the philosopher its own reward and is ultimately a deeply personal endeavour. Through an exploration of Marcus Aurelius’ personal life, we will ascertain whether or not the Emperor possessed these traits and whether he was genuinely seeking the truth.
Marcus was born in the year 121 CE to an influential equestrian family. His uncle-in-law Antonius Pius would be adopted by the ailing Emperor Hadrian and would be named as the Emperor’s heir[11]. When Antonius ascended to the throne, he in turn adopted Marcus by marrying him to his daughter Faustina, and designated Marcus as heir apparent[12]. From this point on, Marcus would have been educated by some of the Mediterranean’s most prominent scholars. Both his Greek and Latin tutors, Atticus and Fronto respectively, were said to have denigrated the fanciful pursuits of philosophy in their teachings, favouring the practical art of rhetoric[13]. Marcus seemed to have been particularly close to his teachers, with Fronto in particular, and was said to have been incredibly diligent in his studies. Despite this, as Marcus grew older he would become fascinated by the teachings of the Stoic philosopher Rusticus, who became his tutor[14]. Even though Marcus was the heir to the most powerful nation in the West, Marcus would adopt the rough Greek robe and was said to sleep on the ground even as his mother begged him to sleep in his bed[15]. This reluctance to engage with materialism and bodily comfort would carry on in his adult years. Marcus admitted he was saddened by his obligation to move into the royal palace on the Palatine Hills and had repeatedly warned himself to not be “too deeply dyed with the purple”. For a society in which rulers were literally deified and in which everyone expected them to conduct themselves as such, Marcus’ caution in approaching wealth and power is remarkable. In his later life he would put to paper what is today recognized as one of Western’s literature most important work: his Meditations. From these facts, we can estimate that Marcus was not only thoroughly educated in the ways of philosophy, but that his temperate nature was suited to the philosophical pursuit.
When Antoninus Pius passed away in 161 CE, Marcus acceded to the Imperial throne alongside his brother Lucius Verus[16]. Marcus accepted to don the purple even though he had at several times protested his coronation. He wrote in his Meditations that although he wished to pursue the philosophical life, he saw it as his duty to uphold the wishes of Hadrian and Antoninus[17]. Marcus’ brother Lucius is generally considered to have been overall less competent in political affairs, and more interested in the pursuit of personal pleasure than in the proper administration of the realm[18]. It had been the wish of Antoninus that the two men rule simultaneously as co-emperors, but it was clear to all that Marcus held greater authority than his brother[19]. Despite this, Marcus insisted that he would not rule unless Lucius be endowed with the same titles and privileges as himself[20]. This once again demonstrates that Marcus was not seeking to maximize his own power to the detriment of everyone else. His decision to share his rule, even when he could have easily brushed Lucius aside, would be adopted by later emperors who would recognize the difficulty of administering alone a territory as massive as the Roman Empire would become. There is no evidence that either of the brothers ever conspired against the other to gain more power for themselves, despite the presence of a long Roman tradition of political backstabbing and dynastic usurpation. As Marcus became arguably the richest man on the continent, he reluctantly moved into the luxurious imperial palace on the Palatine hills and criticized himself in the Meditations for giving in to the excessive pomp of palatial life[21]. Yet he had been praised by the populace for his lack of excessive displays of wealth and circumstance[22] that the Roman Emperors were so renowned for.
These facts reinforce the notion Marcus was not interested in the pursuit of power nor was he interested in the accumulation of material belongings. Yet, the objection could still be raised that he simply acted this way to, as Plato suggests in the Republic, take up the appearance of a philosopher in order to earn praise from others. However, the fact that Marcus only addresses himself in the Meditations and that the writing of the book seemed to have been a lifelong process points to the fact that Marcus intended his writings to serve only a personal purpose, something like a private journal meant for his eyes only[23]. The book was only published after his death and had been given no proper title by Marcus, the name “Meditations” only being a convention[24]. Thus we can conclude that Marcus was not interested in the honours society might bestow on a philosopher, but that he was genuinely worthy of the title of Philosopher King.
