"Falling in Love"

I've always thought "falling in love" an unfortunate expression, especially when it leads to marriage, because "falling" suggests an accident—like someone falling into a hole.  I’m tempted to think we should put a little reason into the romantic equation and not let love and marriage be a total accident.  One solution of course is to keep them separate, as in Oscar Wilde’s famous quip:  “One should always be in love.  That is the reason one should never marry.”

But using your head in matters of the heart seems at first blush a huge sacrifice—and it may well be too much to ask.  I recently watched a television drama in which an American traveling in Europe was puzzled by a beautiful girl who was engaged to a hard-working, box-like guy who lacked all romantic possibilities.   The American asked the beautiful girl why she was engaged to this overly earnest, stolid sort of man, and she replied, "You live in the richest country in the world.  You can afford to have emotions."  She was using her head, you see.  She had made the smart choice.  But had she given up too much?

According to online statistics, arranged marriages make up some 55% of marriages worldwide, and the divorce rate is an incredibly low 6%.  In America the divorce rate is between 40 and 50%.  “Learning” to love is after all different from “falling” in love, but the longer, slower way around may yield firmer and deeper relationships, lifetimes of commitment that are probably very happy in their way. 

What a shame it has to come at such a cost.

Republicans and Emperors

In 49 BCE, at the tail end of the glorious, democratic, six-hundred-year-old Roman Republic, Julius Caesar led his army across the Rubicon River in northeast Italy and thus crossed the point of no return, for he knew his action defied both tradition and law and that he and his army would soon be entering Rome, taking it by force.  He knew he was leading a revolution.  “The die is cast,” he famously said as he crossed the river, understanding full well what he was doing and what it meant, that he was challenging by main force the entrenched, senate-run government that was buckling under the weight of widespread popular unrest.    

The very same Romans who were challenging Senate rule, welcomed Caesar as their savior, but overcoming six centuries of entrenched government also created chaos as opposing parties vied with each other for power—which made the government even more unstable.   The people looked to Caesar to calm the waters, to restore order, to bring peace back to the city and the republic.  They wanted him to be king, a title Rome had proudly done without for some six centuries.  It was a matter of pride that they had no king, so Caesar wisely refused the offer, but then not-so-wisely accepted the same position rephrased as Rome’s "Dictator for Life."

            Clearly this was a semantic evasion, which led the most conservative Senators, calling themselves the Liberators, to plot and successfully assassinate Caesar on the Ides of March, 44.  So the democratic Roman Republic, which had long been run by a conservative ruling class, was threatened by a leftist revolution supporting a dictator who was then assassinated by Senate conspirators.  The political landscape of conservative Senators and military revolutionaries shifted so quickly that it was all but impossible to determine which party was actually conserving the glories of the Roman Republic.  They probably both thought that’s what they were doing. 

            Gradually, after Augustus, Caesar’s adopted son and heir, took the reins of government, the Roman Empire was born and lasted another five hundred years, a long saga of Roman emperors, ranging from the very good like Augustus and Marcus Aurelius to the very bad like Caligula and Nero, a long era of Dictators for Life.

What does this long history of Roman power and grandeur tell us?  That the justly celebrated and democratic Roman Republic ran out of steam after about 700 years and was replaced by an autocratic government led by a succession of famous and infamous Roman emperors, all of whom led an undemocratic  system that eventually self-destructed too.  But altogether, the Republic and the Empire lasted an astounding twelve hundred years.  Rome prospered under both forms--then crashed and burned under both forms.

Conclusion:  Democratic republics aren’t any more successful in the grand scheme of things than the rule of tyrants.   Damn it.