Athenian Power in the Fifth Century BC (Oxford Classical Monographs) 0198896263, 9780198896265

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OX F O R D C L A S SIC A L M O N O G R A P H S Published under the supervision of a Committee of the Faculty of Classics in the University of Oxford

The aim of the Oxford Classical Monographs series (which replaces the Oxford Classical and Philosophical Monographs) is to publish books based on the best theses on Greek and Latin literature, ancient history, and ancient philosophy examined by the Faculty Board of Classics.

Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc LEAH LAZAR

Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP, United Kingdom Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries © Leah Lazar 2024 The moral rights of the author have been asserted All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Control Number: 2023940945 ISBN 978–0–19–889626–5 DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198896265.001.0001 Printed and bound in the UK by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A. Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials contained in any third party website referenced in this work.

Acknowledgements The research and writing for this book, and the original doctoral thesis, were highly collaborative, and I owe thanks to many friends, colleagues and teachers. First and foremost, I was very fortunate to have two fantastic doctoral supervisors, Peter Thonemann and Lisa Kallet, both of whom remain generous with their time and support. Peter continues to be a wonderful mentor, and I am so grateful for his unfailing wisdom and kindness. Polly Low and Nino Luraghi were careful and constructive in their exam­in­ ation of the thesis, and have been very supportive in the years since. Andrew Meadows, Nikolaos Papazarkadas, and Rosalind Thomas examined parts of the thesis at earlier stages and gave formative advice. Alfonso Moreno was an excel­ lent advisor for Oxford Classical Monographs. I would also like to thank the two anonymous referees for Oxford University Press, and Christy Constantakopoulou, who kindly read the full monograph manuscript shortly before submission. My doctoral work was generously funded by the Oxford Classics Faculty, with support from the Aikaterini Laskarides Foundation, and by New College, with a 1379 Old Members’ Scholarship. The Aikaterini Laskarides Foundation also pro­ vided the beautiful image for the cover. Both the Classics Faculty (via the Craven Committee) and New College (via the Ella Stevens and Andrewes funds) sup­ ported multiple research trips in Greece and Turkey. I benefited from two peace­ ful and productive visits to the Fondation Hardt in Geneva, one funded by the Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies, and another by the Fondation itself. New College was my academic home for eight years, and I would like to thank Andrew Meadows (in whose undergraduate tutorial the seed for this book was planted), Robin Lane Fox (who introduced me to Greek history and his love of  Thucydides), Robert Parker (who gifted me books from his library), Jane Lightfoot, and the late David Raeburn. I subsequently received support from ­colleagues at Corpus Christi College, Oxford (in particular Constanze Güthenke), St John’s College, Cambridge, the Cambridge Classics Faculty, and the Centre for the Study of Ancient Documents in Oxford. Much of my research and writing happened in the Bodleian Art, Archaeology and Ancient World Library in Oxford, the Classics Faculty Library in Cambridge, and the Combined Library of the Institute of Classical Studies and the Hellenic and Roman Societies in London, and I am thankful to all their staff. I am very grateful to Charles Crowther for his epigraphic teaching, his ­generosity, and his cake. Elizabeth Foley and Martin Hallmannsecker have been excellent friends and travel companions, not to mention inspiring as historians.

vi Acknowledgements Juliane Zachhuber has been my go-­to Rhodian expert. Marcus Chin has supported me since we began our doctoral studies together in 2016. I have learned a lot, numismatic and otherwise, from Aneurin Ellis-­Evans. I have felt very supported by the doctoral and postdoctoral communities in Oxford and Cambridge, includ­ ing Katherine Backler, Emily Clifford, Olivia Elder, Alexandre Johnston, Talitha Kearey, Max Leventhal, Harry Morgan, Thomas Nelson, and Hugo Shakeshaft. Chloë Colchester has provided much help and encouragement since I joined CSAD. I would like to thank Robin Osborne, from whose knowledge and expertise I  have benefited greatly, along with the students in our Thucydides class in Cambridge in 2021. Irad Malkin chatted with me over multiple coffees, and Jack Kroll kindly corresponded with me on a number of topics. Asiya Islam, Jenny Chamarette, Siddharth Soni, Leanne Williams Green, and the other members of the Opening Lines writing group in Cambridge gave me crucial encouragement and motivation during the loneliness of the pandemic. Audiences in Oxford, Cambridge, and at Birkbeck College provided important feedback at various stages in the writing process. My recent thinking about the empire has been encouraged by Eric Driscoll and Michael Loy, with whom I will collaborate on future work on the topic. Konstantina Panousi gave me an invaluable tour of the archaeological remains on Thasos. John Papadopoulos, Yannis Tzifopoulos, and Sarah Morris were very giving with their time at Methone, when I made a formative visit to the site in 2016. Tolga Özhan made my year by letting me examine the Hamaxitos fragment of the ‘Standards decree’ at the Smintheion in August 2022. Özgür and Kari Şahan supported my first visit to north-­western Turkey in 2018. Staff at the Agora and Epigraphic Museums in Athens helped me examine the decrees for Aphytis early in my doctoral studies. Eleni Zavvou at the Epigraphic Museum, Tania Gerousi at the British School at Athens, Wendy Watkins at the Center for Epigraphical and Palaeographical Studies, Ohio State University, John Thomassen at the American Numismatic Society, Andrew Shapland and the Picture Library staff at the Ashmolean Museum, Carol Stein at the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, Ioanna Bougatsou at the Acropolis Museum, Konstantinos Thanasakis at the Aikaterini Laskaridis Foundation, Oğuz Tekin, Nalan Eda Akyürek Şahin, Charles Crowther, and John Lazar helped me with images and permissions. I am grateful to the editing and production team at Oxford University Press and Straive, including Charlotte Loveridge, Tara Werger, Saranya Ravi and Kim Richardson. Finally, I owe thanks to many colleagues not named here. All errors remain my own. Beyond academia, I am lucky to have wonderful friends, from home in London, from New College (not least my fellow undergraduate classicists), and from gradu­ ate study. I inherited my love of Greece from my family. My grandmother Claire Lazar in Johannesburg has taken great interest in my work, and my brother Mark Lazar has been a constant cheerleader. Most of all, I want to thank my brilliant parents Susan Rosenberg and John Lazar, to whom this book is dedicated.

For my parents, Susan and John

Contents List of Figures A Note on Texts, Translations, and Transliteration List of Abbreviations List of Maps

Introduction 0.1 A Familiar Monument of a Familiar Empire? 0.2 Two Centuries of Scholarship on the Athenian Empire 0.3 An Athenian Empire? 0.3.1 Empires and Negotiation

xiii xv xvii xix

1 1 7 12

13

0.4 Sources: From Thucydides to Aristophanes

17

0.5 A New Direction: Negotiation, Flexibility, and Regionality

27

0.4.1 Sources: Athenian Fifth-­Century Inscriptions 0.4.2 Alternative Sources: Beyond Athens, and beyond the Fifth Century

1. Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators 1.1 Introduction: Aristophanes’ Babylonians 1.2 Inscribed Decrees: Spheres of Control and Concession

1.2.1 Traces of Negotiation? 1.2.2.1 Strategies of Negotiation: Temporal Contexts 1.2.2.2 Strategies of Negotiation: Regional Contexts

22 26

29 29 32

35 38 40

1.3 The Parameters of Negotiation

42

1.4 The Negotiators: A Pre-­Existing Elite Network

57

1.5 Conclusion

65

1.3.1.1 The Exchange of Oaths and the Enforcement of Control 1.3.1.2 The Decrees for Chalkis 1.3.2.1 Privileges and Honours 1.3.2.2 The Decrees for Selymbria and Neapolis 1.4.1 Elites, Democracy, and Negotiation

2. Negotiation, Flexibility, and Corruption in the Athenian Tribute System 2.1 Introduction 2.1.1 Tribute and Taxation 2.1.2 Sources

2.2 Snapshot 1: Varied Statuses and Allied Volunteerism 2.2.1 2.2.2 2.2.3 2.2.4

The Eteokarpathians of Karpathos Regional Dynamics Voluntary Contributions and Allied Agency Beyond the Rubrics: A Broader History of Varied Assessment

44 47 49 52 61

66 66

68 69

71

73 74 77 80

x Contents 2.3 Snapshot 2: The Council and the Court

81

2.4 Snapshot 3: The End of Tribute 2.5 Conclusion

90 93

2.3.1 The Empire-­Wide Decrees and Corruption 2.3.2 Aristophanes and Imperial Revenues

3. Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration 3.1 Introduction 3.2 Athenian Festivals and Allied Mobility

3.2.1 Athletes and Ambassadors 3.2.2 From Cows to Crowns: Honorific Culture and Allied Elites

3.3 Allied Responses to Athenian Festivals

3.3.1 The Panathenaia, the Dionysia, and Honorific Reciprocity at Priene 3.3.2 The Rhodian Dionysia

3.3 Conclusion (and a Brief Word on Bendis)

4. From the Thermaic Gulf to Thasos: Athenian Power in the North Aegean 4.1 Introduction 4.1.1 The Landscape of the North Aegean 4.1.2 The North Aegean in the Fifth Century

4.2 Athenian Negotiation in the North Aegean

4.2.1 Negotiation and Publicity: The Allied Poleis of Methone and Aphytis 4.2.2 Negotiation with Multi-Polis Entities 4.2.3 Negotiation with the Macedonian Kings 4.2.4 Negotiation with the Thracian Kings

4.3 Competition with Thasos: Thasos as a Colonial Power

4.3.1 Competition with Thasos: Detachment of Mainland Interests 4.3.2 Learning from the Competition: Athenian Foundations in the North Aegean 4.3.2.1 A Brief Diversion: Corinth, Potidaia, and the Outbreak of the Peloponnesian War 4.3.3 Competition through Honour: Athens, Thasos, and Neapolis 4.3.4 Learning from the Competition: Thasian Power at the End of the Fifth Century

4.4 Conclusion

5. Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean 5.1 Introduction 5.1.1 The Island of Three Poleis

5.2 From the Aegean to Egypt: The Rhodian Proxeny Decrees

5.2.1 A Network Spanning Centuries 5.2.2 Athenian Interest in the Eastern Mediterranean before the Peace of Kallias 5.2.3 Traders and Tribute

84 87

95 95 97

102 104

109

114 121

126

129 129

130 133

136

136 140 143 149

152

156 159 163 164 166

170

172 172

173

176

180 184 187

Contents  xi 5.2.4 5.2.5 5.2.6 5.2.7

Traders, Tribute, . . . and Tetradrachms Fiscal Imposition in Achaemenid Egypt Honouring Evagoras The Rhodian Proxeny Decrees Again

5.3.1 5.3.2 5.3.3 5.3.4

Further Variations in Assessment Rhodian Regional Power in the Fifth Century? The Significance of Separate Assessment The Eteokarpathians Again

190 193 194 197

5.3 Rhodes and Athens in the Southern Aegean

198

5.4 Conclusion

209

6. Athens, Daskyleion, and Kyzikos: Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea 6.1 Introduction

6.1.1 From the Hellespont to the Bosporos: Mobility and Exploitation 6.1.2 The Straits in the Fifth Century

200 202 205 207

211 211

212 216

6.2 Kyzikos: Between Athens and Daskyleion

218

6.3 Athenian Taxation in the Straits

242

6.4 Conclusion

247

6.2.1 Athens and the Black Sea 6.2.1.1 Athens and the Kyzikene Staters 6.2.2 Athens and Kyzikene Agency 6.2.3 Achaemenid Satrapal Power at Daskyleion 6.2.4 Daskyleion and Kyzikos 6.3.1 The Decrees for Aphytis Explained

223 227 229 233 239 246

Conclusion: Revolt and Ruddle on Fourth-­Century Keos

249

Appendix: Fifth-­Century Athenian Decrees A.1 Decrees Concerning Individual Communities within the Empire A.2 Empire-­Wide Decrees A.3 Decrees Concerning Non-­Athenian Individuals A.4 Other Decrees

255 255 264 265 266

Bibliography Index Locorum General Index

267 287 294

List of Figures 0.1 Reconstruction of the first stone (lapis primus) of the tribute quota lists. ΕΜ 6647 + 13453. Epigraphic Museum, Athens. © Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports/Hellenic Organization of Cultural Resources Development (H.O.C.RE.D.).3 0.2 Drawing of the first stone (lapis primus) of the tribute quota lists, ATL 1 plate 1. Reprinted with the kind permission of the American School for Classical Studies in Athens.

5

0.3 Squeeze (paper mould) of a fragment of a tribute quota list from 442/41 bc (IG I3 270). Printed with the kind permission of the Center for Epigraphical and Palaeographical Studies, Ohio State University.

6

I3

1.1 Athenian decrees for Chalkis on Euboia (IG 40; 446/5 bc or 424/3 bc). © Acropolis Museum, 2012, photograph by Socratis Mavrommatis. I3

48

1.2 Decrees for Neapolis in Thrace with document relief (IG 101; 410–c.407 bc). © Acropolis Museum, 2018, photograph by Yiannis Koulelis.

54

2.1 Fragment of 425/4 bc reassessment of tribute showing island panel (IG I3 71). Metropolitan Museum (open licence).

82

3.1 North frieze of Parthenon, block 6, depicting water-­bearers in procession (442–438 bc). © Acropolis Museum, 2011, photograph by Socratis Mavrommatis.98 3.2 Sanctuary of Athena Polias at Priene. Photograph by the author. (I.Priene2

115

II3

3.3 Athenian decree found at Priene 99 = IG 1 1239; c.200 bc). Photograph by Charles Crowther, Centre for the Study of Ancient Documents, Oxford.

118

4.1 Ancient quarries at Aliki, Thasos. Photograph by the author.

132

4.2

Decrees for Methone in Macedon with document relief (IG I3 61; c. 430–­423 bc).

© Acropolis Museum, 2018, photograph by Yiannis Koulelis.

138

4.3 Thasian laws concerning informers (Pouilloux (1954) no. 18 = OR 176, Thasos Archaeological Museum; after 411 bc). Archive of L. H. Jeffery, Centre for the Study of Ancient Documents, Oxford, printed with the kind permission of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Kavala/Thasos.

168

5.1 Sanctuary of Athena, Lindos, Rhodes. Photograph by John Lazar.

176

5.2 Proxeny decree of all the Rhodians found at the Sanctuary of Athena, Lindos (Lindos II 16; late fifth century bc). Archive of the National Museum, Denmark (open licence).

178

xiv  List of Figures 5.3 Athenian decadrachm coin, dated c.460 bc. ANS 1949.119.1. Printed with the kind permission of the American Numismatic Society.

185

6.1 View of the mouth of the Hellespont from the site of Sigeion. Photograph by Charles Crowther, Centre for the Study of Ancient Documents, Oxford.

213

6.2 Electrum stater of Kyzikos, c.480–470 bc (von Fritze no. 105). Obverse: youth riding a dolphin holding a tuna fish. Reverse: incuse square. ANS 1974.53.7 Printed with the kind permission of the American Numismatic Society.

220

6.3 Electrum stater of Kyzikos, c.500–475 bc (von Fritze no. 120). Obverse: the Tyrannicides Harmodios and Aristogeiton holding swords, tuna fish. Reverse: incuse square. ANS 1944.100.42712. Printed with the kind permission of the American Numismatic Society.

230

6.4 Weight of Kyzikos with owl and tuna fish. Photograph by Ôguz Tekin, printed with the kind permission of the Ashmolean Museum.

231

6.5 Funerary stele from Miletopolis for Hypermenes, son of Hagnodemos, the Athenian, c.410–400 bc. Bursa Archaeological Museum, photograph and kind permission from Nalan Eda Akyürek Şahin.

238

Cover image Cavalcade, north frieze of the Parthenon, reproduced from The Antiquities of Athens measured and delineated by James Stuart F.R.S. and F.S.A. and Nicholas Revett painters and architects, volume II, London, John Nichols, 1787. Reproduced with kind permission of the Aikaterini Laskaridis Foundation Library.

A Note on Texts, Translations, and Transliteration For the sake of accessibility, I have not provided Greek texts of well-­known liter­ ary texts, except where necessary for my analysis. In these cases, I have used the most recent Oxford Classical Text edition. Translations of Thucydides are by Crawley, those of Herodotus by Purvis (in both cases using the accessible Landmark editions by Strassler), and those of Aristophanes by Sommerstein, sometimes lightly adapted. In the case of other literary sources, translations are indicated where relevant. In the case of Athenian inscriptions, I have provided references to Inscriptiones Graecae and, where available, Osborne and Rhodes (2017) and Attic Inscriptions Online. I have mostly provided Greek quotations of texts from the most recent available edition, unless otherwise indicated. Where a translation is provided by Osborne and Rhodes or AIO, I have used it; otherwise I have provided my own. All fifth-­century Athenian decrees under discussion are listed in the Appendix, along with information about dating. For proper names, I have mostly used more direct transliterations from the Greek, except where other spellings are more common in English.

List of Abbreviations Agora XVI

Woodhead, A. G., 1997. Inscriptions: The Decrees (The Athenian Agora, 16). Princeton. AIO Attic Inscriptions Online; www.atticinscriptions.com. AIUK Attic Inscriptions in the United Kingdom; also available at www.atticinscrip­ tions.com. ATL Meritt, B. D., McGregor, M. F., Wade-­Gery, H. T., 1939–53. The Athenian Tribute Lists. 4 volumes. Princeton. CH 1975–2010. Coin Hoards. 10 volumes. London and New York. ID 1926–72. Inscriptions de Délos. 7 volumes. Paris. IG Inscriptiones Graecae. IGBulg Mihailov, G., 1958–70, 1997. Inscriptiones graecae in Bulgaria repertae. Sofia. IGCH Thompson, M., Mørkholm, O., Kraay, C. M., Noe, S. P., 1973. An Inventory of Greek Coin Hoards. New York. Moretti, L., 1968–90. Inscriptiones graecae urbis Romae. Rome. IGUR I.Kalch. Merkelbach, R., Dörner, F. K., Şahin, S. 1980. Die Inschriften von Kalchedon. Bonn. IK.Rhod.Per. Blümel, W., 1991. Die Inschriften der Rhodischen Peraia. Bonn. I.Priene2 Blümel, W., Merkelbach, R., Rumscheid, F., 2014. Die Inschriften von Priene. Bonn. Blinkenberg, C., 1941. Lindos. Fouilles et recherches, 1902–1914. Vol. II: Lindos II Inscriptions. Copenhagen and Berlin. LSAG Jeffery, L.  H., 1990. The Local Scripts of Archaic Greece. Revised Edition. Oxford. ML Meiggs, R., Lewis, D. M., 1988. A Selection of Greek Historical Inscriptions to the End of the Fifth Century b.c. Revised Edition. Oxford. Osborne, R., Rhodes, P.  J., 2017. Greek Historical Inscriptions, 478–404 OR bc. Oxford. Pouilloux Pouilloux, J., 1954. Recherches sur l’histoire et les cultes de Thasos. Paris. RO Rhodes, P.  J., Osborne, R., 2003. Greek Historical Inscriptions, 404–323 bc. Oxford. SEG Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum. TAD Porten, B., Yardeni, A., 1986–93. Textbook of Aramaic Documents from Ancient Egypt. 3 volumes. Jerusalem. Tit.Cam. Pugliese Carratelli, G., Segre, M., 1949–51. Tituli Camirenses. Von Fritze Fritze, H.  von, 1912. ‘Die Elektronprägung von Kyzikos’. Nomisma 7, pp. 1–38.

List of Maps All maps were created by the author using Tableau Public.

Selymbria

Neapolis Thasos

Methone

Kyzikos Daskyleion

Aphytis

Chios

Chalkis Athens

Keos

Samos Priene

Rhodes

Map 1  Athens and the Aegean.

Strymon River

Macedon Aigai (Vergina)

Haliakmon River

Chalkidike Methone Pydna

Bottiaians

Olynthos

Thermaic Gulf

Potidaia

Aphytis

Sanctuary at Kallithea Mende

Skione

Map 2  The North Aegean from Macedon to the River Strymon.

Torone

Krenides

Berge

Neapolis

Strymon River Amphipolis Argilos

Nestos River Abdera

Pangaion Oisyme

Eion Galepsos

Thasos

Thasos Aliki

Map 3  The North Aegean from the River Strymon to Thasos.

Stryme?

Phaselis

Rhodes

Cyprus

Salamis Kition

Dor

Naukratis

Map 4  Rhodes and the Eastern Mediterranean.

Kos Amos Knidos (later location) Syme

Chersonesioi Loryma

Ialysos Kamiros Chalke

Rhodes Lindos

Map 5  Rhodes, Syme, Chalke, and the Chersonesioi.

Syme Rhodes Town Telos

Ialysos Kamiros Chalke

Rhodes Lindos

Saros

Brykous

Karpathos Karpathos Arkasseia Kasos

Map 6  Rhodes and Karpathos.

Bosporos Byzantion

Selymbria

Chrysopolis

Chalkedon

Propontis Astakos Prokonnesos Aegospotamoi Sestos

Lampsakos

Hellespont Sigeion

Map 7  The Hellespont, Propontis, and Bosporos.

Bysbikos Apameia

Kyzikos

Kios

Daskyleion on Sea Miletopolis Daskyleion

Prusa Mt. Olympos/Uludag˘

Berezan

Borysthenes/ Olbia

Myrmekion

Black Sea

Sinope

Bosporos

Map 8  The Bosporos and Black Sea.

Phanagoria

Introduction [ἀπαρχαὶ ℎαίδε χορὶς χ]σ̣ύμ̣[πασαι παρ]ὰ τ͂ον ℎελλ[ενοτ]αμῖον ℎ[οῖς ․․․7․․․] [․․․7․․․ ἐγραμμάτευ]ε πρ[͂ο]τ[αι τοῖσι] τριάκο[ντα ἀπ]εφάνθεσαν [τ͂ει θε͂οι] [τ͂ο χσυμμαχικ͂ο φόρο ἐ]πὶ Ἀρίσ̣[τονος] ἄρχοντος Ἀ[θεν]αίοις μνᾶ ἀ[πὸ τ͂ο ταλ][άντο]·   These first-­fruits, all separately, were the first to be declared to the Thirty by the Hellenotamiai to whom [----] was secretary for the goddess from the allied tribute in the archonship of Ariston at Athens, one mina per talent. Athenian tribute quota list, 454/3 bc1

0.1  A Familiar Monument of a Familiar Empire? In 454 bc, the Athenian Acropolis still bore the scars of the Persian sack of almost three decades before. No monumental structures had been built since the archaic temples and treasuries had been destroyed by the Persians, and their remains buried by the Athenians on their return to the city.2 It would only be at the beginning of the subsequent decade that the familiar architecture of the Parthenon would start to rise in the sanctuary, then the Propylaia, the Erechtheion, and Athena Nike temple.3 There were a handful of public inscriptions, some private 1  IG I3 259 = OR 119A lines 1–4. 2  This burial is well attested in the archaeological record: see Hurwit (2004) 53. Some minor building was carried out in the years 480–450 bc (Hurwit (2004) 53–64), and it is possible that the great bronze statue of Athena by Pheidias was erected after the battle of the Eurymedon in the second half of the 460s, and thus would have been the major landmark on the Acropolis at this time, but there is no firm evidence: see Foley and Stroud (2019) 141–6, who disassociate the statue from the accounts recorded in IG I3 435. 3 Parthenon: its construction between 447/6 and 433/2 is attested in the inscribed building accounts for the project (IG I3 436–51 = OR 145). Propylaia: securely dated to the 430s on the basis of inscribed accounts (IG I3 462–6). Erechtheion: the date of the conception of the project is contested but was perhaps at the same time as the Propylaia (Hurwit (2004) 206). The resumption of building, at which time the temple appears to have been completed, is shown by the accounts dating from 409/8 (IG I3 474–9 = OR 181). Athena Nike: dated (probably) c.420 on stylistic grounds (Hurwit (2004) 209–11); it is not clear how the temple is related to an inscribed decree ordering the building of a temple to Athena Nike (IG I3 35 = OR 137); see Mark (1993) 104–7, 115–22.

Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc. Leah Lazar, Oxford University Press. © Leah Lazar 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198896265.003.0001

2  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc dedications, but the Acropolis was not yet the epigraphic forest of the later clas­sic­al period. It was in this sparse sacred landscape that a massive marble block of over 3.5  metres in height, quarried from nearby Mount Pentele, was erected (see Figure 0.1). Only a few constituent blocks of the Parthenon would ever rival its size.4 At the top of one side, a list of numbers and names under a heading was inscribed. The names were the communities who had contributed tribute to the Athenians that year. Tribute was a key way in which the Athenians’ presence was felt in the communities under their control, the one aspect of Athenian power emphasized by Thucydides in his description of its origins after the Graeco-­ Persian Wars.5 The numbers recorded the one-­sixtieth portion taken by the Athenians from each community’s tribute contribution and dedicated to Athena as the aparchai or first-­fruits, thereby implicating these cities in the worship of the Athenians’ own goddess. This huge stone, or stele, would have been one of the most conspicuous monuments on the Acropolis, relatively empty compared to earlier and later years. It had religious significance: as a monument in the sacred space of the sanctuary, it can perhaps be regarded as a dedication in itself, not just a record of dedications.6 It was also a publicly accessible account in the public space of this democratic city. It showed that the Hellenotamiai, the magistrates in charge of tribute, had passed the correct dedications over to the auditors (logistai). But perhaps most of all, it was a strong declaration of Athenian ambition, even to an illiterate viewer. The stone’s expanse of uninscribed white marble was an emphatic statement through absence: there would be future dedications, future tribute contributions, and no end to Athenian power.7 Fourteen years later, all the surfaces of this first stone (hence its modern name, the lapis primus) had been filled, and another monumental slab of marble was erected for the inscription of the dedications.8 When this stone too was fully inscribed, smaller stelai were used.9 Across these stones, thousands of entries were recorded, listing dedications taken from communities from the Aegean and beyond. Even as the Acropolis was adorned with monumental architecture and numerous inscriptions, at least to some extent funded with the revenues derived from tribute,10 the lapis primus would continue to stand out. It was the largest inscribed stone ever erected by the Athenians, for all their epigraphic productivity. By 1927—two and a half millennia after its construction—­more than 180 ­fragments of the lapis primus had been found on or near the Acropolis. The first 4  Miles (2011) ingeniously suggests that the stone would have originally been intended for use in the Older Parthenon, the Parthenon’s immediate predecessor; her argument is convincing, particularly as it would explain the decreasing sizes of the subsequent stelai. 5 Thuc. 1.96–7.   6  See E. Meyer (2013). 7  Evocatively described by Stroud (2006) 12–13. 8  Lapis primus: IG I3 259–72 (454/3–440/39 bc). Lapis secundus: IG I3 273–80 (439/8–432/1 bc). 9  IG I3 281–90. 10  For a nuanced view on imperial finance and Athenian building, see Kallet-­Marx (1989a).

Introduction  3

Figure 0.1  Reconstruction of the first stone (lapis primus) of the tribute quota lists. ΕΜ­ 6647 + 13453. Epigraphic Museum, Athens. © Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports/Hellenic Organization of Cultural Resources Development (H.O.C.RE.D.).

fragments were published in the decades after the end of Ottoman rule and the foundation of the modern Greek state in 1821, when the antiquities of Athens began to be systematically studied. Now, the whole stele was to be reconstructed, the fragments ordered and set in plaster with iron supports. It is this reconstruction that still dominates the wonderful Epigraphic Museum in Athens, giving a sense of the original appearance of the monument.

4  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc The reconstruction was undertaken by a team of scholars, including Benjamin Meritt, Malcolm McGregor, and Theodore Wade-­Gery, who would go on to publish a new edition of the text on the stele, along with the other tribute quota lists, in the four suitably monumental volumes of the Athenian Tribute Lists, hereafter referred to as ATL (see Figure 0.2).11 Theirs was an extraordinary endeavour, but one that contributed to a particular scholarly outlook. By the third volume of the ATL, the editors had formed a linear narrative of the growth of Athenian power from a league of allies to an oppressive empire, in which the lists, other epigraphic evidence, and the literary sources—­that is to say, primarily Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War—­were woven together, and missing text in the inscriptions reconstructed in support. This process resulted in what Lisa Kallet has called ‘a near-­seamless picture of the Athenian empire’, where many aspects of its development and operation were neatly explained, mostly in terms of Athenian im­pos­ition of obligations on allied communities.12 The view of the editors of the ATL became the orthodox interpretation not only of the lists, but of Athenian power more broadly; it dominated twentieth-­century scholarship, providing a con­vin­cing­ly complete narrative that is familiar to many scholars and students of the ancient Greek world. The lapis primus, along with Thucydides, was the most familiar monument of this familiar empire. Due to its fragmentary state, such a complete restoration of the lapis primus is misleading. And due to the limited and heterogeneous nature of the sources, we cannot hope to write such a complete history of Athenian imperial power in the fifth century bc. But the lapis primus does exist, just in fragmentary form. We now need to remember its ‘strangeness’ and the ‘strangeness’ of the power that created it, to borrow Robert Parker’s apt term.13 This massive stone was an exceptional monument, the product of a new mode of interaction and exploitation in the Greek world. For the historian, it is an invaluable resource: it not only sheds light on Athenian power and its sophisticated fiscal system, but also provides unparalleled evidence for the economic potential of smaller Greek communities in the fifth century,14 many of which would not now be otherwise known (see Figure 0.3 for a detailed image of one of the lists).15 The tribute quota lists—­the surviving fragments, not the ATL reconstructions—­ will be some of the key sources analysed in this book. Moving away from the purely diachronic, empirical historiography and the centralized, hierarchical approaches favoured in twentieth-­century scholarship, I will offer a new understanding of Athenian power: one of negotiation, flexibility, and the potential for the assertion of allied agency. I do not deny, of course, that the Athenians were often ruthless in

11  Meritt, Wade-­Gery, and McGregor (1939, 1949, 1950, 1953). 12  Kallet (2009) 49. 13  Parker (2009) 8. 14  See the influential paper by Nixon and Price (1990). 15  As demonstrated by many entries in the Inventory of Archaic and Classical Greek Poleis: Hansen and Nielsen (2004).

Introduction  5

Figure 0.2  Drawing of the first stone (lapis primus) of the tribute quota lists, ATL 1 plate 1. Reprinted with the kind permission of the American School for Classical Studies in Athens.

their use of force and coercion, and in their focus on ex­ploit­ation. But, for a new imperial power in the ancient Aegean, faced with the realities of limited communication and a small number of personnel, it was necessary for the Athenians to be flexible and to enter into dialogue with the communities and individuals under their control. Based on close analysis of Athenian epigraphic and literary sources, I will argue that the Athenians were aware of the potential benefits of such a negotiated

6  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

Figure 0.3  Squeeze (paper mould) of a fragment of a tribute quota list from 442/41 bc (IG I3 270). Printed with the kind permission of the Center for Epigraphical and Palaeographical Studies, Ohio State University.

approach, perhaps more so as the century drew on. But I will also move away from exclusive focus on Athens, and Athenian evidence. Through comparison of the Athenian presence in three contested Aegean regions, I will demonstrate that Athenian power was formed of similar but locally differentiated manifestations, which elicited varied allied responses. Throughout this monograph, I will be aware of the limitations of possible analysis, given the lacunose and het­ero­ge­neous ­evidence. Nonetheless, new analysis is not only possible, but even necessary. As I write this, classicists and historians of the ancient Mediterranean, as part of a wider societal reckoning with the contemporary legacies of past empires and exploitation, are asking what shape our discipline should take in future years. Some question whether it should continue to exist at all, given its inextricable ties to colonial and European supremacist ideologies.16 New approaches to Athenian power, I believe, should be an important part of a disciplinary reassessment. The dominant orthodoxy of twentieth-­century scholarship on this canonical topic is not only misleadingly complete, but conditioned by sometimes latent, sometimes explicit, colonialist and western-­centric attitudes. While fresh empirical analysis 16 For an accessible presentation of some of these conversations in the mainstream media, see:  https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/02/magazine/classics-­greece-­rome-­whiteness.html (accessed 30/04/2021). For a recent collaborative attempt to define possible future routes for the discipline, see: The Postclassicisms Collective (2020).

Introduction  7 of the fifth-­century sources should be at the centre of any new approach, broader disciplinary and interdisciplinary conversations about imperial power and ex­ploit­ation can also play a role in shaping a postcolonial study of the Athenian empire. Before I lay out the framework of this monograph in more detail, then, a fuller overview of past scholarship on Athenian power is necessary, as is an explanation of how scholarship on other empires can lead to fruitful new lines of enquiry.

0.2  Two Centuries of Scholarship on the Athenian Empire Scholarship on Athenian power did not begin in the twentieth century, of course. Thucydides has always been read, and formal examinations of Athenian power began in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.17 Interest in Athenian power accelerated as the inscriptions attesting to its operation emerged in the first half of the nineteenth century and were published by Greek archaeologists such as Kyriakos Pittakys and Alexandros Rangavis;18 they were collected in Kirchhoff ’s 1873 Corpus Inscriptionum Atticarum.19 The groundwork for twentieth-­century scholarship began to be laid with systematic consideration of this epigraphic material, for example by Köhler, who explored what evidence inscriptions could provide for the mechanisms of Athenian power.20 The published version of Wilamowitz-­Moellendorff ’s 1880 birthday address to the Kaiser—­Von des attischen Reiches Herrlichkeit—­includes a final section on the decree for Chalkis.21 As the occasion for Wilamowitz’s analysis could not make more clear, the perspectives of these nineteenth-­century scholars were informed by their particular colonial and political contexts. This influence endured in twentieth-­century scholarly approaches to Athenian power. In Britain, apologetic analysis of Athenian power continued to be tied in closely with attitudes towards the British Empire.22 Across the Atlantic, the perception of Athens as the origin of western (i.e. American) culture and democracy was a key influence on historians, a prime example being Bonner’s 1933 Aspects of Athenian Democracy.23 The early twentieth century, in line with broader historiographical trends, also saw explicitly economic examinations of Athenian power, as in Bonner’s earlier article, ‘The commercial policy of imperial Athens’.24 Cornford’s 1907 monograph 17  See Liddel’s excellent overview (2009). 18  See Pittakys (1835); Rangavis (1842) publishing in French under Rangabé. 19  Kirchhoff (1873). 20  Köhler (1870). 21  Wilamowitz-­Moellendorff (1880); IG I3 40 = OR 131 (Chalkis decree). 22  Discussion by Harrison (2005). 23  Bonner (1933); see Samons (2004) for a reassessment of Athenian democracy and its significance for modern American political thought. 24  Bonner (1923).

8  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc on Thucydides includes analysis of the Megarian decrees and Athens’s western policy, while Grundy’s 1911 contribution contains a chapter on the economic background to the Periklean democracy and the Athenian empire.25 There was, however, no single scholarly orthodoxy. The basis for the general twentieth-­century understanding of Athenian power was set with the publication of the four volumes of the Athenian Tribute Lists from 1939.26 These provided an authoritative reconstruction of the tribute quota lists, in line with the editors’ understanding of fifth-­century Athenian history. Working with the lists is difficult and technical, so scholars without epigraphic expertise became reliant on the editors’ interpretation when accessing this crucial evidence.27 The editors also considered other inscriptions in these volumes and in supplementary articles, Meritt in particular.28 They were influential proponents of the dating of fifth-­century Attic inscriptions on the basis of letter forms. Most fifth-­ century Athenian inscriptions cannot be dated securely using internal evidence (such as through magistrate names), so historians have often turned to other criteria. The ATL editors, following a line of scholars dating back to Rangavis, saw the presence of a sigma with three bars (as opposed to four bars), along with a rho with a tail, as indicating a date before 447/6 bc, when the three-­bar sigma appears in the tribute quota lists for the last time.29 With the help of inscriptions dated in this way, along with the restored tribute quota lists and Thucydides’ account—­particularly his description of the growth of Athenian power during the Pentekontaetia (the fifty years between the Graeco-­ Persian and Peloponnesian Wars)30—a linear narrative of development was constructed, from an autonomous league of allies united against Persia to an oppressive Athenian empire by the middle of the century, then from a more moderate empire under the leadership of Perikles in the 440s (attested in inscriptions with the three-­bar sigma), to a crueller power under the demagogue Kleon in the 420s (shown by inscriptions with the four-­bar sigma). Russell Meiggs contributed to the advancement of this narrative, first in a series of articles, and then in his masterful 1972 monograph, The Athenian Empire.31 Across the channel, Jacqueline de Romilly’s consideration of Athenian power

25  Cornford (1907); Grundy (1911). 27  Kallet (2009) 49. 26  For further discussion see Kallet (2009). 28  For example, see the many articles by Meritt entitled ‘Greek Inscriptions’ or ‘Notes on Attic Decrees’ published over a number of decades in Hesperia. 29  IG I3 265. On the three-­bar sigma controversy see Rhodes (2008); Papazarkadas (2009). 30  Thuc. 1.89–117. 31  Meiggs (1943, 1949, 1966, 1972). It must be noted that Meiggs’s work contains much foundational analysis and will be cited regularly in this monograph. See also the shorter 1987 narrative study by McGregor.

Introduction  9 under Perikles, Kleon, and Alkibiades successively constructed a not dissimilar narrative of progressive development.32 Moses Finley, following Max Weber, also influenced the way Athenian power was understood through his work on the ancient economy. He saw Athenian power as a purely political phenomenon, with economic motives existing only in the sphere of the individual.33 Following his lead, scholarship mostly left behind the explicitly economic approaches of the early twentieth century. It should be noted, however, that Finley bore no truck with some of the key preoccupations of other scholars such as the three-­bar sigma, considered the dating of inscriptions to be ‘the subject of open controversy’.34 But Finley was limited by the same apologist understanding of Athenian power that influenced Meiggs. Thomas Harrison, in an excellent chapter, demonstrates how the discourse of British colonialism permeates both scholars’ work; for example, they both consider the advantages and disadvantages of Athenian power using the phrase ‘the balance-­sheet of empire’, which originally was used in relation to India under British colonial rule.35 The ATL editors’ texts of the tribute quota lists, as well as of other documents, were carried over into the third edition of the first volume of Inscriptiones Graecae in 1981, edited by Meritt’s student David Lewis, where the fifth-­century Athenian public documents are published. Lewis had previously collaborated with Meiggs to produce a more accessible guide to some of the more prominent inscriptions.36 There were other important voices, not least the Marxist historian Geoffrey de Ste. Croix, who applied twentieth-­century concepts of class to the ancient world.37 For the most part, however, the ATL/Meiggs narrative was the dominant picture of Athenian power, at least in the anglophone academy. It was based on the integration of Thucydides and the epigraphic evidence, and created by a small number of scholars. It promoted a focus on narrative and linear development, and on Athens as the imperial centre. It contained little focused economic analysis. It was convincingly comprehensive, and it was hard to contest given that it was the same scholars both developing this understanding of Athenian power and publishing the inscriptions which attested to its operation. This view did not go unchallenged. Harold Mattingly spent much of his career questioning the validity of the three-­bar sigma as a dating criterion, albeit to aid his own linear historical interpretation and consequent later dating of many inscriptions.38 His views initially gained little traction. But an important article published in 1990 proved him right on the matter of the three-­bar sigma; an interdisciplinary group of scholars used laser technology to read the archon

32  De Romilly (1963), first published in French in 1947. 33  Finley (1981). 34  Finley (1981) 46. 35  Meiggs (1972) 255–72; Finley (1981); Harrison (2005). 36  Meiggs and Lewis (1969), with later reissues and revisions. 37  De Ste. Croix (1954, 1972). 38  See Mattingly (1996) for his collected papers.

10  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc (chief magistrate) name on the Athenian decree for Egesta, securely dating it to 418/17 bc even though it contained the letter form.39 This reading was subsequently confirmed through autopsy by one of the leading Athenian epigraphists of the post-ATL generation, Angelos Matthaiou.40 Stephen Tracy’s analysis of letter-­cutters and letter styles then provided an even more decisive and systematic rebuttal.41 The dates of many inscriptions, once considered certain, were called into ­question, and thus also the narrative constructed around them. Scholars were made to ask what is left if the inscriptions cannot be securely dated and hence fitted into a Thucydidean framework. Although there has been no new complete narrative of Athenian power to replace Meiggs, there has been exciting scholarship on Athenian power in the three decades since 1990, championing various approaches.42 A more sophisticated understanding of the ancient economy has been integrated into the study of Athenian power.43 Lucia Nixon and Simon Price, in an influential paper, extract economic data from the tribute quota lists,44 while Lisa Kallet and J.  K.  Davies trace the economic origins of Athenian power in the late archaic period.45 Alfonso Moreno offers a reassessment of the Athenian grain supply in the fifth and fourth centuries.46 Fresh conceptual frameworks have also been applied: Polly Low, among others, utilizes methodologies first developed in the field of international relations.47 In line with broader trends in ancient historical scholarship, there has been a move away from a centralized focus on Athens. Across the discipline, the new millennium has seen exploration of the dynamics of different regions in the interconnected Mediterranean, incorporating ecological and geographical approaches. Horden and Purcell’s elucidation of the ecologies of micro-­regions connected to each other by the sea has been highly influential, as has Irad Malkin’s application of network theory to the archaic Greek world.48 In the spirit of Louis Robert, there have been new contributions to regional history, with acknowledgement of the broader Mediterranean context.49 Christy Constantakopoulou’s 2007 monograph applies such regional awareness to the fifth century, looking at Athenian

39  IG I3 11 = OR 166 with Chambers, Galluci, and Spanos (1990). 40  Matthaiou (2004). 41  Tracy (2016). 42  Note also Low (2008), which collects together some of the ‘classic’ papers on the empire from the previous decades. 43  Samons (2000) on Athenian imperial finance; Figueira and Jensen (2019). 44  Nixon and Price (1990). 45  Kallet (2013); Davies (2013). See also Zaccarini (2017) for an examination of early fifth-­century Athenian power under the leadership of Kimon. 46  Moreno (2007). 47 Low (2007) for a study of Greek interstate relations (including Athens); Morris (2009) for Athenian power as a process of state formation. 48  Horden and Purcell (2000); Malkin (2011). 49  For example, Thonemann (2011).