Since the facts of Marcus’ personal life seem to point to the fact that he was indeed a Philosopher King, we should consider whether the rule of such a man is truly beneficial to society. Though the reign of Antoninus had been marked by peace and stability, Marcus’ reign would be defined by a series of internal crises and perpetual conflict on the borders[25]. Almost immediately after his ascension to the throne, the river Tiber overflowed, causing extensive damages to the city of Rome and its outskirts, plunging the city into a famine[26]. Marcus and Lucius spared no expense in providing grain for the citizenry, often using funds from their own coffers. As neither brother possessed any type of military experience, the neighbouring empire of Parthia to the East, sensing weakness, had decided to assert its claims to Armenia, marking the beginning of the Parthian War of 161 CE[27]. The war was initially a disaster for Rome, as several legions were lost in quick succession. It was decided that the healthier and more athletic of the two Emperors, Lucius, would go in person to oversee the military matters abroad while Marcus would remain in Rome to see to the proper administration of the city[28]. Marcus was known as an indefatigable legislator and applied himself to his duty with the utmost diligence[29]. Writing to his old mentor Fronto about how stressed he had been while on vacation, Marcus admitted he had spent all of his leisure time solving judicial issues[30]. When the war with Parthia finally came to an end, the soldiers brought back from the East the Antonine Plague which ravaged the Empire[31]. This disastrous outbreak of disease was accompanied by troubling news from the Northern border where several Germanic tribes were migrating across the Danube in ever greater numbers and threatening the integrity of Rome’s boundaries, as the roaming tribes looked to settle on Roman soil[32]. Being temporarily beaten back, the tribes would come back in greater numbers in a series of conflict which lasted almost fourteen years. Marcus would consider letting the Germans legally settle in Roman provinces and become Roman citizens to solve the issue, but it was not enough to secure the Northern border. Marcus therefore undertook an expansion of Roman territory northwards so as to take advantage of the mountainous terrain in order to reduce the size of the frontier, an endeavour which ultimately proved a moderate success[33]. In 175 CE, the legate of the Province of Asia, one Avidius Cassius, had received news that the Emperor had died fighting near the Danube. Avidius Cassius declared himself the new Emperor and enrolled his troops in a rebellion against Rome[34]. When news came that Marcus was not only still alive, but was sailing across the sea to put down the rebellion, Avidius Cassius was killed by his own men who, in an attempt to save their own lives, sent the head of their commander to the Emperor in a display of loyalty[35]. Marcus did not wish to see the decapitated head and was saddened by the death of a man he had once considered a friend[36].
The irony of the Philosopher King’s rule being one of constant war has been pointed out by many. Yet Marcus seemed to have only mobilized violence in response to aggression and was not the initiator of conflict. Despite having to face crisis after crisis, Marcus dutifully and efficiently managed the affairs of the Empire and saw to the needs of his citizens. Being uninterested in wealth, Marcus gave away his money to feed his people. Uninterested in power and glory, Marcus gave command of the Eastern front to his more martially inclined brother, though he assumed command in the North in 169 CE after Lucius’ death[37]. What he was interested in, the exercise of justice and the wellbeing of his citizens, he saw to with diligence, zeal and wisdom. The combination of plague, famine and war tends to be a potent recipe for civil unrest, yet the Empire remained remarkably stable. The fact that Rome did not lose any of its territories during that time or that political stability was maintained at all speaks volumes about the abilities of the Emperor.
