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Leadership in Direct Democracy: The Classical Experience George Th. Mavrogordatos University of Athens ABSTRACT Despite the many lacunae in our knowledge, the experience of Athenian democracy over almost two centuries offers a vast amount of historical material on the issue of leadership, and may illuminate the failure to integrate the concept of leadership in at least some variants of democratic theory. There are contrasting views of Athens in this respect. According to the most popular view (largely shaped by Plutarch) the evolution of Athenian democracy is perceived as a succession of individual leaders and their deeds. At the other extreme, some scholars are wondering today who actually ran democratic Athens. For them, the answer is far from obvious. Athenian democracy was imbued with a deep-rooted suspicion of personal leadership, which was associated with the past experience of tyranny. Ostracism was only the most extreme measure to prevent its comeback. Several crucial questions of enduring relevance are raised by the Athenian experience. Is “leadership” compatible with selection by lot, or only with election to public office? And what about “informal” leadership, which does not require the holding of public office? How does leadership blend with citizen participation and deliberation? Despite their instinctive suspicion of leadership and their ingrained attachment to political equality, the Athenians needed generals to lead them in battle, and orators to lead them in discussion and decision-making. There may be important lessons to be drawn from the Athenian experience for any discussion of leadership in democratic theory. Paper presented to the Workshop "Political Leadership: A Missing Element in Democratic Theory", ECPR Joint Sessions, Helsinki, 7-12 May 2007 1 1. Introduction Our thinking about democracy is inevitably influenced, if not haunted, by the Athenian archetype. The word itself evokes its historical origin, and the cleverest alternatives, such as Robert Dahl’s “polyarchy” (Dahl 1971 and 1989), have failed to displace it. There is more than the word, however. To this day, Athenian democracy remains not only the earliest, but also the most important historical experience of direct democracy, insofar as the citizens’ assembly was the sovereign body of a major international power for almost two centuries. None of the subsequent historical experiences can compare in this respect (cf. Hansen 1999: 1-3). It is therefore surprising that contemporary theories of democracy have not shown more than a passing interest in classical Athens (e.g., Dryzek 2000: 2; Saward 2001). Politically correct but anachronistic objections related to slavery and the position of women may explain this lack of interest, at least in part. This is clearly not the place to examine them at length. Suffice it to point out that the overwhelming majority of Athenian citizens actually had to work for a living, contrary to the widespread misperception that they were exempt from this need, thanks to slavery. This was true only of the Spartan citizens, thanks to the conquered Helots, but Sparta never became a democracy. In other words, the causal link between slavery and Athenian democracy is not as straightforward as many assume, thereby dismissing or ignoring the latter. On the other hand, the exclusion of female citizens (astai) from political rights was largely derived from the prevailing ideology linking political rights to military service. Born in Ancient Greece, this conception has died out only recently. Despite the many lacunae in our knowledge, Athenian democracy offers a vast amount of historical material on the issue of leadership, and may illuminate the failure to integrate the concept of leadership in at least some variants of democratic theory. Several crucial questions of enduring relevance are raised by the Athenian experience. Is “leadership” compatible with selection by lot, or only with election to public office? And what about “informal” leadership, which does not require the holding of public office? How does leadership blend with citizen participation and deliberation? 2 2. Two Contrasting Images At the outset, one is confronted with an initial puzzle. When it comes to leadership, there are two sharply contrasting views of Athens. “Should someone unacquainted with the history of Athens in the fifth and fourth centuries B.C. select as his only source for the period the relevant biographies of Plutarch, he would come away from reading that author seriously misled. Preoccupied with the character of prominent figures, and devoid of any sustained interest in constitutional theory or practice, Plutarch presents a city which, whatever its formal system of administration, has surrendered its affairs to a series of great men” (Hamel 1998: 158, emphasis added). Without much thought, this image has often been extended to include lesser men. On the basis of Aristophanes alone (Knights 129-133), some have written of Eucrates as the first of the merchants “to control the state”, followed by Lysicles “as ruler of Athens” (West 1924: 131-2). At the other extreme, some scholars are wondering today who actually ran democratic Athens. For them, the answer is far from obvious, and eventually turns out to be negative: “the potential for anarchy was always there” and “no one man, however influential, was ever entirely in control” (Rhodes 2000: 475). In this context, “anarchy” is of course a misnomer: it merely means “lack of direction”. In another striking formulation, the