In November, I walked through the ancient agora of Athens, the "birthplace of democracy", and tried to imagine the thinkers and politicians, playwrights and artists, and countless ordinary people -- citizens and slaves, Greeks and foreigners -- whose feet had walked these same paths, and seen the same vistas.
Of course, that was 2,500 years ago; it's now a ruin. Athenian democracy fell, but its ideals and principles were taken up again in the Enlightenment, forming the basis for its modern form. Yet, on the cusp of 2020, many of us are wondering where our so-called democracies are headed. No political system lasts forever. Most of us were taught that it was the defeat of Athens by Sparta at the end of the Peloponnesian Wars (404 BC) that caused the end of Athenian democracy. Cambridge classical historian Dr. Michael Scott disagreed; he wrote that Athens actually recovered from that defeat, but that democratic ideals irrevocably crumbled later, during the 4th century BC. He says that Athenian democracy fell because of an economic downturn, unpopular foreign wars, and a surge in immigration - a situation very similar to what western democracies face today.
In an effort to remain a major player in world affairs, it abandoned its ideology and values to ditch past allies while maintaining special relationships with emerging powers like Macedonia and supporting old enemies like the Persian King. This "slippery-fish diplomacy" helped it survive military defeats and widespread political turbulence, but at the expense of its political system. At the start of the century Athens, contrary to traditional reports, was a flourishing democracy. By the end, it was hailing its latest ruler, Demetrius, as both a king and a living God.
When people are afraid, they put their faith in demagogues: it's been true forever.
And when the economy is bad, they sell their most valuable assets to foreign investors. (In 2019, Greece concluded a longterm rental of its port, Piraeus, to China, thereby giving Chinese goods a valuable, nearly permanent entry point into the EU. But this is far from the only example.)
Ultimately, the city was to respond positively to some of these challenges. Many of its economic problems were gradually solved by attracting wealthy immigrants to Athens - which as a name still carried considerable prestige.
Democracy itself, however, buckled under the strain. Persuasive speakers who seemed to offer solutions - such as Demosthenes - came to the fore but ultimately took it closer to military defeat and submission to Macedonia. Critically, the emphasis on "people power" saw a revolving door of political leaders impeached, exiled and even executed as the inconstant international climate forced a tetchy political assembly into multiple changes in policy direction.
Well. I hear Cassandra's voice again. But rather than make pessimistic predictions about the future of our governmental institutions, two questions have been foremost in my mind as I look ahead, concerning things over which I actually have some control:
First,"What can I do to make people less afraid?" and second, "How can I give hope?"
We're living in an Age of Anxiety. Some of the causes are absolutely real, and some are greatly exaggerated. Our fears and anxieties are fueled by the media of all kinds, and, as a result, these emotions keep a great many people in a perpetual state of helplessness and despair. It's easy to forget that we all have choices about how much we expose ourselves to the relentless bad news and anxiety-mongering in the mainstream media, and the fraught (or utterly superficial) conversations on social media. Real life still exists, with all of its joys, sorrows, and fascinations, and its persistent call to us to engage fully, and live fully.
I think it's incumbent on all of us in any sort of leadership position to confront, understand, and manage our own anxiety, or we cannot be effective leaders for positive change, so that is one place to start. We need to form groups, both informal and formal, for discussion and action toward positive change in our institutions and communities -- the places where we can make a difference. When we are actually doing something, instead feeling helpless, isolated, and afraid, life begins again, creativity begins again, renewal happens, hope is created, and people are attracted to join us.
And surely, there is a lot that urgently needs to be done and can be done by ordinary people, without the aid or interference of governments.
When I was traveling in Greece, I kept overhearing people at ancient sites saying things like, "Well, my friend likes this, but to me, it's just a pile of rocks," while others were avidly exploring and trying to understand what they were seeing. Life is always like that, I think. We can look out at the ancient agora -- real or metaphoric -- and see ruins built by dead people that are a mere backdrop for yet another selfie, or we can use our imaginations and see beauty, lessons from the past, and potential for the future, which is -- I am quite certain -- the desired legacy of the thinkers and creative people of previous, equally fraught times, who were human beings very much like ourselves.
What inspires you? What fills you with awe? What do you want to see preserved for the future? Where can you give hope, or lend a hand? Where do you need hope and encouragement yourself? How can we help each other in the coming year?
"Where can you give hope?" Thank you for this. Not the question I ask myself most often when I despair.
Posted by: RenKatPowell | January 07, 2020 at 12:26 AM