Ancient Greek Political Culture

The history of the ancient Greek people finally comes into view during the so-called Age of Tyrants (circa 650–510 b.c.e.). It was a time when elite aristocrats, with their circle of supporters (hetairoi), fought among themselves for political dominance in the various independent city-states (poleis). The non-Greek word “tyrannos” referred to the individual man that defeated his rivals and subsequently forced everybody else to obey his orders. The word did not necessarily have a pejorative connotation at this time; it just referred to the undisputed winner.1

Archaic tyrants did not dominate their poleis for very long. Unique circumstances led to the fall of each regime. But two factors contributed to a common dynamic. First, the sons or grandsons of the original tyrant, once they inherited the tyranny, could not necessarily count on the support of their father’s coalition (hetaireia): the original tyrant earned that support as a result of his leadership in previous political conflicts; his son or grandson did not earn his privileged position and thus lacked credibility. Second, as the Age of Tyrants progressed, it became increasingly common for members of the various poleis to believe that political power should be shared by a large number of men—not monopolized by a single man. As a result, the sons or grandsons of tyrants faced ever-growing opposition to their rule and were eventually overthrown in violent revolutions.

Much longer lasting than the Age of Tyrants was the subsequent idealization and promotion of tyrant killing. Beginning in the late sixth century and continuing until the mid-second century b.c.e., it became increasingly common for Greeks to situate the tyrant and the tyrant killer on the extreme opposite ends of the spectrum of political morality. The tyrant was no longer simply the winner of a political struggle; he was the perpetrator of the greatest imaginable crime of enslaving the entire populace for his personal benefit. The tyrant killer, on the other hand, performed the greatest possible public benefaction: he selflessly risked his own life to assassinate the tyrant in order to liberate his fellow citizens.2 That dichotomy is simple. But, as this chapter will demonstrate, it became a defining characteristic of Greek political culture in general and democratic culture in particular.

I. Creation of the Ideal


The most popular and important act of tyrannicide in ancient Greek history occurred in Athens at the Panathenaic festival of 514. Harmodius and Aristogeiton and their small number of co-conspirators intended to kill Hippias, the tyrant of Athens. Just moments before the two men were about to strike, however, they saw one of their fellow conspirators talking in a friendly manner with the tyrant. Thinking that they had been betrayed and would soon be arrested, they assassinated Hippias’ brother, Hipparchus, against whom they had a personal grievance. Hippias’ mercenaries subsequently killed Harmodius on the spot. And they soon captured, tortured, and killed Aristogeiton.3

That assassination marked the beginning of the end of the tyranny in archaic Athens. Hippias responded quickly. He first killed or exiled his potential enemies and began to rule much more harshly. He also—as a back-up plan—married his daughter to the tyrant of Lampsacus, a man with connections with the powerful Persian king. Those efforts, however, were futile. Athenian exiles, led by the formidable Alcmaeonidae family, continually harassed the regime from their base in northwest Attica. And finally, in 510, they succeeded in securing Spartan military assistance. The tyranny soon fell and an oligarchy was established.4

The supporters of the new oligarchy both idealized and encouraged their supporters to act like Harmodius and Aristogeiton, if necessary, in order to defend the regime. According to Pliny the Elder, they erected statues of the two tyrannicides in 509 b.c.e., almost immediately after the oligarchy’s foundation. We do not know what those statues looked like. But we do know that they were the first statues erected in Athens of particular mortal men. They would thus have been startling conspicuous to everybody who saw them: some people, perhaps many, personally knew the two men. But the message that they advertised to all Athenians was more important: tyrant killing—that is acting like Harmodius and Aristogeiton—is equivalent to the celebrated acts of the divine heroes.5

In addition to the revolutionary act of erecting their statues, supporters of the new regime sang songs whereby they explicitly promised to act “just like Harmodius and Aristogeiton.” Four so-called tyrannicide skolia are preserved in the text of a late second-century c.e. Greek author. Here is one song.

I will carry my sword [xiphos] in a myrtle branch
just like Harmodius and Aristogeiton
when they killed the tyrant
and made Athens a place of equality under law [isonomia].6
Although we cannot be certain, it is most likely that Athenian men originally sang this and the other tyrannicide skolia in symposia (drinking parties), perhaps initially while they were in exile and then later after they gained control of Athens and established their oligarchy. Particularly important here, however, is the fact that the singer of the skolion pledges to his “audience” that he will act “just like Harmodius and Aristogeiton.” And it is quite likely that he somehow acted like the tyrannicides when he sang: thus “I will carry my sword.” We should thus consider these songs to be commitment mechanisms—a means for men to demonstrate to their fellow comrades that they, too, will risk their life for the cause of liberty (isonomia). We catch a glimpse in these songs of the anti-tyranny, revolutionary fervor in Athens at that time.

