Latest / Nero: Mad Tyrant or Misunderstood Emperor? — Fexingo History / Nero's Olympic Games: The Emperor Who Cheated at Olympia
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've covered Nero's artistic ambitions, his building projects, his political messes. But there's one part of his reign that always makes me laugh, because it's so gloriously absurd: he competed in the Olympics. And not just as a spectator — as an actual contestant. Luna: Wait, the emperor of Rome ran in the Olympics? Lucas: He did, and he won. But he cheated so blatantly that even the usually sycophantic Greek judges had to bend the rules to give him the crown. This is the story of Nero's Olympic victory, and it's a perfect lens into how absolute power can twist something as sacred as the ancient games. Lucas: To set the scene: it's 66 AD, and Nero is on this grand tour of Greece, essentially a victory lap after his disastrous handling of the Great Fire and the Pisonian conspiracy back home. He arrives in Greece and declares the province 'free' — which meant no taxes, which made him wildly popular. But he also wanted to participate in the games, because he saw himself as a true Hellenistic athlete and artist. He'd already competed in the chariot race at the Isthmian Games near Corinth, and he won there despite falling off his chariot — I mean, he finished the race, but everyone saw him fall. Luna: He fell off and still won? That's a bit much. Lucas: The judges at Isthmia basically gave him the victory because, well, he was the emperor. But the Olympics were the big one. The games at Olympia were the most prestigious in the Greek world, held every four years since 776 BC. Nero wanted that crown more than anything. So he made sure he got it. Lucas: Now, the Olympics in antiquity had strict rules. One of them was that the contest was open only to free Greek men, and there was a ban on Roman officials competing — or rather, it was frowned upon. But Nero didn't care about tradition. He had the games postponed for two years so they'd fall during his visit — that was unheard of, absolutely scandalous. The organizers essentially rewrote the calendar to accommodate him. Luna: He moved the Olympics? That's like moving the World Cup to a different year because a president wanted to play. Lucas: Exactly. And he didn't stop there. Nero entered an event that was not even a standard Olympic event — the ten-horse chariot race. Normally, chariot races had four horses, maybe two. Ten horses was a novelty, probably because Nero thought more horses equaled more glory. But he was also a terrible charioteer. He had trained, sure, but he was not good. In the race itself, he was thrown from his chariot — he actually fell off and had to be helped back in. But he still managed to complete the course, or at least he was credited with finishing, because the judges apparently declared him the winner regardless. Luna: So they just gave it to him? Was there any pretense of a fair race? Lucas: There was a pretense, but it was incredibly thin. According to Cassius Dio, the judges — the Hellanodikai — were essentially bribed with a huge sum of money from Nero's treasury. And they were also terrified of what might happen if they didn't crown him. Some sources say that the judges were so worried about appearing biased that they consulted each other, but in the end they just declared him the Olympic victor. Suetonius, the gossipy biographer, says that Nero was so insecure about his performance that he gave the judges a gift of a million sesterces — that's an enormous amount of money, enough to fund a legion for a year. So it was a bribe, pure and simple, wrapped in the guise of imperial generosity. Luna: A million sesterces. That's like buying the gold medal. Lucas: And it wasn't just the race. Nero also competed in the musical competitions — he was a citharoedus, a lyre player, remember. He actually entered the herald's contest, which was basically a shouting contest, and he won that too. But the Olympic crown for chariot racing was the big one. He returned to Rome with 1,808 victory crowns — that's the number cited by Suetonius — and he had a triumph, sort of a mock Olympic procession through the streets. He even had the Greek cities erect statues of him as an Olympic victor. Lucas: But here's where the story gets even twistier. After Nero's death in 68 AD, the Senate, with the new emperor Galba, issued a decree — the damnatio memoriae, essentially — that erased Nero's name from public records and, importantly, declared all his Olympic victories null and void. They even went so far as to remove the Neronian Games from the Olympic program. Those games were added just for him, and they were canceled after his death. So the official record is that Nero's Olympic wins were stripped, and his name was scratched from the list of victors. Luna: So the memory of his cheating was erased too. Lucas: Yes, but not completely. The historian Philostratus, writing a century later, mentions that even though the officials tried to erase Nero, the story of his outrageous behavior survived. And that's the thing — you can erase a name from a stone, but you can't erase the memory of a man who moved the Olympics to his schedule and fell off a chariot and still got the crown. Lucas: And there's a deeper irony: the Olympic games were meant to honor Zeus, to showcase the best athletes, to celebrate the ideals of fair competition. Nero turned them into a farce. But it also shows how the empire