Death to Tyrants! (10 page)

The amnesty oath was thus functionally similar to the oath of Demophantos. Both represent an attempt to control sparks and bandwagons in order to defend the democracy. The Athenians swore the oath of Demophantos in order to increase the likelihood that someone would go first and initiate a revolutionary bandwagon. They swore the amnesty oath in order to prevent someone from going first and initiating a stasis bandwagon. They are two sides of the same coin, both working to defend and preserve the democracy.

The similarity of both means and ends between the amnesty oath and the oath of Demophantos suggests that—in the minds of the Athenians, at any rate—the successful response against the Thirty should be attributed in part to the oath of Demophantos. After the fall of the regime in 403, the Athenians must have concluded that the oath of Demophantos had been shown to be an effective tool, and they decided to use the tool once again in the amnesty oath to achieve a very similar end. If the goal of the oath of Demophantos was to facilitate democratic efforts to mobilize in response to organized attempts to overthrow the democracy, the conclusion that the oath had actually worked must have been based on the conviction that it did, if fact, facilitate mobilization. Since the only such mobilization that postdated the oath of Demophantos and antedated the amnesty oath was that conducted against the Thirty, the conclusion is clear: Athenian democrats saw a causal connection between the swearing of the oath of Demophantos and the mobilized response to the Thirty.

Table 1.1.
The Law of Eukrates and the Decree of Demophantos

A final point in support of this view of the oath is that the next time the Athenians feared an attempt to overthrow the democracy they passed a law that virtually quoted the language concerning tyranny contained in the oath of Demophantos. This was the law of Eukrates, dating to the spring of 336, when democrats feared a pro-Macedonian domestic coup. I will provide a full analysis of that law in
chapter 3
. So all I demonstrate here is that it does, in fact, incorporate the important language found in the oath and decree of Demophantos.
⁷¹
Table 1.1
, based on that crafted by Martin Ostwald in his classic article on Athenian anti-tyranny legislation, makes the case most efficiently.
⁷²
In the right-hand column, (a) refers to language found in the rule proper, (b) refers to the oath.

The verbal echoes make it clear that the provisions concerning tyranny in the law of Eukrates should be interpreted as a reaffirmation or a reminder to potential revolutionaries of the decree and the oath of Demophantos. Such a reaffirmation was almost certainly predicated on the widespread consensus that the earlier oath had worked, and indeed there is other evidence (Dem. 20.159–162; Lykourg.,
Leok
. 124–27) that fourth-century Athenians thought highly of its effectiveness in generating mass action in defense of the democracy.
Since, as noted above, the only such action that postdated the decree of Demophantos was that against the Thirty, one should again conclude that Athenian democrats causally connected the swearing of the oath with the success of the response to the Thirty.
⁷³

The natural conclusion of the arguments presented above is that the successful democratic response against the Thirty should be attributed, at least in part, to the fact that all Athenians swore the oath of Demophantos. I have shown, first, that the Athenian democrats attributed the fall of the Thirty to an act of tyrannicide; second, that very soon after the successful mobilization against the Thirty, they swore another public oath (the amnesty oath), the function of which was complementary to that of the oath of Demophantos; and third, that the next time the Athenians feared an oligarchic attempt to overthrow the democracy, they promulgated a law that virtually quoted the anti-tyranny language contained in the oath of Demophantos. These three points might not be conclusive individually, but their cumulative weight seems to validate the thesis.

Conclusion

The viability of democratic governance in a Greek polis during the Classical period depended on it supporters' ability to solve a revolutionary coordination problem. If the supporters were able to solve that problem, they could capitalize on their numerical superiority and respond to a successful coup or, better still, prevent a coup from succeeding in the first place. Should the democrats be unable to coordinate in defense of their regime, however, their superior numbers would be meaningless and the anti-democrats would quickly dominate the polis. A fundamental question for historians of ancient Greek democracy should thus be, how did the citizens of the various democratically governed poleis solve, or attempt to solve, the revolutionary coordination problem?

