Latest / The History of Greece: Philosophy, Empire, and Endless Reinvention — Fexingo History / The Ekklesia: How Ordinary Athenians Ran an Empire
Transcript
- Lucas: We've spent a lot of episodes in the assembly's shadow, talking about the decisions Athens made — war, peace, ostracism, tribute. But we've never actually looked at the thing itself, the ekklesia. The meeting where thousands of ordinary Athenians decided the fate of an empire. Luna: So how did that actually work? I mean, who showed up, and how did they all get to speak? Lucas: Right, so first, the ekklesia was the sovereign body, but it didn't meet every day. It met about forty times a year, on the Pnyx, a hill west of the Acropolis. And it was open to all adult male citizens — we're talking maybe forty thousand eligible, though in practice a few thousand would show up on a good day. Lucas: And it wasn't just the elite. Any citizen could speak, at least in theory. The herald would ask 'who wishes to address the assembly?' and anyone who had the nerve could climb up to the bema, the speaker's platform. There was a water clock to time your speech, and a board of officials called the prytaneis set the agenda. But the real power was the vote. Luna: But wait, didn't they also have that council of five hundred? The boule? Lucas: Exactly, the boule — the Council of Five Hundred. They were chosen by lot from the ten tribes, fifty each, and they prepared the business for the ekklesia. They met every day, and they were basically the executive committee. So the ekklesia debated and decided, but the boule made sure things got done. It's a system of checks, almost. Lucas: Now, here's where it gets really interesting. The Athenians were obsessed with avoiding the concentration of power. So they used the lot for almost everything — not just the boule, but also jurors and most magistrates. The idea was that any citizen could serve, and that demokratia literally meant 'the people hold power.' Luna: So how did they pick the jurors for the big trials, like when Socrates was condemned? Lucas: Ah, that's where the kleroterion comes in — a stone slab with rows of slots. Each juror would insert a bronze ticket with his name, and then the machine would randomly drop black and white balls to determine who was selected for duty that day. It was a genuinely random process, designed to stop bribery and influence. And it worked, at least in principle. Lucas: But the ekklesia wasn't just about law courts. It made the big calls — whether to go to war, what treaties to sign, how to spend the state's money. And by the time of Pericles, they even got paid for attending, so even the poorest citizens could participate without losing a day's wages. That was a radical idea. Luna: Pay for citizens to attend politics? That sounds almost modern. Lucas: It was a game-changer. Before that, the assembly was dominated by the wealthy who could afford the time. Pericles introduced misthos, payment for jury service, and later for assembly attendance. It meant that a farmer or an artisan could take a day off and help run the city. That's when democracy really became something for the many, not just the few. Lucas: Of course, we have to be careful. This was still a deeply exclusive system. Only adult male citizens whose parents were both Athenian could participate. Women, slaves, and metics — free foreigners living in Athens — had no vote. So when we talk about Athenian democracy, we're talking about a democracy of a privileged minority. Luna: Hmm, that's a pretty big 'but'. Lucas: It is. And it's something the Athenians themselves were aware of, at least sometimes. Aristotle, writing a generation later, calls democracy 'rule by the poor' — and he's not wrong, because the majority of citizens were not rich. But it's still a far cry from universal suffrage. Lucas: Let's talk about the actual experience of an assembly meeting. Picture it: you're on the Pnyx, a semicircular open-air auditorium that could hold maybe six to eight thousand. It's early morning, and the prytaneis are there, along with the heralds. There's no police, but there are Scythian archers — public slaves — to keep order if things got out of hand. Lucas: The agenda is set by the prytaneis, who are the fifty members of the boule currently serving their month. They'd post the agenda in advance, and at the meeting, the herald would read it out. Then it's open debate. Anyone can speak, but in practice, it was usually the experienced politicians — the demagogues, if you will — who dominated the conversation. Luna: So what stopped someone from just talking forever and never letting anyone else get a word in? Lucas: The water clock, for one. Each speaker got a set amount of time — often six minutes for a major issue, less for routine matters. And there were laws against insulting your opponents, though they were often bent. But the real check was that the people voted at the end. If you proposed something they didn't like, you'd lose. And if you proposed something really bad, you could be fined or even ostracized. Luna: Ostracism — we talked about that when we did the episode on it. It's such a strange idea, voting to exile someone for ten years. Lucas: It is, and it's a perfect example of how the ekklesia wielded its power. Every year, the assembly would first decide whether to hold an ostracism. If they did, citizens would write a name on a potsherd — an ostrakon — and if at least six thousand votes were cast, the person with the most votes had to leave Athens for ten years. No trial, no appeal. Lucas: It wasn't a punishment for a crime — it was a way to remove someone who seemed to be gaining too much power, before they could become a