Aaron Sorkin, A Dead Language, And the Value of Moral Tales
An essay written in the Spring of 2022 and published by the Syllabus in 2023.
Every year, drenched in stifling summer heat, twelve hundred young Latin scholars gather for the National Junior Classical League Convention. The festival pulls students from across the country in an attempt to foster what’s left of the Greco-Roman community. Often donning togas and framed by laurel crowns, the youthful faces participate in various Latin and Greek-themed events, including Latin oratory contests, Latin sight readings, costume contests, mythology readings, and ancient geography contests.1
Unfortunately, I have never been able to attend the convention. But as someone with a bit of perspective into the modern-day Latin world, I can assure you that the attendees likely don’t lack enthusiasm for the event. Ironically, in 2023, Latin (dubbed a “dead language”) retains a respectable following that many fail to appreciate in both everyday and academic circumstances. In my experience, studying Latin is often frowned upon.
“What language do you take?”
“Latin.”
The “Latin response” is often met with jest or the common nose laugh — a laugh that occupies a strange space between sincere, confused, and condescending. In freshman year, I understood the skepticism. I was more or less going through the motions in a class that I found little to no practical value in. But since my sophomore year, I have changed my evaluation of the language. While I can make the argument that Latin is valuable in everyday speech — I won’t. Instead, I will make the easier and less conventional argument. Latin is the study of ancient perspectives — these perspectives can inform our writing, morality, and understanding of contemporary life; this is where the value lies.2
Contemporary Latin study is largely based on some of history’s greatest stories. Those works are often moral tales, such as fables, allegories, epics, and parables. This is where much of Latin’s value lies; in studying stories that, while made thousands of years ago, contain unique and often relevant moral perspectives on life that scholars and students might otherwise be missing out on. Moreover, Greco-Roman classics are often set in unbelievably tumultuous times, which, as a modern-day reader, can provide comfort and perspective on our own scary times, gently reminding us that we are not the last nor the first people to live through such troubles.
While occasionally gospel in early times, Classical moral storytelling has faded outside of academic circles. The bottom line is: people don’t want to be preached to. The lessons they want to hear have already been written, and in an interconnected society, it is hard to see any author as morally superior to others. With more people reading and writing today, there is less of a desire to be preached to and rather a yearning for relatability. I think that comedian and Inside3 director Bo Burnham describes the perspective of a contemporary artist toward the audience best:
“They’re just as smart as you; they’re just as deep as you; you’re not here to teach them anything… I don’t know what’s going on; this is how I feel. Do you relate to it?” 4
Yet, while not “in style” anymore, classic moral storytelling is still found in a variety of contemporary works — theme-driven works that still have the ability to teach and influence. Someone who does it well, really well even, is screenwriter Aaron Sorkin. At a glance, Sorkin’s catalog is impressive: The West Wing (1999), The Social Network (2010), Moneyball (2011), and Steve Jobs (2011). Each takes real events or things and fictionalizes them to communicate a moral lesson. For instance, the television show The West Wing premiered at a time when American citizens viewed government officials as self-serving and greedy — a time when the president was lying under oath for participating in questionable sexual relations with a 24-year-old intern.5 The West Wing attempted to humanize politicians and show that high office was more about self-sacrifice than personal greed. By the time the smash hit ended in 2006, the zeitgeist still widely viewed politicians as greedy narcissists; however, The West Wing still had a noted effect on people’s perception of the government. As stated by professors at The University of Missouri: ‘Although a fictional account, [the] show provides something to the American public that it cannot get from any other source, a vision of what it is like to be president on a daily basis.”6 After a large survey, the university concluded that the positive image of the American presidency found on the show directly resulted in a more positive image of then-sitting President Bush and former President Clinton. Whether that effect was a good or bad thing is up to you —but at the least — the show taught the American public some form of grace, in the process, illustrating the power of storytelling in shaping public perception and influencing moral perspectives.
