Why Are the Transcripts Hidden?
Or a Problem I Have with Counter-Imperial Readings of the New Testament
(avg. read time: 9–17 mins.)
Over the last few decades, there has been a popular trend supporting counter-imperial readings of the NT. That is, scholars have argued for readings of various degrees of critique of the Roman Empire, the values thereof, the imperial cult, imperial despotism, the hierarchy, and so on. There was a time when I went along with this trend, not least because one of my major influences—N. T. Wright—has been a major promoter of it. I had never supported some of the more encompassing claims about what all in the NT is counter-imperial, but I still adhered to Wright’s common slogan that to say Jesus is Lord (κύριος) is to say that Caesar is not. Now, of course, that is obviously true, in that Caesar is not the ultimate power or authority. But I had also followed the implication that this meant the Christian message was inherently subversive in the way Wright and others described.
Eventually, through a combination of realizing objections from others (prominently including Seyoon Kim and John Barclay, though there are others) had not been sufficiently addressed and perceiving the methodological and historical weaknesses in the claims often made, I came to significantly modify my views. While I think there are counter-imperial elements in Revelation in particular (though even here I would dispute what many scholars have argued; for example, see here), I think the claims have been overblown. Of course, I have noted in my series here various correlations that could be made with Roman socio-political discourse, including positive and negative correlations, as well as broader similarities. But I think the field has too often been driven by thin comparisons or misplaced comparisons (for more on doing comparison well, see this series). In the absence of methodological rigor, scholars have tended to make superficial comparisons, jump multiple steps, and then conclude that there are counter-imperial elements in a text. However, I am not here to say too much about the variety of problems in what is quite a broad field. I want to focus on one rather central weakness: the appeal to the “hidden transcript.”
One might wonder why it is not more obvious that the NT is pervasively and subversively critical of the Roman Empire and why certain texts—particularly Rom 13:1–7 and 1 Pet 2:13–17—regardless of their misuse, certainly seem to counter at least some of the counter-imperial claims. Enter the notion of the “hidden transcript.” This is adopted from the work of James C. Scott, usually his Domination and the Arts of Resistance.1 In contrast with the public transcript of interactions between the dominators and the subordinates that is shaped, directed, and enforced by the former—so that the contributions of the subordinates involve “impression management” for their own protection, which entails that “the questionable meaning of the public transcript suggests the key roles played by disguise and surveillance in power relations”—2 Scott argues that each subordinate/subaltern group,
creates, out of ordeal, a “hidden transcript” that represents a critique of power spoken behind the back of the dominant. The powerful, for their part, also develop a hidden transcript representing the practices and claims of their rule that cannot be openly vowed. A comparison of the hidden transcript of the weak with that of the powerful and of both hidden transcripts to the public transcript of power relations offers a substantially new way of understanding resistance to domination.3
The hidden transcript of the powerful is not nearly as frequently in focus in NT scholarship, nor is it typically considered pertinent to examining what the NT authors wrote, so this will not be addressed further. Scott later relates the public transcript to the hidden transcript in that the latter “consists of those offstage speeches, gestures, and practices that confirm, contradict, or inflect what appears in the public transcript.”4 The hidden transcript is akin to the notion of “everyday resistance” that Scott has also emphasized. As illustrated in an article he co-authored with my friend David Moe:
Subaltern politics of everyday resistance can take the form of petitions, gossiping, peaceful marches, strikes, boycotts, and others. Such expressions of activism should be considered political: any theoretical account that ignores them ignores the most vital means by which lower classes and seemingly those dispossessed of their voice manifest their political interests. Everyday resistance is thus a hidden form of resistance based on the actions of ordinary people in their everyday lives. This particular form of resistance is a way of undermining power in a matter that is usually hidden and invisible. It is, in fact, the most common form of resistance to domination. It is a practical expression of hidden resistance that is relatively safe: it can become an effective tool for the long-term movement of subversion of the dominant power structures. It is this everyday reality of these hidden transcripts that gives birth to and sustains the resistance movement.5
As they say later,
If the hidden transcript gives birth to the implicit criticism of dominant groups, everyday forms of resistance movement emerge among leaders and participants. When they are offstage, the resistant subordinate groups say what they think about the ruling authorities and vent their feelings with each other. When the times are right and safe, their off-stage resistance becomes onstage.6
But this is confusing in its NT application. Is not Paul’s letter to the Romans something that is “offstage” in that it is not addressed or aimed at the general public? Is not the point of the hidden transcript that such a context is where matters could be stated otherwise? If the letter is supposed to be part of the public transcript where a kind of rhetorical disguise would be necessary to thwart surveillance, why is the text itself (in this article and elsewhere among NT scholars who favor the application of the concept) spoken of as a hidden transcript? Why is there never the turn for Paul that they indicate happens between public and hidden transcripts? Why do the transcripts of Paul and the other NT authors need to be hidden to the point that what they really mean or really want to say must be expressed through ironic, encoded, or obscured language? Scholars do offer answers to such questions, but they are based on assumptions that are not sufficiently justified by reference to the historical context of the NT. From here, I will be drawing from and interacting with the work of Laura Robinson, who I think has articulated this problem exceptionally well with a focus on Paul.7
Was Rome a Surveillance State?