problem is “explaining how a direct democracy could function without institutionalized leadership” (Ober 1989: 19, emphasis added). Max Weber has stressed that “it is necessary to distinguish the type of plebiscitary democracy from that which attempts to dispense with leadership altogether” (Weber 1978, 1: 269, emphasis added). Athenian democracy exemplifies the latter type, as a review of its institutions will show. 3 3. Leadership by Lot? Apart from the Assembly of the People (Ekklesia tou Demou), in which every adult male citizen was entitled to participate in person, all other public bodies and offices were filled by lot, with few exceptions (to be discussed later). The People´s Court (Heliaia) was composed of 6,000 jurors drawn annually by lot among citizens over thirty. Cases were tried by panels of varying size, drawn again by lot among the jurors who had shown up on that particular day. During the 4th century, the panels of lawmakers (nomothetai) were also drawn by lot from the pool of 6,000 jurors (Hansen 1999: 165-9). The Council (Boule) was similarly drawn annually by lot among citizens over thirty. It was composed of 500 members, 50 from each tribe, further apportioned among the 139 municipalities (demes). Each tribe´s councilors served as the Council´s executive committee (prytaneis) for a tenth of the year, in the order designated by lot. Each day, a different chairman (epistates ton prytaneon) was chosen by lot among them. In foreign relations, he was the equivalent of a head of state, receiving foreign messengers and envoys (Hansen 1999: 250, 265). Finally, there were as many as 600 other public officials selected annually by lot among citizens over thirty, beginning with the traditional nine archons (Hansen 1999: 232-40). After their term, these nine officials became life members of the Council of the Areopagus. An ancient body and a stronghold of aristocratic power, this council lost its earlier significance in 462, and remained mostly as a court for homicides. The impression of completely random selection needs to be corrected somewhat. There was a degree of self-selection, since lots were drawn in each case only among those actually volunteering. Normally, their number must have been much smaller than the eligible population. Filling the Council, in particular, probably proved difficult in the course of the 4th century. As a remedy, a citizen could serve as councilor twice, though not in consecutive years (Hansen 1999: 249; Rhodes 1972: 3). Otherwise, no public office could be held twice. 4 Moreover, collegiality further reduced the potential for individual influence. Most Athenian officials served on boards composed of several members (usually ten, to ensure representation of the ten tribes). Can one even speak of “leadership” under these conditions? The place to look is the Council, which was the actual center of government. It met every working day, while among its 500 members the 50 prytaneis were continuously on duty in shifts. Although it managed day-to-day affairs, including foreign relations, the Council had limited decision-making authority on its own, in secondary matters. Its most important function was to prepare the business of the Assembly, as its steering committee, and draft a proposal (probouleuma) on each item of the agenda. This agenda-setting function might indeed have provided opportunities for leadership were it not for the brevity of tenure. At most, a politician might succeed in getting selected for the Council in a particular year (Rhodes 1972: 3-4). But then politicians, like other citizens, anyway could obtain leave (or be invited) to address the Council and influence its decisions, without being members. In conception, the Council was a typical case of “descriptive representation” in which there is “no room for leadership” (Pitkin 1972: 90, emphasis added). A famous example may serve to illustrate and confirm this conclusion. In 406, Socrates happened to be a member of the Council and of the prytaneis at a crucial moment: the unlawful summary trial and execution of the generals after the naval battle of Arginusae. As Xenophon relates (Hellenica 1.7.15), Socrates was the only one among the presiding prytaneis who was not cowed by the menacing multitude in the Assembly, and insisted on respect for the law (in vain). In his subsequent trial (in 399), he reminded his judges of that incident as proof of his character, but also insisted that he had always opted to remain a private citizen and not meddle in politics (Plato´s Apologia 31D-32B; cf. Gorgias 473E, where Socrates emphatically states that he is no politician). In other words, even a strong stand by an individual prytanis in extraordinary circumstances would not qualify as “politics” (even less as “leadership”). 