Another all-timer from Sorkin is the play A Few Good Men,7 a tale focusing on the dodgy practice of hazing within the Marines. One of the central lessons in the play is that, whether a Marine or not, one must act according to their own conscience and not the orders they are given. So, while the story is seemingly about the Marines, the message is intended for everyone. In many ways, the Marines are modern stand-ins for animals and fraught heroes in Classical fables — acting as vessels for a greater moral message.8
Furthermore, A Few Good Men has only become more relevant over time. Around 2003, a situation not dissimilar from the one depicted in the play occurred at a U.S. prison camp in Abu Ghraib, Iraq, where prison officers were given authorization to use new torture methods on detainees. The torture (“enhanced integration,” as they called it) was an extreme version of the hazing in A Few Good Men, which led to the death and suffering of tens of prisoners.9 I can’t help but wonder what the officers would have done differently if they had seen A Few Good Men or just had a better sense of how fragile their independence really was. Maybe it would have made a difference — maybe not. I wished they had seen it. I think it would have made a difference; at the very least, having seen the film, I hope that if I were put in their shoes, I would act differently.
***
A common criticism of Classical moral storytelling, and of Sorkin, for that matter, is that the very human author (who probably breaks their own ethical advice daily) has no right to lecture a reader about what is right and wrong and the proper way to live. In many ways, this is entirely valid; Sorkin himself was kicked off The West Wing for his manic writing tendencies and persistent cocaine usage. But what sets Sorkin, Virgil, and Ovid apart is not their personal morality but rather their ability to articulate moral perspectives and translate them onto the page.10 It’s not a coincidence that most of Sorkin’s work heavily emphasizes its moral thesis. It’s not an accident that most of those same stories are based on real events — and it’s no mistake that his stories disseminate the same moral storytelling that Latin scholars mastered thousands of years ago. Perhaps, while they may seem strange to outsiders, Sorkin understands the hundreds of language enthusiasts that gather yearly, wearing white togas and big smiles, geeking out over a dated language, and telling fables in an oversized convention center. As Sorkin states:
“There's a great tradition in storytelling that's thousands of years old, telling stories about kings and their palaces, and that's really what I wanted to do.’ 11
To make things clear, as a fiction writer, I do not tell stories like Sorkin — I don’t lead with a theme or moral message. I write characters and people — I add details that allow readers to create themes on their own terms. But, even I, a writer living post-postmodernism, can find real value in Sorkin’s pointed storytelling. It’s not for everyone — just like Latin — but for many, it teaches an entirely new way of viewing the world — a view that makes us conscious about the stories, manipulation, and greater happenings around us. It’s all purposeful. Perhaps Sorkin’s success makes a case for Latin study and classic storytelling to stick around — at the least — it made a case for me — and perhaps you should consider it too.
Endnotes
1. The week-long convention is remarkably well planned; each year, it takes place at a different college campus, and according to its website, it already has four out of the next five locations selected.
2. Classical stories, in this case, refer to tales written in Classical Latin, recognized as the literary standard by writers of the late Roman Republic and early Roman Empire, predominantly featuring works written from 75 BCE to the 3rd century CE.
3. Bo Burnham’s Inside is perhaps the pinnacle of relatable comedy. Burnham takes the viewer into the depths of his mind and guides them through his own mental struggles during the Coronavirus pandemic. While a postmodern masterpiece, Inside stands in stark contrast to Greco-Roman classics, as it does not attempt to teach but relate.
4. 4:53 —
5. Referring to President Bill Clinton and his 1998 impeachment.
6.https://www.newswise.com/articles/the-west-wing-directly-affects-publics-political-perception —The quote featured here and found in this essay can also be traced to the book Contemporary Television Series by Michael Hammond and Lucy Mazdon.
7. Released as a play in 1989 and a movie in 1992.
8. Factoid: In Classical fables, it was common practice to use animals to symbolize a moral message about humans.
9. In all, eleven officers were charged with crimes. However, none of them was prosecuted on murder charges. The incident at Abu Ghraib (among other reasons) remains infamous not just because of the horrible abuse that occurred, but also the thousands of photos the officers took while physically and sexually abusing their victims.
10. Virgil and Ovid are two of the more prominent classical Latin writers, writing the Aeneid (the Roman equivalent of The Odyssey) and Metamorphoses, respectively.
11. Source: PBS Newshour with Jim Lehrer, September 27th, 2000.