PEISISTRATUS and the Secrets of Power:
Instructions for Hippias and Hipparchus
Is there something like a ‘good tyrant’?
Such a notion appears counterintuitive at first sight, especially for proponents of a strong democracy, as they care about a political culture that is inclusive, participatory, and transparent. Yet even at the height of democracy in the 5th century, the Athenians maintained a highly positive image of their ‘tyrant’ Peisistratus, under whom Athens rose to one of the strongest and wealthiest poleis of Greece (564-529 BCE).
Although he had used cunning and violence to obtain preeminence in the running of the state, his government actually showed innovation, moderation, and balance, benefitting all levels of society. He reserved the top positions for the wealthiest in accordance with the Constitution of Solon (594 BCE), but at the same time, he lifted thousands of the poor up into the middle class, who remained the arbiter of public affairs in the assembly of the people (ecclesia).
Most of what is known about him is derived from the short and legendary account of how he came to power (Herodotus’ Histories I 59-64), whereas Herodotus’ book on 6th-century constitutional history only covers the unfortunate end of his sons Hippias (ruled 529-510 BCE) and Hipparchus (killed in 514 BCE). But thanks to another spectacular discovery of Rabbi Ben – relentless on his quest for understanding and dismantling the secrets of power – we now have the opportunity to look deeper into the mechanisms of Peisistratus’ rule. It appears that he wanted to bequeath his sons not only his estate and preeminence in Athens, but also a collection of political reflections, written down in leisurely nights to guide them through the storms of the future. We shall never know if the scroll with his invaluable insights ever reached his sons, but through miraculous ways, they ended up on the Rabbi’s desk, and he is now presenting their first English translation to us.
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My sons:
We have had many discussions, and I have tried to teach you many things for when, as I hope, you will rule. I think that we know that we are good for the people, that while, yes, we have striven to gain power and maintain our grip, we do so not only for ourselves but for everyone. There is ambition for its own sake, and then there is ambition that is noble. I believe, in my heart, that we have noble ambition.
We are necessary because while the people are for the most part good, they are not as wise as we are, nor as quick. If we are to lead them, we must always have a clear picture where we are leading them to. We must never be so fixed in our ways that we cannot bend when we need to, or at least, seem to be bending.
As your father and your teacher, I can see that sometimes, you do not seem to understand what I am doing. So, I will write some of my thoughts down for you to refer to when it will be your time. There is always a great deal to think about, and there are new situations, but there are principles and methods by which we should lead. In this first chapter, I am writing about a method, a way to lead. I want to remind you about something that happened between us not long ago.
When you were helping me to store manuscripts of oracular poetry on the Acropolis, Hippias, you kept wondering why we were going through so much trouble to do this, why we would be concerned with what you called “silly old poetry”. I asked both of you to sit and think and offer me a reason.
Hipparchus, you thought that this was for my vanity, to possess poetry the way one collects jewelry or amasses a fortune for its own sake or owns a field. You took it as a sign of my wealth and power but nothing more. In short, you thought we were collecting poetry for my vanity.
Hippias, you thought that since poetry is entertainment, control over entertainment is a useful tool. By controlling the performance of poetry, we have the power to withhold it from the public. We can limit the public’s opportunities to have this enjoyment or edification. But then we can turn around and present ourselves not as controlling but rather lavish and generous to the public in providing them with opportunities to hear poetry. You said that you have heard some complaint that all poetry should be in the public domain, not in private control. Those complainers are intelligent and idealistic. But giving in would lessen our power.
We have envied our friend Polycrates of Samos, not only for the naval empire he built, but also for his friendship with the renowned poet Anacreon who helped him sweeten his otherwise tyrannical rule for his subjects. But have we not done even more by enhancing the glory of the yearly Panathenaea? We’ve established the Great Panathenaea to take place every four years. Prizes are no longer confined to athletes, but we also award them to the bards who recite the Homeric epics. And after we placed the cult of Dionysus under our state sponsorship – another brilliant move, you generously said with a smile –, we have sponsored prizes at the yearly Dionysia for the singing of dithyrambs and lately for the performance of tragedies.
And all of this is entertainment; this is true, in a narrow way. But it is so much more. Song, poetry, and celebration help create a sense of belonging, of purpose, of We.