The tyrannicide ideal retained its importance in Athenian political culture after the demos seized control of the polis and founded its democracy (508/7 b.c.e.). Most significantly, supporters of the new regime erected in the agora new bronze statues (made, this time, by Critius and Nesiotes) of Harmodius and Aristogeiton in 477/6, shortly after the Athenians’ victory in the Persian War.7 Unlike the earlier statues made by Antenor, we know—from later Roman versions made out of stone—what they looked like.8 Both men are heroically nude and depicted in the act of advancing on and killing Hipparchus. Aristogeiton thrusts his sword-bearing left hand forward, his arm parallel to the ground. Harmodius holds his sword in his raised right hand, about to strike a downward blow. The depiction of Harmodius became particularly popular in Athenian public iconography. B. B. Shefton (and others since him) has called it the “Harmodius blow.”9

As several scholars have also concluded, a central function of these statues was to encourage citizens of the new democratic regime to emulate the actions of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, if necessary. The agora was Athens’s civic center, a place where the Athenians conducted important political work. The powerful council (boule), for example, met in the agora and votes for ostracism were held there. These statues demonstrated—and thus sought to instill—the correct attitude of all of those present during such activities: citizens of the new regime must be vigilant, willing to strike down a fellow citizen who seriously threatens the democracy. Josiah Ober put it well, writing that the statues depict “democratically correct” behavior.10

A few decades after the Persian War, perhaps in the 440s, the Athenian demos decreed that the oldest living descendants of Harmodius and Aristogeiton should be honored in perpetuity with public meals in the prytaneion.11 We do not know what particular event, if any, inspired this act of public generosity. Indeed, we do not know a lot about Athens’s domestic politics at this time. We do know, however, that somebody (perhaps Pericles) thought it politically expedient to make the proposal and that the matter was subsequently discussed and debated in the citizen assembly. I suspect, but cannot prove, that at least one rationale was to ensure that the tyrannicide ideal would be embraced and thus kept viable by citizens born decades after the democratic revolution of 508/7. It was an attempt, that is, to prevent the members of the current generation from taking the survival of their democracy for granted.

The promotion of tyrannicide intensified greatly during the last two decades of the fifth century. Many Athenians at that time questioned the viability of the democracy: the democracy brought the city to war with the Spartans, during which everybody was forced to live within the city’s walls. Pro-democrats became increasingly concerned that their political opponents—who by this time they called tyrants—were conspiring to overthrow the democracy; thus the heavy emphasis on tyrannicide at this time.

Cleon, the infamous demagogue, stoked fears of a tyrannical threat in order to intimidate critics of the democracy and thus increase his influence with the masses. Aristophanes mocked that dynamic in his Wasps, a comedy performed in 422. In lines 488–495, a man named Hatecleon (obviously an opponent of Cleon) laments to the chorus of ardent pro-democrats and Cleon supporters:

How you see tyranny and conspirators everywhere, as soon as anyone voices a criticism large or small! I hadn’t even heard of the word being used for at least fifty years, but nowadays it’s cheaper than sardines. Look how it’s bandied about in the marketplace [agora]. If someone buys perch but doesn’t want sprats, the sprat seller next door pipes right up and says, “This guy buys fish like a would-be tyrant.”12

It is important to recall that the statues of Harmodius and Aristogeiton stood conspicuously in the agora, right where this outburst was to have taken place. The audience, I believe, is thus invited to suppose that those statues inspired the sprat seller—a Cleon supporter—to combat all apparent tyrannical threats and defend the democracy.

The disastrous invasion of Sicily (415–413 b.c.e.) accelerated the dynamic considerably. Even before the ships set sail, the Athenians awoke to discover that stone statues called Herms had been systematically destroyed throughout the city. Thucydides wrote that the Athenians thought that it was the work of a “tyrannical and oligarchic conspiracy” and immediately conducted a hysterical witch-hunt, believing all accusations, however incredible.13 And we learn from another contemporary (Andocides) that, after preliminary inquiries, the council actually ordered a military mobilization to defend the ruling regime.14 The destruction of the Herms was not the work of an anti-democratic conspiracy. But two large-scale and successful tyrannical conspiracies were just around the corner. The first occurred in 411, in the wake of the Sicilian disaster, and brought to power the Four Hundred.15 The second occurred in 404, after the Athenians surrendered to the Spartans; it brought to power the infamous “Thirty Tyrants.”

