The powerful do not speak, because speaking means opening yourself up and putting yourself on the same level as the person you are speaking to. A true dialogue – the idea of the dialogue – presupposes complete equality. In reality, conversations, particularly short ones, often reflect social relations. One person may express superiority in his delivery, while the other person may talk back in a manner that either accepts or rejects that claimed superiority. A supplicant will approach his patron with deference in the hope of obtaining his request, and the patron may answer in a manner that enhances his reputation for magnanimity, as he wrestles between his need not to give too much away and his need to feel the power of his generosity. Ultimately, you arrive at the command, where one person asserts his complete control over the other, and expects little more than a “yes, sir” in response. But real sustained conversation requires equality, and that is where we express our characters most fully and accept the humanity of others. Speaking is therefore both a subversive act and a collective means of testing and developing our thoughts. The further up the social hierarchy a person is, the fewer the people with whom he can engage in dialogue without subverting his own position. This factor, which could be defined as the isolation of power, is a product of the need for the powerful to present an image that reflects and justifies the power they hold. If Bakhtin was right in claiming that carnival was a social reversal in which the “barriers of caste, property, profession and age” were temporarily removed, then it must have been as much of a release for the powerful as it was for the powerless.