John T. Fitzgerald
There were originally two chief financial centers in the ancient Levantine and Mediterranean world. These were the temple and the palace, and their coexistence as financial institutions occurred at a time when the separation of “church” and “state” was nonexistent. There were important overlaps between these two institutions, and one of these overlaps involved taxation. As Leo Oppenheim (1947: 118) argued long ago in regard to Mesopotamia, “the secular authorities collected tax payments, dues, etc., in the same way as did the temple organization.”1 Furthermore, both institutions received mandatory payments as well as offerings that were more or less voluntary. This overlap between temple and palace was especially conspicuous in the ancient Near East, where tithes and taxes were often paid in “silver, commodity staples (barley, dates, sesame), sheep, or other animals” (Stevens, 2006: 99), and where state and temple revenues could also include conscripted labor. Many of the same overlaps between the state and its religious groups also existed in both Greece and Rome, with public and sacred finances often intertwined in various ways (Migeotte, 1998; 2006; Dignas, 2002), and with temples on occasion even extending loans to the state (Pritchard, 2012).
Given these facts, it is not surprising that there was also a terminological overlap. Today, we routinely use different terms to distinguish between the assets directed to these two institutions. We tend to call the mandatory payments made to the temple a “tithe” and the compulsory payments to the palace a “tax.” Voluntary offerings directed to the temple and palace are both called “gifts.” Ancient nomenclature, however, was often far messier and not clearly differentiated. As Marty Stevens has correctly noted (2006: 7), in ancient texts “taxes were due to the temple, tithes were presented to the palace, gifts were owed to the king, predetermined amounts of tribute were paid annually, the state appropriated gifts to the temple, and the temple made use of gifts destined for the crown.”2 Furthermore, socioeconomic considerations were sometimes operative in the terminology employed. “Peasants paid ‘taxes’ and the nobility gave ‘gifts,’” with commodities given as taxes and prestige goods accepted as gifts (Stevens, 2006: 100).3 In this kind of institutional context, “gifts were calculated and obligatory, [and] … were, in fact, forms of taxation or remuneration” (Claessen, 1989: 48).
The practices of levying taxes and exacting tribute were well established in the ancient world long before the time of classical antiquity. Indeed, cultural anthropologist Henri J. M. Claessen (1989: 55) argues not only that taxation and tribute were characteristic of early states, but also that they were historically the two most important sources for early state economics.4 For example, both tribute and taxes were already a firm reality in Mesopotamia as early as the third millennium BCE. As Steven Garfinkle (2012: 6920) notes with regard to the third dynasty at Ur in southern Mesopotamia, “Support for the various activities of the kings came largely from tribute, the result of raids and conquest east of the Tigris, and from taxing the wealthy provinces at the center of the state.” The taxation system at Ur was remarkably developed and complex, with particular and specialized resources extracted from the various provinces and with new cities built to serve as administrative processing centers (Garfinkle, 2012: 6920).5
Taxes played a key role in early state ideology, which was ostensibly based on the principle of reciprocity.6 As Claessen and Skalník (1978: 638) observe, “all categories of subjects provide the sovereign with goods and services (tribute and tax), while the sovereign for his part is responsible for his subjects’ protection, law and order, and the bestowal of benevolence.” Viewed in this way, taxes were seen as part of a redistributive economy and were politically justified on that basis. Yet there are at least two problems involved with this formulation. First, there is a growing debate as to whether “redistribution” is an appropriate and useful term to understand ancient palatial societies and economies (Halstead, 2011). Second, even granted a qualified use of the term “redistribution” as an economic concept, actual palatial economies “were not ‘redistributive’ but distributive” (Manning, 2018: 43). That is, the actual reciprocation involved in early states was often imbalanced and unequal, resulting in redistributive exploitation and enhanced social inequality (Claessen and Skalník, 1978: 614, 638–9, 644) rather than distributive justice. In such cases, the rhetoric of reciprocity functioned to justify the exploitation and served to mask the reality that reciprocation as practiced was more fictive than real.7
In the remaining portion of this essay, I shall focus on tribute, distinguishing it conceptually from taxes. In distinguishing between taxes and tribute, I treat taxes as contributions made by those who understand themselves to be part of the state to which their contributions are made, and tribute as contributions made to other (foreign) states.8 If the tribute is to be given on a regular basis, “tribute relations” between the receiving state and the contributing state are created. Tribute relations are thus “a form of economic exploitation which consists of the regular appropriation of products from the conquered population which for the most part retains its former economic and social structure” (Pershits, 1979: 150).