I now highlight three important moments that demonstrate the significance of tyrannicide ideology in Athenian political culture during the turbulent final few years of the fifth century. They collectively suggest that there was a public dialogue on the efficacy of acting like Harmodius and Aristogeiton to defend the democracy.

First, in his Lysistrata—a comedy staged less than six months before the coup of the Four Hundred—Aristophanes ridiculed the ideal of acting “just like Harmodius and Aristogeiton” as a way to resist tyranny and defend democracy. The comedy’s famous plot centers on a sex strike organized by women from various poleis in order to force their husbands to end the Peloponnesian War. The following lines (630–635) depict the moment that the comedy’s male chorus leader believes that he has discovered the women’s actual intention.

Actually, this plot they weave against us, gentlemen, aims at tyranny! Well, they’ll never tyrannize over me: from now on I’ll be on my guard, I’ll “carry my sword [xiphos] in a myrtle branch” and go to the market [agora] fully armed right up beside Aristogeiton. I’ll stand beside him like this: that way I’ll be ready to smack this godforsaken old hag right in the jaw!16

The humor of this passage lies in the fact that the male chorus leader intends to literally act like Harmodius. He first quotes the tyrannicide skolion discussed above: “I’ll carry my sword in a myrtle branch.” He then poses like the statue of Harmodius. This is indicated, first, by his statement that he will “go to the agora” “right up beside Aristogeiton”: the statue of Harmodius was in the agora and right by the statue of Aristogeiton. Also, his intention to stand “like this” indicates that he is posing like the statue of Harmodius while delivering his lines: as we noted above, the so-called Harmodius blow was very popular in Athenian public iconography. Aristophanes is clearly mocking the pro-democrats’ knee-jerk appeal to tyrannicide.

Second, after the downfall of the regime of the Four Hundred and the restoration of the democracy (June 410), all Athenians swore a public oath to act like Harmodius and Aristogeiton in order to defend their democracy against any subsequent attempts at a coup. This is the so-called oath of Demophantus, the text of which is apparently quoted verbatim in sections 96–98 of Andocides’ speech titled On the Mysteries.17 In part of it they pledged the following:

If it be in my power, I will slay by word and by deed, by my vote and by my hand, whosoever shall suppress the democracy at Athens, whosoever shall hold any public office after its suppression, and whosoever shall attempt to become tyrant or shall help to install a tyrant.… And if anyone shall lose his life in slaying such an one or in attempting to slay him, I will show to him and to his children the kindness which was shown to Harmodius and Aristogeiton and to their children.

This oath should be interpreted as a rejection of Aristophanes’ dismissal of the efficacy of tyrannicide in the modern (i.e., late fifth century) democracy. Athenian pro-democrats believed that their regime would, in fact, be preserved if citizens were willing to act “just like Harmodius and Aristogeiton”: they put it in law.

Third, after Athenian pro-democrats overthrew the Thirty Tyrants (403), the demos appears to have publicly declared that the hated regime fell because citizens had acted like Harmodius and Aristogeiton. The most explicit evidence is quite late: Philostratus, in chapter 4 of book 7 of his Life of Apollonius, states that songs were sung at Athens’s Panathenaea celebrating the leaders of the resistance to the Thirty along with Harmodius and Aristogeiton; and Plutarch, in chapter 16 of his Life of Aratus, calls the effort to overthrow the Thirty an act of tyrant killing (tyrannoktonia).18 Only slightly less explicit—and, importantly, contemporary to the overthrow of the Thirty—are the vase paintings on the Panathenaic amphoras from 402. The basic picture is similar to all such amphoras: the goddess Athena, with a shield in one hand and a spear in the other, is advancing upon an unseen enemy. For the Panathenaic amphoras of 402, the demos decreed that the image of the statues of Harmodius and Aristogeiton be painted on Athena’s shield.19 The interpretation of the vase painting is straightforward: Athens (here = democracy) defends itself because its citizens act like Harmodius and Aristogeiton.

By the end of the fifth century, the idealization of acting like Harmodius and Aristogeiton was a central component of Athenian democratic political culture. It is, indeed, quite remarkable to consider the wide array of public media within which the two were praised. Anti-democrats sought to discredit that effusive praise both by pointing out that the two men did not kill a tyrant and by suggesting that, in any case, they were motivated by selfish personal reasons.20 But their arguments did not matter: pro-democrats believed that Harmodius and Aristogeiton founded the democracy by an act of tyrannicide and that the subsequent defense of that regime required citizens to be willing to act just like them.