Being remembered as one of the Five Good Emperors alongside the likes of Trajan, Marcus Aurelius’ legacy lends credence to Plato’s theory of the Philosopher King. Yet whether or not Marcus’ philosophical nature was essential to his success is maybe unclear. Perhaps similar results could have been achieved by one who was not so philosophically-inclined. After all, the historian Michael Grant describes Marcus as an Emperor more remembered for his writings than his deeds, which can be construed as a positive or a negative. Certainly, great deeds necessarily make for a great ruler whereas great writings do not. Yet it is possible to qualify Marcus’ deeds as great and his writings as even greater, a position which I am partial to. Though the efficacy of the philosophical nature in the determination of who makes a good leader remains debatable, if one had to choose between a ruler who was a philosopher and one who was not, choosing the philosopher does seem like the better bet, especially when one looks at Marcus Aurelius.
However, it is also telling that Marcus’ reign is widely seen as the beginning of the decline of Rome, for Marcus did not heed Plato’s warning about the dangers of dynastic rule. Foregoing a tradition which had begun with the first Emperor Augustus, Marcus did not adopt a capable heir into his family, but chose instead to name his own son Commodus to the line of succession, a decision which would prove ultimately disastrous for the people of Rome. Commodus was far from possessing the philosophical nature of his father, and his reign of debauchery and hedonism would plunge the Empire into chaos. Though some defend this decision, citing the crippling lack of suitable candidates, this still serves as a reminder that not even true philosophers are infallible and that Marcus Aurelius, despite his truly remarkable character, remained a flawed human being.
Perhaps the most condemnable fact about Plato’s theory of the Philosopher King is that it can only be applied in absolutist forms of government. It is difficult to imagine someone who not only does not wish to rule but also refrains from chasing popular recognition and fame to ever win a democratic election. What makes the philosopher ideal as a ruler is also what ensures they will not be elected into office. If there was no supreme authority which dictated that Marcus was to become emperor, Marcus would most likely have never even gotten involved in politics. It has become somewhat of an aphorism at this point to state that an enlightened monarchy is the most desirable form of government, but the difficulty in discerning who is fit to rule makes this kind of system inherently inconsistent. In an enlightened monarchy, the balance of power is preserved through the integrity of the monarch, while in a democracy it is ensured by the structure of the system itself. This makes democracy less efficient but more consistent, as even poor leaders cannot by themselves bring the whole of society into chaos, regardless of whatever is going on in the United-States.
The reign of Marcus Aurelius ultimately brings vindication to Plato’s theory, even if it struggles to fit into a modern conception of politics. If there ever comes a way to ensure our elected officials possess the philosophical nature, we should not hesitate in implementing it. The means to do so, of course, remain to be discovered.
Footnotes:
[1] Plato, Republic. 370b
[2] Plato, Republic. 376b-376d
[3] Plato, Republic. 488a-489c
[4] Plato, Republic. 410d
[5] Plato, Republic. 519a
[6] Plato, Republic. 519b
[7] Plato, Republic. 359d-360d
[8] Plato, Republic. 458d
[9] Plato, Republic. 489c
[10] Ibid
[11] Historia Augusta p.133–135
[12] Ibid
[13] Historia Augusta p.137–139
[14] Historia Augusta p.139
[15] Ibid
[16] Historia Augusta p.159
[17] Grant, Michael. The Roman Emperors: a Biographical Guide to the Rulers of Imperial Rome 31 BC — AD 476. Scribner’s, New York. 1985. P. 92
[18] Historia Augusta P.209
[19] Historia Augusta P.215
[20] Historia Augusta P. 151
[21] Michael Grant, Roman Emperors. P.92
[22] Michael Grant, Roman Emperors. P.91
[23] Michael Grant, Roman Emperors P.93
[24] Ibid
[25] Michael Grant, Roman Emperors P.89
[26] Historia Augusta P.153
[27] Ibid
[28] Michael Grant, Roman Emperors P.90
[29] Ibid
[30] Cornelius Fronto, De Ferii Alsiensibus P.218
[31] Michael Grant, Roman Emperors. P.89
[32] Ibid
[33] Ibid
[34] Michael Grant, Roman Emperors P.95
[35] Ibid
[36] Ibid
[37] Ibid