Introduction  11 power in the context of the Kyklades.50 Meanwhile, John Ma’s 2009 case study, a chapter in an important volume on the Athenian empire, zooms in on Athenian interaction with the small community of the Eteokarpathians on the island of Karpathos near Rhodes.51 Both contributions have been influential in the conceptualization of this book.52 There has also been much new scholarship on the epigraphic material, including the suggestion of alternative dates,53 new editions of texts,54 and fresh ana­lysis.55 As mentioned above, the foremost authority on Athenian letter-­cutters, Stephen Tracy, has provided an invaluable study of fifth-­century Athenian decrees.56 The publication of Robin Osborne and P.  J.  Rhodes’s guide to fifth-­century Greek inscriptions offers revised editions, translations, and commentaries of many key texts, with acknowledgement of the difficulties around dating.57 The work led by Stephen Lambert at Attic Inscriptions Online has illuminated an even greater range of Athenian inscriptions for a wide audience. There have also been important contributions to the study of Thucydides, from Lisa Kallet’s economic analysis to Simon Hornblower’s commentaries;58 and numismatic evidence has increasingly been integrated into the broader historical picture.59 Despite these new directions in scholarship on fifth-­century Athenian power, The Athenian Tribute Lists and Meiggs’s The Athenian Empire are still a first point of reference on the subject for many scholars. Some of the same preoccupations are still to be found, including apologist consideration of what benefit Greek communities derived from Athenian power, and limited focus on particular inscriptions. For some students of ancient history, in anglophone universities at any rate, the ATL/Meiggs narrative still dominates, and they believe the subject to be a closed book. So how can this narrative be contested? In this monograph, I will build on the important new directions I have just outlined: my key concerns will include 50  Constantakopoulou (2007). See also Bonnin (2015) for a further study of Athenian power in the Kyklades. 51  Ma (2009); see also Anderson and Dix (2004) on the Eteokarpathians. 52  See also Kowalzig (2007), which constructs local histories under the shadow of Athenian power through analysis of choral poetry; Erickson (2005) for use of ceramic material to discern Athenian economic intervention in Crete; Thonemann (2009) on Athenian interaction with the Achaemenids in Lykia; Russell (2017) chapter 1 on fifth-­century Athenian taxation at the Bosporos; Driscoll (2018), which offers a number of regional studies of Athenian power; Ellis-­Evans (2019) chapter  4 on Athenian power in the context of the Mytilenean mainland territory. 53  Rhodes (2008); Papazarkadas (2009). 54  Much work has been done by Angelos Matthaiou, some of which is collected in his 2009 doctoral thesis; Paarman’s 2007 doctoral thesis, available online, offers new editions of the tribute quota lists. 55  Low (2005) analyses Athenian decrees for ‘the language of imperialism’; Liddel (2010) compares Athenian and allied epigraphic output. 56  Tracy (2016). 57  Osborne and Rhodes (2017). 58 Kallet-­Marx (1993); Kallet (2001); Hornblower (1991, 1996, 2008). See also Rood (1998); Fragoulaki (2013). 59  See Figueira (1998); Ellis-­Evans (2018) chapter 4; Kallet and Kroll (2020).

12  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc economic analysis, regional history, and new consideration of epigraphic and numismatic evidence. But, in addition, awareness of alternative approaches to empire in the broader discipline of ancient history, and in historical studies more generally, will help to inform my point of departure.

0.3  An Athenian Empire? Before discussing these approaches, however, I should first address the much-­ vexed question of vocabulary. Can I use the term ‘empire’? This choice, of course, is meaningful and carries interpretative weight for my analysis.60 Moreover, comparison with other empires to a certain extent depends on whether Athenian power is considered ‘imperial’. The unique and unprecedented nature of Athenian power must be ac­know­ ledged. The dedication of the first-­fruits and the inscription of the lapis primus, for instance, have no close comparanda from any other empire, at least to my knowledge. Although it originated in an alliance, Athenian power was in many ways a new and experimental phenomenon in a Greek context (with the Peloponnesian League perhaps providing the closest precedent). If one wanted to define Athenian power through its distinctiveness, then, one could use the Greek term arche untranslated, as Lisa Kallet does in her 2013 contribution. Thucydides labels the Athenian leadership at the beginning of his Pentekontaetia as a hegemonia, but soon switches to the term arche;61 and arche is also found in Old Comedy.62 Both Thucydides and Aristophanes, however, acknowledge the origins of Athenian power in the alliance of Greek states, and the maintained Athenian rhetoric of alliance when they refer to the cities under Athenian control: Aristophanes generally uses the neutral poleis, sometimes symmachoi (allies),63 while symmachoi is the favoured term in Thucydides.64 Some inscriptions also use symmachoi, although they can also represent Athenian rule in blunter terms (‘the cities which the Athenian rule’).65 But it is not only Athenian power that was distinctive; it is hard to pinpoint one definition which encompasses all ancient and modern power structures which have been labelled as ‘empires’, given how historically specific such phenomena are. Consequently, Michael Doyle’s programmatic but flexible definition has been influential for many scholars:

60  See Kallet (2009) 56–8 for a useful summary. 61  Thuc. 1.96. 62  For example, Kratinos fr. 171 line 71. 63  Both are found in quick succession in Peace: Ar. Pax. 619, 639. Aristophanes also refers to allies regularly as ‘islands’, reflecting a conception of Athenian power as particularly Aegean: see Constantakopoulou (2007) 77–80. 64  For example, Thuc. 3.6. 65  See Low (2005).

Introduction  13 Empire, I shall argue, is a system of interaction between two political entities, one of which, the dominant metropole, exacts political control over the internal and external policy—­the effective sovereignty—­of the other, the subordinate periphery.66

This definition is not without its problems—­not least the application of a centre/ periphery model which can encourage hierarchical and centralized analysis—­but it does create a concise, flexible means of judging what constitutes an ‘empire’. Although the evidence is difficult, moreover, fifth-­century Athenian power does fulfil this definition. Clearly, the Athenians controlled aspects of their allies’ ‘external policy’, making alliances on their behalf, and directing their military activity. There is also evidence to suggest that the Athenians directed their ‘in­tern­al policy’. In Chapter 2, for example, I will argue that the Athenian exaction of tribute entailed a level of interference in communities’ internal fiscal structures. Moreover, at least in particular instances, the Athenians clearly intervened in allies’ internal political and legal organization.67 I therefore believe that the use of the terms ‘empire’ and ‘imperial’ are not unjustified, even though fifth-­century Athens did not look exactly like other empires. Where convenient, I will also use the less specific ‘power’, which is another possible translation of arche. This term comes with its own range of associations but is recognizable in its basic meaning: the capacity to direct or influence the behaviour of others. I will use ‘ally’ rather than ‘subject’, however, as it is a less contested translation of the term used by Athenian authors. I hope that this choice of English vocabulary will make my monograph more accessible, especially to those readers without knowledge of Greek, and will aid comparison with historically similar phenomena (both within the book but also beyond it). Even so, the choice is a fairly arbitrary one, and I hope that those ­readers who object to it will not dismiss my analysis more broadly. As Moses Finley memorably puts it: It would have been small consolation to the Melians, as the Athenian soldiers and sailors fell upon them, to be informed that they were about to become the victims of a hegemonial, not an imperial measure.68

0.3.1  Empires and Negotiation Given that Athenian power can, in my view, be defined as imperial, what useful insights can be derived from scholarship on comparable imperial powers?

66  Doyle (1986) 12.

67  See, for example, Chapter 1.2.

68  Finley (1981) 42.

14  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Scholars of fifth-­century Athenian power have rarely engaged in such discussion,69 but I hope that even brief consideration of recent approaches to other Mediterranean empires can help to shape productive questions, in particular through exploration of the concept of negotiation. It is widely recognized by historians that empires—­along with other kinds of hegemonic and state structures—­are negotiated entities.70 No imperial, hege­ mon­ic, or state power functions as an entirely centralized, top-­down imposition. Negotiation is a useful strategy for the expansion or consolidation of authority, but also allows subjects the opportunity to assert agency, with the power controlling the process. Powers sometimes provide defined contexts or systems of negotiation, channelling the energies of subjects into negotiation rather than protest or revolt, thus creating cooperation or even complicity. Further, negotiation over political, legal, military, or fiscal circumstances, leading to greater agency for the subject, can allow the power to expend fewer resources in asserting its authority in these spheres. In this regard, the fiscal system is a particularly common context of negotiation.71 Influential and elite individuals often play a role in supporting such negotiated relationships for both empires and subjects. To give an example, Monique O’Connell has shown how negotiation was used extensively in the Venetian maritime empire from the thirteenth century ad onwards.72 The Venetian empire, in which Aegean cities (among others) were controlled by a single dominant city with an internal republican political system, provides a not entirely distant comparison for fifth-­century bc Athens. O’Connell, analysing extensive documentary evidence including correspondence and legal records, describes how cities negotiated with Venice for special statuses and priv­ il­eges at the time of their incorporation into the empire;73 how there was space for negotiation in the imperial legal system, giving ‘both elite and common residents the opportunity to pursue their claims and articulate their grievances in a space controlled by Venetian interests’;74 and how both individuals and cities could petition Venice for certain favours and privileges, known as grazie.75 These means of negotiation were established mechanisms of empire, granting subjects opportunities to protest within a system defined by the Venetians; it was supported by networks of prominent individuals and their families in Venice and the empire. This kind of analysis has been applied extensively to the ancient Mediterranean, especially to negotiation in the Roman empire, in the highly regimented form of 69  Morris (2009) is a notable exception. However, his attempt to define Athenian power as a state is in my view flawed, as aspects of statehood such as territoriality and unified government do not apply to the Athenian case. Ma (2009) also briefly considers Athenian power in the light of Hellenistic royal power. 70 See, for example, Daniels and Kennedy (2002) on the use of negotiation by empires in the Americas. 71  See Bang (2015) for negotiation in fiscal contexts. 72  O’Connell (2009). 73  O’Connell (2009) 31–3. 74  O’Connell (2009) 75. 75  O’Connell (2009) 97–118.

Introduction  15 petition. Fergus Millar, in his seminal study of the role of Roman emperor and his relationship with the empire, argues that the governance of the empire was largely reactive, depending on the mechanism of petition and response.76 Subjects, both individuals and communities, petitioned the emperor, as well as other Roman officials, for rulings on a range of matters, including the resolution of disputes and the award of privileges; and the resulting correspondence was often recorded. This process was one of the primary means by which governance was established. The reactive approach to governance allowed the empire to have a limited ­governmental structure, where fewer resources were expended on administration. It depended heavily on the figure of the emperor himself, and a widespread understanding of his personal obligation to his imperial subjects. Noel Lenski, expanding on Millar’s approach in his 2016 study of Constantine, provides a ­concise summary of the relationship between power and negotiation: Power must be treated as a complex equation with multiple variables that cannot be resolved with reference to the ruler alone. This is not to deny that the emperor’s power was vast, but any discussion of that power must factor in the fundamental reality that it was a matter of negotiation and mutual agreement.77

This ‘complex equation’ was arguably even more complex in the earlier Republican period, when Roman rule was less well established, and was asserted in regional contexts by individual power-­holders operating under varying degrees of oversight by the multipolar senate.78 Badian’s foundational 1958 Foreign Clientelae has long since illuminated the importance of the personal networks of Roman magis­ trates in the assertion of Roman power during this time. In the Greek east, moreover, Rome could follow a precedent of negotiation with communities and individuals set by the Hellenistic kings.79 John Ma, in his im­port­ ant study of western Asia Minor under the Seleukid king Antiochos III,80 describes the process of surrender and grant, the negotiation of local statuses of poleis, ­following the Seleukid takeover.81 This process strengthened Seleukid power:

76  Millar (1992) 6. See also Millar (2006), where Millar applies his own model to the reign of Theodosius II; Errington (2006) for an application of the model to the empire after Constantine; Corcoran (2000) for discussion of petitions from individuals under the Tetrarchs; Boatwright (2000) for Hadrian’s interactions with cities. 77  Lenski (2016) 12. 78  In a previous contribution, I explore a particular example of this ‘complex equation’ in late Hellenistic Phrygia with the arrival of Rome: Chin and Lazar (2020). 79 See, for example, Jordan (2021) on the Roman use of Seleukid models of negotiation. Correspondence from Hellenistic (including Seleukid, Ptolemaic, and Attalid) kings to Greek cities collected in Welles (1974). 80  Ma (1999). See also Capdetrey (2007) for discussion of the varied statuses of cities under the Seleukids. 81  Ma (1999) 111.

16  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc By allowing itself to be . . . petitioned into giving privileges . . . the empire of domination channelled the energies of the ruled into petition rather than resistance or defection, into improving the immediate situation rather than challenging the framework of imperial authority.82

Further negotiation took place between the poleis and the Seleukid king after their incorporation into the Seleukid kingdom in a process of petition and response, whereby cities asked for royal benefactions. The outcomes of these negotiations were recorded in the canonical epigraphic formats of the royal letter and the civic decree.83 The homogeneity of the inscriptions shows a real context of negotiation defined by set parameters, as formulaic language implies formulaic process. Negotiation was thus built into the structures of Seleukid power, allowing subjects to assert agency and the king to assert control. Elspeth Dusinberre, with more limited documentary evidence at her disposal, has developed a new framework to understand this ‘complex equation’ in the context of the Achaemenid Persian empire.84 Dissatisfied with the application of a centre–­periphery paradigm to Achaemenid Anatolia, she proposes instead an ‘authority–­autonomy framework’, which takes into account local autonomous agency, the necessity for the Achaemenid authority in implementing local agency, and the consequent variability in the local manifestations of Achaemenid ­control.85 I will not take over Dusinberre’s model wholesale, but an alternative paradigm to that of centre/periphery, which considers the variable balance between imperial authority and local agency in different contexts, is helpful, not least because Achaemenid power operated in the same areas as Athenian power, even overlapping with it. The Achaemenid empire may also have acted as a model for its Athenian counterpart, particularly with regards to their respective fiscal systems.86 The Athenians, like the Venetians, Romans, Seleukids, and Achaemenids, attempted to control a geographically disparate empire formed of different kinds of polity. They did so with the support of a fairly small number of personnel,87 and without being able to enforce the constant threat of violence in all 82  Ma (1999) 171. 83  Ma (1999) 182. 84  Dusinberre (2013). 85  Dusinberre (2013) 3–8. 86  See, for example, Raaflaub (2009) for the (in my view overly extensive) argument that many mechanisms of Athenian power were inspired by the Persian example. Miller’s comprehensive 1997 study looks at Athenian/Persian cross-­cultural influence. Some scholars have maintained that the Achaemenid influence on Athenian tribute is directly indicated by a (much-­debated) passage of Herodotus (6.42); for example, see ATL 3 275. Murray (1966) convincingly suggests that this passage should rather be interpreted as the continued claim of the Great King to the tribute of these cities; see Chapter 6.2.d. 87  The patchy fifth-­century evidence for Athenian officials abroad seems to contradict the assertion of the late fourth-­century Aristotelian Athenian Constitution that there were around seven hundred Attic officials overseas ([Arist]. Ath. Pol. 24.3); for studies of Athenian officials in allied communities see Meiggs (1972) 212–15; Balcer (1976).

Introduction  17 communities. It follows, therefore, that there was a particular ‘complex equation’ between Athenian authority and allied agency which allowed the empire to operate, a negotiated relationship between Athens and allied communities.88 The approaches to other empires that I have briefly outlined flag a number of possible avenues of exploration vis-­à-­vis the particular shape of this relationship. To what extent did the Athenians actively provide for negotiation, and to what extent did they interact with subjects reactively? What role did influential or elite in­di­vid­ uals play in supporting community-­level interactions? How did the ‘complex equation’ vary from region to region, from community to community? What testimony can documentary sources provide, given their importance in illuminating negotiation processes in other cases? Such questions can help to mark out a different approach to Athenian power more in line with contemporary postcolonial understandings of empire. Allowing for negotiation is not apologist. It does not preclude the possibility of Athenian violence or rapacity;89 in fact, it allows for a better understanding of how ex­ploit­ ation operated. Further, it emphatically acknowledges allied communities and individuals as active agents, and brings their experiences to centre stage. This monograph is not intended to be systematically comparative, at least in terms of comparison with empires of other geographies and periods; I will rather employ comparison between the operation of Athenian power in different p ­ eriods, and, even more so, between fifth-­century Athenian power in different regions. But this brief discussion illuminates the origins of my particular approach; and I will employ some further comparative observations where relevant. The exception is the key contemporary power to which Athens can be compared, the Achaemenid empire; its interaction with the Athenian empire will be analysed more extensively, especially in the final two chapters. One of the reasons why systematic comparison across different empires is potentially difficult is that the contemporary evidence for Athenian power is distinctive, providing much of value but also presenting particular analytical difficulties. In my view, however, the available evidence does allow for the exploration of multi-­directional, even negotiated, relationships between the Athenians and their allies.

0.4  Sources: From Thucydides to Aristophanes The testimony for the Athenian empire, as I have emphasized, can be lacunose and difficult. But we are also lucky to have a plethora of diverse sources, from 88  Forrest’s 1975 paper on Aristophanes highlights the inherent flexibility of Athenian power. 89  One only needs to think of Xenophon’s famous list of Athenian atrocities after the defeat at Aigospotamoi to recognize this: Xen. Hel. 2.2.3.

18  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc historical writings to comic plays, coinage to inscribed documents, which attest to the workings of Athenian power and to the complex interactions between the Athenians and their allies. In putting together this evidential jigsaw, one needs to be aware of the particular texture of evidence provided by each source. The Athenian historian Thucydides, of course, will be central in this monograph; as a contemporary witness, to whose brilliant historical project Athenian power was central, how could he not be? He provides our narrative historical framework; readers who desire that kind of overview should turn in particular to his first book, a study of the immediate and long-­term causes of the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War in 431 bc, which tracks the development of Athenian power from the aftermath of the Graeco-­ Persian Wars in 478 bc.90 For Thucydides, it was the growth of Athenian power that brought Athens and Sparta into conflict.91 In his remaining seven books, Thucydides then describes the progression of the war between the Athenians and the Peloponnesians in greater detail, including its first phase, the so-­called Archidamian War, concluding with the Peace of Nikias in 421 bc, then the ill-­fated Athenian expedition to Sicily of 415 bc, and finally the renewed hostilities of the Ionian War from 413 bc, when much of the fighting occurred in the eastern Aegean and Western Anatolia. Unfortunately, Thucydides’ narrative breaks off unfinished with the tumultuous events of 411 bc. Scholars have often discussed what Thucydides omits from his narrative,92 sometimes accusing him of incompleteness, even bias.93 But it is important to remember that Thucydides had his own literary agenda; he chronicles the war between the Athenians and the Peloponnesians within his own explanatory framework. His work is not composed of pure, unfiltered historical data; as Tim Rood helpfully explains, he is telling a ‘story’.94 Many of Thucydides’ interests, happily, tally with my own (or rather, I should say, my own interests are shaped by his). He has acute financial understanding, which will be key to my economic analysis.95 Indeed, the opening of his work, the so-­called Archaeology, where he describes the progression of sea power throughout history, could not make it any clearer that such sea power depended on financial resources.96 Where relevant to his narrative, Thucydides also demonstrates significant awareness of the world beyond Athens. My study of the North Aegean in particular (Chapter 4) will depend on his deep knowledge of the region.

90 For a contemporary narrative overview, Meiggs (1972) should still be the first port of call. A number of chapters in Rhodes (2006) provide more concise summaries. 91  Thuc. 1.23.6. 92 For a recent consideration of Thucydides’ lack of interest in Persia, for example, see Luraghi (2018). 93  This was the case even in antiquity: see Dion. Hal. Pomp. 3. 94  Rood (1998) 4. 95  As illuminated by Kallet-­Marx (1993); Kallet (2001). 96  Thuc. 1.2–20, with the helpful chapter by Van Wees (2017).

Introduction  19 Thucydides, moreover, undoubtedly pays attention to diplomatic interactions in the empire, hinting at the possibility of negotiation and of individual allied representatives exerting real influence on Athenian decision-­making. We learn from him, for example, that the Mytilenean ambassadors present in Athens after Mytilene’s capitulation to Athens in 427 bc had Athenian supporters, and were able to push successfully for a second debate after the Athenians voted to put all the men on the island to death.97 In 415 bc, deceptive negotiation on the part of the Egestaeans—­their report, Thucydides notes drily, was ‘as attractive as it was untrue’—gave the Athenians the impetus to send out their ill-­fated fleet to Sicily.98 But it must be acknowledged that in Thucydides’ show-­ piece discursive sections—­primarily his speeches—­he constructs a unique dialectic on Athenian power, and indeed on interstate power relations more broadly, which is more ambivalent about the possibility of real dialogue in imperial relations.99 For Thucydides (or at least many of his speakers), relations between states were defined through expedience and self-­interest. On the one hand, this entailed innate variation in the Athenian treatment of allied communities, as self-­interest dictated that Athenian responses to the empire be targeted to local conditions. The sentiment is summed up by Euphemos, the Athenian ambassador at the conference at Kamarina in Sicily in 415/14 bc, in his attempt to persuade the Kamarinans of the Athenians’ good intentions: Besides, for tyrants and imperial cities nothing is unreasonable if expedient . . . friendship and enmity is everywhere a matter of time and circumstance. Here, in Sicily, our interest is not to weaken our friends, but by means of our strength to cripple our enemies. Why doubt this? In Hellas we treat our allies as we find them useful. The Chians and Methymnians govern themselves and furnish ships; most of the rest have harder terms and pay tribute in money; while others, although islanders would be easier to take, are free altogether, because they occupy convenient positions around the Peloponnese.100

This focus on self-­interest, however, also precludes any acknowledgement of the possibility for real dialogue between the Athenians and allied communities, because of the unequal power dynamic: the Athenians are bound to act as any more powerful state would act. Rhetoric, paradoxically, is a key tool employed by Thucydides to dramatize this; Euphemos’ speech is one of a number of examples. The significant place direct speech holds in Thucydides’ narrative correlates with the ubiquitous role of oratory in the world he represents, so on one level implies 97  Thuc. 3.36. 98  Thuc. 6.8.2. Note that the Egestaeans, like other communities in Sicily, did not pay tribute. 99 For a discussion of Thucydides’ presentation of Greek interstate relations, see Low (2007) 222–33. 100  Thuc. 6.85.1–2.

20  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc the potential for negotiation, and gives a sense of the language that ambassadors may have used. Thucydides, however, often uses it ironically, to show just how little impact persuasion actually had.101 The apogee of Thucydides’ ironic rhetoric is the famous Melian Dialogue.102 The Athenians are unmoved by the Melians’ attempts at persuasion, completely ignoring their arguments, and instead stating their view on power in blunt terms: Of the gods we believe, and of men we know, that by a necessary law of their nature they rule wherever they can.103

But Thucydides’ speeches are not faithful historical reports, least of all the Melian Dialogue, which was presumably entirely Thucydides’ own composition. They are vehicles for his own particular dialectic on Athenian power, and inter-polis relations more broadly. They cannot be considered representative of the exact rhet­ oric that was used, let alone of the underlying diplomatic considerations and dynamics. It is perhaps revealing, moreover, that Thucydides chooses to represent the impossibility of real diplomatic dialogue through the medium of speech: the irony implies that he is defying expectations, that others believed dialogue actually mattered. He is also selective in his use of speeches, deploying them at moments he particularly wishes to emphasize. Consequently, he does not use direct speech to dramatize potential negotiation processes between the Athenians and communities within the empire, presumably because they did not serve his argument as well as other examples. The Melians were not Athenian allies: according to Thucydides, they tried to retain neutrality, hence the Athenians’ brutal treatment of them.104 The Mytileneans, who were autonomous and ship-­ contributing allies until 427 bc, are given a speech at Olympia in front of a Spartan audience in Book 2, but never a speech in the Athenian assembly.105 The only speech we get from an allied community to the Athenian assembly is that of the Corcyraeans in Book 1; but relatively wealthy and powerful Corcyra was far from a typical ally, and was never recorded as a tribute-­contributor.106 In sum, then, in his more discursive passages, Thucydides presents an idiosyncratic exploration of inter-polis relations that is not concerned with the actual 101  The bibliography on the use of speeches and rhetoric in Thucydides is, of course, voluminous. Tsakmakis’s 2017 contribution provides a useful introduction. For my purposes, Macleod (1983) has been especially influential; see, in particular, chapter 9. 102  Thuc. 5.84–114. See Macleod (1983) chapter 8. 103  Thuc. 5.105.2. 104  The Melians’ alleged neutrality is complicated by epigraphic evidence: the Athenians had at least attempted to exact tribute from them, as revealed by the tribute reassessment decree of 425/4 bc: IG I3 71 = OR 153 line 65. The ‘Spartan War Fund’ inscription reveals that the Melians had made (fairly small) monetary contributions to the Spartans at some point in the years before their destruction by the Athenians: IG 5 1 1 = OR 151. 105  For the Mytilenean speech at Olympia, see Thuc. 3.8–15. 106  Thuc. 1.32–6.

Introduction  21 dynamics and processes of diplomacy conducted within the empire, especially with smaller communities. Crucially, however, elsewhere he does not preclude the possibility of negotiation within imperial diplomacy; he just does not describe it in great detail. I thus believe that my approach in this monograph is not unjustified. I will make extensive use of Thucydides, but I will be aware of the lens through which information in his work is refracted, and I will use alternative sources where they are more relevant. I will not, however, neglect Thucydides’ key argument, acknowledging the distorting effect that Athenian power had on the shape of inter-polis relations, and the significance of force alongside any dialogue. The testimony provided by Thucydides can be supplemented with other his­ tori­og­raphy, in particular his older colleague Herodotus (who lived through at least the first phase of the Peloponnesian War) and his younger follower Xenophon, whose Hellenica picks up where Thucydides’ work leaves off. I will also make some occasional use of surviving forensic speeches, including works by the contemporary orators Andokides, Antiphon, and Lysias, although the ora­tor­ ic­al corpus of the fifth and fourth centuries no doubt merits more extensive exploitation than I will be able to provide here.107 The literary genre which will play a more prominent role in my analysis, however, particularly in the first two chapters, is fifth-­century comedy. Aristophanes is another contemporary witness, and one whose testimony is sometimes neglected in analysis of the Athenian empire.108 Aristophanes had his own particular agenda and interests, as a comic playwright competing at the Dionysia and Lenaia festivals. His humour is necessarily focused on the Athenian political landscape, not the varied regions of the empire, and mostly on the individual figures who populated it rather than the underlying dynamics and processes in which they participated (although sometimes this focus on individuals will be helpful, as I will explore). But his plays do contain mockery of the aspects of Athenian empire which impacted on the Athenian audience. Like Thucydides, therefore, he demonstrates an incisive financial awareness.109 And, as I will discuss in Chapter 1, he is interested in imperial diplomatic interactions. In one case, an imperial diplomatic process is indirectly presented on stage. In Aristophanes’ Birds of 414 bc, the protagonist Peisthetairos leaves Athens to escape his debts and establishes a new city of birds, Cloudcuckooland, in the sky. But Peisthetairos’ foundation soon becomes an exaggerated mirror of its mother-­ city, taking the Athenian imperial agenda to comic extremes by blocking the gods 107  Canevaro (2013) and Liddel (2020a, 2020b), for example, provide recent examples of how the evidence of oratory and epigraphy can be brought together, with many relevant insights for this study. 108  See, however, the focused contributions by Forrest (1975); Meiggs (1972) 391–6. I explore what Old Comedy can tell us about popular Athenian perceptions of the empire in (Forthcoming b). 109  See, for example, Thonemann (2020) for a study of Aristophanes’ financial awareness in Lysistrata.

22  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc from receiving offerings from earth. At the play’s climax, the starving gods are brought to the negotiating table. The gods are represented by a trio of ambassadors: Poseidon, Herakles, and a Triballian god worshipped by the Thracians.110 The ensuing scene can, I think, be seen as a comic representation of a diplomatic interaction between the Athenians and a less powerful community, albeit one distorted by force (it perhaps aligns with Thucydides’ pessimistic take on the inefficacy of dialogue). But it does seem as though Aristophanes expected his audience to have some familiarity with the realities of imperial diplomacy. For instance, the divine ambassadors state that they have full authority to negotiate, a diplomatic technicality.111 Aristophanes also mocks the role of honorific hospitality (a concept which will be explored at various places in this monograph), when Peisthetairos says that he will invite the ambassadors to lunch.112 Herakles, starved of offerings, and well known in comedy for his gluttony,113 says that the invitation is enough to persuade him to give the Athenians what they want.114 To a modern reader, both jokes do not make sense on their own, but are comprehensible through reference to fifth-­century inscribed decrees from Athens, in which the powers of ambassadors are referred to,115 and invitations for envoys to have hospitality at the council house are often issued.116 It is these decrees which, in my view, give some of the best information about the actual dynamics of fifth-­ century Athenian power, and the negotiated relationships between the Athenians and their allies.

0.4.1  Sources: Athenian Fifth-­Century Inscriptions Indeed, as I already have made clear, the category of evidence at the centre of my analysis is the epigraphic record, namely the public documents inscribed on stone by the Athenian people. I have discussed one of the key kinds of financial document inscribed by the Athenians in the fifth century, the tribute quota lists, and the issues they present to scholars due to their fragmentary state. I will also make some use of other inscribed accounts, which were usually sacred in their subject matter, recording finances associated with either sacred building projects or sacred treasuries. The other primary kind of inscribed document analysed in this monograph are decrees, the democratic decisions of the Athenian council and people.117 Most decrees were inscribed on rectangular blocks of marble called stelai and were 110 Ar. Av. 1565–1692. 111 Ar. Av. 1596. 112 Ar. Av. 1602. 113  See Dunbar (1995) 714. 114 Ar. Av. 1603. 115  For example, in the first decree for Methone: IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 26–7. Also referred to by Thucydides, for instance concerning the Spartan envoys at Thuc. 5.45. 116  One of numerous examples is in the second decree for Aphytis: IG I3 63 lines 7–9. 117  For the definition of ‘decree’, a decision by an assembly of citizens, see Rhodes (1997) 1.

Introduction  23 displayed in the Athenians’ preeminent public and sacred space, the Acropolis.118 I will not be able to discuss every relevant text in detail in this monograph, but for experienced and inexperienced epigraphists alike, Osborne and Rhodes’s handbook provides much helpful explanation, as does Attic Inscriptions Online. Nonetheless, some general context is helpful here. In the archaic Greek world, there were limited and diverse cultures of public inscription.119 Only in a few cases can particular local cultures of inscribing be identified: most notably, a number of Cretan communities inscribed a relatively large number of public documents, mostly laws, which show discernible local epigraphic trends.120 The Athenians, for their part, began to inscribe public documents on stone only at the end of the sixth century bc, with the first known decree regulating the extra-­territorial community of Salamis dating to its final decade.121 A small number of decrees dating from the first few decades of the fifth century also survive. But it was around the middle of the century that Athenian public epigraphic culture really took off, when various kinds of document, predominantly decrees and financial accounts, began to be inscribed in considerable numbers.122 Kai Trampedach convincingly argues that the erection of the lapis primus may have been the trigger for this epigraphic explosion.123 A number of longer-­term factors also help to account for it. First, the broader monumental development of the sanctuary should be taken into account.124 The inscriptions monumentalized the space alongside the buildings, altars, and sculptural dedications. Secondly, while the inscribed decrees and accounts cannot be considered straightforward records of democratic documents (more on this in a moment), they are certainly monuments of Athenian collective, democratic identity, and therefore can be associated with the development of the Athenian democratic system.125 Thirdly, the religious context of the Acropolis, where the majority of inscriptions were displayed, should not be forgotten.126 Many of the documents had overtly religious subject matter (not least the tribute quota lists), while a good number of those that did not were nonetheless inscribed below invocations to the gods or sculptural reliefs depicting deities.127 For Elizabeth Meyer, all inscriptions erected

118  For the places of display of Athenian inscriptions, see Liddel (2003); for the development of the form of the stelai see Davies (2005); Meyer (2016). 119  See Lazar (Forthcoming a) for discussion of the place of Athenian epigraphic culture in this broader epigraphic landscape. 120  Gagarin and Perlman (2016) identify about two hundred inscribed public documents from ten Cretan cities, dating between c.650 and 400 bc; for the character of Archaic Cretan epigraphy, see Whitley (1997). 121  IG I3 1 with a new fragment published by Matthaiou (1990–1) 9–14; AIO 1672 for a revised text and translation. 122  Liddel (2010) provides a statistical analysis of this trend. 123  Trampedach (2022). 124  Moroo (2016); Lambert (2018) 29. 125 The connection between inscription and democracy was influentially proposed by Meritt (1940) 89; reiterated by Hedrick (1999); opposed by Sickinger (2009). 126  Lambert (2018) 22. 127  Mack (2018).

24  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc in the sacred space of the sanctuary were in some sense dedications to the Athenians’ patron goddess, Athena.128 Finally, a key factor in the growth of Athenian epigraphic culture was the growth of the Athenian empire.129 With the lapis primus, we have already seen how monumental inscriptions provided an effective means of asserting Athens’s power. This was not just the case in Athenian public space, as some decrees were also inscribed and erected in the public spaces of allied communities.130 Perhaps because of this potential for the assertion of power, a high proportion of fifth-­ century Athenian decrees chosen for inscription and display concern relations with allies, as well as other foreign individuals or communities.131 Inscription would also have been funded, at least in part, by imperial revenues.132 By the end of the fifth century, the scale of public epigraphic production at Athens was unparalleled, as was its character. Athenian decrees and accounts were distinctive in their language and form, and no other community inscribed public documents to a comparable extent.133 Athenian epigraphic culture did, however, begin to have varied influence on inscribing practices elsewhere, particularly in communities in the empire.134 It needs to be emphasized that these inscriptions were physical monuments, in physical space, with multivalent symbolic and memorializing functions.135 For the purposes of this monograph, however, they are also texts, which provide an in­valu­able historical record of democratic decisions concerning the empire and of imperial finances. But their various limitations and biases need to be taken into account. I have already mentioned the selectivity of inscription. The Athenians inscribed only a small proportion of their democratic decisions and accounts;136 and an even smaller proportion of those that were inscribed survive. Consequently, the inscriptions that we do have cannot be considered representative. Moreover, these documents were no unfiltered representations of democratic procedures; as much as the work of Thucydides, they were rhetorical constructions. The decrees show 128  E. Meyer (2013). 129  Thomas (1994) 44. 130  There are clauses ordering this in some documents, for example the decree for Chalkis (IG I3 40 = OR 131 lines 61–2). A handful of Athenian decrees have been found in non-­Athenian contexts: see IG I3 1453 = OR 155 (‘Standards decree’); IG I3 1454 = OR 136 = AIO 954 (decree for the Eteokarpathians) with Liddel (2003) 83–4. 131  See again Liddel (2010). 132  Sometimes allied communities were directly ordered to pay for the erection of inscriptions: Low (2005) 100–9; see again Kallet-­Marx (1989a) for the financing of buildings more broadly. 133  Liddel (2010). The epigraphic culture of Crete should be noted again here, as should the epigraphic production of Peloponnesian communities such as Argos and Epidauros. 134  Lazar (Forthcoming a). 135  See Lambert (2018) 26 on the agency of Athenian inscriptions; Low (2020) on their role in creating communal memory. 136  See Lambert (2018) chapter  2 on the selectivity of Athenian inscription; Sickinger (1999) on Athenian archives, and the recording of decrees in archival contexts. For the opposing view that all decrees were inscribed, see Osborne (2012).

Introduction  25 none of the disagreement or dissent which would have preceded a vote; rather, they present sanitized, homogeneous decisions made by a united Athenian ­demos.137 In matters concerning the empire, the documents also obscure much of the underlying diplomatic activity. Further, as I emphasized above, the majority of fifth-­century Athenian decrees, and some financial documents, cannot be dated precisely.138 By the later years of the century, the prescripts of decrees began to include the name of the chief magis­trate, the archon; and we have independent records of archons which consequently allow texts to be dated.139 A handful of decrees include other information which allows for precise dating. Stephen Tracy’s analysis of inscribers and styles provides some parameters.140 But many decrees are simply floating in the second half of the fifth century, with controversy and debate around their dating and context. I have my own views on the dating of particular texts, but I also will attempt to conduct some synthetic analysis in which knowing the exact context of a particular text is less crucial. For ease and accessibility, all Athenian decrees of the fifth century discussed in this book are listed in the appendix, along with brief summaries of their content, and analysis of their (proposed) date(s). Many of these documents are also fragmentary, and much of their content can never be recovered. Epigraphic editors sometimes provide supplements, that is to say they fill in the gaps where text is missing. Anything contained within squared brackets in a published text does not exist on the stone; consider the quotation at the beginning of this introduction. In later centuries, epigraphic documents were inscribed in much greater numbers, and often recorded standardized processes, represented in formulaic and homogeneous language, such as the Seleucid royal letters and civic decrees described above. Such repeated language makes the task of reconstructing lost texts more straightforward. But fifth-­century Athenian inscriptions stand right at the beginning of the history of widespread public epigraphic culture, and most of the language they use is not formulaic. Their heterogeneity has not stopped editors from trying to reconstruct missing text, and one should consequently be wary of some older editions of the texts. Many of the inscriptions considered in this book, however, have been re-­edited more cautiously by Osborne and Rhodes, Attic Inscriptions Online, or other scholars such as Angelos Matthaiou; and it is these editions that I will generally use. Finally, to state the obvious: these inscriptions (and indeed most of the literary sources I have discussed) are Athenian. It is difficult to balance this Atheno-­ centrism out, as the Athenians simply inscribed much more than other 137  Osborne (1999b); Lazar (2023). Note that Canevaro (2018) argues, not unconvincingly, that real consensus was achieved through debate in the assembly, so the presentation of a unified demos may well have been rooted in reality. 138  See again Rhodes (2008); Papazarkadas (2009). 139  Osborne and Rhodes (2017) 578 provides a list of fifth-­century archons based on Diodorus. 140  Tracy (2016).

26  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc communities in the fifth century, and more of their literary production has ­survived. But some alternative sources do provide limited means of correcting this bias, as well as addressing the other issues just outlined.

0.4.2  Alternative Sources: Beyond Athens, and beyond the Fifth Century The first half of the monograph will primarily focus on the Athenian evidence I have outlined thus far, which certainly merits fresh analysis. But in the regional studies of the second half, I will make use of a wide range of non-­Athenian sources alongside Athenian texts and inscriptions. I will analyse some rare fifth-­ century inscriptions from the wealthy allied islands of Rhodes and Thasos. I will look at coinage, a prolific and underutilized category of evidence, which attests to many communities and agents beyond Athens. Indeed, my particular focus in Chapter 6 will be the unusual numismatic production of Kyzikos on the Asiatic Propontis (the modern-­day Sea of Marmara). To a limited extent, I will also consider the archaeological record, another kind of evidence which undoubtedly merits more systematic and specialist analysis in relation to the Athenian empire elsewhere. In all the chapters in this monograph, to varying degrees, I will also consider the evidence of later periods. Although Athenian power was curtailed at the end of the fifth century (and I have largely stuck to the canonical limits of 479–403 bc), it was quickly reasserted in parts of the Aegean in the 390s, before the King’s Peace of 387 bc.141 Then, from 378 bc to 355 bc, Athens led its so-­called Second Confederacy.142 Even after this time, Athenian influence continued to operate in certain contexts (cleruchies are not a focus of this study, but are a key example of maintained Athenian imperial strategy into the Hellenistic period;143 similarly, Athenian influence on Delos persisted for centuries).144 Although these renewed or maintained forms of Athenian power are not as systematically attested in the literary sources as the fifth-­century empire (Xenophon famously does not record the foundation of the Second Confederacy), the fourth century was the apogee of  Athenian epigraphic productivity.145 Moreover, other communities increasingly began to inscribe their own documents. Thus, we have more epigraphic evidence, and evidence of different kinds, for relations between Athens and less powerful communities, including those formerly in the fifth-­century empire. Of course, the varying geopolitical contexts of inscriptions from different places and 141 Xen. Hell. 5.1.31. 142  IG II2 43 = RO 22. 143  Moreno (2007, 2009) for discussion of fifth-­century cleruchies. 144  See, for instance, Chankowski (2008) for the relationship between Athens and Delos beyond the fifth century. 145  Liddel (2003).

Introduction  27 periods needs to be acknowledged. Moreover, this monograph will not offer a comprehensive study of Athenian power in the Aegean in the longue durée, because Athenian power constituted something different in the fifth century, even if it had earlier precedents and a considerable afterlife. But I will make selective comparative use of later sources, given that they record Athenian relations with the same communities in the same geographic contexts and within not entirely dissimilar geopolitical dynamics, which may have had their origins in the fifth century.

