Guarding the Word: Speech, Censorship, and Power in Ancient Rome

In the Roman Empire, formal laws restricting speech were relatively few, yet expressing criticism could still carry significant risks. While imperial officials who were seen as punishing dissent often faced backlash, it was social expectations and the potential harm to one’s reputation and career that truly influenced what individuals dared to say or write.

Echoes of Control: Free speech and Free Thought in the Roman Empire

The Roman Empire lacked a specific term for "censorship" as we know it today, particularly the "suppression of the written word." However, evidence confirms that suppression—including book burning—occurred repeatedly after Augustus established the Principate.

This lack of terminology reflects a deeper cultural issue; when a significant aspect of society lacks precise articulation, it often signals a "malaise" that impacts both public and private life, creating confusion, insecurity, and heightened uncertainty.

This ambiguity also suggests we shouldn't judge ancient actions by today’s standards, as censorship operated "very differently" under Roman rule than our modern ideas of it. The Latin word censura, derived from censeo (meaning "to assess," "judge"), referred to a magistrate, the "censor," responsible for the census and for supervising public morals, which could include punishing "un-Roman" behaviors. However, Republican censors had no role in censoring written works.

While later emperors assumed censorial roles, they rarely used it to justify book burning; instead, they did so to remove dissenters under a guise of tradition.

A possible representation of a Roman emperor, burning a piece of parchment. Illustration: Midjourney

The Romans were known for a "remarkable flexibility" in interpreting laws, often combining adherence to form with flexible content. This allowed Augustus’s regime to brand itself as the res publica restituta—"the Republic restored"—even as it transformed into a military-backed autocracy. Augustus achieved this through linguistic shifts, subtly reassigning new meanings to old political terms, which Roman society adapted to as they adjusted to the Empire’s new realities.

In line with this, the absence of a term for the suppression of writing reflects a "schizophrenia" or split in social perception, where political motives and actions often diverged from their public portrayal. Tacitus highlights this shift, remarking that in the Republic "deeds were prosecuted, but words went unpunished," a freedom of thought starkly contrasted with Augustus's new order.

In ancient Rome, censorship wasn’t a formal institution; there were no official censors to approve or deny literary works. Instead, anyone influential at the imperial court could assume the role of censor, scrutinizing writings for any hint of criticism and bringing potentially "dangerous" works to the emperor’s attention.

In a regime filled with paranoia, such individuals wielded considerable power, often interpreting works with a malicious bias, or animus nocendi (the intent to harm), and attributing interpretatio prava (prejudiced interpretation) to works they found threatening. This volatile environment forced writers to navigate carefully, sometimes using coded language to express dissent, relying on readers to "decode" their true meaning—though these same readers might interpret the message in harmful ways.

What Censorship truly meant in the Empire

In the Roman Empire, writers who opposed the regime could face severe repercussions, as shown by the case of Mamercus Aemilius Scaurus. A play of his, based on myth, apparently provoked the anger of Emperor Tiberius after the Praetorian Prefect Macro convinced Tiberius the villain reflected him.

Writers often embedded layers of meaning in their works, such as the poet Ovid, who claimed that his work’s misinterpretation (interpretatio prava) by a "cruel enemy" at court led to his exile. Ovid’s Tristia vividly conveys his shock at the emperor’s wrath and his struggle to avoid "becoming his own enemy" due to the intense self-censorship he felt compelled to exercise. 

Others, like the poet Curiatius Maternus, were bolder. In Tacitus’s Dialogus de Oratoribus, Maternus refuses to dilute his critique of tyranny in his play Cato, fully aware of the risks, determined to speak out against oppression. Tacitus implies this outspoken resistance likely sealed Maternus’ fate, as such displays were intolerable even under Emperor Vespasian, considered relatively moderate. Political republicanism, while largely a nostalgic ideal by the first century AD, still had enough symbolic weight to be seen as subversive, marking those who embraced it as potential threats to the regime.