Claessen (1989: 51) also distinguishes between taxes and tribute, but he uses redistribution as the key difference: “Taxation is found when the contributing group falls within the redistribution system, and tribute when the contributing group falls outside the redistribution.” For him, “Taxation is based in [the] last analysis on some form of redistribution—tribute never” (Claessen, 1989: 51). While this is an important distinction, it remains unclear whether it is valid for large early empires, which, like Ur III, treated core provinces differently from the way it did its more distant territories.9 Even in a league of ancient, allied states, not all allies were equal. Some states in the league were strong and remained independent, with the terms of their alliance and the amount of their financial contribution a matter of negotiation with the league’s leader. Other allied states had been previously defeated in war and were clearly subservient; their obligations to the league leader were typically defined by treaty.10 In the case of certain empires (such as Rome), some cities and states began giving tribute after being conquered or after accepting foreign rule without active resistance; at a later time, they were formally incorporated into the empire. Some benefits (such as political stability promised by the vaunted Pax Romana) were claimed as flowing to the conquered states, especially those that were administratively incorporated within a burgeoning empire. To the extent that such benefits were part of the terms agreed upon by the conqueror and the conquered for the tribute, groups paying the tribute had every right to expect the promised redistribution. The reciprocity involved was, to be sure, starkly asymmetrical, but the notion was still present.11 This stands in stark contrast to booty and plunder, where confiscation of goods belongs ideologically to the spoils of war.12
The importance of tribute was linked to the significance of warfare for early states and empires, especially in the first millennium BCE. As Joseph Manning (2018: 189) has noted, states’ war-making capacity had significant implications for “their size and endurance as well as their extractive power, and war was a critical driver in economic change and in imperial performance.” War was a key aspect of fiscal policy for Assyria, Babylon, Egypt, Persia, Athens, the Hellenistic kingdoms, and Rome, as well as other states and empires. As Manning (2018: 189) puts it,
War was a “mode of acquisition”; it was a “structural” part of premodern economies more broadly, a method of revenue extraction, a style of governance (rulers as war leaders); and the acquisitive aspect of war was something that Rome … benefitted enormously from.
Early states and empires uniformly required their subjugated enemies to pay tribute and often expected even their allies to do the same as the price they paid for the greater power’s leadership and their own security.13 In the world of Realpolitik, payment of tribute was the universal norm, with the amount due usually based on the stronger power’s assessment of the subdued state’s ability to pay or determined by negotiations between the parties involved. Exemption from tribute or taxes was typically a reward for loyalty and meritorious actions, a measure to facilitate the integration of a city and its citizens into the new state or empire, a means of providing relief in difficult times, or an incentive for good behavior. Such exemptions were usually temporary or dependent upon a variety of other factors, such as continuing good relations between the two states or the financial needs of the state granting the exemption.14
The practice of levying of tribute appears only seldom, if ever, to have been ethically questioned in the ancient world. Anyone who seriously questioned it might well have been thought to be utterly ignorant of sovereignty and the nature of things, “living, as one might say, on a different planet” (Aelius Aristides, Panath. 306).15 The taking of spoils and the exaction of tribute from a conquered foe were not viewed as actions requiring any defense whatsoever.16 Indeed, as the depiction of the tribute-bearers from twenty-three subject nations found on the monumental stairways of the Apadana building at Persepolis indicates, the influx of tribute was a cause for celebration, boasting, and propaganda.17 States that paid tribute, by contrast, almost always viewed it as extortion, as the necessary cost of self-preservation that they were forced to pay in order to survive. At the same time, there was also an acute realization that conquering states differed in how they extracted tribute, with some rulers and/or states regarded as being more ruthless and demanding than others. In this sense, tribute extraction was viewed in the same way as slavery, where it was commonly recognized that some enslavers were harsher toward their enslaved persons than were others who claimed people as property (Fitzgerald, 2010). Herodotus, for example, distinguishes between three different Persian rulers: Cyrus the Great, Cambyses, and Darius. Cyrus (the true creator of the Achaemenid Empire) and his son Cambyses had conquered Asia (Hist. 3.88), and Cambyses also enlarged the empire by conquering Egypt, but it was Darius who organized and consolidated it. He established twenty provinces (satrapies), appointed governors for each province, and determined how much tribute (phorous) each should pay (Hist. 3.89.1).18 Herodotus then says the following:
In the reigns of Cyrus and Cambyses there had been no regular fixed tribute [phorou], only collection of gifts [dōra]. Because of his fixing of the tribute assessment, and other things of the same kind, the Persians have a saying that Darius was a shopkeeper [kapēlos], Cambyses a master of slaves [despotēs], and Cyrus a father [patēr]. What they mean is that Darius kept petty accounts for everything, that Cambyses was hard and contemptuous, and that Cyrus was gentle and contrived everything for their good.
(Hist. 3.89.3)19
When a city was confronted by a demand for tribute, it was forced to decide whether to pay or to refuse to pay. The risk of refusing to pay or in ceasing to pay the tribute assessment was war, which often entailed the destruction of the city and either death or slavery for its inhabitants. In a pseudonymous letter, the presocratic philosopher Anaximenes of Miletus (sixth century BCE) is depicted as writing to his contemporary, Pythagoras, who had left his native city of Samos in the eastern Aegean for Croton in southern Italy in circa 530 BCE. Anaximenes tells Pythagoras that his move was well advised, whereas he and his fellow Milesians have a precarious situation:
You were the best advised of us all: for now that you have moved away from Samos to Croton, you live in peace there. Aeaces’s sons [i.e., the tyrant Polycrates and his brothers] commit dreadful evils, and tyrants continue to rule the Milesians. The king of the Medes too is terrifying [deinos] for us, unless indeed we are willing to pay him tribute. But the Ionians are about to start a war against the Medes for the sake of everyone’s freedom. But if this happens, we shall lose any hope of being saved. How then could Anaximenes still think to study the heavens, living as he does in fear of death or slavery? But you find favor with the Crotonians and also the other Greeks in southern Italy; and pupils come to you even from Sicily.
