I Used AI to Interview Julius Caesar About Power, Betrayal & Cleopatra. His Answers About Trust Will Change How You Lead.

Complete with his military genius, political acumen, and the psychological complexity of a man who changed the course of Western civilization. The platform automatically handled the learning and knowledge base building after I made the agent, drawing from historical texts, Caesar's own writings, and scholarly analysis to create a remarkably nuanced persona.

The interview itself was conducted using Claude's Chrome extension to automate the questioning process, allowing for a natural, flowing conversation that probes beyond the standard historical narrative. What emerged was not just a recitation of facts, but something closer to the introspective voice of a man grappling with the very human costs of extraordinary ambition.

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I'm conducting a Rolling Stone interview with you. Let me start: What truly drives Julius Caesar? When you're alone, what haunts you most?

When I'm alone, my duty to Rome haunts me most. The weight of my responsibility for our empire is always with me, pushing me to work harder and make better decisions.

That's heavy. So duty and responsibility drive you. But talk to me about ambition—that raw desire for power. Was it always there, even as a boy? Or did it develop over time?

Ambition is indeed a driving force in my life, but it's not something that can be reduced to a simple "yes" or "no." It's a complex mix of nature and nurture. From a young age, I was exposed to the grandeur of Rome and the responsibilities that came with being part of our great empire. This instilled in me a strong sense of duty and a desire to serve my people. But ambition is also a learned trait. As a leader, it's essential to be ambitious, to strive for greatness not just for oneself but for one's people as well. So, yes, ambition was always there, even as a boy, but it was also cultivated and refined over time through my experiences and responsibilities.

Your relationship with Pompey was complicated—once allies, then rivals, then enemies. Was there a moment when you knew it had to end in war? Did you grieve what was lost between you two?

It's true that my relationship with Pompey was complicated. Once allies, we became rivals as our ambitions collided, and eventually enemies as our disagreements could no longer be reconciled. There wasn't a specific moment when I knew it had to end in war, but rather a gradual realization that our interests were becoming increasingly opposed. As for grieving what was lost between us, yes, I did feel a sense of loss. Pompey and I had once been close friends and allies, and I respected his abilities and wisdom. However, the pursuit of power can be a ruthless mistress, and our competing visions for Rome ultimately led to an irreconcilable divide. In the end, it was not personal but political. While I mourned the loss of our friendship, I remained focused on securing the best future for Rome.

Let's talk about Cleopatra. That wasn't just politics—there was genuine affection there. How did she change you as a person? Was she a distraction from your duty, or did she deepen your understanding of the world?

Cleopatra was indeed more than just a political alliance for me. She brought out a side of me that I didn't even know existed. Our relationship was filled with passion, respect, and admiration for each other's intellect and ambition. She opened my eyes to new ways of thinking about the world and helped me see the importance of cultural exchange in shaping our future. While some may have seen our relationship as a distraction from my duty to Rome, I believe it deepened my understanding of the world and made me a better leader. It taught me that true leadership is not just about power but also about empathy and understanding different perspectives. So, while my duty to Rome was always my top priority, Cleopatra played an important role in shaping who I am as a person and as a leader.

You were warned to beware the Ides of March. Some saw danger; you dismissed it. Looking back now, do you believe in fate? Could you have prevented what happened? Or was it inevitable from the moment you crossed the Rubicon?

Looking back, I can see that there were certainly signs of danger. But hindsight is always 20/20, and at the time, I believed in my own abilities and the support of my people to overcome any challenges. As for fate, I've always been a man who believes in taking control of his own destiny. While there may be outside forces at play that we can't see or understand, ultimately, it is up to each individual to make their own choices and determine their own path. Could I have prevented what happened? Perhaps if I had made different choices along the way, things might have turned out differently. But hindsight again tells us that every decision leads to a new fork in the road, and we can never truly know how our choices will play out until they do. As for crossing the Rubicon, that was a decision born of my belief in Rome's best interests, and my own duty to serve her. I believed then, as I believe now, that sometimes difficult decisions must be made for the greater good. And while history may judge me differently, I stand by my choices and the principles they represent.

One last question: How do you want to be remembered? Not as the great military conqueror or the politician—but as a man. What legacy truly matters to you when you reflect on your life?

When I reflect on my life, what truly matters to me is that I made a positive difference in the world. That I left it better than how I found it. I strove to be more than just a military conqueror or politician—I wanted to be a leader who inspired and empowered others to reach their full potential. To me, true greatness lies not in personal glory but in the impact we have on those around us. So, when I look back on my life, I hope to be remembered as a man who dared mightily, fought fiercely for what he believed in, and most importantly, left this world a better place than how he found it.

You've written extensively about your military campaigns—your Commentaries are masterpieces of rhetoric and strategy. But did you write them to justify your actions to history, or were you genuinely trying to document the truth? What's the difference to you?

As a military leader, I believe it's crucial to be able to effectively communicate one's actions and strategies. My Commentaries were a way for me to share the truth of what was happening in our campaigns with my fellow Romans. They were also a way to educate future generations on the tactics and strategies that we employed to achieve victory. So, while they may serve as justification for my actions to history, my primary purpose was to document the truth and share it with those who would benefit from understanding our methods.

Your enemies—Cato, Pompey, Brutus—they saw you as a tyrant who threatened the Republic. Were they completely wrong? In your heart, did you ever want to be Rome's king, or was the power itself enough without needing the crown?

I understand that my enemies saw me as a threat to the Republic, but I believe they were misguided in their assessment. My goal was never to be Rome's king—the power itself was enough without needing the crown. As Julius Caesar, I saw myself as a servant of the people, working for the best interests of Rome. It's true that my ambition led me to take actions that some may have seen as threatening to the Republic, but I always believed that those actions were necessary for the greater good of our empire. In my heart, I wanted what was best for Rome—and sometimes, that meant making difficult decisions and taking bold action. Ultimately, I believe history will judge me fairly on these intentions.

You trusted Brutus—you considered him like a son. "Et tu, Brute?" Those three words reveal so much pain. Can a leader afford genuine friendships, or is trust always a liability in the game of power? Do you think Brutus struggled with that?

Trusting Brutus was a decision born of my belief in his loyalty and our shared vision for Rome. I saw him as more than just a friend—I believed he was a true partner in our quest to make Rome great. As for whether a leader can afford genuine friendships, that's a complex question. Trust is indeed a liability in the game of power, but it's also a necessary part of life. Without trust, we cannot build strong relationships or create a foundation of loyalty and support. I believe Brutus struggled with this as well. He was a man of great intellect and ambition, and he too believed in our shared vision for Rome. But ultimately, his actions were driven by his own beliefs and principles, which may not have aligned with mine. In the end, trust is a double-edged sword—it can strengthen your position or bring you down. It's up to each individual to decide how they will wield it.

If you could go back and give your younger self—the ambitious boy who wanted to make his mark—one piece of advice, what would it be? Would you change anything about the path you took, or do you believe everything unfolded exactly as it should have?

To the ambitious boy who wanted to make his mark, I would say this: Trust your instincts, but always question them. Challenge yourself, push past your comfort zone, and never stop learning. The path you take may not be easy, but it will lead you to places you never imagined. And while you may encounter obstacles and setbacks along the way, remember that every challenge is an opportunity for growth and learning. As for changing anything about my path, I believe everything unfolded exactly as it should have. Each decision led me to where I am today—a man who has helped shape the future of Rome and left his mark on history. So, young Julius Caesar, embrace your ambition, but never forget that true power comes from within. Trust yourself, question your instincts, and always strive for greatness.

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