The Rise of History’s Greatest Emperor: An Untold Story - Alex Petkas

Alex explains that history can either debilitate you by overloading your mind with facts and skepticism, or it can 'quicken and enliven' you if you use it correctly. The correct way is the monumental approach: you're not seeking perfect data, you're seeking examples of human greatness that ignite your ambition. The goal is emulation and imitation. He suggests that this is what great figures always did — Caesar with Alexander, for example. It’s about finding resonance: someone whose story 'cracks you open' and makes you realize what you’re supposed to be doing. This is a deliberate practice, not a passive consumption of information.

Alex gives the example of Caesar always fighting in the front lines alongside his centurions. He was often the first to charge, personally risking death. This generated stories that spread through the army and created a culture where soldiers would rather commit suicide or eat weeds than surrender. Alex contrasts this with leaders who direct from safety, noting that Caesar’s physical presence in danger was a key reason his men revered him.

Alex emphasizes that Caesar memorized the name of every centurion in his army — roughly 375 men. This was an intense effort, but it paid off in creating a cadre of officers personally devoted to him. It’s a practice that modern leaders can emulate by focusing on key team leads and sub-leaders.

Alex explains Caesar would eat the worse olive oil if that’s what the troops had, would sleep on the ground if his officers had to, and would refuse special beds, giving the one bed available to the weakest among them. This ethic removed any sense of ‘us vs. them’ within the army and was a cornerstone of his ability to command under starvation conditions like at Dyrrhachium.

Alex notes Caesar was always in debt but always found ways to pay it off because he used money as a means to an end. When he conquered Gaul and became immensely rich, he didn't keep the wealth; he gave it away. This was a core political strategy: he bound Pompey and Crassus to him by addressing their needs, and bound his soldiers with bonuses and gifts. Alex presents this as an insight about where real power lies — in relationships, not bank balances.

Alex presents Caesar's refusal to divorce Cornelia and his prosecutions of corrupt governors in his 20s as intentional PR stunts. Even though he lost some cases, he established himself as the anti-establishment, populist figure that the masses would love. The Sulla defiance was a gamble: if he survived, people would talk about it forever — and they have, for over 2,000 years. This is the principle of calling your shot early to set the trajectory of your entire narrative.

Alex describes how before battles, Romans would sacrifice animals or observe sacred chickens to read the omens. Anthropologically, this is understood as a way to open a space for intuition. A general might know the right move but can't fully explain it to anxious troops; the omen provides a culturally acceptable reason. Caesar’s wife Calpurnia had a bad dream before his death; the omens repeatedly warned him. Alex thinks this is compelling as a way to listen to your gut. In modern life, one might use a decision journal or a trusted advisor to serve a similar function.

Alex starts by explaining his own struggle to articulate why Roman history matters for modern people. He credits Nietzsche's early book 'On the Advantage and Disadvantage of History for Life' for providing a framework. Nietzsche distinguishes between three modes of history: antiquarian (collecting facts), critical (judging the past), and monumental. The monumental approach, embodied by Plutarch, looks to the past not for precise data but for models of greatness. One seeks a figure who represents the highest version of what one could do with one's own life — a resonance that reveals one's potential. Nietzsche quotes Goethe: 'I hate all knowledge that does not quicken and enliven me.' Alex argues that history at its best is about emulation and imitation, finding your true self through the lives of the great. This counters the modern tendency to treat history as either dusty scholarship or ideological critique; it’s a call to use the past as a mirror for ambition.

Alex describes the story as his favorite about Caesar. Caesar is in the temple of Hercules in Spain with friends; they are admiring statues when they notice he has stopped before a statue of Alexander. He is weeping. When asked why, he says, 'Do you not think it is a matter for tears that when Alexander was my age, he was the ruler of so many great peoples and yet I have done nothing worthy of great renown?' Alex stresses this is one of only two recorded instances of Caesar crying, as Romans were more restrained than the weeping Greeks of Homer. For Alex, this moment is about Caesar looking back on his twenties and realizing he has been coasting. It’s a painful realization of the gap between his potential and his achievements. For us, the lesson is that we need to approach history the same way — looking for that specific figure whose life reveals what we should be doing. Alex admits he doesn’t have that personal resonance with Caesar himself, but the principle applies universally: find the person whose example tells you who you should become.

Alex sets the context: Caesar as a young man married the daughter of Cinna, the populist leader and enemy of Sulla. After Sulla wins the civil war, he purges enemies via proscriptions, rewriting the constitution. Sulla tests young men by ordering them to divorce wives connected to his enemies. Pompey obediently divorces. Then Sulla orders 18-year-old Caesar to divorce Cornelia. Caesar says, in substance, 'go screw yourself' and skips town. Sulla sends killers. Caesar gets dysentery, is captured, bribes his captors to take him to his family, who plead for his life. Sulla eventually relents, but warns, 'you are fools if you don't see many Mariuses in that boy.' Alex interprets this act on three levels: first, it was a PR stunt — if he defied the dictator and lived, people would talk about it forever (and they have). Second, it signaled his allegiance to the populist cause and his vision of his future career on the revolutionary side. Third, it was about personal loyalty to his wife and family honor; Caesar was loyal to a fault. Alex notes that Caesar was famously amorous later, but likely faithful to Cornelia while married, and she was the mother of his only child for decades. The episode encapsulates Caesar's grand ambitions even as a teenager.

Caesar, in his early 20s, is captured by pirates while traveling. The pirates demand a ransom of 20 talents; Caesar insists they ask for 50, because he’s insulted by the low sum and knows a higher ransom will increase his prestige. Alex explains the Greek concept of time (honor/price) — honor was quantifiable. While captive, Caesar jokes with the pirates, writes speeches, recites them, and tells them he will come back and execute them all. They think it’s a joke. After being ransomed, he privately raises a fleet, captures the pirates, and crucifies them, but because they treated him kindly, he has their throats slit first to spare them prolonged agony. Alex sees this as the perfect combination of charm, acute political theatre, and ruthless follow-through.

Alex explains that after the civil war, Caesar was reforming a corrupt system that incentivized plundering provinces to recoup election debts. He wanted to end that cycle and systematize governance. But his method meant that all major decisions — who would be consul, who would command armies, what laws passed — flowed from him. For centuries, honor had been distributed by the Roman people through elections and commands. Now, ambitious men who had been educated to pursue honor as the highest external good (per Aristotle's framework of the great-souled man) found themselves reduced to clients of one patron. They would never be independent players; they would forever be Caesar's employees. Alex argues this was 'intolerable... like a meaning crisis for them.' The assassins included not just former enemies but also trusted loyalists like Decimus Brutus, who even dined with Caesar the night before and was a second in his will. He coaxed Caesar out of his home on the Ides of March. The conspirators saw the assassination as a reclaiming of agency, even though it meant they would be remembered as traitors (Dante put Brutus and Cassius in the ninth circle of hell for betraying a friend). Alex notes that they 'saw more meaning in that path than the other path at the time' — there was more self-determination.