(Diogenes Laertius, Vit. phil. 2.5 [trans. Laks and Most, 2016: 375, 377])
In short, Ps.-Anaximenes refers here to the looming Ionian Revolt of 499–493 BCE. The Persian (Medes’s) demand for tribute is depicted as so onerous that the Ionians are about to revolt, but Ps.-Anaximenes is rightly worried. The revolt proved disastrous for Miletus, which was sacked by the Persians in 494 BCE.
I begin this section by briefly rehearsing the Persian Wars so as to provide a historical background for the subsequent discussion of tribute. In the early fifth century BCE, Persia made two attempts to conquer Greece, the first by Darius and the second by Xerxes. Its first invasion, in 490 BCE, was thwarted at the Battle of Marathon that same year (Thucydides, Hist. 1.18.1). A second invasion occurred a decade later in 480 BCE (Thucydides, Hist. 1.18.2) and was slowed but not stopped by the Spartans at Thermopylae. Next, Xerxes took Athens, with the Persians first plundering the acropolis temple and then burning the entire acropolis (Herodotus, Hist. 8.53). That triumph, however, marked the beginning of the end of the Persians’ occupation of parts of Greece. They were decisively defeated at the naval Battle of Salamis in 479 BCE, and the invasion itself ended with their defeat at the land Battle of Plataea in 479 BCE. At the same time that one coalition of Greeks was defeating the Persians at Plataea, another Greek coalition was defeating the Persians in Ionia at the Battle of Mycale (Herodotus, Hist. 9.96–101). Herodotus says that the two battles took place on the same day of the same month and year. For the Greeks, the simultaneity of the two victories was no mere coincidence, but a sign of the divine ordering of events (Hist. 9.100–101), or, as Herodotus says elsewhere, “by coincidence of chance, God doing it” (Hist. 9.91); that is, “God’s contrivance of a coincidence” (Grene 1987: 651). Fighting together in a common effort (koinē), the Greeks, led by both Athens and Sparta, had foiled Persian ambitions for mainland Greece (Thucydides, Hist. 5.18.2).
As frequently happens following a great victory, the coordinated effort that had made possible the success against Persia ceased as soon as the imminent threat vanished. Athens and Sparta had irreconcilable differences, making their joint leadership of the alliance in the post-war period impossible (Thucydides, Hist. 1.18.2–3; 95.7–97.1). Their antagonism fractured the coalition of other Greek city-states, with some of them aligning themselves with Athens and others with Sparta (Hist. 1.18.2). The Delian League was formed in 478/477 BCE on the sacred island of Delos, with the putative purpose of continuing the war against Persia.20 It consisted of Athens and its allies—more than 300 of them—with Athens’s rule over its allies from 478 to 404 BCE often called the “Athenian Empire.”21 The exact date when the Peloponnesian League was formed is unknown and debated; it may have been formed by Sparta as early as the sixth century BCE, but it certainly existed by the time that the Delian League was formed. The two leagues differed in many ways, but the key difference for our purposes involved tribute. Sparta did not make its allies pay tribute (phoros), whereas Athens did. Instead of tribute, Sparta ensured that their allies had oligarchies that governed their cities in a manner that was amenable to Spartan interests (Hist. 1.19.1; 76.1). Athens, by contrast, did two things. First, it took over the ships of almost all of its allies, giving it a massive naval fleet. Second, it imposed tribute on its allies in the form of contributions of money (chrēmata: Hist. 1.19.1). In short, Athens “assessed the various contributions to be made for the war against Persia, and decided which states should furnish money, and which states should send ships” (Hist. 1.96.1).22
As Sarah Bolmarcich (2005) has demonstrated, Thucydides understood that the Spartans and the Athenians adopted two quite different methods for controlling its allies. Sparta did so by dictating its allies’ form of government (oligarchy) and insisting that it pursue a domestic policy that was congenial to Sparta’s interests. Athens, by contrast, controlled its allies’ foreign policy by appropriating their naval forces and exacting tribute. “The Athenian Empire was built on the visible manifestation of Athenian power, her navy, and her money; the Peloponnesian League was built on Spartan politicking” (Bolmarcich, 2005: 32).
In requiring members of the Delian League to pay tribute, Athens partly followed Persia, using it as a model and treating tribute as an instrument of empire (Raaflaub, 2009: 98–101).23 The tribute that Athens received from its allies enriched Athens, enhancing not only its wealth but its capacity for war. As King Archidamus of Sparta recognized, money matters, and war is not so much a matter of arms as it is of money; it is money that makes arms and their use effective (Thucydides, Hist. 1.88.2). Because tribute was a central aspect of Athenian foreign policy, it necessarily had to create a mechanism for administering the tribute. Thucydides writes,
At this time [476 BCE] the officials known as “Hellenic Treasurers” were first appointed by the Athenians. These officials received the tribute [phoron], which was the name given to the contributions in money [tōn chrēmatōn hē phora]. The original sum fixed for the tribute was 460 talents. The treasury of the League was at Delos, and representative meetings were held in the temple there.