Roman rulers could be selective about enforcement, as illustrated by Augustus, who allowed Cremutius Cordus to praise Brutus and Cassius as "the last of the Romans." But under Tiberius, when Cordus clashed with the powerful Sejanus, his earlier work was cited as treasonous, leading to his suicide and the symbolic burning of his histories—a futile act, as many copies survived and reappeared in later years.

Tacitus famously reflects on this suppression, noting, “The suppressed genius grows in authority,” as repressed ideas tend to flourish even under heavy-handed attempts to eradicate them. The famed fabulist Phaedrus also faced repercussions when Tiberius’s Prefect Sejanus perceived a personal insult in his seemingly innocuous fables. Phaedrus makes it clear that Sejanus’s wrath stemmed from bias, not legality, remarking that he’d accept punishment "if another were the judge.”

For others, the danger lay in missteps, like Clutorius Priscus, who composed a poem in anticipation of Drusus Caesar’s death, only for Drusus to recover, and Priscus to be condemned for his misjudged eulogy. This event reveals a lingering Roman belief in the magical power of words, as seen in earlier laws that equated slander with spell-casting.

In this era, “retroactive censorship” was common, with no standardized process to prevent the spread of dissenting ideas before publication. Instead, rulers punished writers after the fact, leading to cases like Nero’s banning of Lucan’s Pharsalia, a critique of civil war that Nero interpreted as seditious. Banned from public life, Lucan continued his work underground, ultimately joining a conspiracy against the Emperor, and dying at 26 after being ordered to commit suicide.

Self-censorship became a natural defense mechanism, as writers anticipated potential backlash. Sometimes, as in Persius’ Satires, passages were altered after the author’s death to avoid offending the ruling powers, as in the line that originally read, “King Midas has the ears of an ass,” referring to Emperor Nero.

This story, whether true or myth, illustrates how ingrained this caution became.

As Thomas Babington Macaulay noted, Lucan having only lived up to 26, must have been one of the most extraordinary men that ever lived. A possible representation of him hiding underground, and plotting against Emperor Nero. Illustration: Midjourney

Tacitus’s observation of the “silent generation” under Domitian encapsulates the era’s fear:

“We would have lost memory itself together with voice if it were as easy to forget as it is to keep silent.”

Roman authors lived in a perpetual state of anxiety, where laws mattered less than the interpretation of those close to power. A writer’s survival often depended on alliances and good fortune, as rivals and informers could easily manipulate accusations. The renowned Seneca remarked on the burden borne by Roman intellectuals, noting that the pressure on them "is almost unimaginable to the ordinary citizen of the present day."

This climate of uncertainty and vigilance shaped a world where the freedom to speak—or write—required great courage, careful alliances, and often a willingness to risk everything. (Navigating the Uncertain: Literature and Censorship in the Early Roman Empire, by Vasily Rudich)

The Early Days of Censorship in the Roman Empire

As Rome transitioned from a republic to an empire, the shift was abruptly signaled by Julius Caesar, whose unapologetic stance on power led to his assassination in 44 B.C. His successor, Octavian (later Augustus), observed and adapted by maintaining a facade of republicanism, carefully balancing power with the appearance of traditional governance.

Despite this caution, many Roman aristocrats resisted the shift to monarchy, particularly within literary and educational circles, where republican ideals remained strong. Augustus found himself reliant on these republic-minded elites, even as he sought to consolidate his authority. 

Among Rome’s writers, some adjusted to the new order and began praising Augustus, yet resistance lingered, notably in classrooms and literature where past republic heroes were still revered. For instance, Livy’s homage to Pompey led Augustus to jokingly refer to him as a "Pompeian." In response to republican nostalgia, Augustus restrained from directly imposing a state-run education system, allowing traditional anti-monarchic teachings to persist, where tyrannicides were still celebrated.

Julius Caesar had previously embraced free expression, choosing to counter criticism by publishing rebuttals rather than enforcing censorship. Even during his time, critical works against Caesar and his family, like those by Bibaeulus and Catullus, circulated freely. However, Augustus gradually altered this tolerance, especially as anonymous critiques and inflammatory pamphlets gained popularity. Initially, Augustus attempted to counter these attacks with public responses, but finding them ineffective, he eventually ordered that anonymous publications be punishable, a broad measure that veiled his primary aim of curbing anti-imperial dissent. 

