The Problem With Good Intentions

Most school kids will inevitably ask their English teacher, why do we have to read Shakespeare? 

For the answer, we turn to one of Shakespeare’s greatest works, Julius Caesar.

Despite the name, the story isn’t really about Caesar. It’s about his best friend Brutus.

Brutus is a decent guy. He genuinely loves Rome. So when his fellow senator, Cassius, convinces him that Caesar’s growing popularity threatens the Republic, Brutus does the unthinkable. He joins the conspiracy to murder his closest friend.

After the assassination, Brutus steps before the Roman people and explains himself: “Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.”

For a moment, the crowd believes him. Then Mark Antony takes the stage.

With one of history’s greatest speeches, he dismantles Brutus piece by piece. He reminds the crowd that Caesar refused the crown three separate times. He reveals that Caesar left much of his fortune to the people of Rome. And after every revelation, Antony repeats the same cutting refrain: “Yet Brutus is an honorable man.” (Translation: no he wasn’t.)

Within minutes, the crowd turns into a mob. Rome erupts into civil war.

Cassius manipulated Brutus’s idealism. Antony manipulated the crowd’s emotions. And Brutus, believing everyone else was acting as honorably as he was, failed to see either one coming.

By the end of the play, the conspiracy has collapsed. Cassius and Brutus both choose suicide over capture. Brutus’ last words as he falls on his blade are, “Caesar, now be still. I killed not thee with half so good a will.” (Translation: the reasons I’m killing myself are far more noble than the reasons I killed you.)

Idealistic people with good intentions like Brutus enter the halls of power wanting to do good, but because of the greed, envy, and ambition that surrounds them, they end up being used like a rag.

Unfortunately, kids, when you grow up and enter the working world, you will find lots of people like Cassius and Mark Antony. And the higher up the food chain you go, the more of them you’ll find. 

Brutus’ tragedy was that he let his sense of nobility blind him to his colleagues’ true motives.

Every workplace eventually produces its own Brutus: someone trying to do the right thing. 

And its own Cassius: someone whispering in the right ear at the right time. 

And its own Antony: someone who understands that stories are more persuasive than facts. 

This, dear students, is why we still read Shakespeare. If you want to be a strong leader, you must learn to recognize these characters before history repeats itself.