(Hist. 1.96.2)24
From this point on, conflicts between Athens and its allies over the tribute were inevitable. This was especially true because “the Athenians throughout the mid-fifth century channeled the tribute to solidify and enlarge their own democratic culture at home while seeking tyrannical aggrandizement abroad.”25 Furthermore, the Athenians justified their policy politically. According to Hanson (2008: xviii),
In the process, Thucydides says, Pericles and the Athenian intelligentsia craft a policy for their oppression. It becomes a determinist, Hobbesian doctrine which explains that power—and hence justice—always and rightly accrues to the strong (2.64; 5.97).
Indeed, even before war was officially declared, the Athenians present at a meeting of the Peloponnesian League at Sparta admitted that its own allies thought that Athens’s rule was oppressive (chalepē) because it forced them to bear a heavy (bary) yoke (Hist. 1.77.5). They adamantly defended their state’s use of its power by saying, “It has always been a rule that the weak should be subject to the strong” (Hist. 1.76.2). Furthermore, they believed that they merited (axioi) their rule and considered their use of their power as moderate (Hist. 1.76.3–4; 77.2). In their view, the proper reaction of their allies should have been gratitude (charis) rather than indignant vexation (chalepōteron):
Our subjects … are used to being treated as equals [isou]; consequently, when they are disappointed in what they think right and suffer even the smallest disadvantage … because of the power [dynamei] that our empire gives us, they cease to feel grateful [charin] to us for all of the advantages which we have left to them.
(Thucydides, Hist. 1.77.3)
As an example of Athenian conflict with its allies over tribute, I shall focus on Melos and do so by briefly discussing the Melian Dialogue of Thucydides (Hist. 5.84–116). I have chosen it because it is a famous early Greek example of negotiations between emissaries of an imperial force and the leaders of a threatened city.26 Thucydides himself was not present to hear what was actually said, so the dialogue represents what he believed would have been appropriate for both groups to say on the occasion. Although he has tailored the dialogue to fit the historical situation of Athens and Melos, he is almost certainly drawing upon a longstanding tradition of interstate negotiations and the kinds of remarks that were typically made on both sides of a confrontation. The Melian Dialogue is thus a dramatic representation of arguments typically made on such occasions.
The context of this dialogue is the Second Peloponnesian War (441–404 BCE) between Athens and its allies (the Delian League) and Sparta and its allies (the Peloponnesian League). Melos, an island in the Aegean, was a Spartan colony with a strong Doric identity (Hist. 5.84.2, 89, 106, 112.2), but when the war broke out, it sought to remain neutral (Hist. 5.84.2; Bauslaugh, 1991: 113–7). In 426 BCE, Athens had attempted unsuccessfully to force Melos to join the Delian League (Hist. 3.91.1–2)—or at least contribute financially to it—possibly after the Melians had made a contribution to the Spartan war fund (Loomis, 1992). They made a second attempt in 416 BCE, and this is the setting for the dialogue.
A full analysis of the dialogue is beyond the scope of this essay, but three things stand out. First, the Athenian emissaries argue that appeals to justice are irrelevant in situations involving unequal powers: “In human negotiations justice is taken into account [only] when there is equal power to compel” (Hist. 5.89).27 When a greater military power (Athens) confronts a lesser one (Melos), “the powerful exact what they can and the weak suffer what they must” (5.89). Second, the Melians refuse to concede the Athenian claim that justice is irrelevant to those who are militarily weaker. They declare that their cause is just (5.86) and that the Athenians are ignoring justice (5.90); they even assert that the Athenians are unjust, whereas they are pious (5.104). Because of this, they contend that the gods will help them to resist the Athenians: “We trust that, so far as fortune is concerned, we shall through divine favor be at no disadvantage because we are god-fearing men standing our ground against unjust men” (5.104). Third, the Athenians reject the Melians’ theological argument: “Our opinion of the gods and our knowledge of humans lead us to conclude that it is a general and necessary law of nature to rule whatever one can” (5.105.2). The gods rule by virtue of their power, and powerful humans do the same. This is a law (nomos) that corresponds to both divine and human nature (physis). Therefore, inasmuch as it is the divinely ordained nature of reality for the strong to rule over the weak, the Athenians can be confident of divine favor if negotiations fail and war ensues. In short, in support of the Melians’ case for remaining neutral and not paying tribute to Athens, Thucydides has their leaders make a number of arguments. The latter include both moral and theological arguments, but neither proves persuasive. The Athenians thus began taking steps against the Melians and felt morally and theologically justified in doing so. The result was a horrific siege that ended with the execution of all the men of military age and the sale of the women and children into slavery (5.116.4).
The point is that both sides in this confrontation had arguments in support of their actions. The same was doubtless true in many similar situations. Those cities and states that paid tribute usually felt that they were being extorted, and they did so ultimately because they thought acquiescence to the demands of a stronger force was more prudent than resistance. There appears to be little evidence that the stronger party ever felt any remorse about making their financial demands. What did prompt criticism and debate were the kinds of actions taken by the conquering army when a city or state refused to give the demanded tribute and offered military resistance. When conquering powers were deemed to have used excessive force to punish the conquered city or state, some individuals and states condemned their extreme brutality. This is exactly what happened following the Athenian atrocities at Melos, which had been preceded by the same atrocities at Scione in 421 BCE, five years earlier (Hist. 4.122.6; 5.32.1).28 Because the men of military age had been massacred and the women and children sold into slavery at both Melos and Scione, the Athenian actions at these two places were often remembered together.
