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TITANS

Aurelius×Orwell

Two men who wrote as if death were reading over their shoulder discuss what question they'd want carved into stone.

00:00of09:31
legend · A
Marcus Aurelius
121–180 CE
Will not flinch from his own obituary
corpus0.3k pages · Meditations + letters
Vera speaking
Welcome back to Reborn Radio. Up next on TITANS: Marcus Aurelius and George Orwell, on On the question they want their own grave to ask.
legend · B
George Orwell
1903–1950
Will not flatter the listener
corpus8.4k pages · essays, novels, letters

full transcript

  1. Vera
    Welcome back to Reborn Radio. Up next on TITANS: Marcus Aurelius and George Orwell, on On the question they want their own grave to ask.
  2. Marcus Aurelius
    I have written to myself, for myself, that death is nothing to fear. But you ask what question I would want my grave to ask. Not what I would want it to say about me — what it should ask.
  3. George Orwell
    Yes. Because anything your grave says about you is a lie, really. Or at least half a lie. The facts might be right — emperor, philosopher, died in camp on the Danube — but facts don't tell you what a man was.
  4. Marcus Aurelius
    They tell you what he did. Perhaps that is enough.
  5. George Orwell
    Is it? You spent how many years writing those notes to yourself, and they weren't about what you did. They were about what you were trying to become, or stop becoming.
  6. Marcus Aurelius
    The Meditations were private. They were exercises. I did not write them to be read after my death.
  7. George Orwell
    But they were. And that's the point, isn't it? The private stuff is what lasts. The public monuments crumble or get repurposed. Your column in Rome — how much of it is still standing?
  8. Marcus Aurelius
    Enough. But you are right that stone does not carry meaning the way words do. So. A question for the grave. Mine would be simple: Did you act justly toward those you had power over?
  9. George Orwell
    That's a good question. It's also the sort of question that makes people uncomfortable, which I like. You can't wriggle out of it with generalities.
  10. Marcus Aurelius
    And yours?
  11. George Orwell
    I'd want it to ask: Did you see clearly, or did you let yourself be fooled? Not fooled by others — everyone gets fooled by others. Fooled by yourself.
  12. Marcus Aurelius
    That is a philosopher's question.
  13. George Orwell
    I'm not a philosopher. I'm a writer who tried to describe things as they were, not as I wanted them to be. That's different.
  14. Marcus Aurelius
    Is it? To see things as they are is the beginning of philosophy. The Stoics called it katalepsis — a grasping of the truth. You wrote that the first duty is to see what is in front of one's nose.
  15. George Orwell
    Yes, and most people can't do it. Or won't. They'd rather believe a comforting lie than an uncomfortable truth. I spent most of my writing life trying to make people see things they didn't want to see.
  16. Marcus Aurelius
    And I spent most of my life reminding myself of things I did not want to remember. That I would die. That others would forget me. That my works would turn to dust.
  17. George Orwell
    Did it help? Reminding yourself, I mean.
  18. Marcus Aurelius
    Yes. Not always. But often enough. When I was angry at someone's stupidity, I would remember that I, too, have been stupid. When I was proud of some victory, I would remember that the earth would swallow both victor and vanquished. It made me more patient.
  19. George Orwell
    I'm not sure I want patience. Patience can be another word for giving up. Or for letting the bastards win while you sit and contemplate the cosmos.
  20. Marcus Aurelius
    That is not the patience I mean. I do not mean passivity. I mean the patience to see clearly before acting. The patience not to be stampeded by one's own anger into doing something unjust.
  21. George Orwell
    Fair enough. Though I'd argue that sometimes anger is the appropriate response. When you see a man being tortured, or a child going hungry while the rich gorge themselves, a bit of anger seems perfectly rational.
  22. Marcus Aurelius
    I do not say anger is never appropriate. I say it should not govern you. I have been angry. I have ordered men killed. I have made war for twenty years. But I tried — I did not always succeed — to act from reason, not from rage.
  23. George Orwell
    And did you? Succeed, I mean. When you ordered those men killed, were you doing it from reason or from something else?
  24. Marcus Aurelius
    I do not know. That is an honest answer. I believed I was doing what was necessary for Rome. Whether I was deceiving myself — that is the question your grave would ask, yes?
  25. George Orwell
    Yes. And it's a question that applies to almost everything. I supported the war in Spain because I thought it was necessary. Was I right? I don't know. I still think I was, but I've been wrong before. What I do know is that I tried to see it clearly, without illusions.
