Senator Helvidius Priscus kept saying in the Senate what he thought, even when emperor Vespasian no longer wanted to hear it. Epictetus preserved their exchange. The emperor: then do not come to the Senate. Helvidius: as long as I am a senator, I must come. Fine, said the emperor, but then stay silent. Do not ask my opinion and I will be silent. But I must consult the Senate. And I must answer what seems right to me. If you speak, I will have you killed. Did I ever claim to be immortal? You do your part and I do mine: yours is to kill, mine is to die without trembling. Vespasian eventually carried out his threat. Epictetus told the story not as tragedy but as demonstration: this is what a man looks like who knows what is his.
Choosing between your role and your safety, while the most powerful man in the world holds up the bill.
The threat and the outcome: the emperor's. The role, the word and the back that stayed straight: Helvidius' own. He divided the conversation literally into two boxes, out loud, against the emperor.
Nobody is asking for your life today. But where do you stay silent because speaking costs something, and what is the silence costing meanwhile?
Yours, Not Yours · A Stoic practice ground · All cases