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My sons:
I previously talked to you about the power of poetry. There are different kinds of poetry, and one that I wish to reflect on this time involves oracles. If you ask anybody about the nature of oracles, the likely answer will be that they pertain to the future. But in fact, they rather relate to the past. Or should I rather say: they may help you gain control over the past. Yet, control of the past may be key to control of the present.
I have a complex relationship with oracles and the like. Do you remember the story that nearly prevented my birth? My father Hippocrates attended the Olympic Games and during a sacrifice to the gods, a man named Chilon the Lacadaemonian said that the meat was boiled without a fire. On the basis of what he took to be a sign, Chilon recommended that my father send my mother away, and if he did not and she bore a son, he should disown him. My father did not follow Chilon's advice, and later, he had a son, me. You would think that this would make me hate signs and prophecies. On the contrary, I would take the sign and say that just as meat boiled without a fire is a miracle, my father was destined to be granted a wonderful miracle in his future. Do you see what I mean? Don’t ignore the sign; use it, interpret it, make it say what you want it to say.
Let us imagine an oracular consultation at Delphi if we were not in control. The poetry would be transcribed by delegates that had been sent to Delphi in order to hear the actual delivery of the oracular poetic message. These delegates would bring the transcript from Delphi to the people of Athens; and these same delegates would proclaim to the people, on the basis of the transcript, the message of the oracle, or else openly discuss alternative meanings (cf. Herodotus 7.142.1). This procedure would be very different from our practice, through which we have private possession of poetry as a text and control the occasion of its performance and the contents of its composition. That is, the oracle will say what we want it to say.
We shall now think more about the uses of oracles. We can create oracles and say that long ago, such and such was supposed to happen. If we have an oracle presented, most will live with it in their minds and within its lines; this helps us to control them.
And yet, while I am implying that all oracles can be manipulated by leaders, I do somehow still have respect for the idea of oracles, that underneath everything we do, the Fates are at work. Since we have risen to the top, I do think that we are supposed to be here, and I live every day, not only trying to stay here, but to be worthy of where life has brought us.
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My sons:
How did I come to rule the first time? Do you remember how I did it?
One Lesson: When others are feuding, there is always an opportunity for a third party. Especially if you know how to plan and you know how to pretend and have a flair for the dramatic.
There were two groups, the Athenians of the coast under Megacles son of Alcmaeon and the Athenians of the plain under Lycurgus son of Aristoleides. I gathered followers and pretended to champion the group from the plain. I wounded myself and my mules and drove my wagon into the marketplace, with a story that I had escaped from my enemies, who would have killed me as I was driving into the country. So, I implored the people to give me a guard. Remember, I had a reputation because I had commanded the army against the Megarians, when I had taken Nisaea and performed other great exploits. The Athenians gave me a guard of chosen citizens, and I made them my clubmen (I mean, they really carried wooden clubs). With this band, I took the Acropolis.
Now I ruled the Athenians, but I was careful not to make any changes in the laws or the order of offices. I governed the city according to its established constitution and arranging all things fairly and well.
So that should have ensured my success, correct? It did not. During my first rule of Athens, I did not know enough about managing factions, and the followers of Lycurgus and Megacles got together and drove me out of Athens.
I have learned more from my mistakes and my insufficiencies than I have learned from my victories. Second Lesson: The very people who are discontented are often belligerent and difficult people who are never satisfied. So, after those factions drove me out, do you think they could stay united? My enemies who had joined against me began to feud once more. Then Megacles, who sent me a message offering me power if I would marry his daughter. I accepted.
We devised a plan to bring me back which may be the strangest thing I ever did but is very revealing about people. There was a woman called Phya, very, very tall, and shall I say, well-formed, the kind of woman you might say looks like a goddess. We equipped her in full armor and put her in a chariot and we made the most impressive spectacle, driving into the city, with heralds running before us, and when they came into town proclaimed: “Athenians, give a hearty welcome to Peisistratus, whom Athena herself honors above all men and is bringing back to her own acropolis.”
The word spread that Athena had brought me back, and the townsfolk, believing that the woman was Athena, brought me back to power.
My sons, I wish to stress before you not only how to rule and maintain control, but how you should think about those you rule. Third Lesson: Do not overestimate their intelligence.