In this chapter, I have attempted to demonstrate that Athenian democrats in the late fifth century were able to solve the problem in large part because of the fact that all Athenians swore the oath of Demophantos. The public performance of that oath accomplished two ends. First, it generated common knowledge of credible commitment to defend the democracy. Individual democrats were thus willing to oppose an anti-democratic coup earlier than
otherwise would have been the case, for they believed that other democrats would follow them. Second, the oath gave an incentive to particularly brave individuals to take the all-important first step in defense of the democracy—to “kill a tyrant” and thus initiate a revolutionary bandwagon. The oath directly contributed to the successful mobilization against the Thirty: Thrasyboulos and his men were confident enough to go first, and other individuals were subsequently confident enough to follow them. As a result, the democrats were able to capitalize on their numerical superiority and reclaim control of the polis.

This analysis suggests that the remarkable stability of the fourth-century Athenian democracy should ultimately be attributed to the fact that all Athenians swore the oath of Demophantos, and to the successful mobilization against the Thirty Tyrants that followed. After those events, anti-democrats would have known that, should they stage a coup, democrats would in fact be able to mobilize en masse in defense of their
politeia
; and since the number who favored democracy was greater than the number who opposed it, the former would almost certainly prevail. Thus anti-democrats were deterred from staging further coups.
⁷⁴
This strategic dynamic goes a long way toward accounting for the persistence of democracy in fourth-century Athens.
⁷⁵

1
The oligarchs' conspiracy: Lys. 12.43–44. The oligarchs' attempt to make Athens's
politeia
similar to Sparta's: Krentz (1982: 57–68).

2
The assembly was compelled to vote to change the
politeia
:
Ath
.
Pol
. 34.3; Lys. 12.75. Specifically, the assembly ratified the decree of Drakontides (Xen.
Hell
. 2.3.2, 2.3.11; Lys. 12.73; Diod. Sic. 14.3.5). There is some controversy over the content of that decree. But it almost certainly called for the selection of thirty men both to craft new laws and to act as a provisional government until a new, permanent constitution was established. On the decree of Drakontides, see Rhodes (1993: 434–35); Ostwald (1986: 476–78); Krentz (1982: 50).

3
The ancient sources do not agree on the number of men who accompanied Thrasyboulos on his march from Thebes. Numbers range from “not more than 50” (Nep.
Thr
. 2.1) to 70 (Xen.
Hell
. 2.4.2). The other ancient sources (conveniently collected in Krentz [1982: 70–72n4]) are [Arist.]
Rhet. ad Al
. 8 (50 men); Aristid.
Or
. 1.254 Lenz-Behr (just over 50 men) and 43.556 Dindorf (70 men); Paus. 1.29.3 (60 men); Plut.
Mor
. 345d (70 men). Krentz believes that Thrasyboulos left Thebes with 30 men. For a detailed account of the life of Thrasyboulos and his role in Athenian politics, see Buck (1998).

4
The rebels' numbers increasing to 700 men: Xen.
Hell
. 2.4.5; to 1,000 men: Xen.
Hell
. 2.4.10; to well over 1,200 men: Diod. Sic. 14.33.1. The political status of the men at Phyle is a vexed question. For a cogent and persuasive discussion, see Taylor (2002b). Taylor argues that about 60 percent of the men besieged at Phyle were citizens and that about 90 percent of the men at Phyle at the time of the march to the Piraeus were citizens. She accepts important conclusions reached by Raubitschek (1941) and refutes Krentz's conclusion (1982: 83–84) that the vast majority of the men first at Phyle were not Athenian citizens.

5
The concept of the revolutionary bandwagon (a term coined by Kuran [1991: 20]) is discussed in detail below, in the section titled “Mobilization.”

6
Kuran (1989 and 1991).

7
It is to be noted that the following analysis treats Thucydides's narrative of the coup of the Four Hundred as an acceptably accurate description of actual events. Such an approach might be defended on two complementary grounds: the events described are quite plausible (indeed, as discussed below, they support modern social scientific theory), and no extant source contradicts Thucydides's account. The author of the
Ath
.
Pol
., which preserves the only other surviving narrative of the coup, complements Thucydides by focusing virtually exclusively on formal, constitutional arrangements. It is certainly possible, of course, that Thucydides took great historiographic liberty in his account of the coup. But the burden of proof must be on those who come to such a conclusion.