0.5  A New Direction: Negotiation, Flexibility, and Regionality My approach to the Athenian empire, then, draws on key strands of recent scholarship—­particularly economic analysis and regional history—­alongside a transhistorical awareness that empires tend to be intrinsically flexible and negotiated. Informed by these perspectives, I will provide new empirical analysis of Athenian epigraphic and literary sources, alongside non-­Athenian evidence less commonly deployed; and I will also make some selective, comparative forays into later sources attesting to Athenian power. The first part of this monograph will focus on Athenian contexts of interaction and Athenian evidence. In essence, I will argue that Athenian power was flexible, and formed of multi-­directional and negotiated interactions with allied communities. These negotiations, in my view, were supported by the Athenians’ attempted co-­option of a pre-­existing network of prominent and mobile individuals, especially through use of religious and honorific culture; but Athenian approaches to both community-­level negotiations and relationships with non-­Athenian in­di­vid­ uals became more regimented as the century progressed. Chapter 1 will look at political relationships between the Athenians and their allies. I will provide a synthetic analysis of inscribed Athenian decrees, arguing that they preserve traces of the underlying, bilateral negotiations with allied communities. I will then turn to the network of individuals which supported this community-­level diplomatic activity. Chapter 2 will focus on the Athenian fiscal system. I will contend that it was inherently flexible and composed of bilateral interactions; but that this flexibility, and the individual agency which supported it, was increasingly restricted when the financial pressures of the Peloponnesian War began to bite. Chapter 3 will provide the cultural and religious context for these political and fiscal negotiations, exploring how allied mobility to Athenian festivals defined imperial relationships, and exposed allied individuals to Athenian democratic culture. The second half of the monograph will then shift its focus from Athens and Athenian contexts of interaction to allied communities, and other polities at the fringes of Athenian power. I will offer a comparison of the operation of Athenian

28  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc power in three different, peripheral Aegean regions, showing how the Athenians adopted overlapping but differentiated strategies, which took on local mani­fest­ ations and invited varied non-­Athenian responses. My analysis will contextualize the negotiation processes laid out in the first part of the book; and it will further illuminate the flexibility and opportunism of Athenian fiscality and exploitation. Chapter 4 will focus on the resource-­rich North Aegean region, exploring how the Athenians adapted their negotiation strategies to the demands of different allied communities and Thraco-­Macedonian groups beyond the empire. Further, I will show how the Athenians adapted their exploitation to compete with the powerful allied polis of Thasos, and how the Thasians adapted in turn. Chapter 5 will look at another powerful island in the empire, Rhodes. I will first use Rhodes and its unusual production of inscribed decrees to frame an exploration of Athenian strategies of exploitation in the eastern Mediterranean (primarily Egypt and Cyprus), beyond their Aegean sphere; I will then zoom in on Rhodes and its Aegean environs, mapping out how Athenian power aligned, overlapped, and competed with Rhodian influence. Finally, Chapter  6 will look at the porous interface of the Athenian empire, the Achaemenid Persian satrap, and powerful allied communities in the Hellespontine and Bosporan straits and Propontis in northwestern Anatolia; this dynamic will be illuminated by the production and circulation of a rare coinage minted by the allied city of Kyzikos. In all three contested regions, I will argue, the Athenians were predominantly laissez-­faire in their presence, mostly skimming off the top of allied exploitation; but they were targeted in their direct intervention when opportunity arose. My approach is, of course, not comprehensive. I will focus on Athenian relationships with Greek allies and some non-­Greek polities in particular regions; and not on, for example, overseas Athenian territories or interaction with Greek communities beyond the empire. My definition of ‘allies’ necessarily is quite broad, given the variations in the status of different polities and the shifting testimony of the contemporary sources, but will predominantly encompass Greek communities that paid tribute to the Athenians. Some examples of communities subjected to Athenian control in other ways (militarily, or through other forms of economic intervention) will also be considered. My aim is to map out one new direction for this canonical topic. As an intrinsic part of ancient Greek historical scholarship and teaching, the Athenian empire must be an intrinsic part of the necessary broader disciplinary reassessment. For my part, through consideration of flexibility, negotiation, and regionality, I hope to rediscover the strangeness of fifth-­century bc Athenian power.

1

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators Our poet says that he deserves a rich reward at your hands, for having stopped you from being too easily deceived by the words of foreigners, taking pleasure in flattery, being citizens of Emptyhead. Previously, when the ambassadors from the allied states were trying to deceive you, they began by calling you “violet-­crowned”; and when someone said that, at once that word “crown” made you sit on the tips of your little buttocks . . . that is why they will come now from those states bringing you your tribute, eager to see that superb poet who took the risk of talking justice to the Athenians . . .1 Aristophanes, Acharnians, 425 bc

1.1  Introduction: Aristophanes’ Babylonians I begin by chasing a lost play of Aristophanes. His earliest extant work, Acharnians, performed at the Lenaia festival of 425 bc, includes this wonderfully suggestive but frustratingly enigmatic speech, made by the chorus in a direct address to the audience. The chorus tells us that the poet had previously mocked the Athenians for succumbing to deception and flattery on the part of representatives from allied communities. This passage is generally considered to be a reference to Aristophanes’ play of the previous year, Babylonians, on the basis of a speech made by the protagonist Dikaiopolis earlier in Acharnians. Dikaiopolis, a cantankerous old Athenian, is sick of the war and, in a fantastical diplomatic manoeuvre, has made a personal peace with Sparta. For this act of egocentric pacifism, he is attacked by the unimpressed chorus, formed of residents of Acharnai, the deme which bore the brunt of the regular Spartan cavalry forays into Attica.2 In his speech of defence,

1 Ar. Ach. 633–44. Translation adapted from Sommerstein (1980). 2  See, for example, Thuc. 2.19.2.

Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc. Leah Lazar, Oxford University Press. © Leah Lazar 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198896265.003.0002

30  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Dikaiopolis describes how he has been abused by the Athenian demagogue Kleon, channelling the poet’s own comic persona:3 And I know about myself, what I suffered at Kleon’s hands because of last year’s comedy. He dragged me into the council chamber and began slandering me, telling glib-­mouthed lies about me, roaring at me like the Kykloboros, bathing me in abuse, so that I very nearly perished in a sewer of troubles.4

An ancient commentator on this passage identifies ‘last year’s comedy’ as Babylonians: (“On account of last year’s comedy”) He means Babylonians. For Aristophanes produced this play before Acharnians and abused many people in it. He ridiculed the allotted and elected offices and Kleon in the presence of foreigners, for he entered the play Babylonians in the festival of the Dionysia, which is held in the spring and where the allies delivered their tribute. Angry because of this Kleon brought against him a lawsuit for wronging the citizens . . .5

Unfortunately, we do not know much about the specific content of Babylonians, as the other testimonia and fragments of the play are scanty and unrevealing;6 although it does seem unlikely that Kleon actually brought a lawsuit against Aristophanes as a result of the play.7 For my particular purposes, however, some more concrete inferences can be made. Judging by the references in Acharnians, the remarks of the commentator, and indeed Aristophanes’ extant plays, which regularly mock Kleon, it is likely that Kleon or other prominent Athenians were the target of ridicule. Moreover, Acharnians strongly suggests that this ridicule was connected to imperial diplomatic activity. It seems that Babylonians represented allied ambassadors successfully persuading Athenian representatives, and that the play was seen by an audience including allied ambassadors present in Athens at the time of the Dionysia festival, perhaps the very individuals who would have attempted such persuasion in reality.8 The commentator can at least be trusted on the detail of the play’s festival context and date, as he would have had access to reliable records.9 We can also gather that Aristophanes’ display and

3  Abuse also mentioned at Ar. Ach. 660–4. 4 Ar. Ach. 377–82. Translation from Sommerstein (1980). See also 497–503. 5  Σ. Ar. Ach. 378. Translation adapted from Henderson (1998). 6  For discussions of the play’s content, see Welsh (1983); Starkey (2013); D’Angour (1999) 112–14. 7  See, for example, Sommerstein (2004) for a recent argument in support of the historicity of the lawsuit. 8  We also know from Ar. Ach. 505–6 that allied representatives delivered tribute at the time of the Dionysia festival; see Chapter 3.2 for discussion of other allied mobility to the festival. 9  Sommerstein (2004) 147–8.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  31 mockery of this phenomenon was considered controversial, given that he brought it up again the following year. What was the reason for the controversy? Was the persuasion or negotiation by allied representatives itself problematic in the eyes of the Athenian public? It seems not: the very fact that Aristophanes was able to make a joke out of it shows that it was a current and widely known occurrence, even an expected one. Perhaps the issue was that the comic ambassadors were shown to be too successful in the negotiation process; or perhaps it was that they did not comply with accepted forms of persuasion, instead adopting flattery and deception, even bribery. It is possible that Aristophanes’ portrayal of such negotiation was interfering with its correct operation in reality; after all, real allied ambassadors may have been in the audience. It is tempting to imagine the actors pointing at any prominently seated foreigners in the front rows, pantomime-­style. To a historian familiar with the dynamics of ancient empires, the existence of such a negotiation process between the Athenians and their allies is not surprising. As I laid out in the introduction, imperial entities throughout history have made use of negotiation. Negotiation processes had potential benefits for an imperial power: the possibility of giving subjects a sense of agency, of channelling their energies into dialogue rather than dissent, and of investing fewer resources in imperial administration. But acknowledging the existence of negotiation does not mean ignoring the more punitive aspects of imperial power, as dialogue often existed alongside the threat of force. Rather, we should seek to understand how the complex equation between imperial authority and allied agency supported the development and maintenance of Athenian power, with all its violence, rap­ acity, and exploitation. Therefore, in this first chapter, I will ask whether the Athenians negotiated their political relationships with allied communities. I will explore two interconnected aspects of this potential negotiation, which will then provide two of the key argumentative threads for the rest of the book. First, I will focus on negotiation processes at the level of the community. Inscribed Athenian decrees, I will maintain, retain traces of the underlying diplomatic processes, potentially including real dialogue and negotiation. Some of negotiations were conducted in an ad hoc manner, with the Athenians responding reactively to particular situations arising in particular communities. I will argue, however, that the Athenians also provided standard routes of negotiation for their allies to follow, perhaps more so as the century progressed. In the second part of the chapter, my focus will shift from the communities qua communities to the individual representatives who actually did the negotiating, attested in a broader range of sources. I will make the case that the Athenians made use of pre-­existing networks of mobile and connected elites to maintain their imperial diplomacy; and I will explore how the interests of these individuals could both support and oppose those of their communities. This final point,

32  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc moreover, will allow me to come full circle: I will argue that tension between individual negotiators and community-­level negotiation arising in the 420s bc may help us to understand the particular context of Aristophanes’ Babylonians.

1.2  Inscribed Decrees: Spheres of Control and Concession Turning first to community-­level diplomatic interactions, then, I will primarily consider the evidence of inscribed Athenian decrees. As I explained in the introduction, Thucydides and other literary sources in my view provide less detailed testimony for the actual dynamics of diplomacy between the Athenians and communities within the empire, especially smaller communities. Many decrees, however, were the product of such diplomacy. Indeed, allied representatives interacted with Athenian political bodies, namely the council and assembly; any resulting business was then debated by the assembly, and resulted in decrees, some of which were selected for inscription and public display,10 at Athens and sometimes elsewhere.11 Even when inter-polis interactions were conducted by Athenian officials or generals away from Athens, decisions were often discussed or ratified in the council and assembly at home.12 For my analysis, it is convenient that the Athenians chose to inscribe decrees concerning external relations more than others;13 this was the subject matter most prevalent in fifth-­century Athenian public epigraphic culture, in part due to the Athenians’ use of monumental epigraphy as an expression of imperial power. Consequently, we have around forty surviving decrees concerning specific allied communities (depending on how exactly ‘allied’ is defined), five empire-­wide decrees,14 and a number of decrees honouring individual foreigners, some from allied cities.15 The inscribed decrees, which purport to present a frictionless demo­crat­ic consensus, cannot be seen as an accurate representation of any debate in the assembly,16 much less of any diplomatic activity; but it will be my contention in this chapter that the underlying diplomacy, including real dialogue and 10  For the selectivity of inscription, see Introduction section 0.4.1. 11  Again, see Liddel (2003). 12 For example, the late fifth-­century documents concerning Selymbria (IG I3 118 = OR 185) ­contain both the maverick general Alkibiades’ agreement with the Selymbrians and its subsequent ratification in the Athenian assembly. 13  For a statistical analysis of this trend, see again Liddel (2010). 14 Three of these concern tribute, are dated to the mid-­420s bc, and are discussed further in Chapter 2.3.1: Kleonymos’ decree (IG I3 68 = OR 152); Thoudippos’ decree (IG I3 71 = OR 153 = AIO 959); and Kleinias’ decree (IG I3 34 = OR 154 = AIUK 4.2 no. 5). We can add the aforementioned ‘Standards decree’ (IG I3 1454 = OR 155), also a financial measure, discussed in Chapter 2.4 and Chapter 6.2.4. The last is a decree concerning offerings at the sanctuary of Eleusis (IG I3 78 = OR 141), which will be briefly discussed in Chapter 3.2. See Appendix section A.2. 15  Those awarding the status of proxeny are collected by Walbank (1978); they can also be searched online at Mack’s website http://proxenies.csad.ox.ac.uk. 16  As argued by Osborne (1999b).

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  33 negotiation between the Athenians and their allies, left its traces in these documents, for all their rhetorical purpose. Analysis of the decrees, therefore, can provide insight into the dynamics of negotiation processes between the Athenians and allied communities. My focus here will be the decrees concerning community-­level interactions with cities, primarily those which contributed tribute, but also those that were the target of other imperial impositions, such as other fiscal measures or garrisons (and there is some overlap with possible cleruchies). The thirty-­five inscriptions under consideration (some recording multiple decrees) are listed in Section A.1 of the appendix. Before embarking on this analysis, however, it is helpful for me to first outline what spheres of activity were under consideration in the imperial diplomatic interactions attested in these decrees. What aspects of Athenian imperial power were actually up for discussion? Some of the decrees show a tightening of Athenian control and can perhaps be described as punitive. The decrees which show this kind of decision are often classified as renewals of alliance, bringing allied communities back into line after revolt. Others indicate the bestowal of concessions, privileges, or differentiated statuses. Not all the decrees fit easily into either categorization, but their measures, both of control and of concession, fall into a number of different spheres. Despite common scholarly assumptions, Athenian interference in the internal political structure of allied communities is not shown by many of the decrees.17 The first decree for Erythrai is the only clear-­cut case.18 In this decree, the Athenians resolve to set up a council in Erythrai, in western Anatolia: ‘there is to be a Council of 120 men chosen by lot’.19 By contrast, the privilege of autonomia is awarded in a number of the decrees.20 This term was conveniently flexible in its exact meaning and implications, but in principle would have given communities the freedom to have their own form of government without Athenian interference.21 In the 405/4 decree for the island of Samos, for example, the status of autonomia is further defined by the specification that the Samians are to use their own laws.22 Legal measures are often present. Some decrees mention courts or trials.23 A number of the decrees refer to symbola, legal agreements between communities.24 17  For example, Meiggs (1972) 208–9. 18  IG I3 14 = OR 121 = AIO 296; see Brock (2009). 19  Lines 8–9: ἀπ[ὸ τ͂ον] | [κ]υάμον βολὲν̣ []ναι̣ εἴ̣κοσ̣ι καὶ ḥεκατὸν ἄνδ̣ρας· 20  IG I3 66 line 11 (Mytilene); IG I3 127 = OR 191 = AIO 796 line 16 (Samos); IG I3 1454 = OR 136 = AIO 954 line 12 (Eteokarpathians); restored in IG I3 118 = OR 185 line 11 (Selymbria). 21  See Ostwald (1982) for an extended study of the concept; Low (2007) 188–92 for its flexibility; Dmitriev (2011) chapter 1 for a discussion of autonomia and eleutheria in the classical period. 22  IG I3 127 = OR 191 = AIO 796 lines 15–16. 23 Including IG I3 21 lines 28–51 (Miletos); IG I3 40 = OR 131 lines 70–6 (Chalkis); IG I3 41 = AIUK 4.2 no. 3 lines 88–103 (Histiaia); IG I3 149 line 8 (Eretria). 24  IG I3 10 = OR 120 (Phaselis); IG I3 66 (Mytilene); IG I3 118 = OR 185 (Selymbria); IG I3 127 = OR 191 = AIO 796 (Samos). Hopper (1943) provides a study of symbola in the Athenian empire; see Gauthier (1972) for a more general analysis.

34  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc The decree for Phaselis in southern Anatolia makes reference to previous s­ymbola, but also preserves a new legal agreement in more detail. It appears to grant the Phaselites favourable legal status in Athens; this is the most likely explanation of the provision that the Phaselites are to have access to the court of the polemarch, an Athenian legal official also found in decrees honouring individuals.25 Many of the decrees concern financial or fiscal matters, resolving measures with varying degrees of scope.26 For instance, on a small scale, a few controversial lines in the second Chalkis decree (see Figure 1.1; section 1.3.1.2 below) concern tax exemption in the city of Chalkis on Euboia for certain groups of people who were privileged by the Athenians.27 A much more weighty fiscal privilege is given by the first decree for Methone in the North Aegean (see Figure 4.2), which awards the Methoneans near exemption from tribute, apart from the requisite dedication to Athena: The People voted that the Methoneans should pay as much to the goddess from the tribute as was assessed at the previous Panathenaia and should be exempt from the rest.28

Other spheres of control and concession include military provisions,29 particularly arrangements for Athenian garrisons;30 property ownership;31 and religious practices. The second decree for Neapolis in coastal Thrace, for example, contains an obscure provision which appears to be a privilege, concerning the first-­fruit offerings for the Neapolitan goddess Parthenos: Concerning the aparche (first-­fruits) for the Parthenos which was made until now to the Goddess, the matter is to be decided by the People.32

25  IG I3 10 = OR 120 lines 6–11. For an example of the polemarch in an honorific decree for an individual, see for instance IG I3 24 lines 6–9. For the position that this measure was a privilege, see De Ste. Croix (1961); Fornara (1979); Bresson (2016) 320; Osborne and Rhodes (2017) 111. See s­ ection 1.2.2.1 below; Chapter 5.2.3. 26  See Chapter 2 and Chapter 6.3 for further discussion of negotiation over fiscal circumstances. 27  IG I3 40 = OR 131 lines 52–7. See Osborne and Rhodes (2017) 178 for a summary of the extensive scholarship on these lines; Sosin (2014) for a thorough contribution. 28  IG I3 61 = ΟR 150 lines 29–32: ἐχειροτόνεσεν ℎο δ͂εμος [Μεθον]-|[αίο]ς τελ͂εν ℎ[όσο]ν τ͂ει θε͂οι ἀπὸ τ͂ο φόρο ἐγίγνε[το ℎὸν] | [τοῖ]ς προτέρο[ις] Παναθεναίοις ἐτετάχατο φ[έρεν, τ͂ο] | [δὲ ἄ]λλο ἀτε[λ͂ες ]ναι. 29  The fragmentary IG I3 67, perhaps referring to Mytilene, is possibly concerned with piracy and plunder. 30 Including IG I3 16 (possibly for an unknown allied community); IG I3 21 (Miletos); IG I3 40 = OR 131 (Chalkis); IG I3 75 = AIUK 3 no. 1 (Halieis). 31  For example, IG I3 21 lines 51–63 (Miletos). 32  IG I3 101 = OR 187 = AIO 1176 lines 57–8: δὲ τ͂ες ἀπαρχ͂ες τ͂ει Παρθένοι ℎ[έπερ κ]αὶ τέος ἐγίγνετο τ͂ει [θε]͂οι ἐν τ͂οι δέμο[ι πρᾶχσαι πρὸς αὐ?]-|τός·

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  35 In some decrees, we begin to see the use of honorific language and the bestowal of honorific privileges, for instance the praising of the citizens of an allied com­mu­ nity or the offer of hospitality for its ambassadors. This phenomenon will be discussed at length below. While there is overlap in the subject matter of the various measures, leading to the identification of distinct spheres—­political, legal, fiscal, military, religious—­ what is striking is that very few of these decrees contain the same or even similar provisions, at least until the bestowal of more standardized honours emerges. There are a few exceptions to this observation, some of which will be discussed below; but for the most part each of the decrees is unique in content, giving the impression that the Athenians largely addressed the affairs of allied communities on an individual basis.33 At first glance, then, one might assume that some kind of interaction, perhaps even negotiation, with representatives of the relevant allied community underlay these decrees, leading to differentiated and unique outcomes.

1.2.1  Traces of Negotiation? Certainly, underlying diplomatic interaction is visible in several aspects of the decrees, both those with more punitive terms and those awarding privileges. For some allied communities, multiple decisions made by the Athenian demos are recorded, suggesting that interaction between the two parties was maintained over time. Sometimes individually inscribed decrees for a community are dated decades apart, suggesting separate deliberations,34 but sometimes they can be placed close in date.35 Multiple decrees—­dossiers—­are sometimes inscribed on the same monument.36 The document concerning Chalkis, for instance, records three proposals, technically two decrees and a rider (all passed close in time, possibly on the same day), with reference made to earlier decrees and to embassies, indicating an extended process of deliberation and back-­and-­forth between the Athenians and the Chalkidians.37 In the case of the North Aegean community of Methone, four decrees were passed over the course of a few years, and all inscribed on the same stone (although, unfortunately, only the earlier two survive).38 As in the decrees for Chalkis, ambassadors are mentioned in several places.39 But how 33  See Liddel (2010) 102 for this observation. 34  For example, Samos (IG I3 48 = OR 139 = AIO 1169; IG I3 96; IG I3 127 = OR 191 = AIO 796). 35  For example, Erythrai (IG I3 14 = OR 121 = AIO 296; IG I3 15) and Aphytis (IG I3 62 and 63); see Chapter 6.3. 36  For example, Neapolis (IG I3 101 = OR 187 = AIO 1176), Samos (IG I3 127 = OR 191 = AIO 796). 37  IG I3 40 = OR 131: decree of Diognetos (2–39); decree of Antikles (40–69); rider of Archestratos (70–80); reference to earlier decrees at line 49. 38  IG I3 61 = OR 150. 39  Lines 16–18; 24–6; 49–51.

36  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc can we know whether this diplomatic activity entailed real dialogue, and the possibility for allied communities to assert actual agency through negotiation? In a few instances, it is clear that that the Athenians responded directly to an argument made by an allied community. To return to the first decree for Methone, we can see that the speech of the Methonean ambassadors is actually reported: The wrongs they say they have suffered (?) from Perdikkas.40

Clearly, the Methonean ambassadors argued for concessions from the Athenians, given the interference of the Macedonian king.41 The decrees for Methone awarded unusually favourable privileges, so the Methoneans appear to have been successful. Likewise, in the second decree for Chalkis, the Athenians explicitly respond to a Chalkidian request (although the Chalkidians, returning to the Athenians after a revolt, did not have the same kind of leverage as the Methoneans): And on the matter of hostages, they shall reply to the Chalkidians that for the moment the Athenians have decided to leave matters as they have been voted.42

But even in the majority of cases, where direct speech is not present, I suspect that the underlying back-­and-­forth, actual dialogue, can be detected in the formulation of the decrees. Certain linguistic structures betray traces of negotiation. Strings of negatives show various outcomes which were excluded by the parties in their deliberations, as at the beginning of the oath of the Athenian council and jurors in the first Chalkis decree: I shall not expel the Chalkidians from Chalkis, nor shall I ruin the polis, nor shall I deprive any individual of rights, nor shall I punish any with exile nor imprison any nor kill any nor confiscate the money of one not accused in court, without the authority of the demos of Athens.43

Here, despite the Chalkidians’ lack of persuasive capital, it seems that they still engaged in dialogue, resulting in the assurance that they had certain rights vis-­à-­ vis individual Athenians. The Athenians perhaps needed to balance the threat of

40  Lines 47–8: ℎὰ δὲ ℎυπὸ Περδ[ίκκ]-|[ο ἀδικ͂εσ]θαί φασι. 41  See Chapter 4.2.1. 42  IG I3 40 = OR 131 lines 47–9: περὶ δὲ τ͂ον ℎομέρον ἀποκ-|ρίνασθαι Χαλκιδεῦσιν, ℎότι νῦμ μὲν Ἀθε-|ναίοις δοκεῖ, ἐᾶν κατὰ τὰ ἐφσεφισμένα· 43  Lines 4–10: οὐκ ἐχσελ͂ο Χα-|λκιδέας ἐχ Χαλκίδος οὐδὲ τὲν πόλιν ἀνά-|στατον ποέσο οὐδὲ ἰδιότεν οὐδένα ἀτιμ-|όσο οὐδὲ φυγ͂ει ζεμιόσο οὐδὲ χσυλλέφσο-|μαι οὐδὲ ἀποκτεν͂ο οὐδὲ χρέματα ἀφαιρέ-|σομαι ἀκρίτο οὐδενὸς ἄνευ τ͂ο δέμο τ͂ο Ἀθ-|εναίον.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  37 force or punishment with the promise of certain treatment, in order to prevent the possibility of a future Chalkidian revolt. In other cases, the language of possibility, represented in several different constructions, shows how possible future circumstances were considered. Indefinite temporal clauses introduced by ὅταν (‘whenever’),44 indefinite relative clauses with indefinite pronouns or adverbs,45 and conditional clauses, sometimes mul­ tiple in succession, show anticipated reactions.46 In a few instances, expected reciprocal action is expressed through use of a conditional construction. To return to the first Methone decree, the Athenians grant privileges dependent on specific behaviour by the Methoneans: Of the debts which the Methoneans have been recorded as owing to the public treasury, if they are amenable (ἐπιτ[έδειοι]) to the Athenians as now and even better, the Athenians shall . . . . . . concerning the exaction . . .47

John Ma notes a similar phenomenon in Hellenistic royal letters, the ‘contract clause’, where future benefaction is promised to a city in the event of good behaviour.48 In the first Methone decree, a second ‘ἐὰν’ clause then follows on from the first: And if there is a general decree about debts on the wooden tablets, nothing shall apply to the Methoneans, unless there is a separate decree about the Methoneans.49

This further privilege also seems to be dependent on the future compliance of the Methoneans. Although we cannot be certain whose initiative triggered the passing of these measures, it seems most likely, given the nature of the privileges awarded and the reciprocity of the language, that the Methoneans asked the Athenians for the concession regarding their current debt and then anticipated future Athenian rulings on the topic. A process of give and take, of reciprocity, is also evident in the description of the Athenians’ planned diplomatic overtures to Perdikkas of Macedon on the 44  For example, IG I3 37 line 31 (Kolophon). 45  For example, IG I3 37 line 29 ὅ [τ]ι ἂν (Kolophon); IG I3 127 = OR 191 = AIO 796 lines 12–13 ὅπως ἂν (Samos); IG I3 21 line 17 [ℎ]οπόσα ἂν (Miletos). 46  For example, the decree for Phaselis (IG I3 10 = OR 120 lines 15, 18, 19) shows a series of conditionals in close succession, termed entrenchment clauses by David Lewis (1997) 136–49, which lay down punishments for those who transgress the terms of the decree. 47  IG I3 61= OR 150 lines 9–13: [τ͂ον δὲ ὀφ]-|[ει]λεμάτον ℎὰ γεγράφαται τ͂οι δεμοσίοι τ[͂ον ἀπειτε]|[μέ]ν̣ομ Μεθοναῖοι ὀφείλοντες, ἐὰν σι ἐπιτ[έδειοι Ἀ]-|[θε]ναίοις ὅσπερ τε νῦν καὶ ἔτι ἀμείνος, ἐπι[… . . . .|.τ]αχσιν περὶ τ͂ες πράχσεος Ἀθεναίος. 48  Ma (1999) 179. 49 Lines 13–16: καὶ ἐὰν̣ [κοινὸ]-|[ν] φσέφισμά τι περὶ τ͂ον ὀφειλεμάτον τ͂ον ἐν τ͂ε[ισι σα]-|[νί]σι γίγνεται, μεδὲν προσℎεκέτο Μεθοναίο[ις ἐὰμ μ]-|[ὲ χ]ορὶς γίγνεται φσέφισμα περὶ Μεθοναίον.

38  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Methoneans’ behalf. The Athenians attempt to persuade Perdikkas by promising their good opinion in return: To say to Perdikkas that if the soldiers in Potidaia praise him, the Athenians will hold a good opinion of him.50

A similar sentiment, although more punitive, can be found in the Athenian oath of the Chalkis decree: I shall maintain this while the Chalkidians obey the Athenian people.51

It is possible to imagine the underlying negotiation processes. To varying degrees, the Athenians agreed to concede something in the negotiation, only with strings attached. How much the allied ambassadors were able to negotiate presumably depended on the circumstances of the community in question. Even communities with a less favourable position, such as Chalkis, could negotiate to some extent. But of course, while there might be a degree of allied agency, there was no equality. While the Athenians promised concrete concessions, the allied communities committed to loosely defined good behaviour or obedience, which could be interpreted by the Athenians in a variety of ways.

1.2.2.1  Strategies of Negotiation: Temporal Contexts Examination of the decrees also yields insights into common strategies of ne­go­ti­ ation employed by both the Athenians and allied communities. In several decrees, for instance, it is clear that the history of negotiation between the two parties played an active role in the ongoing negotiation process. For example, in the decree for Phaselis, as noted above, the previously existing legal agreements between the two parties (symbola) are mentioned, in connection with the new provision for the Phaselites to be tried in the court of a particular Athenian ­official, the polemarch: Whatever cause of action arises at Athens with regards to any of the Phaselites, the trials are to be held at Athens before the polemarch, as for the Chians, and

50  IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 27–9: ε[ἰ]π̣͂εν δὲ [Π]ερδίκκαι ℎότι ἐὰν ℎοι στρατι[͂οται] | [ℎοι] ἐμ Ποτειδ[ά]αι ἐπαιν͂οσι γνόμας ἀγαθὰς ℎέ[χσοσι] | [περὶ] αὐτ͂ο Ἀθε[ν]αῖοι. Note that a similar strategy is used in the decree of 347/6 bc, honouring the rulers of the Kimmerian Bosporos, IG II3 1 298 = RO 64 lines 17–20: ‘and the envoys shall report to them that if they do these things there is nothing that they will fail to obtain from the Athenian People’ (καὶ ἀπαγγ[έ]-|λλειν αὐτο[ῖ]ς τοὺς π[ρέσβ]εις ὅ[τι] ταῦτα ποι-|οῦντες οὐδενὸ[ς] ἀτυχήσουσιν τοῦ δήμου το-|ῦ Ἀθηναίων·). See Chapter 6.2.1 for these Spartokid rulers. 51  IG I3 40 = OR 131 lines 14–16: αῦτα δὲ ἐμπ̣ -|[ε]δόσο Χαλκιδεῦσιν πειθομένοις τ͂οι δέ-|[μ]οι τ͂οι Ἀθεναίον. See also IG I3 39 = AIO 1257 lines 1–3.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  39 nowhere else. Of the other cases covered by judicial conventions, the trials shall be held in accordance with the existing judicial conventions with the Phaselites.52

The surviving decree is clearly not the principal text of the agreement between the Athenians and the Phaselites; it is only a supplement, reliant on a previous document.53 Although we cannot reconstruct what was agreed by the two communities in previous negotiations, we can assume that the discussions between the two parties which resulted in this decree were dependent on what had come before. An even more explicit example is provided by the second decree for Neapolis, in which provision is made for a change in the wording in the first decree, presumably at the request of the Neapolitans: In the earlier decree, the secretary of the Council is to make a correction and write in it instead of “colony of the Thasians” that “they fought through the war together with the Athenians”.54

Wonderfully, the correction is visible in the text of the first decree on the stone.55 The decrees for the Neapolitans are predominantly honorific in form, as will be discussed below in section 1.3.2.2 (see also Figure 1.2). Both were inscribed on the same stele under a document relief, seemingly at different times. It is possible that the monument itself was considered to be one of the honours bestowed, a phenomenon made explicit in honorific decrees of later periods.56 Therefore, it was important for the Neapolitans that the decree was worded to their ­satisfaction. This was even more the case given that the Neapolitans paid for the inscription of the monument in both Athens and Neapolis; in Robin Osborne’s words, they ‘are getting their money’s worth’.57 What is particularly interesting for this analysis is that the minute details of the wording of the record of an earlier ne­go­ti­ation were significant in the new negotiation process. Individual diplomatic interactions were not isolated events. Both parties would have been aware of what had come before. Memory may have played a part, but presumably records of previous negotiations, or at least the decisions resulting from them, would have been recorded in archives, to which the negotiating ­parties could refer.58 Some of the previous negotiations may have resulted in 52  IG I3 10 = OR 120 lines 6–14: ὅ τι ἂμ μὲ[ν] Ἀθ-|[ήνησι ξ]υ[μβ]όλαιον γένηται | [πρὸς Φ]ασηλιτ[ῶ]ν τινα, Ἀθή[ν]η-|[σι τὰς δ]ίκας γίγνεσθαι παρ-|[ὰ τῶι πο]λεμάρχωι, καθάπερ Χ-­|[ίοις, καὶ] ἄλλοθι μηδὲ ἁμ͂ο· τῶ-|[ν δὲ ἄλλω]ν̣ ἀπὸ ξυμβολῶν κατ-|[ὰ τὰς ὄσας] ξυμβολὰς πρὸς Φα-|[σηλίτας] τὰς δίκας ν[α]ι· 53  Emphasized by Bresson (2016) 320. 54  IG I3 101 = OR 187 = AIO 1176 lines 58–9: ἐς δὲ τὸ φσέφισμα τὸ πρό[τερον ἐ]πανορθ͂οσαι τὸγ γραμματέα τ͂ες βολ͂ες ⋮ κ̣[αὶ ἐς αὐτὸ μεταγρ]-|[ά]φσαι ἀντὶ τ͂ες ἀποικία̣[ς τ͂ες Θασί]ον ℎότι συνδιεπολέμεσαν τὸμ πόλεμον μ[ετὰ Ἀθεναίον]. 55  Line 7. 56  See Lambert (2018) chapter 3. 57  Lines 42–5 with Osborne (1999b) 351. See Low (2005) for discussion of allied payment for the inscription of Athenian documents. 58  See Sickinger (1999) for Athenian archives in the fifth century.

40  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc decisions inscribed on stone and displayed near other decisions. A community’s diplomatic history might then have had a physical presence, both in an Athenian context and perhaps in the public space of the community itself.59

1.2.2.2  Strategies of Negotiation: Regional Contexts The temporal context of a community’s negotiation process was not the only consideration for the parties engaging in a diplomatic dialogue. The spatial aspect, the place of an allied community within its region, also impacted on the process. Sometimes this was very explicit. A strategy of negotiation, employed by both parties, was direct comparison to other nearby allied communities. The first Aphytis decree, when granting the Aphytaians a grain import privilege, makes a comparison to the circumstances of nearby Methone: [καθάπερ Μ]-|[ε]θωναίοις (See Map 2).60 This stipulation could refer to the second Methone decree, which records a similar privilege,61 or to another unpreserved agreement. Likewise, the decree for Phaselis, as we saw in the quotation above, makes reference to the Chians: καθάπερ Χ|[ίοις].62 Phaselis and Chios (see Maps 4 and 1) were not in especially close geographical proximity but had a long-­standing connection: Plutarch reports that Phaselis joined Athens through Chian mediation.63 Both communities participated in networks oriented towards the eastern Mediterranean.64 Feasibly, these communities asked for a concession or privilege from the Athenians on the basis that a nearby or connected community had received it; their knowledge of other communities became a bargaining chip. As a consequence, negotiation practices and strategies could be reproduced within the context of regions. The circumstances which motivated the Athenians to grant a privilege might also apply to multiple communities; for instance, the prominence of Chios and Phaselis in the lucrative commercial networks incorporating Egypt and the Levant likely prompted the Athenians to favour individuals, perhaps traders, from these communities in Athens. Aristophanes seems to send up this negotiation strategy in Birds: the decree-­seller who comes to the new polis of Cloudcuckooland offers to sell a decree laying down the use of measures, weights, and decrees ‘just as the Olophyxians’ (καθάπερ Ὀλοφύξιοι).65 The Athenians perhaps also used local precedent in the negotiation process. The second decree for Chalkis refers directly to Eretria, a nearby community on the island of Euboia:

59  See again Liddel (2003). 60  IG I3 62 lines 4–5; this reconstruction is likely; the phrase is found unrestored in line 7. 61  IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 34–6. 62  IG I3 10 = OR 120 lines 10–11. 63  See Plut. Cim. 12.3–4. 64  See Chapter 5.2 for analysis of Phaselis’s participation in eastern Mediterranean networks. 65 Ar. Av. 1042.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  41 For the good fortune of the Athenians, the Athenians and Chalkidians shall make the oath just as the Athenian people voted for the Eretrians.66

Here, a strategy on the part of the Athenians can perhaps be detected. Once again, we cannot pin down where the impetus for this measure originated, but given its punitive force it is possible that the Athenians reinforced their position in the negotiations through reference to their treatment of a nearby community. Additionally, a fragment of another decree survives which records an identical oath, usually attributed by scholars to the Eretrians (unfortunately, the ethnic is missing).67 Here we see the copying and repeating of an oath in a regional context, perhaps indicating a coordinated negotiation process. Differentiated treatment of nearby communities, between which regular communication existed, might have been counterproductive for the Athenians in particular circumstances. To my knowledge, there is one other case where a text is replicated for different communities: we have near-­identical treaties from 433/2 bc for Rhegion in southern Italy and Leontinoi in Sicily, two poleis with long-­standing ties to Athens, but not tribute-­contributors.68 In both cases, their bilateral alliances with the Athenians were renewed at the same time, and new prescripts inscribed over the old ones; so not only do we have a coordinated negotiation process, but one which was coordinated on two separate occasions. Rhegion and Leontinoi were not the only communities in the Greek west to combine forces in negotiations with Athens: the infamous treaty with Egesta, the star of the debate around the three-­ bar sigma dating controversy, is inscribed on the same stone as a (mostly lost) decree for nearby Halikyai, which may make a direct reference back to Egesta.69 In Thucydides’ narrative, moreover, the Egestaian ambassadors at Athens in 415 bc make reference to an Athenian treaty with Leontinoi (at least according to one interpretation of a famously ambiguous sentence).70 Local manifestations of Athenian power could also impact the negotiation process. In the first Aphytis decree, the Athenian colonists in Potidaia, located on the same finger of the Chalkidike as Aphytis, are mentioned, acting as local representatives for the Athenians, and thus distorting the expected bilateral interaction

66  IG I3 40 = OR 131 lines 40–3: ἀγαθ͂ει τύχει τ͂ει Ἀθεναί-|ον πο͂εσθαι τὸν ℎόρκον Ἀθεναίος καὶ Χαλ-|κιδέας καθάπερ Ἐρετριεῦσι ἐφσεφίσατ-|ο ℎο δ͂εμος ℎο Ἀθεναίον. 67  IG I3 39 = AIO 1257 line 2. The toponym and ethnic are restored, but the restoration seems likely. Note that Chalkis and Eretria are not the only communities from the island which are the subject of Athenian decrees: see also the decree for Histiaia (IG I3 41 = AIUK 4.2 no. 3). 68  IG I3 53 = OR 149A = AIUK 4.2 no. 4 (Rhegion); IG I3 54 = OR 149B (Leontinoi). 69  IG I3 11 = OR 166 no. 1–2 (Egesta); IG I3 12 = OR 166 no. 3 (Halikyai). Note that Matthaiou (2004) defines this text concerning Egesta as an exchange of oaths rather than a formal treaty. 70  Thuc. 6.6.2 with Hornblower (2008) 303–7.

42  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc into a three-­way dynamic.71 The Aphytaians swear their oath not only to the Athenians, but also to the colonists: The oath, which the Aphytaians swore to the colonists in Potidaia and to the Athenians . . .72

The colonists in Potidaia are also mentioned in the first Methone decree; messengers sent to Perdikkas are to tell him that they will observe his behaviour.73 Across the two decrees, therefore, a regional dynamic is discernible, impacted by a localized Athenian presence. To summarize, each of these bilateral negotiations resulting in an Athenian decree did not occur in a vacuum but was conducted in the context of a region, and with both parties fully aware of these circumstances. In some cases, know­ ledge of the status of another local community was a concrete bargaining chip for the allied community in question or for the Athenians, with negotiation practices reproduced through local connections. There are also concentrations of decrees concerning particular regions, such as those for Methone and Aphytis, in which references to broader local circumstances show that we have access only to a part of the full picture.

1.3  The Parameters of Negotiation Thus far in my analysis, I have categorized the measures contained in the inscribed Athenian decrees concerning allies; and I have argued that the decrees show not only traces of pro forma diplomacy, but also of the opportunity for communities to assert a degree of real agency through negotiation. I have also identified two of the possible strategies employed by the negotiating parties. But what parameters, if any, defined these negotiations? Were they flexible in form, with the Athenians responding reactively to the unique arguments and circumstances of a particular community? Or did the Athenians control the negotiation process, allowing allied communities to assert agency through a progression they defined? As I indicated in the introduction to this book, familiarity with later categories of epigraphic evidence is a helpful jumping-­off point for my analysis here. In the Seleukid and Roman empires, standardized epigraphic types show the stand­ard­ iza­tion of negotiation processes provided and controlled by the ruling power,

71 See IG I3 62 lines 6–7 for the Thrambaioi. 72  IG I3 62 lines 7–9: τὸν [δὲ ὅρκον, ὃν] | [ὤ]μοσαν Ἀφυταῖο[ι τ]οῖς ἐποίκοι[ς] τ̣[οῖς] ἐμ Ποτειδαία[ι καὶ Ἀθηνα]-|[ί]οις. 73  Quoted above. IG I3 61 = OR 150 line 28.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  43 with set documents indicating set actions. In the Seleukid case, as John Ma’s study of Antiochos III in Asia Minor describes, these canonical epigraphic types were the royal letter, on the part of the king, and the civic decree, on the part of the city, both defined by the language of honour and euergetism.74 Both the king and the cities knew what to expect of each other; cities could assert agency and achieve special statuses, but only according to the terms controlled by the king. The Seleukid king operated in a world where the use of public epigraphy was long-­established and ubiquitous, and connected to widely used diplomatic processes. By contrast, the Athenian decrees under consideration in this chapter stand right at the beginning of the history of the widespread inscription of public documents by any Greek community; and the Athenian imposition of control over so many other communities was novel for a Greek polis. At this early stage in the development of both Athenian public epigraphic culture and imperial power, decrees were not standardized, beyond the use of a formulaic introductory prescript. This lack of homogeneity allows us a valuable insight into specific bilateral interactions between the Athenians and individual communities. But some aspects of their form and language were—­increasingly—­repeated and rec­og­niz­ able, both in comparison with the wider corpus of Athenian documents, and with the epigraphic and diplomatic practices of the wider Greek world. Analysis of this progression towards homogeneity in epigraphic form and language, I contend, shows that the Athenians did provide some set parameters of negotiation. They moved towards standardization in both epigraphic form and in the underlying actions represented by the epigraphic form. The development of these parameters can be best discerned through the div­ ision of the decrees into three roughly demarcated categories. The first group is made up of documents showing the incorporation or reincorporation of communities into the empire, which record the oaths made by both parties to ratify their agreement. The second group contains documents with less homogeneous form, which lay down measures for communities already in the empire, pre­dom­ in­ant­ly the award of privileges. The third group is composed of documents which could be listed in either of the two previous categories but are recognizable to a significant extent as honorific documents. The dates of many of the documents in the first two groups are debated. However, almost all of the (small) number of decrees in the third group can be securely dated to the final decade of the fifth century. It is reasonable to assume that this final group of decrees was, for the most part, later, and that the majority of the decrees in the first and second categories date to before 410; in all likelihood, many of them date to before the end of the Archidamian War in 422/1 bc. This broad-­ brush chronology will allow me to speculate on possible synchronic

74  Ma (1999).

44  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc development; the first section of the appendix provides more specific discussion of the dating of individual documents. In the following sections, I will consider the three categories of decree in turn. In each case, I will first discuss their background as epigraphic documents and records of diplomacy, before analysing their language and form, and asking what this shows about the parameters of the negotiation process.