5 4. Leadership by Election But then, there was war. Despite their attachment to political equality, the citizen soldiers of Athens were not foolish enough to entrust their lives and the survival of their city-state to someone chosen by lot. The polemarch used to be the supreme commander of the Athenian army. The last time we hear of him is 490, when he played a critical role in the Battle of Marathon, alongside the ten generals. Beginning in 487, however, the polemarch was chosen annually by lot, like the other eight traditional archons, and became a civil magistrate, mostly concerned with resident aliens (metics). During the next Persian invasion in 480, he is not even mentioned. Ten generals (strategoi), one from each tribe, were first elected in 501, extending and completing the reforms of Cleisthenes in the military sphere (Fornara 1971). The ten artificial tribes among which he distributed the citizen population continued to be the basis of military organization thereafter. Apart from the board of ten generals, lesser military commanders were also elected annually (two to command the cavalry, usually deployed on the two wings, ten for the tribal infantry regiments, and ten for the tribal cavalry squadrons). Once other magistrates and especially the traditional nine archons began to be chosen by lot (always for a single term), the office of general assumed political importance far beyond the military sphere: it was not only elective, but also uniquely free of term limitations. A citizen could be elected and reelected general indefinitely. Pericles seems to have been reelected more or less continuously for almost twenty-five years (Develin 1989; Fornara 1971), while the record appears to be held by Phocion in the latter half of the 4th century. According to Plutarch, Phocion was elected general forty-five times, without ever attending the elections (Phocion 8.1). Under these conditions, the generalship was the only office appropriate for an aspiring political leader. A telling indication is the list of examples offered by Xenophon, to show how his beloved teacher Socrates served Athens by advising those wishing to serve it (Memorabilia 3.1.1-3.5.28). The list begins with an anonymous young man who desired to become general. After three more cases involving generals (and a 6 cavalry commander), the most striking example is the son of Pericles, urged by Socrates to become a general like his father. If political leaders would normally become generals in the 5th century (not the 4th), the converse was not necessarily true: many, if not most, generals were probably chosen for their military experience and ability, and kept to a strictly military role. Nevertheless, the generals are often referred to as the top officials, in charge of affairs of state as a whole. In any emergency, they and the prytaneis would be the first to be notified and take action. They were significantly housed in adjacent buildings. There was a time when classicists were writing freely about the annual election of generals as they would write about modern parties and elections (West 1924). In fact, we do not even know the exact procedure used (cf. Mitchell 2000; Piérart 1974; Staveley 1972: 87-8), except that voting was by show of hands (cheirotonia). There has long been an exaggerated image of the constitutional power of the generals in Athens, mostly inspired by the single case of Pericles and, on some issues, by a single passage of Thucydides. For example, we are told that, during the first Peloponnesian invasion of Attica in 431, Pericles did not summon the Assembly nor any other meeting (Thuc. 2.22.1). During the second invasion in 430, he did summon a meeting (of the Assembly?) “being still in office as general” (Thuc. 2.59.3). Was a general entitled on his own authority to summon the Assembly? Was he even entitled to postpone its meeting? There has been much debate about the meaning of these passages in constitutional terms (cf. Hansen 1987: 22; Hornblower 1991: 275, 331). The exaggerated image of the constitutional power of the generals in Athens has been corrected on several grounds (Hamel 1998). The Assembly maintained pervasive control of military operations, and the generals were bound by its instructions. Otherwise, they risked deposition and prosecution, perhaps even the death penalty. Moreover, collegiality further reduced the authority of any single general, since all ten were equals and were required to make decisions by majority vote. Unless an expedition was entrusted to a single general, the same rule applied on campaigns (cf. Thuc. 6.47-50). 7 Apart from the generals, other elective offices in Athens do not appear relevant to a discussion of leadership, with two major exceptions in the latter half of the 4th century, involving treasurers (cf. Hansen 1983b: 157). The first was the official in charge of the Theoric Fund, elected for a single term of four years. Eubulus held the office in 354-350, and then apparently guided his successor until 346. For these eight years, he supervised and restored state finances as a whole, and was responsible for a peaceful foreign policy (Sakellariou 1999: 270, 392-3). The second was the official in overall charge of state finances or “administration” (epi te dioikese), elected for four years without term limitation. This office was instituted after the disastrous defeat at the Battle of Chaeronea in 338, and was held by the Athenian Lycurgus for three terms, a total of twelve years. His achievements were similar to those of Eubulus (Sakellariou 1999: 270, 395). These institutional developments involved a radical break with the past in three respects: a single office, financial rather than military, and a longer term (four years), with eventually no limit on reelection. It is impossible to say whether these innovations would have permanently transformed the Athenian democracy, since it was abolished by the Macedonians in 322 (cf. Ober 1989: 102). In any case, they certainly throw a different light on its last thirty years. 