My Justification

In leaving Rome to assume command of the armies intended for the Parthian Campaign, it would seem as though I have alarmed many of Rome's conscript fathers. My supporters in Rome have informed me that many Senators are calling for my resignation from the position of General, my return to Rome, and the forfeiting of the armies who pledged their loyalty to me following my father's assassination. If I thought it would defuse our present crisis and bring peace and honor to Rome, nothing would make me happier than to abide by the Senate's request. However, common sense tells that this is not the case.

It is no secret: the status quo, championed by my accusers, is not only far from satisfactory, but is failing Rome. I am not merely referring to the constant stream of insults to my honor and reputation that comes from certain members of the Senate. I still consider these private matters, despite the efforts of wise men like Brutus and Flavus to turn them into state policy. Apparently, when you cannot beat or stab someone in person, shouting vulgarities at the shadows is the next best alternative. I speak of the fact that the Republic has become unsteady, inefficient, and disingenuous. More and more, it cannot address its most basic responsibilities—attending to financial obligations, ensuring military security and leadership, and completing the public works projects intended to benefit all Romans. The power and authority it has been entrusted with is being squandered in petty rivalries by men more interested in guarding their own fortunes than the well-being of Rome. By men who consider preserving their ancient fortunes and noble names at the cost of the Roman people an excusable, even honorable, goal. If they were truly interested in honoring Rome, they would concern themselves with her greatness—military triumphs, expansion of the provinces, development of Rome itself—rather than just their own pockets. It's amazing how stubborn some of these men have become, having demonstrated their unwillingness to negotiate or exercise any sort of political flexibility.

It distresses me to see that many of these "wise" men equate the survival of the Republic with the survival of their own landholdings and riches, believing that there is no future for the Republic if their families aren't enjoying its splendors and luxuries. I cannot surrender my military command to such men. This thinly-disguised vanity can't be allowed to govern the legions, as it would certainly mean the end of Rome has a military power, something countless Romans, most of them who never enjoyed the sort of splendor and comfort these "wise" men have been entitled to since their birth, spilled their blood and gave their lives for. In asking me to resign, the Senate asked me to dishonor and betray men who pledged their loyalty to me following news of my father's death at the hands of these "wise" men. Now, some in the Senate say that I should be crucified alongside Marcus Aemilius Lepidus. Am I to entrust my armies, the wellbeing of loyal men, to these characters?

I am reminded of another Roman whom, as a young man, was forced to make a similar decision for the greatness of Rome, even if it meant defying some of the Senate's sacred leaders. A man whom stood in opposition to my father, yes, but before this was a hero to many in the Senate and a brother to its leaders. A young Gnaeus Pompey Magnus, born outside the elite circle of the Patricians, was fully embroiled in the power struggle of the Social War at the age of seventeen. It was there Pompey Magnus rose to greatness, defeating Rome's enemies in Italy and being compared by his allies with no one less than Alexander the Great. When he returned to Rome, his enemies tried to fault him with charges of misappropriate of plunder, but were unsuccessful—Pompey Magnus was a hero to Rome, much to the bitterness of those Patricians. He was not kept from doing his duty as a Roman by jealous, entitled men, and nor will I. He knew that he must defy the Senate for the survival of Rome.

I have not become the hero young Pompey Magnus was to Rome, however, I feel I must do as he did. After no short consideration, I have come to the conclusion that I will neither resign from my command nor forfeit my armies to a hand-picked general of the Senate without assurances that these armies will not be squandered and trivialized. I am fully aware of the implications of these choices, and it remains my intention to avoid Civil War and shedding the blood of my fellow Romans. Accordingly, I feel as though my refusal is the only responsible course of action. If the Senate interprets these actions as a sign of defiance, I remind them of the men who stood in defiance of their institution in the past for the glory of all Romans before me. Above all, I remain steadfast in my determination that the soldiers who swore their loyalty to me are not "disposable" for the goals of a rash and ill-advised Senate body. Rome is more than just her a few privileged men in the Senate: it is her soldiers and her citizens as well.