1.3.1.1  The Exchange of Oaths and the Enforcement of Control The first category of decrees under consideration can be described as recording the incorporation (or reincorporation) of communities into the empire.75 Thucydides describes many such moments of integration, but usually without much elaboration.76 As stated above, most of these decrees are very likely dated to before 413, some perhaps as early as the middle of the century. At the very least, the first decree concerning Samos can be securely dated to Samos’ revolt in 439 bc, allowing epigraphic analysis some years before the Peloponnesian War.77 These decrees have two characteristics. First, they are constructed as treaty documents. They record how the alliance between the Athenians and the allied community in question was ratified by the exchange of oaths, although both oaths are not preserved in all cases. Secondly, the measures contained in these decrees largely concern the increase of Athenian control over certain spheres of activity within these allied communities. There is little uniformity in the language describing these measures, but the record of the oaths gives these decrees something of a recognizable structure. The first aspect of these decrees—­the alliance, ratified by the swearing of oaths—­is by no means solely an Athenian phenomenon. Treaties between communities began to be inscribed on stone during the sixth century. An agreement between the Italian community of Sybaris and the Serdaioi, an otherwise unknown group, is perhaps dated between 550 and 525 bc, making it among the

75  IG I3 14 = OR 121 = AIO 296 (Erythrai); IG I3 15 fragments a and d (Erythrai); IG I3 21 (Miletos); IG I3 29 (unknown allied city); IG I3 37 (Kolophon; note also a further text concerning Kolophon with a possible reference to an oath, IG I3 42); possibly IG I3 38 (Aegina); IG I3 39 (Eretria?) = AIO 1257; IG I3 40 = OR 131 (Chalkis); IG I3 48 = OR 139 = AIO 1169 (Samos); IG I3 75 = AIUK 3 no. 1 (Halieis, not a tribute-­paying ally, but host to a garrison); also referred to in IG I3 62 (Aphytis). IG I3 118 = OR 185 (Selymbria) records a reincorporation after a revolt, but contains honorific elements, so will be considered in the third category. Some inscriptions concerning communities which did not contribute tribute also preserve an exchange of oaths, for example the aforementioned IG I3 11 = OR 166 nos 1–2 (Egesta); IG I3 12 = OR 166 no. 3 (Halikyai). 76  For example, Samos’s (and Byzantion’s) reintegration at the end of the Pentekontaetia, which contains more detail than other such descriptions: Thuc. 1.117.3. 77  As pointed out by Polly Low. IG I3 48 = OR 139 = AIO 1169 (Samos). See Thuc. 1.117.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  45 earliest of all preserved Greek treaties.78 It certainly predates 510 bc, when Sybaris was destroyed.79 In the agreement, Sybaris acts as the head of an alliance: The Sybarites and their allies and the Serdaioi made an agreement for friendship faithful and without guile for ever. Guarantors, Zeus, Apollo and the other gods and the city Poseidonia.80

The phenomenon of a Greek community making a treaty on behalf of other allied communities had precedent, then. The document does not preserve the creation of an alliance between the Sybarites and the Serdaioi, but another early treaty, between the Eleans and the Heraeans, dated to around 500, explicitly testifies to a symmachia (συνμαχία).81 Neither of these early documents records the exchange of oaths (although the invocation of the gods in the Sybarite document perhaps implies a similar form of interaction). Taking an oath, an act which invoked ‘powers greater than oneself to uphold the truth of a declaration, by putting a curse upon oneself if it is false’,82 was a common practice between private individuals at a very early stage in the Greek world, and had parallels across the Near East.83 It was only in the archaic period, however, that evidence shows the oath as a means of generating trust between communities.84 The earliest attested treaty ratified by oath is that between the Spartans and Kroisos of Lydia in the mid-­sixth century, referred to by Herodotus.85 In the fifth century, the practice became increasingly widespread. The Athenians and their allies took an oath in 478 at the beginning of their alliance (many of the oaths discussed here were likely conceptual renewals or extensions of this initial agreement),86 while the Athenians and the Spartans took oaths on the completion of their various peace treaties, including, for instance, the Peace of Nikias in 422/1.87 The exchange of oaths by its very nature implied a level of reciprocity. Indeed, these decrees, where the Athenian oath is preserved, show the Athenians committing to certain behaviour, in response to promises made by the allied communities. The second aspect of the decrees—­the laying down of tighter controls on allied communities—­is also not entirely without precedent, but here it is less well attested, and comes from within the Athenian epigraphic tradition. The very 78  ML 10. 79 See Diod. Sic. 12.9.5–6; Hdt. 6.21; Strab. 6.1.13 (where the extent of Sybarite power is also described). 80  ἀρμόχθεν οἰ Συβαρῖ-|ται κ’ οἰ σύνμαχοι κ’ οἰ | Σερδαῖοι ἐπὶ φιλότατ-|ι πιστᾶι κ’ ἀδόλοι ἀε-|ίδιον· πρόξενοι ὀ Ζε-|ὺς κ’ Ὀπόλον κ’ λλοι θ-|εοὶ καὶ πόλις Ποσειδα-|νία. 81  ML 17 line 2. 82 Janko (1992) 194; used as the basic definition for the Nottingham project on oaths, led by Sommerstein; see Sommerstein and Torrance (2014) 1. 83  See Bederman (2001). 84  Sommerstein and Bayliss (2012) 148. 85  Hdt. 1.69–70. 86 [Arist.] Ath. Pol. 23.5.; Plut. Arist. 25.1. 87  Thuc. 5.17: ὤμοσαν.

46  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc earli­est Athenian decree to survive, which is usually interpreted as concerning an early Athenian cleruchy on Salamis, shows that the concept of laying down regulations for an external community through an inscribed monument was not unknown to the Athenians.88 It is generally dated by scholars to the final decade of the sixth century, after the Kleisthenic reforms. The crucial word at the end of the first line of the decree is lost, except for the letters omicron and sigma, so the community targeted by its measures cannot be known with certainty, although it is usually restored as ‘cleruchs’: The People decided. The (cleruchs?) in Salamis are to live in Salamis . . . to pay tax at Athens and to serve in the army . . .89

The evidence for a cleruchy on Salamis at this time is slim, so this restoration must be not be considered entirely certain,90 although other evidence certainly points to Athenian interest in the island in the sixth century.91 Regardless, the decree shows the Athenians asserting control over an external population, albeit one very close to Attica. It contains references to payments (μι[σθ]͂ον, μισθ͂οι),92 magistrates ([ἄ]|ρχο[ν]τα, [τ]ὸν ἄρχοντ[α]),93 and some kind of public body, probably a treasury (ἐς δεμόσιο[ν]).94 These measures fall into the spheres of control evident in later decrees. While we cannot argue that there was a long tradition of documents of this kind, we can conclude that the Athenians had inscribed documents establishing control in external communities before, even if the extent of their fifth-­century power was unprecedented. There is an inherent tension in the decrees in this first category, as there was in the phenomenon of an alliance becoming an empire. The Athenians adapted the pre-­existing, non-­Athenian form of the treaty document to include measures establishing control, to define their interaction with often recalcitrant allied communities.95 Simultaneously, however, this form allowed the allies an element of agency, the potential for negotiation, as the form itself and the underlying actions implied reciprocity, and, indeed, the Athenians made commitments in exchange.

88  IG I3 1 = ML 14 = AIO 1672, with a new fragment published by Matthaiou (1990–1) 9–14. 89  Lines 1–3: ἔδοχσεν τ͂οι δέμοι· τ̣[ὸς ἐ Σ]αλαμ̣[ῖνι κλερόχ]ος | οἰκ͂εν ἐᾶ Σαλαμῖνι [․․5․․]λεν [․․7․․ Ἀθέ]νε-|σι τελ͂εν καὶ στρατ[εύεσθ]αι. 90  Taylor, in her 1997 study of Salamis, argues against the existence of a cleruchy; her caution is sensible. The other minimal evidence for the cleruchy includes a later scholiast on Pindar (Σ. Pind. Nem. 2.19) and a fourth-­century decree concerning the cleruchy on Lemnos, which makes a comparison to Salamis (IG II2 30 b line 7: [καθάπ]ερ τοῖς ἐς Σαλαμ[ῖνα], ‘as with those on Salamis’). See also Moreno (2007) 102. 91 Plut. Sol. 8–9 describes the Athenian conflict with Megara over the island and includes a quotation of Solonian verse referring to it. 92  Lines 4; 5. See Van Wees (2015) 92 for a discussion of these payments in the context of archaic Athenian fiscality. 93  Lines 7–8; 11. 94  Line 7. 95  See Sommerstein and Bayliss (2012) 208.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  47

1.3.1.2  The Decrees for Chalkis This tension can be further understood if we consider the decrees for Chalkis again (see Figure 1.1; see Map 1 for Chalkis’s location).96 The preserved part of the first decree begins with the Athenian oath. As we saw above, the Athenians commit to respecting the rights of the community and the individual rights of its citizens.97 The Athenians also promise to allow the Chalkidians quick access to the assembly, an arguable privilege, ensuring speedy future negotiations.98 Then, in their oath, the Chalkidians swear to refrain from behaviour harmful to the Athenians, excluding actions by a chain of negatives: I shall not revolt from the Athenian people by any trick or device whatsoever, either in word or in deed, nor shall I obey anyone who revolts.99

This so-­called ‘anti-­deceit clause’ is present in various forms in other oaths.100 While, to a certain extent, the language of the oaths for both the Athenians and their allies is specific to the particular circumstances of the allied community,101 we see here that the Athenians also created some formulaic language for the oaths, suited to the requirements of their power dynamic with their allies. The next provision of the oath, however, is a unique formulation in extant documents. The Chalkidians commit to the future payment of tribute, but to the level of assessment ‘they persuade the Athenians to agree’;102 once again, future negotiation is ensured. The second decree, after laying down arrangements for the taking of the oaths, resolves that Chalkidian hostages will remain in Athenian custody as previously specified. The decree, however, following the precedent of the first document, allows for future negotiation on this issue: When it seems good to them, they will deliberate and make an agreement or exchange in a way that seems suitable to the Athenians and the Chalkidians.103

96  IG I3 40 = OR 131. For a useful overview of the decree, see Lambert (2017). 97  Lines 4–10, quoted above. 98  Lines 12–14, quoted above. 99  Lines 21–4: οὐκ ἀπο[σ]τέ-|σομαι ἀπὸ τ͂ο [δ]έμο τ͂ο Ἀθεναίον οὔτε τέ[χ]ν-|ει οὔτε μεχαν͂ει οὐδεμιᾶι οὐδ ἔπει οὐδὲ | ἔργοι οὐδὲ τ͂οι ἀφισταμένοι πείσομαι. 100  IG I3 37 lines 36–7 (Kolophon); IG I3 39 = AIO 1257 lines 7–9 (? Eretria); IG I3 48 = OR 139 = AIO 1169 lines 18–19 (Samos). See Wheeler (1984) for ‘anti-­deceit’ clauses; Bolmarcich (2007), especially at p. 32, for discussion of this particular formulation. See Chapter 4.3.4 for further discussion of ‘anti-­deceit’ clauses in Athenian and Thasian contexts. 101  For specific oaths, see IG I3 14 = OR 121 = AIO 296 lines 26–7 (Erythrai); IG I3 62 lines 7–9 (Aphytis). 102  IG I3 40 = OR 131 lines 25–7: κ-|αὶ τὸν φόρον ℎυποτελ͂ο Ἀθεναίοισιν, ℎὸν | ἂν πείθο Ἀθεναίος. See Chapter 2.3. 103  Lines 49–52: ℎ-|όταν δὲ δοκ͂ει, βολευσάμενοι ποέσοσι τὲ-|ν διαλλα[γ]έν, καθότι ἂν δοκ͂ει ἐπιτέδ̣ειο|ν ναι Ἀθεναίοις καὶ Χαλκιδεῦσιν.

48  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

Figure 1.1  Athenian decrees for Chalkis on Euboia (IG I3 40; 446/5 bc or 424/3 bc). © Acropolis Museum, 2012, photograph by Socratis Mavrommatis.

Simultaneously, therefore, the Athenians maintain control over the Chalkidians through the forcible holding of their hostages but open the door for future persuasion. The term ἐπιτέδ̣ειον (suitable) is ambiguous, perhaps deliberately so (note that it is also used in one of the conditional clauses of the first Methone decree, mentioned above);104 it allows the Athenians to avoid certain commitments, but also gives the Chalkidians a possible opening. 104  IG I3 61= OR 150 line 12.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  49 The two decrees, then, show the laying down of Athenian control, particularly in the contents of the Chalkidian oath (where generalized language formulated specifically for this purpose is used), and in the measures concerning the Chalkidian hostages. The backdrop to this is the threat of violence and the taking of hostages. But there is a level of reciprocity. The Athenians make an oath too, swearing to uphold Chalkidian rights to a certain degree, both on the level of the community and on that of the individual. Even in the Chalkidian oath, the possibility for persuasion is present, through the clause allowing negotiation over tribute assessment. Of course, the Athenians demand much more than they promise. Some of their concessions may be simply rhetorical, but we cannot assume that they did not have an actual impact on the Chalkidians. All in all, the interaction is  by no means unidirectional. The use of both the active (πείθο) and passive (πειθομένοις) forms of the same verb to refer to the Chalkidians, meaning ‘to persuade’ and ‘to obey’ respectively, shows the linguistic and conceptual connection between the two actions.105 In sum, we can see that the Athenians used an established diplomatic paradigm, the treaty and exchange of oaths, resulting in a general kind of document not exclusively used by the Athenians, to define their negotiation process with an allied community at the point of the ally’s entry or re-­entry into their alliance. The paradigm allowed allied communities the possibility of limited negotiation and reciprocity, even if this possibility was not always realized. But, of course, the interaction—­and the resulting document—­was defined by an uneven power dynamic.

1.3.2.1  Privileges and Honours The next category of decrees is not defined by such a recognizable form. It consists of decrees with measures concerning communities already in the alliance, measures which can often be identified as concessions or privileges.106 Again, caution must be exercised regarding dating, but it is likely that these decrees date  before 410 bc. The Methone decrees certainly date to the 420s and the Archidamian War, and the Aphytis decrees probably were passed at a similar time. Scholars conventionally date the Phaselis decree as early as the middle of  the century, although I favour a later date in the 420s. Arguably, there is no pre­ce­dent for these decrees, either from within the Athenian tradition or from elsewhere. The measures contained in them are largely described in language not found in other documents, suggesting that they were individually negotiated (or negotiated 105  IG I3 40 = OR 131 lines 27; 15. 106  IG I3 10 = OR 120 (Phaselis); IG I3 61 = OR 150 (Methone); IG I3 62 (Aphytis); IG I3 63 (Aphytis); IG I3 66 (Mytilene); IG I3 96 (Samos); IG I3 1454 = OR 136 = AIO 954 (Eteokarpathians).

50  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc within local contexts, as described above). For example, apart from the prescripts, the Methone decrees are mostly composed of content described in terms that is not found in any other document in the corpus (with the exception of the grain import privilege in the second decree, which is paralleled in the first decree for Aphytis). It seems that these communities engaged in individualized ne­go­ti­ation processes, possibly initiated as a result of their own impetus; that these processes were not necessarily widely available; and that the Athenians were responding reactively to particular local circumstances. But in the two fragmentary and difficult decrees for Aphytis, as well as the decree for the Eteokarpathians, the decree for Mytilene, and the decree for Samos, some phrases familiar from the formulaic language of honorific diplomacy begin to emerge. The Aphytaians are ‘praised’ (ἐπαινέσαι),107 while the Eteokarpathians are to be recorded as ‘benefactors of the Athenians’ (εὐερ-|[γέτας Ἀθην]α̣[ί]ων).108 This encroachment of honorific language indicates the beginning of the development which defines my third category of decrees. The third category consists of a few decrees—­for the communities of Sigeion, Neapolis, Halikarnassos, and Samos—­dating from the end of the fifth century, which take a recognizable honorific form.109 The decrees for Selymbria and the Klazomenians at Daphnous also have prominent honorific language, more so than in the decrees for Aphytis and the Eteokarpathians just mentioned.110 The award of honours was not an Athenian invention; we have earlier evidence from elsewhere, for example, for the award of the honorific status of proxenia, whereby an individual would represent another polis in his home com­mu­nity.111 But the Athenians were the first to record honorific decrees on stone in any great numbers, as they were the first to routinely inscribe public inscriptions more generally, and they dominated the wider honorific epigraphic record in the fifth century.112 They had already begun to inscribe decrees awarding honours to individual foreigners perhaps as early as the middle of the century, although without the elaboration of later texts;113 by the final decade, they also began to use honours in their interactions with communities as collective entities. By contrast, we have fewer than twenty honorific decrees in total surviving from allied communities in the fifth century, all of them honouring individuals;114 and there are

107  IG I3 62 line 13. 108  IG I3 1454 = OR 136 = AIO 954 lines 7–8. 109  IG I3 17 (Sigeion); IG I3 101 = OR 187 = AIO 1176 (Neapolis); IG I3 103 (Halikarnassos); IG I3 127 = OR 191 = AIO 796 (Samos). 110  IG I3 118 = OR 185 (Selymbria); IG I3 119 = OR 186 (Klazomenians at Daphnous). 111  For instance, a Corcyraean is identified as a proxenos on a late seventh-­century cenotaph (ML 4). 112  Statistical analysis provided, once again, by Liddel (2010). 113  A study of Athenian proxenies by Reiter (1991), however, argues that none necessarily should be dated before the 430s bc, so we should not be certain of the earlier chronology. 114  Liddel (2010) 113.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  51 only a handful of honorific texts from beyond the empire.115 There is also no ­evidence of allied communities honouring Athenians: as Polly Low notes, ‘the flow of honorific decrees between Athens and the members of the Delian League is remarkably unidirectional’.116 Looking ahead, by the second half of the fourth century, the Athenians were inscribing honorific decrees for foreign communities and individuals (and most of all for their own citizens) in even more considerable numbers.117 By this time, and even more so in the Hellenistic period, many Greek communities were creating and maintaining diplomatic connections with each other (and with supra-­ local powers, such as the Seleukid king) through such standardized honorific institutions, and inscribing the resulting documents.118 Honorific institutions created prescribed interactions, and ways of expressing these interactions, resulting in established and formulaic epigraphic types.119 A decree resulting from the actions of honorific institutions can essentially be broken down into two standard constituent parts, each of which has formulaic language associated with it.120 The first was a motivation clause, describing the honorand’s qualities and actions which made him worthy of the honours. The second part was a decision clause describing the honours to be awarded. To return to my third category of decrees, this division into motivation and decision clauses is visible in the decrees for Sigeion, Neapolis, Halikarnassos, and Samos, while the decrees for Selymbria and the Klazomenians at Daphnous consist of largely formulaic honorific language. The decrees for Neapolis, Samos, as well as an otherwise lost decree for Kios,121 also show developments in their monumental form, namely the decoration of the stelai with document reliefs, a phenomenon which would become more common in the fourth century, and would be primarily associated with honorific texts.122 The reliefs perhaps imply that the stelai were considered to be among the honours awarded.123

115 See, for example, an Argive proxeny decree dated to the middle of the fifth century (SEG 13.239). 116  Low (2007) 242. 117 For the fourth-­century honorific record, see the many contributions of Stephen Lambert, including (2004) and (2006). 118  An evocative description of this world is provided by Ma (2003). The scholarship on honours and euergetism within poleis, as well as between them, is extensive: one should mention the foundational studies of Veyne (1976) and Gauthier (1985); more recently, Domingo Gygax (2016), (2020) has looked at the origins of euergetism in the archaic and classical periods. 119  See, for example, Marek (1984) and Mack (2015) for studies of one institution, proxeny. 120  Clearly described by Ma (2013) 56. See also Henry (1983) for the language of Athenian honorific decrees. 121  IG I3 101 = OR 187 = AIO 1176 with Lawton (1995) no. 7 (Neapolis); IG I3 127 = OR 191 = AIO 796 with Lawton (1995) no. 12 (Samos); IG I3 124 with Lawton (1995) no. 9 (Kios). 122  Lawton (1995) 4. 123  See again Lambert (2018) chapter 3 for this function of inscribed honorific decrees. See also Blanshard (2006) and Elsner (2015) for complications of the relationship between text and image on these monuments; Mack (2018) for emphasis of the theological aspect of the reliefs.

52  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc But the documents in my third category are not simply formulaic honorific decrees. They still contain specific measures for individual communities described in individualized language, and they perform some of the same functions as the documents of the two previous categories. More detailed consideration of two examples will illustrate this multifunctionality.

1.3.2.2  The Decrees for Selymbria and Neapolis First, the decree for Selymbria, dated to shortly after 408 bc, shows how the form of the treaty document with the exchange of oaths was adapted to incorporate more honorific language (see Maps 1 and 7 for Selymbria’s location).124 The document consists of two parts. First, it gives the terms of the treaty made on the ground by Alkibiades in Selymbria, a community located on the European side of the Propontis, not far from the Bosporos. It revolted in 410, before being recaptured by Alkibiades in 408 (as reported by Xenophon).125 The measures contained in the treaty are mostly specific to the Selymbrians. The Athenians promise to return Selymbrian hostages, and not to take more in the future (note the contrast with the decrees for Chalkis).126 The Athenians also commit to not interfering in the internal political organization of the community, along with a possible award of autonomia.127 The grant of autonomy shows more lenient treatment on the part of the Athenians than in past decrees, but simultaneously reinforces the unequal power dynamic, as the status could only have meaning for this smaller community vis-­à-­vis the more powerful Athenians.128 The second part of the document is the ratification of Alkibiades’ treaty by a decree in Athens. Here, a transition into more standard honorific language is ­visible. The decree resolves that not only are the hostages to be released, and their names erased from the record, but a prominent individual among them, Apollodoros son of Empedos, is to be praised.129 Apollodoros, whose father was an Athenian proxenos, and another individual from Selymbria, are to be made Athenian proxenoi.130 Here we can see that the Athenians still used the treaty and exchange of oaths to define their negotiations with an ally at the time of that ally’s re-­entry into the alliance. The exact terms agreed in their interaction were largely described in language unparalleled elsewhere in the corpus, but the interaction was now also circumscribed by the more standardized language of honorific diplomacy.

124  IG I3 118 = OR 185. 125 Xen. Hell. 1.3.10; see also Diod. Sic. 13.66.4 and Plut. Alc. 30. 126  IG I3 118 = OR 185 lines 8–10. 127  Lines 10–12. 128  See Ma (2009) 128 for this understanding of autonomia. 129  Lines 37–8. 130  Lines 42–5.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  53 Secondly, the first decree for the Neapolitans (dated precisely to 410/9 by the archon year) illustrates how the Athenian decree awarding privileges adopted an even more prominent honorific form (see Figure 1.2; see Maps 1 and 3).131 It was inscribed on a stele with a document relief, along with at least two other decrees concerning the Neapolitans (one of which survives). The decree is split into the standard bipartite structure of the motivation clause and the decision clause. The language of the motivation clause is initially very specific; this precision was clearly significant for the Neapolitans, for they asked for the wording to be changed, as discussed above.132 The next lines are highly fragmentary. There are references to sums of m ­ oney.133 They are likely Neapolitan contributions to the Athenians, but this is not certain. When the text becomes more complete, it does seem to record a financial contribution to the Athenians on the part of the Neapolitans.134 The end of the mo­tiv­ ation clause contains more generalized language, rather than specific descriptions of services performed by the Neapolitans: They are keen to do whatever good they can for the city of the Athenians, and have declared this both by [word and deed] . . .135

The decision clause listing the award of honours is then signalled by an explicit declaration of reciprocity. The Athenians make it clear that the honours to be described are in return for the actions and qualities listed in the preceding mo­tiv­ ation clause: In return for this benefaction . . .136

The honour of prosodos, access to the council and assembly, is awarded, which is standard in later honorific texts.137 After the listing of the specifications for publication, the common invitation to hospitality in the council house is issued.138 In sum, the first decree for Neapolis show a mixture of the general and the specific, sometimes described in terms not found elsewhere, sometimes in more formulaic language. The overall structure is recognizable from later honorific decrees; it makes the negotiation process more explicit, as we might imagine that the motivation clause lays out some of the arguments offered by the Neapolitans to convince the Athenians to award privileges. They asked the Athenians for some unique concessions, but also attempted to gain honorific capital. 131  IG I3 101 = OR 187 = AIO 1176. 132  Lines 6–11; see Chapter 4.3.3. 133  Line 22. 134  Lines 32–3. 135  Lines 33–5: καὶ πρόθυμοί εἰσ[ι ποῖεν ὅ τι δύν]-|[ανται ἀγ]αθὸν αὐτοὶ ἐπαγγειλάμενοι καὶ λ[όγοι καὶ ἔργοι ἐς τ]-|[ὴν πόλ]ιν τὴν Ἀθηναίον. 136  Line 35: καὶ ἀντὶ τῆς εὐεργε[σίας ταύτης]. 137  Line 37; see Henry (1983) 191–9. 138  Lines 46–7.

54  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

Figure 1.2  Decrees for Neapolis in Thrace with document relief (IG I3 101; 410–c.407 bc). The relief depicts Athena leaning on her shield and stretching out her hand, presumably to the Neapolitan goddess Parthenos (now lost). © Acropolis Museum, 2018, photograph by Yiannis Koulelis.

The circumstances of the negotiations in the cases of Selymbria and Neapolis are familiar from earlier decrees, but the language and form of the decrees shows that the way in which the negotiations occurred and were subsequently represented in documents changed. The language was not simply rhetorical. The formulaic language represents formulaic process, set actions operating within the defined parameters of an institution. Moreover, while some of the honours may have been symbolic, we have good evidence to suggest that they could have real meaning, at least to certain non-­Athenian individuals.139 Thucydides provides examples of allied proxenoi putting themselves in harm’s way in their own communities on behalf of the Athenians, not least Peithias of Corcyra, a ‘volunteer

139  For instance, a decree of 410/9 bc concerning the alleged assassins of the oligarch Phrynichos, supplemented by a speech of Lysias (Lys. 13.72), documents how foreign individuals attempted to use bribery to gain Athenian honours (IG I3 102 = OR 182 lines 39–40). Bribery for honours was to become a common allegation in fourth-­century oratory: see Liddel (2020b) 91. The reception of Athenian decrees among non-­Athenians is discussed more generally by Liddel (2020b) in chapter 4, with the foreign perception of Athenian honours at pp. 165–7.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  55 proxenos’ (ἐθελοπρόξενος), who ended up being murdered in the Corcyrean council house for his pro-­Athenian sentiments.140 Both Peter Liddel and Nikolaos Papazarkadas identify the increasing pre­dom­ in­ance of honorific form and language in Athenian decrees as indicative of a change in the Athenian attitude towards their allies, forced by the difficult circumstances of the final years of the fifth century. Liddel suggests that it coincides with the decline of Athenian power,141 while Papazarkadas argues that these decrees mark a new, gentler kind of Athenian power during the Ionian War, defined by ‘approbation instead of opprobrium’.142 Certainly, the Athenians made more concessions, as we saw in the Selymbrian case. It is also possible that the award of symbolic honours was convenient for the Athenians in practical terms when their waning power prevented the bestowal of more concrete privileges. The increasingly honorific form is perhaps not only indicative of a more lenient approach, however. The Athenian use of the institutions of honorific diplomacy to demarcate their negotiations would also have meant a more controlled process, where allied communities would have completed set actions in a known, available progression. Allied ambassadors would have come to Athens with a concrete idea of how to proceed. The use of this kind of diplomatic institution, also used in interactions between more equal communities, may have been intended to give allies a sense of agency within the negotiation, and to offer well-­ known, desirable rewards in return for support. I agree with Polly Low that the absence of evidence for allied communities honouring Athenians in the fifth century is likely indicative of an actual imbalance in the award of honours within the empire;143 this was a system exploited by the Athenians only unidirectionally. The Athenians were not the sole architects of these honorific institutions. It is not clear, however, whether the Athenians were co-­opting standardized processes and adapting them to their own unique dynamic, or were innovating, defining the terms of the interaction themselves. It is possible, given the lack of evidence to the contrary, that the Athenians were the first to award honours to entire communities, rather than to individuals. But when they began to use such institutions widely, they would undoubtedly soon have become known to audiences in allied communities, if they were not beforehand. The Athenians were perhaps becoming more fluent as holders of imperial power, and as drafters of imperial decrees. To tie these threads together, different modes of allied negotiation emerge from my analysis of the form and language of the decrees. First, allies who had revolted

140  Thuc. 3.70; see also Thuc. 3.2, where Mytilenean proxenoi warn the Athenians of their polis’s impending revolt; and a fourth-­century example is provided by a decree concerning Iulis on Keos, IG II2 111 = RO 39, discussed in the monograph conclusion. 141  Liddel (2010) 113. 142  Papazarkadas (2014) 227. 143  Low (2007) 242. For an opposing view, see Mack (2015) 224–5 and Lambert (2018) 85, who both see this imbalance as a product of the particular epigraphic culture at Athens, in contrast to the limited cultures of inscription elsewhere.

56  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc could, to a limited extent, negotiate with the Athenians at the time of their re-­ entry to the alliance; this was true at least from the time that the inscribed decrees began to emerge. There were models for the Athenians to follow when circumscribing this interaction: they used the established paradigm of the treaty and the exchange of oaths, which was adapted to the requirements of their unequal power dynamic. The use of the oath exchange intrinsically entailed a level of reciprocity, and thus even disloyal allies were given a limited scope to negotiate, even if the results were limited. For the Athenians, these negotiations with recalcitrant allies through the vehicle of treaties and oaths was perhaps intended to give allies a sense of agency at the critical moment of re-­entry by maintaining the appearance of alliance. It perhaps did not even matter whether actual benefits were awarded; the intention may have been to create a sense of reciprocal dialogue. Secondly, communities within the alliance did, on occasion, negotiate with the Athenians in order to obtain concessions, but, judging by the complete lack of uniformity in the epigraphic record, this was a much more ad hoc process. There were few precedents for this kind of interaction from within the Greek world. Ambassadors from allied communities could come to Athens and attempt to gain privileges and concessions, but the exact terms of the negotiation depended on the circumstances of the community in question. The ways in which negotiation was conducted between the Athenians and their allies appear to have changed as the fifth century progressed. This observation must be made with some caution, but it is indisputable that the surviving decrees awarding privileges and concessions—­ and the treaty documents to a lesser extent—­increasingly contained the language of honorific diplomacy. I am inclined to see this change in language and structure as indicative of a change in practice: I argue that this use of honorific diplomacy by the Athenians not only coincided with a more lenient approach towards their allies, but that it also testifies to a more controlled process, circumscribed by set actions within a known institution. The Athenians, with the ever-­increasing risk of allied revolt, and the financial pressures of the Archidamian and Ionian Wars (which will be discussed more fully in Chapter 2), perhaps saw the benefit of channelling allied energies into a more defined negotiation process, which rewarded loyalty with honours. The more controlled process also perhaps reduced the risk of allies attempting to negotiate in areas beyond Athenian control. Before moving on, brief consideration of comparable evidence from the fourth century can provide corroboration of my analysis. While the distinctive geo­pol­it­ ical circumstances of the fourth century and differing dynamics of negotiation cannot be discussed fully here (for a start, there is evidence that the synedrion or council of the Second Athenian Confederacy was operational, opening the door to different kinds of multilateral negotiation),144 the fourth-­century epigraphic 144  SEG 31.67 = RO 29 records an Athenian decree for Paros on the same stone as an associated decision of the allied synedrion.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  57 record also shows considerable continuity from the end of the fifth. Indeed, the Athenians maintained their alliance, ratified with oaths, and continued to develop their utilization of honours to negotiate relationships with less powerful poleis. While the foundation document of the Second Confederacy does not contain any  references to oaths,145 subsequent documents imply that an oath was sworn,146 and states joining or rejoining the alliance traded oaths with the Athenians.147 Moreover, the Athenians inscribed decrees honouring communities both during their brief push to re-­establish power in the Aegean in the 390s and 380s,148 and during their Second Confederacy from the 370s onwards.149 Honours were utilized even in negotiations laying down measures of Athenian control: for example, we will see in the next chapter how the Athenians honoured the Klazomenians in 387/6 bc, even as they imposed a harbour tax,150 and perhaps a governor and garrison, on the community.151 Moreover, the fact, observed by Stephen Lambert, that the Athenians ceased to inscribe decrees honouring communities for a few decades when the rise of Macedon curtailed their power in the Aegean, instead pursuing foreign policy aims through the honouring of individuals, is telling: decrees for communities were perhaps perceived to be useful for negotiations within an unequal power dynamic.152 That said, it should be noted that the new inter-polis dynamics of the fourth century also allowed for allied states to inscribe honours for the Athenians in turn.153 To fully understand the increased Athenian utilization of honorific institutions to circumscribe their negotiations with allies, however, we now need to shift our attention from the communities qua communities, and instead think about the individuals who were actually doing the negotiating. It is to these individuals that I will turn in the second part of the chapter.

1.4  The Negotiators: A Pre-­Existing Elite Network Thus far, I have argued that imperial diplomacy allowed for formalized ne­go­ti­ ation processes between Athens and allied communities. But I have neglected to consider the identities of the individual representatives who negotiated on behalf of their communities, and how these identities may have impacted on their

145  IG II2 43 = RO 22. 146  See the decree for Methymna of 378/7 bc, which refers to the oaths sworn by the other allies when joining the alliance (IG II2 42 = RO 23 = AIO 803 lines 11–14). 147  As in the decree for Iulis, discussed in the monograph conclusion (IG II2 111 = RO 39). 148  For example, the decree of 387/6 bc honouring Klazomenai (IG II2 28 = RO 18 = AIO 800). 149  For example, the decrees of 369/8 and 368/7 honouring Mytilene (IG II2 107 = RO 31). 150  IG II2 28 = RO 18 = AIO 800 lines 7–8. 151  Lines 13–14. 152  Lambert (2018) 100–5. 153  To my knowledge, the earliest known decree from an allied community for an Athenian is that from Siphnos, published by Papazarkadas (2007), dated by the author to the late fifth or, more likely, early fourth century.

58  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc communities’ relations with the Athenians. The empire was, after all, to borrow Polly Low’s phrase, ‘a network of human interaction’.154 My neglect is in part due to the nature of my chosen sources: while the epigraphic record, as I have argued, can illuminate diplomatic dynamics at the level of the community, identifiable individuals only come into view occasionally (more on this in a moment). Due to the particular construction of the decrees, both the Athenian politicians and allied ambassadors involved are often anonymous, their communities presented as homogeneous collective entities.155 But if we drill down into the available evidence (and here our focus needs to return to the literary sources, alongside the epigraphic record), we can derive some information about the key players in Athenian imperial diplomacy. And it seems that a considerable number were elite, wealthy, and with their own interpolis, even supra-polis, connections.156 On the Athenian side, ambassadors were some of the least democratically appointed of all public officials.157 Specific individuals were often proposed for ambassadorial positions in the council or assembly meeting where the terms of a decree were drafted, rather than selected by lot.158 Ambassadors had to fund their own travel, at least in part, as the polis’s allowance was not large; they therefore had to have private wealth.159 In a number of cases, there is evidence to show that ambassadors were ‘experts’, with particular knowledge or personal and familial connections to influential foreigners. To return to the second decree for Methone, for instance, Leogoras, the father of the well-­known orator Andokides, was appointed as one of the ambassadors to Macedon;160 we know from his speeches that the elite Andokides had connections to the Macedonian king, and we can assume this was a familial inheritance from his father.161 Generals, similarly, were never chosen by lot, but rather were elected in the assembly;162 and they, like Alkibiades in the decree for Selymbria, could exercise a significant degree of influence on interactions with allied communities abroad. We know from Thucydides that Alkibiades was the pre-­eminent Athenian aristocrat, with proclivities for exclusive parties and chariot races; he had friends among the elite of Miletos,163 and likely also Chios.164

154  Low (2007) 238. 155  See Lazar (2023). 156  Davies (1971) provides specific parameters for elite status in terms of wealth and property; Mitchell (1997) makes the case for the importance of aristocratic relationships in Greek diplomacy more generally, although she also notes exceptions; Humphreys (2018) Part 4 shows the importance of kinship connections in Athenian politics. 157  Humphreys (2018) 500. 158  See Dem. 19.121–2. 159  As implied at Theophr. Char. 30.7. 160  IG I3 61 = OR 150 line 51. 161  For example, Andoc. 2.11; see Humphreys (2018) 501–4 for discussion and further examples. More on Andokides’ Macedonian connections in Chapter 4.2.3. 162  Mitchell (1997) 96. 163  Thuc. 8.17.2. 164  Thuc. 8.14.1–2 with Mitchell (1997) 47–8.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  59 Such individuals were likely also involved in negotiations with allied communities at Athens. They may have proposed relevant decrees. Thucydides certainly implies that Athenians with connections to the Mytileneans present in Athens forced a second debate after the assembly voted to sentence the male population of the city to death.165 Unfortunately, inscribed Athenian decrees before c.353 bc do not include patronyms or demotics when identifying proposers, so prosopographical analysis is difficult; the late fourth-­century evidence, both epigraphic and oratorical, however, provides more explicit testimony for individuals proposing decrees to further their own interests, or those of their friends.166 Individual influence on negotiations may also have been exercised more informally. Thucydides gives us a prime example, albeit for non-­imperial diplomatic activity, with his description of Alkibiades’ meddling in the Athenian negotiation of treaties with the Argives and Spartans in 420 bc.167 We hear that Alkibiades, as a private citizen, keen to ruin a potential treaty between Sparta and Athens, independently suggested that Argos send envoys to Athens,168 and tricked the Spartan envoys (presumably in an informal meeting; we know from elsewhere in Thucydides that he had ties of xenia with one of them),169 so that they did not tell the assembly that they had been given full powers to negotiate.170 On the part of allied communities, it seems likely that individuals with private resources and personal connections to Athens would also have dominated such positions, although the Athenian bias of the evidence mostly obscures their identities. Occasionally, however, prominent individuals from allied communities who engaged in diplomatic activity with the Athenians do surface in the literary record. A pertinent Thucydidean example is provided by the Abderite Nymphodoros: During the same summer (431 bc) Nymphodoros, son of Pythes, an Abderite, whose sister Sitalkes had married, was made their proxenos by the Athenians and sent for to Athens. They had hitherto considered him their enemy; but he had great influence with Sitalkes, and they wished this prince to become their ally. Sitalkes was the son of Teres and king of the Thracians.171

Given that Sitalkes ruled over a territory with astronomical levels of wealth,172 we can assume that Nymphodoros’ family was not only connected with supra-polis elites, but also in possession of considerable wealth of its own. Another case is

165  Thuc. 3.36. 166  Liddel (2020b) chapter 2. 167  For the full narrative, see Thuc. 5.41–50; Mitchell (1997) 51–5 provides a broader analysis of the episode. 168  Thuc. 5.43. 169  Thuc. 8.6.3. 170  Thuc. 5.45. 171  Thuc. 2.29.1. 172  Thuc. 2.97.