8 5. Leadership by Persuasion As the foremost contemporary authority on Athenian democracy has put it: “In Athens, election was a condition only for becoming a strategos, whereas political leadership was open to any citizen who would address and could persuade the people” (Hansen 1983a: 35). Xenophon’s previously mentioned list of examples continues with a young man who was not yet twenty and started speaking to the Assembly “because he wanted to become leader of the city” (Mem. 3.6.1). Only Socrates was able to dissuade him from making a fool of himself. In typical Socratic fashion, he helped him realize the extent of his youthful ignorance. To become “leader” (prostates) of Athens, one had to dominate the Assembly as an orator. He could then “trample” on the Council and even subdue or “screw” the generals, as Aristophanes tells us (Knights 165, 355), aiming at the demagogue Cleon. This fits what Max Weber has to say about leadership in Athens: “The real political leader created by the fully developed Democracy in Periclean Athens, the demagogue, as a rule formally occupied the leading military position. In fact, however, his power rested not upon law or office, but entirely upon personal influence and the trust of the demos” (Weber 1978, 2: 1314). Weber may be using the term “demagogue” in a pejorative sense, and makes no distinction between Pericles and Cleon (Weber 1978, 2: 1130). The term, however, originally had a purely descriptive sense, meaning the one who leads or guides the People (demos). In Athens, one of the earlier concepts denoting political equality was isegoria (Herodotus 5.78): the equal right to speak publicly, primarily in the Assembly. Although every citizen was entitled to address the Assembly and make proposals, very few actually did, and even fewer did so regularly. It has been suggested that the latter group did not exceed twenty at any one time, or one hundred for the entire 4th century (Ober 1989: 108). From a larger inventory of all Athenian citizens known to have spoken publicly (or to have been elected generals or treasurers) between 403 and 322, a grand total of 368 persons (Hansen 1983b: 158-179), only some 160 are known to have addressed specifically the Assembly. 9 To address an audience of perhaps as many as 6,000 men in the open air was obviously a very demanding task, both physically and psychologically. (By comparison, addressing the Council or a panel of jurors was far less demanding.) The most eloquent testimony comes from no other than Isocrates, a professional master of rhetoric, with many paying students (and an important political thinker in his own right). He repeatedly states that he could not enter politics himself, because he was born lacking in the two things that have the greatest power in Athens: a strong voice and sufficient self-assurance (Isoc. 12.10; cf. 5.81). The latter was needed to face the multitude and its reactions, which included heckling, laughter, protests, and interruptions (Hansen 1987: 70-71; 1999: 146). Many were simply terrified by the prospect of ascending the speakers’ tribune (bema) under these conditions. The last example in Xenophon’s previously mentioned list involves a wise citizen who was too shy to address the Assembly (Mem. 3.7). Socrates reportedly chided him for his timidity, and urged him to speak to the Assembly, offering the same good advice that he hitherto offered to the politicians in private conversations. If he was not ashamed before the wisest nor afraid of the strongest, why should he be ashamed before the most foolish and weak: the weavers, shoemakers, masons, tinkers, farmers, and merchants composing the Assembly? This is of course a common theme in Socratic dialogues, and points to still another category of citizens who did not speak in the Assembly by choice (if they ever attended). Their sense of social and/or intellectual superiority simply prevented them from addressing and trying to persuade their inferiors, thereby submitting to their judgment and vote. This attitude seems to have been typical of Socrates and his circle, but, in any case, involved only a small minority in Athens. To become a political leader, therefore, one was required to become an accomplished orator, capable of speaking effectively in public, whether in the Assembly, the Council, or the courts. Apart from natural ability or talent, skill in public address also required practice, and even formal training in rhetoric (Ober 1989: 113-6). This was available in Athens from the time of Pericles onward, beginning with the Sophists, and continuing with renowned schools of rhetoric in the 4th century. In other words, 10 the making of an orator typically required leisure and wealth that not many citizens could afford. The orators may have belonged to the social elite, and may have constituted a political elite (Ober 1989). Nevertheless, it was recognized by all that they had a useful, indeed an essential role to play in the democracy. They were required and legitimized above all as advisers of the People (e.g., Demosthenes 18.212), arguing for or against alternative proposals. Isegoria might be exercised in practice by few, but otherwise it would have been impossible to have an orderly discussion leading to an informed decision in the course of an Assembly meeting. Another function of the orators was that of scapegoats. In a monarchy, the fiction that the King “can do no wrong” is required to safeguard the very foundations of the constitution. Its counterpart in a democracy is the fiction that the People cannot be wrong (cf. Hansen 1999: 207). Wrong decisions by the Athenian Assembly had to be explained (away) by poor advice, manipulation, and deception on the part of bad demagogues, self-seeking, or even bribed. This is a common topos in Athenian rhetoric, far more common than the criticisms addressed to the citizens themselves on the part of exceptionally courageous orators like Demosthenes (Ober 1989: 319-24). Characteristically, a law passed at the end of the 5th century made it a crime to receive payment, as an orator, “so as not to give the best advice to the demos of Athens” (Hansen 1999: 213). All this points to the dangers attached to leadership. 