II. Diffusion of the Ideal


Although there is some evidence for the promotion of tyrannicide outside of Athens during the fifth century, its diffusion became prominent starting in the fourth century.21 I will now focus on three distinct historical periods—each of which was important in the history of ancient Greek democracy—when Athenian-style tyrannicide ideology was heavily promoted outside Athens. The analysis is selective, but it contains the most significant examples and identifies the major dynamics involved.

Athenian-Led Resistance to Philip II of Macedon

The rise of Macedon under the leadership of Philip II was the most consequential dynamic in Greek history during the late classical period. Since the foundation of the Argead dynasty in the late ninth century, Macedon had been a relatively weak power: it was often pushed around by states such as Persia, Athens, and Thebes, and the neighboring Illyrian tribes frequently invaded it. But that changed soon after Philip assumed the throne of Macedon in 359. He quickly defeated his enemies in the north of the Aegean peninsula. And he then turned his attention to the Greek poleis in the south.

Demosthenes, Athens’s great orator and influential leader at the time, advocated a vigorous, pro-active policy to defeat the growing tyrannical threat before it was too late. He first urged his fellow citizens to be aware of and then counter the tyrannical/pro-Macedonian threat in their own city. Second, he traveled to several Greek poleis in order to forge an Athenian-led anti-Macedonian coalition. We happen to know what he told the Messenians, Argives, and Arcadians in 344: pro-Macedonian would-be tyrants are a serious threat to their freedom; tyrants are by nature enemies of freedom and the rule law; the only real bulwark against tyranny is mistrust; the tyranny threat grows stronger every day that it is unopposed. We cannot say for certain, but he quite likely delivered that same basic message in his other diplomatic trips throughout the Greek peninsula.22

The Athenians’ invasion of the island of Euboia (late spring/early summer 341) was the result of what might be called the “Demosthenes doctrine.” Several months earlier, pro-Macedonians staged anti-democratic coups in the cities of Oreus and Eretria. In speeches delivered subsequently in the Athenian assembly, Demosthenes repeatedly referred to the coup leaders in both cities as tyrants. And he asserted that Philip supported those coups in order to acquire bases from which he may attack Athens. The Athenians were convinced. Pursuant to a decree moved by Demosthenes himself, an Athenian-led coalition launched pre-emptive strikes against the regimes of both cities. They killed both cities’ tyrants and then established democracies.23

After the Athenian-led invasion, the citizens of Eretria promulgated a tyrant-killing law, the earliest known such law to have been promulgated outside of Athens. Here is a translation of the badly preserved and thus heavily restored lines 4–8.

The tyrant, his offspring, and whoever makes an attempt at tyranny shall be without rights. And whoever kills the tyrant’s partisan or the tyrant, if he is a citizen… shall be given to him… and stand near the alter his… bronze statue. And he shall have a front seat at the festivals that the polis sponsors and public maintenance [sitesis] in the town hall as long as he lives.24

This law was part of a broader Athenian-led effort to secure Eretria’s recently reinstated democracy against future attacks by pro-Macedonians. As one part of that effort, the Athenians ratified a treaty whereby they pledged to defend Eretria’s new democracy from attacks by its domestic enemies.25 Henceforth, Eretrian pro-Macedonians had to factor into their decision calculus whether they could overcome both the Eretrian pro-democrats and any forces that the Athenians might provide. The Athenians, however, were heavily involved elsewhere in the Greek world in order to oppose Philip and thus might not be able assist Eretria’s pro-democrats. Anti-democrats, therefore, might deem it worth the risk to stage another coup. In order to counter such an attempt, Eretrian pro-democrats promulgated their tyrant-killing law, no doubt after receiving advice from the Athenians.

In the spring of 336, some eighteen months after Philip defeated the Athenian-led coalition at the battle of Chaeronea, the Athenians promulgated for themselves another tyrant-killing law, called the law of Eucrates. It predictably echoes the decree of Demophantus. Here is a translation of lines 7–11.

If anyone rises up against the demos for a tyranny or helps establish the tyranny or overthrows the demos of Athens or the democracy at Athens, whoever kills a man who has done any of these things shall be undefiled.26

The promulgation of Eucrates’ law testifies to the desperate situation in Athens after the battle of Chaeronea. Demosthenes, as we have seen, had asserted for years that a small number of Athenian citizens were plotting to overthrow their democracy and subject the city to Macedonian rule. The loss at Chaeronea provided those men a greater opportunity and the added encouragement to strike. The Athenians responded to the threat by promulgating a tyrant-killing law. They thus did for themselves what they advised other lesser powers. After Chaeronea, all cities were in the same boat.

