America's 'Bread and Circus' Society Is Not What You Think

Photo by Wesual Click on Unsplash

Many of my fellow Americans love entertainment. We talk about it during group chats and family dinners, post about our favorite shows on social media, and spend long periods glued to a screen—over seven hours a day, according to DataReportal. If one thing is more American than apple pie, it's telling colleagues they have to watch the latest show.

As we shall soon learn, the US government also spends an extraordinary amount subsidizing this and other forms of entertainment. As our society experiences several crises that we might not recover from (e.g., climate change, rising authoritarianism, fascism, etc.), it's clear that we, at least within the heart of the US empire, are living through a doubling down of the “bread and circus” approach to pacification.

In other words, the longstanding joke, "Everything is falling apart, but there sure is good TV," exists for a reason. It relates to how our government has decided to use distraction and comfort as a means of control while denying us the resources we need to survive.

The ye olden circus

By bread and circus, I mean the Latin concept of "panis et circenses," where a government is accused of subsidizing diversionary affairs, such as entertainment and cheap food, over fostering a more robust public life. The phrase is often attributed to the Roman poet Decimus Junius Juvenalis or "Juvenal" (born roughly from 55 CE to 128 CE) in his work "The Satires," specifically number ten.

Some context is probably needed here. For the bread part, Rome, as a Republic, started to subsidize grain at low to no cost under a "Grain Dole" for a significant part of its (citizen) population. The dole was first passed via a law introduced by Gaius Gracchus (154 BCE — 121 BCE), whose tribune was in 123 and 122 BCE. Most grain, not just the grain for this dole, was largely imported abroad from colonial holdings and client states such as Sicily, North Africa, and later in the time of the Empire, Eygpt. The government's management of the "Annona," or food supply, was so vital that it was named after the literal Goddess of said grain stockpiles. It required such a massive amount of investment that, at the time of the Empire, there was a “praefectus annonae,” an official tasked with overseeing it, who had officers throughout the empire.

For the circus element, the Roman government put on elaborate public games and performances called "ludi" that often coincided with major religious festivals. These would occur in all sorts of places, including grand locations such as the Circus Maximus, a massive chariot racing stadium in Rome. These weren't the circuses as we know them today. The Latin meaning of the word references merely "a ring or circular line," talking more about the stadiums and arenas where chariot races and other games were held (note: this is why "bread and circuses" is sometimes referred to as "bread and races" or "bread and games"). The state (as well as wealthy individuals) would host elaborate ludi to appeal to the public, often serving as the Roman people's primary type of entertainment.

Juvenal criticizes the decadence of these festivities, specifically of the rich in his Satires, but also how the aristocracy is bending to the weight of immigrants and “New Money.” He holds a nostalgic, reactionary framing when he introduces bread and circuses, writing:

“[The people] shed their sense of responsibility

Long ago, when they lost their votes, and the bribes; the mob

That used to grant power, high office, the legions, everything,

Curtails its desires, and reveals its anxiety for two things only,

Bread and circuses.”

Juvenal believes here in returning to an earlier time, in this case, the glory of the old Roman Republic, which he thought was a time when people cared more about civic life rather than just subsistence and entertainment. As articulated in the Literature and History podcast:

“Juvenal, especially in the earlier satires…the deeper concern is that Rome’s social order is transforming, that pedigree and education no longer count for anything, and that the old aristocracy, putrefying under the influence of new money, immigrants, and grotesque conspicuous consumption, is hoarding all the wealth while hardworking artists and tradespeople starve on the street.”

It's an opinion filled with half-truths. The Roman Empire was vastly unequal, with many, indeed, starving on the streets. Poor people in the city were frequently crammed into tenements called "insulae." This housing was made of less sturdy materials, making it prone to collapse, as well as a host of other calamities ranging from flooding to disease. As mentioned in the World Atlas: "The first couple of floors [of an insulae] typically were the best to live on. They had larger rooms, windows, balconies, and running water. This was a luxury compared to the upper floors, which usually had one room for an entire family to fit into. These upper rooms often had no natural light, no water supply, or bathroom facilities."

As one of the most populated cities in the world at the time, keeping this down-on-its-luck population in check was vital for any regime's political survival. And yet, to assert, as Juvenal does, that this pacification was also not a defining aspect of Roman democracy during the Republic is ahistorical. Bribing the public for political influence was not a new practice that suddenly came about in his lifetime. As mentioned, it dates back to the Republic when politicians tried to buy voting blocs with grain allotments — a practice that ambitious emperors were keen to adopt.

