Ancient Ostracism: Banishment ballots stashed in a well, and the tale of the Rob Zombie sea battle
Got any politicians you want to get rid of? I don’t mean kick out of office — I mean banish. Like, pack your bags and get out.
It was called “ostracism,” and that’s what you could do in Ancient Athens. I suppose it was an early form of “canceling” someone. Probably preferable to what they did to Socrates…
Shattered Pots, Evicted Aspirations
A picture I took in the Ancient Agora in Athens, where ostracisms once took place. That’s The Temple of Hephaestus up on the hill.
Let’s start with what’s in the main picture up at the top — I took it in the Museum of the Ancient Agora in Athens, which sits at the foot of the Acropolis. These little bits are called “potsherds,” broken pieces of pottery. They weren’t good for anything, so why not recycle them? You’d scratch someone’s name down, and that served as a ballot.
The word for these shards was “ostraka.” And the act of banishing someone? Ostracism: Hence, the word we still use. Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.
The Athenians loved themselves some democracy. While other Greek City-States had it too, we often look at Athens as the biggest and brightest example of it.
To them, democracy also meant the people would get a say in kicking someone out of town, like a rowdy, drunken Russell Crowe might get bounced from a bar after a few too many bottles of Foster’s.
My apologies to any Australian readers I may have just inadvertently offended with my spur of the moment analogy. Please feel free to curse me over a Bloomin’ Onion or whatever it is you guys eat for snacks.
How did an ostracism work? Let’s turn to our old friend, the ancient historian Plutarch:
”Each voter took an ostrakon, or potsherd, wrote on it the name of that citizen whom he wished to remove from the city, and brought it to a place in the agora which was all fenced about with railings…the man who had received the most votes they proclaimed banished for ten years, with the right to enjoy the income from his property.”
So ostracism was bad, but not entirely bad. No hemlock smoothie, just thrown out. Maybe while people sang that “Hey hey, goodbye” song. Plutarch talks of it in oddly glowing terms, saying it was a “merciful exorcism of the spirit of jealous hate.” I take that to mean it calmed people down.
Kind of like Russell Crowe after he got a chance to sleep it off.
Ostracism Targets
This is the reconstructed Stoa of Attalos in the Ancient Agora, basically a covered walkway. I would’ve put a picture of Megacles here, but couldn’t find any. You’d think someone with such a cool name would have some statues or something.
Being brought up as a potential victim of ostracism happened to nearly every prominent politician. In theory, it was a way for the people to keep the dominant in check — if someone started amassing too much power or got a little too big for their britches, boom. Ostracism. Out.
Take a guy named Megacles, who was ostracized for living too luxurious of a lifestyle. One ostraka refers to him as “Megacles the adulterer,” so there must’ve been some filthy rumors about him.
Incidentally, “Megacles” is an awesome name. It makes me think of a really expensive Transformer you build by connecting a bunch of little Transformers.
There’s a lot of these nasty little accusations written on ostraka. You’d mark someone’s name, then call them a “sinner” or a “traitor.” One calls a guy “the donkey.” Another refers to a supposedly incestuous relationship the politician Cimon had with his half-sister. Ostraka apparently functioned as an ancient form of Twitter.
Tale of the 200
This is a bust of Themistocles. He looks pretty generic, so I’m going to go out on a limb and say he probably looked nothing like this.
This is the Tale of the 200. No, not 300. 200. Not like the movie. Well, kind of like the movie. It’s from the same time.
So there’s this super popular dude named Themistocles. A really smooth man’s man of Ancient Athens. And he loved ships.
He was born in a time of change. Athens was sweeping away the tyrants and establishing democracy. Themistocles was smart, and understood that since the power would lie with the people, he needed to be around them. He moves to the poor part of town.
Plutarch said “he could call off-hand the name of every citizen.” Look at me, I’m just like you, we’re the same, let’s go kick back a few jugs!
He advances up the ranks. Following the ostracism of some high-ranking folks, there’s a power vacuum. Themistocles makes his move, and has the people behind him. On the other side is a man who’s favored by the wealthy: His lifelong rival, Aristides…known as “The Just.”
Around this time, the Athenians find a bunch of silver in a mine. They’re rich! Party time! But what would they do with all this money? Wine? Fancy wagons? Fancy wagons full of wine?
But it’s tough to party when people want you dead. While some thought the money should go to the citizens, Themistocles knew of the looming threat of the Persians, who’d surely be coming to crush them once and for all. He pushed hard for Athens to build 200 triremes — warships with three levels of oars.
Here’s good old Aristides, being helpful. In a sorrowful kind of way.
Aristides didn’t want this. He was highly respected and an all around good guy, and also had a lot of military experience, serving as a general at the Battle of Marathon. He thought Athens should maintain their land power. So what happens? Tensions heat until one of these two is getting kicked out.
