POLI 472 CLASSICAL DEMOCRACY SIMULATIONS
In this simulation our aim is to make “democratic” arguments
about how to address a number of political situations.
For this exercise I want you to try to “think like an Athenian”
while weighing the question of how democratic ancient Athens
was. I will give you a number of simulation situations to consider.
We will start by tallying our assessments of (1) what you,
personally, think ought to be done, (2) what you think
“democracy” requires, and (3) what you think an Athenian would
decide. We will discuss the last of these, mustering as best we can
the relevant considerations and arguments, and we will repeat the
“Athenians” vote after our deliberations. (Hint: some of the more
important points that classes in the past have focused on are
highlighted in yellow)
The following serves as a contextualizing backdrop for our
debates:
Imagine you are in ancient Greece, and you are a citizen of Athens.
If you find it difficult to speak with eloquence and conviction
about matters of politics, remember that as an Athenian citizen
your education would have paled in comparison to that which the
average college student today has received. You should also
remember that the Greeks had far less to lose from political
decisions that might threaten their property and possessions.
It is therefore reasonable to assume that we moderns might be
more eloquent in our speech, and more committed to matters of
political principle, than were the Greeks. It is part of the aim of this
class to see whether that is the case, and why our understanding of
our identities as citizens has changed in the course of the
development of the civic tradition.
But for the moment we transport ourselves to a time the character
of which led Adam Ferguson to claim:
“Men are so far from valuing society on account of its mere
external conveniences, that they are commonly most attached
where those conveniences are least frequent, and are there most
faithful, where the tribute of their allegiance is paid in blood…
Hence the sanguine affection which every Greek bore to his
country, and hence the devoted patriotism of an early Roman.”
“Feeling” this way is perhaps more difficult than we might at first
imagine.
We must imagine houses without drains, beds without sheets or
springs, rooms as cold, or as hot, as the open air, only draftier;
meals that begin and end with a bland pudding, and cities that
could boast neither gentry nor millionaires. We must imagine
having to tell the time without watches, to cross rivers without
bridges, and seas without a compass, to fasten our clothes – or
rather, our two pieces of cloth – with two pins instead of rows of
buttons, to wear our shoes or sandals without stockings, to warm
ourselves over a pot of ashes, to judge open-air plays or lawsuits
on a cold winter’s morning, to study poetry, philosophy, and
literature without books, geography without maps, and politics
without newspapers.
We have to recognize that very few have much more wealth than
would allow them the freedom to be active in deciding, with
others, how they are to survive and prosper as a community. Many
have slaves who provide them with the time away from necessary
labor that makes political participation possible. Each needs the
others to keep domestic peace, and the slaves in obedience; there
are no police, and each individual is no more powerful than his
wiles, and the skill he has at hand to hand combat, or handling a
bow, sling, spear, broadsword, or dagger.
If any are richer than others, it is hardly the advantage we might
imagine. Wealth is typically vested in land; you cannot therefore
move your most valuable properties when they are threatened.
There are no banks to safeguard the meager accumulation of gold
or other precious materials some may possess, and there is no way
to lock up one’s goods against the thieves and robbers.
Wealth does not readily translate into influence. It is virtually
impossible to bribe others with money, unless it is the poorest
citizens. And even then bribes won’t go very far. The only real and
dependable power is the power of your reputation.
This is a society of peasants.
They need each other – and not just to keep domestic peace. The
relations their community has with neighboring communities are
not always amiable. Each community maintains its freedom only
by the strength of its members. If there is war – and there is always
war – individuals must purchase or make their own weapons and
armor, and they must carry it to the field of battle on their own
back. They must also live off the land – which means appropriating
the food stores of those communities through which they must
travel on the way to battle.
If you must go to war, you cannot afford to lose. There are no
“rules of engagement,” no Geneva Convention. You slaughter your
enemies, or they slaughter you. If you lose, you and every ablebodied citizen who is captured will likely be put to death –
especially if you display great ability and courage. Those who can
be coerced will be carted off as slaves, everyone else is killed. If
you manage to escape, you can be sure that your enemies will
destroy your crops and lay waste to every means of support you
may have.
Strength and intelligence – and the courage to use them -- is the
foundation of security. But courage as an individual is meaningless
unless your fellow citizens share your virtues. Your honor in the
eyes of your fellow citizens is your only meaningful source of
recognition and distinction. And your honor is worthless without
those others for whom it has meaning.
This is what it means to be a citizen, and everything that defines
who you are as a unique individual is part and parcel of the
political life of your community. Take that identity away, and your
uniqueness is meaningless. The history of these people does not
recall the greatness of rich men because they are rich, and the
names of talented craftsmen, or artists, or sculptors, or musicians
are remembered because they are citizens, not celebrities. It is
intellect, or valor, or the failures of achievement that are most
frequently recorded for posterity. It is these that make a polity
great or flawed; it is these that make it possible for the wealthy to
exist, for the artist to paint and sculpt, for the musician to compose,
and for the craftsman to excel in his trade.
The glory of all is the condition of glory for any. The freedom of
each requires the freedom of everyone. You are nothing without
us, we are everything that makes your existence meaningful.
Now imagine yourself in this context, think about how you might
respond, how a “democrat” might address the situations we shall
consider, what you think a society made up of people like this
might do, and make the case to the class.