The wealthy, charismatic, and powerful often tried to leverage the food supply and entertainment for political clout. Juvenal's comments come off as your typical conservative blaming the "masses" for systemic problems—an issue that has remained with us in the modern day.

Modern-day bread

Conservatives today tend to liken programs such as the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) and other welfare programs to this same "bread and circus" critique, casting them solely as individual moral failings. As Conner Tuttle lectured on the conservative The Tuttle Twins podcast:

“When we think about the political problems that we have today, so often, I think it comes down to bread and circuses as well, that so many people are dependent upon the government for their income, food, the benefits. They’re getting subsidies, they’re getting tax benefits, they’re getting food stamps [i.e SNAPs], they’re getting welfare…And so in that sense, the government is giving them bread. It’s giving them money basically, which is the equivalent. They need it to sustain their life.”

The Tuttle Twins are misinformed about the ease of this relationship for the lower classes (more on the upper classes later)—both now and in ancient Rome. Conner Tuttle seems to think that SNAP and other welfare programs are "free money" the government hands out with little thought. However, American Welfare programs are notoriously hard to get on, including SNAP, which is means-tested, meaning, according to the House Budget Committee, the program only "benefits individuals and families living at or near the federal poverty level."

In 2024, that's an income of $15,060 a year for individuals.

There are furthermore work requirements attached to the program, and — barring some exceptions such as homelessness, having a small child, or having a federally recognized disability, etc. — you aren't going to be eligible for too long unless you start working. SNAP also remains heavily stigmatized, both in what you can use to purchase with it (e.g., no hot foods, pet food, alcohol, etc.) as well as there being a gap between the number of people eligible for the program and the number enrolled.

The Roman system also had barriers, particularly for poor people. Under the Roman Empire, the Grain Dole became both more institutionalized and much more limited. The Empire lowered the number of eligible citizens to restrict the overall cost to something around 200,000 citizens (although the number varied depending on what period of history). An enormous bureaucracy was involved in this grain's transportation and distribution, as detailed lists were deemed necessary, so only “qualified” Romans would be entitled to such resources. These positions had long waitlists, and later, since they could be sold or inherited, they tended to bias more established Romans. As written in the Oxford Classical Dictionary:

“The grain distribution was not aimed at curbing poverty in Rome. Recipients who died were replaced by others, but one had to be on a waiting list in order to become a recipient. So it does not seem that the most marginal of Rome’s inhabitants would have been particularly represented on the lists. On the contrary: the lists were probably dominated by those who were settled and well integrated in the city, who had a permanent job or profession, a skill or stable employment. Non-citizens and newly arrived migrants from the Italian countryside were not among the plebs frumentaria.”

This fact may go against our more modern, conservative association to liken such welfare programs to "handouts" for the poor and marginalized. However, as we have just seen, that was not the case in Rome. These programs were about stopping political revolts, not about eliminating systemic poverty. Why would a highly stratified slave state like Rome care about something like that?

America's system is different from Rome's in the sense that programs such as SNAP are generally geared toward more marginalized Americans. Many of its recipients are elderly, disabled, or children, and it goes up when unemployment increases. However, like any program with hurdles, the most marginalized, such as undocumented immigrants, people with drug-related felony convictions in some states, and individuals on strike, are not eligible at all. You can't just be below the Federal Poverty Level and need help to get on this program.

Just like in Rome, proper citizenship (however it is nebulously defined) is demanded.

Given its requirements, SNAP is not geared toward ending systemic poverty either. It has now been whittled down to the point where it is a small part of the budget. All economic security programs are around 8% as of 2023, including everything from SNAP to the Earned Income Tax Credit to school meals to unemployment insurance. Recipients are not given that much — in many cases, less than $10 a day — and that's very hard to live on, let alone move beyond one's class.

It also bears emphasizing that the rest of the welfare system is not much better. Horror stories about the application process surround programs such as Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI) to the point where hiring a lawyer to navigate it is often a must. Regular Social Security can also make huge mistakes with how it calculates payments, and years later, demand that money back once it "corrects" its mistake. Free money is not just being handed out on purpose. Most of these programs require ongoing contributions to the economy for all, but the direst of circumstances and the money provided hardly allows people to "live large" when they do get it.

From where I stand, this difficulty with accessing care is integral to both the American and Roman "bread and circus." True redistribution would place the peasantry and the aristocracy, or in our day, workers and capitalists, on equal footing and is just as dangerous to the upper classes as providing no resources at all. A highly mobilized, cared-for population with tons of leisure time starts to ask fundamental questions about how power is concentrated.