60  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc once again provided by Thucydides’ Mytilenean ambassadors, who are said to have contacts at Athens.173 We can also find traces of prominent allied individuals if we return to the Athenian epigraphic record. Occasionally, as mentioned above, individuals emerge in decrees concerning their communities. Returning to the decree for Selymbria, for instance, we saw how two individuals are named as Athenian proxenoi.174 The latter, Apollodoros, is granted this honour ‘like his father’ (κα-|[θάπερ τ͂οι] π̣ατρὶ αὐτ͂ο), so evidently had established familial connections with the Athenians. The decree for Samos dating to around 412/1 bc also praises an individual.175 Individuals’ relations with the Athenians, moreover, come to light in the considerable number of decrees dating to the fifth century honouring particular foreigners, both from within and beyond the empire. Although many of them are fragmentary, and their contents for the most part frustratingly generic, we can see how the Athenians valued and rewarded relationships with foreign individuals, probably before they began to inscribe decrees bestowing related honours on communities. Many of the individuals honoured by the Athenians are awarded the status of proxenia;176 although the primary implication of this award is that the honorand would have carried out services for Athens in their home com­mu­ nity, there are also examples, like Apollodoros, of foreign proxenoi present in Athens and performing political functions there. Another example is Thucydides of Pharsalos, who, Thucydides reports, prevented factional violence at Athens during the oligarchic coup of 411.177 As I will discuss in the next chapter, individuals from both Athens and allied communities also held positions of influence within the tribute system. The overall impression is that the Athenians made significant use of a mobile and connected network of—­sometimes wealthy and elite—­individuals. Such an elite world is familiar from sources on the archaic period. Herodotus, for instance, provides many anecdotes about how contacts between elites in different poleis, realized through xenia or marriage or athletic competition, impacted on their political relationships.178 Contributions by John Davies and Lisa Kallet, more­ over, have illuminated how the origins of Athenian power in the Aegean in the latter half of the sixth century were laid down by individual Athenian aristocrats, including the Peisistratid tyrants.179 Sometimes their inter-­elite connections come 173  Thuc. 3.36.5. 174  IG I3 118 = OR 185 lines 42–7. 175  IG I3 96 line 16. 176  Walbank’s 1978 study lists ninety-­four examples of Athenian proxenies from the fifth century; Mack’s more up-­ to-­ date online tool gives a more conservative sixty-­ five (http://proxenies.csad. ox.ac.uk). 177  Thuc. 8.92.8. 178 For example, Kleisthenes of Sikyon’s contest for his daughter’s hand, one of my favourite Herodotean anecdotes (Hdt. 6.127–9). 179  Davies (2013); Kallet (2013). See Hdt. 1.62–4 for Peisistratos’ exile in Eretria and successful establishment of tyranny in Athens with foreign support, and control of Naxos and Delos; 5.65 for the Peisistratids’ withdrawal from Athens to Sigeion in the Troad; 6.34–41 for the tyrannies of Miltiades

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  61 to light in the sources, such as those between Peistratros and Lygdamis, the tyrant whom he placed in charge of Naxos; or the marriage of Miltiades the Younger to the daughter of Oloros of Thrace.180 This network, I argue, was still in operation, and utilized by the Athenian empire in the fifth century. However, it is important to note that non-­elite individuals may also have played a role, not least because we cannot discount the power of the Athenian democracy.

1.4.1  Elites, Democracy, and Negotiation This elite network did not necessarily exist in opposition to the functioning of the Athenian democracy. The Athenians, in the operation of their empire, were generally happy to make use of pre-­existing circumstances where possible, whether (as I have just argued) diplomatic parameters for their negotiations with allies or (as I will show in subsequent chapters) strategies of fiscal exploitation. Elite individuals’ use of personal wealth and connections for the good of the polis would have bypassed some of the logistical issues of a democratic city running a complex, geographically dispersed empire; we might compare the Roman Republic, and Badian’s emphasis on the importance of elite Romans’ foreign clients in managing the provinces.181 The Athenian democratic system would have made sustained diplomacy and strategy difficult, especially in an empire with many different cities, separated by days of travel. The use of the elite network was therefore a potentially resource-­light mode of imperial diplomacy. Personal relationships with Athenians on the part of allied representatives might also go some way in explaining why allied representatives were willing to engage in the negotiation process at all, especially when punitive terms were being imposed on their communities. Moreover, specialist expertise and knowledge would have been necessary. The demos, and even the boule with its regular rotations, would not have been capable of making informed decisions about each individual allied polis. The inscribed decrees, with all their detail about far-­flung communities, perhaps give an optimistic impression about the knowledge of the average Athenian citizen when it came to the empire.182 Thucydides, albeit perhaps misleadingly, is clear that the

the Elder and Miltiades the Younger in the Thracian Chersonese; 6.140 for Miltiades the Younger’s capture of Lemnos; [Arist.] Ath. Pol. 15.2 for Peisistratos’ foundation of Rhaikelos on the Thermaic Gulf in northern Greece (Hdt. 1.64.1 refers to Peisistratos’ use of revenues from this resource-­rich region). 180  Hdt. 1.64.2; 6.39.2. 181  Badian (1958). 182  See Lazar (Forthcoming b) for the argument that Old Comedy implies general ignorance about the empire on the part of many Athenian citizens.

62  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc ignorant Athenians were easily led by more knowledgeable but unethical politicians.183 This role of elite experts did not preclude the importance of the Athenian demos in the negotiating process. The Athenian democracy also had to be taken into account by the allied representatives in directing their negotiations. They may have had to address the council and possibly the assembly directly, so rhet­ oric would have played an important role: Thucydides dramatizes such a speech, that of the Corcyraeans, made to the Athenian assembly in 433 bc.184 To return to my much-­used example, the Mytileneans present in Athens in 427 bc could only use their Athenian connections to force a second vote; they then had to rely on the oratory of their Athenian supporters (represented in Thucydides by the otherwise unknown Diodotos). The first decree for Methone, moreover, begins with two options regarding Methonean tribute payment being presented to the demos,185 with the result of the vote being reported at the end of the document.186 This presentation of two options is a rare insight into the underlying democratic process, as Robin Osborne notes;187 but it also shows how a solution for the issue of the Methonean tribute was not found in the preceding negotiations, with the final decision instead being left to the demos. There was, however, a tension: what if these individuals, on either the allied or the Athenian side, did not act in Athenian popular interests? Personal ne­go­ti­ ations did not always align with political negotiations, and the existence of personal relationships and interests might encourage the use of underhand strategies, or the pursuit of individual advantage. Allied ambassadors might act deceptively, as in Aristophanes’ Babylonians. Athenians might leverage their position vis-­à-­vis the empire for personal financial gain (more on this in Chapter 2). Alkibiades is perhaps the ultimate example: his greed, elite status, and unorthodox methods, Thucydides tells us, caused significant issues in the democratic system, resulting in his exile;188 but ultimately the Athenians needed him, and allowed him to return.189 This is where the deployment of honours potentially became useful for the Athenians, for controlling the allied parts of the network, and perhaps for  the Athenian side:190 honours could make the elite network work for the 183  A key example is provided by the debate at the beginning of Book 6 (6.8–26) regarding the sending of a fleet to Sicily: sensible Nikias is unable to assert control over the demos, while the unscrupulous but charismatic Alkibiades wins out. Thucydides repeatedly emphasizes the ignorance of the demos (see 6.1). 184  Thuc. 1.31–6. As Sophie Minon pointed out to me, linguistic negotiation may also have been required, as allied representatives such as those from Corcyra may not have spoken Attic Greek. Crespo (2014) notes that even in the Peloponnese in the fourth century bc, Attic began to be used in international communication and in communication with Athens; the fifth-­century empire presumably initiated this move towards Attic in imperial diplomacy. 185  IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 5–9. 186  Lines 29–32. 187  Osborne (1999b) 344–5. 188  Thuc. 6.61. 189 Xen. Hell. 1.4.13. 190  Note that Plutarch (Alc. 33) describes the award of significant honours to Alkibiades on his return to Athens; see Domingo Gygax (2006).

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  63 community. The use of honorific institutions could convert ties, possibly o ­ riginating in ­personal, informal relationships, into formalized relationships with the Athenian demos.191 Some of the Athenian decrees honouring individuals potentially date as early as the middle of the century, so this was not a new strategy for the Athenians in the final decade. But, as we have seen, honours also began to be used at the level of community relations around this time. In our handful of examples of decrees concerning communities with prominent honorific elements, it is notable that individuals are also singled out for honours, such as the aforementioned Apollodoros of Selymbria.192 In the rider to the decree of 405/4 for Samos, the envoy Eumachos and his fellow representatives are explicitly honoured, while in the subsequent decree of 403/2 inscribed on the same stone a certain Poses is awarded a crown.193 Thus the increased use of honorific institutions on the part of the Athenians not only circumscribed the community-­level negotiations, but also the role of individual negotiators. We must also not neglect the possible significance of democracy in the allied community involved in a negotiation, both ideologically and practically. The Athenian use of the elite network meant that imperial diplomacy need not be conducted only with democracies: the Athenians maintained relations with Greek oligarchs and even non-­Greek dynasts within the empire.194 The same elite networks could also extend beyond the limits of Athenian power, to non-­Greek peoples with different political structures, as the example of the Abderite ­ Nymphodoros’ activity in Thrace shows (more on this in Chapters 4 and 5). However, a significant proportion of allied communities would have had demo­crat­ic constitutions, at least for parts of the fifth century.195 While we have limited evidence for the direct imposition of democracy in the empire on the part of the Athenians,196 ancient writers (Thucydides foremost among them) are un­equivo­cal that there was an identification between democracy and Athens on the one hand, oligarchy and Sparta on the other.197 Moreover, there is varied documentary evidence from the end of the fifth century onwards, and more so in

191  For the conversion of private relationships into public ones through the award of proxeny, see Mack (2015) 103. 192  IG I3 118 = OR 185 line 37. 193  IG I3 127 = OR 191 = AIO 796 lines 35–8 (Eumachos); IG II2 1 = RO 2 = AIO 796 lines 58–62 (Poses) (IG and OR/RO divide the decrees across different volumes; AIO provides a combined text). 194  For Athenian toleration of oligarchs, consider Robinson’s overview of Milesian constitutional history: Robinson (2011) 176–8. Karian dynasts appear in the tribute quota lists, for example IG I3 284 lines 7–8. 195  Robinson (2011) chapter 4 provides a useful statistical overview. 196  The decree for Erythrai (IG I314 = OR 121 = AIO 296), as I mentioned above, is one of the few clear-­cut cases; see Brock (2009). 197  Most clearly in his description of stasis (Thuc. 3.82); see also [Xen.] Ath. Pol. 1.14; 1.16; 3.10–11; [Arist.] Ath. Pol. 24.2; Arist. Pol. 1307b22–4; Lys. 2.56. For a classic treatment of these passages, with a Marxist bent, see De Ste. Croix (1954).

64  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc the fourth, for the spread of ‘Athenian-­style’ democratic institutions, producing ‘Athenian-­style’ inscribed decrees (although Athenian epigraphic influence was not aligned exactly with Athenian political influence).198 It must be noted, however, that Thucydides often talks about the leaders of the demos, rather than the demos itself, having a relationship with the Athenians: so Peithias of Corcyra, the Athenian proxenos mentioned above, ‘was leader of the demos’ (τοῦ δήμου προειστήκει),199 while in Thucydides’ famous description of stasis, it is ‘the popular leaders attempting to bring in the Athenians’ (τοῖς τε τῶν δήμων προστάταις τοὺς Ἀθηναίους ἐπάγεσθαι).200 Democracy, it seems, provided a way for the Athenians to create ideological identification not just with the more general populations of allied communities, but also with certain of their elites. As Robinson points out, it was the elites, after all, who were likely to come to Athens, be exposed to Athenian political institutions, and then make political changes back home;201 we should thus think of the influence of Athenian democracy on the institutions of allied communities being exerted, at least in part, through mobile elites, in individualized circumstances.202 Indeed, Thucydides’ Perikles talks about the Athenian constitution being a ‘model’ (παράδειγμα) to other ­cities.203 Athenian democracy, moreover, was a multivalent cultural package, not just a political institution; its religious, spectacular, and honorific aspects would also have played a part in determining allied, particularly elite allied, responses to Athens. Τhe ideological allegiances of these elites, created by their participation in different aspects of Athenian culture, may have determined how they interacted with Athenian individuals (I will explore this more fully in Chapter 3); in this way, democratic ideology would have supported the functioning of the interpolis elite network for the Athenians. That said, as was the case in Athens, the role of the elite representatives in negotiations would not have precluded the potential importance of an allied com­ mu­nity’s demos, a state of affairs which both the Athenians and others seem to have recognized. Tellingly, Thucydides notes that the Melian oligarchs in 416 did not let the Athenian ambassadors speak in front of the Melian populace.204 Clearly, the Athenians wanted to bypass the unfriendly elite representatives, and exert persuasive power on the people; but the Melian leaders, recognizing the tactic, blocked it. In the conclusion to this monograph, moreover, I will discuss the role of the allied assemblies in Athenian negotiations with the island of Keos in the fourth century, a later case where we actually have the allied decrees concerning Athenian intervention preserved. Democracy, then, in practice and ideology, 198  Lazar (Forthcoming a). For decrees from allied communities, see Chapter 3.3.1; Chapter 4.3.4; Chapter 5.2; Conclusion. 199  Thuc. 3.70.3. 200  Thuc. 3.82.1. 201  Robinson (2011) 210. 202  Some communities may also have developed independent constitutions with democratic elements: Ejsmond-­Frey (2019). 203  Thuc. 2.37.1. 204  Thuc. 5.84.3.

Athenian Decrees, Negotiation, and Negotiators  65 both at Athens and in the allied communities, had a complex interplay with the individual negotiators and the community-­level negotiations.

1.5 Conclusion In this first chapter, I have argued that relationships between the Athenians and allied communities were bilateral and made use of negotiation. The epigraphic record shows that the Athenians employed various diplomatic structures to control the parameters of these negotiations: the treaty and oath exchange provided a way to integrate or reintegrate communities into the alliance, while the use of honorific institutions began to create defined parameters for the negotiation of privileges by the final years of the century. Negotiation allowed allied communities to exercise agency and to achieve concessions or privileges; and the Athenians, perhaps increasingly, saw the benefit of formally providing for such dialogue, which might channel allied energies into negotiation rather than dissent. In the second half of the chapter, I zoomed in on the individuals from both sides who actually did the negotiating; I suggested that a network of elite individuals, with wealth, experience of mobility, and personal connections, supported the operation of this imperial negotiation. The Athenians’ use of this network was not in opposition to the functioning of their democracy, which still maintained importance in the negotiation process; but tensions could also potentially arise. Honours then potentially provided a useful way for the Athenians to convert personal ties into public relationships. The context of Babylonians has perhaps now come into clearer focus. Negotiation between Athens and allied communities was an expected part of Athenian power for the Athenian audience, a useful strategy, necessarily supported by elite individuals’ personal relationships. But it was not unproblematic: representatives of communities such as Methone, unfettered by formalized parameters of negotiation, could lobby the Athenians for enormous concessions, like exemption from tribute (as they did shortly before the performance of Babylonians), and their personal ties or underhand tactics might negatively impact on the process. Athenian individuals might not act in the best interests of the demos. Babylonians, I suggest, reflects an unease around negotiation with allies, perhaps at the precise moment when clearer parameters for the negotiation process begin to become evident in the epigraphic record. And when it comes to negotiations within the fiscal system in particular, we have plenty more evidence from the same historic moment that attests to this same tension.

2

Negotiation, Flexibility, and Corruption in the Athenian Tribute System The Athenians having thus succeeded to the supremacy by the ­voluntary act of the allies through their hatred of Pausanias, fixed which cities were to contribute money against the barbarian, which ships; their professed object being to retaliate for their sufferings by rav­aging the king’s country. Now was the time that the office of the Hellenotamiai was first instituted by the Athenians. These officers received the tribute, as the money contributed was called. The tribute was first fixed at four hundred and sixty talents. The common treasury was at Delos, and the congresses were held in the temple. Initially, the Athenians commanded autonomous allies and made their decisions in general congresses.1 Thucydides, Pentekontaetia

2.1 Introduction Tribute, or phoros, the annual monetary contribution paid to Athens by each allied community, is the very first aspect of Athenian power emphasized in Thucydides’ description of its origins in the aftermath of the Graeco-­Persian Wars in 478 bc. For Thucydides, this form of fiscal exploitation was one of the key ways in which the Athenian presence was felt in allied communities throughout the fifth century, before its final decade. Indeed, as he makes clear in his potted history of naval empire, his Archaeology, finance was intrinsic to sea power.2 As Thucydides describes, tribute payments originated as contributions made by autonomous allies to a treasury located in Delos, when the Athenians took over the leadership of the Greek alliance formed against the Persians. From at least 454 bc onwards, however, the tribute was paid into a treasury in Athens.3 As I described at the beginning of this book, the Athenians then took one-­sixtieth of each allied community’s payment and dedicated it to their goddess Athena, a portion known as the aparchai or first-fruits. 1  Thuc. 1.96.1–97.1. 2  Thuc. 1.2–20. 3  The first tribute quota list (IG I3 259) was inscribed in 454/3 bc. See OR 199 A for an extract. Plut. Per. 12.2 refers to the treasury being moved. Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc. Leah Lazar, Oxford University Press. © Leah Lazar 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198896265.003.0003

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  67 In modern scholarship, tribute is often portrayed as developing from its voluntary origins into an oppressive obligation demanded by the Athenians. Russell Meiggs, for one, singles out tribute as an indication of an increasingly strict Athenian ‘imperialism’: Athens made no attempt at compromise. The League would not be allowed to dissolve, the allies would continue to pay yearly tribute.4

Indeed, there is plentiful evidence in the ancient sources for this position, not least Thucydides: Of all the causes of defection, that connected with arrears of tribute and vessels, and with failure of service, was the chief; for the Athenians were very severe and exacting . . .5

Tellingly, tribute was one of the features of fifth-­century Athenian power from which the Athenians explicitly took care to distance themselves in the fourth century when reasserting their dominance in the Aegean. The 378/7 bc decree inviting states to join in the Second Confederacy prohibits the future imposition of phoros;6 the league would instead go on to impose another form of payment with a different name, syntaxis.7 But the reality of tribute was more complex than this interpretation implies. The fiscal systems of state, hegemonic, and imperial powers throughout history have often allowed for, or even encouraged, negotiation, sometimes as a product of a hands-­off, resource-­light approach to surplus extraction, that tolerated varied statuses, sometimes as a deliberate channelling of subjects’ energies into petition rather than default or revolt.8 In the past, there has only been limited ac­know­ ledge­ment that such processes may have played a part in the assessment and payment of Athenian tribute, with focus on a possible mechanism of legal appeal.9 Thucydides’ account shows that the tribute system at the time of its inception was a novel, experimental phenomenon in a Greek context (although not, as I will explore elsewhere, in an Achaemenid one). He even feels the need to gloss the term.10 Moreover, given the autonomy of the allies and the variety of forms of payment (money and ships), the system inherently entailed flexibility and vari­ able statuses. In this chapter, I will explore whether this flexibility continued to shape the tribute system in its later history. I will argue that tribute saw constant development 4  Meiggs (1972) 152. 5  Thuc. 1.99.1. 6  IG II2 43 = RO 22 line 23. 7  Attested both epigraphically (for example in the decree concerning Andros dating to 357/6 bc, IG II2 123 = RO 52 line 11) and in the orators (see, for instance, Isocr. 8. 36). 8  See Bang (2015). 9  For example, ATL 3 79; Meiggs (1972) 240–1. 10  See Whitehead (1998) 178.

68  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc and adjustment, in response to changing fiscal pressures and demands. The system was not experienced uniformly by all allies but was always composed of numerous bilateral interactions, with opportunities for the assertion of allied agency, ­differentiated status, and negotiation. As the century progressed, however, the Athenians increasingly controlled the possibility of negotiation and variability in assessment, before scrapping tribute altogether in favour of a much less flexible universal harbour tax. Simultaneously, in response to significant concern around the perceived illicit activity of individuals, the Athenians limited the role of private Athenian and allied agents in the assessment and collection of tribute. The defining threads of my first chapter—­community-­level negotiation, its increased demarcation, and the role of elite individuals—­will therefore once again shape my argument here. I will focus my analysis on three different snapshots in the later history of the tribute system: the evidence for variable statuses and allied volunteerism in the 430s and into the 420s; the introduction of a defined legal context for negotiation over assessment, during a time of fiscal crisis and heightened anxiety around individual corruption in the 420s; and, finally, the abolition of tribute in favour of a 5 per cent harbour tax in 413 bc. Athens has provided an unrivalled source for analysis of its tribute system: the inscribed lists, dating from 454/3 bc onwards, of the quota taken from each community’s contribution and dedicated to Athena. These magisterial inscriptions will provide the backbone of my argument.

2.1.1  Tribute and Taxation First of all, I think a brief word on tribute in particular, and Athenian fiscal exploitation more broadly, will be helpful. In line with my other choices of vo­cabu­lary, I retain the orthodox use of the English term ‘tribute’ for ease and accessibility, but it is perhaps not the best translation of the Greek phoros. ‘Tribute’ is sometimes associated with military pillage,11 or understood as irregular extraction, in contrast with more regular taxation.12 Neither was true in the case of Athenian phoros, which was an organized, regular contribution within a complex system; this system, moreover, had a close relationship with other forms of taxation. Indeed, Athenian tribute appears to have relied on the varied fiscal structures of allied communities, although the exact mechanics of assessment and collection are obscure. Land and agricultural yield were taken into account in assessment, as we will see below in section 2.3; but, as Lucia Nixon and Simon Price argue in an important chapter, other resources and internal taxation arrangements must also 11  See Khazanov (1994) 224 for this definition of tribute in the context of nomadic groups. 12  Claessen (1989) 55.

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  69 have been considered.13 For example, Byzantion’s enormous assessment of over 22 talents must have come in part from taxes on mobility imposed in Byzantine harbours;14 there is no other way to understand its economic potential. Moreover, tribute was not the only form of Athenian fiscal exploitation.15 The Athenians implemented some taxes directly;16 and, as I will discuss, they eventually replaced tribute with a universal harbour tax. Sometimes they extracted contributions from communities, both in and out of the alliance, on a more ad hoc basis.17 They also wielded economic power in many other ways, from the confiscation of mines,18 to the control of the loans made by the treasury of Apollo on Delos,19 to the blockading of a community’s harbours,20 to the selling of a community’s female and juvenile population into slavery.21 Indeed, we should never forget the human cost of Athenian imperial exploitation. But it is the dependence of tribute on varied lower-­level fiscal structures which, for the purposes of this chapter, results in the crucial difference between tribute and taxation. The scope for considerable variation in tribute assessment meant that it was inherently more open to negotiation than a tax based on a percentage extraction of a particular resource.

2.1.2 Sources We are lucky to have extensive sources attesting to the workings of the Athenian tribute system. In this chapter, I will make use of inscribed Athenian decrees, the astute financial understanding of Thucydides,22 and the plays of Aristophanes, in which Athenian fiscal measures are a common source of humour. Most im­port­ ant­ly, however, the backbone of my analysis will rely on the inscriptions col­lect­ ive­ly referred to in scholarship as the ‘tribute lists’. At least three kinds of records were presumably made (on less permanent materials than stone) in the process of the assessment of tribute, its collection, and the dedication of the first fruits or aparchai to Athena.23 First, lists of assessment

13  Nixon and Price (1990). 14  IG I3 281.3 line 49 (first half of 420s) for this tribute contribution; Nixon and Price (1990) 153. 15  A common state of affairs in ancient empires: Bang (2015) 541–2 notes that tribute usually existed alongside taxation. 16  Fawcett (2016) provides a useful overview of classical Athenian taxes; see also Chapter 6.3. 17  IG I3 291 for the extraction of revenues from Magna Graecia; Thuc. 2.69.1, 3.19.1, 4.50.1, 4.75.1 for ships sent out to collect money, which Kallet-­Marx (1993) 160–4 disassociates from tribute. 18  As in the case of Thasos’s mainland mine: Thuc. 1.101.3. 19  Extensively explored by Bonnin (2015); see Bonnin (2019) for a summary in English. 20  Famously, in the case of Megara: Thuc. 1.139; Ar. Ach. 497–556; Ar. Pax. 603–28; Plut. Per. 29–33. 21  As in the case of Melos: Thuc. 5.116.4. 22  Kallet-­Marx (1993) and Kallet (2001) show the extent of Thucydides’ financial interest. 23  See Sickinger (1999) 66–7; Cuomo (2013) for the numerical skills that underlay the creation of such Athenian account documents.

70  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc levels must have been written. Indeed, several assessments inscribed on stone survive in fragmentary condition. The most complete of these is the decree proposed by Thoudippos dated to 425/4, which laid down collection procedures and listed new assessment levels.24 Secondly, the Hellenotamiai, the magistrates in charge of tribute collection, must have made records of the incoming payments. We know that the Athenians made lists of this kind in the case of more ad hoc extractions: we have the fragmentary remains, for example, of a list of contributions from allied communities in Magna Graecia, usually dated to the beginning of the Sicilian Expedition in 415 (although an alternative date of 427–424, and the so-­called ‘First Sicilian Expedition’, has been suggested).25 Given that no fragments of any such documents concerning tribute survive, it is likely that these records were never inscribed on stone. The records of the one-­sixtieth portions of the incoming tribute dedicated to Athena, the third kind of document, have survived in a fragmentary state. As detailed in the introduction, from 454/3, the Athenians inscribed annual lists of the aparchai contributed by each ally on monumental stelai, displayed on the Acropolis (see again Figures 0.1 and 0.2). Each list began with a prescript, giving the name of the secretary of the board of the Hellenotamiai from that year and the list number counting from 454/3 bc onwards. There are hundreds of entries in over thirty lists, showing more than two hundred and fifty polis ethnics, regional ethnics, and toponyms. It is important to note that the aparche dedications may not have coincided exactly with the tribute contributions, as the process by which the Hellenotamiai passed them on to the logistai (the officials in charge of Athena’s treasury) is obscure, but they are nonetheless the best evidence we have for the levels of tribute that were paid. The first fifteen years of lists were inscribed on the enormous stele known to modern scholars as the lapis primus.26 The next eight years of lists were inscribed on another stele, known as the lapis secundus.27 After the surface of the lapis secundus was filled, individual annual lists were inscribed on individual stelai of smaller sizes.28 The prescripts are either lost or fragmentary, so these lists are difficult to date. The first two lists on individual stelai will be considered in this chapter.29 Both are fragmentary, but one of the stones is in a particularly poor condition, as the surface is much abraded.30 The orders and dates provided for these lists in the corpus, originating in the interpretations of the ATL editors, 24  IG I3 71 = OR 153 = AIO 959; revised (with a new fragment added) by Matthaiou (2009) 18–68. See also IG I3 77 and perhaps IG I3 100 (discussed more in Chapter 6.2.4). 25  IG I3 291. Hornblower (2008) 458–61 provides discussion, including a summary of the issues with dating. 26  IG I3 259–72 (454/3–440/39 bc). 27  IG I3 273–80 (439/8–432/1 bc). 28  IG I3 281–90. 29  IG I3 281; 282. 30  IG I3 282. This stele is the subject of a study by Bradeen and McGregor (1973). I look forward to the publication of a new edition of this stone by Helmut Lotz.

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  71 must be considered doubtful. I will bracket the list numbers to show this: List (25), for example. With these lists—­and with all others—­I will consider the ATL restorations, carried over into the Inscriptiones Graecae editions, on a case by case basis before choosing whether to take them into account. Bjorn Paarman’s doctoral thesis, helpfully, has provided new editions of the lists.31 With this caution in mind, I can turn to my first historical snapshot.

2.2  Snapshot 1: Varied Statuses and Allied Volunteerism From 440 to the early 420s, certain allied communities and their aparche contributions are inscribed on the tribute quota lists under headings or special cat­egor­ies, known as rubrics, which explicitly testify to varied circumstances of assessment or payment. In my first snapshot of the later history of the tribute system, I will focus on some of these rubrics, dated to the 430s and early 420s, which refer to special statuses of assessment. Bear with me as I discuss the epigraphic evidence in some necessary detail. In List 20, dated to 435/4, three allied communities from Thrace are designated as unassessed or ataktoi.32 Then, in the following year, 434/3, in List 21, there are two headings with lists of allies beneath them: πόλες αὐταὶ φόρον ταχσάμεναι (referred to henceforth as the autai rubric) and πόλες ℎὰς ℎ[οι] ἰδῖοται ἐνέ[γ]ραφσαν φόρον φέρεν (referred to as the idiotai rubric).33 The allies previously marked as ataktoi have moved to these two categories (although there is also one new community marked as ataktos),34 and are listed alongside different communities from Thrace, but also from other regions. The majority of these communities have never appeared in the lists before. These categories continue in the two subsequent years, in Lists 22 and 23.35 A number of new rubrics are then visible in Lists (25) and (26), dated to the first half of the 420s.36 For my purposes, we should note the heading ‘those cities which the taktai assessed when Kr? was secretary’ (referred to henceforth as the taktai rubric), which is inscribed over some allies previously listed in the autai rubric in List (25);37 it seems to be a continuation of this previous rubric. Unfortunately, no community names survive on the stone beneath it. In List (26), 31  Paarman (2007). 32  IG I3 277.5 line 31; 6 lines 23–4, 31. 33  IG I3 278.6 lines 5–17 (autai); IG I3 278.6 lines 18–35 (idiotai). Note that an extract of List 21, with these rubrics, is provided by OR 119 C. 34  IG I3 278.6 lines 6–7. 35  Autai: IG I3 279.2 lines 74–88; IG I3 280.2 lines 68–75. Idiotai: IG I3 279.2 lines 89–99; IG I3 280.2 lines 76–82. 36  Note that the ATL editors place no fragments in what would be List 24, dated to 431/0; as stated above, I am aware that there are many issues with the ATL dating and restorations, including the cre­ ation of this lacuna. Kallet (2004) discusses such lacunae in later lists. 37  IG I3 281.3 lines 54–8: ταῖσδ[ε ἔτ]αχσαν ℎοι τάκται | ἐπὶ Κρ[․․․]ο γραμματεύοντος.

72  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc the names of communities previously in the idiotai rubric are visible beneath a highly fragmentary heading.38 There has been extensive discussion of these rubrics in previous scholarship.39 The interpretation set out in the Athenian Tribute Lists has been most influential, not least because it is reflected in the editors’ restoration and ordering of these lists, then used in Inscriptiones Graecae.40 I will not pick apart all their in­ter­pret­ ation and consequent restorations here;41 and I will note that Paarman’s editions are much more restrained in their restorations.42 For my purposes, I will flag that the ATL editors identify the ataktoi poleis as certain allies who were unassessed, but paid tribute after an assessment had taken place, perhaps due to the presence of an Athenian force in the region.43 They then translate the autai rubric, πόλες αὐταὶ φόρον ταχσάμεναι, as ‘cities which accepted assessment by special arrangement’.44 They identify such special arrangements as being for communities previously unassessed, in isolated and peripheral positions, or separated from larger poleis by apotaxis; following other scholars, they take over an ancient term used by Antiphon and defined by the lexicographer Harpokration, meaning sep­ar­ate assessment of groups of communities previously assessed together.45 They identify the idiotai as Athenian individuals who registered allied communities with the tribute assessors.46 There are a number of issues with this interpretation. Their understanding of the ataktoi cities is perhaps too specific in its detail, although their translation is evidently correct. But in the case of the autai rubric, their translation does not convey the meaning of the Greek, capturing the sense of neither the pronoun (αὐταί) nor the middle participle (ταχσάμεναι). As a number of scholars have pointed out, the obvious translation of this heading is something like ‘poleis which assessed themselves’.47 The rubric implies a level of volunteering, of allied agency. The interpretation of the idiotai rubric should likewise convey this sense of allied initiative. It seems highly unlikely that these private individuals could be Athenians, registering far-­flung and mostly small allies for assessment. These 38  IG I3 282.2 lines 43–9. 39  See Couch (1929); Nesselhauf (1933) 58; Schaefer (1939) 240–3; ATL 1 449–57; Gomme (1940); ATL 3 80–8; Lepper (1962); Meiggs (1972) 250–1; Schuller (1981); Mattingly (1996) 287–303; Samons (2000) 195–7; Jensen (2010) 29–45; Osborne and Rhodes (2017) 106–7; Jensen (2019). 40  ATL 3 80–8, developing from ATL 1 449–57. 41  Note that List (25) contains a heading referring to assessment by the council and a court of 1500 jurors: ταῖσδε ℎ[ε] βολὲ καὶ ℎοι πεντακόσιοι | καὶ χίλ[ιοι ἔτ]αχσαν, ‘those poleis which the boule and the 1500 assessed’ (IG I3 281.3 61–2), which the ATL editors associate with the autai and idiotai rubrics. I argue that it shows a different context of negotiation and I will analyse it in the next section of the chapter. 42  Paarman (2007) 61–6. 43  ATL 3 84. 44  Antiph. fr. 56 (Thalheim). ATL 3 85; here the editors build on the argument of Couch (1929). 45  ATL 3 84. 46  ATL 3 81. 47  Lepper (1962), reviving the argument of Nesselhauf (1933) 58, has been one of the primary proponents of this view. See also Osborne and Rhodes (2017) 106.

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  73 idiotai must be individuals from allied communities, acting in some way for themselves rather than on behalf of the entire community.48 Several con­sid­er­ ations support this interpretation. As Schuller observes, the use of the definite article implies that the individuals were a defined group who were known to the writers of the lists, but if they were Athenian, they might have been named.49 Further, with two exceptions, the communities in this rubric are not listed with the nom­ina­tive plural of the ethnic, as would be usual, but by toponym (i.e. Σύμε rather than Συμαῖοι).50 Although toponyms are used elsewhere in the lists, they are not the norm, and their use here might imply that the individuals in question came from these allied communities, but did not entirely represent them. There are other instances of the term idiotai being used in Athenian documents to refer to citizens of allied communities.51 This heading should therefore be translated as ‘poleis which individuals (from allied communities) registered for tribute payment’. We have then several rubrics, ataktoi, autai, and idiotai (as well as some associated fragmentary rubrics), showing different kinds of assessment, and, judging by the headings themselves, the assertion of agency on the part of both allied communities and individuals. But the question remains what statuses the rubrics actually denote.

2.2.1  The Eteokarpathians of Karpathos The example of one community in the autai rubric, the Eteokarpathians of Karpathos (whom I briefly mentioned in Chapter  1), can point us in the right direction. John Ma has examined the Athenian award of autonomy to the Eteokarpathians, as recorded in an Athenian decree found on the island.52 In a masterful consideration of the local context, Ma argues that the Eteokarpathians were a new polis constructed by the Athenians to foster local segmentation (previously only the three poleis of Karpathos, Arkasseia, Karpathos, and Brykous, had paid tribute).53 According to Ma, the special status of autonomy was awarded to this new community of the Eteokarpathians after negotiation with the Athenians, as recorded in the decree. Following Anderson and Dix, Ma then links the presence of the Eteokarpathians in the autai rubric to their autonomous status, arguing that the Eteokarpathians were not obliged to make tribute payments but chose to contribute nonetheless.54 48  Nesselhauf (1933) 59; Lepper (1962) 38. 49  Schuller (1981) 144. 50  Noted by Schuller (1981) 145. 51  For example, in the Chalkis decree (IG I3 40 = OR 131 lines 6, 11) and the Selymbria decree (IG I3 118 = OR 185 lines 23–4). 52  Ma (2009); IG I3 1454 = OR 136 = AIO 954. 53  Ma (2009) 133. 54  Anderson and Dix (2004) 13; Ma (2009) 130; IG I3 281.6 line 14; IG I3 282.2 lines 81–2.

74  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Despite Ma’s assertion, it is not clear whether the status of autonomy generally entailed exemption from tribute. Autonomy was a usefully ambiguous concept.55 At the inception of tribute, as described by Thucydides, all contributing allies were autonomous;56 while in the terms of the Peace of Nikias in 421, six ­communities in the North Aegean were designated as autonomous but still as tribute-­contributors.57 Nonetheless, even if we do not argue for direct causation between the autonomy of the Eteokarpathians and their presence in the autai rubric, we know from the decree that the Eteokarpathians engaged in an individualized process of ne­go­ ti­ation with the Athenians. Both their special tribute status and their autonomy can thus be placed in this same local context. Consequently, it should not be extrapolated from the example of the Eteokarpathians that any other community in the autai rubric held autonomous status. In fact, we should assume that other communities came to be in the rubric through similarly individualized circumstances. The Eteokarpathians asserted agency in a way that was unique to their community, framed by, in Ma’s words, ‘a largely irrecoverable local history’.58 Perhaps, we should not consider the autai rubric as indicating a standardized type of negotiation process, leading to a particular tribute assessment status, but a category encompassing a variety of different statuses, fixed by the Athenians with individual communities.

2.2.2  Regional Dynamics The survival of the decree for the Eteokarpathians provides an unusual parallel with the record of the tribute quota lists. As I have emphasized, surviving evidence simply does not allow for the status of every allied community to be reconstructed in the same way. However, when we consider the locations of allies in the ataktoi, autai, and idiotai rubrics, we can track geographical patterns, manifest on different scales. It seems that the Athenians were interacting with individual allies, but on a regional basis. While the circumstances of the Eteokarpathians are specific to the island of Karpathos, they can also be placed in the context of a broader regional phenomenon (see Maps 5 and 6). The Eteokarpathians appear in the autai rubric alongside the Kasioi, from a small island in direct proximity to Karpathos.59 The Symaioi, from the small island of Syme, tucked between Rhodes and the mainland, appear in the 55  Again, see Ostwald (1982); Low (2007) 188–92; Dmitriev (2011) chapter 1 for autonomia in the classical period. 56  Thuc. 1.97.1. 57  Thuc. 5.18.5. This particular combination of autonomia, neutrality, and tribute may well have been a response to the unique circumstances of 421 bc: see Kallet-­Marx (1993) 182. 58  Ma (2009) 133. 59  IG I3 278.6 line 11; IG I3 279.2 line 83.

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  75 idiotai rubric.60 Karpathos and Syme, along with other nearby islands and part of the mainland opposite, have been identified by some scholars as being under the control of the Rhodian poleis in the fifth century.61 The Amorgioi, who appear in the autai rubric,62 were further away, but occupied a liminal position at the edge of the Kyklades;63 the presence of Rhodian cult on the island in the first century suggests a possible earlier Rhodian link.64 It seems that a regional dynamic centred on Rhodes may be at play; analysis of exactly what this dynamic was will be addressed further in Chapter 5. Christy Constantakopoulou, developing the ATL editors’ identification of apotaxis, has argued that either these communities actively chose to be assessed sep­ar­ate­ly from their larger neighbour Rhodes, or their presence in the lists reflects an Athenian policy, Ma’s ‘strategically fostered local segmentation’.65 The two factors need not be mutually exclusive. We might imagine that allied agency (as implied by the rubrics themselves) and Athenian authority operated simultaneously in the recognition and assessment of these communities. Athenian strategy may have even given smaller communities a first opportunity to assert themselves independently. This Athenian strategy was possibly a response to Rhodian regional power, an attempt to negotiate with smaller communities directly, rather than allow Rhodes to exercise influence over them through fiscal impositions. Separate assessment would have meant separate communication with the Athenians, possibly facilitated by mobility to Athens on the part of individuals from that community, and the use or development of local fiscal infrastructure.66 Another geographical pattern visible in the ataktoi, autai, and idiotai rubrics centres on Thrace; in fact, the majority of communities in these categories are located on the Chalkidike peninsula (see Map 2).67 Thucydides is reticent about the 430s in general, and about this region in the 430s in particular, in the build-­up to the events at Potidaia, one of the triggers for the Peloponnesian War.68 We know that there was Athenian activity in this region in these years, in competition with the kingdoms of Argead Macedon and Odrysian Thrace, as well as other Thracian communities and Greek poleis, most evidently at the Athenian foundation at 60  IG I3 278.6 line 28. 61 Fraser and Bean (1954) 95 on the proposed Rhodian mainland peraia in the fifth century, 138–53 on the islands. Jensen’s (2010) doctoral thesis analyses the ‘sub-­hegemonies’ of allied communities, including that of Rhodes. 62  IG I3 278.6 line 10; IG I3 279.2 line 80; also IG I3 281.3 line 57. 63  Amorgos is not consistently included in descriptions of the Kyklades: see Bonnin (2015) 81. 64  For Rhodian cult on the island, see Fraser and Bean (1954) 163. Jensen (2010) 36 suggests, equally plausibly given the limited evidence, that Amorgos was assessed separately from Samos not Rhodes; but Constantakopoulou (2007) 183 argues against Samian control of Amorgos before the third century. 65  Constantakopoulou (2013) 34; Ma (2009) 135. Nielsen and Gabrielsen (2004) 1198 and Kowalzig (2007) 254 also discuss this strategy of segmentation in the case of these communities. 66  As argued for in the case of Miletos by Driscoll (2018) 150–77. 67  Noted by Lepper (1962), among others. 68  See Chapter 4.3.2.1.

76  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Amphipolis in 438.69 Thucydides reports that, at the end of the decade, Perdikkas of Macedon encouraged revolt among the Bottiaians and the Chalkidians and ­supported the synoecism of some Chalkidic cities at Olynthos.70 The Thracian communities in the rubrics make insignificant tribute contributions (at least from an Athenian perspective; these contributions would pre­sum­ably not have been insignificant to the communities themselves) and were likely very small. Some of them appear here for the first time in the lists, some make their only appearance here and are known to us only through the lists (as far as we can know, given their fragmentary state). We are thus unable to locate them exactly. In List 21 (434/3), in the idiotai rubric, five otherwise unknown communities—­ Tindaioi, Kithas, Smilla, Gigonos, and Haisa—­even band together to make a small combined payment, but are still recognized individually by the Athenians.71 Clearly, the Athenians were negotiating with numerous communities, groups of communities, or individuals from communities, some of which were very small in size. Athenian interest in the region included this new inter­action with and assessment of small communities who had not previously made tribute payments. In some cases, it seems that these interactions were facilitated through a strategy of local segmentation, similar to that discussed by Ma and Constantakopoulou in the case of the island communities. In Thrace, rather than contesting the regional influence of one powerful ally, the Athenians appear to have resisted supra-polis collectives of allied communities.72 It is possible that some of these Thracian communities in the rubrics participated in the synoecism and revolt at Olynthos, given that they disappear from the lists after the 430s.73 Athenian recognition and assessment of individual communities may well have been an attempt to counter this move towards political union. Other communities in the rubrics were likely located in Bottike, to the north of Olynthos, and were part of the Bottiaian confederacy. A fragmentary treaty (the date of which is contested) between the Bottiaians and the Athenians lists a number of Bottiaian poleis, including that of the ḥαιό[λειον].74 Pernille Flensted-­Jensen has identified this community with the Aiolitai found in the autai rubric.75 She argues that Kithas and Tinde may also have been Bottiaian communities, given their likely locations.76 Again, it is possible that the Athenians sought to recognize these communities individually rather than as a single entity. Indeed, the Athenians list Kithas and Tinde as separate communities even though they made a combined payment, a deliberate act of individual acknowledgement. Once again, given the presence of these communities in rubrics implying allied volunteerism, we must also allow for allied agency interacting with top-­down Athenian strategy. 69  Thuc. 4.102. 70  Thuc. 1.58. 71  IG I3 278.6 lines 29–33. 72  For further discussion of these multi-polis entities, see Chapter 4.2.2. 73  This was suggested as early as Couch (1929). 74  IG I3 76 line 53. 75  Flensted-­Jensen (1995) 117. 76  Flensted-­Jensen (1995) 125.