could bend Greek culture to serve imperial ego. The Greeks, who prided themselves on their heritage, basically had to swallow their pride and crown a Roman emperor who couldn't drive a chariot. Luna: Did anyone actually protest? I mean, among the Greeks, was there any pushback? Lucas: There's one famous story — probably apocryphal but telling — about a philosopher named Demonax who was at Olympia when Nero was competing. When Nero asked him, 'What do you think of my singing?' Demonax replied, 'You sing like a king.' That's a clever jab, but it's also the only kind of resistance you could get away with. The Hellanodikai were paid off, the crowd was probably paid to applaud, and anyone who openly mocked the emperor would face consequences. So no, there was no organized protest. It was just a corrupt spectacle. Luna: A sycophantic crowd and bought judges. Sounds like some modern sports events. Lucas: Indeed. And that's one of the reasons this episode is so fun to talk about — it's a reminder that the ancient world wasn't above the same kinds of greed and corruption we see today. But it's also a window into Nero's psychology. He genuinely believed he was a great athlete and artist. He had a tragic need for recognition, and he couldn't stand the thought of not being the best. So he rigged the game, and then he had the audacity to celebrate it as a victory. Lucas: Now, one thing I want to mention — and I think this is a good point to bring up — is how much of this story survives because of sources like Cassius Dio and Suetonius, who were both hostile to Nero. That's a caution we need to keep in mind. Some modern historians argue that Nero wasn't as incompetent as they paint him, but the cheating at Olympia is pretty well attested, even if the details vary. I mean, the postponement of the games is a historical fact, recorded in the Olympic victor lists. Luna: So even the pro-Nero historians admit he cheated? Lucas: Exactly. There's no real defense of Nero's Olympic conduct, even among those who try to rehabilitate his reputation. So we can be confident that the basic facts are true: he entered the games, he fell off his chariot, he was crowned victor after bribing the judges, and his victories were later annulled. Lucas: And that's a perfect place to take a quick pause, because I want to say something to you, Luna, and to anyone listening. If you found today's conversation genuinely useful — like, maybe you learned something you didn't know about Nero or the Olympics — the way we keep this show ad-free is through listener support. It's a small thing, but it matters. If you'd like to help, you can buy me a coffee at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. That's it. No pressure, just a way to keep these conversations going. Luna: And it's worth it, because we get to geek out about ancient history without any commercial breaks. Lucas: Exactly. And speaking of breaks, let's get back to the story. After his Olympic 'triumph', Nero moved on to the Isthmian Games at Corinth, where he made his famous declaration of Greek freedom. It was a huge propaganda moment — he stood in the stadium and announced that the Greeks were free, which meant they didn't have to pay taxes to Rome. It was a massive political move, but it was also part of his athletic and artistic tour. He was weaving together his love for Greece with his need for adulation. Luna: So he was basically combining his vanity with real political concessions. Lucas: Yes, and it worked. The Greeks were so grateful that they honored him with the title 'Zeus Eleutherios' — Zeus the Liberator. They even built him a statue in the Temple of Zeus at Olympia, which is a huge deal. That statue stood alongside the famous statue of Zeus by Phidias. So for a few years, Nero was literally elevated to the status of a god in the holiest site in Greece. Lucas: But as we know, all that came crashing down within two years. The Vindex revolt, the fall of Nero, and then the Senate's damnatio memoriae. The statue was probably destroyed, his name was chiseled off, and the Neronian Games were dropped from the Olympiad. So his Olympic legacy was erased as thoroughly as his political one. Luna: It's almost poetic — the man who tried to make himself immortal by cheating at the Olympics was eventually erased by the same political system that had allowed him to do it. Lucas: That's a beautiful way to put it. And it's a reminder that power, no matter how absolute, is always temporary. Nero learned that the hard way. But the story of his Olympic cheat — that's stayed with us for two thousand years. It's become part of his legend, and it's one of the most vivid illustrations of imperial excess in Roman history. Lucas: So next time you watch a modern sports scandal — an athlete caught doping, a judge taking a bribe — remember that it's nothing new. Nero set the bar for shamelessness, and he was an emperor, not just a competitor. The Olympics may have been a sacred Greek tradition, but in the hands of a Roman emperor, they became a stage for one man's ego. Luna: I'll never look at a gold medal the same way again. Lucas: Ha! Well, that's our story for today. If you want to dive deeper into Nero's life, we have episodes on his artistic side, his building projects, his last days. And if you're curious about the Olympics, we could do a whole series on the ancient games. But for now, thanks for joining us, and remember: history is stranger than fiction, especially when emperors get involved.