Cicero Would Cry in the Senate Bathroom

A Statesman’s Guide to Watching Rome Burn Again

(Read by Author)

So You’re the Last Honest Senator…

Picture this.

You're pacing the cloakroom, clutching a speech no one will hear. Your hands are shaking. Your mouth is dry. The Senate floor hums with the dull roar of vanity, posturing, and barely restrained contempt. You are not trending. You are not fundraising. You are not welcome.

You might be Cicero.

You still believe in deliberation. You still believe in truth. You still think, against all evidence, that the system can be saved if only someone speaks clearly enough.

That’s sweet. But the scaffolding is gone. The torch is dropped. And the men who were supposed to guard the flame are selling T-shirts.

Let’s talk about what it feels like to be the last moral man in a chamber full of cowards with ring lights. And what to do when the republic is already smoldering.

---

The Senate Is Still in Session. The Republic Is Not.

Deliberative democracy only works if the people in the room are actually deliberating.

Not yelling for soundbites. Not staging walkouts. Not voting on bills they never read, to solve problems that were never real, on behalf of donors they can’t even name without blushing.

Cicero believed debate was the soul of the republic. He thought words could clarify, elevate, rescue. But what he faced then feels painfully familiar now. Colleagues more interested in preserving their relevance than their oath. Citizens numbed by crisis and craving spectacle. And a strongman with a grin.

Our Senate holds hearings that look like talk show segments. It uses procedural tricks like weapons. It lionizes liars. It cheers bullies. It rewrites history while the cameras roll.

The Roman Senate did this too. They still wore togas. They still quoted virtue. But they had already traded away the republic for the comfort of survival. And by the time they realized Caesar was not a storm but a strategy, it was too late.

---

Collapse Is a Mood

The fluorescent lights buzz like old neon in a discount diner. The flag droops behind the dais, not out of reverence but fatigue. The room smells like old coffee, broken promises, and the kind of cologne that tries too hard to be masculine.

Somewhere in the building, a senator is filming a skit about gas stoves. Another is tweeting about grooming. Another is quietly meeting with a lobbyist to kill the clean water bill again.

Nothing moves. Everything burns.

---

The Death of Nuance Always Comes First

Cicero saw it coming. He tried to warn them. About Caesar, about Antony, about what happens when fear becomes a governing principle.

But the trouble with being the one who sees clearly is that no one wants to hear it. Especially not the people benefitting from the fog.

He was exiled. Then welcomed back. Then hunted. His speeches were the last act of a dying dream. His reward was murder. His hands were nailed to the rostrum so no one else would think of speaking.

We don’t nail hands anymore. We slander. We threaten. We flood inboxes and feeds. But the goal is the same. Make truth unbearable. Make decency expensive. Make warning look like treason.

If you're the modern Cicero, you're not crying in the bathroom because you're weak. You're crying because you're sane. You're crying because you've read the memos. Because you've seen the votes. Because you know the men sitting near you are not confused, they are complicit.

---

The Performance of Patriotism Is the Burial of Law

You can tell a republic is dying by how loudly its leaders wrap themselves in flags while gutting every institution built to preserve them.

They shout about free speech while banning books. They talk about liberty while installing surveillance. They quote the Founders while strangling the vote.

And they do it with polished smiles. With practiced lines. In buildings made of marble and ash.

The Roman Republic fell in stages. Not to an invading army, but to its own insiders. To the hollow men. To the ones who feared being left behind more than they feared tyranny. To those who believed they could ride the wave of Caesar's popularity and still claim innocence when the drowning came.

---

Opportunists Don’t Need a Constitution. Just a Camera

The factions today don’t argue about ideas. They argue about attention.

They don’t debate budgets. They scream about bathrooms.

They don’t represent districts. They play to the base.

If you believe in governance now, you're a threat. If you try to compromise, you're a traitor. If you appeal to reason, they treat you like a fool. The party that once claimed to revere Lincoln now punishes anyone who so much as says the word democracy without sarcasm.

Cicero’s world collapsed under the weight of strongmen and opportunists. So will ours.

And if you think one final principled speech will turn the tide, you may want to check which century you’re standing in.

But speak it anyway.

---

A Short Guide for Watching the Fire

Here’s what you do, dear statesman.

You cannot out-debate a death cult.

You cannot fix what they are actively breaking.

You cannot restore the Senate when its core function has become denial.

But you can be the ember. You can speak even if the chamber is empty. You can hold the line even if it is only you standing there. You can write the truth into the record so the future can find it under the rubble.

Someone will.

And they will know that someone still believed.

---

Benediction for the Last Honest Man

If you cry in the Senate bathroom, let it be because you still care.

Let it be because you have not given yourself to the farce.

Let it be because decency should still have a place in public life, even if it is mocked.

Then wipe your face. Straighten your jacket. And walk back in.

They will mock you. They may silence you. They may end your career.

But they will not erase you.

And when the ruins are studied, your name will not be among the ones who bowed.

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