Dear Tacitus,
It's nothing new to say that the chaos of my own age is mirrored in the chaos of yours, but it always makes me laugh to read your little summaries.
In a state that was distracted by strife, and that from frequent changes in its rulers trembled on the verge between liberty and license, even little matters were attended to with great excitement.
(Histories, Bk 2, Sect. 10)
The world is a mess, and the only thing that keeps me stable is mediating on the notion that it has always been a mess, and likely, always will. I ponder, if it can't be fixed, maybe it isn't broken. This might just be my nihilism talking, and I am fine with admitting that the current state of politics has made me revert to a baseline disregard for all important events and issues, declaring that nothing can be done to fix a world defined by madness. I throw up my hands rather than wring them – though in truth, the stress has ruined my stomach, and I am gobbling antacid pills by the dozen. So, it is in moments like these that I like to read your book, Tacitus, and to laugh at the everyday horror and madness of your era. It makes my own era make sense.
So it was that I came across this little gem: (Histories, Bk II, 8-9)
About this time Achaia and Asia were terrified by a false rumour of Nero's arrival. The reports with regard to his death had been varied, and therefore many people imagined and believed that he was alive. The forces and attempts of other pretenders we shall tell as we proceed; but at this time, a slave from Pontus or, as others have reported, a freedman from Italy, who was skilled in playing on the cithara and in singing, gained the readier belief in his deceit through these accomplishments and his resemblance to Nero. He recruited some deserters, poor tramps whom he had bribed by great promises, and put to sea. A violent storm drove him to the island of Cythnus, where he called to his standard some soldiers who were returning from the East on leave, or ordered them to be killed if they refused. Then he robbed the merchants, and armed all the ablest-bodied of their slaves. A centurion, Sisenna, who was carrying clasped right hands, the symbol of friendship, to the praetorians in the name of the army in Syria, the pretender approached with various artifices, until Sisenna in alarm and fearing violence secretly left the island and made his escape. Then the alarm spread far and wide. Many came eagerly forward at the famous name, prompted by their desire for a change and their hatred of the present situation. The fame of the pretender was increasing from day to day when a chance shattered it.
The provinces of Galatia and Pamphylia had been entrusted by Galba to Calpurnius Asprenas, who had been given as escort two triremes from the fleet at Misenum. With these Calpurnius reached the island of Cythnus, where there were many who tried to win over the captains in Nero's name. The pretender, assuming a look of sorrow and calling on the soldiers, once his own, for protection, begged them to land him in Syria or Egypt. The captains, either hesitating or acting with craft, declared that they must address their soldiers and that they would return after they had prepared the minds of all. But they faithfully reported everything to Asprenas, at whose bidding they captured the pretender's ship and killed him, whoever he was. His body, which was remarkable for its eyes, hair, and grim face, was carried to Asia and from there to Rome.
I began to imagine such a thing happening here, in my own country. If a dead Prime Minister were to reappear through the actions of an ambitious impostor, and what the media reporting would do with such a story. No doubt, it would reach a fever pitch of vicious debate, with supporters of the impostor being fervent in their support of such a leader, supported by the conspiratorial beliefs either in divine resurrection, or of some other black-ops secret that required the temporary faked-death of their saviour.
This is bigger than fake news, a whole fake leader! I imagine if such a look-alike rose to power while their namesake still lived. What would President Trump say if someone who looked just like him, and who claimed to be the real President, was gaining power and raising an army to march against him? Or, since I live in Australia, what would Scott Morrison do if a new Scott Morrison stood up and claimed to be the real Prime Minister? I think a lot of people would believe in the new-comer simply out of hope.
Or, to keep this fantasy closer in line with your tale of a fake Nero, what would happen if Harold Holt reappeared, declaring his own disappearance and reported death to be a secret service operation? How many people would rally around this new Holt? (I'm not trying to compare Nero to Holt in any serious political sense, however Holt's disappearance in 1967 is still the source of some conspiracies... https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harold_Holt#Disappearance )
Well, it might not actually be funny, but it made me laugh.
So Tacitus, thank you
with Gratitude and Respect.
Morgan.
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