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Polybius, The Histories (trans. Waterfield), Book Six, Chs. 3-18 (3rd Century C.E.)
[3] In the Greek world, there are states that have grown and then experienced utter collapse, over and over again. It is easy to describe the pasts of such states, and to pronounce on their futures, because reporting known facts is easy, and it is a simple matter to predict the future on the basis of the past. But the same does not go for Rome: the complexity of its constitution makes it rather difficult to describe its condition at present, and too little is known about the characteristics of both public and private life there in the past for it to be easy to predict the future. It takes an unusual amount of attention and reflection before one can clearly pick out its distinctive features.
Most of those who want to educate and instruct us in such matters say that there are three kinds of political system, which they call kingship, aristocracy, and democracy.\ But I think it would be perfectly reasonable to ask these people whether they mean that these are the only constitutions or the best* ones. For in fact, as I see it, in either case they are wrong. After all, there can be no doubt that we should take the best system of government to be the one that combines all three of these constitutions. This is not just a matter of theory: we have actual experience of such a system in the Spartan constitution, which Lycurgus founded along these lines. Nor, on the other hand, can we agree that these three are the only constitutions there are, because we have witnessed in the past monarchic and tyrannical governments, which obviously bear some resemblance to kingship, but at the same time diff er enormously from it. That is why all monarchs cover up the truth and do their best to call themselves kings. Moreover, there have been several varieties of oligarchic constitution, which bore obvious similarities to aristocracy, but in fact differed hugely from it. And the same goes for democracy.
[4] There is excellent evidence to show the truth of what I am saying. Surely we would not want to describe every instance of monarchy as kingship tout court; we reserve the name 'kingship' for monarchy which has the subjects' consent and which governs by rational principles rather than by fear and coercion. Nor should we regard every oligarchy as an aristocracy, a 'rule of the best', unless it is presided over by a select group of supremely moral and wise men. Likewise, we would not describe a system of government as a democracy just because the entire population has the right to follow every whim and inclination. What we call democracy is a system where the majority decision prevails, but which retains the traditional values of piety towards the gods, care of parents, respect for elders, and obedience to the laws.
Our position, then, should be that there are six kinds of constitution*—the three commonly recognized ones I have just mentioned, and three more which are congenital with them: tyranny, oligarchy, and ochlocracy or mob-rule. In the natural, spontaneous course of events, the first system to arise is monarchy,* and this is followed by kingship, but it takes the deliberate correction of the defects of monarchy for it to develop into kingship. Kingship changes into its congenital vice—that is, into tyranny—and then it is the turn of aristocracy, after the dissolution of tyranny. Aristocracy necessarily degenerates into oligarchy, and when the general populace get impassioned enough to seek redress for the crimes committed by their leaders, democracy is born. And in due course of time, once democracy turns to violating and breaking the law, mob-rule arises and completes the series.
The truth of what I have just said will be perfectly clear to anyone who pays attention to the natural beginning, growth, and decline of each of these constitutions. For it is quite impossible to see how any of them grows, peaks, declines, and comes to an end, and when and how and where each of these phases will occur in its turn, unless one sees each constitution as an organic entity. And, in my opinion, this kind of explanation is particularly suitable for the Roman constitution, because its formation and growth have always been natural.
[5] The idea that the constitutions naturally change into one another may have been more precisely detailed by philosophers such as Plato,* but their discussions are too complex and long-winded to be accessible to most people. What I shall try to do, then, is give a brief account of as much of the theory as is relevant to political history and ordinary purposes. Anyone who thinks he has been short-changed by my general presentation will find himself adequately repaid by the detailed account that follows. All his questions will be answered.
What, then, do I mean when I speak of 'beginnings'? Under what circumstances am I claiming that these political systems first arise? Legend has it that in the past the human race has been annihilated by catastrophes such as flood, famine, and crop-failure,* and there is every reason to think that the same will happen in the future too, over and over again. Such catastrophes also entail the simultaneous loss of all the arts and crafts, and so, in due course of time, once the human population has increased again (from the seeds sown, so to speak, by the survivors of the catastrophe), naturally enough they form bands. That is what other animal species do, and it is reasonable to expect that humans too compensate for their natural weakness by herding together with others of their own kind. Under these circumstances, it is inevitable that anyone with exceptional physical strength and mental daring will take command and set himself up as ruler over the rest. Since this is what we see happening in the case of unreasoning animals—because it is obvious and indisputable that in the case of bulls, boars, cocks, and so on the strongest takes command—we must conclude that it is a truly natural function. It seems plausible to suggest, then, that this is what primitive human life too was like—that people formed bands, as animals do, with each band following the strongest and most aggressive man among them. The determinant of these men's rulership was their strength, and that is what we call monarchy.
