5. Ancient Egypt from a certain point of view offers
the most interesting situation to the student of freedom
of speech. Advisers at all levels and village notables
existed in Egypt as elsewhere, but there was no place
for formal assemblies in a country which had settled
for divine kingship and regular bureaucracy before
recorded history began. Yet the Egyptians appreciated
eloquence and knew the power of words. As the Vizier
Prah-hotep said in his Instruction, “Eloquence is more
hidden than the emerald, yet it may be found with
maidservants at the grindstone.” The warning came
true in the crisis of the First Intermediate Period
(2200-2000 B.C.?). In the Admonition of the Leyden
papyrus, Ipu-wer reflects the new discontent: “All
female slaves are free with their tongues. When their
mistress speaks, it is irksome to the servants.” Protests
became loud. The “Story of the Eloquent Peasant” has
perhaps too much of a happy end to be regarded as
a story of social protest. The eloquent peasant, after
denouncing injustice in violent terms, not only gets his
goods back, but also obtains the patronage of the Chief
Steward whom he had accused. Other texts are less
ambiguous. The Sage Ipu-wer himself takes advantage
of the freedom of speech he notices as a bad symptom
in the maidservants. He blames the King. He compels
him to defend himself and concludes by saying that
what the King has done, though perhaps good, is not
good enough. The “Dispute over Suicide” presents
suicide as the only remedy for a social situation in
which nobody is left worth talking to:
To whom can I speak to-day?
No one thinks of yesterday
No one at this time acts for him who has acted.
The point is made, even if ultimately (but this is
not certain) the soul persuades the body to wait for
death instead of hastening it by suicide.
This determined questioning of the ordinary as-
sumptions of life was never aimed at political reforms;
if anything, it encouraged anarchy, religious skepti-
cism, and enjoyment of whatever pleasure life could
offer. Another well-known early text, the “Song of the
Harper,” is the classic statement of Egyptian hedonism.
In later times return to order and power politics took
the form of the idealization of silence. The Wise Man
of the Post-Hyksos period is a silent man.
In perhaps the fifteenth century B.C. the scribe Ani
advised his son: “A man may fall into ruin because of
his tongue.” The “Hymn by the Scribe to his god
Thoth” states: “The silent one comes and finds the
well.” According to the teaching of Amenemope—one
of the late texts which influenced Hebrew Wisdom (or
which were influenced by it!)—“the truly silent man
holds himself apart. He is like a tree growing in a
garden. It flourishes, it doubles its fruits; it stands before
the Lord.” Egyptian history is a very long history, and
it is dangerous to string together texts which are sepa-
rated by centuries. But the final impression is that in
the crisis of the Old Kingdom freedom of speech be-
came an issue. Writers were aware that protesting,
debating, and accusing were ways of undermining the
existing order. Silence appeared to be the remedy: it
became a central virtue in later days. It did not neces-
sarily mean compliance and obedience; it included an
element of astuteness and perhaps of concealment. But
it implied the essential acceptance of an unmodifiable
order. The prospects of freedom of speech had never
been brilliant, because there was no institution to
which potential reformers could turn when they felt
dissatisfied with the Pharaonic administration. There
was no regular assembly in which to voice discontent.