The first surviving comment on the atrocity at Melos was made by Aristophanes in his comedy Birds, which was produced in 414 BCE, two years after the siege and subsequent massacre. He refers to the “Melian famine” in a line (Av. 186) often taken as a casual joke (so Henderson 2000: 8), though it may well have a serious political and religious underlying point.29 Romer (1994) argues that Aristophanes is also alluding here and elsewhere in the Birds to Diagoras of Miletus, the famous atheist:
In 416 it was the Athenian demos who (like Peisetairos) had been both atheos and turannikos, for, in that year the Athenians’ Realpolitik had defeated not only the Melians’ trust in the Spartans but also their trust in the gods (Thuc[ydides, Hist.] 5.104). Peisetairos’ limos is atheos precisely because it is an assault on the established gods by those who no longer credit the gods.
(Romer, 1994: 358)
The first substantial response to Melos was given by Isocrates in two of his orations. Both orations reveal how adverse the reaction to the notorious incident was in some circles. The first is his Panegyricus (Or. 4), a speech that was written over some ten to fifteen years and was finished circa 380 BCE, thus some thirty-five to forty years after the atrocities had occurred. In the intervening years, the Second Peloponnesian War had ended (404 BCE), with Sparta victorious over Athens and the Delian League dissolved. Sparta’s victory, which had been made possible by the financial support of Persia, meant that it was now totally free to pursue its hegemonic ambitions, which it did by embracing an expansionist policy. From 404 to 371 BCE, Sparta thus “dominated the lives of the Greeks” (Fine, 1983: 578).30 Resistance by other Greek cities was inevitable. Widespread fear of Spartan expansionism in Asia Minor and Greece led to the Corinthian War (395–386 BCE), which pitted Sparta against not only Athens, but also its former allies Corinth and Thebes, as well as Persia (Hornblower, 2012).
The hostilities ended with the King’s Peace of 387/386 BCE, a royal edict issued by the Persian king Artaxerxes II. The edict appears to have been the result of an agreement worked out between Artaxerxes and Antalcidas of Sparta (and thus the agreement is also known as the Peace of Antalcidas). Both Sparta and Persia gained significantly from the accord. Persia gained politically by having its longstanding claims for the cities of Asia Minor acknowledged, along with its wish for sovereignty over Clazomenae and Cyprus granted (Xenophon, Hell. 5.1.31). This arrangement enabled it to include the Greek Asiatic cities within the Achaemenid Empire and begin to administer them. Sparta’s position was also vastly improved (Xenophon, Hell. 5.1.36). The autonomy of the mainland Greek cities (with a few exceptions) was recognized by the King’s Peace, which enabled Sparta to continue its hegemonic ambitions for the control of Greece without fear of Persian intervention. In short, by 380 BCE, the date when the Panegyricus was published, “most Greek states saw Sparta, not Persia, as the chief menace to their autonomy” (Usher, 1990: 10).
Isocrates’s Panegyricus is an appeal for a resumption of Athenian hegemony and reflects the conviction that Persia remained the most dangerous enemy. Following the prooemium (Paneg. 1–14) and statement of the main proposition (15–20), the speech has two major sections—the first largely epideictic (23–128, followed by 129–32) and the second deliberative (133–69)—and concludes with an epilogue (170–89). In keeping with epideictic speech in general, the first section is an effusive glorification of Athens. Using both mythical and historical arguments, Isocrates presents “Athens’ claim to the moral and cultural leadership of the Greek world,” and he “demonstrates [its] Panhellenic sympathies by enumerating the cultural benefits in which Athens allows the other Greek cities to participate” (Usher, 1990: 19). He next extols Athens’s military record in the Persian Wars (up to the victory at Salamis in 480 BCE) by rehearsing its various victories and achievements in war, thus demonstrating its prowess. In short, since Athens is a proven leader, the other Greek cities should unite under its leadership and conduct a national, Panhellenic war against Persia, its common enemy (Fine, 1983: 566). Indeed, he even says that “all would agree that our city has been the source of the most benefits, and that the leadership should be hers by right” (Paneg. 100).31
It is precisely here, where he claims that it is “just” (dikaiōs: Paneg. 100; see also 18, 20) for Athens to lead the coalition, that he is forced to address a problem that he previously had glossed over in patriotically lavishing praise on Athens; namely, the Athenians’ atrocities at Melos and Scione:
But regarding subsequent history there are some who accuse us of being responsible for many evils [kakōn] against the Greeks after we took over command of the sea. They cite against us the enslavement [andrapodismon] of the Melians and the annihilation [olethron] of the Scionians.
(Paneg. 100)
As we have seen, the conclusion of the Persian Wars had led to the formation of the Delian League in 478/477, and it existed until 404 BCE, when the League was dissolved following Sparta’s victory. So, the key question left unanswered by Isocrates in his glowing encomium on Athenian leadership was, quite simply, what kind of record had it compiled as leader of the Delian League? The critics mentioned by Isocrates certainly included Sparta and undoubtedly some Athenians as well, especially those whose political viewpoint differed from that of Pericles and his supporters. Even before the Second Peloponnesian War formally began, Sparta and its allies had a long list of grievances against Athens and members of the Delian League (Thucydides, Hist. 1.67.1, 3–4; 68.2; 69.2, 6; 79.2; 82.1; 86.1–2; etc.), and Athens already had crushed the revolts of some of its own disenchanted allies (Hist. 1.75.4).32 In his speech to the Peloponnesian League, the Spartan ephor Sthenelaidas argues that the Athenians had a good track record regarding Persia, but a bad record against Sparta and their allies. In short, “they once were good [agathōn], but now have become bad [kakoi]” (Hist. 1.86.1).