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  77 A further two communities in these rubrics are located on the Asiatic Propontis (the Kallipolitai in the autai rubric, the exact location of which is unknown, and Bysbikos in the idiotai rubric; see Map 7).77 These communities were a stone’s throw from the Persian satrapal seat at Dasykleion. These communities, located on the strategically important straits between the Aegean and the Black Sea, were possibly contested by the Athenians and the Persians; I will explore this dynamic further in Chapter 6.78 A community from the rubrics cannot fit into this regional analysis: the Diakres apo Chalkideon, a previously unknown group on Euboia.79 Their name implies that they were a splinter group from the large polis of Chalkis and, like the Eteokarpathians, perhaps an artificial imposition on the Euboian landscape by the Athenians.80 To summarize thus far, judging by the decree for the Eteokarpathians, the ataktoi, autai, and idiotai rubrics likely show individualized Athenian interactions with allied communities. The locations of these communities form geographical patterns; this interaction, while differentiated, was also determined by regional circumstances, and negotiation strategies were perhaps replicated between neighbouring communities. The three primary regions in question—­Thrace, the islands around Rhodes, the Asiatic Propontis—­were peripheral and contested, whether by allied communities, multi-polis entities, or external powers. In numerous cases from across the different regions, an Athenian strategy of local segmentation can also be detected. The ATL editors observed this phenomenon and labelled it with the ancient term apotaxis, deeming it one of the factors behind the formation of the autai rubric.81 In their view, this segmentation was an Athenian policy of individual assessment of communities for the ­purpose of increasing revenue.82 However, the segmentation was likely more significant for the allied communities. It implies that the Athenians were acknowledging and negotiating with individual, small communities separately from their more powerful neighbours, thereby giving them an opportunity to choose to contribute.

2.2.3  Voluntary Contributions and Allied Agency But why would allied communities or individuals from allied communities choose to pay tribute? There are many possibilities. An Athenian presence or 77 Kallipolitai: IG I3 278.6 line 12; IG I3 279.2 line 87; see also IG I3 281.3 line 56. Bysbikos: IG I3 278.6 line 34. 78  For the suggestion that these communities had previously been assessed with Byzantion, see Russell (2017) 79. 79  IG I3 278.6 lines 25–6; IG I3 279.2 lines 94–5; see also IG I3 282.2 lines 46–7. 80  See Lepper (1962) 39; Ma (2009) 135. 81  ATL 3 83. 82  ATL 3 195 on apotaxis; see also Meiggs (1972) 241.

78  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc force in the region in question may have acted as a stick, as the ATL editors suggested. The role of (potential) violence and its interaction with negotiation processes must never be discounted. Nonetheless, carrots were also certainly present, and we should allow for actual allied agency as implied by the rubric headings themselves. Communities may have seen potential advantages to joining the Athenians. An Athenian willingness to negotiate on an individual basis may have given smaller allied communities the opportunity to assert themselves in regional contexts, separately from their more powerful neighbours. As Christy Constantakopoulou emphasizes, such an assertion may have had wide-­ranging political and economic consequences, from the participation of communities in new ‘elaborate political procedures’ to integration in wider networks of exchange.83 In his study of the Lesbian mainland territory, Aneurin Ellis-­Evans contends that the Athenian assessment of smaller communities separately from Mytilene allowed them to be recognized as poleis for the first time.84 Eric Driscoll, moreover, has considered the record of Miletos in the lists, alongside the separate assessment of communities in the Milesian chora; he argues that Athens’s assessment of these communities gave them opportunities to develop not just fiscally, but politically, given that they are later attested as Milesian demes in the Hellenistic period.85 Communities listed under the autai rubric might have also hoped for protection from the Athenians. All the regions I have identified were areas in which the Athenians faced competing powers, whether larger allied communities, suprapolis groups of communities, Argead Macedon, Odrysian Thrace, or the Persian satrap at Daskyleion. Coastal communities may also have been prey to pirates.86 The Athenians may have seemed like the lesser of two evils to smaller communities. It is also possible that some of these communities were hedging their bets, making payments to the Athenians while simultaneously providing support to another power.87 Further, communities may have wished to participate in Athenian-­controlled commercial contexts. This interpretation depends on a much larger, much debated question, the extent to which the Athenians were able to control commercial routes or levy taxes on trade. Some scholars such as Finley, following the Pseudo-­Xenophontic Athenian Constitution, have argued for overly far-­reaching reconstructions of Athenian economic thalassocracy.88 This interpretation is undoubtedly unfounded. We do know, however, of instances where the Athenians were able to assert control over trade, whether through force, taxation, or a 83  Constantakopoulou (2013). 84  Ellis-­Evans (2019) 174–7. 85  Driscoll (2018) 150–77. 86  A threat made explicit, for example, in the early fifth-­century curse inscriptions from Teos: see Adak and Thonemann (2022) Document 2. 87  See Chapter 6 for further exploration of overlapping Athenian and Achaemenid fiscal claims. 88  Finley (1981).

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  79 possible combination of the two: the Megarian decree, for instance, or the Athenian taxation of ships passing through the Bosporos.89 Certain commercial advantages might have been accorded by the Athenians to allied communities, at the very least at the Piraeus. We also need to return our attention once more to the network of mobile, elite individuals which underlay these community-­ level negotiations. Indeed, the presence of individuals with whom the Athenians had personal connections is explicitly denoted by the idiotai rubric. The idiotai may have offered their communities up for assessment because of their personal relationships with Athens and Athenians, and perhaps the prospect of individual recognition, gain, or reward. It is worth noting that an individual from Kleonai, one of the communities in the idiotai rubric, was made an Athenian proxenos.90 These individuals may also have faced political opposition, even stasis, and thus could not have expressed support for the Athenians on behalf of their entire communities. Alternatively, they may have been leading figures in a narrower oligarchic system; we might compare certain Karian communities in the lists, which are referred to by the name of their dynastic ruler.91 As I discussed in the previous chapter, the Athenian utilization of the elite network allowed imperial diplomacy to operate in all kinds of political systems. We should also think of the internal fiscal structure of the communities. For the most part they were very small, likely without complex taxation systems. Individuals may have borne considerable fiscal responsibility, perhaps contributing some kind of liturgy, and this may have been the main source of the communities’ tribute payments. The rubrics could have been a recognition of this arrangement. It is notable that the Athenian system ensured the collection and record of these small payments from small communities, alongside the larger payments from more prominent allies. In itself, the assessment of such small communities might imply allied initiative, given that the tribute of these communities was financially insignificant for the Athenians; but it also suggests that the significance of tribute payment was greater than a simple financial transaction. In sum, there are many reasons why both communities and individuals might choose to pay tribute. Unfortunately, except in the case of the Eteokarpathians, we cannot know the specifics of the negotiation process; but we can conclude that the allied communities as collectives, as well as individual negotiators, had wide-­ ranging and distinctive motivations. 89  See again Thuc. 1.139 on the Megarian decree. See Chapter 6.3 for Athenian taxation at the Bosporos and the Piraeus. 90  Walbank (1978) 410 notes that the proxeny decree for Echembrotos of Kleonai (IG II2 63), ­dating from the early fourth century, states that Echembrotos’ proxenia was hereditary; we can thus identify Echembrotos’ father as an Athenian proxenos of the late fifth century. 91  For example, IG I3 284 lines 7–8.

80  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

2.2.4  Beyond the Rubrics: A Broader History of Varied Assessment My first snapshot in the history of the tribute system is only a part of a much broader picture of varied assessment and payment visible in the lists; and indeed, aspects of my analysis of the ataktoi, autai, and idiotai rubrics can be applied to variations observed elsewhere. There are other instances of explicit headings or labels denoting varied statuses of tribute contribution. For instance, the term epiphora is used in the lists between 440/39 and the 420s to mark a small additional payment, which follows on from a normal tribute payment.92 It has often been interpreted as a penalty payment, as the same term is used in Delian inscriptions of the third century to denote a fine imposed for a late fulfilment of a contract.93 Samuel Eddy, however, in a thorough examination of the label, highlights Thucydides’ use of the term to mean an extra payment and consequently argues that epiphora in the context of the lists denotes a voluntary contribution.94 Such an interpretation would work well in the context of the autai rubric, especially as many of the communities making epiphora payments fit into the regional patterns which have already been laid out. Two Thracian communities, Haison and Stageira, make epiphora payments,95 as do a number of communities on the Hellespont, Asiatic Propontis, and Bosporos, along with Chalke, an island in the vicinity of Rhodes.96 Another revealing rubric heading appears in List (26): ‘those poleis which contributed the aparche’.97 The heading is placed above three cities in the Thracian area (including Haison, just seen contributing epiphora). In another rare alignment of the lists and an inscribed decree, Methone makes its first appearance in the lists here; the rubric clearly ties in exactly with the measure regarding tribute in the first decree for Methone, discussed in Chapter  1.98 We can thus see that two other communities alongside Methone were also granted near exemption from tribute, apart from payment of the portion to Athena. As with the Eteokarpathians, a little more about the appearance of Methone in this rubric can be reconstructed, due to the survival of the Methone decrees. As I will discuss in Chapter 4, Methone occupied a uniquely strategic position on the Thermaic Gulf, on the doorstep of Argead Macedon. This no doubt influenced the Methoneans’ individualized process of negotiation with the Athenians, evident in the decrees; but its presence in the aparche rubric alongside 92  Found in List 15 (IG I3 272, 440/430 bc) through List (25) (IG I3 281). See also the reference in a fragmentary financial decree (IG I3 60 line 3). 93  For example, ID 502, 506, 507; see Nesselhauf (1933) 51–2; ATL 1 450–3. 94  Eddy (1968); Thuc. 6.31.3. 95 Haison: IG I3 276.6 line 28 (436/5). Stageira: IG I3 277.6 line 18 (435/4). 96 Chalke: IG I3 280.1 lines 54–5 (432/1). Fraser and Bean (1954) 139 argue that Chalke was under Rhodian control in the fifth century; Constantakopoulou (2007) 189 disagrees. 97  IG I3 282.2 lines 51–6: [ℎαί]δε τ͂ον π[ό]λε[ο]ν [α]ὐτὲ[ν] | τὲν ἀπα[ρ]χὲν ἀπέγαγον. 98  IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 5–9; 29–32.

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  81 two other neighbouring Thracian communities indicates that its broader regional context was also important. The communities listed in the aparche rubric might have referred to each other, forming independent but related negotiation processes with the Athenians. Simultaneously, it is clear once again that Athenian strategy was determined by the regional context of the allied communities in question. More commonly, however, there are not rubrics present, and variations in assessment or payment in the lists are thus less explicitly noted. There is significant variation, for instance, in the combined or separate assessment (i.e. synteleia and apotaxis) of larger communities and their smaller neighbours;99 Erythrai is a good example, examined by Moroo, as is Miletos, discussed by Driscoll.100 Tribute assessment was clearly variable, targeted to the circumstances of particular communities and regions, and, in some circumstances at least, individually negotiated. It should be noted, however, that not all communities’ contributions exhibit notable variations or abnormalities; some communities in strategic areas may have had more bargaining power than others. Why did the Athenians begin to indicate these varied statuses through the inclusion of the explicit rubrics in the 430s? They could simply show a change in Athenian bureaucratic practice, or a desire for accuracy in the eyes of the goddess receiving the offerings. They were perhaps intended to advertise allied volunteerism on the part of so many communities, separately from their larger neighbours; the rubrics were inscribed in fairly large letters at eye level on the lapis secundus, and are a noticeable departure from the usual layout of the lists. The presence of the rubrics in themselves, however, perhaps also shows a shift towards categorization, an Athenian acceptance of these varied statuses, and an expectation of ne­go­ti­ation; but not, it must be said, a defined context of negotiation. We have seen from the decrees for Methone and the Eteokarpathians just how specific these communities’ negotiations processes were (and indeed, these documents fell into my second category of decrees in Chapter 1, which were not defined by recognizable parameters of negotiation). For a clearer move towards increased Athenian control over fiscal negotiation, I need to turn to my second moment in the history of the tribute system.

2.3  Snapshot 2: The Council and the Court In the 420s, in my second snapshot of the tribute system, evidence emerges for a different kind of negotiation. A number of sources attest to the establishment of an Athenian court or courts in which allied communities were able to contest their tribute assessment within defined parameters. 99  Once again, see Jensen (2010) for an overview. 100  Moroo (2014) 107–10; Driscoll (2018) 150–77.

82  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc First, a court of 1500 jurors is evident in a rubric in List (25), under which no community names are extant: ‘those poleis which the boule and the 1500 assessed’.101 The heading also implies the involvement of the boule or council in the assessment: this negotiation occurred in both Athenian legal and political contexts. Next, a defined legal context for negotiation over tribute levels was also laid out by the Athenians in the empire-­wide decree proposed by Thoudippos for the reassessment of tribute in 425/4 (see Figure 2.1).102 The decree provides for the setting up of a new court to which it seems allies could appeal if they were having difficulties due to decreased productivity of the land;103 it must be noted that tribute assessments were simultaneously raised to much higher levels. Undoubtedly agricultural productivity was not the only criterion for tribute assessment, but would surely have been an important one in many communities, particularly those without lucrative resources such as mines or busy harbours. The polemarch is mentioned; this was the magistrate who chaired the court dealing with matters involving favoured foreign citizens.104 The boule once again also appears to play a role.105 The explicit reason for setting up the court appears to be that the tribute

Figure 2.1  Fragment of 425/4 bc reassessment of tribute showing the island panel (IG I3 71). Metropolitan Museum (open licence).

101  IG I3 281.3 lines 60–1 ταῖσδε ℎ[ε] βολὲ καὶ ℎοι πεντακόσιοι | καὶ χίλ[ιοι ἔτ]αχσαν. 102  IG I3 71 = OR 153 = AIO 959. For a helpful general overview of this decree, see Lambert (2017). 103  Lines 16–22. 104  Line 13. 105  Line 17.

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  83 was too low to support higher levels of expenditure (the stone is somewhat fragmentary here): ‘since the tribute has become too little . . .’.106 Fragments from two undated speeches of Antiphon show that the Athenian orator was employed by two allied communities to plead for lowered tribute l­ evels in a legal context. The surviving quotations of Antiphon’s speech for the Rhodian polis of Lindos are very fragmentary, and reveal little about Antiphon’s argumentation,107 but the fragments of his speech on behalf of Samothrake are  more extensive.108 Antiphon argued for a lowered assessment for the Samothrakians because of the small size and poor quality of their available cul­tiv­able land: For the island which we inhabit is mountainous and rocky, as is visible even from far away. It is small, and the productive and cultivable portion is small, and the unproductive portion large.109

It also seems that the issue of the separate assessment of Samothrake’s mainland possessions was addressed in the speech, as Harpokration defines the term apotaxis by reference to it.110 The small mainland coastal communities of Drys, Zone, and Sale appear for the first time in the assessment of 422/1, suggesting that they had previously been assessed with Samothrake, but were separated around this time.111 The speech also referred to the Samothrakian officials (eklogeis) who collected the tribute, saying that they were the wealthiest citizens.112 This establishment of a court or courts for negotiation over levels of tribute might also be reflected in an enigmatic phrase in the Athenian decree for Chalkis, mentioned in Chapter 1, which implies that it was expected that the Chalkidians might contest their assessment. The decree states that the Chalkidians will pay the tribute level which they ‘persuade’ the Athenians to accept.113 The clause is also present in another decree of identical wording, which probably refers to Eretria.114 The date of these decrees is thought to be either 446/5 or 424/3; if the latter is correct, then it would tie in chronologically with the other references.115 This persuasion does not necessarily imply a legal context, however; a political context, such as the Athenian boule, is also possible. The Chalkidians are also awarded quick access to the council in the same decree, after all.116

106  Lines 16–17: [τ͂ο δὲ φόρο, ἐπειδ]ὲ ὀλέζον ἐγ[ένε]το . . . 107  Antiph. fr. 25–33 (Thalheim). 108  Antiph. fr. 49–56 (Thalheim). 109  Antiph. fr. 50 (Thalheim): Ἡ γὰρ νῆσος, ἣν ἔχομεν, δήλη μὲν καὶ πόρρωθεν ἐστὶν ὑψηλὴ καὶ τραχεῖα· καὶ τὰ μὲν χρήσιμα καὶ ἐργάσιμα μικρὰ αὐτῆς ἐστι, τὰ δ᾿ ἀργὰ πολλά, μικρᾶς αὐτῆς οὔσης. 110  Antiph. fr. 55 (Thalheim). 111  IG I3 77.5 lines 27–31. 112  Antiph. fr. 52 (Thalheim). 113  IG I3 40 = OR 131 lines 25–7: κ-|αὶ τὸν φόρον ℎυποτελ͂ο Ἀθεναίοισιν, ℎὸν | ἂν πείθο Ἀθεναίος. 114  IG I3 39 = AIO 1257 lines 11–12. 115  See Appendix A.1. 116  IG I3 40 = OR 131 lines 12–14.

84  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc The establishment of a court or courts, certainly attested by the rubric in List (25), the 425/4 Thoudippos decree, and the Antiphon fragments, demonstrates the Athenian creation of a defined legal context for negotiation, which was advertised and available, an Athenian-­controlled setting for the assertion of allied agency. This context, a court with a jury of Athenian citizens, would have reduced the potential for informal negotiations between individual agents. In the court referred to in the 425/4 decree, allied energies were channelled into one particular kind of petition, regarding agricultural productivity; this is also the focus of one of the more substantial Antiphon fragments. It is not clear whether the court referred to in the boule rubric was the same as this court; if not, we cannot know whether it only heard similar cases, or whether its remit was broader. These references to a court or courts are rather enigmatic and limited. But consideration of the broader evidence for the Athenian fiscal system, and perceptions of fiscality, at exactly this time, shows how this assertion of legal control over fiscal negotiations was part of a larger reconsideration of Athenian revenue production, and of the role of individuals in fiscal negotiation.

2.3.1  The Empire-­Wide Decrees and Corruption There is extensive evidence attesting to significant financial pressure on the Athenians in the 420s bc, when the pressures of the Archidamian War—­increased expenditure, and regular Spartan raids in Attica—­began to bite.117 Thucydides reports that in 428 Athens imposed a property tax (eisphora) on its citizens, when it needed money for the siege of Mytilene.118 He also notes, on three occasions (one in connection with the siege and the eisphora), that the Athenians sent out ships to gather contributions from communities both in and beyond the empire.119 The most emphatic evidence, however, is provided by three surviving empire-­ wide measures on tribute collection and assessment, proposed by Kleonymos, Thoudippos (which we have already encountered), and Kleinias respectively.120 The decree proposed by Kleonymos makes the link to military expenditure crystal clear (‘so that the Athenians may wage the war most well and easily’),121 as does the decree proposed by Thoudippos.122 The empire-­wide decrees on debts briefly referred to in the first Methone decree, dated to around 117  As illuminated by Samons (2000) chapter  4; Kallet-­Marx (1993) chapter  6; Kallet and Kroll (2020) 108–9. 118  Thuc. 3.19. 119  Thuc. 2.69.1, 3.19.1, 4.50.1, 4.75.1 with Kallet-­Marx (1993) 160–4. 120  New texts and analysis of all three decrees were provided by Matthaiou (2009); these have been carried over into more recent editions. IG I3 60, a fragmentary text, contains a reference to tribute and can perhaps be situated in the same context. 121  IG I3 68 = OR 152 lines 27–8: [ℎ]όπος δὲ ἄρι[στα καὶ ῾ρρᾶ]ιστα οἴσοσι Ἀθενα-|[ῖοι τ]ὸν πόλεμ[ον]. 122  IG I3 71 = OR 153 = AIO 959 lines 47–8.

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  85 430, can likely be understood in this same context of fiscal emergency.123 The ‘Standards decree’, which imposed the use of Athenian coinage, weights, and measures on all cities in the empire, is also sometimes dated by scholars to the 420s and thus also placed in this framework; but, as I will discuss in the next section, I follow Lisa Kallet in favouring a date shortly before 413, in connection with the introduction of the 5 per cent harbour tax.124 The earliest of the three surviving empire-­wide measures consists of two decrees, the first proposed by Kleonymos, regarding the collection of tribute.125 It is almost certainly dated to the first half of the 420s, and likely to 426/5 bc.126 The stele is adorned by a document relief, which could not more clearly convey its topic, for it depicts bags of money.127 Kleonymos’ decree lays down that allied communities had to appoint eklogeis or collectors of tribute (also referred to by the orator Antiphon, as mentioned above),128 who would be accountable for their cities’ payments.129 A public assembly was to be held at Athens after the Dionysia festival, in which the Hellenotamiai would reveal which cities had paid their tribute.130 An additional decree, the proposer of which is not preserved, concerns the election of Athenian epimeletai or overseers, who seem to be placed in charge of a court where anyone obstructing tribute collection could be prosecuted.131 The second is the decree proposed by Thoudippos regarding tribute assessment, which is securely dated to 425/4 bc (see Figure 2.1).132 It organizes new tribute assessments and procedures, including, as discussed, a new mechanism of appeal overseen by a court. Moreover, it lays out extensive punishments for Athenian officials who hinder the assessment process, in conditional constructions, named ‘entrenchment clauses’ by David Lewis.133 The prytaneis, the rotating leaders of the council, are the particular targets of these entrenchment clauses. The document is followed by a list of the new assessment levels. Communities previously unassessed, and even some beyond the scope of Athenian power, are listed; and the levels of assessment are much higher than ever before.134 One wonders whether the Athenians actually expected these controversial assessments to be contested by communities. Finally, a third decree proposed by Kleinias, clearly dating shortly after the decree of Thoudippos, once again concerns tribute collection.135 The Athenian council, Athenian officials called episkopoi (inspectors), and allied officials are said to be responsible for the collection.136 Processes are put in place to make sure individuals cannot dip into the tribute for themselves: the city is to write on a

123  IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 13–15. 124  Kallet (2001) 205–26; Kallet and Kroll (2020) 111–21. 125  IG I3 68 = OR 152. 126  See Osborne and Rhodes (2017) 306. 127  Lawton (1995) no. 1. 128  Antiph. fr. 52 (Thalheim). 129  Lines 5–8. 130  Lines 10–15. 131  Lines 37–50. 132  IG I3 71 = OR 153 = AIO 959. 133  Lines 27–39. Lewis (1997) 136–49. 134  Famously, for example, the Melians are assessed for an enormous 15 talents (line 65). 135  IG I3 34 = OR 154 = AIUK 4.2 no. 5. 136  Lines 5–10.

86  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc tablet what tribute it is sending,137 and the tablet is to be sealed with a token.138 At Athens, the tablet is then to be read by the council;139 and then, once again, an assembly is to be convened for the Hellenotamiai to reveal the levels of tribute.140 Extensive entrenchment clauses are aimed at the misbehaviour of both Athenians and allied individuals (the latter are restored in the text, but the restoration is fairly secure).141 These empire-­wide decrees clearly do not fit into the analysis I have provided thus far in this book. I have argued that interactions between allied communities and the Athenians tended to be conducted on a bilateral basis; but these decrees are completely universal and unilateral. I should note that there are a few possible examples of measures passed in relation to all communities in the empire before these decrees of the 420s. Plutarch records the so-­called Congress Decree of the first half of the century, which allegedly demanded that all Greek cities send dele­ gates to a meeting in Athens to discuss what should be done with the sanctuaries destroyed by the Persians;142 but, as with much of the content in Plutarch’s Life of Perikles, the historicity of the decree cannot be considered certain. In any case, it is noteworthy that, according to Plutarch, the decree encountered resistance and was unsuccessful.143 The inscribed Athenian decree concerning the Attic sanctuary of Eleusis,144 which mandates first-­fruit offerings from all allies, and encourages them from all Greeks, is usually dated by scholars to the 430s (on the basis of epigraphic arguments and references to certain officials in the text),145 so possibly provides a precedent for the decrees of the 420s. Some scholars, however, favour a date in the 420s; and Theodora Jim has argued that the strict arrangements for the storage of the grain offerings shows that the decree may well have had practical, as well as religious, significance.146 Jim’s analysis would thus support a date in the 420s in the same context of financial crisis. I think it is fair, then, to identify a conceptual shift in the passing of these empire-­wide decrees, or at least a shift in the way monumental epigraphy was being used by the Athenians at this time. The decrees provide for some limited contexts of negotiation, such as Thoudippos’ court. But they were very clearly not the result of bilateral interactions, rather imposing uniform measures on all allied communities. Moreover, they all exhibit a sustained preoccupation with individual behaviour, whether ineptitude or corruption. All three decrees limit the scope of the individual activity which underlay the community-­level interactions; they bring the relevant individuals more into the public view through appointments to official positions, and set processes of transparency and publicity. Contrast the anonymous idiotai of the aforementioned rubric. Further, the fragment of 137  Lines 14–15. 138  Lines 15–16. 139  Lines 16–18. 140  Lines 18–22. 141  Lines 31–40. 142 Plut. Per. 17. 143  Liddel (2020b) 178. 144  IG I3 78 = OR 141. 145  See Osborne and Rhodes (2017) 234–5 for an explanation of these dating criteria. 146  Jim (2014) 210.

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  87 Antiphon’s speech on behalf of the Samothrakians referring to the allied officials in charge of tribute collection (eklogeis) as the wealthiest citizens implies that these individuals were often part of the inter-polis elite network discussed in the previous chapter.147 Corruption or incompetence on the part of Athenian officials is attested before this time. In the late fifth century, Antiphon refers to a past scandal, in which a whole board of the Hellenotamiai was executed for wrongful handling of the tribute money.148 Stephen Tracy has ingeniously tied this incident to irregularities in the lists visible from 449/8 to 447/6: two of the lists show significant issues with collection, while one list is entirely missing.149 Tracy also notes that the lists underwent a complete reorganization in the years following (including the introduction of geographical panels), suggesting an overhaul in the processes of assessment and collection.150 The fact that Antiphon was recollecting the ­execution so many years later shows that it was considered to be a serious, even shocking, event. Nonetheless, this sustained preoccupation with individual corruption, in inscribed decrees aimed not at individual communities but at the entire empire, can still be considered a new development. Consideration of the surviving Aristophanic plays from the 420s, moreover, corroborates the picture I have painted thus far, and shows that it was a development not attested solely in the epigraphic record.

2.3.2  Aristophanes and Imperial Revenues A recurring theme in the surviving Aristophanic plays, particularly prominent in the Wasps (422 bc) and the Knights (424 bc), is the proper use of Athenian p ­ ublic finances, including revenues from allied communities, for the benefit of the Athenian demos as a whole; and the improper, personal enrichment of prominent individuals through misappropriation of these finances.151 A prime example from the Knights, one of many in the play, is provided by the chorus’s condemnation of the protagonist Paphlagon, who is a thinly veiled representation of the ­pol­it­ician Kleon:

147  Antiph. fr. 52 (Thalheim): ἡιρέθησαν γὰρ ἐκλογῆς παρ᾽ ἡμῖν οἷς πλεῖστα ἐδόκει χρήματα εἶναι (‘those of us who were appointed as eklogeis were known to be the richest’). 148  Antiph. 5.69–71. 149  Tracy (2014). 150  Tracy (2014) 9. 151  As emphasized by Meiggs (1972) 392 and Forrest (1975) 24. Konstan (1985) 33 provides statistical proof to show the prominence of the theme in the Wasps: he notes that references to theft (some of which concern revenues from the allies) appear almost twenty times in the course of the play. See Lazar (Forthcoming b) for further discussion of Old Comedy’s preoccupation with Athenian revenues.

88  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Villainous and loathsome screamer! Your audacity fills the whole earth, the whole assembly, all taxes, all indictments, all lawcourts, you mud-­churner, you who have thrown our whole city into chaos and confusion, you who have deafened our Athens with your shouting, watching like the tunny-­fisher from the rocks above for shoals of tribute (phorous).152

It seems that the theme was also present in the work of other comic poets, whose complete works are not extant. It is encapsulated perfectly by a surviving fragment of Kratinos’ Ploutoi (likely dated between 430 and 420): This man has not gained his wealth justly here . . . but he has his money from a long time back, having everything he has from the arche . . .153

The plot of the play seems to involve ‘Wealth Gods’ coming to Athens to deal with those who possess wealth which has been acquired unjustly.154 The politician and general Hagnon appears to be one of those accused; it is said in this fragment that his wealth was hereditary, but the pun implies that it may in fact be derived from allied communities (arche referring both to the ‘beginning’ and to the ‘empire’). There is also maintained association in the Aristophanic corpus between ­tribute, or other revenues derived from the allies, and bribery or extortion. In Wasps, for example, in the agon between the lawsuit-­loving Philokleon and his exasperated son Bdelykleon, Bdelykleon, in a long examination of Athenian imperial finances, hyperbolically explains how certain prominent Athenian individuals claim parts of the tribute from the allies through the threat of violence: And then they (i.e. politicians like Kleon) get bribed by the poleis to the tune of fifty talents, by making terrifying threats like this: “you will give me your tribute, or I will overthrow your city with my thunder”. While you are quite content to nibble at the trotters of your own arche.155

To return to Knights, there are any number of jokes demonstrating this as­so­ci­ ation. The Sausage Seller accuses Paphlagon of thinking about taking bribes from allied cities in general,156 and of having taken a bribe from Mytilene specifically.157 152 Ar. Eq. 303–13. See also, for example, Ar. Eq. 438, where the Sausage Seller accuses Paphlagon of extracting 10 talents from Potidaia—­which must have been prominent in Athens after the siege and the foundation of the Athenian settlement (see Chapter 4.3.2.1)—or Ar. Eq. 1030–4, where the Sausage Seller gives an oracle that a dog will go into the kitchen by night and lick the plates and the islands clean, a metaphor Aristophanes realizes literally on stage in Wasps. 153  Kratinos fr. 171.69–71: οὗτος οὐ πλουτεῖ δικαίως ἐνθάδ’ ὥστε . . . ἀλλὰ μὴν ἀρχαιόπλουτός γ’ ἐστὶν ἐξ ἀρχ[ῆς] ἔχων πάνθ’ ὅσ’ ἐστ’ αὐτῶι . . . (text and translation by Storey). 154  Ruffell (2000) 475–81. 155 Ar. Vesp. 669–72. 156 Ar. Eq. 801–2. 157 Ar. Eq. 834–5; Sommerstein (1981) 189 points out that, according to Thuc. 3.38.2, Kleon levies this charge against Diodotos in the Mytilenean debate.

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  89 Later, the Sausage Seller says that he can see foreign ambassadors coming with purses full of silver, and Paphlagon asks where they are.158 At the end of the play, after the Sausage Seller’s victory, Demos suggests that Paphlagon be brought out so the foreigners in the audience can see who harassed them.159 Most pertinently, for my purposes, Aristophanes also links corruption on the part of Athenian individuals with legal contexts, prominently in the domestic trial which dominates the second half of Wasps, instigated by Bdelykleon to keep his litigious father Philokleon at home. It concerns the dog Labes (representing the politician Laches) eating cheese from Sicily (probably representing revenues derived from Sicilian poleis) without sharing it:160 Now hear the indictment. “The Hound (Cyon) of Cydathenaeum indicts Labes of Aexone of the crime of having eaten up the Sicilian cheese all by himself ”.161

The charge is brought for self-­interested reasons by a canine version, Kuon, of the politician Kleon, who complains that Labes/Laches did not give him any cheese when requested.162 There are many elements of the scene which send up Athenian legal procedure (for instance, various items of kitchen equipment are called as witnesses).163 It seems likely that Aristophanes was reflecting a real legal context for the prosecution of corrupt officials. In sum, Aristophanes, in his plays of the 420s, showed a maintained preoccupation with the proper use of imperial revenues, the possibility of bribery, extortion, and corruption, and the role of the Athenian legal system in both restricting and encouraging this activity. And this preoccupation is apparent in the very same years as the evidence emerges for a court or courts where tribute assessment could be contested, and as the passing of empire-­wide decrees limiting the potential for corruption on the part of both allied and Athenian individuals in tribute assessment and collection. The domestic court in Wasps could be straight out of an epigraphic entrenchment clause. Aristophanes’ plays are the closest we get to understanding public perceptions in Athens, as he was directing his jokes to an audience composed of the general Athenian population. We can thus see that the role of individuals in the tribute system was not just an area of concern to those proposing and drafting decrees, but to the citizen body more generally.164 In this second snapshot in the history of the Athenian tribute system, then, we can see how the possibility for varied tribute statuses was reduced, negotiation on the part of allied communities channelled into particular Athenian legal contexts, 158 Ar. Eq. 1196–7. 159 Ar. Eq. 1407–8. 160 Compare IG I3 291, which records contributions to the Athenians from communities in Magna Graecia. 161 Ar. Vesp. 894–7. 162 Ar. Vesp. 914–15. 163 Ar. Vesp. 936–40. 164  See also Thonemann (2020), which illuminates the financial context of Lysistrata and argues for general public interest in public finance.

90  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc and the role of individuals, likely members of the inter-polis elite network, limited and controlled. And this trend towards the limiting of community-­level ne­go­ti­ation, along with the individual activity underlying it, is even more visible in my final snapshot in the history of tribute.

2.4  Snapshot 3: The End of Tribute My third and final snapshot in the history of the tribute system is its abolition, and the Athenians’ adoption of the eikoste, a universal 5 per cent harbour tax in allied communities, in its place.165 Thucydides, with frustrating brevity, tells how the Athenians introduced this tax at a time of fiscal crisis during the Sicilian campaign and the renewed Peloponnesian occupation of Dekeleia in 413 bc: And it was at this time that they imposed upon their subjects, instead of the tribute, the tax of a twentieth upon all imports and exports by sea, which they thought would raise more money for them; their expenditure being now not the same as at first, but having grown with the war while their revenues decayed.166

On the one hand, this new eikoste would have been easy to implement: taxation on mobility would have been widespread in allied harbours,167 and, as discussed above, the tribute system would have already skimmed surplus from this taxation. Nicholas Purcell eloquently summarizes: ‘the powerful sense that this episode gives us of the normality, regularity, ubiquity, and importance of the practice of taxing seaborne redistribution’.168 But, as Lisa Kallet rightly points out, this overhaul of the Athenian fiscal system was also ‘extraordinary’.169 The burden would now fall on allies in a different way. Some communities without harbours would no longer make contributions to the Athenians directly, while others would be liable for higher contributions.170 Different individuals would be directly affected, including individuals from other communities, possibly beyond the empire, trading in allied harbours. The religious aspect of tribute, with the contributions of 165  I do not believe that the evidence is strong enough to argue, as some scholars do (for instance Meiggs (1972) 369), that tribute was subsequently reintroduced. Xen. Hell. 1.3.9 states that Kalchedon agreed to pay phoros in 409 bc, but Ar. Ran. 363, dated to 405 bc, refers to an eikostologos. ATL 1 120, 208 followed by Meiggs (1972) 438, based on the assumption that the implementation of the eikoste was brief, date a possible fragmentary assessment list (IG I3 100) to 410; I would not date it exactly, but would place it before 413 (and I think that the whole document requires fresh analysis). In my view, the continuity of the eikoste into the fourth century suggests that the tax was still in place at the end of the fifth (see below, this section). 166  Thuc. 7.28. For extended discussion of this passage, see Kallet (2001) 195–205; Figueira (2005). 167  Mackil (2015) 486 describes how taxes on mobility were the most common type of taxation in the Greek world. 168  Purcell (2005) 225. 169  Kallet (2001) 196. 170  Kallet (2001) 203.

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  91 aparche, was removed (and with it some of the mandated mobility to Athens on the part of allied individuals, as I will discuss in the next chapter). Importantly for this discussion, this overhaul would have also affected the way negotiation was conducted, and how allied agency could be asserted. The best testimony for this comes not from the time of the eikoste in the fifth century, for which the evidence is woefully slim, but from a decree from the first decades of the fourth century, when the Athenians, led by Thrasyboulos, were expanding their power in the Aegean before the King’s Peace of 386 bc ended the Corinthian War.171 It seems that the eikoste was re-­established, at least in certain contexts, in these years. A decree concerning the people of Klazomenai dated to 387/6, briefly mentioned in Chapter 1, states that the Klazomenians were to pay ‘the five-­percent tax of the time of Thrasyboulos’,172 if the Athenians left them free to make their own arrangements in relation to their dissidents at Chyton, a kind of reciprocal exchange.173 The fragmentary end of the decree implies that they were to have exemption from other forms of taxation: ‘they shall pay no other dues’.174 It seems that the decree resulted from a negotiation process, with some honorific elements; it was clearly a response to an embassy from Klazomenai, as the ambassadors’ speech is mentioned.175 In this decree, the Athenians grant other fiscal privileges to the Klazomenians, but not exemption from the eikoste, for which the Klazomenians agree to be fully liable. If we extrapolate from this back to the fifth century, we can conclude that negotiation in the eikoste system had a limited range of outcomes: eligibility for payment of the eikoste or total exemption. A lowered percentage of taxation, with limited variations, would presumably have also been possible, although it is not explicit in this document. The opportunities for a range of assessment statuses in the tribute system, or the negotiation over assessment levels shown by the courts of the 420s, were removed. In introducing the eikoste, then, the Athenians also removed the flexibility and the opportunities for varied assertions of allied agency of the old system. The move towards this restriction at the end of the fifth century was also clearly maintained in the fourth, with the Athenians’ renewed attempt at levying the tax. Interestingly, it seems to have been particularly associated with the individual influence of Thrasyboulos, so prominent individuals continued to play a role in the negotiation process. Consideration of the ‘Standards decree’ can perhaps supplement this picture.176 As I explained in the previous section, scholars often date this empire-­wide decree 171 Xen. Hell. 4.8.25–30, Diod. Sic. 14.94 with Cawkwell (1976). 172  IG II2 28 = RO 18 = AIO 800 lines 7–8: τὴν ἐπὶ | Θρασυβούλο εἰκοστὴν. 173  Lines 7–13. See also IG II2 24 lines 5–6, a decree concerning Thasos, which also refers to the eikoste in connection with Thrasyboulos. 174  Line 23: [τέ]λη οὐχ ὑποτελοῦ[ντας]. 175  Line 6: περὶ δὲ ὧλ λέγοσι (‘concerning what they say’). 176  IG I3 1453 = OR 155.

92  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc to the 420s. But Lisa Kallet, convincingly in my view, has argued for its as­so­ci­ation with the introduction of the 5 per cent tax, and thus a date shortly before 413 bc.177 The decree has been found in a number of fragmentary copies at Syme, near Rhodes; Aphytis in coastal Thrace; Hamaxitos (or the Smintheion sanctuary) in the Troad;178 Olbia on the Black Sea; Cos; Smyrna; and Siphnos. The texts provided in epigraphic corpora are thus complex composites. The most discussed lines are at the end, in the oath made by the Athenian council: If anyone strikes silver coinage in the cities and does not use the coins of the Athenians or their weights or measures, but foreign coins and weights and measures . . .179

Kallet contends that this measure would not have had practical use in the context of tribute, which relied on allies’ own fiscal infrastructures, was assessed by weight, and was paid in a variety of coinages; but makes complete sense if it were intended to ease the introduction of the eikoste. She is supported by a clear reference to the decree in Aristophanes’ Birds of 414 bc, implying that it was a topical ­subject. A decree-­seller comes to the new city of Cloudcuckooland, and offers to sells its inhabitants a decree concerning weights, measures, and decrees: The Cloudcuckoovillains shall use measures, weights and decrees, in like manner as the Olophyxians.180

Let us return to the surviving text of the ‘Standards decree’ (only the final part of the document is preserved on the fragments). Strikingly, it is almost entirely formed of entrenchment decrees, laying out potential punishments for both allied individuals and, even more prominently, Athenians who contravene its terms. The death penalty, not previously seen in the Athenian epigraphic record, is among the punishments listed.181 Clearly, even greater limitations than those attested in the 420s were placed on the behaviour of individuals. If we associate it with the eikoste, as I think we should, we can speculate that not only did this package of empire-­wide fiscal measures further limit and demarcate community-­ level fiscal negotiations, but it also furthered the restrictions placed on the role of individual agents in the fiscal system.

177  Kallet (2001) 205–26; Kallet and Kroll (2020) 111–21. 178  I owe enormous thanks to Tolga Özhan, who let me examine this fragment of the decree. 179  IG I3 1453 = OR 155 line 10: ἐάν τις κόπτηι νόμισμα ἀργυρίο ἐν τῆσι πό[λεσι] καὶ μὴ χρῆται νομ[ίσμασιν τοῖς] Ἀθη̣[να]ίων ἢ σταθμοῖς ἢ μέτ[ροις ἀλλὰ ξενικοῖς νομίσμασι]ν καὶ σταθμοῖς καὶ [μ]έτροις . . . 180 Ar. Av. 1040–1. Wonderfully, the German scholar Wilamowitz-­Moellendorff (1880) 30 hy­pothe­sized the existence of the ‘Standards decree’, before its discovery, on the basis of this joke. 181  IG I3 1453 = OR 155 line 6.