The vote for ostracism is happening, and a guy walks up to Aristides, not knowing who he is. He hands over an ostraka, and wants some help in writing down a name — the name of Aristides. Here’s Plutarch:
“He, astonished, asked the man what possible wrong Aristides had done him. ‘None whatever,’ was the answer, ‘I don’t even know the fellow, but I am tired of hearing him everywhere called “The Just.”’ On hearing this, Aristides made no answer, but wrote his name on the ostrakon and handed it back.”
Aristides lost, and was banished. You can see his name on the big rectangular ostraka in the main picture up top. Now, there was a lot more at play here — Aristides had been accused of being a Persian sympathizer, and was likely the target of propaganda coming from Themistocles. “Oh, you didn’t hear? Aristides is a filthy communist!”
Waters of Healing
A predictably dramatic rendition of the Battle of Salamis from the 1800’s, featuring much wailing. You can see Xerxes up in the top left.
So Themistocles got his ships, though only a hundred at first. Soon, the Athenians learn the Persians are coming to crush them once and for all. Themistocles winds up with more ships than he’d ever asked for.
Persia comes. The Greek City-States unite. After some losses, including the famous “300” story at Thermopylae, Themistocles gets his big chance.
He sends someone to convince the Persian king Xerxes that he wants to team up with them. He says the City-States are arguing and are about to retreat — if Xerxes wants to beat them for good, just send the Persian fleet to block the strait of Salamis. Xerxes is eager to destroy the Greeks and get this war overwith. Invading territories is hard work, full of supply line issues and tired troops. I can imagine Xerxes staring at ancient spreadsheets in frustration.
Xerxes takes the bait and bites the lie. Themistocles and his ships are there waiting at the strait. And guess who else shows up? Our old friend Aristides.
You see, Themistocles introduced a bill that allowed many of the ostracized to come back. He lit the beacon, and Aristides returned in their darkest hour. It’s kind of like if Iron Man kicked Captain America out of the Avengers, then a bunch of aliens showed up. Someone get Aristides a shield!
Here’s what the historian Herodotus says about their meeting:
”Because of the magnitude of the present ills, he deliberately forgot all that and called him out, wanting to talk to him…when Themistocles came out he said, ‘On all occasions and especially now, our contention must be over which of us will do our country more good.’”
This is a drawing of what an Ancient Greek trireme would’ve looked like. I can see why they were pricy.
The parallels are astounding. The Greek City-States were constantly at each other’s throats, unless there’s some external threat. In which case, all arguments get put on the back burner. And so it was with our two feuding heroes. You’ve got to think Aristedes emerged dramatically from a thick sea of smoke.
Aristides tells Themistocles that the Persians bought into the deception. Though the Athenians are outnumbered, the much larger Persian ships are too crowded in the narrow strait. The triremes are able to use their primary weapons: rowing up to speed, then ramming into their enemies — either breaking off their oars, or just ripping holes in the sides of their ships.
It must have been brutal. The giant Persian ships trying to maneuver, slamming into each other as the triremes ran circles around them. Oars splintering, ships listing and taking on water. Rob Zombie playing over the loudspeakers. You know which song, right? This one. Obviously.
Xerxes: Hook, line, sunk.
War lingered, but it was the beginning of the end for the Persians. Xerxes, who’d put up a golden throne on a nearby mountainside to watch the Greeks get decimated, instead saw his entire fleet go under. It was a major turning point — some say it was the most significant battle of all time. If the Greeks had lost, there’s no telling how much their influence through history would have diminished.
Wall of Fraud
Now why would you hide a bunch of identical ostraka like these? CC BY 2.0 Sharon Mollerus, via Wikimedia Commons
Themistocles eventually falls out of favor with the Athenians — kind of like how Russell Crowe was loved for “Gladiator,” and eventually wound up in that horrible Mummy movie.
The Athenians thought Themistocles had become arrogant. Plutarch writes about mean songs people composed about him. On top of that, the Spartans hated his guts over an incident where he lied about fortifying the Acropolis.
Time for an ostracism. Themistocles? Banished.
Much later, archaeologists found a bunch of ostraka. This isn’t unusual, as they’ve held up nicely over the millennia. What is unusual is this: They were found in a well, and they all had the name of Themistocles on them.
There were 190, and the handwriting showed there were only 14 people who wrote on them. So: maybe fraud, maybe just pre-made ballots for those who couldn’t write — but if that’s the case, I’m not sure why they were stashed in a well.
As for what became of Themistocles after he got the boot, the Spartans made a bunch of accusations and he was put on trial. True or not, he fled…guess where?
Persia.
He ends up learning Persian and working for the king, Xerxes’ son. They hang out and go hunting together. So maybe Themistocles is a horrible traitor who deserved to be thrown out. Or, maybe he’s a guy who did everything he could for his people and made the only move he could when they turned on him.
It seems appropriate to end our tale as it began: Here’s Plutarch, speaking of a story about Themistocles:
”…there are some who say that his father fondly tried to divert him from public life, pointing out to him old triremes on the seashore, all wrecked and neglected, and intimating that the people treated their leaders in like fashion when these were past service.”
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