The evidence discussed above suggests that the promotion of tyrannicide played an important role in the Athenian-led effort to combat Macedonian imperialism. The Athenians, as we have seen, defined the threat as “tyranny” and thus sought to gather an anti-tyranny coalition to fight it. And they naturally saw tyrant killing as the means to defeat the threat in particular poleis. The Greek peninsula at the end of the classical period was thus bristling with anti-tyranny and tyrannicide rhetoric. We might say that acting like Harmodius and Aristogeiton was considered to be crucial to the survival of the old order.

Early Hellenistic Western Asia Minor

Alexander the Great’s conquest of western Asia Minor was one of the most important events in the history of ancient Greek democracy. Before the invasion, the cities in that region were under Persian control and governed directly by some form of oligarchy or tyranny. As part of his imperial strategy, however, Alexander consistently supported pro-democrats in the various cities—men who were committed anti-Persians—and thus promoted democracy. And, quite remarkably, democracy subsequently became a normal regime type for the Greek cities in Asia Minor for generations.27

Alexander heavily promoted anti-tyranny and tyrant-killing ideology during his conquests. We know, for example, that he publicly referred to pro-Persian partisans in the various Greek cities as tyrants. We also know that he issued an anti-tyranny proclamation in 331, after the battle of Gaugamela. According to Plutarch, he “wrote to the states saying that all tyrannies are now abolished and that henceforth they might live under their own laws.” And finally, he either conspicuously returned, or publicly promised to return to Athens the original statues of Harmodius and Aristogeiton that had been stolen by Xerxes’ troops during the Persian War.28

As would be expected, the epigraphic record of several cities in Asia Minor bears witness to Alexander’s promotion of (Athenian-style) tyrannicide and anti-tyranny ideology. I will now highlight two interesting inscribed texts, from two very different cities in two very different regions.

The first text is a tyrant-killing law from Ilion—the site of legendary Troy—that dates to circa 280. It is exceptionally complex and thorough—150 lines survive more or less intact. For our purposes, it is important to note that it echoes the defining language found in the decree of Demophantus (and, subsequently, in the law from Eretria and the law of Eucrates): “whoever kills a tyrant, a leader of an oligarchy, or someone overthrowing the democracy” (lines 19–21). The law then lists the rewards that would be given to a tyrannicide (lines 21–53) according to his status:

• Citizen: he shall receive a talent of silver, free meals in the prytaneion, public heralding to a front row seat in civic events, two drachmas everyday for the rest of his life, and a bronze statue in his likeness will be erected.
• Free foreigner: he shall receive the same rewards given to a citizen tyrannicide and will be given citizenship, enrolled in whatever tribe he wants.
• Slave: he will be freed, permitted to participate in the regime, and will receive both a lump sum payment of thirty minai (half a talent) and a daily stipend of one drachma.
• Fellow soldier of the tyrant: provided that he subsequently helps establish a democracy, he will be pardoned for his crimes and receive a talent of silver.29
The Ilian law extends the logic of honoring tyrannicides to its extreme. Tyrant killing is dangerous: Harmodius and Aristogeiton famously died. Democratic regimes thus promised great rewards to a tyrannicide in order to alter an individual’s decision calculus such that he might consider it to be worthwhile to strike down an autocrat. It makes sense, then, to directly incentivize as many people as possible—to make the pool of potential tyrannicides as large as possible. The people of Ilion incentivized everybody except the tyrant himself. As a result, wherever the tyrant or leader of an oligarchy went, he would be around people incentivized to kill him. And that increased the likelihood that he will be killed.

The second text is a decree of the demos from Erythrae. It likely was promulgated in the early Hellenistic period, perhaps around 280 b.c.e., although scholars have dated it to the late 330s or shortly after 301. I quote the most important part of this text (lines 1–16).

It was resolved by the council and the demos. Zoilos the son of Chiades proposed: since the members of the oligarchy took away the sword [xiphos] from the statue, which was a portrait of Philites the tyrant killer, thinking that the erection of the statue was a protest against themselves… it was resolved by the council and the demos that… it shall be completed [i.e., repaired] as it was previously… and the statue will be free of patina and will be crowned always at the festivals of the first of the month and at the other festivals.30