Negotiation, Flexibility, Corruption in the Tribute System  93 Before I conclude, let me introduce a potential complication. Intriguingly, the text of the ‘Standards decree’ found on the different fragments shows slight vari­ ations. Although some scholars view them as significant,182 the majority of the variations can almost certainly be explained through the transmission process whereby the Athenian decree was sent to different allies, and then inscribed locally; small differences in the text could easily have emerged.183 One difference, however, is more difficult to explain away. The lost copy found at Smyrna contains a further ten lines after the oath of the council, referring to ‘the former decree which Klearchos proposed’.184 But the newest fragment found at Aphytis clearly shows the end of that version of the inscription, and it concluded with the oath of the council. Why did the inscribers at Smyrna feel the need to refer to another measure, while those setting up the document at Aphytis did not? Is it possible that the Athenians allowed some kind of local application or negotiation process vis-­à-­vis this empire-­wide decree? Likely, the variation in the fragments is simply due to the differing production of the respective monuments; but this speculative question is nonetheless worth raising. The synchronic development in bilateral interaction and negotiation I have tracked was not necessarily linear or tidy, and localized circumstances could still potentially exert influence.

2.5 Conclusion In the introduction to this chapter, I asked whether negotiation played a role in the Athenian tribute system, as in comparable fiscal systems. Although the evidence available to answer this question—­the record of the tribute quotas—­is fragmentary and difficult, I have shown that the tribute system throughout its history was flexible and formed of bilateral interactions, with different opportunities for allied communities to assert agency and to negotiate with the Athenians, resulting in varied statuses. While the inscribed decrees discussed in Chapter 1 have a partially rhetorical function, making it more difficult to analyse the underlying negotiation processes, the tribute quota lists were accounting documents, thus providing unequivocable evidence for this flexibility. And the flexibility was intrinsic to the system from the beginning, given the nature of assessment; it meant that the Athenians were able to adopt a laissez-­faire approach to resource extraction, by skimming off the top of existing fiscal structures. Evidence from the 430s and the 420s shows that these bilateral interactions were determined by specific regional dynamics: this manifestation of Athenian power was localized, but similar strategies, including individual assessment and

182  Kallet and Kroll (2020) 111–19. 183  Osborne and Rhodes (2017) 333–6. 184  Line 11: [κατὰ τὸ πρότε]ρον ψήφισμα ὃ Κλέαρχ[ος εἶπεν].

94  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc thus individual communication with small communities, were adopted in ­different contexts. I have also traced a development in how community-­level negotiation was conducted in the final decades of the tribute system, showing that it continued to be adapted throughout its history. This development in community-­level ne­go­ti­ ation was accompanied by increased restrictions on the activity of individual agents. There was the opportunity for the assertion of allied agency in assessment in the 430s and 420s, as attested by rubrics denoting special statuses in the tribute quota lists; the presence of these rubrics perhaps shows an attempt by the Athenians to categorize particular kinds of negotiation process. One of these rubrics, which shows individual representatives of some communities choosing to pay tribute, explicitly attests to the importance of private individuals in the fiscal negotiation process. In the 420s, the Athenians then provided a defined context for allied negotiation, using the structures of their own internal legal system. This development occurred in a climate of considerable fiscal anxiety, in which the role of individuals was restricted, and brought into the public domain. Finally, with the introduction of the eikoste at a time of even greater fiscal emergency, flexibility and variation was reduced even further. The tribute system had always been intrinsically flexible; but when it ceased to work well enough, the Athenians tried to limit this flexibility, before scrapping it altogether. The potential development in community-­level negotiation and the role of individual agents I have tracked parallels my analysis in Chapter 1, showing that the Athenians grappled with the parameters of their negotiations and the role of the individual negotiators in different contexts over the course of the century. Several threads from this chapter will also be investigated further in the rest of the book, including the operation of the tribute system in different Aegean regions, alongside other forms of surplus extraction. But, in the next chapter, I will maintain my focus on Athens itself, turning to the religious and cultural contexts of the political and fiscal negotiations I have analysed thus far, and the negotiators’ experience of their mobility to Athens.

3

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration Further, we provide plenty of means for the mind to refresh itself from business. We celebrate games and sacrifices all the year round, and the elegance of our private establishments forms a daily source of pleasure and helps to distract us from what causes distress; while the magnitude of our city draws the produce of the world into our ­harbour, so that to the Athenian the fruits of other countries are as familiar a luxury as those of his own.1 Thucydides, Periklean funeral oration

3.1 Introduction A key part of the Athenians’ self-­identity, according to a much-­quoted passage in Perikles’ funeral oration, was their celebration of games and sacrifices. Surely in no context was the veracity of Perikles’ declaration more apparent than at the Great Panathenaia, the ‘All-­Athenian’ festival celebrated every four years in the month of Hekatombaion, in honour of Athena. The focal point of the festival was the magnificent procession, formed of hundreds of people and hundreds of animals, which proceeded along the Panathenaic Way, through the agora, and up to the magnificent buildings of the Acropolis, before culminating with sacrifices to the goddess. An even larger crowd, citizens and non-­citizens, metics and foreign visitors, would have gathered to watch this spectacle. It is easy to imagine the pride, the enjoyment, and the excitement of an Athenian participant. But imagine, for a moment, the experience of a participant from an allied community. We know that allied individuals would have marched in the Panathenaic procession, from at least 425 bc onwards, because the Athenians passed multiple decrees to make sure of it.2 An allied participant would have had a long journey by sea to get to Athens, then would have been confronted by the summer heat, the intensity of the crowd, the unfamiliar monumentality of the buildings. Alongside the Athenians marching in the procession, and representatives from every single 1  Thuc. 2.38.

2  See section 3.2 below.

Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc. Leah Lazar, Oxford University Press. © Leah Lazar 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198896265.003.0004

96  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc other allied community, he would have brought offerings to the Athenian Athena. Would his forced participation in this imperial spectacle have inspired resentment? Would he have felt fear, when confronted by the scale of Athenian wealth and power? Or perhaps he would have been awed by the majesty and beauty of the ritual? If so, would he have felt part of a community joined in worship of Athena? Is it even possible that, like an Athenian, he would have felt excitement or enjoyment? These questions may seem like an irrelevant and speculative departure from my focus in the first two chapters on the political and fiscal negotiations between the Athenians and allied communities, and indeed from the stated aim of this monograph. But political and fiscal negotiations would not have occurred in a vacuum. The allied representatives who came to Athens to engage in diplomatic activity would have had varied interactions with the Athenians. In particular, Athenian festivals would have provided a focal point for multivalent allied mobility at the interface of Athenian political, religious, and honorific cultures. That is to say, our allied participant marching in the Panathenaic procession may also have been in Athens to make the case in an Athenian court for a lower tribute assessment for his community, to negotiate with the Athenian council for pol­it­ical concessions, or to be honoured by the Athenians. He surely would not have perceived his role in the procession, and the response it provoked in him, sep­ar­ate­ly from his other activities in Athens as a representative of his community. Allied interaction with the Athenians thus needs to be viewed in a more holistic light than the strictly political and fiscal aspects I have explored so far.3 In this third chapter, I will first outline the different ways in which Athenian festivals facilitated interaction between the Athenians and allied individuals, likely members of the inter­-polis elite network I laid out in Chapter 1. I will focus in particular on the two most high-­profile Athenian festivals, the Great Panathenaia and City Dionysia. It will be my contention that the diverse experiences of allied representatives at these festivals potentially mattered for the shape of their communities’ diverse relations with the Athenians; as it would have been the same individuals, or at least individuals from the same milieux, who would have led both religious and ambassadorial delegations to a significant extent. Unfortunately, I will come up against the paucity of direct fifth-­century evidence for the allied perspective; and so, in the second half of the chapter, I will turn to later evidence of interaction between the Athenians and their former allies in the context of Athenian festivals. I will ask to what extent these sources (a series of fourth-­century and Hellenistic honorific decrees from Priene, and, perhaps more unexpectedly, a fragmentary Roman inscription attesting to fourth-­century 3  See Smarczyk (1990) for a previous exploration of the overlap between the religious and the political in the Athenian empire.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  97 Rhodian theatrical culture) can provide insights into the allied experience of Athenian festival culture in the fifth century, and its impact on their political relationships. These inscriptions, moreover, will allow for broader ex­plor­ation of the Athenian cultural influence evident in some allied communities. If we view the Athenian democratic model as a multivalent cultural package, experienced by the mobile elite individuals who also exercised influence in their home communities, we can begin to reconstruct the role of these individuals not only as political negotiators, but also as agents of cultural change.

3.2  Athenian Festivals and Allied Mobility But what do I mean when I say that Athenian festivals were focal points of allied mobility? In what ways did allied representatives interact with the Athenians in festival contexts? A brief survey of the available evidence will show that the Athenians encouraged or ordered allied mobility during festivals in a number of ways; but that not all allied involvement in Athenian festivals was mandated by the Athenians, nor was it limited to narrow participation in certain religious ­rit­uals. Different allied representatives may have participated in different ways. Moreover, while the evidence for diachronic development is difficult, as always, it is perhaps possible to discern an increased Athenian concern with allied festival attendance in the 420s bc, around the time they increased control of political and fiscal negotiations, and of the individual negotiators. In the busy Athenian sacred calendar, the two most prominent festivals, with the most inter-polis reach, were the Great Panathenaia and Dionysia. The Great Panathenaia, the all-­Athenian civic festival in honour of the city’s patron goddess Athena, was celebrated in the first month of the year, Hekatombaion, around our August.4 Most years, it was a local celebration (the Little Panathenaia), but every four years it was on a larger scale, with an inter-polis audience (the Great Panathenaia).5 It consisted of nocturnal choruses (the evidence for which is rather minimal),6 before the famous procession (possibly depicted on the enigmatic Parthenon frieze; see Figure 3.1 and the cover image),7 and sacrifices for the goddess.8 Musical and athletic competitions were then held on subsequent

4  Shear’s 2021 volume on the Panathenaia provides an invaluable introduction to the festival and lays out the various categories of relevant evidence, both textual and material. 5  Shear (2021) 116. 6  Shear (2021) 98–9. 7  For the procession, see Shear (2021) 118–48. There is extensive bibliography on the subject of the Parthenon frieze. For a description of the frieze and a summary of the varied interpretations, see, for example, Jenkins (1994) 21–30; recently Shear (2021) appendix 2 has reiterated the arguments identifying the procession in the frieze as Panathenaic. 8  Shear (2021) 148–56.

98  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

Figure 3.1  North frieze of Parthenon, block 6, depicting water-­bearers in procession (442–438 bc). © Acropolis Museum, 2011, photograph by Socratis Mavrommatis.

days.9 Certain parts of the rituals and games were only accessible to Athenian citizens, but others were open to non-­citizen and foreign participants.10 The City Dionysia, meanwhile, was celebrated in Elaphebolion, at the end of March, just after the seas reopened and the city once again filled with non-­ Athenian visitors.11 There was a procession and sacrifice on the tenth day of the month, before a number of days of theatrical performances: first the tragic competition, then the comic performances (both amply attested by surviving plays), and finally the dithyrambic choruses presented by the different Athenian tribes.12 Other rituals took place around the dramatic competitions, including, at least by the fourth century, a parade of war orphans,13 and, as I will discuss in the next section, by the end of the fifth century, the announcement of crowns for honorands. Both these festivals provided a focal point for activity and mobility on the part of allies, and non-­Athenians more broadly. Some of this mobility might be 9  Shear (2021) chapter 5. 10  Parker (2007) 256; see Shear (2021) chapter 7 for the differentiated participation of citizens, non-­citizens, metics, and foreigners. 11  Csapo and Wilson (2020) 607. The City Dionysia should be distinguished from the Dionysia festivals celebrated in the Attic demes in the winter. 12 Pickard-­Cambridge (1968) 63–8. For the importance of the festival for civic identity, see Goldhill (1987). 13  Isoc. 8.82.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  99 described as ‘religious’ in a narrow sense, namely the participation of allied individuals in the rituals of Athenian festivals. For example, a number of much-­ discussed inscribed decrees mandate that individual allied communities send delegations with offerings.14 The earliest decree concerns the Ionian polis of Erythrai in western Anatolia and likely dates to the 450s bc.15 The Athenians, it seems, were reintegrating the Erythraians after a revolt resulting from internal political division.16 The main body of the decree orders political changes to be implemented in Erythrai, as briefly discussed in Chapter 1, but the fragmentary beginning of the text focuses on Erythraian participation in the Panathenaia: The Erythraians shall bring grain to the Great Panathenaia, to the value of not less than three minas, and distribute it to those of the Erythraians who are present.17

The decree thus not only assumes that an Erythraian delegation would bring grain to the Athenian festival but also, it seems, that there would be other citizens of Erythrai present to share in the distribution. This provision is not preserved for any other community; this offering of grain may have been unique to the Erythraians. If so, it is possible that this stipulation was a privilege, allowing the Erythraians to honour the goddess in a visibly distinct way. Alternatively, as suggested by Julia Shear, it may have demarcated lesser (vegetarian) participation for the Erythraians than for other communities, which got a share of the meat, a punishment in tune with the generally punitive contents of the decree.18 Other evidence, as I will explore, implies that there was perhaps a hierarchy of inclusion in the rituals of the festival for allied representatives. A second decree makes arrangements for the (unlocated) Athenian colony of Brea in the North Aegean and is probably dated a few decades later to the 430s bc; it stipulates that the colonists are to ‘bring a cow and a panoply (?) to the Great Panathenaia, and to the Dionysia a phallos’ (note that ‘panoply’ is heavily restored).19 These offerings presumably would have been paraded in the festivals’ respective processions by representatives of the colony.20 Less secure evidence is  provided by a highly fragmentary, undated Athenian decree concerning Kolophon, an Ionian city not far from Erythrai; it contains at least one certain

14  For a classic overview of Athenian imperial religious practices, see Meiggs (1972) chapter 16. 15  IG I3 14 = OR 121 = AIO 296, revised edition by Malouchou (2014). 16  There are references to exiles who have fled to the Persians at line 26, and tyrants at line 33. 17  Lines 2–4: [Ἐρ]-|[υθραί]ος ἀπάγεν̣ σ[ῖ]το[ν ἐς] Παναθέναια τὰ με̣γ ̣άλ̣α̣ ἄ̣[χσιον μὲ ὀλέ]-|[ζον]ος ἒ τρῖον μν͂ον καὶ νέμε̣[ν] Ἐρυθραίον [τ]ο[ῖ]ς παρ͂οσι. 18  Shear (2021) 164, 290; as Driscoll (2018) 149 notes, the choice of verb (ἀπάγειν) is more generally used for tribute and other compulsory contributions, so implies a level of obligation. 19  IG I3 46 = OR 142 lines 15–17: βοῦν δὲ καὶ π̣[ανℎοπλ]-|[ίαν ἀπά]γεν ἐς Παναθέναια τὰ μεγάλ[α καὶ ἐς Δ]|[ιονύσι]α φαλλόν. The restoration of ‘panoply’ is based on a series of fourth-­century inscriptions (including SEG 31.67= RO 29) discussed in section 3.3.1. 20  Parker (2007) 180.

100  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc reference to theoria, the sending of a religious delegation, suggesting its contents perhaps related to Kolophonian participation in Athenian festivals.21 Next, two decrees, in an apparently new development of the mid-­420s bc, require that all allied communities bring offerings to the Panathenaia. Thoudippos’ decree of 425/4 bc, which, as we saw in the last chapter, reorganized the tribute assessment system and set new levels of assessment, made a demand which was presumably novel, given its explicit inclusion in the decree (note again that the ‘panoply’ is heavily restored): Those cities for which tribute was assessed under the Council for which Pleistias was first secretary, in the archonship of Stratokles, shall all bring a cow and panoply (?) to the Great Panathenaia; and they shall take part in the procession . . .22

Likely in the following year, Kleinias proposed a decree tightening up tribute collection, and the offerings were referred to again: ‘and if anyone does wrong with regard to the bringing of the cow and panoply (?) . . .’.23 It is possible that not all allied communities responded to the new stipulation of Thoudippos, hence the need for reinforcement by Kleinias. Given the lack of specifics in both decrees, we might imagine that there could have been variation in the offerings brought by different allied communities, in the size of the cow, or the decoration of the panoplies. The Panathenaia would not have been the only festival attended by representatives from all allied communities. As we saw in Chapter  1, we know from Aristophanes’ Acharnians, and a scholiast referring to his lost play Babylonians, that allied representatives actually brought the tribute to Athens at the time of the Dionysia, a requirement conceivably in place since the movement of the treasury to Athens in the middle of the century.24 The fourth-­ century logographos Isokrates, in a contested passage, claims that the tribute was even paraded around the theatre.25 The tribute quota lists, as I have already discussed, show how a

21  IG I3 43 line 9. 22  IG I3 71 = OR 153 = AIO 959 lines 55–8: ℎοπόσ-|[εσι πό]λεσι φόρος [ἐτάχ]θ̣[ε ἐπὶ τ]͂ες [βολ͂ες ℎ͂ει Πλειστί]ας πρ͂οτος [ἐγρα]μμάτευε ἐπὶ Στρατοκ-|[λέος ἄ]ρχοντος β͂ο̣[ν καὶ πανℎοπ]λ[ίαν ἀπάγεν ἐς Παναθ]έναια τὰ με̣[γάλα] ℎαπάσας· πεμπόντον δ[ὲ ἐν] τ̣͂ει πομπ͂ει [… . . . 11 . . . . .]κ[ . . . .]. Note that the IG edition includes an unsupported supplement, originating in earlier editions, that the allies walk in the procession ‘like colonists’ ([καθάπερ ἄποι]κ[οι]); again, this restoration is based on a fourth-­ century decree (SEG 31.67= RO 29), which will be discussed in section 3.3.1. 23  IG I3 34 = OR 154 = AIUK 4.2 no. 5 lines 41–2: [καὶ ἐ]άν τις περὶ τὲν ἀπα̣[γογὲ]-|ν τ͂ες βοὸς ἒ [τ͂ες πανℎοπλία]ς̣ ἀδικε͂ι . . . 24 Ar. Ach. 505–6; Eupolis fr. 254 (Storey); see Chapter 1.1. It is commonly assumed (e.g. Wilson (2009) 17) that these passages imply the public display of the tribute in the theatre; on my in­ter­pret­ ation, this parade is only implied by the fourth-­century Isokrates (see below), and cannot be con­ sidered an absolute historical certainty. 25  Isoc. 8.82 with Meiggs (1972) endnote 19.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  101 sixtieth portion of each allied community’s tribute payment, the aparchai or first-­fruits, was dedicated to Athena, another obligatory offering to an Athenian deity. Even when exempted from the majority of their tribute payment, the Methoneans were still required to send the sixtieth portion, and presumably thus also to be present at the Dionysia.26 The introduction of the universal 5 per cent harbour tax in 413 bc, however, would have presumably done away with this form of allied mobility.27 I should note that the city of Athens was not the only focus of enforced allied religious mobility. The Attic sanctuary of Eleusis, and its famous Mysteries, had a cultic ‘catchment area’ beyond Attica by the first half of the century, as shown by inscribed regulations with inter-polis reach found in the sanctuary.28 By the second half of the century, some of this mobility was mandated. A rare empire-­wide decree, usually dated by scholars to the 430s bc, but sometimes to the 420s, concerns offerings at Eleusis.29 It orders offerings of grain, first-­fruits (aparchai), from the Attic demes and allied communities,30 then invites offerings from all the other Greeks present at the Mysteries, and from Greek cities more broadly.31 Beyond Attica, the Athenians attempted in various ways to dominate the substantial pre-­existing religious mobility focused on the island sanctuary of Apollo at Delos.32 Athenian interest in Delos originated under the Peisistratid tyrants in the second half of the sixth century;33 it was then immediately renewed after the Athenian takeover of the anti-­Persian alliance in 478 bc with the establishment of the allied treasury on the island.34 The archaeological record also shows the expenditure of Athenian resources at the sanctuary in the first half of the century, including the (uncompleted) building of a new temple.35 After the treasury was moved to Athens, the Athenians maintained at least partial control of sanctuary finances,36 and in 426/5 established (or, as Thucydides claims, re-­established) games with choral competitions.37 26  IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 7–9. 27  See Chapter 2.4. 28  IG I3 6 = OR 106 = AIUK 4.2 no. 1. 29  IG I3 78 = OR 141. For a detailed commentary on this complex and enigmatic decree, see Cavanaugh (1996) 29–98. 30  IG I3 78 = OR 141 lines 4–24. 31  Lines 24–36. Jim (2014) 210 suggests that these measures were not simply ‘religious’ in nature but had real importance for the unstable Athenian grain supply. 32  The pre-­existing religious importance of Delos, and the dynamics of Athens’s attempted dom­in­ ation of the island in the fifth century, have been illuminated by the important contributions of Kowalzig (2007) chapter 2 and Constantakopoulou (2007); see also Chankowski (2008) for a detailed history of Athenian intervention at Delos. 33  For Peisistratos’ purification of the island, see Hdt. 1.64.2 and Thuc. 3.104.1–2; for Peisistratos’ support of the tyrant of nearby Naxos, see Hdt. 1.64.2; Constantakopoulou (2007) 63–6; Chankowski (2008) 10–14. 34  Thuc. 1.96.2. 35  Constantakopoulou (2007) 69. 36  Delian temple accounts dated as early as 434 bc show Athenian involvement (OR 147 = ID 89); see Chankowski (2008) 149–518. 37  For the Athenian establishment of the games, and associated purification of the island, see Thuc. 3.104 with Thuc 1.8.1; see also Thuc. 5.1 for the Athenian expulsion of the Delians in 422 bc.

102  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Not all contact with Athenian cult would necessarily have required mobility: allies may also have encountered Athenian cults in their home communities. Boundary markers referring to Athenian cults, including ‘Athena who rules Athens’, have been found at Samos, Aegina, Chalkis, and Kos;38 these have often been interpreted as showing the imposition of Athenian cult on allied communities. Robert Parker counters, convincingly in my view, that these stones rather indicate imperial land ownership on the part of Athenian cults, rather than religious practice.39 However, if we take the markers as showing the actual presence of Athenian cult abroad, then they do not necessarily attest to top-­down export, but could possibly show voluntary adoption. I will return to this interpretation below. The Athenians, then, mandated allied religious mobility and participation in the rituals of their festivals, especially in the demand for certain offerings. While the presence of allies in Athens for the Dionysia would have possibly been required as early as the middle of the century (before presumably being dropped in 413 bc), we also see increased demands for allied attendance at the Panathenaia, Delos, and possibly Eleusis in the 420s bc.

3.2.1  Athletes and Ambassadors Scholars have sometimes viewed this mandated religious participation as a key example of overt Athenian imperial imposition.40 It is clear, however, from the choruses at Delos, the Greek initiates at Eleusis, and the Erythraian recipients of grain distributions at the Panathenaia, that allied and non-­Athenian religious activity in Athenian-­controlled festival contexts was much broader and more extensive than the delegations bringing compulsory offerings. The fragmentary fifth-­century decree concerning the Euboian community of Histiaia, in a section concerned with fees for ferry transport from the island to the mainland sanctuary of Oropos, possibly implements half-­price fares for those attending religious processions, granting a further insight into the scale of regularized religious mobility (and the Athenians’ concern with this mobility).41 When considering allied mobility to Athenian festivals, moreover, we need to think beyond the strictly ‘religious’. Allied athletes and musicians may have participated in certain competitions at the Panathenaic games, open to non-­ Athenians; certainly, Athenian Panathenaic amphorae, which were awarded to victors, have been found in many locations.42 In fact, to my knowledge, the earliest testimony we have for a specific allied visitor to the Panathenaia, from the first 38  Barron (1964) with IG I3 1481–99, 1502. 39  Parker (1996) 144–5. 40  See again Meiggs (1972) chapter 16, tellingly entitled ‘Religious Sanctions’. 41  IG I3 41 = AIUK 4.2 no. 3 lines 64–5; for an alternative interpretation of these lines as referring to the transport of grain, see Moreno (2007) 116. 42  Shear (2021) 414–38 provides lists of all known examples of Panathenaic amphorae.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  103 half of the fifth century, is for Diagoras of Rhodes, whose victory in the men’s boxing competition is mentioned by Pindar in his seventh Olympian ode.43 It is also notable that political or fiscal negotiations between foreign ambassadors and Athenian political bodies or representatives often took place at the time of festivals.44 Thucydides, in his treaty-­heavy fifth book, records one between Athens and Sparta that requires Spartan envoys to travel to Athens to renew oaths at the time of the Dionysia,45 another between Athens, Argos, Elis, and Mantineia that asks for envoys to come from these communities ten days before the Panathenaia.46 Moreover, tribute reassessments (which, as I explored in the last chapter, would require the presence of allied representatives) occurred at the time of the Great Panathenaia.47 This is made clear in the first decree for the allied community of Methone, which also specifies that the Macedonian king Perdikkas and the Methoneans were to send embassies to the Dionysia.48 When Aristophanes in his Babylonians mocked the Athenians for succumbing to the persuasion of allied representatives, as I discussed at the opening of Chapter 1, real-­life representatives were perhaps present at the time of the play’s performance during the Dionysia, and even in the audience.49 No doubt more informal political negotiations also occurred around the times of festivals, whether in Athens, or at Eleusis or Delos, where elite and influential Athenians led delegations.50 Thucydides embellishes a pertinent example, at least in a non-­Athenian context, with a direct speech, when his Mytileneans plead for Spartan support at the time of the Olympic games, seemingly outside of any formal assembly or meeting.51 For individuals in a private capacity, inter-polis social gatherings were also organized around festival times: Sokrates, Plato writes, met Zeno and Parmenides when the Elean philosophers came to Athens for the Great Panathenaia.52 The status of Athenian festivals as focal points for various kinds of allied and other non-­Athenian mobility is implied by the Thucydidean Perikles in his funeral oration, as we saw at the beginning of this chapter.53 He eulogizes Athenian festival culture in the same breath as the numerous and diverse imports flooding into the Piraeus, suggesting a potential connection between religious activity and inter-polis mobility. Both the Piraeus’s status as a focal point for trade and Athens’s as a focal point for religion were part of Athenian self-­perceived centrality in the Aegean. By the fourth century, Isokrates picks up more explicitly on this theme in his Panegyrikos; he notes the splendour and scale of Athenian 43 Pind. Ol. 7.80–2. 44  Noted by Parker (2007) 254. 45  Thuc. 5.23.4. 46  Thuc. 5.47.10. 47  IG I3 71 = OR 153 = AIO 959 line 27; IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 7–8; 31–2. 48  IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 24–5. 49  See Chapter 1.1. 50  For an evocative account of elite leadership of an Athenian religious delegation to Delos, see Plutarch’s description of Nikias’ Delian theoria (Plut. Nic. 3.4–6). 51  Thuc. 3.8–15. 52 Pl. Prm. 127 B with Parker (2007) 254. 53  Thuc. 2.38; see also Xen. [Ath. Pol.] 3.8, with Rutherford (2013) 319.

104  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc festivals, and implies that they received many willing visitors.54 Significant festival dates in the Athenian sacred calendar, then, presumably even more so by the 420s, would have seen Athens and other Athenian-­controlled sacred spaces full of allies and other non-­Athenians, present to participate in a large variety of ­religious, cultural, political, and even social activities. It is notable that the Athenians appear to have mandated new mobility to Athenian-­controlled religious spaces at exactly the same time they were circumscribing fiscal and political negotiations in new ways; there is a notable emphasis on allied representatives being present and interacting with the Athenians in defined contexts.

3.2.2  From Cows to Crowns: Honorific Culture and Allied Elites This mass of citizens and visitors would also have provided a large audience for another key component of Athenian festivals that entailed non-­Athenian mobility, at least by the end of the century: the award, announcement, and display of honours for foreigners, including allies. Here, the evidence for much of the fifth century is exiguous and difficult, and we have to rely to a certain extent on later (and no less problematic) sources. By the final decades of the fifth century, however, we can state with certainty that the Dionysia served as a context for the public honouring of foreigners. Consider the decree of 410/9 bc awarding honours to Thrasyboulos of Kalydon (in Arcadia in the Peloponnese): To praise Thrasyboulos, who is a good man concerning the Athenian People and keen to do all the good he can; and in return for the good he has done for the Athenian [city or Council] and People, to crown him with a gold crown; and to make the crown from a thousand drachmas; and let the Greek treasurers give the money; and [to announce at the Dionysia] in the competition [for tragedies] the reason why the People crowned him.55

Thrasyboulos was awarded a crown, we are told, and the reasons for his crowning were to be announced to the large, inter-polis audience present at the tragic competition at the Dionysia (the decree is fragmentary in these lines but the

54  Isoc. 4.46. 55  IG I3 102 = OR 182 lines 6–14: [ἐπαινέσα]ι Θρασύβολον ὁς ὄντα ἄνδρα ἀγαθὸ-|[ν περὶ τὸν δ͂εμ]ον τὸν Ἀθεναίον καὶ πρόθυμον π-|[οῖεν ℎό τι δύνα]ται ἀγαθόν· καὶ ἀντὶ ℎ͂ον εὖ πεπο-|[ίεκεν τέν τε πόλιν or βολέν] καὶ τὸν δ͂εμ̣[ο]ν τὸν Ἀθεναίο-|[ν στεφαν͂οσαι αὐτὸν χρυσ͂οι στε]φάνοι, ποῖεσα-|[ι δὲ τὸν στέφανον ἀπὸ χιλίον δρ]αχμ͂ον· ℎοι [δὲ ℎ-|ελλενοταμίαι δόντον τὸ ἀργύρι]ον. καὶ [ἀνειπ]-|[͂εν Διονυσίον τραγοιδ͂ον ἐν τ͂οι] ἀγ͂ονι ℎ͂ον ℎέν|[εκα αὐτὸν ℎο δ͂εμος ἐστεφάνοσ]ε ⋮

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  105 res­tor­ation is likely).56 A second decree inscribed on the same stone goes further, awarding Thrasyboulos citizenship, and some of his associates other honours.57 Unfortunately, one cannot make generalized assumptions on the basis of this inscription, as this is the first time these honours are attested in the surviving Athenian epigraphic record, and possibly the first time they were awarded.58 No doubt the circumstances of the award were unprecedented: Thrasyboulos, we know from Lysias, was one of the assassins of the Athenian oligarch Phrynichos, and he was honoured by the restored democracy after the abolition of the regime of the 400.59 His honouring at the Dionysia, as Peter Wilson argues, was only one of a number of events that made that year’s festival hold particular resonance for the democratic demos, recovering from the trauma of the oligarchical coup.60 We can also perhaps situate this honorific innovation, and its record in an inscription, in the context of the increased bestowal of honours by the Athenians more generally in the final years of the century, which I discussed in Chapter 1. After Thrasyboulos, the inclusion of the award of crowns and their public announcement in inscribed honorific decrees for foreigners is not especially common, and is often reserved for prominent individuals. There are two further fifth-­century examples, however, including an unusually detailed decree for one Epikerdes of Kyrene, who is said to have made a monetary contribution to save some Athenians from starvation in Sicily.61 The honorific decree of 403/2 bc for the allied community of Samos awards a crown, but no explicit announcement, to one of its citizens, Poses.62 Surviving fourth-­century instances include a decree of 394/3 bc honouring King Evagoras of Cypriot Salamis (more on this in Chapter 5), in which he is granted a gold crown (probably) at the Dionysia;63 and a decree of 347/6 bc for the rulers of the Kimmerian Bosporos, who are to be crowned with a golden crown at every Great Panathenaia (one measly crown at one measly festival was clearly not enough for these patrons of the Athenian grain supply).64 While the bestowal of crowns and the announcement of the award in the assembly or at a festival competition became more common in the fourth-­ century epigraphic record in general, they were honours more often recorded for

56  For the (in my opinion convincing) inclusion of a specific reference to the tragic competition in the restoration, see Wilson (2009); Wilson and Hartwig (2009). 57  IG I3 102 = OR 182 lines 14–38. 58  Wilson (2009). 59  Lys. 13.70–2 names Thrasyboulos, along with Apollodoros of Megara, as does Lycurg. Leoc. 112; by contrast, Thucydides’ narrative (8.92.2) identifies an Athenian guardsman, with an Argive ­accomplice, as the assassin. 60  Wilson (2009); see also Shear (2011) 147–54. 61  IG I3 125 (405 bc) for Epikerdes of Kyrene with MacDowell (2004); IG II2 2 frag. b (403 bc). 62  IG II2 1 = RO 2 = AIO 796 lines 60, 69. 63  IG II2 20 + add. p. 656 = RO 11 = AIUK 4.2 no. 7. See Chapter 5.2.6. 64  IG II3 1 298 = RO 64. See Chapter 6.2.1.

106  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Athenian citizens.65 It is likely, however, judging by fourth-­century oratorical sources, that they would have been awarded much more routinely than surviving inscriptions suggest.66 Moreover, the fifth-­century oligarchic coups caused a significant shift in the democratic use and display of inscribed monuments;67 so there is a possibility that crowns would have been announced in festivals earlier than Thrasyboulos, and simply not recorded. Even if the award and announcement of crowns was an innovation conditioned by the particular political climate of the post-­410 democracy, and perhaps part of the broader honorific turn explored in Chapter 1, there is perhaps more circumstantial evidence for the earlier bestowal of crowns to foreigners (either to hon­or­ ands or agonistic victors), and for the subsequent dedication of these crowns back to the Athenian Athena; or for the presentation of new crowns to Athena by foreigners, perhaps in the context of the Panathenaia. As early as the 430s bc, inscribed accounts show abundant crowns, mostly made of gold, stored in Athenian temple treasuries.68 By the end of the century, the inscribed inventories become more loquacious, and some crowns are explicitly recorded as having been dedicated by foreigners, including individuals from former allied communities. Hierokles of Phaselis, for instance, dedicated a gold crown first recorded in the Hekatompedon (a term which seems to refer to the cella of the Parthenon)69 in 401/0 bc.70 Some crowns are identified as having been won in the Panathenaic games: as early as 402/1 bc we hear that the polis dedicated the prize crown to Athena when there was a tie in the kitharoidos competition.71 Detailed accounting became even more common in the fourth-­ century records. A few entries make it clear that the Athenians had awarded the crowns in the first instance, before the honorands gave them back to the Athenian goddess, in a cycle of honour and dedication.72 The 347/6 bc decree for the rulers of the Kimmerian Bosporos, mentioned above, certainly makes this cycle explicit, and 65  Lambert (2018) chapter 2 lays out how fourth-­century Athenian epigraphic culture was more interested in the inscription of honours for Athenians than for foreigners. Note, however, that inscribed honorific decrees for foreigners are attested almost a century before those for Athenian citizens: see Lambert (2004). Domingo-­Gygax (2016) 144–8 argues that the proceeds of empire may have made domestic elite benefaction less necessary for Athens in the fifth century, resulting in fewer domestic honours; note, however, that there are fifth-­century references to the awarding of crowns, for example Peisthetairos’ crowning in Aristophanes’ Birds (lines 1274–5). 66 Lambert (2018) 55–6; Liddel (2020b) 64, on the basis of Dem. 18.120, argues that public announcement of honours may even have been routine. Chaniotis (2007) 54–9 unpacks what the ritual announcement of crowns in theatres may have actually looked liked. 67  Brilliantly shown by Shear (2011) chapter 3; see also Lazar (2023). 68  The reorganization of temple finances ordered by the second financial decree in IG I3 52 = OR 144 triggered the inception of these inscribed inventories. For the fifth-­century inventories, see IG I3 292–362. Harris (1995) provides full lists of dedications in the inventories by object type: for the fifth-­ century crowns in the Hekatompedon, for instance, see pp. 178–83. 69  See OR 169. 70  IG II2 1386 lines 7–9. 71  SEG 23.82 lines 30–1 (402/1 bc), restored on the basis of a later entry (IG II2 1407 lines 33–4): στέφανος χρυσ͂ο̣[ς τὰ | νικητήρια τ͂ο κιθαρωιδ͂ο]. 72  For example IG II2 1491 lines 8–15.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  107 further notes that the crowns would be dedicated to Athena Polias by the games-­ masters in the context of the Panathenaia.73 The act of dedication, whether in the festival context or not, would have been ritualized and visible. The frustratingly laconic fifth-­century inventories, then, possibly conceal three kinds of allied or foreign involvement: first, the Athenian honouring of foreign benefactors with crowns; second, the award of crowns to foreign victors in the games; and finally, the foreign dedication of crowns to Athena, feasibly during the Panathenaia.74 Allied integration into Athenian festival culture through honours could perhaps also have taken other forms. There is no explicit evidence, to my knowledge, for proedria (preferential seating at performances) being awarded to foreign hon­ or­ands by the Athenians before the fourth century:75 the first example from the epigraphic record is the 394/3 bc decree for Evagoras of Salamis.76 However, the practice of assigning preferential seating to foreigners at games is attested as early as the sixth century bc at Olympia;77 and we know from Aristophanes that the Athenian Kleon was awarded this honour at Athens in the 420s bc.78 It is certainly possible that the honour was awarded to non-­Athenians at Athens in the fifth century. Further, if the honours awarded to foreigners were inscribed and displayed at Athens, then the resulting monument would have been erected in the sacred space of the Acropolis, which would no doubt have been most frequently visited around the time of festivals.79 The Panathenaic procession and sacrifices would have brought many visitors up to the sanctuary. The memory of the honours, not just the honours themselves, would thus be accessed in religious space, and especially in festival contexts. All in all, despite the difficulties of the evidence, it is clear that by the final decade of the fifth century, if not before, allied individuals would have engaged with Athenian honorific culture in the context of Athenian festivals. A few prominent foreign or allied individuals may have received honours; more commonly, allied spectators may have witnessed honours being awarded, another aspect of their potentially differentiated and hierarchical participation in the festivals. Allies may also have presented dedications to Athena in festival contexts, perhaps as a result of their own honouring. We can thus add these activities to our picture of varied allied participation at the Dionysia and Panathenaia, at least for the final years of the century. By the time the Athenians had abolished the tribute, and thus the

73  IG II3 1 298 = RO 64 lines 33–6. 74  Shear (2021) 161. 75  See Henry (1983) 275–93 for fourth-­century examples; Xenophon, at Poroi 3.4, suggests the proedria be awarded to traders to encourage them to come to Athens. 76  IG II2 20 + add. p. 656 = RO 11 = AIUK 4.2 no. 7 lines 19–20. 77  Two seats at Olympia from the sixth and fifth centuries bc have inscriptions reserving them for Spartan proxenoi of the Eleans: see LSAG 199 no. 15 and SEG 26.476 with Mack (2015) 125. 78 Ar. Eq. 573–6, 702. See Domingo-­Gygax (2016) 181–2. 79  For the Acropolis as the primary place of display for fifth-­century public inscriptions, see again Liddel (2003) 79–81.

108  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc associated allied mobility to the Dionysia, Athenian honorific culture may have provided another reason for non-­Athenian participation at the festival. But who were these foreign participants travelling to Athens to participate in Athenian festivals? The prominence of the individuals awarded crowns is telling: these honorands were elites with private wealth, and inter-polis connections. I have already made the case in Chapter 1 for allied ambassadorial missions being dominated by elite individuals, who were increasingly honoured by the Athenian demos; and in Chapter  2 for the importance of prominent individuals in fiscal negotiations. In fact, if the idiotai denoted by the idiotai rubric (see Chapter 2.2) had to come to Athens to volunteer their communities for tribute payments, then we already know of mobile and wealthy allied representatives present in Athens during the time of the Panathenaia. We also have explicit evidence, in one case, for the elite profile of a particular allied competitor in the Panathenaic Games. Diagoras of Rhodes, who, as we know from Pindar, competed in the boxing competition probably in the 460s bc, came from a prominent Rhodian family with long-­lasting political influence: his son, according to Diodorus, was involved in the late-­century oligarchical coup on the island.80 He was clearly part of an inter­ nation­ally mobile elite; he competed at different games, and was able to hire Pindar to compose panegyric poetry in his honour.81 It is likely that the same milieu would, to a significant extent, have supplied at least the leadership of allied religious delegations. On the Athenian side, where we have evidence, we know that theoriai were often led by elite individuals with private means, who provided funding through liturgical contributions and pos­ sibly acted as architheoroi.82 It is possible that some of the allied and foreign hon­ or­ands in the surviving Athenian decrees of the fifth century were theoroi, as proxeny and other honorific institutions had considerable overlap with theoria in later periods.83 Unfortunately, most Athenian honorific decrees for individuals are frustratingly laconic in the fifth century. But the link is perhaps already present in the decree for Kolophon, mentioned above; the text is fragmentary, but it

80 Pind. Ol. 7; Diod. Sic. 13.38.5 with Hornblower (2004) 135. 81  See Kowalzig (2007) chapter 5. 82  For example, Lysias (21.5) puts ἀρχιθεωρία in a list of liturgies; Andokides (1.132) refers to the leading of delegations to the Isthmus and Olympia as liturgies; see again Plut. Nic. 3.4–6; Rutherford (2013) 163–5, 215–17 (with later non-­Athenian evidence for architheoria as a liturgy). Note, however, that fourth-­century inscribed accounts from Delos show that the Athenian Amphiktiones (the magistrates in charge of temple finances) may have contributed towards the costs of theoria (IG II2 1635 = RO 28 A = AIUK 3 no. 3 lines 34 with Dillon (1997) 127; Rutherford (2013) 216). Further, more general participation in theoria would been less socio-­economically restricted: Aristophanes, for example, implies that it was a perk of bouleutic service (see Ar. Vesp. 1188 with Parker (2007) 79). 83  See, for example, IG II3 1 1137 for a later Athenian decree granting proxeny to a Kydonian theoros on his way to Delphi, with Mack (2015) 29–32; 256.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  109 is possible that the Kolophonian theoroi were invited to hospitality in the council house (note also that this was an explicit context of inter-polis social interaction).84 To tie these disparate threads together, and to come back to my primary focus: allied individuals, likely to a significant extent elites, came to Athens in large numbers during festival times. They shared in various aspects of Athenian pol­it­ ical, religious, and honorific cultures, both as participants and spectators; their participation may have been differentiated. It is notable, moreover, that the Athenians mandated new kinds of allied participation in their festivals around the 420s bc, certainly at the Panathenaia and the Delia.85 While we should not ignore the empire-­wide, restrictive implications of Thoudippos’ decree, which uniformly demanded allied religious offerings, this new mandate, on a practical level, would also have brought more allied representatives to Athens. The festivals would have provided for inter-polis elite networking en masse. The public announcement or bestowal of honours for prominent individuals may also have increasingly been a feature of festivals in the final years of the century, a phenomenon likely associated with the increased use of honours in Athenian interaction with allies more broadly. While, as always, we should be cautious about imposing diachronic analysis on the lacunose evidence, it is possible that the Athenians, from around the 420s, provided more settings in their festivals for inter-polis elite interaction, alongside the demarcation of other forms of negotiation; and, later, that their increased bestowal of honours on elite individuals made its mark on festival contexts. Allied mobility to Athenian festivals took on diverse forms, then. But what did this mobility mean to the allied individuals and their communities? And how did their participation shape their relations with the Athenians and Athenian power?