Though Augustus avoided drastic punishments, enforcing mild exiles or fines for outspoken critics, the freedom to critique the regime was increasingly restricted. For example, he dealt with the outspoken Cassius Patavinus by imposing a fine and exile rather than making him a political martyr. In letters, Augustus advised his successor, Tiberius, to refrain from harsh retaliation against critics, advocating restraint:

“It is enough to have the power to prevent them from doing us any harm.”

This approach marked a cautious beginning to imperial censorship, which later emperors would abandon in favor of intimidation and severe reprisals against dissent, paving the way to the harsher restrictions seen under Caligula and subsequent rulers. Through Augustus’ measured responses to criticism, the trajectory of Rome’s censorship policies was set, evolving into increasingly stringent controls over speech and expression in the empire.

Augustus’ Policy on Freedom of Speech and Book Burning

Augustus initially employed fines and exile for those who weren’t openly conspiring against his rule. A notable case was Anaxilaos, a Thessalian philosopher skilled in magic, who was banished from Rome, likely for expressing anti-monarchical views.

However, non-Romans often faced less stringent penalties. One example is Timagenes, a famous historian and former slave from Syria, who became a prominent intellectual in Rome. Despite a sharp disdain for Roman culture, he enjoyed Augustus' tolerance and even attended discussions at the emperor’s residence.

Timagenes eventually pushed the limits of Augustus' patience with his biting remarks, particularly after clashing with another professor, Kraton, in the emperor’s presence. Banished from the palace but not from the city, Timagenes continued to live freely and held public readings of his works, eventually burning his history of Augustus as an act of defiance. 

Augustus marked a shift in censorship with a mass-burning of over two thousand oracular books, all except the revered Sibylline texts. Framed as a religious, rather than political act, this purge subtly targeted works predicting political upheaval. Later, during a famine from 6-8 A.D., public discontent and incendiary pamphlets surged, prompting Augustus to restrict anonymous writings.

His advisers, particularly Tiberius, advocated for a firmer hand on free expression. Augustus reluctantly began to penalize academics who challenged his policies. One professor, Corvus, faced charges for discussing pro-birth-control arguments, a sensitive topic given Augustus’ policies to combat Rome's low birthrate. 

A key legal tool Augustus used was the lex maiestatis, adapted from the Twelve-Table laws to criminalize slanderous writing. The first to be targeted was the historian Labienus, known for his fierce loyalty to republican ideals. His unfiltered critiques earned him the name “Rabienus, the Rabid,” and his life’s work was sentenced to the flames by senatorial decree. Following him, Cassius Severus, another vocal republican, faced exile and saw his writings burned. Severus continued to write in defiance even in exile on Crete, showing his resilience until he was ultimately sent to a remote island, where he lived in poverty until his death.

This progression from a relatively lenient stance to one where writings and free speech were systematically curtailed reflected Augustus’ increasingly severe approach as he grew older and less tolerant of dissent. While no person faced execution solely for their writing, the new penalties—burning works and legal punishments for dissenting views—set a precedent.

By contrast, Tacitus later praised Augustus’ early restraint, noting how he allowed even critical writings by authors like Titus Livius to survive. This early moderation, Tacitus implied, stood in stark contrast to the severe censorship under Tiberius. This shift, though gradual, marked a critical transformation in Roman policies on freedom of expression, culminating in a period where intellectual dissent was both legally and publicly controlled.

Tiberius’ Shift from Leniency to Suppression of Free Speech

Following Augustus' death in 14 A.D., Tiberius began his rule with a period of leniency that some critics saw as deceptive. Tacitus remarks that this policy “splendid in words” yet “devoid of honesty,” masked a descent into an oppressive regime.

Despite this, early in his reign, Tiberius did not employ the lex maiestatis until pamphlets appeared, condemning him and his conflicts with his mother. Tiberius, echoing Augustus’ stance, reopened the door to treason cases, saying, "Laws exist to be practiced!" His leniency quickly faded as the emperor allowed the prosecution of critics by private individuals, some of whom gained wealth and prestige from successful cases.