As for the origins of kingship, after a while there gradually arise within these groups feelings of kinship and intimacy, and then for the first time people acquire the concepts of good and bad, and right and wrong. [6] The way these concepts take root and form is as follows. The urge to mate is a universal, natural instinct, and the result is that children are born. Now, some of these children, after being reared and reaching maturity, fail to defend or otherwise show gratitude towards those who brought them up; on the contrary, they set about speaking ill of them and doing them harm. It is not hard to see that this is likely to displease and offend those of their associates who are aware of the care lavished on them by their parents and the trouble they took to ensure that their children were looked after and fed. For since human beings diff er from other animals in that they alone have rational intelligence, it plainly follows that people are unlikely to overlook this abnormal behaviour, as other animals do. No, they will disapprove of what is happening and the thought that in the future each of them too might find himself at the receiving end of such treatment will aggravate their negative response to the present. Or again, suppose someone in danger receives help and assistance from another person, but fails to show gratitude to his saviour, and in fact sets about doing him harm. It is easy to see that, in all likelihood, those who know what is going on will share the injured party's indignation and imagine the same thing happening to them, and so will find such behaviour displeasing and offensive.
As a result of these situations, a certain conception gradually arises within each individual of the importance of duty, and he begins to reflect upon it.† This is the be-all and end-all of the sense of right and wrong. Or again, if someone takes it upon himself to be the chief defender of everyone in times of danger, by resisting and retaliating against the most aggressive animals, it is likely that the general populace will signify their gratitude and respect for him, while condemning and disapproving of anyone who conducts himself in the opposite way. And it is again reasonable to suppose that this will lead people to reflect on what constitutes bad or good behaviour, and on the difference between the two, and that for utilitarian reasons good behaviour will begin to be admired and imitated, and bad behaviour will be avoided.
If, under these circumstances, the leader of the community, the man with the greatest strength, consistently supports what the general populace has come to think of as good and bad, and his subjects see that he apportions rewards and punishments as appropriate, they stop being frightened of his power, and accept his rule more because they approve of his policies. However old he gets, they work together to preserve his rule and wholeheartedly defend him against the assaults and schemes of those who would put an end to his dominion. In this way, monarchy imperceptibly slides into kingship, when reason replaces forcefulness and strength at the helm.
[7] This is how men first acquire the concepts of good and bad, and right and wrong, and how true kingship begins and develops. I say 'true' kingship, because the common people not only preserve the original king's rule, but also see that it passes down to his descendants, believing that men born from kings and brought up under their influence will share their principles. And from then on, if any of these descendants fails to find favour with them, the criteria they use to choose their rulers and kings are no longer physical strength and forcefulness, but excellence of judgement and intelligence, because by then they have gained first-hand experience of the difference between the two.
In the olden days, anyway, once a man had been chosen as king and had gained this position of authority, he retained it for life. He saw to his subjects' security by fortifying places and enclosing them within walls, and took over land to make sure that they were well supplied with provisions. And as he occupied himself with these matters, no one ever spoke ill of him or resented him, because he did not dress or eat or drink in a way that made him stand out; he lived pretty much like everyone else, and spent all his time in close contact with the general populace.
But kingship was passed down from generation to generation within the same family, and once the kings had made everything as secure as they could and had ensured a more than adequate supply of food, the fact that there was so much of everything tempted them to begin to indulge their appetites. They felt that rulers should dress in a fashion that distinguished them from their subjects, that their food should be presented and prepared in distinctive and elaborate ways, and that they should be allowed total sexual freedom, even to the extent of sleeping with inappropriate partners. This behaviour aroused people's resentment and disgust, which in turn kindled hatred and hostile anger in the kings, and so kingship gave way to tyranny. At the same time the seeds of its dissolution were sown, as conspiracies began to be formed against the tyrants. These conspiracies arose not in the lowest strata of society, but among the most noble, high-minded, and courageous men, because they are the ones who find it hardest to bear insolence from those set over them.
