In Ancient Rome, when a victorious army returned home from battle, the Senate could grant them a Roman Triumph. A Triumph consisted of a city-wide parade where the conquering army marched down the street. The Roman citizens crowded tightly on the sidewalks and in windows, praising the army with their adoration and cheers. The most important part of the processional was the commanding general, who would ride on a chariot drawn by four horses. For this day and this day only, the general was allowed to wear the revered purple robes typically reserved for the Roman Emperor. Additionally, they were granted authority equal to that of the Emperor in what was considered a near-divine bequeathment of power.

The Roman Empire was one of the most powerful and influential civilizations to ever spread across the Earth in human history. So, on this day of Roman Triumph, the champion general was granted all the liberties and responsibilities of the most powerful person in the world. Yet, as the Emperor, Roman Senate, and Roman population celebrated the rise of the general to an exalted position few others would ever understand, they simultaneously recognized the dangers of how such power and ego could consume an individual. To nullify this threat, a second person stood directly behind the general on their chariot. Not a senator. Not a soldier. But a public slave of the state. And throughout the parade, where the general would no doubt be basking in the love of their city, the public slave would whisper in their ear two words over and over: “Memento Mori…”

Memento Mori translates essentially to “remember you must die.” It is a phrase commonly discussed in the Stoic school of philosophy and is at once a reminder of our humility and to make the best out of every moment of life. No human can escape the limitations of their mortality; no matter how high one may rise, this reality is always true. This tradition is a beautiful rejection of pride by the Romans. Even to the most important and loved person in their city, the Roman people knew that at this moment, perhaps more than any other, they needed to remember that they would die. That their life is fleeting. That their pride, glory, vanity, and power can disappear instantly. That their existence is no more unique than the slave behind them whispering in their ear.

As I heard this story, I could not help but compare it to how we treat leaders in today’s society with their successes. Similarly, they are celebrated and paraded around for all to see. Fame and fortune are thrust upon them as they make decisions affecting billions of souls. Yet it often feels as if humility and civic duty are much less important than delivering well-timed, prepared sound bites and criticizing what is wrong with society instead of promoting tangible service.  

On January 20^th, 2025, Donald Trump will be sworn into office as the United States President and become the world’s most powerful person. Following swearing-in, inaugural ceremonies, and a luncheon, the new President will lead a parade from the Capitol to the White House. This procession will consist of ceremonial military regiments, bands, and classic parade-style floats. However, all the media will focus on the person who just assumed the position of triumph. Now, while all the celebration is grand, part of tradition, and essential for the transition of power from one President to the next, imagine if there was a person behind the President whispering in their ear during the parade. As cameras jockey for the right angle behind a mob of people and rows of security, there would be one person with the best view of the President. And for the entire two-mile walk or limousine ride from the Capitol to the White House, that person would only say “Memento Mori.”  As they reached the White House, the President would walk up to his glass-enclosed stand to watch the parade as it passed him (known as the “Pass in Review”) with the same person still standing behind him, saying, “Memento Mori.”

Regardless of the President, I think this would be a worthwhile addition to the inaugural parade. Who, if not the elected leader of the democratic free world, needs to be reminded more of the importance of making every day count? They have now sworn in to do everything in their power and limited life to lead their people properly with a sense of urgency. While politician’s egos and megalomanic tendencies are notoriously large, what better way to appeal to their humanity than by reminding them of their mortality? Does anything bind us more universally as a human species than the inevitable fate to which we will all eventually succumb? Instead of a public slave whispering in their ear, I would envision a randomly chosen citizen from the opposing political party whispering those two words in the President’s ear, driving the point home repeatedly and dutifully.

Realistically, this could play out a lot of different ways if it were to happen. How different Presidents or leaders react to this public reminder would be its own story. But the more I pondered the implications of such an event, the more I appreciated the genius of the Roman display. No doubt, this mortality reminder would have a reflective effect on the victorious general, but I don’t believe that was the primary purpose of the tradition. The parade was an intimate public event where the whole city observed and participated in the proceedings. For every action the general made, an audience watched their every move. The public slave whispering in their ear was not solely a reminder for the general but for every person watching the festivities. It was for you and me, watching on our tiptoes from the sidewalk. The message to everyone was clear: even the mightiest and godliest among us are mortal; do not forget your own mortality. This public symbol must have been strikingly powerful to everyone who saw it. It forged a connection between people and their leaders as they both reflected on their mortality. Furthermore, it must have been an inspirational display when a genuine leader takes their own fragile life and devotes it solely and wholeheartedly to their civic duty. I imagine young men and women watching from the windows as the general passes by, inspired to use their life’s time and energy meaningfully. How many leaders truly inspire others through their actions today?

Lastly, I would like to propose an exercise. I write this primarily for myself and my ego. Next time when you feel proud, when you feel as if you have achieved something worthwhile and good, imagine “Memento Mori” whispered in your ear. There are times in my life when I have felt I could do no wrong, where every choice I made seemed to flow without error. In these moments, I feel invincible, with universal destiny coursing through my veins, guiding my every move. Yet, in these moments, I am vulnerable to reality. I lack humility, temperance, and wisdom. What better way to remind myself of my humanity and its beautiful limitations than to ponder my mortality. It immediately alters my perspective and forces me to escape my ever-hungry ego that feeds off narrow-minded, prideful thoughts and feelings. So next time you find yourself on top of the world, feeling like a king or queen, perhaps imagine someone standing behind you whispering calmly, “Memento Mori…”