Latest / Ancient Greece: Philosophy, Democracy, and Endless War — Fexingo History / The Ostracism of Themistocles: How Athens Expelled Its Greatest Hero
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about Athenian democracy—the assembly, the courts, the reforms of Cleisthenes. But there's one practice that really shows how raw Athenian politics could get: ostracism. Luna: Right, the vote where they'd exile someone for ten years just by writing a name on a clay shard. Lucas: Exactly. Those shards are called ostraka, and they're pretty much the only physical ballot we have from the ancient world. Archaeologists have found thousands in the Kerameikos—Athens' potters' quarter and cemetery. They're just broken pottery pieces with names scratched into them. And one of the most famous victims of ostracism was the man who saved Greece at Salamis: Themistocles. Luna: Wait, the guy who tricked Xerxes into fighting in the straits? He got ostracized? Lucas: He did. And it's one of the great ironies of Athenian history. Themistocles was the architect of the naval victory at Salamis in 480 BCE. He'd convinced the Athenians to build a fleet with the silver from the mines at Laurium, and then he masterminded the battle that crushed the Persian navy. By 479, the Persians were driven out of Greece. But within a decade, Themistocles was on the run, accused of treason, and ended up at the court of the Persian king. Luna: That is such a dramatic fall. What happened? Lucas: A few things. After the Persian Wars, Athens was at its peak, and Themistocles was incredibly powerful. But he was also arrogant—Plutarch says he built a temple to Artemis near his house and called it Artemis of Good Counsel, implying he gave good counsel. That rubbed people the wrong way. Plus, he pushed for a wall around Athens, which alarmed the Spartans. His main rival was Cimon, the son of Miltiades—the hero of Marathon. Cimon was pro-Spartan, aristocratic, and he led a faction that opposed Themistocles' naval-heavy democracy. The political climate shifted. Luna: So ostracism was the weapon they used against him? Lucas: Yes. The exact date is debated, but probably around 471 or 470 BCE, the Athenians held an ostracism vote. Every citizen could write a name on an ostrakon, and if at least 6,000 votes were cast, the person with the most votes was exiled for ten years. They didn't need a crime—just enough people wanting you gone. Themistocles lost. He left Athens and went to Argos, a city in the Peloponnese that was traditionally hostile to Sparta. Luna: But that wasn't the end, was it? I remember something about him being accused of conspiring with Persia. Lucas: Right. While he was in Argos, the Spartans accused him of medism—that is, collaborating with the Persians. They claimed he was involved in a plot with Pausanias, the Spartan general who had led the Greeks at Plataea. Pausanias was a bit of a loose cannon—he'd adopted Persian habits and was suspected of treason. The Spartans sent envoys to Athens saying they had evidence linking Themistocles to the plot. Thucydides tells us the Athenians believed it, or at least used it as an excuse. They sent men to arrest him. Luna: So he fled. Did he actually go to Persia? Lucas: He did, but it's an incredible story. Themistocles slipped away from Argos and went first to Corcyra, then to Epirus. He was pursued all the way. At one point, he threw himself on the mercy of Admetus, the king of the Molossians, who was an old enemy. But Themistocles took the king's son and sat by the hearth, a gesture of supplication, and Admetus protected him. Eventually, he made his way to Persia, where he asked to see the new king, Artaxerxes I, the son of Xerxes. Can you imagine? The man who defeated your father's navy, asking for asylum. Luna: And Artaxerxes took him in? Lucas: He did. According to Thucydides, Themistocles learned Persian and spent a year studying the court, then presented himself to the king. He promised to help Persia conquer Greece—a promise he apparently never intended to keep. Artaxerxes was so impressed that he gave him three cities: Magnesia for his bread, Myus for his meat, and Lampsacus for his wine. Themistocles lived out his life there, a Persian governor, dying around 459 BCE. Some say he committed suicide rather than lead a campaign against Athens, but that may be legend. Luna: It's almost too perfect. The hero of Salamis ends up eating Persian bread. Lucas: It's a stark reminder of how fragile political favor was in Athens. Ostracism was supposed to prevent tyranny—if someone got too powerful, you could remove them without a trial. But it was also a blunt instrument, easily manipulated by factions. Themistocles was a victim of his own success. And in a way, his exile proves the system worked—they checked a powerful individual—but it also cost Athens one of its best minds. Luna: It's such a human story. You can almost feel the resentment building. Lucas: And we know from the ostraka themselves. Archaeologists have found hundreds of ostraka with Themistocles' name—some scratched in haste, some carefully written. A few even have insulting comments, like 'Themistocles son of Neocles, the traitor.' It's tangible evidence of the campaign against him. There's also a famous set of ostraka from the 480s, actually before his ostracism, that show he was almost exiled once earlier. He survived that vote, but the second time, he didn't. Luna: So ostracism wasn't just a one-time thing. They could vote again. Lucas: Exactly. It could be held annually, and the same person could be targeted repeatedly. Some people were ostracized multiple times, though ten years was the standard penalty. The practice lasted until the late 5th century. The last known ostracism was of Hyperbolus, a demagogue, around 417. After that, it fell out of use, partly because it had been abused. But for a time, it was a uniquely Athenian way to manage ambition. Luna: There's something about this show—we get to dig into a topic like ostracism and see how it actually worked, warts and all. And we do it without any ads interrupting, which I really appreciate. Lucas: It's something we're proud of. We keep Fexingo ad-free because we think history deserves that space. If you want to help keep it that way, you can support us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. No pressure, just a way to keep the conversations going. Luna: Absolutely. And speaking of conversations, let's get back to Themistocles. I'm curious about the actual mechanics of the ostracism vote. Lucas: Sure. The procedure was set up by Cleisthenes, but it evolved. Each year, the assembly would decide whether to hold an ostracism. If yes, a date was set. On that day, citizens gathered in the agora, in a fenced-off area with ten entrances—one for each tribe. They brought their own ostrakon, or picked one up there. They scratched a name on it and dropped it in a jar. Then officials counted the votes. If fewer than 6,000 votes were cast, the whole thing was invalid. If more, the person with the most votes had to leave Athens within ten days. Luna: And they could take their property? Lucas: Yes, ostracism wasn't a confiscation of property. It was political exile, not criminal. You kept your wealth, you just couldn't set foot in Attica for ten years. After that, you could return and reclaim your citizenship. Themistocles, of course, never returned. But others did, and some even came back to high office. Luna: So it was a safety valve. A way to let off steam without violence. Lucas: Aristotle said exactly that—it was a way to remove exceptionally powerful men without civil war. But it had a dark side. It could be used to settle scores. And it relied on the whims of the crowd. Themistocles wasn't the only great leader to be ostracized. Aristides the Just was ostracized, supposedly because people got tired of hearing him called 'the Just.' But he was recalled later. Cimon himself was ostracized in 461, though he came back. The system was rough, but it did prevent any one person from becoming too dominant. Luna: And it's a reminder that democracy isn't always pretty. It's messy. Lucas: Absolutely. And the story of Themistocles is one of the messiest. He went from savior to exile to Persian courtier. In a way, his life mirrors the arc of Athenian democracy itself—brilliant, ambitious, and ultimately self-destructive. But it also shows the resilience of the system. The same democracy that expelled Themistocles also produced the plays of Aeschylus, the history of Thucydides, and the philosophy of Socrates. It was a system that could handle its own contradictions. Luna: I'd never thought of it that way. Thanks for this episode, Lucas. Lucas: Thank you, Luna. And to everyone listening, if you want to see images of those ostraka, check the show notes. There's something powerful about holding a piece of pottery with a name scratched by a citizen two and a half thousand years ago.