After noting how scholars have treated Paul’s texts as if he is trying to prevent himself from speaking too openly, she summarizes the issue as, “Paul would prefer to speak plainly about the abuses of the Empire but cannot do so, lest he invite official sanction from the government. Thus, he must conceal his discontent in allusion and subtext. But is this actually the case? Did Paul need to worry about his words being used against him in court? If not, the hunt for hidden meanings in Paul’s letters may be misguided.”8 After all, we have noted that it is crucial to the notion of hidden transcripts and their implementation that we look for elements of disguise by the subordinates and surveillance by the dominates. But she argues quite strongly in this article:
scholars have yet to find solid historical evidence that the first-century Roman world was the kind of environment where a private citizen such as Paul would be at risk for the surveillance and prosecution of this speech. That Rome would or would not seek out and punish its critics has been asserted by scholars on both sides of the debate. However, a deep dive into the historical evidence about treason law and evidence-gathering in antiquity has largely remained undone.9
Indeed, the supposed impetus for needing to speak in such coded fashion that is nevertheless more obvious to scholars writing twenty centuries later than the prying eyes of the powers that be is never established with clarity. The degree of surveillance that would have been necessary is not shown to be in place. Readers today can easily imagine a surveillance state (and/or what are supposed to be private companies that nevertheless operate in conjunction with the state) that combs through whatever you say publicly, surveils what is supposed to be private correspondence, or employs various censorious technologies. But is it reasonable to retroject such a notion of a surveillance state to an era approximately 2,000 years ago that lacked such technology or massive bureaucracy? Sure, Rome had plenty of administrators, but their system was nothing on the level of the communist bureaucracies of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries (as Robinson herself notes),10 or even America’s own bloated bureaucracy. Even apocalyptic texts like Revelation—which are supposed to be examples of coded language to evade censorship, censure, or other reprisals from the regime—do not help the case. The genre has certain conventions that apply regardless of who is in power, who is the target for criticism, and what the situation is. If the point of symbolic reference was to disguise some point or the targeting of some entity, that would seem to be utterly defeated by using symbols that outsiders would readily understand like the seven heads of the beast in Rev 17 being seven hills/mountains. What use would be a code that is so easily cracked?
Policing Speech in Roman Times
None of this is to say that the Roman authorities were unconcerned with policing speech. Robinson demonstrates that they certainly did police speech. But the main established categories of policed speech—defamation/libel and treason (crimen maiestatis)—are not applicable to Paul or any of the other writers of the NT. The latter could be a vague category, and some emperors are noted for how broadly they applied it. This does not really help the counter-imperial case, though, as Robinson observes:
even under the most paranoid of emperors, the evidence does not indicate that most Romans went around terrified that they might be seen showing treasonous disrespect to the state. When we read reports of Romans facing death or exile in widespread treason charges, they are virtually always aristocrats. Of course, our sources are most interested in aristocrats, but these are also the kinds of Romans whose attitudes towards the emperor could destabilise his reign. It matters much more if a senator despises the emperor than if his baker does. Furthermore, most treason trials in Paul’s era that we read about are the products of political intrigue – lower-born individuals with political aspirations betraying their superiors to gain their status. It is hard to see how such dealings and backbitings would have affected the unconnected underclass, of which most Christians were a part. If treason trials were primarily a way for politicians to get rid of rivals, and these trials did include accusations surrounding political speech, this suggests … that policing speech was not an end in itself. Policing speech was a good way for powerful Romans to get rid of other powerful Romans, but these Romans were probably less interested in attacking peasants who were simply dissatisfied with the status quo.11
Indeed, Paul’s declarations that scholars attempt to characterize as politically subversive are no worse from the Roman administrative perspective than what Jews before him had said, particularly in the critiques of idolatry or denying that the traditional gods are gods at all. And yet their beliefs and practices were tolerated and they were not under a constant state of persecution whenever they said these things gentiles did not like. When Jews were persecuted in a targeted fashion (and this on a local basis), it was not clearly or directly instigated by refusal to worship the emperor. Everyone knew this about them, and it was considered acceptable in the first century for them to sacrifice on the emperor’s behalf rather than sacrificing to him, as in the imperial cult. The Jews had even said that YHWH is Lord (κύριος), and many hoped for his kingdom to come, but they did not face reprisals for being seditious simply for declaring such beliefs. Even with reports of Christian persecution by Roman officials, we see a similar notion prevail among the Christians that the authorities may be given due honor, but they ought not to force them to worship Caesar or commit other such acts (Martyrdom of Polycarp 8–10; Pseudo-Ignatius, Ant. 11; Irenaeus, Haer. 3.8.1; Tertullian, Apol. 24; 30; 32–34; Spect. 15; 19; Nat. 17; Scorp. 14).12
Is the Declaration “Jesus Is Lord” Subversive? Then Why Was It Not Hidden?
