Smoke rising for the American empire

Otago Daily Times

22-05-2025

Donald Trump and Nero have, worryingly, much in common, William J Dominik writes.
Donald Trump is not just following in Nero's footsteps — he is resurrecting some of the dynamics that damaged the stability and prosperity of the Roman empire.
Like Nero, the possibly demented emperor chronicled by the biographer Suetonius and the historians Tacitus and Dio Cassius, Trump uses spectacle, manipulation and lies as tools of power. What is more chilling is that the lessons of ancient Rome are playing out in real time in the United States today.
Suetonius, in The Twelve Caesars, describes Nero as a ruler obsessed with public admiration. He appeared in the guise of a singer, an actor, a dancer and a charioteer — as if his role as emperor was nothing more than a performance. Trump's rallies, filled with rhetorical flourishes, chants and self-congratulation, mirror this obsession with the stage.
The difference? While Nero performed on the Roman stage, Trump now commands the media stage 24/7 by cultivating a cult of personality that thrives on spectacle. Tacitus, in his Annals, paints a far darker, more sinister portrait. He portrays Nero as a master of manipulation and fear to keep both the Senate and the people in line.
When the Great Fire of 64CE ravaged Rome, Nero's response was typical: self-preservation over leadership. While Dio Cassius claims in his Roman History that Nero sang and fiddled with his lyre while Rome burned, the reality is that he focused on consolidating his power even as the city smouldered.
In the midst of a crisis, he shifted blame to scapegoats (namely, the Christians) allowing him to maintain control while stoking division. Fast forward to Trump. When the Covid-19 pandemic ravaged the nation during his first term, Trump followed Nero's script. He downplayed the threat, attacked the very experts tasked with saving lives and diverted attention away from his administration's failings by fuelling conspiracy theories and attacking "enemies of the people".
When the Capitol was stormed on January 6, he performed other familiar acts from the Neronian play script: shifting blame, stirring up violence and offering no real leadership. Like Nero, Trump played to his base by offering it a version of reality that suited his narrative even as the Capitol teetered on the edge of chaos.
Dio Cassius critiques Nero for his cruelty and his ability to manipulate the masses. He writes that Nero, though once beloved for his populist rhetoric, grew increasingly tyrannical and distrustful of the Senate as his rule progressed, thereby gradually alienating all who were of any worth. Trump, too, has waged war on institutions and attacked the press, the judiciary and anyone in the political establishment who dares to challenge his perspective and agenda.
His war on institutions and the media mirrors Nero's attacks on those who disagreed with him. In both the Roman and American contexts, Nero and Trump, respectively, have viewed the control of information as the key to maintaining effective control and power.
Both Nero and Trump are known for employing loyalists who carry out their whims without question. Nero's advisers were hand-picked for their ability to flatter, not challenge. Dio Cassius recounts that those senators who listened attentively to Nero and loudly cheered him were commended and honoured; the rest were denigrated and punished.
Trump, too, surrounds himself with sycophants who serve his interests, even when it means sacrificing integrity or competence and seeks retribution against those who speak out against him.
The parallels are uncanny: a leader who demands unwavering loyalty, punishes dissent and puts personal power above the good of the state. Perhaps the most striking similarity comes from Nero's final days. Suetonius famously records that as Rome burned around Nero, he declared, "What an artist dies in me!" His sense of grandeur and self-worth was such that, even in his destruction, he saw himself as a misunderstood genius. Trump, too, sees himself as both martyr and saviour.
He is not just a politician: he is the sole voice of the "forgotten" people, misunderstood and persecuted. His defiance against legal accountability, his false claims of a stolen election and his relentless pursuit of revenge all point to a narcissistic sense of self-importance — just like Nero's.
The most terrifying lesson from Rome is that the republic does not fall in one dramatic act. It dies slowly, from within, as the pillars of societal and institutional norms are eroded by a leader who sees them as obstacles to personal glory.
Nero's reign left a legacy of division, cruelty and distrust. The United States risks the same fate under Trump. He does not just challenge the norms of democracy — he subverts them in an attempt to remake them entirely by rewriting reality to fit his vision. Rome survived Nero, but it did so at a cost.
The empire was never the same after his reign. We are at a crossroads now, with Trump's rise threatening the same kind of moral and political decay. America has a choice: It can wake up to the lessons of Rome or continue down the path of political, social and economic decline. The flames are here — and they are being fed by the very leader who claims to "drain the swamp".
The pillars of the American republic are still intact despite the assault on the Capitol, but the foundation is eroding. America may not yet be the Rome of 64CE, but with the smoke on the horizon looking strikingly similar, the fiddling has already begun.
■William J Dominik is an emeritus professor of classics at the University of Otago.