As accusations poured in, Tiberius initially hesitated to apply the law strictly. A notable case was the trial of Granius Marcellus, accused of treasonous remarks. When one charge involved his placement of a statue higher than those of the Caesars, Tiberius was so enraged that he nearly intervened directly. Yet, aware of his outburst, he had Marcellus acquitted of lex maiestatis charges. 

However, a plot by Libo Drusus in 16 A.D., involving astrological predictions, escalated Tiberius’ response. Fearful of the influence of prophecy, he ordered astrologers expelled from Italy and enforced capital punishment for two involved. Rome, though wary of republican views, punished astrologers even more severely since they fueled potential conspiracies with promises of imperial power.

The climate of suppression intensified with Tiberius’ actions against his own family. Appuleia Varilla, Augustus’ niece, was charged with lex maiestatis for “slanderous gossip.” Tiberius ruled that insults against Augustus were sacrilegious, yet remarks against him or his mother would not face prosecution, reflecting the emperor’s ambivalent policy on personal critique. 

Among the most notorious cases, in 25 A.D., Aulus Cremutius Cordus, a historian, was accused of praising Brutus and Cassius, former republican heroes, (as mentioned above) Tacitus records Cordus’ impassioned defense before the Senate, where he argued for the freedom to honor past figures, not to incite rebellion.

After his speech, he committed suicide, and his works were burned—another step in silencing dissenting historical voices. 

A possible representation of Cordus starving himself to death, as he himself claimed in a letter to his daughter, Marcia. Illustration: Midjourney

By the 30s A.D., even noblemen like Mamercus Scaurus faced charges for works hinting at the "follies of the reigning prince." Accused of treason, Scaurus ultimately chose suicide, as did others, to protect their estates from confiscation, preserving their families’ inheritance.

As his reign neared its end, Tiberius’ repression grew. Many Romans were executed for mere words, and ownership or reading of condemned books became criminal. Cassius Dio notes that Tiberius “investigated all slighting remarks” but only managed to tarnish his own reputation further. This era of repression under Tiberius set a precedent, marking a steady erosion of free speech and historical truth in Rome.

Caligula’s Reversal of Censorship and the Resurgence of Condemned Writings

When Caligula ascended to power in 37 A.D., he aimed to break with Tiberius' repressive legacy by revoking many of his sentences and initially refraining from applying the lex maiestatis. Most notably, he rehabilitated the works of authors condemned by Tiberius and Augustus, such as Titus Labienus, Cremutius Cordus, and Cassius Severus.

Caligula permitted these banned texts to be “hunted up,” owned, and read. Courageous friends and family members who had saved copies, risking death, now brought these works back into public knowledge. Quintilian’s later listing of these works in classroom readings further attests to their survival, as does evidence that Cordus’ daughter Marcia, with others, had hidden copies of her father’s writings.

Seneca later praised Marcia’s actions as preserving a vital part of Roman scholarship. Addressing her, he wrote:

“When the opportunity came, you saved him from the only real death, restoring the books he had written in blood.

Roman history will remain uncorrupted, a testament to a hero who would not bow, whose words live on, free and fearless.”

Though Seneca’s optimism for Cordus’ legacy was perhaps too high, Cordus himself became an enduring symbol of intellectual freedom. Quintilian, despite his caution, conceded that “the bold utterances of Cremutius deserve their fame,” while his cautious edits still revealed Cordus’ fearless spirit. Among Quintilian's students was perhaps a young Publius Cornelius Tacitus, who would grow to be one of Rome's greatest historians. (Bookburning and Censorship in Ancient Rome: A Chapter from the History of Freedom of speech, by Frederick H. Cramer, Journal of the History of Ideas)

Tacitus, reflecting on Cordus’ ordeal, condemned the act of censorship:

“The Fathers ordered his books to be burned… yet copies survived.

How laughable, the delusions of those who think their power can defraud posterity.

Persecution only strengthens the reputation of the persecuted.

History remembers them; it is the censors themselves who are disgraced.”