tyrant. And it worked, at least in the sense that it happened. We know of several prominent figures, like Themistocles and Cimon, who were ostracized. But by the late fifth century, it fell out of use, partly because it was abused — like when Hyperbolus was exiled in 417 BC. Luna: That was the one where they used it to get rid of someone who was just a nuisance, right? Lucas: Exactly. Hyperbolus was a demagogue, not a real threat, and the leading politicians of the day — Nicias and Alcibiades — supposedly teamed up to get him ostracized, and he got sent packing. It kind of discredited the whole thing. But it shows how seriously the assembly took the idea of checking power. Lucas: Now, one thing that always amazes me is that the ekklesia made decisions on complex issues — military campaigns, foreign alliances, public works — with no professional bureaucracy to advise them. They had the boule, but that was just five hundred citizens chosen by lot. And they relied on speeches, often from people who had their own agendas. Luna: It sounds like a recipe for disaster, honestly. Lucas: It could be. Thucydides, the historian, was deeply skeptical. He lived through the Peloponnesian War and watched the assembly make catastrophic decisions, like the Sicilian expedition in 415 BC. He saw how emotional appeals could trump rational argument. But he also acknowledged the power of the system — when it worked, it worked because it drew on the collective wisdom of thousands of people. Lucas: There's a famous story about a debate over whether to invade Sicily. Alcibiades, young and charismatic, argued for it, painting a vision of conquest. Nicias, older and more cautious, warned against it. The assembly voted to go, and it was a disaster — the entire fleet was destroyed, and Athens never really recovered. So the ekklesia could be wrong, spectacularly wrong. Luna: That's a heavy thought. But it's also what makes it so human, right? Lucas: Absolutely. And that's part of why we keep coming back to Athens. They invented a system that put power in the hands of ordinary people, and they lived with the consequences. It's messy, it's flawed, but it's also incredibly inspiring. And that's something we here at Fexingo try to bring to life. Lucas: And a quick honest thing — the reason we can spend so much time going deep into the ekklesia and the Pnyx, and do it without ads, is that a small group of listeners chips in a few dollars a month through buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. That's it — it's not a big corporation, it's just people who like these conversations and want to keep them going. Luna: It does make a difference, I think. It keeps this whole thing independent. Lucas: Yeah, and we're grateful for it. But let's get back to the Pnyx — I want to talk about the ritual and the atmosphere, because that's something you don't get from reading a decree. Lucas: The assembly began with a herald's prayer, and there were sacrifices before the meeting. They also opened with a curse against anyone who would deceive the people. Then the herald would read the agenda, and the debate would begin. It must have been chaotic — hundreds of people shouting, clapping, hissing. The orators had to be loud and forceful just to be heard. Lucas: And there were rules about decorum, but they were often ignored. We hear stories of speakers being pushed off the bema, and of the archers being called in to restore order. But despite the chaos, the Athenians took it seriously. They saw participation in the ekklesia as a civic duty, not just a right. A citizen who never attended was called an idiotes, which is where we get the word 'idiot.' Luna: So they literally thought someone who didn't participate was an idiot? That's harsh. Lucas: It's a bit different from our modern use, but yes, the root idea is that the private person, the one who only cares about their own affairs, is somehow less than a citizen. That's a powerful value, even if we might not agree with it entirely. It shows how embedded democracy was in their identity. Lucas: Now, one of the most dramatic moments in the ekklesia's history came in 406 BC, after the Battle of Arginusae. The Athenian fleet won a great victory, but a storm prevented them from rescuing survivors, and some captains were blamed. The assembly, in a rage, voted to execute the generals — all together, illegally, without individual trials. It was a mob decision, and later they regretted it. Luna: That's chilling. It's like the system turned on itself. Lucas: It is. Socrates was one of the few who refused to go along with it, at great personal risk. He was serving as a member of the prytaneis that day, and he alone voted against the motion, citing the law. It didn't stop the execution, but it became a famous example of standing up to the crowd. And it's a reminder that the ekklesia, for all its ideals, was still a human institution. Lucas: But there's also a more positive side. The ekklesia was where Athenians debated and decided on the building of the Parthenon, on the great festivals, on the tragedies performed at the Dionysia. It wasn't just about war and politics — it was about culture and religion, too. The same assembly that sent fleets to Sicily also voted to fund theatrical productions. Luna: That's a nice balance to end on. I hadn't thought of the ekklesia as a cultural force, but it makes sense. Lucas: And that's the legacy. When we think of democracy, we often think of voting and elections. But the Athenian ekklesia was something more — a place where citizens gathered to talk, argue, and decide things together. It was messy, imperfect, and deeply human. And that's something we can still learn from today.