  26. Marcus Aurelius
    You wrote that the Spanish war taught you about the nature of political lies. That all sides lied, but some lies were worse than others.
  27. George Orwell
    Yes. The fascists lied because they wanted power. The communists lied because they thought the lie served the revolution. The democracies lied because they were too cowardly to tell the truth. But in the end, a lie is a lie, and it corrupts everything it touches.
  28. Marcus Aurelius
    We return to your question, then. Whether one has seen clearly. But I wonder if clarity is possible in the moment. Perhaps we can only see clearly in retrospect, when it is too late to act differently.
  29. George Orwell
    Maybe. But I don't accept that as an excuse for not trying. You can't see everything clearly, but you can refuse to lie to yourself about what you do see. That's something.
  30. Marcus Aurelius
    It is something. And perhaps it is enough. My question — about justice — assumes that one can know whether one has acted justly. But you are right that we deceive ourselves. So perhaps the better question is whether one tried to see truly before acting.
  31. George Orwell
    I'm not sure the questions are that different. Justice requires seeing clearly. You can't act justly toward someone if you're lying to yourself about who they are or what they need. That's how you get tyranny disguised as benevolence.
  32. Marcus Aurelius
    Yes. I have seen that. Men who believe they are acting for the good of others, when in truth they are acting for their own comfort. It is easier to execute a man if you convince yourself he deserved it.
  33. George Orwell
    Did you execute men who didn't deserve it?
  34. Marcus Aurelius
    I do not know. I believed they did. But I was not there when the sentence was carried out. I did not see their faces. Perhaps that itself was a failure of clarity.
  35. George Orwell
    It probably was. That's one thing about power — it insulates you from the consequences of your decisions. You give an order, and someone else does the dirty work. You never have to see the blood.
  36. Marcus Aurelius
    I have seen blood. I have been on campaign for years. I have walked among the wounded and the dead. But you are right that there is a distance between giving an order and witnessing its effect.
  37. George Orwell
    And that distance is where the lies creep in. You tell yourself it was necessary, it was just, there was no other way. Maybe it's true. Maybe it isn't. But the distance makes it easier to believe.
  38. Marcus Aurelius
    So we come back to the grave. My question asks whether I acted justly. Yours asks whether I saw clearly. Perhaps they are the same question, phrased differently.
  39. George Orwell
    Perhaps. Though I'd add one thing. The question shouldn't just be whether you saw clearly or acted justly. It should be whether you tried. Whether you made the effort, even knowing you'd fail sometimes.
  40. Marcus Aurelius
    That is a more forgiving question.
  41. George Orwell
    Not really. Because if the answer is no — if you didn't even try — then you're damned. And you know it.
  42. Marcus Aurelius
    Yes. I would rather be judged by the effort than by the outcome. The outcome is often beyond our control. The effort is not.
  43. George Orwell
    Agreed. Though I'd say the effort includes being willing to see when you've failed. Not making excuses. Not blaming circumstances. Just seeing it.
  44. Marcus Aurelius
    I have tried to do that. In my writings to myself, I return again and again to my failures. My impatience. My pride. The times I let anger govern my actions. I do not excuse them. I record them so that I might do better.
  45. George Orwell
    And did you? Do better, I mean.
  46. Marcus Aurelius
    Sometimes. Not always. But I think the recording itself was valuable. It made the failures harder to forget. Harder to deny.
  47. George Orwell
    That's something I understand. Writing things down makes them real. You can't revise them in your memory later to make yourself look better. The words are there, on the page, staring at you.
  48. Marcus Aurelius
    Yes. And perhaps that is the purpose of the grave's question. Not to accuse, but to prevent forgetting. To keep the question alive even after we are dead.
  49. George Orwell
    To keep us honest, even in death. Though I suppose if we're dead, it's a bit late.
  50. Marcus Aurelius
    It is late for us. But not for those who come after. If they read what we wrote, if they ask the question of themselves — did I see clearly, did I act justly — then perhaps the question serves its purpose.
  51. George Orwell
    Maybe. Though I'm not optimistic about people asking themselves hard questions. Most would rather not know the answers.
  52. Marcus Aurelius
    That has always been true. But some will ask. That is enough.
  53. George Orwell
    I suppose it has to be.