The harsh truth is that Melos and Scione were not completely isolated events, exceptions to an otherwise spotless record. The reality was that, as Xenophon acknowledges, the Athenians had treated “many other of the Greeks” harshly, including the Histiaeans, the Toronaeans, and the Aeginetans (Hell. 2.2.3). It was the Athenians’ knowledge of what they had done to other Greeks that made them fear, following their disastrous defeat at the Battle of Aegospotami—the last and decisive battle of the Second Peloponnesian War—that they would suffer the same horrible fate that they had “unjustly” (ēdikoun) inflicted on others in “wanton violence” (hybrin: Hell. 2.2.10).
Isocrates offers two responses to the critics of Athenian actions. The first is as follows:
It is my view, however, firstly, that it is no proof that we ruled badly [kakōs] if some who waged war against us were severely punished [spodra … kolasthentes], but a much more convincing indication that we administered the alliance’s affairs fairly [kalōs] is to be found in the fact that none of the cities that stayed under our control suffered these hardships.
(Paneg. 101)
Here, Isocrates minimizes the atrocities, calling them “severe punishment” and “hardships” or “misfortunes” (symphorais). He describes the actions of Melos and Scione as “waging war” (polemēsantōn), using the active participle so as to emphasize their agency, but switches to the passive participle kolasthentes (“being punished”) in order to obscure the historical facts and to minimize Athenian agency (Usher, 1990: 174; Seaman, 1997: 414, n. 105). In short, he argues that it was the disobedience of Melos and Scione that led to their punishment; the fact that the Athenians did not treat obedient allies in this same way is offered as proof that they had led the league properly. In his Aeropagiticus, Isocrates mentions the allies making their financial contributions (syntaxeis) in conjunction with them obeying Athenian commands (to prostattomenon poiountas: Areop. 2). For him, paying tribute is a matter of following orders, and not paying it is disobedience, which cannot be permitted.
Isocrates’s second response is:
In the second place, if others had dealt more mildly [praoteron] with the same situations, they might reasonably criticise [epitimōen] us; but since this has not been the case, and it is impossible to govern [kratein] such a large number of states if one does not punish [kolazē] offenders [examartanontas], how are we not actually deserving of praise [epainein], when we were able to hold on to our empire for the longest time, while dealing harshly [chalepēnantes] with the smallest [elachistois] number of our subjects?
(Paneg. 102)
In this second part of Isocrates’s apologia for Athenian rule during most of the fifth century BCE, he repeats his assertion that Athens’s actions constituted punishment, this time making explicit that the real “offenders” (examartanontas) were the Melians and Scionians. It is impossible to govern either well or for any long period of time—in the case of Athens some sixty-five (Panath. 56) or seventy years (Paneg. 106)—without punishing offenders, and it is only in a “very small” (elachistois) number of cases that Athens has resorted to harsh punishment. On the whole, they have governed with moderation and mildness—no state has been “milder” (praoteron). In short, Athenian rule has resulted in its empire enjoying “the greatest number of benefits” (pleistōn agathōn) with “the smallest number” (elachistois) of severe actions, with Isocrates using the two superlatives to bracket his entire discussion (Usher, 1990: 174). It is therefore “just” (dikaion) to give the Athenians praise rather than censure.
The last time that Isocrates mentions the Melians is in his Panathenaicus, his last oration, which he finished writing and published in 339 BCE, at the age of 97. Like the Panegyricus, it is a glorification of Athens, but it differs from it in many respects. One of these differences involves Melos. Here he mentions them twice. The first time is in Panath. 63 in the midst of a comparison (synkrisis) of the Athenians and Spartans, where he complains that Athens’s critics “always” (aei) denounce it by recounting the “most offensive” (dyscherestatas) acts that occurred during the heyday of the Athenian Empire, by misrepresenting the way that lawsuits involving the allies were adjudicated in Athens, and, above all, by dwelling “on the cruelties [pathē] suffered at her hands by the Melians and the Scionians and the Toronians.”33 The second time is at Panath. 89, where he returns, after a digression, to the task of responding to “those who reproach [oneidizousin] us with the misfortunes [symphoras] of the Melians and of villages with like populations.”
Here in the Panathenaicus, in stark contrast to the Panegyricus, he is willing to concede wrongdoing on Athens’s part, not seeking to conceal it through minimization. Indeed, he says he will make no effort to refute any of the criticisms that could “justly” (dikaiōs) be made against Athens (Panath. 63). Furthermore, instead of referring to the Melians as among those who “erred” (examartanontas) as he did in the Panegyricus (102), he now freely admits that Athens had “erred” (examartein: Panath. 70; ēmartēmenōn: Panath. 89) and disavows any attempt “to persuade you that our commonwealth has never erred [peplēmmelēken] in any instance whatsoever” (Panath. 64). He says that he would be “ashamed” (aischynoimēn) even to make such a claim. After all, no one is without error; indeed, as is generally recognized, even the gods are “not free from error” (anamartētous: Panath. 64).34 His defense regarding Athenian atrocities thus consists not in asserting Athens’s innocence but in contending that the Spartans were far, far worse and much more reprehensible in how they abused and mistreated other cities than Athens ever was (Panath. 66, 89). Not only had Sparta abused more cities than Athens, but greater ones (Panath. 70, 89); places like Melos were, by contrast, “tiny islands” (nēsydria), towns “so small and insignificant that many of the Hellenes do not even know of their existence” (Panath. 70).