As it is, scholars tend to overstate the perceived political subversiveness of the central Christian proclamation. As an example, Brian J. Walsh and Sylvia C. Keesmaat write in their Colossians Remixed, “Proclaiming a lord other than Caesar could result in immediate imprisonment and a closer view of the imperial games than anyone would want—not as a spectator but as a participant on the losing side.”13 This is a curious claim considering that throughout the NT, where we are supposed to be finding what is hidden from public, Jesus is proclaimed as Lord hundreds of times, which is the same as what we see in public proclamation from the beginning of the Church. As Robinson writes,
If Wright is correct that the ‘echo’ of imperial propaganda is so strong that the claim ‘Jesus is Lord’ declares that ‘Caesar is not’, then Paul’s letters already contain a bare-faced threat to Rome. Why would we need to search further for hidden criticism when Paul has already courted a death sentence and proclaimed a king besides Caesar? We are left with two options. Either Paul’s coded subversion of the Roman government was so subtle that Romans would not hear it (in which case, it would be useless as a code for Roman Christians) or Paul was capable of drawing metaphorical language from the political sphere without actually attacking it. The latter solution seems likely.14
In Revelation, which is supposed to be heavily coded in its counter-imperial message, John proclaims this “other Lord” in rather “uncoded” language many times over (1:8; 4:8, 11; 7:14; 11:4, 8, 15, 17; 14:13; 15:3–4 ; 16:7; 17:14; 18:8; 19:6, 16; 21:22; 22:5–6, 20–21). There are also plenty of times in Acts when the apostles proclaim this other Lord without thereby being arrested. On the occasions they are imprisoned, it is because they are treated as troublemakers due to their public disputations, usually (but not always) with non-Christian Jews, or to show favor to the opponents of the proclaimers.
On the other hand, one also wonders how “immediate imprisonment” would have been accomplished for Paul for what he wrote in his letters. Take Romans for example. Paul probably wrote this letter from Corinth, which is hundreds of miles away from Rome. The closest he could have come to being subject to immediate imprisonment for calling Jesus Lord is not only if this proclamation was necessarily considered treasonous, but also if the relevant authorities in Corinth read this letter and took action. That would imply an administrative apparatus where either the Roman authorities controlled all the mail and read everything before it was sent out (in a fashion similar to modern warfare scenarios with soldiers writing from the front), which is obviously not true (since this letter was sent with Phoebe and his other letters were sent with others of his associates), or the Roman soldiers would have been stationed to intercept letters to read them. It should go without saying that this would be considered a huge waste of time for the administrators. This does not mean that no one’s letters were intercepted, but those exceptions were, once again, letters of politically powerful people. Robinson notes some examples from Cicero and Sallust and observes, “Paul never expresses any anxiety that his letters might not arrive at their destination – a concern that Cicero frequently voices. Sending out slaves or soldiers who intercept a specific envoy would have been a deliberate, pre-planned act. In an era where policing in the provinces was a scattershot project run by illiterate people, there was no surveillance dragnet that Paul’s letters could be caught in.”15 As such, Paul could have hardly been at risk for “immediate” imprisonment for what he wrote in his letters.