11 6. The Perils and Pitfalls of Leadership Unlike the Roman republic, which abhorred kings but had a use for temporary dictators, the Athenian democracy was based on the rejection of one-man rule in any form and under any circumstances. Hereditary kingship had become extinct without upheaval in the 8th century, and its restoration was never envisaged or threatened thereafter. This explains why the title “king” (basileus) was innocuous enough to be retained for one of the nine archons, who had mostly religious duties (whereas the Latin equivalent rex remained taboo even in imperial Rome). The experience of one-man rule that shaped and defined democratic institutions and attitudes in Athens was more recent. It was not kingship, but the tyranny of Peisistratus and his sons (546-510). Its restoration was threatened until at least 490, when the surviving son Hippias attempted a comeback with the Persian army that was eventually defeated at Marathon. A distinctive feature of the Peisistratus regime was its informality. The preexisting constitutional setup was retained. The tyrant himself held no public office, but made sure that public offices were filled by his trusted relatives and associates. He thus ruled the city with an iron hand, while ostensibly remaining a private citizen. This background explains the perennial suspicion of the Athenians that a private citizen might conspire to establish himself as tyrant, presumably with foreign help. It also explains the peculiar institution invented by Cleisthenes upon the downfall of the tyranny: ostracism. Its purpose was to simply remove from Athens the threat that such a citizen represented, and exorcize the attendant danger of civil war. Each year, the Assembly would decide in principle, without discussion, whether such an extraordinary measure was needed. In the affirmative, a second, secret vote was held, with the use of potsherds (ostraka), each inscribed with a name. If the required quorum of 6,000 was attained, the citizen named most frequently (i.e., by a plurality) was exiled for ten years. Neither his family nor his property suffered, but his political career was terminated or, at the very least, interrupted. Throughout the 5th century, political leaders in Athens were constantly threatened with ostracism. Even the most outstanding or, rather, precisely the most outstanding 12 fell victim to this arbitrary procedure, including Aristides, Themistocles, and Cimon. Only Pericles was eventually spared (although his teacher and adviser Damon was ostracized in his stead). The last known ostracism was that of Hyperbolus in 417, when the rivals Nicias and Alcibiades joined forces against him in an unholy alliance, to avert the danger of either of them being ostracized instead. This cynical manipulation apparently condemned ostracism to disuse, although it was never formally abolished (Sakellariou 1999: 397-9). Apart from ostracism, political leaders were also constantly threatened with prosecution for a variety of crimes. Embezzlement and bribery were probably the most common allegations against them. Any citizen could denounce them, usually acting on behalf of their political enemies. Moreover, such public prosecutions resulted in a trial before the People’s Court (Hansen 1999: 203-18). Typically poor themselves, the jurors were regularly moved by envy and resentment whenever they had the opportunity to try the powerful and the rich (Ober 1989: 205-14). Sentences included the death penalty, as well as exorbitant fines, which could turn the condemned into a state debtor, deprived of political rights (atimia). The generals, in particular, had a very dangerous job indeed, not only on the battlefield (where they were expected to lead in person). Demosthenes (4.47) was to argue in 351 that generals ought to die in battle, not by death sentences. Earlier, the hapless general Nicias in Sicily was more afraid of the Athenians than of dying in battle, as Thucydides (7.48) relates. In rejecting the opinion of his colleague for immediate evacuation, Nicias predicted that the very same soldiers clamoring for it, upon their return to Athens would clamor, instead, that the two generals had been bribed to betray and depart. Knowing the character of the Athenians, he preferred to die at the hands of the enemies rather than die at the hands of his fellow citizens, unjustly, on a shameful charge. What applied to other officeholders (mostly chosen by lot) also applied to the elected generals. They were subject to scrutiny (dokimasia) before taking office. They were subject to an examination of their financial accounts and conduct in office (euthynai) after the expiration of their term. During that term, they were confirmed in office (epicheirotonia) by the Assembly at ten regular intervals (once during each prytany). 