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My sons:
If my long-developed plans proceed, one or more of you will become the ruler of Athens after me. I worry about many things, but especially about what you might do to lose what I am giving you. I fear that you will become your own worst enemy by feeling things that lead you to self-destructive actions.
What is the charge against tyrants? That they have the habit of simply providing for themselves, of looking just to their personal comfort, as if their own safety was paramount. That cannot be your great aim. You must think about the greater good and the greater power that you can bring to Athens. There are tyrants who having reached their ambition, lose their ambition for anything more, for themselves or their people.
Let us say that you have a son, and the son commits crimes that all the citizens know about and demand punishment for. You love your son; you cannot stand for anything bad to happen to him. And your temptation is to exonerate him completely. You must not do this. He has done wrong, and he must be punished the way anyone else’s son would be punished. If you do not do this, you will undermine the law. Frankly, you are, in many ways, above the law. But you can claim that whatever you do is good for the people. In the case of your son, you cannot claim this. This is the kind of thing that everyone will remember and hurt your standing.
Let me be very direct: without singling out one of you, I fear that your passions will overwhelm you and destroy you. I do not begrudge or resent your desires, but I do fear where they might lead unless you learn to control them.
You must always protect yourself. This includes protecting you from yourself by controlling yourself.
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My sons:
I would be very proud to leave these letters as expressions of my wisdom, earned from my successful experiences. But I know that you know that I have made mistakes, even if they were made for reasons that you would agree with and even appreciate in a very personal way.
What does ‘tyrant’ mean? It means someone who acquired power through, shall we say, means that are not the usual ways.
After I lost power the first time, I was anxious to return. I know that you know this story, but I want to go over it to press a point. The groups under Megacles and Lycurgus had joined together, but like the tough, difficult, mean-spirited men that they are, they could not get along with each other. So Megacles offered me a deal, somewhat unusual for our time and place, but a common way in history in many cultures to create power and pass it down to the next generation. Royalty sees a charismatic man, someone who might seize the crown through his own skill and ambition. Rather than see this happen, royalty offers a daughter to the man, so that he will become king, preserve the family, and ensure the royal line through the mother. I suppose Megacles thought himself such royalty, or aspired that his family would rule, so he offered me his daughter in marriage, with the thought that his grandson would rule someday. But I had other plans, for you, my sons, so while I agreed, I had no intention of producing such an heir.
I came back to power, married her, but, not to be indelicate, did not finish the act of consummation. She was disappointed and angry, and reported this to her father, and I lost power again.
So what is the lesson? People abide many faults, but a broken covenant is not one of them. Even thieves hold to their deals. Looking back, I should have finished the act. Perhaps a boy would have ruled after his older half-brothers. Perhaps I would have had a daughter. Perhaps something would have befallen the child. Perhaps something would have happened to my new wife. So many possibilities, and I made the worst choice.
As I wrote in a previous letter, do not let your personal emotions cloud your judgment. In this case, it was my love for you, my sons, that was my undoing. A clear head is essential so that you can remember when you are being sincere and when you are lying. Even a tyrant must tell the truth about the things that the people who keep you in power really care about.
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My dear sons:
I am nearing the end, so I hope I can leave you with one more thought. Always remember that people are astonishingly gullible, and a wise person can manipulate them with a little planning. Athena in Athens, indeed!
I have written to you about the use of oracles. Oracular poetry is useful on occasions when it can be used for the immediate requirements of time and place.
Epic poetry, however, is different. The Iliad and Odyssey are basically set, and they cannot just be brought out for the needs of the moment. Yet they are performed again and again at formal occasions such as the Feast of the Panathenaia, and there are many different texts and scenes in Homer, so that a great poet can inspire different moods. If we want to go to war, we might have certain glorious scenes recited. If we oppose war, there are many touching scenes about the terrible consequences of war. It’s interesting to me that when I was younger, I saw images of Achilles and Hector slaying their enemies. Now I see Priam asking Achilles for Hector’s body. Homer gives us both.
Also remember that there is such a thing as noble ambition. You can seek power and maintain it while serving the needs of the people. A tyrant can do good. The goal is to do both. Take it from me: Life is short, and you want to be remembered, and you want your name to live on, spoken of by people who seek to learn from the past.