Euro-sceptics should not gloat over the eurozone crisis – we’ll feel the pinch too, says Boris Johnson.
Talking yesterday to my old friend and colleague Phil Johnston, who happened to be editing this page, I was reminded how right we were, all those years ago, about the euro. In 1990, he and I were sent by this newspaper to cover the Rome summit – the one where European leaders ruthlessly ambushed Margaret Thatcher and tried to get her to agree to what was then called the Economic and Monetary Union of Europe.
It was a blood-curdling scene. Thatch was backed into a corner – a minority of one – as they all piled into her, Kohl, Mitterrand, Andreotti, Delors. Come on, they said, let’s create a single currency! Let’s scrap the franc and the Deutsche Mark, and let’s scrap the pound while we’re at it. No, said Thatch.
Boris Johnson has spoken of the contribution a knowledge of the classics can make to understanding our own times. In the modern political world — as in the ancient — the same theme is played out again and again … with the same characters : political leaders that let power go to their heads and then pay the price (although that price is oft paid in larger measure by those they lead). It’s not all bad news, however, for Greek history is also full of inspirational stories.
Over the next few weeks we shall post a series of small articles on the ancient Greek world, a phase of human history from which we can still learn.
We do not know what brought about the collapse of the Greek civilization known as the Mycenaean Palace culture in the late Bronze Age (ca. 1200 b.c.) The written record we have of that civilization consists almost entirely of accounting documents, baked clay tablets, in the Linear-B script.
There follows a period (of which our knowledge is limited to myth) usually referred to as the Dark Age, lasting till the adoption by the Greeks of an alphabet at some time in the eighth century. From then to the start of the Classical period we know as the Archaic Period, when the social structure was an aristocratic monarchy.
* * *
From monarchy to tyranny
Following the fall of the last sovereign king of the Athenians (Codrus), the aristocrats (known as Eupatrids (of good birth) abolished the ruling status of basileus (king) and vested the equivalent power in, at first, three officials, known collectively as the archontes (archons) : a polemarch (pronounced ‘Polla-mark’ – war-lord), a king (whose duties now pertained mainly to religious matters, i.e. pacifying the gods) and the archon himself. This last was the civic leader, equivalent to an executive president of to-day.
The noble families now exercised a measure of control over the archonship until in the early-seventh century a major change to the appointment meant that it became an annual office ; henceforth the Athenians named each year after its archon.
Noble families vied with one another in what to-day we should describe as vulgar ostentation ; their differing views on matters social and political would lead to disorder, even brawling in the streets.
This combination of faction and social competition eventually led to tyranny — the Greek word tyrannos is derived from an Asian one referring to a usurper — in which one nobleman, possibly a military leader, would persuade the now well armed hoplite population to support him as ruler. ‘In short, tyrants helped to stop spiralling ambition and faction by an ultimate act of ambitious faction : their own coup.’ (Further reading: The Classical World, Lane Fox)
It should not be assumed that tyrannical rule was autocratic, at least not at first : a tyrant would take over to establish eunomia (good order), something achieved by laying down and enforcing laws that, for whatever reason, would be observed.
Tyrants, however, saw their positions as heritable ; inevitably their heirs were not as good as they and the subject populace soon became even more disgruntled than under the previous, aristocratic, régime.
* * *
In a simplified way we might say that the period of the tyrants was followed by the period of the law-givers. Toward the end of the seventh century factional fighting in Athens, following an unsuccessful coup, led to the introduction by the nobleman Draco of written laws : they were harsh — hence our word ‘draconian’ — but fair and, because displayed for all to see, certain. (Those, the majority, that could not read would have been able to find others to read to them.)
Early in the sixth century, after ‘consulting the people’, Solon — the man now famous for having given Athens her first ‘constitution’ and one of the contenders for the title ‘Father of Democracy’ — handed down a far more detailed set of regulations governing most of civic life.
Under Solon wealth, rather than birth, decided eligibility for government office : a timocracy. He divided the Attic population in to four property classes, according to their income (actually to how much they might produce) : the pentacosiomedimni, hippeis, zeugitae and thetes.
with the name and patronymic (indicating his father) of the nominee,
Cimon, son of Miltiades
* * *
To-day the term ‘ostracism’ is often used loosely to allude to exclusion from a social group : what school-children might call ‘sending some-one to Coventry’ ; it is, however, a specific procedure with origin in ancient Athens.
Ostracism was aimed at curbing the ambitions of any-one that might aspire to the seizure of power in Athens. Although traditionally described as one of the reforms of Cleisthenes, ca. 508 (unless otherwise stated or implied by the context, all dates are b.c.), it was not used till 487 and many scholars now doubt this ascription ; it fell in to disuse around 417.
It was a process whereby, once a year, one Athenian — usually a politician or a general — might be banished from Attica for ten years (but without loss of property).
First, at a time we’d think of as late January, the Assembly would be asked whether it would hold an ostracism in that year. If so, the vote itself would take place a month later, giving time for word to reach the demes — the rural communities around Attica — that an ostracism was to be held and for citizens to arrange to be there for the vote, a quorum being 6,000.
A citizen would write the name of him he would have ostracized on a sherd of pottery (ostrakon, plural ostraka) ; although the average Athenian would have been illiterate, he would have been able either to have another inscribe for him or to collect one of many ostraka that had been inscribed in advance, each in the name of a particular ‘candidate’. (Many surviving sherds are clearly crafted by few hands ; this should not be taken as a sign of corruption : literacy was rare and it was normal for people — likely hoping to promote a particular candidate’s ostracism — to prepare sherds for the use of any-one that might want — or be persuaded — to vote against him.)
When all the sherds had been collected and counted, he whose name had appeared on the most ostraka would be banished.
nominating Themistocles (son of Neocles)
* * *
Provides news, articles and photos by and about the politician, journalist and columnist Boris Johnson