The only other way this could have worked is if a warrant was put out for Paul’s arrest after the letter was read in the assembly of Christians. But this could hardly have led to immediate arrest, as the word would take a long time to travel the hundreds of miles to Corinth, and Paul could well be out of town by then. In any case, though, there was also not a surveillance network set up to sort through letters being received in Rome, nor were the Romans keeping an eye on Christian gatherings to watch for sedition.
At worst, a delator, one of what could be called “the snitch class,” could overhear what was said and try to alert the authorities. Delatores were not formal agents of the Roman Empire, but they could be informal denouncers who were of good social standing and, at this time, relied on the promise of reward for their own advancement. They could accrue honor, appointments, or be compensated financially out of the property of those they denounced. But a charge that would not stick or would otherwise be perceived to waste the time of the administration could create legal trouble for the delator as well. By this logic, Paul would not be an ideal target, having little to his name. Paul’s enemies amidst the assemblies he wrote to were others who identified as followers of Jesus. The Jewish opponents in Acts were acting on public proclamations and actions, not on what was said to assemblies of Christians when letters were read. But again, this is all assuming that what he said in Romans or his other letters could qualify as treasonous.
In any case, as Acts attests and as Paul references, he was imprisoned on occasion. But this is never linked to political declarations. As Robinson summarizes:
If we look at our earliest source for Paul’s legal trouble, Acts, it seems that local officials did not need to know much about what Paul taught in order to find him dangerous. Paul’s high-conflict relationship with other Christians, his complicated status in non-Christian synagogues and his mission to bring pagans into monolatrous worship of Israel’s God made him a troubling figure already. Paul did not need to be found denouncing the emperor to end up in prison. His conflict with virtually every existing social group outside his own churches was a problem already. Paul was a frequent recipient of synagogue discipline. He disturbed the peace enough to earn corporal punishment. He made a habit of convincing pagans to abandon their religion and follow foreign gods. Wherever he went, there were riots. When placed in this context, Paul’s eventual execution is not a mystery that needs to be explained with anti-imperial codes. Paul was a habitual, highly visible troublemaker, and his letters would not need to be ‘decoded’ to prove that.16
Why Didn’t Paul Say What Scholars Think He Should Have?
Finally, there has not been a sufficiently justified motive for Paul’s obscuring of his actual criticism beyond the assumptions of the intercourse of disguise and surveillance that come along with the idea of the hidden transcript. While one might posit that this could be due to Paul not wanting to cause trouble with what would have been strident political language—so as to either turn people away or inspire insurrection in others—Robinson responds that a potential occasion for insurrection is not a time to be ambivalent:
‘Caesar is not God, but don’t revolt and don’t kill anyone’ is an unobjectionable statement for a Jewish man, and also hard to misconstrue from a reader’s perspective. If this is all Paul wished to to [sic.] say, he could – and in the plainest reading of Paul’s letters, he did. But even more than this: whatever the motive might be, we are still trapped in the cycle of trying to tease out what Paul would have said if his circumstances were different.17
In short, we are without good reason to think that Paul needed to engage in the disguise of the public transcript that is different from the hidden transcript. The surveillance that is presupposed in the invocation of the hidden transcript is not in place for Paul as a letter writer. Nor is it clear that what he had to say in proclamation or in writing would be in violation of policies concerning what constituted forms of policed speech. The same applies to other writers of the NT as well. If there is validity in the claims of counter-imperial readings of the NT, it will not be found in the hidden transcript.
James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990). The influence is especially pronounced in the works written and edited by Richard A. Horsley.
Ibid., 3.
Ibid., xii.
Ibid., 4–5.
David Thang Moe and James C. Scott, “Reading Romans 13:1–7 as a Hidden Transcript of Public Theology: A Dialogue Between James C. Scott and Anti-coup Protesters in Myanmar,” IJPT 17 (2023): 233.
Ibid., 238.
Laura Robinson, “Hidden Transcripts? The Supposedly Self-Censoring Paul and Rome as Surveillance State in Modern Pauline Scholarship,” NTS 67 (2021): 55–72.
Ibid., 56.
Ibid., 57.
Ibid., 60.
Ibid., 64–65.
Origen said in Comm. Matt. 13.10 that the miracle of the coin in the fish’s mouth in Matt 17 happened so that Christ, the image of God, may never possess a coin with the image of Caesar.
Brian J. Walsh and Sylvia C. Keesmaat, Colossians Remixed: Subverting the Empire (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2004), 54.
Robinson, “Hidden Transcripts,” 66.
Ibid., 68.
Ibid., 69–70.
Ibid., 71.