13 Otherwise, they could be deposed and put on trial (Hamel 1998: 122-6). Pericles himself was briefly deposed and fined in 430, shortly before his death. It has been estimated that roughly 20% of the generals faced prosecution at one time or another (Hamel 1998: 130-57; Hansen 1999: 216-7). Some have argued that, unlike generals, political leaders who held no office were unaccountable, and consequently irresponsible. To counter this view, attempts have been made to show that few never held any office (including that of ambassador). The others were, therefore, held accountable at one time or another (Roberts 1982). Moreover, even orators were subject to scrutiny (dokimasia), as if they were officeholders. They were also vulnerable to prosecution, especially on the charge (graphe paranomon) that they had proposed to the Assembly an unconstitutional or “unlawful” decree. “In the fifth century the state’s strongest weapon against its political leaders had been ostracism, but in the fourth it was a trial before the People’s Court and, typically, a graphe paranomon” (Hansen 1999: 205). This charge was apparently made quite often in the 4th century, although convictions seem to have been relatively rare. One orator, for example, once boasted that he had been indicted seventy-five times but never convicted (Ober 1989: 302, 328). What is perhaps most remarkable in the way the Athenians (mis)treated their leaders, and especially their generals, is not the unfairness and ingratitude, but rather the sheer irrationality underneath it all. Repeatedly, the Athenians managed to deprive themselves of the services of their best generals (including several who fled the city, like Thucydides, rather than face trial and punishment). The case in point is surely the execution of the victorious generals of Arginusae in 406, although they had managed against all odds to redress a desperate military situation. In light of what was to follow, they were probably irreplaceable. Two years later, their successors managed to lose the Peloponnesian War in a single encounter, and in the most disastrous and inept manner. What is also remarkable, nevertheless, is that a substantial number of Athenians continually aspired to leadership, despite all the constraints and the dangers involved. 14 7. Generals and Orators “I am neither a general, nor an orator” (Isoc. 5.81). This is what Isocrates tells Philip of Macedon, to make plain that he holds no position of authority in Athens. “Generals and orators” (or vice versa) is the expression commonly used to designate the city’s political leaders in the 4th century (Hansen 1983a: 37-38, 49-55). In the 5th century, political leaders typically combined the two roles. It is generally agreed that things changed right after the death of Pericles. Nevertheless, this needs to be corrected to some extent. Until the end of the century, both Nicias and Alcibiades conformed to the old model, as generals and orators. Even Cleon, who is usually considered the first of a new type of leader, may be regarded as a transitional case. He may have established his powerful position as an orator in the Assembly, but then became a general and even died as one. What is far more clearcut is that the rise of Cleon signified the end of the monopoly that a few aristocratic families had hitherto held on political leadership (even as champions of the common people). Beginning with him, most political leaders were more or less wealthy, but lacked aristocratic ancestry, although they sometimes tried to establish such connections (cf. Ober 1989: 280-5). Another major difference between the 5th and the 4th century does not seem to have drawn much attention in the literature. This is political polarization between the many (hoi polloi) and the few (hoi oligoi). The Aristotelian Constitution of the Athenians (28.2) evidently intends to convey an image of continuity until the end of the 5th century by listing the succession of individuals who became in turn “leaders of the common people” (prostates tou demou), paired with their counterparts as “leaders of the wellborn” (prostates ton gnorimon). Perhaps for variety, the latter are also designated as “the rich” or simply as “the others”. It seems rather hasty and superficial to conclude that “the politicians of the fourth century are dismissed collectively and anonymously” (Rhodes 1993: 357). After the traumatic experiences with oligarchy in 411 and, especially, 404, when the victorious Spartans imposed the so-called Thirty Tyrants, there could be no room for an aristocratic “party” in the restored Athenian democracy, and, consequently, no polarization with a democratic 15 “party” in the 4th century. This is why the list of paired leaders ends with the 5th century. In the 4th century, the most visible aspect of political leadership in Athens was the separation between generals and orators, which is precisely what gave birth to the novel expression pairing them. This separation has been explained as the outcome of growing professionalism, specialization, and division of labor (Hansen 1987: 50-54; 1999: 268-70; Ober 1989: 91-3). Aristotle himself in his Politics (1305a 11-14) observes that, in earlier times, the demagogues were recruited among the generals. Now, with the growth of the art of rhetoric, those who are gifted speakers become demagogues, but are ignorant of warfare. Three additional factors reduced the political influence of the generals: a) Military professionalism had distinct political implications, since it weakened the ties between the generals and the citizen body. Athenian generals in the 4th century often commanded mercenary troops rather than a purely citizen army (as in the 5th). Some even served themselves a spell or two as mercenary commanders abroad. Conversely, in at least one instance, a distinguished professional soldier was awarded Athenian citizenship so that he could be elected general (cf. Demosthenes 23.65). b) Whether through lack of training or for other reasons, several able generals were poor speakers, and could not (or would