[8] For the reasons I have already mentioned, the common people lent their support to these new champions of theirs in their actions against their leaders, and so kingship and tyranny were wholly obliterated, and a new era of aristocracy began. For the common people immediately repaid their debt, so to speak, to those who had got rid of the tyrants, by deferring to their authority and putting themselves in their hands. At first, these new leaders gladly accepted their assignment. They made the common good their top priority, and managed all the private and public affairs of the general populace responsibly and carefully. But then the sons in their turn inherited this position of authority from their fathers. They had no conception of hardship, and just as little of political equality or the right of any citizen to speak his mind, because all their lives they had been surrounded by their fathers' powers and privileges. And so they either dedicated themselves to rapaciousness and unscrupulous money-making, or to drinking and the non-stop partying that goes with it, or to seducing women and preying on boys, and in the process, they changed aristocracy into oligarchy. Before long, however, it was their turn to arouse those same feelings of resentment and disgust in the general populace that I mentioned a short while ago, leading to the same result: they met with just as catastrophic an end as the tyrants.
[9] What happened was that, sooner or later, someone noticed how his fellow citizens resented and hated the ruling oligarchs, and when he summoned up the courage to speak or act against them, he found that the general populace was ready to back him all the way. They murdered or banished the oligarchs, but then, since fear of past monarchic injustice deterred them from setting up a king, and the recent villainy of the oligarchs dissuaded them from entrusting the government to just a few men, the only remaining untried alternative was for them to rely on themselves. So that was the system they resorted to: they changed the constitution from oligarchy to democracy, and assumed administrative duties and responsibilities themselves.
While those who had experienced oligarchic excess remained alive, they were content with the existing regime and were fully committed to equality of speech and the right of every citizen to speak his mind. But by the time a new crop of young men had been born and democracy was in its third generation, the principles of equal and free speech were too familiar to seem particularly important, and some people began to want to get ahead of everyone else. It was especially the rich who succumbed to this temptation and longed for power. But then, finding that their own resources and merits were not enough to enable them to get what they wanted, they squandered their fortunes on bribing and corrupting the general populace in all sorts of ways. Once this inane hunger for glory had made the common people greedy for such largesse and willing to accept it, democracy in its turn was overthrown, and replaced by violence and government by main force. For once people had grown accustomed to eating off others' tables and expected their daily needs to be met, then, when they found someone to champion their cause—a man of vision and daring, who had been excluded from political office by his poverty they instituted government by force: they banded together and set about murdering, banishing, and redistributing land, until they were reduced to a bestial state and once more gained a monarchic master.
This is the cycle of constitutions, the natural way in which systems of government develop, metamorphose, and start all over again. A clear grasp of the theory may not deliver the ability to make infallible predictions about when some constitutional event will happen in the future, but provided one's judgement is not biased by anger or resentment, one will rarely go wrong about what phase of growth or decline a system has reached, or about what transformation it will undergo next. At any rate, where the Roman constitution is concerned, the theory gives us our best chance of understanding its formation, growth, and prime, and of predicting its future reversal and decline. For, as I said not long ago, the Roman constitution is a superb example of a system whose formation and growth have always been natural, and whose decline will therefore also conform to natural laws. There will be an opportunity later to develop this idea.*
[10] For the time being, however, since it is far from irrelevant to my project, I shall give a brief account of Lycurgus' legislation. Lycurgus understood the inexorability of the natural processes I have been talking about, and realized how precarious every political system is if it is unmixed and uniform, because before long it degenerates into its vicious counterpart, from which it is naturally inseparable. Just as rust is the corruption inherent within iron, and woodworm and grubs are the corruption inherent within timbers, and just as iron and wood, even if they remain unaffected by all external sources of harm, are still destroyed by these things that form within them, in the same way every political system has a source of corruption growing within it, from which it is inseparable. For kingship it is the system we have been calling tyranny, for aristocracy it is oligarchy, and for democracy it is government by brute force. According to the theory I have just outlined, it is inevitable that each of these political systems will finally degenerate into its vicious counterpart.