As far as the tribute itself is concerned, his defense is threefold: (1) their allies had voluntarily agreed to pay it when they conferred the leadership of the Delian League; (2) they did so, not for Athens’s security, but to preserve their freedom and form of government; and (3) they paid the tribute out of resources that they possessed on account of Athens, not their own savings (Panath. 68). That is, Athenian aid had enabled them to become so prosperous that their contributions were only a small percentage of their total wealth, and even after paying the tribute, they were just as prosperous as cities in the Peloponnesian League that paid no tribute (Panath. 69). In short, Isocrates argues that the proper and “just” (dikaiōs) attitude of the allies toward Athens should have been “gratitude” (charis: Panath. 69), which was exactly the same viewpoint that the Athenians had before the war began (Thucydides, Hist. 1.77.3).
The Athenian atrocities at Melos and elsewhere were long remembered, not simply because of the prominence given to the preceding negotiations by Thucydides in his Melian Dialogue (Andrewes, 1992: 446), but also because of the magnitude of the injustice (Seaman, 1997: 414, n. 105). Later responses tend to fall into four categories. The first is simple remembrance of the atrocity, with Strabo serving as an example of this response. In discussing the islands in the Aegean, he mentions Melos and says without elaboration that an Athenian expedition to the island “had slaughtered [katesphaxan] most of the inhabitants from youth upwards” (Geogr. 10.5.1 [trans. Jones, 1928: 163]).
The second kind of response is represented by Aelius Aristides in his own glorification of Athens, the Panathenaicus. Aristides outdoes even the Panegyricus of Isocrates in his defense of Athens’s actions. As Trapp (2017: 6–7) notes, Aristides (Panath. 302–312) defends the atrocities at Melos and Scione in two ways: by exhorting critics “to look at the Athenian record overall, rather than at particular episodes,” and by insisting “on the brutal realities of imperialism.”
The third kind of response was to acknowledge Athenian fault, but to place most of the blame on Alcibiades, the controversial Athenian general, thus making him the scapegoat for the state’s inhumane actions. This tradition is represented by the Against Alcibiades (Or. 4) of Ps.-Andocides, who accuses him of not only recommending the sale of the Melian survivors into slavery, but also purchasing one of the Melian women and fathering a son by her. He regards these actions as odious and beyond the pale of acceptable conduct, going to “the extreme limits of errors” (tōn hamartēmatōn hyperbolas: Alc. 22–23) and being conspicuous among the many egregious actions that warranted Alcibiades’s ostracism (Alc. 2, 40).35 Plutarch in his Life of Alcibiades follows this tradition, repeating the story that he took one of the Melian women to be his mistress and later fathered a son by her. Yet he differs from Ps.-Andocides by viewing Alcibiades’s actions toward the woman and her son as “humane” (philanthrōpon) rather than reprehensible, and he makes the cutting of the Melians’ throats (aposphagēnai) mostly Alcibiades’s responsibility (tēn pleistēn aitian) because he had supported the decree calling for the men’s execution (Alc. 16.4–5).
The fourth kind of response is represented by Arrian, who did not hesitate to castigate the Athenians for what they had done. He called the Athenians’ actions at Melos “shameful” (aischynē) and “shocking” (paralogon). Yet the former outweighed the latter, for the capture of Melos “brought more shame to the perpetrators than any great shock to the whole Greek world” (Anab. 1.9.5 [trans. Brunt, 1976: 41]).
Both the levying of taxes and the extraction of tribute played an important role in the formation of early states and even more so in the strategies of early empires. This essay has focused on tribute, treating Persia briefly and concentrating on the Athenian Empire and its imposition of tribute on its allies during the fifth century BCE. Tribute was assessed according to a state’s size and ability to pay, with some states contributing ships and others money. Both of these forms of tribute added to Athens’s wealth and strengthened its military capacity, especially at sea. Athens responded aggressively to quell revolts of allied cities and to punish any state that refused to pay tribute. That included even city-states such as Melos that wished to remain neutral in the conflict between Athens and Sparta. Forcing other states to pay tribute was by no means an unusual practice, but the severity of its treatment of Melos sparked intense debate and was remembered for centuries as a serious blight on Athens’s record.
