When observing the geopolitical chessboard today, one cannot help but see shadows of empires past: their rise, their golden ages, and their inevitable decline.
Rome, Ottoman, British—each commanded vast territories, shaped global affairs, and eventually faded into history.
Yet some civilizations, even in decline, have left behind legacies that continue to influence us centuries later.
Are we standing at another such pivotal moment in history? And if so, what wisdom can we draw from these imperial echoes?
The Rise and Fall of Empires: What Remains
History, as Mark Twain supposedly remarked, doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.
Looking at today’s superpowers and their behaviors, we can discern familiar patterns that preceded the fall of previous empires: concentration of power, expansionist tendencies, internal corruption, and the growing disconnect between rulers and the ruled.
The Roman Empire expanded across three continents, building roads, aqueducts, and legal systems that became the foundation of Western civilization.
Yet internal decay gradually undermined its strength, until the “eternal city” eventually fell.
The British Empire, upon which “the sun never set,” controlled a quarter of the world’s land surface at its peak, only to recede in the aftermath of two world wars that drained its resources and resolve.
Yet not all imperial declines end in catastrophe.
Consider the Republic of Venice—”La Serenissima,” the Most Serene Republic—which maintained its independence for over a millennium.
As a maritime power, Venice controlled trade routes throughout the Mediterranean and beyond, accumulating incredible wealth and cultural significance.
When its political influence eventually waned, Venice left behind lasting contributions to art, architecture, navigation, commercial law, and diplomatic practice.
Today, Venice’s canals, gondolas, and colorful palazzos tell the story of a civilization that transcended its political boundaries.
I can’t emphasise enough… as you know.
Similarly, while the Greek empire fractured and fell to Rome, Greek philosophy, democracy, and artistic achievements became the bedrock of Western thought.
The Persian Empire, despite its eventual conquest by Alexander the Great, pioneered systems of administration, models of multicultural coexistence, and artistic influences that lasted far beyond its political extinction.
In literature, we find poignant reflections on imperial decline. Percy Bysshe Shelley’s sonnet “Ozymandias” captures this theme perfectly:
“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
Yet even as the statue of the mighty Pharaoh lies shattered in the desert, the poem itself ensures that something of that ancient civilization endures—transformed into art that speaks to us about power, hubris, and the passage of time.
When Leaders Overshadow Populations
In our modern media landscape, the actions and words of world leaders dominate headlines and analysis, while the voices, hopes, and sufferings of ordinary citizens fade into background noise.
The personalities and provocations of superpower leaders fill our screens, but we rarely hear directly from those whose lives are most affected by their decisions.
This focus on the powerful few creates a distorted picture of complex societies.
Russia becomes synonymous with Putin, China with Xi, America with the president and his tech mogul allies currently occupies the White House.
This simplification obscures the diverse viewpoints, internal disagreements, and grassroots movements that exist within every nation.
George Orwell, in his novel “1984,” warned us about this very phenomenon—the dangerous simplification of complex societies into monolithic entities directed by all-powerful leaders.
When Winston Smith is forced to believe that “Oceania had always been at war with Eastasia,” we recognize the perilous distance between propaganda and reality, between the narrative of the powerful and the lived experience of the populace.
As social divisions deepen within and between nations, the tendency to view the world through the lens of “us versus them” grows stronger.
This binary worldview prevents us from understanding the intricate web of relationships, interests, and values that truly shape our global community.
In truth, every society contains multitudes of perspectives, and the relationships between ruling classes and citizens involve complex negotiations of power, consent, and resistance.
Seeking New Paths to Change
Throughout history, social transformation has often come through bloodshed—revolutions, civil wars, and violent uprisings.
The French Revolution, the Bolshevik Revolution, numerous independence movements—all paid heavy prices in human lives for the changes they sought.
But in the 21st century, with nuclear weapons in the arsenals of multiple nations and global systems of unprecedented interdependence, pursuing change through violence carries catastrophic risks.
Moreover, history has repeatedly shown that violent revolutions frequently fail to deliver their promised utopias, instead replacing one form of oppression with another.
So how do we navigate change in our complex world?
Finding an answer to this question may well be the defining challenge of our generation.
If we fail to discover new methodologies for social transformation, what purpose does our presence in this pivotal era serve?
If I remembered it correctly, Albert Camus, in his essay “The Rebel,” wrestled with this very question.
He concluded that rebellion—saying “no” to oppression and “yes” to human dignity—was essential, but that rebellion must not become revolution that sacrifices present lives for future promises.
“Real generosity toward the future,” Camus wrote, “lies in giving all to the present.”
The Outlive Strategy: A Politics of Endurance
This is where I propose what I call the “Outlive Strategy”—a concept both simple and revolutionary: to outlive the current power structures by maintaining our health, our principles, and our communities.
Put simply, perhaps the most effective way to challenge today’s power structures is to outlive them—to remain healthier, more vibrant, and longer-lived than those who currently hold the reins of power.
We should spare no effort in pursuing healthy lifestyles that maximize our longevity and wellness, not merely for personal benefit, but as a political strategy.
This approach might initially appear passive, even defeatist.
But taking a longer view, it represents an active and revolutionary stance for several reasons:
- Time is the great equalizer: Both the powerful and the powerless have only 24 hours in a day, and all humans eventually face mortality. By maximizing our healthy lifespan, we optimize our most precious resource—time itself.