Conversely, the point is to make the minimum investment possible for enough people so that the "masses" do not have the energy to engage in anything but diversions. Rome was not a utopia where poor people lived off the largesse of the government—a vast segment of the population was enslaved and not eligible for such benefits—and the ones who were eligible competed for them on long waitlists they might never get on.

Yet benefits aside, they were more than able to see the games — and, in this regard, America does not seem to be much different.

The modern-day circuses

Unlike the ludi of the Roman Empire, our entertainment today is mainly in the private sector. There are fireworks in the capital of Washington, DC, along with free festivals and museums on the National Mall, but they pale in comparison to the light shows of Disney World or Macy's Fourth of July fireworks. Our “decadence” certainly exists — and we'll get into it — but it's much more enmeshed with corporate actors, and boy, do we have a lot of it.

A great example is sports stadiums. Private entities own the overwhelming number of American sports teams. However, public funds are still used in their construction. According to Clark Merrefield in The Journalist's Resource, summarizing a paper in The Journal of Policy Analysis and Management:

“Across [the MLB, the National Football League, the National Basketball Association and the National Hockey League] there have been eight new stadiums or arenas built since 2020, at a total construction cost of roughly $3.3 billion, according to a September 2023 paper in the Journal of Policy Analysis and Management. About $750 million in public funds went toward those construction projects.”

That's only over three years. We are talking about tens of billions of dollars across the last three decades, where state and local governments have subsidized anywhere from a quarter to over fifty percent of each of these projects. Many of these efforts were and continue to be financed by municipal bonds that are exempt from federal taxes (and often state taxes), which means that we, as taxpayers, ultimately lose out on paying for these constructions while having very little control over them—projects that studies routinely find to be not good public investments. As Roger Noll at the Stanford Institute for Economic Policy Research told Stanford News of one particular construction: "SNFL stadiums do not generate significant local economic growth, and the incremental tax revenue is not sufficient to cover any significant financial contribution by the city."

Stadiums are not the only privately held diversion the American government is investing heavily in, either. Where the Romans had their games, now we have TV. According to Nielson's 2023 State of Play Report, over 1 million unique titles are available to the typical US consumer across all "linear" and "streaming" services, with nearly 100 streaming services and over 30,000 channels. This figure does not include the billions of YouTube videos or the billions more videos across Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, etc. We are a nation inundated with a boundless amount of choices regarding the content we can watch, and the cost is only that of an Internet subscription — something that most Americans have.

Although most of this programming is not owned directly by the government, our state and federal governments are more than willing to foot the bill, often through the tax system. The state of New York, for example, offers hundreds of millions in tax incentives to the film industry every year. We are talking about billions of dollars when we look at the incentives across every state each year. There is a straightforward transfer of wealth happening directly from the taxpayer to the film industry, and it's not clear that we benefit much from it. Our government gives these industries our money for such entertainment, and these firms then turn around and charge us for it — all based on the economically dubious concept that that money will trickle down to us.

We could spend the rest of this article detailing how the US government subsidizes our entertainment, or at the very least, the rich who own it. However, I want to emphasize that these "decadences", while subsidized so us plebes can theoretically access them, are much more in the domain of the affluent than the "poor." It's the wealthy who spend their fortunes on entertainment and travel more than any demographic.

They also spend their money on things you or I can hardly ever do, such as lavish parties, mansions, yachts, private planes, and luxury goods. Last year alone, billionaire Michael Rubin threw a massive 4th of July white party at his $50 million beachfront mansion. Attendees ranged from Jay-Z to Tom Brady, with impromptu performances from Usher and Ne-Yo. Pizzas were transported from the elite Brooklyn restaurant Lucali, and guests sipped on the ever-expensive Ace of Spade Champagne and Dusse Cognac. It was one of many such private parties that year.

Such elaborate celebrations also happened in Rome — they probably happen wherever inequality intensifies. While the Empire put on large games and festivals, poor people could hardly compete with the elaborate banquets of the rich, where the wealthy allegedly ate to such excess that they vomited. As written by Nina Martyris in NPR:

“The Roman banquet evokes voluptuary images of men in togas reclining on couches and glutting themselves on wild sow’s udders and stuffed snails, while servants stream in bearing platters heaped with heavily sauced and delicately spiced foods from all over the world: ostrich from Africa, pepper and sugar cane from India, cumin from Ethiopia, sumac from Syria, olives from Greece, and that perennial Roman favorite, the fleshy homegrown fig. Wine is drunk in copious amounts from double-handled silver cups, while a lyre plays in the background. There are performing troupes, poets, even the occasional leopard, and sometimes rose petals flutter down from on high. One sadistic host, the Emperor Elagabalus, built a banquet hall with a false ceiling that tilted open, allowing a torrent of flowers to rain down upon his unsuspecting guests, smothering to death those unable to crawl out from under the floral deluge.

