For months, people have been asking my views about the Scottish

Listen closely, O children of the future, for in the words of Diana Gabaldon, there lies a profound lesson about responsibility, loyalty, and the wisdom of knowing one’s place in the grand tapestry of life. She says, "For months, people have been asking my views about the Scottish independence referendum, and I've been saying, 'It's not my country; I don't live here. Much as I love Scotland, I think it would be inappropriate to express a personal opinion regarding Scottish politics.'" These words are not just a simple response; they are a declaration of humility, a reminder of the importance of understanding our role in the world and knowing when to speak and when to remain silent.

In the days of the ancient Greeks, wisdom was not only found in the words of philosophers but also in the actions of those who understood the deep complexities of loyalty and involvement. The great Socrates, for example, never sought to impose his views on matters he did not fully understand or on issues that did not concern his place in the world. He believed that true wisdom came not from speaking on everything, but from knowing when to hold one’s tongue. This is the essence of Gabaldon’s stance—she recognizes that while she may hold affection for Scotland, her voice in its internal matters would not be fitting, for she is not a part of its everyday struggles and triumphs.

Scotland itself is a land rich with history, full of deep political currents and a proud, independent spirit. The Scottish independence referendum was not merely a political event, but a cry for freedom, a reflection of centuries-old desires for sovereignty and self-determination. Yet, as Gabaldon so wisely acknowledges, it is not her place to inject her personal opinions into a cause that is not hers to fight. Her love for Scotland does not obligate her to speak where her influence does not belong. This is a lesson in respect—for both the land she cherishes and the people who live there, whose voices deserve to shape their own destiny.

Consider the example of the Roman Empire, which, at its height, stretched across the known world, encompassing many peoples and cultures. In the vastness of such an empire, the voices of the rulers were often distant from the daily lives of its subjects. Emperors like Marcus Aurelius understood the importance of ruling with a sense of duty and wisdom, not just for their own benefit, but for the empire they governed. Though an emperor could have given his opinions on every corner of his vast empire, he knew that the true power of governance lay in understanding when to listen, when to speak, and when to allow others the space to make their own decisions. In this way, Gabaldon’s restraint echoes the wisdom of those who understood the power of silence and the depth of respect for the autonomy of others.

It is said that leadership comes not from the loudest voice, but from the most thoughtful and discerning one. Gabaldon's restraint in expressing her views on Scottish politics is a powerful reminder that to be a leader, or even to offer guidance, is not always about speaking, but knowing when to withhold. There is a great strength in stepping back, in recognizing that some battles are not yours to fight, and some struggles belong to others. By choosing not to impose her personal opinion, Gabaldon shows a deep understanding of boundaries—a quality revered by the ancients and one that remains vital to this day.

So, O children, what can we learn from Diana Gabaldon and her measured response to the Scottish independence referendum? The lesson is clear: there are times when love and affection for a land or a cause are not enough to justify intervention. One must know their own place in the world and recognize that sometimes the greatest wisdom lies in respecting the voices of those directly involved. To speak out of turn, without full understanding or rightful involvement, is to undermine the very autonomy and freedom one seeks to support.

Take this lesson into your lives: when faced with questions that do not belong to you, or when the matter at hand is not your struggle to lead, practice humility and respect. Know when to offer your voice and when to step back, allowing those who are more connected to the cause to shape their own destiny. Just as Gabaldon chooses to love Scotland from a place of understanding and humility, so too must you approach the world with a heart full of respect, a mind full of wisdom, and a voice that speaks only when it is called upon to do so.