This chapter outlines the emperor as a figure of wonder and monstrosity. The power of the Roman emperor and empire sought the curation of weird and wonderful things from across the empire and beyond. Such wonders and monstrosities were brought to Rome for public display, which coloured how the emperor himself was perceived in literature that ranges from biography and historiography to paradoxography. The emperor as a figure of enormous power and as a monster comes into full focus.

How did Dar es Salaam became a ‘Cold War city’ in Africa? This chapter sets out the principles which informed the basis of Julius Nyerere’s engagement with the outside world – a set of foreign policy coordinates which remained remarkably consistent. It then shows how a violent revolution in the Zanzibar archipelago pushed Tanganyika into a hasty union with the islands, while an army mutiny in Dar es Salaam exposed the fragility of Nyerere’s government. A series of foreign policy crises with major Western states followed. Meanwhile, Tanzania reached out to the socialist world and developed close connections with China. By the mid-1960s, Dar es Salaam had attracted the attention of the Cold War world. The remainder of the chapter then demonstrates how a ‘Cold War political culture’ became inscribed into Dar es Salaam’s public sphere and concrete spaces. Propaganda, rumour, and espionage were major preoccupations of the Tanzanian government.

How did Dar es Salaam became a ‘Cold War city’ in Africa? This chapter sets out the principles which informed the basis of Julius Nyerere’s engagement with the outside world – a set of foreign policy coordinates which remained remarkably consistent. It then shows how a violent revolution in the Zanzibar archipelago pushed Tanganyika into a hasty union with the islands, while an army mutiny in Dar es Salaam exposed the fragility of Nyerere’s government. A series of foreign policy crises with major Western states followed. Meanwhile, Tanzania reached out to the socialist world and developed close connections with China. By the mid-1960s, Dar es Salaam had attracted the attention of the Cold War world. The remainder of the chapter then demonstrates how a ‘Cold War political culture’ became inscribed into Dar es Salaam’s public sphere and concrete spaces. Propaganda, rumour, and espionage were major preoccupations of the Tanzanian government.

In 53.19, Dio discusses the impact that the transition of Rome’s system of government from a Republic to a monarchy under Augustus had for the flow of accurate political news and information. This programmatic section of the Roman History has often been discussed for the insight it provides into Dio’s historical methodology. This chapter takes a complementary perspective on 53.19, examining Dio’s view that the new monarchical government led to the rise of rumour, and the way that this theme plays out in the Roman History at large. It shows that the presence of rumour in Dio’s narrative increases the closer one comes to Octavian assuming sole power, especially during the triumviral period, which is marked by attempts to control channels of news. Dio’s emphasis on rumour in the imperial books, it is argued, reflects the uncertainty engendered by the concentration of political power in the hands of one man, whose real thoughts and intentions always remained inscrutable.

This chapter presents the political parties and personalities that dominated Burundi’s first democratic contest, between 1959 and 1961, and examines the modes of political communication they deployed. Between the appeals of nationalist, gradualist and populist parties, most popular debate took place in the form of rumour: the population passed on uncertain news, contradictory political claims and speculation about political figures, and discussed which rumours were true. While the authority of the king was a point of consensus, the relative authority of chiefs and politicians was uncertain. The chapter examines the modes of authority adopted in public address by Chief Baranyanka, the nationalist Uprona party and Belgian authorities, and focuses on the rhetoric of written tracts perfected by Uprona. It identifies a shared language of truth across all political voices, denouncing rumour and seeking to convince the population of a singular truth of authority, and demonstrates the importance of Uprona’s attempts to engage the intelligence of its audience. In recognising the truth the party expressed through this language of truth, the population endorsed its authority.

After independence, Burundi went through a process of rapid political disintegration. Uprona factionalised into political and ethnic blocs, while facing off against Rwanda as an ideological and geopolitical enemy. This chapter explores the rapid changes between 1962 and 1967, seeing the attempts to rule in the control of official truth. It examines the extreme hostility of the state towards the borderland population, and the forms of political language used in national address. It presents a moment of violence in 1964 when dissidents ran a campaign of arson from across the border, and the performances of loyalty enacted by others to display their obedience to official truth. Noting the national crisis over Prime Minister Ngendandumwe’s assassination in 1965, and the subsequent elections, attempted coups d’état and the first large-scale ethnic violence, it finally presents local responses to a military coup in 1966 that abolished the monarchy. Some resisted the coup by treating it as just another ‘rumour’, but most greeted the news with cautious silence. Official truth changed to exclude royal authority, but maintained old hostilities to Rwanda, rumour and ethnic politics.

This chapter studies the letters of Bishop Agobard of Lyon (d. 840), who was dismissed from the court of Louis the Pious in 822, after having delivered what appears to have been an inappropriate speech. It explores the ways in which Agobard adopted different voices of admonition and speaker positions to advise and criticise his emperor. This chapter mainly focusses on Agobard’s letters of admonition addressed to the emperor and his courtiers in the years during which he was shunned by the court. It addresses the question of whether Agobard was really an outsider, or merely styled himself as such in his letters to get his message across more effectively. A second question is the one that has informed every chapter of this book: that of the extent to which these letters can be situated in the framework of the rhetorical tradition of free speech.