Or so the story goes. As with many wild stories retelling Roman debauchery, this one, too, comes to us heavily sauced — or heavily perfumed in this case. What is beyond dispute, though, is that gastronomy was fetishized and raised to the level of a fine art by the Romans, and its apogee was the banquet.”

When people talk about Rome, there is this myth of universal decadence. Conservatives paint this picture that everyone was f@cking and partying all the time, and that's why the Empire declined. As the patriarchal meme goes: "Hard times create strong men, strong men create good times, good times create weak men, and weak men create hard times."

This feeling is perhaps best summarized by Edward Gibbon in his wildly inaccurate epic Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, where he universalizes Romes's collapse into one about human nature, where the empire's alleged prosperity leads to a devastating decadence. As Gibbon writes:

“The long peace, and the uniform government of the Romans, introduced a slow and secret poison into the vitals of the empire. The minds of men were gradually reduced to the same level, the fire of genius was extinguished, and even the military spirit evaporated. The natives of Europe were brave and robust…their personal valour remained, but they no longer possessed the public courage which is nourished by the love of independence, the sense of national honour, the presence of danger and the habit of command.”

Yet this poorly defined "poison," what many conservatives would call "decadence," was not universal to all in Rome, and I can hardly see what it has to do with something as complex as the unraveling of an empire. Rome collapsed because it was an imperialist power that relied on client states and colonies to supply much of what it needed for its operations, including its grain supply. It had an overextended bureaucracy, and as it lost the ability to control such territories for reasons that are still widely debated, it fractured. The intricacies of this decline are certainly up for debate, but even if "decadence" were one of the many reasons — and there has been no serious evidence that this is the case (see The Modern Cultural Myth of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire) — it would be a decadence enjoyed by a narrow minority, and caused by vast inequality.

And, like then, America now has people lamenting about decadence and moral weakness, and it is also a lie meant to cover up a more sobering truth.

A declining conclusion

Modern-day conservatives often want to point to Rome and use it as an example of how poor people engaging in entertainment, as well as society's increasing acceptance of social minorities, are the causes for the supposed decline of American Empire. And yet, everything I have seen points me in the opposite direction. Bread and Circus is not a moral failing caused by poor people playing too many video games or watching too much TV, nor is it a sign of inevitable collapse, but rather merely a policy of control meant to pacify a culture of vast inequality.

Rome was not a place where everyone had equal access to its affluence. Those considered "non-Roman" received constant discrimination and even bigotry. If you read Juvenal further, you will come across some of the most bigoted comments toward Greek people and other ethnicities of his day (SatIII:58–125):

“That race most acceptable now to our wealthy Romans, That race I principally wish to flee, I’ll swiftly reveal, And without embarrassment. My friends, I can’t stand A Rome full of Greeks, yet few of the dregs are Greek! For the Syrian Orontes has long since polluted the Tiber, Bringing its language and customs, pipes and harp-strings, And even their native timbrels are dragged along too, And the girls forced to offer themselves in the Circus.”

Rome was a highly stratified society brimming with prejudices, and I know that dynamic exists in America, too. We are a culture of great material wealth, but that's hardly shared with everyone. Many people struggle to capture the tenuous benefits offered by the US system if any are received at all. We must navigate a Byzantine bureaucracy while the wealthy experience things almost beyond imagining for the rest of us. In place of systems of care, we have been given the means to dole the pain: our entertainment. We spend money on TV, phones, and video games because there is hardly anything else to cling to. Care is not guaranteed in this system; only pixels on a screen.

If we can survive the Anthropocene, future descendants will undoubtedly have a morbid fascination with our current fixation with television and other forms of entertainment. Our escapism is evident in the present, and as long as the historical record survives, it will probably be apparent to the future as well. It remains to be seen, however, how this fascination will be interpreted — will the future chastise the masses like Juvenal for allegedly being complicit in their own suffering, will they place their ire on the rich, as I have done, for architecting that pacification, or will some new unforeseen dichotomy arise (as they tend to do)?

I don’t know, but in the meantime, I'll see you around, staring down at your screen.