The Ides of March Bloodbath: Caesar’s Fall and the Power Lesson We Can’t Unlearn
By Jeremy Ryan Slate
When we say “Ides of March,” what does it mean and what is its cultural significance? The important point to start is to understand the Roman system of dating.
The Romans had a wild way of keeping time, and it’s worth a quick detour. One of Caesar’s famous reforms was to fix the Roman calendar. It was off by 30 days and thus they would have to add a month every few years, leaving the seasons quite off; hence the Julian Calendar.
Augustus, Caesar’s heir, would also later change the name of two months in the middle of the year: July for Julius and August for Augustus. You’ll also notice the strangeness in the word roots of the Roman months—December, whose root is Decem in Latin, meaning ten; or November, its Latin root Novem, meaning nine.
In terms of how Romans structured a month, they didn’t use our neat little 1-to-31 calendar system. Instead, they anchored each month around three key days: the Kalends (the 1st), the Nones (around the 5th or 7th), and the Ides (the 13th or 15th, depending on the month).
For March, May, July, and October, the Ides landed on the 15th. It was tied to the full moon, which gave it a sacred, almost ominous vibe in Roman culture—think of it like their version of Friday the 13th, but with more togas and less hockey masks. So when someone muttered “Beware the Ides of March,” it wasn’t random—it was a red flag on a day that already felt charged.
Ides of March—March 15th, 44 BC, to be exact. It’s the day Julius Caesar was hacked to death. One of Caesar's boldest moves upon becoming dictator was to pardon his enemies. This strategy, by which he was attempting to keep the populace under control, ended up being his undoing.
Have you ever wondered about the significance of the Ides of March and why it continues to be relevant today? It's not just a story about a man in a toga being stabbed, but one about power, betrayal, and lessons that we still haven't learned.
First off, Julius Caesar wasn’t some random senator. Rather, Caesar was one of Rome's greatest generals; it's debated whether he or Scipio, who defeated Hannibal, was the better general. He’d conquered Gaul (think modern-day France and then some). He's the missing piece in Rome's fall from a Republic to an Empire. He's not the one that starts the process, he's not even the one that finishes the process, but he's the important connecting piece to the man that does finish the process: Augustus.
By 44 BC, Caesar had declared himself “dictator for life.” To give some background here, Rome was traditionally run by two men called consuls. Before being a republic, Rome had been a kingdom, so Romans feared the idea of kingship. The office of dictator was supposed to last six months because Romans believed that one man could solve a situation faster than two. Previously, Sulla (Elon Musk’s favorite Roman), had been dictator from 82 to 78 BC, during which time he claimed he needed the power to restore the republic. The idea of a dictator for life was something Rome had never seen before.
It was the Ides of March, and Caesar strolled into the Theatre of Pompey, Rome's equivalent of a modern conference center. He felt invincible and disregarded the soothsayer's warning about March 15. This would prove to be a fatal mistake. A group of senators, led by Brutus and Cassius, assassinated Caesar in what they claimed was an act to "save the Republic." However, their actions were driven by a desire for power disguised as patriotism— a recurring theme throughout history.
So, mid-meeting, these guys surround Caesar, and go full Tarantino on him—23 stab wounds, no less. Brutus, Caesar’s supposed protégé (and maybe even his illegitimate son, if you buy the rumors), lands one of the blows.
That’s where we get the famous “Et tu, Brute?” line—Latin for “You too, Brutus?” It’s less a historical fact and more Shakespeare’s poetic flair, but it captures the gut punch of betrayal. It’s more likely, if Caesar said anything at all, he would've said "They do this to Caesar?” Caesar collapses, and just like that, Rome’s biggest player is out of the game.
You can still see this part of the Roman forum today. I visited in 2012; it's in the middle of Rome's garment district, surrounded by glass, and populated by an obnoxious amount of cats.
The assassination didn’t “save” the Republic—it blew it up. Instead of restoring the old system, it sparked civil wars, power vacuums, and eventually paved the way for Caesar’s adopted heir, Octavian (later Augustus in 23 BC), to become Rome’s first emperor. Turns out, killing the guy at the top doesn’t fix the system—it just changes the playlist. The Republic ended with Caesar, and the Roman Empire was born. Irony’s a brutal teacher.
So why does the Ides of March stick with us? It’s not just about the drama. It’s about human nature: ambition, loyalty, and the messy fallout when trust goes out the window. Caesar’s story is a warning label on power—grab too much, and someone’s going to push back. Hard. And the Senate? They remind us that even the “good guys” can hide selfish motives behind noble words.
Fast forward to today, and the Ides of March still feels relevant. Look at any political shake-up—whether it’s a corporate boardroom or a government chamber—and you’ll see shadows of Caesar’s last day. People still jockey for power, still stab each other in the back (metaphorically, mostly), and still think they can “fix” things by tearing down the strongman. It rarely works out that clean. History is littered with examples, from Napoleon to modern-day coups. The Ides of March is like a mirror we keep ignoring.
Caesar didn’t just die—he became a legend. His name is still on everything from salads to casinos; even the word C-section, or Cesarean section, comes from the legend of the way in which Caesar was born, and somehow his mother managed to survive. In the cultural zeitgeist, the guy who got betrayed ended up outlasting his killers.
The name Caesar went from becoming a family name, to becoming a title, to finding many other prominent forms, whether it's the German Kaiser or the Russian Tsar. So next time March 15th rolls around, think about this: power is a double-edged sword, and betrayal is a gamble that rarely pays off. Caesar learned that the hard way—so we don’t have to.
Jeremy Ryan Slate is the host of The Jeremy Ryan Slate Show, which studies the highest performers in the world. He studied literature at Oxford University, as well as holding a Master’s in Early Roman Empire Propaganda from Seton Hall University. His podcast was named the #1 Podcast to Listen To by INC Magazine, as well as Top 40 Under 40 by Podcast Magazine.
Jeremy and his wife, Brielle, co-founded Command Your Brand —a new media public relations agency designed to help entrepreneurs share their message by appearing as guests on podcasts. He resides in Stillwater, NJ where he raises chickens and is a former competitive powerlifter.