As a precautionary measure, then, the constitution Lycurgus drew up was not simple and uniform. He bundled together all the merits and distinctive characteristics of the best systems of government, in order to prevent any of them growing beyond the point where it would degenerate into its congenital vice. He wanted the potency of each system to be counteracted by the others, so that nowhere would any of them tip the scales or outweigh the others for any length of time; he wanted the system to last for ever, maintained in a high degree of balance and equilibrium by the principle of reciprocity† . Kings were prevented from becoming overbearing by fear of the citizen body, who were assigned a fair share in government; the common citizens, in their turn, were deterred from disrespecting the kings by fear of the elders, all of whom were bound to cleave constantly to justice, because the criterion for selection for the Council of Elders was virtue. This meant that the part of the system that was at a disadvantage because of its conservatism* would always be reinforced and given added weight by the predilection and inclination of the elders. And the upshot was that the constitution so framed by Lycurgus preserved independence in Sparta longer than anywhere else in recorded history.
Lycurgus used calculation to predict how the nature of each of these systems of government would dictate its beginning and its outcome; he drew up his constitution without having suffered. But in the Romans' case, even though the result was the same, in that they created the same kind of regime for themselves, this was not at all the outcome of reason, but of many struggles and trials. On every occasion, they drew on the knowledge they had gained from their setbacks to make the best choices, and this enabled them to achieve the same result as Lycurgus, and to make theirs the best system of government in the world today. [. . .]
[11] [. . . thirty-two years after -erxes' invasion of Greece. From this time onward, the details were constantly being sorted out, until]† the Roman constitution reached its prime at the time of the Hannibalic War, which is where I broke off my narrative and embarked on this digression. So, now that I have given an account of its formation,* I shall try to explain what it was like at the time when, after the defeat at Cannae, the Romans were at their lowest ebb.
I am sure that people brought up within the Roman constitution will find my description incomplete, since I will pass over certain details.
They have been familiar from childhood with its customs and institutions, and this has given them such complete theoretical and experiential knowledge that, rather than finding the account as it stands impressive, they want to see all the gaps filled as well. The possibility that the writer has deliberately omitted minor topics does not occur to them, and if, for instance, he leaves out the background and subsequent evolution of certain matters, they think that this is due to his ignorance. If I had included these details, they would scarcely have noticed, given that they are trivial and incidental, but they protest at their exclusion as though they were essential. All this is because they want to appear to know more than the author. But a good critic should judge writers by what they write, not by what they leave out. If he finds errors in a book, he is entitled to think that the omissions too are due to ignorance, but if he finds the account to be entirely accurate, he must concede that the omissions too are deliberate, rather than due to ignorance.
So much for those literary critics who would rather show off than be fair. [. . .] Setting also determines whether or not any piece of work deserves approval or disapproval. In a different setting, out of its proper context, even the best and most reliable written work can often appear not only unacceptable, but even unbearable. [. . .]
There were three fundamental building blocks of the Roman constitution—that is, all three of the systems I mentioned above. Each of them was used so equitably and appropriately in the ordering and arrangement of everything that even native Romans were hard put to say for sure whether their constitution was essentially aristocratic, democratic, or monarchic. This is not surprising: the constitution would have appeared monarchic (or a kingship), aristocratic, or democratic, depending on whether one focused attention on the powers of the consuls, the powers of the Senate, or the powers of the common people. The areas of authority that each of these three had—and still have, since the situation has hardly changed nowadays—are as follows.
[12] While the consuls are resident in Rome—that is, before they take their armies out into the fi eld—they are responsible for all matters of public concern, since all the other officers, except the tribunes of the people, are subordinate to them and carry out their orders, and it is they who present envoys to the Senate. They also draw up the agenda of issues requiring the Senate's prompt attention, and are entirely responsible for carrying out the Senate's decrees. Moreover, it is their job to see to all matters of state that require validation by the people, in the sense that they convene assemblies, present bills, and preside over the people's decision-making. As for preparations for war and the overall management of campaigns, the power they have is almost unlimited: they can order allies around as they please, appoint military tribunes, levy troops, and select the best men for particular jobs; they have the right, out in the field, to punish anyone under their command; and they are also entitled to draw as much money from the public purse as they see fit. All this means that, if one focuses attention exclusively on this aspect of the constitution, one might reasonably conclude that it was pure monarchy or kingship. It is possible that some of these functions, or those I shall go on to discuss, will change, in our own times or some time in the future, but that will not affect the validity of this analysis now.