8
The Athenians began to station their naval forces on Samos in the summer of 412 (Thuc. 8.16.1). By winter, there were seventy-four Athenian ships stationed there (Thuc. 8.16.1, 30.2; see Gomme, Andrewes, and Dover [1981: 28–29, 73]). The Athenians stationed their navy on Samos in order to quash revolts in Chios, Miletos, Klazomenai, and Lesbos.

9
As Gomme, Andrewes, and Dover argue (1981: 126), this embassy was not empowered to promise a constitutional change in Athens.

10
On the
xynomosiai
, see Gomme, Andrewes, and Dover (1981: 128–31); Rhodes (2007: 17–19).

11
The sequence of events that led to and immediately followed the formal overthrow of the Athenian democracy is notoriously difficult to recreate, and the historicity of some events is uncertain. Thucydides and the
Ath
.
Pol
., the two major sources, are difficult to reconcile; indeed, they are virtually impossible to reconcile on the existence (or nonexistence) of the Five Thousand during the rule of the Four Hundred. For the problems, see Rhodes (1993: 362–415) and Gomme, Andrewes, and Dover (1981: 184–256). For a detailed diachronic narrative with commentary, see Ostwald (1986: 337–411) and Shear (2011: 22–51).

12
On coordination problems in general, see Chwe (2001: 11–13 and passim) and Ober (2008: 168–210).

13
One might be skeptical initially about the applicability of a theory used to analyze modern nation-states to the study of democratic Athens. Athens was certainly a smaller and more traditional state, but while the Athenians may not have encountered the difficulties of information management that confront modern states, Thucydides (8.66.3) clearly concluded that they did have analogous problems (“owing to the size of the city and their lack of knowledge of one another”). It is thus reasonable to suspect—although it certainly must be demonstrated—that various Athenian institutions and practices may be analyzed profitably in light of modern theories that explore information exchange. Josiah Ober's most recent book (2008) demonstrates the potential benefits of such an approach.

14
Kuran (1991: 16–17).

15
Of course, not all unpopular regimes will necessarily follow this general rule. A regime might tolerate a small percentage of the population engaging in public dissent, for example, and clamp down only when that percentage increases beyond a certain threshold. But, generally speaking, the nature of a regime's response to public dissent is contingent on the strength of the dissent movement.

16
Kuran (1991: 17–19).

17
Kuran (1991: 19–25).

18
Kuran uses units of ten in his thresholds. Thus Kuran would write the threshold sequence given above as {10, 10, 20, 30, 30, 40, 50, 60, 80, 100}. He does so because, at times, he considers each of the numbers as representing 10 percent of the population, while at other times as representing a single person in a state with a population of ten. The analysis is the same. But, for simplicity, I use single numerals.

19
Different individuals will have higher or lower thresholds depending on a variety of factors. But it ultimately comes down, one would think, to a combination of personality type and experience.

20
According to Kuran (1991: 20n34), the term “pluralistic ignorance” was first used in print by Richard Schanck (1932: 101).

21
For a very different interpretation of the
dēmos
's response to the coup of the Four Hundred, see Taylor (2002a). In that article, Taylor accuses the
dēmos
of cowardice and lack of commitment to the democracy, and of being more interested in money. In support of this view, she rather aggressively reads between the lines of Thucydides's account of the coup. Thucydides's direct statement (8.68.4), for example, that “it was difficult … to deprive of their liberty the Athenian people” rises, in Taylor's view (p. 108), “to the pitch of sarcasm.” To validate her thesis on the
dēmos
's complicity in the overthrow of the democracy, she analyzes five significant moments when Athenian democrats could have objected to the coup, but did not: at Samos, during Peisandros's address to the Athenian assembly, while the conspirators implemented their strategy of intimidation and disinformation (8.66), the assembly meeting at Kolonos, and the takeover of the
boulē
. At each of these moments, she concludes that the democrats were either complacent or cowardly.