not) seek popularity in the Assembly. The orator Aeschines (3.229) laments the general who has done great things for the city, but is a poor speaker and, therefore, cannot present his achievements and take credit for them. c) Another factor was the forced absence of generals on campaigns, which deprived them of any influence they might have had as orators in the Assembly. The earliest example is Cimon in 462. During his absence with an expeditionary force to help the Spartans quell a Helot revolt, the democrats seized the opportunity to reduce the powers of the traditionally aristocratic Council of the Areopagus (Hansen 1999: 37). As campaigns became more distant and longer in the course of the Peloponnesian War and later, the generals in command were condemned to longer spells of political impotence. The prime example here would be Nicias, trapped for two years in Sicily. 16 The same military professionalism that limited the political influence of the generals, also limited that of the orators, who were apparently discouraged from seeking the generalship for themselves (as they would have in the 5th century). Lacking the additional authority that the political leaders of the 5th century had derived from their tenure as generals, the orators of the 4th were unable to build or increase a political following by military success. Instead, they were prepared to fight under the generals as ordinary foot soldiers (hoplites). In 338, both Demades and Demosthenes, leading orators of the day, fought as hoplites in Chaeronea (Hansen 1983a: 51). This is perhaps the most remarkable manifestation of the division of labor. There were those who were sharply critical of this state of affairs, and advocated a return to the “good old days” of undivided or combined leadership. One was Isocrates, comparing unfavorably the Athenians of his day to their ancestors, who “made leaders of the city and elected as generals the very same men” (Isoc. 8.54-5). Another was the outstanding general Phocion, the one who was reportedly elected no less than forty-five times. Again according to Plutarch (Phocion 7.3), Phocion considered that the political leaders of his day had divided among themselves the generalship and the tribune “as if by lot”. For his part, he longed to restore the integrity and plenitude of political authority (combining the two) that Pericles, Aristides, and Solon (?) had enjoyed. How far he achieved this goal is open to discussion (cf. Hansen 1999: 269-70; Ober 1989: 92). Finally, among the political leaders elected as treasurers in the latter half of the 4th century, Eubulus apparently preferred not to address the Assembly himself, but rather through his associates (Sakellariou 1999: 392-3). On the contrary, Lycurgus was an accomplished orator, and is known to have addressed the Assembly on many occasions (Hansen 1983b: 172). Again, it is impossible to say whether the cases of Phocion and Lycurgus point to a permanent return of unitary leadership in Athens, combining influence in the Assembly with elected military or financial office, since the democracy was abolished by the Macedonians in 322. Ironically, Phocion ended his long career as their collaborator, and was consequently executed as a traitor in 318. 17 8. Conclusions and Lessons Despite their instinctive suspicion of leadership and their ingrained attachment to political equality, the Athenians needed generals to lead them in battle, and orators to lead them in discussion and decision-making. In both instances, selection by lot was not an option. This ready-made recipe for equality in practice was of no use. If this is the major conclusion to be drawn from the Athenian experience, it may provide lessons for any discussion of leadership in democratic theory. Perhaps the most damaging lacuna in contemporary thinking about democracy is the absence of any reference to war, as if it had already been exorcized, finally. This may be related to the theory of the “Democratic Peace” and its optimistic determinism that democracies are not likely to wage war, especially among themselves (e.g., Weart 1994). The Athenian experience does not seem to confirm this expectation. As long as there is war, democratic theory cannot simply ignore it. All the more so, since this is the most vital decision (or set of decisions) that a people is ever likely to make. The Athenians always made sure that they would make it themselves, in the Assembly, and fight under generals of their own choice. Nowadays, at a time of highly professional soldiers (and vanishing citizen armies) any idea of election on the Athenian model may be unthinkable. Instead, civilian control of the military requires perforce a civilian “commander in chief”— to employ the American expression that evokes today the most intractable problem of democratic control. In modern times, only the beginning and the end of war have been conceived as subject to democratic control: the declaration of war, and the ratification of the peace treaty. As distinct and formal acts, they can be assimilated to other major decisions that only the people or its representatives are constitutionally empowered to make. In the absence of a declaration or a treaty, other formal acts (like the infamous Gulf of Tonkin Resolution in 1964) may be considered as equivalent. 