They are accompanied by a quaestor, who is unlikely to refuse their demands.
[13] The Senate's most important role is that it controls the treasury, in the sense that it is responsible for all state revenues and almost all expenditure. With the exception of money withdrawn for use by the consuls, the quaestors must first gain the formal permission of the Senate before spending money for any particular purpose, and the prodigious amount of money spent at fi ve-year intervals by the censors on the repair and construction of public buildings, which is by far the state's greatest expense, is also controlled by the Senate, which makes a grant to the censors. At the same time, all crimes committed in Italy that require public investigation—that is, crimes such as treachery, conspiracy, mass poisoning, and gang murder—fall under the jurisdiction of the Senate; and if any individual or community in Italy requires arbitration or formal censure or emergency assistance or a garrison, all these matters too are the responsibility of the Senate. Moreover, outside Italy, it is the Senate's business to send missions to arbitrate disputes, offer advice, make demands, accept submissions, and declare war; likewise, when missions arrive in Rome from overseas, it is entirely the Senate's job to decide how to treat them and what response to make. None of these matters is the responsibility of the people, and so, once again, a visitor to Rome who arrived when the consuls were away would think that the constitution was thoroughly aristocratic. And in fact this is exactly the impression that is prevalent in Greece and in the royal courts, because almost all their business is handled by the Senate.
[14] After all this, someone might reasonably wonder what role there is left for the people in this system of government, when the Senate is responsible for all the particulars I have mentioned, and most importantly manages all the state's revenues and expenses, and the consuls have plenipotentiary power in the run-up to war and when out fighting campaigns. But the people do have a part to play, and a very important one at that, because they control rewards and punishments. There is no other provision within the constitution for these functions, but without them human life itself has no coherence, let alone governments and constitutions. For when the difference between better and worse is ignored, or when it is recognized but poorly managed, no business that is taken in hand turns out well. How could it, if the bad are honoured no less than the good? So the people assess many of the cases where the penalty for the off ence is a substantial fi ne, especially where the accused have held the highest offices, and all such cases where the penalty is death; and they assign offices to those who deserve them, which, in a political context, is the greatest possible reward for virtue. Then they are responsible for assessing legislation; most importantly, it is they who decide whether or not to go to war; and they also either ratify or abrogate alliances, truces, and treaties. And again, all this means that it would be plausible to suggest that the people's role is paramount, and that the constitution is a democracy.
Where capital cases are concerned, the Romans have an admirable practice which is worth recording. When someone is about to be condemned to death, as long as even one of the tribes that ratify the verdict has not yet cast its vote, it is their custom for him to be allowed to leave, and to do so quite openly. It is as if he were deliberately condemning himself to exile. These exiles find refuge in cities such as Naples, Praeneste, or Tibur, with which the Romans have treaties allowing for this.
[15] Now that I have shown how the three types of political system make up the Roman constitution, I shall go on to explain how each of them is able to work, as it wishes, with or against the other two.
After setting out with his forces, a consul seems to have absolute authority to see his mission through, since he is invested with the powers I have mentioned, but in fact he still needs the people and the Senate. Indeed, he is incapable of concluding his business without them. It goes without saying that he needs a constant stream of supplies for his men—grain, clothing, wages—but this always requires the consent of the Senate. The consul's initiatives will come to nothing, then, if the Senate holds back and is obstructive. Second, the Senate also has the power to facilitate or thwart the completion of a consul's plans and projects, in the sense that, at the end of his year of office, the Senate decides whether to send out his replacement or allow him to remain and retain his command. Third, the Senate has the power to make a glorious spectacle out of any victory a consul wins, or alternatively to play it down and diminish it. For a 'triumph', as they call it, is an opportunity for a consul to display his brilliant achievements before the eyes of his fellow citizens, but a triumph cannot be properly organized, and sometimes cannot be held at all, unless the Senate is willing to fund it.
