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Welcome back to The Human Leader Project — sort of. I’d planned to send you an essay this morning, and another one next Sunday, and I’m going to miss both. I’m in Istanbul for the week, and it turns out a city built across two continents and several empires doesn’t leave much room in the day for drafting. The next full essay will land Sunday, May 24. In the meantime, a short note from the road.
I went down into the Basilica Cistern yesterday. Above ground, the city is shops and traffic and ruins held together by tourists. Below ground, sixteen hundred years old, it is vast and quiet and exact. The columns rise out of the water in even rows. The vaults are accurate the way modern things are accurate. People walked carefully, the way people walk carefully in churches.
It was built by a Roman emperor to keep the city alive during a siege. A water system. A piece of infrastructure. Beautiful by accident, or beautiful because nothing the Romans built was allowed to be only useful. It doesn’t hold the city’s water anymore. It is a museum now. But it still stands, and it still teaches anyone who walks down into it.
Jonathan asked me, somewhere in the middle of it, how they did this that long ago. I told him I truly don’t know, but I guarantee a lot of people lost their lives while doing it. I meant it. So much of what we walk through is built that way — beautiful things paid for with lives that don’t show up in the architecture. The fingerprints the Romans left across continents are exceptional and they are violent, and there is no version of the story where you get one without the other. The Romans were one of many that have been and are. The Cistern doesn’t apologize for that. It doesn’t explain it. It just stands.
I came back up the stairs into the daylight and the noise of the street, and I have been thinking about that exchange ever since. Standing in a room that beautiful and that complicated, you become aware of your own size.
I have been here only two days, and already I have felt smaller in this city than I have felt in a long time. I cannot read the signs. I cannot follow the conversations. I am one more person passing through a place that has been standing here, holding more than one truth at a time, since long before any country I have ever lived in existed.
I think that is the right size to feel.
See you on the 24th.
— Matthew