18 What happens in-between, however, that is, the actual planning and conduct of military operations, is a different matter altogether. The need for secrecy and speed, above all, militates against any kind of democratic decision-making. It is inevitable that these decisions will be made in secrecy by the competent civilian and military leaders, subject only to ex post facto sanctions. If the Athenian experience has anything to teach in this respect, it is that the meddling of the Assembly in military operations more often than not had adverse consequences, if only by preventing able generals in the field from acting on their own best judgment. If we turn to the second item, the picture may be brighter. The model of the Athenian orator as a leader by persuasion is by no means limited to “leader democracy” (Körösényi 2005: 366). If rhetoric is allowed in “authentic” deliberation (Dryzek 2000: 1), the model can be readily extended to “deliberative democracy” as well. There are several well-known and perhaps insoluble problems in this connection. One is the line separating rhetoric from manipulation and deception—or acceptable “orators” from unacceptable “demagogues” (cf. Dryzek 2000: 52-4, 69-70). Where exactly is the line to be drawn, and how can it ever be policed? Another is the hierarchy inevitably generated by rhetoric, which is an art that few can ever master (cf. Dryzek 2000: 67, 173). The Athenian experience highlights these problems, without providing satisfactory solutions. Instead, it offers the insight that leadership by persuasion is not just inescapable, but indeed essential to democracy. Even in the most “non-coercive” setting imaginable, there will be those who “lead” the discussion (if nothing else). Alternative courses of action need to be formulated, presented, and supported by argument, if debate is to result in decision (and not deliberation for its own sake). Sooner or later, after one or several such debates, the exponent of the winning proposal(s) is thereby propelled to a position of leadership that has nothing authoritarian or undemocratic about it. It is, moreover, extremely fragile, precarious, subject to continual renewal, and at the mercy of changing moods or circumstances. Here, in a nutshell, is a “positive” theory of leadership in democracy. 19 This is perhaps the place to recall the famous dictum of Thucydides (2.65.9) that, in the time of Pericles, Athens was in name a democracy, but was in fact ruled by its first (or greatest) citizen. This passage is usually interpreted as a lucid, even cynical, diagnosis of a contradiction denying the reality of Athenian democracy. Yet, it can also be interpreted as an expression of marvel and wonder, in light of the historian’s manifest admiration for Pericles. How was it possible for him to “rule” a democracy as if it was a monarchy (or, worse, a tyranny, as his opponents would argue)? The cause of wonder is the reality of the democracy, not its sham character. Thucydides himself provides the elements of an answer. Pericles was “most powerful in word and deed” (Thuc. 1.139.4): an orator, but also a man of action (especially as a successful general). The qualities of his rhetoric may be appreciated in his Funeral Oration and two Assembly addresses, as reproduced by Thucydides (2.35-46, 1.140144, 2.60-64). They are “the earliest speeches by an Athenian politician that have any reasonable claim to being close to the original” (Ober 1989: 87). Pericles’ power of persuasion was magnified rather than diminished by his unwillingness to merely please his audience, and by his readiness to oppose them, and even provoke their anger. He dominated the multitude “as free men” and “he led them rather than was led by them” (Thuc. 2.65.8; cf. Hornblower 1991: 344-5). Moreover, this formidable power of persuasion had a solid foundation: his own personal integrity and measured lifestyle. Pericles offered himself as an example to his fellow citizens, just as he offered Athens as an example to the rest of Greece in his Funeral Oration. A less admiring Plutarch was to elaborate on all these points five centuries later. If this is the more valid interpretation of the famous dictum, Pericles does not constitute an example of strong leadership that is incompatible with democracy. On the contrary, he emerges as an exceptional leader precisely insofar as he was compatible with democracy—a model democratic leader. His power rested entirely upon persuasion and trust, continually subject to renewal in the Assembly, including the annual test of reelection to the generalship. 20 After Pericles, there was no one like him. The Athenian experience confirms, if need be, that the provision of leadership in a democracy remains inherently contingent and unpredictable. This “existential” fact constitutes perhaps the biggest obstacle preventing the integration of the concept of leadership in democratic theory. Gifted yet compatible leaders may not always be available in a democracy, which will have to do without them. Hence, perhaps, the need for “leaderless” theories. It has often been said that the people have the leaders they deserve. But then, it has also been said, almost as frequently, that they deserve better! REFERENCES Dahl, Robert A. 1971. Polyarchy: Participation and Opposition. New Haven: Yale University Press. Dahl, Robert A. 1989. Democracy and Its Critics. New Haven: Yale University Press. Develin, Robert. 1989. Athenian Officials 684 – 321 B.C. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dryzek, John S. 2000. Deliberative Democracy and Beyond. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Fornara, Charles W. 1971. The Athenian Board of Generals from 501 to 404. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner. Historia Einzelschriften No.16. Hamel, Debra. 1998. 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