Mouth Of The Mob: At the end of the Ancient Greek historian, Polybius', anacyclotic cycle of political decline, a demagogue, more skilled than any of his predecessors, attracts sufficient support from the state’s angriest and most fearful citizens to overturn the institutions of democracy and govern without them.
IT’S UNNERVING to discover that today’s headlines are best
explained by a man who died in 118 BC.
Perhaps it’s the extreme unpredictability of global events – especially the
Trump Presidency – that makes this possible. So many people are disorientated
and dismayed by their discovery that the news no longer fits into the
explanatory frameworks they have relied upon to make sense of political and
economic behaviour.
This is where Polybius comes in.
Polybius was an historian who looked for patterns in the
chaotic spectacle of human affairs. He was interested especially in the way
people governed themselves. There were, he said, three “benign” forms of
government: Monarchy – rule by the one; Aristocracy – rule by the few; and
Democracy – rule by the many. Unfortunately, these three benign forms were
dogged by their malignant shadows: Tyranny – misrule by the one; Oligarchy –
misrule by the few; and Ochlocracy – misrule by the mob.
Surveying the history of his own era (Polybius was writing
at the time when the Greek world was fast giving way to the upstart Roman
Republic) he identified a pattern of political stimulus and response which gave
rise to a recurring sequence, or cycle, in human affairs. Polybius called this
cycle “anacyclosis”.
In the simplest terms, anacyclosis evolves as follows:
monarchy declines into tyranny; aristocracy degenerates into oligarchy;
democracy disintegrates into mob rule.
Polybius, like so many of the ancient writers, was a
fatalist. The historical cycle he describes is explained as the unavoidable
consequence of human-beings inability to resist the tendency of power to corrupt
all those who wield it. Over time, he argues, regimes instituted with the
objective of making life better for everyone, inevitably succumb to the
temptation to unfairly advantage the one, the few, or the many – at the expense
of everybody else.
Converted into a straightforward historical narrative,
anacyclosis goes something like this.
A mighty warrior and his army leads his people to
independence, whereupon his family, and the families of his key supporters, are
entrusted with the task of ruling the new state. For a while all goes well, but
as the powers of kingship descend through the generations, the mighty warrior’s
successors abandon all pretence of ruling for the public good and begin to
wield their inherited authority capriciously, corruptly and, ultimately,
violently.
Convinced that their persons and property are no longer
safe, the wealthiest and most militarily accomplished families unite to depose
the tyrant and assume the responsibility of providing just and effective
government themselves. As the years pass, however, the opportunities for
enrichment, which control of the state offers, prove irresistible.
Increasingly, the mass of the people are forced to offer up more and more of
what little they have to satisfy the greed of their masters.
Exhausted and outraged at being sucked dry by these
parasitic oligarchs, the people rise up in revolt and establish a system of
popular government. It does not take long, however, for bitter disputes over
how the wealth of the (now democratic) society should be distributed to tear
the new state apart.
The wealthy fear for their property. The poor demand a share
of it. In short order, both parties become the prey of political demagogues
skilled at whipping up the basest emotions of the people in order to secure
partisan advantage. The democratic institutions of the state are paralysed by
intractable factionalism and deliberately incited rancour and recrimination.
Debate degenerates into disorder and violence. Civil war beckons.
At which point a demagogue, more skilled than any of his
predecessors, attracts sufficient support from the state’s angriest and most
fearful citizens to overturn the institutions of democracy and govern without
them. Backed by his fanatical followers, and with sufficient armed force at his
disposal to overcome all resistance, the demagogue arrogates to himself the
powers of a king.
And so Polybius’s cycle begins all over again – albeit at a
lower (and ever-declining) level of morality.
Only last week, the radical American writer, John Michael
Greer – who has a strong scholarly interest in the writings of Polybius – was
blogging about the relevance of anacyclosis to contemporary American politics.
The United States, he writes, is now in the “crisis phase”
of the cycle:
“[W]hen power has become so gridlocked among competing power
centres that it becomes impossible for the system to break out of even the most
hopelessly counterproductive policies. That ends, according to Polybius, when a
charismatic demagogue gets into power, overturns the existing political order,
and sets in motion a general free-for-all in which old alliances shatter and
improbable new ones take shape. Does that sound familiar? In a week when union
leaders emerged beaming from a meeting with the new president, while Democrats
are still stoutly defending the integrity of the CIA, it should.”
At which point of Polybius’ cycle would you locate New
Zealand?
This essay was
originally published in The Press of Tuesday,
31 January 2017.