- Intergenerational transmission of knowledge and values: By maintaining sound minds and bodies, we increase our opportunities to transmit wisdom and values to future generations. The Roman statesman Cicero noted that “to plant trees under whose shade you do not expect to sit is to have achieved a type of immortality.” Our ideas can outlive us.
- Sustainable resistance: Rather than momentary explosions of outrage that quickly burn out, healthy longevity enables persistent, sustainable resistance. Mahatma Gandhi’s strategy of non-violent resistance required tremendous patience and stamina—a long-term commitment that eventually helped topple an empire.
- Collective memory and power: As individuals live longer, healthier lives, society strengthens its “collective memory,” reducing the risk of repeating past mistakes. The elders of indigenous communities have traditionally served as living libraries, maintaining vital knowledge across generations.
In his novel “The Plague,” Camus presents another relevant insight through his character Dr. Rieux, who fights a deadly epidemic not through grand heroics but through daily, persistent work—treating patients, maintaining records, doing what needs to be done.
When asked about heroism, Rieux responds: “This whole thing is not about heroism. It’s about decency. It may seem a ridiculous idea, but the only way to fight the plague is with decency.”
Similarly, the Outlive Strategy is about the decency of persistent presence—of refusing to disappear, of maintaining our health and our humanity in the face of systems that might prefer our silent compliance or premature demise.
Lessons from the Renaissance: Historical Precedent
This strategy of long-term social transformation through outliving destructive power structures finds historical precedent in the Renaissance.
The Black Death of the 14th century decimated Europe’s population, claiming perhaps a third of its inhabitants.
Yet from this catastrophe emerged unexpected social transformation.
With reduced population, survivors found food more plentiful and their labor more valued.
Feudal structures weakened, and a new emphasis on individual worth emerged. Arts, sciences, and philosophy flourished in this changed landscape.
Historian Barbara Tuchman, in “A Distant Mirror,” observed that the plague created “a consciousness of death, a gathering of wits, a vitalizing of energies, and a will to survive.”
The Renaissance arose not from sudden social revolution but from gradual adaptation—people continuing to live their daily lives while nurturing new ideas and technologies.
The Renaissance offers us an important lesson: transformation need not come through violent upheaval.
It can emerge through the patient cultivation of new ways of thinking and living, carried forward by those who survive difficult times.
Modern Practice: Combining Health and Intellect
In modern society, implementing the Outlive Strategy requires several key components:
- Physical health maintenance: Through proper nutrition, regular exercise, adequate sleep, and stress management, we build the foundation for longevity.
- Mental health prioritization: Through meditation, artistic expression, connection with nature, and meaningful relationships, we foster psychological resilience.
- Intellectual curiosity: Through lifelong learning, we keep our minds active and adaptable to new ideas and technologies. As Alvin Toffler, American writer and Futuris, famously noted, “The illiterate of the 21st century will not be those who cannot read and write, but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and relearn.”
- Community building: By nurturing connections with like-minded individuals, we create networks of mutual support. The communities that prospered after the Black Death were those that maintained social cohesion and collective care.
- Environmental stewardship: By adopting sustainable lifestyles, we preserve the earth for future generations. As Native American wisdom suggests, we should make decisions considering their impact seven generations into the future.
These practices transcend individual health benefits to create broader social impact.
As more citizens live longer, healthier lives, societal priorities gradually shift.
Ursula K. Le Guin captured this spirit in her novel “The Dispossessed,” writing:
“You cannot buy the revolution. You cannot make the revolution. You can only be the revolution. It is in your spirit, or it is nowhere.”
The Art of Outliving
The Outlive Strategy finds resonance in literature across cultures.
In Fyodor Dostoevsky’s “The Brothers Karamazov,” the character Father Zosima advises: “Love all creation, the whole of it and every grain of sand. Love every leaf, every ray of God’s light! Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things.”
This holistic love of life itself becomes a form of resistance against systems that reduce human beings to mere instruments or statistics.
By embracing the fullness of existence—through health, through community, through persistent engagement with the world—we assert our humanity against dehumanizing forces.
Similarly, in “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” Gabriel García Márquez portrays the Buendía family persisting through generations of political upheaval, war, and even supernatural events.
The family’s continuity itself becomes a form of resistance against the forces that would erase them from history.
The Japanese concept of “ikigai“—finding the intersection of what you love, what you’re good at, what the world needs, and what you can be rewarded for—provides another framework for sustainable living.
By aligning our daily activities with our deeper purpose, we create lives worth extending, worth fighting for.
Conclusion: Sustained Hope
The lessons of history are clear—empires inevitably decline, but the cultures and ideas born within them can endure.
Similarly, today’s power structures are not eternal. What matters is what we preserve and create during these transitions.
The Outlive Strategy offers a path to transformation through persistence rather than violence.
It’s not merely about individual longevity but about collectively delivering a better society to future generations.
As each of us lives healthily, thinks critically, and acts compassionately, we create gradual but certain change.
This may be the light of hope we can find in our complex times.
A Venetian proverb tells us:
“The sea is eternal, and we are but one of its waves. Yet waves shape the shore.”
Each of our small actions helps determine the shape of tomorrow’s society.
The poet Rainer Maria Rilke offers us a fitting conclusion: “The future enters into us, in order to transform itself in us, long before it happens.”
By living well, by outliving the destructive forces of our time, we become the vessels through which a better future can emerge—not through sudden revolution, but through the quiet persistence of those who choose to remain, to witness, and to outlive. ■
