Is it possible to kill someone after death? In ancient Rome – yes. Damnatio memoriae, or condemnation of memory, was one of the harshest punishments: names were erased, images destroyed, and even mentioning the person became forbidden. One emperor subjected to this was Domitian – a despot who demanded to be called a god, yet also a patron of architecture whose monuments still define the landscape of Rome today. Can someone truly be removed from history? Or does every attempt to erase only make memory stronger?

Damnatio memoriae, a Latin phrase meaning condemnation of memory, was a powerful and symbolic punishment in ancient Rome. It involved the deliberate erasure of an individual from public records and collective memory, often posthumously. This form of social and political obliteration was typically reserved for disgraced emperors, politicians, or other prominent figures whose memory the Senate or succeeding rulers sought to destroy.

Rooted in the Roman belief that a person’s legacy was an essential part of their existence, the punishment went beyond mere dishonor. Names were chiseled out of inscriptions, statues were defaced or re-carved, coins were melted or altered, and all public references were systematically purged. Even speaking the condemned person’s name was forbidden. Honors and titles granted to their descendants were revoked, effectively severing any lasting ties to historical recognition.

The idea wasn’t purely political – Romans believed that remembrance was key to a soul’s immortality. To erase someone’s memory was to deny them eternal life, a kind of posthumous spiritual death.

Among those condemned to oblivion were several prominent figures in Roman history, each representing a different facet of the empire’s volatile politics. Geta, murdered by his brother Caracalla in 211 CE, was so thoroughly erased that his name and image were removed from thousands of inscriptions, even in private residences. Nero, though never formally subjected to damnatio memoriae, was unofficially discredited due to his tyrannical rule and suspected involvement in the Great Fire of Rome – yet he remained oddly popular among the common people, which preserved his name in cultural memory. Elagabalus, who reigned from 218 to 222 CE, was a teenage emperor and high priest of the eastern sun god Elagabal. His reign scandalised Rome with its religious reforms, disregard for tradition, and sexual transgressions. After his assassination, his body was mutilated and thrown into the Tiber, and his memory was officially condemned. Sejanus, the once-powerful prefect of the Praetorian Guard under Emperor Tiberius, was likewise erased from official memory after plotting to seize power. Maximian, a former co-emperor who rebelled against Constantine the Great, was also condemned following his forced suicide. Gnaeus Piso, accused of poisoning Germanicus, became another casualty of political retribution, with his legacy wiped from public record.

One of the most notable targets of damnatio memoriae was Emperor Domitian, who ruled from 81 to 96 AD. His reign began with stability and ambition – restoring the Capitol, constructing the Arch of Titus, and launching major building projects. But over time, his rule veered into authoritarianism. Domitian insisted on being called Dominus et Deus (Master and God), and his autocratic behavior alienated many, especially the Senate.

Bust of Emperor Domitian on display in Altes Museum in Berlin.

Domitian’s growing paranoia led to systematic purges across the imperial elite. Senators and equestrians were frequently accused of maiestas (treason) – a deliberately broad and vague charge that allowed the emperor to eliminate perceived threats. These accusations were often based on rumour, denunciation, or ambiguous gestures, such as failure to celebrate imperial anniversaries with sufficient enthusiasm. Punishments included exile, execution, or forced suicide, the latter a Roman tradition allowing the accused to preserve some honour and secure their family’s property -though even this was not always respected under Domitian’s rule.

Property confiscation became not just a consequence, but a motive. By targeting wealthy and influential families, Domitian secured resources to fund military campaigns and ambitious construction projects, while simultaneously weakening the traditional aristocracy. This policy of fear extended into the cultural sphere as well – philosophers were banished, and authors censored or silenced, particularly those seen as sympathetic to Republican ideals.

The climate of suspicion and repression fostered growing resentment within the Senate, where many viewed Domitian not as a stabilising autocrat, but as a tyrant undermining Rome’s republican heritage. These tensions ultimately culminated in his assassination in 96 AD, allegedly orchestrated by court officials, including members of his inner circle and even his chamberlain. According to some sources, his wife Domitia may have been complicit, though this remains uncertain.

Following his death, the Senate condemned Domitian’s memory. His statues were defaced, his name was scratched off inscriptions, and efforts were made to erase him from history.

But how effective was damnatio memoriae, really? In practice, it was nearly impossible to erase someone entirely – especially an emperor who had left such a tangible imprint on Rome. Many condemned figures remained preserved in private art, provincial coinage, or overlooked inscriptions. Domitian is a perfect example of this paradox.

Yet, despite these efforts, Domitian’s legacy persists. Many of his architectural contributions survive: the Palatine complex, the Stadium of Domitian (today’s Piazza Navona), and the expansion of the Colosseum’s hypogeum. He also commissioned the Temple of Minerva and a new imperial palace complex on the Palatine Hill (Domus Flavia and Domus Augustana), reinforcing Rome’s image as the capital of a divine empire. Ironically, through these works, the emperor Rome tried to forget remains physically more present than many it chose to remember.