The death of humans (and sometimes even of animals) usually constitutes a
spectacle, a disturbing sight which is awful in both senses of the word, an eerie yet
intriguing phenomenon demanding acknowledgement and attention. When
confronted, as it must be, death makes us come to terms, individually and
collectively, with our powers and our limitations – with our humanity and our
mortality. Witnessing natural deaths of the aged and infirm is distressing, but far
more disturbing are premature, forced, and unnatural deaths. Yet throughout human
history some beings have been killed so that others might live, prosper, or feel safe
or superior. Violence and destruction are (or have been) necessary for survival
and security; empires always have exploited and intimidated. All societies witness
natural death and all societies kill, whether directly in war, state executions, blood
sacrifice, hunting, or the butchering of animals for meat, or indirectly via oppressive
poverty, insidious pollution, or various ‘combat’ or ‘blood sports’ wherein the
abuse and death of humans and animals are either intentional or probable. Rome,
however, remains extraordinary for the scale and the method of its violence, and
for applauding skill, artistry, and diligence in the punishment and destruction of
creatures.