We learn from this inscription that both sides in an extended civil war considered the manipulation of the statue of Philites—a statue that clearly echoed the Athenians’ statue of Harmodius31—to play an important role in the defense of its regime. The oligarchs used the statue to advertise to all Erythraeans that pro-democracy resistance is futile. The tyrannicide with his sword conspicuously removed (and gathering patina) is a monument to futility and humiliation. And recent events backed up the oligarchs’ message: oligarchs controlled the city, having overthrown the democracy. If people suspected that their fellow citizens believed that message, it would be quite difficult to form a credible pro-democracy resistance movement: individuals would not join because they would doubt that a sufficient numbers of other individuals would join. The democrats, on the other hand, used the statue of Philites to advertise that pro-democracy resistance is, in fact, effective. The statue once again depicts an effective revolutionary leader—a fact that would have been repeatedly emphasized in the annual crowning rituals. And, as was the case of when the oligarchs controlled the statue, recent events supported the pro-democrats’ version of history: democrats did successfully overthrow the oligarchy, no doubt viewing the coup as a collective act of tyrannicide. If that view were widely perceived to be credible, individual pro-democrats would be more likely to join an anti-tyranny movement in the future. And the democracy would thus be more secure.

The evidence presented above suggests that the encouragement of tyrant killing played a significant role in the defense of the newly established democracies of Hellenistic Asia Minor. Alexander advertised it widely throughout the region. And we see effects of that promotion in the epigraphic record of the cities of the region. This is quite ironic, of course. As we saw above, acts of tyrannicide were encouraged throughout the Aegean peninsula to defend democracies against Macedonian imperialism. Not long thereafter, however, Alexander promoted it in Asia Minor to support democracy and thus secure his imperial ambitions. And the ideology stuck.

Mid-Third to Mid-Second-Century Peloponnesus

The Achaean League, a federal state centered in the northwest Peloponnesus, was a power of some significance from the mid-third century until the Romans sacked Carthage in 146 b.c.e. It was formed—reformed, actually—in 280, in order to oppose the Macedonian-supported tyrants that controlled many of the towns in the region: the citizens of several towns concluded that they were powerless to counter the tyranny threat unless they drew upon their collective strength and formed a single state. The small towns of Patrae, Dyme, Tritaea, and Pharae made the first move to forge the union. Other towns subsequently joined, beginning with Aegium in 275/4.32

League members considered their federal state to be democracy. There is epigraphic evidence for that fact, and the Greek historian Polybius, himself born into a prominent league family, proudly asserts it, praising the league’s embrace of the democratic ideals of isegoria and parrhesia (equality and freedom of speech, respectively).33 Their democracy, however, was not like that of Athens or of the other polis democracies: the league required that men be at least thirty years old to participate; citizens received pay neither for attending assemblies nor holding offices. Nevertheless, all citizens of the league could vote for federal offices. And each member state of the league sent a number of men proportionate to its own population size to the powerful council.

In what might be considered to be its grand strategy, the Achaean League sought to acquire, by persuasion or by force if necessary, control of the entire Peloponnesus. Polybius predictably put a good spin on it, asserting that the league sought to extend liberty throughout the region. Whether their motives were idealistic, self-serving, or both, the league vigorously pursued that goal. They overthrew or killed several tyrants that opposed them.34 And several other tyrants, seeing the fate that awaited them, abdicated their power, sometimes even becoming generals in the league.35 The league finally achieved its goal in 191 (consolidated in 183): albeit after allying with larger powers, it controlled the whole Peloponnesus. It was, wrote Polybius, “the most glorious deed.”36

The three most prominent leaders of the Achaean League—all of them generals (strategoi)—were renowned tyrant killers. The first is Margus of Caryneia. We know very little about him. But we know that he killed the tyrant of Bura in 275/4 and subsequently joined that city to the recently refounded Achaean League. Importantly, that is the first known act of tyrannicide in the league’s history. And we also know that two decades later, in 255/4, Margus became the first member of the league to be elected sole general (strategos)—before that date, the league annually elected two stragetoi. We should thus conclude that members of the league considered Margus to be a role model, a man who set the standard for others to follow. He was, first of all, a revolutionary pioneer of the league, a man who actually killed a tyrant in order to advance freedom. But also he was a statesman who could be entrusted with power without abusing it.37

The second great leader was Aratus of Sicyon, the most famous and historically significant member of the Achaean League. He deposed Nicocles, the tyrant of Sicyon, in 251/0 at the age of twenty and then joined the city to the then fledgling Achaean League. The citizens of Sicyon subsequently erected a statue of him in gratitude; it is likely, but not certain, that he was depicted as a tyrant killer. Later in life he was elected strategos every other year (consecutive terms being unconstitutional), famous for his fierce opposition to tyrants while he increased the strength and influence of the league. When he died, the people of Sicyon initiated a hero cult in his honor.38