It is also essential for a consul to take the people into consideration, however far from home he may be, because, as I have already said, they are responsible for ratifying or rejecting truces and treaties, and above all because, on laying aside his office, a consul has to undergo an audit* by the people of his conduct while in office. It is altogether unsafe, then, for consuls to belittle the importance of the goodwill of either the Senate or the general populace.
[16] The Senate too, for all its power, has to pay particular attention to the masses in the political sphere and to defer to the people. Its most far-reaching and important commissions, which investigate and punish political crimes, carrying the death penalty, cannot complete their work unless the people validate the Senate's draft decree. The same goes also for matters that directly affect the Senate: it is the people who decide whether or not to pass into law any proposal that would, for example, deprive the Senate of some of its traditional authority, or abolish senatorial privileges such as the right to the best seats in the theatres, or reduce their incomes. Most importantly, if one of the tribunes of the people uses his veto, not only can the Senate not complete its deliberations, but it is not allowed even to meet or assemble at all. And the tribunes are obliged always to carry out the people's decisions and to defer to their wishes. For all the reasons I have given, then, the Senate is afraid of the masses and cannot disregard the popular assembly.
[17] The people too are in the same situation: they depend on the Senate and are obliged to defer to it. They have to do this not just in the political sphere, but in their private lives as well, because throughout Italy a great many building projects—an almost uncountable number, in fact—are contracted out by the censors for the repair and construction of public buildings. Then there are all the properties that fall under the direct control of the Roman state—rivers, harbours, orchards, mines, farms, and so on—all of which are managed by members of the general populace, so that it is hardly an exaggeration* to say that almost everyone is involved in tendering for these contracts and profiting from them. For there are not only the people who actually buy the contracts from the censors; there are also the principal partners, and those who underwrite the purchase, and those who support the enterprise by mortgaging their property over to the state.
The Senate controls all of this. It can extend the repayment period and, in an emergency, reduce the interest or, if it proves absolutely impossible for the purchaser to fulfil his contract, annul the contract altogether. In fact, there are many ways in which the Senate can do those who manage state-owned property a great deal of harm or a great deal of good, since it has the final say on all these matters. Its most important function in this context is that the judges in most commercial lawsuits, private or public, that involve serious complaints, are drawn from its members. Everyone, then, is inextricably dependent on the Senate, and is faced with the worrying possibility that they might some day need its help, and so they take care not to do anything to frustrate or oppose its will. By the same token, no one likes to oppose the consuls' projects either, because everyone, both individually and collectively, falls under their authority when out on campaign.
[18] To a considerable extent, then, each of the three components of the Roman constitution can harm or help the other two. This enables the whole made up of all three parts to respond appropriately to every situation that arises, and that is what makes it the best conceivable system of government. For example, when a general threat from abroad forces the three estates to cooperate and collaborate, the state gains extraordinary abilities: first, since everyone competes to devise ways to combat the emergency, and everyone cooperates in their public and private capacities to complete the task at hand, there is no contingency that it is incapable of meeting; second, decisions are made and acted on extremely promptly. This gives the Roman state its characteristic feature: it is irresistible, and achieves every goal it sets itself.
Or again, suppose the external threat has been dealt with and, as a result of their victory, they enjoy prosperity and a life of ease and plenty; and suppose that this gradually goes to their heads, and that idleness leads, as it usually does, to arrogance and presumption. Under these circumstances, the way the state helps itself from its own resources would become particularly clear. For suppose one of the estates, thanks to an inflated impression of its own importance, pushes itself forward and tries to gain the upper hand over the others—well, clearly none of them does get inflated or presumptuous, because none of them is self-sufficient, as I have just been explaining, and the designs of each of them can be effectively counteracted and hampered by the others. Everything remains in its assigned place,* then, either because its impetus is checked, or because right from the start it is afraid of being curbed by the others. [. . .]
THE HISTORIES. (n.d.). https://theswissbay.ch/pdf/Books/Ancient%20history/Polybius%20-%20The%20Histories%20-%20Robin%20Waterfield.pdf