Rome, too, was imperialistic, with not only its powerful generals but especially its senators taking “the lead in imperialism in both its principal senses: in exploitation and in aggression” (Badian, 1968: 79).36 Cicero, who was fully capable of using imperialist rhetoric when it served his purposes (Rose, 1995), spoke for many Romans when he exclaimed, “What a splendid thing it is to rule over foreign nations” (praeclarum esset exteris gentibus imperare: Verr. 2.2.1.2). Peter A. Brunt (1978: 160) states the Roman view of their burgeoning empire by saying:
The Romans themselves liked to believe that they had acquired their dominions justly, by fighting for their own security or for the protection of their allies. Victory had conferred on them the right to rule over the conquered, and they were naturally conscious that this right was profitable to them, nor were they ashamed of the booty and tribute they exacted. However, they preferred to dwell on the sheer glory of empire, which made Rome specially worthy of the devotion of her citizens.… This dominion was ordained by the gods, whose favor Rome had deserved by piety and justice, and it was exercised in the interest of the subjects.
In Cicero’s view, “revenues are the sinews of the republic” (vectigalia nervos esse rei publicae: Leg. man. 17), which meant that Rome had a vested interest in levying taxes, exacting tribute, and taking spoils from the lands they conquered. Taxes, tribute, and other indemnities were “the reward for victory” (victoriae praemium) that Rome reaped and “the penalty of war” (poena belli) that defeated foes necessarily paid (Cicero, Verr. 2.3.6.12). Without tribute, there could be no Roman empire. As Q. Petillius Cerialis says to an assembly of the Treviri and Lingones during the Batavian revolt of 69–70 CE,
There were always kings and wars throughout Gaul until you submitted to our laws. Although often provoked by you, the only use we have made of our rights as victors [iure victoriae] has been to impose on you the necessary costs of maintaining peace [pacem]; for you cannot secure tranquility among nations without armies, nor maintain armies without pay, nor provide pay without tribute [tributis].
(Tacitus, Hist. 4.74 [trans. Moore 1931: 145, 147, slightly modified])
In addition to using tribute money to support its military, Rome used these revenues to augment its strength and wealth and thereby to lessen the tax burden of its own citizens. One of the most financially profitable victories was that of the consul L. Aemelius Paullus over King Perseus of Macedonia at Pydna in 168 BCE, which ended the Third Macedonian War (171–168 BCE). As Valerius Maximus in his Memorable Doings and Sayings remarks, Paullus “satiated” Rome’s “hereditary poverty” with “the wealth of Macedonia,” thus relieving Roman citizens of “the burden of war tax” (Mem. 4.3.8 [trans. Shackleton-Bailey, 2000: 375]). Indeed, Cicero (Off. 2.760) says, “When Paullus got possession of all the wealth of Macedon—and it was enormous—he brought into our treasury so much money that the spoils of a single general did away with the need for a tax on property in Rome for all time to come” (trans. Miller, 1913: 253; see also Polybius, Hist. 18.35.4–9).
As for those countries and people compelled to pay tribute, they typically viewed it, at the very least, as a burden to be tolerated (tributa toleravere) (Tacitus, Hist. 4.71). Many, however, viewed it as so onerous a financial obligation that it was tantamount to slavery. Thucydides already links the paying of tribute to slavery in book 1 of his History of the Peloponnesian War. In their speech to the Spartan allies prior to the declaration of war, the Corinthian representatives remark that Athens’s “allies will not fail to pay tribute for their own enslavement” (douleia) (Thucydides, Hist. 1.121.5 [trans. Smyth, 1956: 611, 2968e]). They argue that Athens’s opponents, by contrast, should be willing to make financial contributions to secure safety and liberty for themselves (1.121.5; 122.3). They must not only wage war but must do so successfully, for defeat would mean “downright slavery” (antikrys douleia: 1.122.2).
It was precisely that statement by Thucydides that Josephus used to express the viewpoint of Judas the Galilean and his supporters at the time of the Roman census and property assessment in 6 CE. “They said that the assessment carried with it a status amounting to downright slavery [antikrys douleian], and appealed to the nation to make a bid for independence” (eleutherias) (Josephus, A.J. 18.4 [trans. Feldman 1965: 5, 7]).37 In short, Josephus depicts the initial Jewish resistance to Rome and its demands for tribute in terms reminiscent of the Corinthian war hawks prior to the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War.
On occasion, the Romans could acknowledge that paying tribute constituted slavery (Tacitus, Hist. 4.59: servitium), but they tended to view complaints about tribute as just the carping of the conquered, as being among “all the charges that are conventionally brought up against mighty empires” (Hist. 4.68.5), and particularly against Rome.38 Rome’s ultimate justification for the extraction of tribute was the “might makes right” argument, which is what Finley (1978: 59) meant when he identified hierarchy as one of the “unchallenged concepts” of antiquity: “domination was ‘natural.’” Although Aelius Aristides was primarily justifying Athens’s use of its power to demand tribute, he may also (as Trapp 2017: 257, n. 219, suggests) be thinking of Rome when he offers his apology for tribute. I conclude by quoting his apologia:
All sovereignty [archē] of course belongs to the more powerful and directly contravenes the principle of equality [isotētos]. Otherwise, how ever is it fair [ison] or just [dikaion] to extract tribute [phorous] from foreign lands, or make laws for people who do not ask for them, or arbitrate over their disputes, or give them orders, or wage war, or appropriate what does not belong to you? Quite in general, none of this happens as a matter of fairness [isou]. Therefore anyone who quibbles about justification and prefers clever argument to acceptance of the real nature of things ought simply to strike out all forms of sovereignty and rule straight away, because all of them are covered by the law of superior power [tō thesmō tou kreittonos].
(Panath. 306)