The last great leader of the Achaean League was Philopoemen of Megalopolis. He spent his formative years under the careful guidance of two well-known liberators and tyrant killers, Ecdemus and Demophanes, men famous for (inter alia) having killed Aristodemus, the tyrant of Megalopolis and having joined Aratus in the famous liberation of Sicyon. It was thus to be expected that Philopoemen would seek to become a glorious tyrannicide/liberator too. And he had his chance in the famous confrontation with Machanidas, the tyrant of Sparta, at the battle of Mantinea (207 b.c.e.). Polybius tells us that Philopoemen stalked the tyrant during the battle, seeking an opportunity to strike him down. When he found the opportunity, he killed him heroically with his own hand. The Achaeans subsequently erected a statue in Delphi of him in the act of killing the tyrant Machanidas. And when he died, he received—like the tyrannicide Aratus—a hero cult.39

The tyrant killer obviously enjoyed an exulted status in the Achaean League. That is not terribly surprising, since the league was, in part, an anti-tyranny enterprise. Indeed, opposition to tyranny was one of its unifying elements. What is surprising, however, is that so many men of the league were celebrated as tyrant killers: Margus, Aratus, Philopoemen, Ecdemus, and Demophanes. And there no doubt were others.40 Having killed a tyrant in fact appears to have been a sure way—perhaps the surest way—to achieve prominence in the league. And that observation alone provides significant insight into the violent and ideologically charged political culture of the Peloponnesus during the third century.

IV. Explanation for the Ideal’s Popularity


I have demonstrated in the previous section that the promotion and practice of tyrant killing became a dominant component of democratic thought and action throughout much of the ancient Greek world. How can we account for that popularity? As a partial explanation, I suggest two complementary factors: tyrannicide was both effective and non-problematic.

Tyrannicide as Effective

A crucial determinant for the survival of an ancient Greek democracy was the capability of its supporters to mobilize in response to a coup d’état. Greek poleis did not have institutions staffed by full-time professionals charged with protecting their regime: they did not have, for example, an FBI or a DHS. Instead, the viability of their regimes came down to whether or not a sufficient number of citizens—mostly farmers and artisans—would act in concert to defend them against a coup. If a sufficient number of people acted in defense, the demos would have the power (kratos) to control the polis and thus to maintain its democracy. If a sufficient number did not do so, anti-democrats would assume control of the city and impose an oligarchy or tyranny.

The logic is simple, but effecting a sufficiently large pro-democracy mobilization in a revolutionary situation is very difficult. Anti-democrats—like today—knew how to use intimidation and misinformation to terrorize the majority into silence. They knew, that is, how to convince individual pro-democrats that, if they act to defend their regime, other pro-democrats will not follow them (and that they will thus be punished for their revolutionary act). Thus, in the event of a coup, individual pro-democrats would not act, although they want to: each person is afraid that he would be killed without accomplishing anything and therefore waits for people to act before he does. Pro-democrats would thus have had what we might call a “revolutionary coordination problem.”

I suggest that pro-democrats promoted tyrannicide because it would help them overcome a revolutionary coordination problem and thus defend their democracy against a coup d’état. The tyrant killer performs the all-important act of “going first.” His public act then convinces brave individuals to follow him. And the actions of those individuals, in turn, convince yet other individuals to join—they believe that others will follow them too. The chain reaction continues. Eventually, pro-democrats would know that they have sufficient support to defend their regime and would thus draw upon their collective strength and oppose the coup.

The bandwagon dynamic of tyrannicide was harnessed in tyrant-killing law—an institution invented, as we have seen, in Athens with the decree of Demophantus and then promulgated elsewhere. Such legislation directly incentivized individuals to kill tyrants, of course. But the promulgation of the law also generated common knowledge of widespread credible commitment to act in defense of the regime. As a result of the law’s promulgation, that is, everybody knew that everybody knew that everybody knew (and so on) that a majority of the population likely would act to oppose an anti-democratic coup. Pro-democrats, therefore, would take the risk to act in defense of their regime earlier than they otherwise would have: they believe that others will follow them because those others believe that yet others will follow them. Thus, after a tyrant killer strikes down the tyrant, people would join in the resistance in ever-greater numbers, more joining as they see that people have already joined. And if that dynamic were expected, anti-democrats would be deterred from staging a coup in the first place.

