In the grand tradition of decadent Roman banquets and self-aggrandising displays, Donald Trump has fully embraced his role as the modern-day Trimalchio, the infamous wealthy libertine whose hosting of an extravagant dinner at his palatial abode is described in the Satyricon of the first-century satirist Petronius.
While Trimalchio may live in a world of lavish banquets, absurd opulence and egotistical posturing, it is apparent Trump has taken this lifestyle to new, presidential lows in the modern era.
Much like Trimalchio, a freedman who is obsessed with demonstrating his acquired wealth through ostentatious gestures (think golden swimming pools and a feast of roasted pigs served with their heads still attached and stuffed full of Roman delicacies), Trump has demonstrated a penchant for creating spectacle — whether it is turning a national emergency into a photo op with a shiny Sharpie-drawn border or hosting populist rallies reminiscent of the chaotic grandeur of a Roman triumph with the relentless march of self-congratulatory excess and a gleeful crowd of plebeians (read "deplorables").
Both Trimalchio and Trump share a deep affection for public spectacle, seemingly unaware that anyone with a hint of common sense, rationality, true education and moral values is cringing at their buffoonery. Trimalchio’s idea of self-promotion in the Satyricon is an outlandish dinner party, complete with crude and often confusing spectacles meant to remind his guests of his immense wealth, superior status and supposed knowledge, much like Trump’s rallies, where the entertainment is often served with a side of insulting one-liners and bizarre tirades, not to mention claims of superior ability and knowledge.
Who can overlook the times that Trump, mirroring Trimalchio, has proudly boasted that "nobody does it (or knows it, etc) better than me"— in reference to (for example) his own perceived strength, his knowledge of the Bible, building walls, promoting equality, his respect for women, his grasp of trade, comprehending nuclear horror and understanding debt and taxes.
In the Satyricon, Trimalchio uses his power to mock the poetry of his guest Eumolpus, fling humiliating abuse at his wife Fortunata, and to exhibit cruel and demeaning physical treatment of his slaves. Trump similarly flaunts his power to oppress and humiliate others, from mocking disabled reporter Serge Kovaleski to cruelly separating families at the border between US and Mexico.
Both characters are defined by a self-centred disregard for others and by the use of their wealth and status to degrade those around them while seeking to elevate their own egos. Their cruelty and the suffering of others becomes a tool for their own gratification.
And let us not forget Trimalchio’s penchant for exaggerating his origins. From humble slave beginnings, Trimalchio loves to boast about (and crassly depict on the walls of his house) his rise from the "lower classes", despite his guests knowing that his wealth ultimately stems from more questionable sources.
Trump’s similarly tenuous relationship with reality — such as the myth of the self-made billionaire — echoes Trimalchio’s self-congratulatory narrative of pulling himself up by his own toga straps.
But perhaps the most striking similarity between Trimalchio and Trump lies in their self-obsession. Trimalchio’s dinner guests laugh at Trimalchio on account of his ignorance and buffoonery behind his back as he swans about in his gilded cage, but he seems entirely unconcerned by the ridicule.
The fact that the world sees him as a joke is, in his mind, just more evidence of his grandeur. Trump, too, does not seem to be fazed unduly by public critiques, as shown by the fact that he has described himself on numerous occasions as a "very (or extremely) stable genius" and dismissed anything that challenges his narrative as "fake news".
If Trimalchio’s grotesque banquet in the Satyricon has taught us anything, it is that his reign as host came to a swift and messy end, with his dinner guests fleeing the scene.
Whether Trump’s arc will follow a similar trajectory remains to be seen, but one thing is for sure: we are all here for the ride, like it or not, with wine and grapes in hand.
The real question is this: how much damage will be done to the United States, the world and millions of lives before the absurd spectacle ends?
• William J. Dominik is an American classicist and Emeritus Professor of Classics at the University of Otago.