The effectiveness of tyrannicide in ancient Greece is not theoretical. There are several examples of such acts (pursuant to the promulgation of a tyrant-killing law or not) leading to a mobilized response in defense of a democracy. The resistance to the Thirty Tyrants in Athens was particularly famous (section I of this chapter). But the tyrant-killing revolutions at Thebes in 379 and Rhodes in 395 were also celebrated, as were several revolutions associated both with Timoleon’s campaigns in Sicily in the late 340s and, as we saw in section II, with the Achaean League. The widespread proliferation of tyrant-killing law and ideology itself suggests that tyrannicide was considered to be effective: ideas and institutions tend to proliferate if they are effective. In fact, it is not too much of a stretch to conclude that the widespread promotion of tyrant killing contributed to the persistence of democracy in parts of the ancient Greek world.41

Tyrannicide as Non-Problematic

In addition to being effective, tyrannicide was not considered to be problematic. First—and as noted in the beginning of this chapter—most Greeks of the classical period and subsequent eras considered the tyrant to be a criminal.42 The theoretical justification for that position is that the tyrant had stolen control of the polis and thus enslaved its rightfully free citizens. Greeks do not appear to have embraced the view that some autocrats, let alone illegitimate or “tyrannical” ones, ruled by divine right. But there were also practical justifications for the idea that the tyrant was a criminal, since he and his supporters almost certainly committed atrocities in order to obtain and maintain power. An inscription from late fourth-century Eresos, for example, lists the crimes that their tyrant had committed: he confiscated money from the citizens (no doubt to pay his mercenaries); he killed and exiled citizens; he defiled holy places; he outraged women. Such crimes were typically associated with tyrants and tyranny.43

Second, it was common practice in the Greek world for supporters of the ruling regime to declare that anybody might lawfully kill one of its own citizens, if he had engaged in anti-regime, revolutionary activity (i.e., a crime against the state). Such declarations typically included the guilty man’s extended family (genos). And the regime sometimes promised a monetary reward to whoever killed the accused individual.44 The objective of these pronouncements was both to deter men from engaging in anti-regime activity and to raise the risk involved (and thus difficulty) for those already declared to be outlaws to attack the regime once again. The practice is significant for this chapter, however, because it indicates that the Greeks were generally comfortable with the state (the polis) outsourcing acts of violence to anonymous and unofficial agents.

The two factors just mentioned facilitated a rather straightforward, non-problematic view of tyrannicide. Tyrants are bad criminals and killing them is good—that is essentially what most Greeks thought. Complicating factors were largely, if not totally, absent.45 To vividly underscore that fact, I here quote Plutarch’s account of the execution of Hippo, the tyrant of Messana (in Sicily). The quote is from chapter 34 of his Life of Timoleon.

The Messanians took him into the theater, brought their children thither from their schools to behold, as a glorious spectacle, the tyrant’s punishment, and they put him to torment and death.

V. Conclusion


The widespread celebration and promotion of tyrannicide is a testament to the Greeks’ love of political freedom. The tyrant killer was not honored simply because he killed an autocrat. He was honored because, by killing the autocrat, he returned political power to the citizens, the rightful owners of that power. Those citizens could then actualize their true nature as “political animals” (to quote Aristotle) and assume control of their polis’ political destiny.46 Such a mentality would have been unthinkable in states with an autocratic tradition, where the idea of citizen rule had no purchase.

It is thus not surprising to discover that the promotion of tyrannicide waned significantly after genuine political freedom was no longer a realistic possibility for the Greeks. Arguments from silence are dangerous, of course. But there is no known tyrant-killing law that postdates Rome’s conquest of Greece. And I am unaware of any literary source that reports an episode of genuine tyrant killing that occurred after that momentous event. The primary reason, I suggest, is quite straightforward: after the sack of Corinth, the Romans directly controlled the Greeks’ political destiny. Henceforth, the Greeks were part of a massive empire; real power did not lie in the various poleis, but in the city of Rome. Tyrannicide in a Greek polis would thus be futile.

A fictitious speech entitled The Tyrannicide, composed by the Greek rhetorician Lucian (circa 120–180 c.e.), underscores the fall of tyrannicide as a practical act.47 It purports to be a speech delivered in a law court by a man who intended to kill a tyrant, but killed the tyrant’s son instead, leaving the sword in his body. The actual tyrant subsequently discovered his son’s body, removed the sword and killed himself because he was so overcome with grief. The son’s assassin—the man purportedly delivering the fictitious speech—thus argues that he should be rewarded as a tyrant killer: his act, he maintains, ultimately caused the tyrant to kill himself. The speech is clever and meant to impress with its twisted logic. But it is a fake speech about an absurd and fake situation. The act of tyrannicide was reduced to a rhetorical topos chock-full of well-worn clichés about freedom, democracy, and tyranny. The days of acting like Harmodius and Aristogeiton in any meaningful way were long over.

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