3.3  Allied Responses to Athenian Festivals So far, I have laid out the multivalent ways in which allied individuals, and other foreigners, participated in Athenian festivals over the course of the fifth century, at the interface of Athenian religious, political, and honorific cultures; and I have argued that these individuals, to a significant extent, would have been of elite status with personal connections and wealth. The profile of the allied individuals, and the activities in which they engaged, would have impacted their experiences of Athenian festivals. But what did these experiences actually look like?

84  IG I3 43 lines 20–1: [καλέσα]-|[ι δὲ τὸς ?θεορ]ὸς ἐς τὸ πρ[υτανεῖον ἐπὶ χσένια ἐς αὔριον] (‘call the theoroi to hospitality tomorrow’). These lines are, evidently, highly fragmentary. However, the survival of the ος ending (i.e. ους in the Ionic alphabet) shows the presence of a first-­declension noun, and thus implies that the usual third-­declension πρέσβες (‘envoys’) cannot be restored. 85  Kowalzig (2007) 116–17.

110  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc No doubt allied individuals who participated in Athenian festival rituals would have been aware of the unequal power dynamic between the Athenians and the allies. In particular, the conflation between allied religious offerings and mon­et­ ary tribute, an undeniable manifestation of Athenian power, is crystal clear in the Athenian epigraphic record, most obviously in the tribute quota lists. Allied offerings at the Great Panathenaia, moreover, were mandated in a decree otherwise wholly concerned with tribute assessment.86 The same verb, ἀπάγειν, was used to describe the bringing of both offerings and tribute;87 the connection was surely not lost on those allies required to bring both to Athens.88 Once in Athens, they may have been impressed by the scale of the monumental building and inscription in Athenian sacred space, at least to some extent funded by tribute contributions,89 particularly as such building was almost non-­existent elsewhere in the empire in the fifth century.90 This was architecture intended to impress, a means of imperial self-­ presentation employed by many empires throughout history.91 In fact, it may have been directly influenced by the Achaemenid Persian imperial architecture at Persepolis, which in any case provides a suitable comparison: the frieze of the Apadana presented multi-­ethnic subjects bringing offerings to the Persian king, just as the Parthenon frieze shows many devotees (albeit Greek ones) bringing offerings to the Athenian goddess (see Figure 3.1 and the cover image).92 Allied participants may have been struck by the grandeur of the religious rituals in these monumental spaces, and the number of participants. This aspect of the spectacle, however, would have been reliant on their own compliance and attendance; the Athenians needed the allies to be there. But even if aware of the superiority of Athenian power, allies may also have been impressed by the beauty of the Athenian monuments and rituals, and respected their dedication to the goddess. There is good evidence to suggest that the aesthetic qualities of rituals and dedications were important to ancient

86  IG I3 71 = OR 153 = AIO 959. 87  IG I3 34 = OR 154 = AIUK 4.2 no. 5 line 10 (for example) for tribute; line 41 for offerings. 88  Kowalzig (2007) chapter 2, especially at 110–18, explores the ambiguous distinctions between allied religious, political, and economic obligations to the Athenians. 89 Inscribed accounts survive for a number of the Acropolis building projects, including the Parthenon (IG I3 433–97; see also OR 145); it is possible from these accounts to see the mixed sources of funding, the most prominent being the Treasurers of Athena, who would have received income from the aparche of the tribute. See Kallet-­Marx (1989a). 90  There is very little evidence of monumental archaeological remains elsewhere in the empire in the fifth century: see Osborne (1999a). Similarly, very few allied communities erected public inscriptions before the final decades of the century, and even then not in great numbers: see Liddel (2010). 91  Thuc. 1.10.2: ‘whereas, if the same fate befell the Athenians (i.e. if Athens became desolate), the ruins of Athens would strike the eye, and we should infer their power to have been twice as great as it really is’. 92  See Root (1985) for the suggestion that the Parthenon frieze (and possibly other monumental building at Athens) was influenced by Achaemenid royal architecture.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  111 worshippers.93 Indeed, in connection with this, the possibility of genuine ­religious belief on the part of the allied participants is an important consideration.94 The Athenians honoured the goddess in the hope of honour in return:95 this was a reciprocal relationship, and one that could extend to the other worshippers. For example, when the Eteokarpathians of Karpathos gave a cypress tree to the Athenians to build the roof of a temple for Athena on the Acropolis,96 we cannot rule out the possibility that their motivation was not solely political gain in the context of a negotiation with the Athenians, but also sincere religious belief, and a hope for benefaction, not just from the Athenians, but also from Athena. Allied communities or individuals may have presented crowns to Athena with the same sentiment. Perhaps aided by shared religious belief, allied participants may also have felt a level of identification with the Athenians, or with other participants. The role of religious practices in establishing communal identities in the Greek world, whether at the level of the sub-polis, polis, or supra-polis, has been much discussed since Christiane Sourvinou-­Inwood’s influential 1990 contribution.97 For Barbara Kowalzig, community could be created through participation in common cultic practice; and it was precisely this phenomenon, she argues, that the Athenians were (not wholly successfully) attempting to capitalize on at Delos, to convert a religious communitas into a political one.98 Julia Shear explores the differentiated participation of different groups in the various events of the Panathenaia: she argues that non-­Athenian participants may have felt part of the community of all the Athenians at some times, and would have served as an external foil to emphasize the Athenians’ exclusive community at others.99 It is notable that there is little obvious differentiation in the depiction of worshippers in the Parthenon frieze; all members of the procession, perhaps Athenians and non-­Athenians, look the same, except some differences in dress. Any sense of identification, however, may have varied between different individuals from different communities. The Chians, for instance, may have been individually singled out in the prayers before the sacrifices at the Panathenaia (at least, this is one interpretation of a joke in Aristophanes’ Birds); they may have felt honoured by this inclusion, and potentially more a part of the Athenian community than others.100 We saw earlier that

93  As illuminated for me by Hugo Shakeshaft, whose forthcoming monograph is entitled Beauty and the Gods. See also E. Meyer (2013) 457–63 on the aesthetic qualities of inscriptions and dedications; Mikalson (2016) 253–64. 94  For introductions to the subject of ancient religious belief, much debated in recent scholarship, see Kindt (2012) chapter 1; Harrison (2015). 95  This is a central contention of her book: see, for example, Shear (2021) 34. 96  IG I3 1454 = OR 136 = AIO 954 lines 8–10. 97  Sourvinou-­Inwood (1990). See, for example, Malkin (2011) chapter 3 for the role of religious ritual in creating connectivity and communal identity in Sicily. 98  Kowalzig (2007) 82. 99  Shear (2021) 254–155. 100 Ar. Av. 877–80 with Shear (2021) 153, 288–9.

112  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc the Erythraians may have made visibly distinct, perhaps lesser, offerings to the goddess, and this may have impacted their sense of community. The question of the connection, often assumed by scholars, between the Athenians’ demand for allied participation in their festivals and their promotion of a mythical Ionian kinship relationship throughout the empire is also relevant here.101 The myth of Athens as the mother city of Ionia, while possibly attested as early as the sixth century,102 had considerable significance in the fifth, possibly as a result of ideological promotion by the Athenians. This foundation narrative is presented by Thucydides, for example, at the very opening of his work, in his Archaeology.103 The very architecture of the Acropolis, with its unusual com­bin­ ation of the Doric and Ionic orders on all of its most prominent monuments, suggests the Athenians’ intentional co-­option of Ionian identity; likewise, the parallel Ionic facades of the Erechtheion and of the Pompeion in the Kerameikos, framing the start and end of the Panathenaic procession, are striking.104 There is good evidence, moreover, to suggest that Greek foundations often maintained religious links with their mother cities.105 However, any link between the mandated offerings at Athenian festivals attested in the fifth-­century epigraphic record and the identification of Athens as the mother city of the Ionians is not explicitly attested (except in the case of Brea, which was an actual colony, founded in the fifth century); scholars have made deductions about the fifth-­century material on the basis of a number of fourth-­ century decrees in which specific communities’ offerings at the Panathenaia are related to kinship ties.106 This fourth-­century material—­which will be explored more below—­is enough to suggest, however, that even in the fifth century, allied individuals may have bought into the narrative of the kinship relationship between themselves and the Athenians, and this may have coloured how they perceived their participation in Athenian festivals, and their sense of religious community. In  this regard, as Shear suggests, the Panathenaia may also have served as an opportunity for communities to assert an Ionian identity and to share in communal Ionian worship, as was conducted at the Panionion in Asia Minor.107 Athenian festivals were a supra-polis stage, after all, for the assertion of identity, not just at the level of the empire, or ethnic group, but also the polis.108 There may

101  Thoroughly explored by Smarczyk (1990). 102  Solon fr. 4a (West) refers to Athens as the ‘oldest Ionian land’ (πρεσβυτάτην γαῖαν Ἰαονίας), but the exact implications of this phrase are not clear; see Meiggs (1972) 294. 103  Thuc. 1.2.6; see Fragoulaki (2013) especially at 210–20. See also, for example, Hdt. 1.147 with Parker (1996) 142. 104  For example, Jenkins (2006) 129. 105  Examples provided by Graham (1964) 159–65; consider the Corcyraeans and the Corinthians at Thuc. 1.25.4. 106  For example, Parker (1996) 142–3. 107  Shear (2021) 291. For the Panionion, see Hdt. 1.148. 108  Explored, for example, by Kowalzig (2007) chapter 2.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  113 have been fewer opportunities for such an assertion at Athens than at Delphi, Olympia, or even Delos; Kowalzig, through surviving fragments of choral odes performed there, has argued that the Delian choral competition, at least in the first half of the century, provided an opportunity for allied participants to assert their distinct identities, in competition with the Athenians.109 Thanks to Pindar’s ode for Diagoras of Rhodes, however, we can see that an individual, at least in the first half of the fifth century, was able to celebrate his victory at the Panathenaic games, not as an unidentified Athenian ally, but as a Rhodian.110 The Athenians, however, in depictions of festival rituals such as the Parthenon frieze, did not choose to focus on the individualized identities of non-­Athenian participants. It is also worth asking whether for some allied individuals, their participation in Athenian festivals may even have been enjoyable, as it would have been for the Athenians themselves. They may have had a share in the distribution of sac­ri­ fices.111 They may have been in the audience for the various performances at the Dionysia, or the athletic and musical competitions at the Panathenaia. When Babylonians mocked the Athenians for succumbing to the persuasion of allied representatives, the play may have been particularly amusing to those allied representatives in the audience. Allied spectators may have had distinct reactions to comedies or tragedies, such as Aristophanes’ Birds or Euripides’ Trojan Women, which presented not entirely uncritical dialectics on Athenian power.112 And for other allied individuals, their presence in Athens at the time of festivals may have simply been useful. It would have provided an opportunity for elite networking, for communication and negotiation not only with the Athenians but also prominent individuals from communities across the empire and beyond. Finally, we should take into account the role of the honorific institutions which overlapped with Athenian festival culture, at least by the final years of the century. As I noted in Chapter 1, there is evidence to suggest that Athenian honours meant something to their foreign recipients. To give a particularly pertinent example here, I will return to Thrasyboulos of Kalydon: a third decree, introduced and voted on in the same assembly as the two decrees discussed above, and inscribed on the same stone, concerns ‘those who have given bribes for the decree which was voted for Apollodoros’, another alleged assassin.113 Lysias provides more detail: he says that certain individuals bribed the proposer of the decree in order 109  Kowalzig (2007) 81–110; see also Driscoll (2018) 69–91 for the argument that allied communities competed with the Athenians at Delos in the first half of the century through the building of polis treasuries. 110 Pind. Ol. 7 with Kowalzig (2007) chapter 5. 111  Vernant and Detienne (1989) famously emphasized the consumption of the sacrificial meat; for a more recent overview of ‘sacrifice’ (a disputed term) and the debate around post-­sacrifice meat distribution and consumption, see Naiden (2015). 112  See Rosenbloom (2006) for a take on the critical discourses of these two plays. 113  IG I3 102 = OR 182 lines 39–40: [περὶ] δὲ τ͂ον δοροδοκεσ-|[άντον ἐπὶ τ͂οι φσεφίσματι], ὃ ἐφσεφ[ί]σθε Ἀπολλ-|[οδόροι].

114  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc to be recognized as benefactors.114 Athenian honours had value, then, to at least some allies and non-­Athenians.115 We should, therefore, take into account the possibility that either the witnessing of honours being awarded or, more rarely, the receiving of honours, would have conditioned the experience of allied representatives at the Athenian Dionysia (although it should be noted that allies would no longer have had to bring tribute to the festival by the time of Thrasyboulos’ crowning). Allies receiving honours may have genuinely welcomed them, while those witnessing their award may have wanted to achieve such recognition themselves.116 In sum, not only would the kinds of participation in Athenian festivals on the part of allied and non-­Athenian representatives have been diverse, but their ex­peri­ences would have perhaps been similarly complex. These experiences are pertinent to my interests in the political and fiscal negotiations between the Athenians and allied communities, as the individual responses of allied participants in Athenian festivals may have impacted how these individuals then directed their community’s relations with the Athenians. It was likely the same kinds of elite individuals, if not the very same individuals, after all, who led delegations to Athenian festivals and also negotiated with the Athenians over fiscal or political matters. Did the Athenian culture on show at festivals condition participating allied individuals into buying in, and playing ball, so to speak, with the Athenians during negotiations? Did the opportunity to meet, worship alongside, and socialize with Athenian individuals encourage allies into more amicable negotiations? Did they appreciate the opportunity to represent their community on such a high-­ profile stage? Or did the ostentatious scale and enforced participation at festivals inspire hostility or even opposition to Athenian diplomatic overtures? While the fifth-­century record offers little concrete testimony for such allied responses, later sources from former allied communities potentially offer some insights into how allied participation in Athenian festivals might have impacted imperial relations. It is to these sources I will now turn.

3.3.1  The Panathenaia, the Dionysia, and Honorific Reciprocity at Priene My first example concerns the community of Priene, situated on the western coast of Anatolia (see Map 1). Priene, in the fourth century and even into the 114  Lys. 13.72. 115 The reception of Athenian decrees among non-­Athenians is discussed by Liddel (2020b) ­chapter 4; see pp. 165–7 for foreign reception of Athenian honours. 116  In the fourth century, some honorific decrees explicitly state that they hope to inspire emulation in their audience; see Lambert (2018) chapter 3.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  115 Hellenistic period, continued to send delegations to the Athenian Panathenaia; but these delegations became part of a more reciprocal, sustained honorific diplomatic exchange between the two communities. This honorific activity also included the award of crowns for the Prieneans at the Athenian Dionysia. The pertinent question for my discussion is whether this mode of honorific diplomacy was a fourth-­century innovation, or one with its roots in fifth-­century Athenian festival culture. Can the later evidence point us towards a different approach to fifth-­century allied participation in Athenian festivals? We know that Priene was a tribute-­paying ally in the fifth century; but otherwise much about its relationship with Athens in this period is obscure. There are also no archaeological remains from the period: the community seems to have moved site in the fourth century (perhaps in connection with a disputed refoundation).117 But the late classical and Hellenistic city, with an extensive ­culture of public inscription, is well preserved and easily accessible.118 One of the focal points of the city was its own sanctuary of Athena Polias (see Figure 3.2), perhaps an indication of close cultural ties with Athens.

Figure 3.2  Sanctuary of Athena Polias at Priene. Photograph by the author.

117  See, for example, Hornblower (1982) 323–30. 118  See the excellent second edition of Die Inschriften von Priene.

116  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Thanks to a Prienean decree preserved at Priene, dated exactly to 326/5 bc on prosopographical grounds, we know that the Prieneans promised to participate in the Athenian Panathenaia in the late fourth century: . . . to send a delegation and a panoply for Athena Polias to the Great Panathenaia every five years in memory of the kinship from the beginning and friendship existing for us with regards to them (i.e. the Athenians).119

Several lines later, the decree reiterates this commitment, with reference to the sending of theoroi with aparchai to Athena Polias.120 The promise to send delegations to the Great Panathenaia is part of a broader package of honours for the Athenians, including citizenship, equality of taxation, and priority seats at Prienean competitions.121 There are a number of aspects of the decree worthy of note with regards to my analysis: the Prienean perspective, the honorific framework, and the perception that the Prienean–­Athenian relationship was one of longevity and antiquity. This Prienean text is not the only fourth-­century example of the sending of a delegation to the Panathenaia by a former allied community, although it is the only one attested in a non-­Athenian decree.122 An Athenian decree of 372 bc concerns the sending of offerings to the Panathenaia by the Parians: . . . in accordance with tradition, and to the Panathenaia a cow and panoply and send to the Dionysia a cow and phallos as a [commemoration], since they happen to be colonists of the Athenian People.123

A flurry of Athenian decrees honouring cities in Asia Minor from the final decade of the century, after Athens came into the same sphere of Antigonid influence,124 includes an inscription honouring Kolophon, not far from Priene; the Kolophonians are also described as ‘colonists’ of the Athenians and their offering to Athena of a panoply is recorded.125 It is tempting to note the decree referring to Kolophonian theoroi from the fifth century, and to wonder whether the Kolophonians had a particular, sustained relationship with Athenian festivals. These three well-­known 119  I.Priene2 5 lines 2–6: τῆι Ἀθηνᾶι τῆι Πολιάδι καθ’ ἑ̣[κ]ά̣σ̣τ̣η̣ν̣ | πεντετηρίδα τοῖς Παναθηναίοις τοῖς μεγάλοις̣ | πομπὴν καὶ πανοπλίαν εἰς Ἀθήνας ἀποστέλλε[ιν] | μνημεῖον τῆς ἐξ ἀρχῆς συγγενείας καὶ φιλίας | ἡμῖν ὑπαρχούσης πρὸς αὐτούς· 120  Lines 10–13. 121  Lines 8–9. 122  Shear (2021) table 4.5 usefully summarizes all the examples. 123  SEG 31.67 = RO 29 lines 2–6: κ̣ατὰ τὰ πά-|[τρια καὶ εἰς Παναθήν]α̣ια β͂ον καὶ πανο-|[πλίαν καὶ εἰς Διονύ]σια β͂ον καὶ φαλλὸ-|[ν] ἀ̣[π]ά[γεν μνημεῖο]ν ἐπειδὴ τυγχάνοσ-|[ι] ἄποικοι ὄ[ντες τ]ο̣ῦ δήμου τ͂ο Ἀθηναίων. 124  IG II2 1129, 1485 A (Miletos); IG II2 1485 A (Ephesos); IG II2 563 (Chalkis); IG II2 466 (Tenos), in which the Tenians perhaps promise to send a cow to the Panathenaia (βοῦν is preserved on the stone in line 23, but the text preceding is fragmentary). 125  IG II2 456 B line 6: τὴν πανοπλίαν ἀριστεῖον τεῖ Ἀθ[ηνᾶι]; line 14: ἄποικοι ὄντες.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  117 fourth-­century texts regarding Priene, Kolophon, and Paros have often been used as epigraphic and interpretative models for the fifth-­century decrees concerning allied offerings discussed above.126 But, as is more seldom discussed, in the case of Priene, the fourth-­century offerings can also be fitted into a well-­attested record of maintained diplomacy with the Athenians, in evidence throughout the late fourth century and into the Hellenistic period.127 There are a number of highly fragmentary Athenian decrees concerning Priene from the final decade of the fourth century, which can no doubt be fitted into the same Antigonid context as the Kolophonian text just mentioned;128 and one of them appears to invite Prienean ambassadors to spectate at the Dionysia.129 A fragmentary Athenian honorific decree of the mid-­third century then orders for the Prieneans to be crowned at the same festival.130 Most notable is another Athenian decree dating to around 200 bc, in this case actually found at Priene (see Figure 3.3).131 The decree’s passing was perhaps prompted by the arrival of Philip V in Asia Minor;132 this is not the only Athenian decree showing Athenian concern to strengthen ties with communities there from around this time.133 Like the fourth-­century Prienean decree, it outlines a historical relationship between Athens and Priene, and a Prienean presence at the Panathenaia: since the Prieneans being friends . . . from ancient times, . . .  . . . by all means both the other benefactions of the People towards them, and especially that the Athenians -settled (?) them after . . .  and now wishing to join in enlarging the honours done to the gods by the People, have sent [ambassadors] to the Panathenaia . . .134

126  See Meritt and Wade-­Gery (1962) 69–79. 127  See also IG II3 1 474, an Athenian proxeny decree for the son of Admetos, a Prienean, dated to the 320s bc; I.Priene2 17, a Prienean honorific decree for the Athenian Philaios, possibly dated to the late fourth century or, on Crowther’s interpretation, the 290s bc (Crowther (1996) 216). 128  See also IG II2 564 and 565, both referring to Prienean ambassadors; IG II2 566, which seems to refer to a Prienean citizenship grant in line 8; possibly SEG 3.86. 129  IG II2 567 lines 23: θέαν εἰς τὰ Διονύ[σια]. 130  IG II2 693. 131  I.Priene2 99 = IG II3 1 1239. 132 Polyb.16. 133  Andrew Meadows, in a forthcoming contribution, places a decree honouring Antioch (IG II3 1 1178) in this context; lines 14–20 preserve a similar crowning formula. 134  I.Priene2 99 = IG II3 1 1239 lines 4–10: ἐπειδὴ Πριηνεῖς φίλο[ι καὶ συγγενεῖς ὑπάρ]-|[χοντες] ἐκ παλαιῶν χρόνων με̣[τ. . . μνη]-|[μονεύου]σ̣ι ̣ν διὰ παντὸς τῶν τε ἄ̣λ̣λ̣[ων εὐεργετημάτων] | [τῶν γ]εγονότων αὐτοῖς ὑπὸ τοῦ δήμου κ[αὶ μάλιστα, ὅτι κα]-|[τώ]ικισαν αὐτοὺς Ἀθηναῖοι μετὰ τὴν ἐπὶ [. . .] | [κα]ὶ νῦν βουλόμενοι συνεπ̣[αύ]ξ̣ ειν τὰς συν[τελουμένας] | [ὑπὸ τ]οῦ δήμου τοῖς θεοῖς τιμὰ̣ς [ἀπεσ]τ̣άλκα[σιν πρεσβευτὰς] | [εἰς Π]αναθήναια.

118  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

Figure 3.3  Athenian decree found at Priene (I.Priene2 99 = IG II3 1 1239; c.200 bc). Photograph by Charles Crowther, Centre for the Study of Ancient Documents, Oxford.

At the end, in some fragmentary lines, of which more can be read and restored than in the corpus editions, the decree records that the Prieneans were once again crowned and the crown announced at the Athenian Dionysia, as had taken place some decades earlier.135 Again, we should note the honorific framework, the 135  Lines 19–24; I will offer a new reading of these lines in a forthcoming contribution.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  119 perception that the relationship between Athens and Priene had a long history, and the Prienean desire to advertise the Athenian side of this relationship, with inscription and display in their own public space. The Prieneans are also ex­pli­ cit­ly said to want to honour the goddess. For Priene, a city of moderate im­port­ ance in the immediate vicinity of a number of more prominent poleis, and with the presence of supra-­local powers, their ancient relationship with Athens and with the Athenian goddess clearly had contemporary significance, and was ­worthy of inscription and display. The last data point in my sketch of Athenian–­Prienean relations comes from the late second century. The kinship connection between Athens and Priene which underlay Prienean attendance at the Panathenaia was still alive at this time, as shown by a Prienean decree honouring the Athenian Herodes, the son of Herodes, which refers to Athens as the Prienean metropolis.136 All in all, over a period of more than two centuries, there were not only Athenian honorific grants for the Prieneans, but also Prienean grants for the Athenians: this honorific relationship was reciprocal. Both Prienean participation at the Panathenaia and recognition at the Dionysia was a maintained part of this relationship. But in this regard there was a preserved inequality. The Prieneans sent delegations and were honoured in Athenian festivals, and not the other way around, as far as we know, although Athenians were given priority seating at Prienean games. Past examinations of these texts have largely passed over the nuances of what these delegations and offerings meant at different times in the shifting geo­pol­it­ ical landscape of the classical and Hellenistic periods.137 The text concerning Paros, inscribed at the height of the renewed fourth-­century Athenian supremacy, is easily interpreted in the same—­punitive, unidirectional—­light as the fifth-­ century decrees concerning mandated allied offerings at Athenian festivals. This is not least because it is inscribed on the same stone as the only surviving decision of the allied council (synedrion), which shows that there had been recent political instability on the island, perhaps necessitating the reintegration of the community into the alliance.138 But, even if one does take this approach, what to do with the Prienean decree of the 320s and the Athenian decree concerning Kolophon from the final decade of the century, both of which date during the late fourth-­ century decline of Athenian power in the Aegean? And how do we interpret the relationship between Priene and Athens, articulated through Prienean participation in Athenian festivals, and reciprocal honorific grants, and sustained throughout much of the late fourth century and Hellenistic period? One might argue that this Athenian–­Prienean relationship was a distinct phenomenon, an example of the ubiquitous honorific diplomatic economy of 136  I.Priene2 65. 137  Brief mentions of the third-­century Prienean presence at the Panathenaia by Parker (1996) 221; by Shear (2021) especially at 150–5. See Driscoll (2018) 134–49 for a more substantial analysis of the fourth-­century texts. 138  SEG 31.67 = RO 29 lines 14–23 for the allied decision.

120  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc the Hellenistic period,139 and nothing to do with the dynamics of fifth-­century Athenian power. Undoubtedly, the Athenians would have had to adopt new diplomatic strategies with the decline of their empire, and then of their Second Confederacy. But it is also possible that the origins of the Athenian–­Prienean relationship were to be found in the fifth century, and thus that the later texts grant us an insight into a fifth-­century dynamic absent from the contemporary evidence. The Prieneans, at any rate, certainly understood their relationship with the Athenians as one stretching far back into the past.140 Perhaps, as Eric Driscoll suggests for the fourth-­century texts, the offerings and delegations endured precisely because they were always articulated within ‘an honorific economy of mutual praise’.141 The Prieneans of the fifth century, like the Prieneans of the fourth century, conceivably wanted to participate in the Panathenaia, and wanted to be honoured at the Dionysia, as their relationship with Athens was already articulated in (what they perceived as) reciprocal terms. Perhaps they also felt genuine religious devotion to the Athenian Athena, especially given their worship of the same cult. Their perceived kinship connection with the Athenians evidently played a part, at least from the fourth century onwards. As I have previously noted, the honorific record in the fifth century is lopsided, and honorific decrees passed by the Athenians for other communities survive, but not the other way round. It has been debated whether this was a deceptive result of the unequal epigraphic record,142 or reflecting a genuine dynamic, whereby the Athenians dominated the bestowal of honours during the time of the empire.143 But it is possible that reciprocity could be expressed and felt in different ways. For the Prieneans, their perceived kinship with Athens and their relationship with Athena may have played an important part in constructing a sense of reciprocity; and may have continued to do so in the centuries that followed, when the seemingly unequal dynamic of devotion and honours persisted. Why do we have this quality of evidence only for Priene, and, to a lesser degree, Kolophon? Of course, it may be an accident of survival. Perhaps the Prieneans found a maintained relationship with the Athenians particularly useful in the competitive civic landscape of the Hellenistic period, especially in their region, home to a number of more prominent communities such as Ephesus. Their offerings at the Panathenaia and attendance at the Dionysia were a potent means of articulating this relationship. Note the Prienean inscription and display of the late third-­century Athenian decree in their own public space: their relationship with Athens was something the Prieneans wanted to advertise.

139  For a clear and succinct overview of this Hellenistic diplomatic culture, see Ma (2003). 140  See Luraghi (2010) for discussion of past and future time in honorific decrees. 141  Driscoll (2018) 151. 142  Mack (2015) 224–5; Lambert (2018) 85. 143  Low (2007) 242.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  121 But perhaps, just perhaps, this maintained relationship testifies to a particular bilateral dynamic between Priene and Athens in the fifth century. In the fifth ­century, too, the Prieneans may have wanted to have a direct, individualized relationship with the Athenians, separate from their more powerful neighbours, matching the Athenian encouragement of such individualized communication. The Athenians sometimes assessed sub-polis communities for tribute separately from Miletos, on the other side of the Maeander valley from Priene, so we know that the Athenians employed such a strategy in the region, where they actively cultivated more communication.144 The Prieneans’ geopolitical situation, then, may have encouraged and supported their particular reaction to Athenian religious culture; and their participation in Athenian religious culture may have impacted their regional position. This is undoubtedly a speculative suggestion. But it raises the important consideration that allied individuals’ participation in the religious, cultural, and honorific activities of Athenian festivals may have had significance for how these individuals then directed their communities’ relations with Athens more broadly. In the late classical and Hellenistic periods, the presence of Prienean delegations at the Panathenaia and the crowning of Prieneans at the Dionysia really mattered for the ‘political’ relationship between these two communities. It was these interactions, which defined how they related to each other, that they chose to record on stone. In the fifth century, perhaps Prienean individuals’ willing participation in Athenian religious rituals, or avid witnessing of the award of honours, also impacted on how they engaged in fiscal or political negotiations with the Athenians. That is to say, the Prieneans may have engaged in negotiation with the Athenians, not only because they wished to achieve more preferable political or fiscal status, but because they valued their particular ties to Athens, to the Athenian goddess, their participation in Athenian festivals, and the opportunity to be Athenian honorands.

3.3.2  The Rhodian Dionysia My second example takes us in a different direction: it allows consideration not just of allied compliance, but of allied resistance. It concerns the community of Rhodes in the south-­east Aegean (see Map 1), and its institution of a very Athenian-­looking theatrical competition in a Dionysia festival by the 380s bc. The exact mechanisms by which this Rhodian emulation of an Athenian festival model occurred are obscure, but can likely be situated, I suspect, in the participation of Rhodian elite individuals at the Athenian Dionysia in the fifth century.

144  Driscoll (2018) 150–77. Briefly discussed in Chapter 2.

122  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Consideration of this example will allow me to explore not only the impact of imperial cultural interactions on political relationships, but also the role of mobile allied elites in the spread of Athenian culture in the Aegean. Theatre, of course, was not a solely Athenian phenomenon.145 There were diverse theatrical cultures beyond Athens, including in allied communities, as shown by Eric Csapo and Peter Wilson in their impressive 2020 volume. We know from the Hippocratic corpus, for instance, that there was a functioning theatre on the island of Thasos by the fifth century (although there is no fifth-­ century evidence concerning performances or associated rituals conducted there).146 It is unmistakable, however, that when epigraphic evidence for theatre culture in the Aegean begins to be more plentiful in the fourth century, there are marked similarities between the Athenian Dionysia and festivals elsewhere.147 A particularly striking example is provided by Rhodes. A little political background is helpful here, although I will provide more in Chapter  5.148 For much of the fifth century, the island of Rhodes hosted three poleis, all of which were tribute-­paying allies.149 In 411/10 bc, oligarchic leaders brought about the poleis’ defection to the Spartan side;150 then, in 408/7 bc, the three communities synoecized, a union which brought about both political and physical integration.151 There was political instability in the new polis in the decades following; but by 395 bc the Rhodian democrats had regained power.152 In  378/7 Rhodes was one of the first communities to join the new ‘Second Athenian Confederacy’, showing the island’s sustained links with Athens.153 Our evidence for the Rhodian Dionysia in the years after the reinstitution of the Rhodian democracy comes from an unlikely source: the fragments of a first-­ century bc or first-­century ad inscription built into the floor of St Paul’s Basilica in Rome, which are thought to have once adorned the walls of a monumental building.154 The inscription consists of a list of tragic actors, likely derived from a Hellenistic Alexandrian record; as some of the actors are known from elsewhere, prosopographical analysis allows the dating of the surviving section of the list to the early fourth century. The actors are listed in the order of their first appearance, with details of the prizes they won and the plays they performed.155 To give an example (the quotation of the Greek in the main text is useful here):

145  See Stewart (2017); Csapo and Wilson (2020). 146 Hippoc. Epid. 1.20; while the doctor’s time on Thasos is usually dated to c.410 bc, Robin Lane Fox has offered an alternative dating in the 470s bc: see Lane Fox (2020) chapter 13 for the date of the doctor’s visit, 195–6 for the Thasian theatre. 147  Csapo and Wilson (2020) 604–11. 148  See Chapter 5.1.1. 149  For Pindar, Rhodes was a ‘three-polis island’ (Pind. Ol. 7.18: τρίπολιν νᾶσον). 150  Thuc. 8.44. 151  Diod. Sic. 13.75.1. 152  Hell. Oxy. 10, with Bruce (1961). 153  See the decree inviting states to join the second Athenian League, IG II2 43 = RO 22 line 82. 154  IGUR I 223–30. The commentary provided by Csapo and Wilson (2020) 687–99 Dxi has il­lu­ min­ated this text for me. See also Stewart (2017) 180–1. 155  Csapo and Wilson (2020) 608.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  123 [— — — — — —]λωταδ̣[— — — — — — — — — —] [— — — — — -]μ̣αχος̣ Ἀθ[ηναῖος? — — — — — — —] [— — — —] καὶ Ὀδυσσέ[α — — — — — — — — — —] [— — σατυ]ρικὸν Τήλεφ[ον — — — — — — — — —] [— — — -]ς ἐν Ῥόδωι δεύ[τερος ἐγένετο — — — ὁ δεῖνα]       5 [— Λή]ναια ἐνίκα Εὐδ̣[- — — — — — — — — — ὑπο]κρινόμενος. Θρ-[ — — — — — — — — — — — Παρά]κλησιν Μορμο[ῦς — — — — — — — — — — — ὑπε][κ]ρίνετο Ἀριστ̣[όδημος? — — — — — — — — — —] [— acted — — Phi]lotaḍ[es — — — — — — — — — —] [— — — — ?Alki]machos the Ath[enian? — — — — —] [— — — —] and Odysseu[s — — — — — — — — — —] [— — saty]r play Teleph[os — — — — — — — — — — —] [— — —]s in Rhodes was sec[ond — — — — — — — — —]   5 [— at the Le]naia Eup̣[olemos was victorious — — — — — a]cting. Thr[asyboulos — — — — — — — — — — — — Summ]oning of Morm[o — — — — — — — — — — — — — — a][c]ted Arisṭ[odemos? — — — — — — — — — — — — — —]156

There are references to two plays, Odysseus and Telephon,157 both of which could have been composed by the famous tragedian Sophocles, two actors (probably Alkimachos and Eupolemos), and two festivals, the Athenian Lenaia and a festival on Rhodes, which we know from later evidence was in honour of Dionysus.158 Elsewhere, the surviving fragments also refer to the Athenian Dionysia; and Rhodes is also mentioned on two further occasions.159 The same actors were clearly competing in both Athenian and Rhodian contexts: as Wilson and Csapo describe, we can ‘infer that Rhodes was part of a regular festival circuit for top-­ ranking tragic performers’.160 The same actors were also performing plays by the same playwrights at Athens and Rhodes. Actors are referred to in relation to the Rhodian tribes in at least one place, suggesting that performances were publicly funded through a tribal structure (a phenomenon known from Athens in the choral, and later comic, competitions).161 Epigraphic evidence from Rhodes can be added to the testimony of the fragments to build a long list of similarities between the Athenian and Rhodian festivals by the Hellenistic period: choruses,162

156  IGUR I 229 = Csapo and Wilson (2020) Dxi 6 (text and translation by Csapo and Wilson). 157  Csapo and Wilson (2020) 692–3. 158  For example, Diod. Sic. 20.84.3, relating to 305 bc. 159  IGUR I 223 = Csapo and Wilson (2020) Dxi 1 line 4; IGUR I 227 = Csapo and Wilson (2020) Dxi 5 line 2. 160  Csapo and Wilson (2020) 695. 161  IGUR I 227 = Csapo and Wilson (2020) Dxi 5 line 4: Καιμειρίδι φυ̣- (tribe of Kamiros); also implied at IGUR I 223 = Csapo and Wilson (2020) Dxi 1 line 4 with the participle νεμηθείς (‘allotted’). 162  For example, Lindos II 696 refers to choral performances.

124  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc tragedy, comedy, choregic funding,163 a competition for actors, and all in honour of Dionysus.164 Judging by the existence of our inscription, there was clearly an archive on Rhodes recording information about the various competitions and performances, as there was at Athens. Later, in 305 bc, a parade of war orphans was instituted (at least according to Diodorus), a practice with an undeniable Athenian precedent, albeit one possibly from the fourth century.165 But the fragments also show slight variations between the Rhodian and Athenian festivals. It seems that Rhodes, perhaps because of its tripartite tribal structure, awarded prizes to the three top-­ranked actors (as in the quotation above); other communities, including Athens, are only known to have awarded one prize. At a pinch, the fragment quoted above possibly also provides evidence for the performance of a full Sophoclean trilogy or tetralogy in the Rhodian festival (note the explicit reference to a satyr play), a practice which had died out in the Athenian Dionysia by the fourth century, where no Sophoclean revival is even attested.166 The survival of the Rhodian list might have been due to its usefulness to a Roman audience in providing more extensive data on actors, or perhaps to Hellenistic Alexandria’s cultural ties with Rhodes, and thus access to and interest in Rhodian archives.167 Nonetheless, the list suggests that by the first decades of the fourth century the Rhodian Dionysia had some international prominence and was set up as an equivalent to the Athenian Dionysia. I should be clear that this was a fourth-­century phenomenon. We have no evidence for a Rhodian Dionysia in earlier years. The festival seems like the confident cultural projection of the Rhodian state, an increasingly important regional power, newly emerged from several decades of political instability. But, given the closeness of the Rhodian use of the Athenian model, so soon after the many decades of Athenian power and thus Rhodian attendance at the Dionysia, we must ask if the mechanisms underlying this cultural replication had their origins in the fifth century. We know that Rhodian individuals were certainly exposed to the Athenian festival in the fifth century, so why did they then choose to set up their own festival in a similar way? Mobile elites were likely the agents of this kind of cultural change.168 Robinson, in his study of democracy beyond Athens, has argued that it would have been 163  For example in Lindos II 199, a Hellenistic statue base, the honorand is identified as a choregos who funded a comedy. 164  For example, IG 12 1 71, an undated statue base, refers to the honorand as a choregos at the tragic competition at the Dionysia. 165  Diod. Sic. 20.84.3. 166  Csapo and Wilson (2020) 696–7. For the performance of single plays as opposed to tetralogies in the second half of the fourth century, see Hanink (2014) 214–15. 167  For ties between Rhodes and the Ptolemies, see Chapter 5.2.1. 168  Discussion of this phenomenon is more developed vis-­à-­vis the Roman empire: see Dench (2018), especially the introduction for an overview of the extensive scholarship.

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  125 allied elites who were both exposed to Athenian democratic institutions and were in the positions of influence from where they could bring about political change at home.169 We should view the spread of ‘Athenian-­style’ religious and theatrical culture in the same light. Indeed, we have explicit evidence from this time from the Athenian side for an elite individual implementing significant change in the city’s religious landscape. A late fifth-­century or early fourth-­century inscription shows that the cult of Asklepios at Athens was founded at the instigation of one Telemachos, who even funded the new precinct singlehandedly.170 The inscription is on a base supporting a sculptural relief, possibly depicting Telemachos himself.171 Indirect evidence for allied communities from the fifth century is perhaps provided by the boundary stones (mentioned above) referring to Athenian cults found at Samos, Aegina, Chalkis, and Kos.172 If these indicate the actual presence of Athenian cults, rather than land ownership, then they perhaps show the voluntary import of Athenian religious practice into these communities, ­perhaps as a result of individuals’ mobility to Athens and exposure to Athenian religious culture. But we should not separate ‘political’ institutions from ‘religious’ practices; as I have argued in this chapter, allied elites would have experienced multivalent aspects of Athenian polis, i.e. democratic, culture when they participated in Athenian festivals. The spread of ‘Athenian-­style’ democratic institutions, attested in some ‘Athenian-­style’ decrees from allied communities from the end of the fifth century, could be one aspect of broader cultural change, encouraged by mobile individuals who wished to emulate aspects of Athenian culture in different ways.173 But what were the motivations of these individuals? In the Rhodian case, perhaps Rhodian representatives had ‘positive’ experiences of the Athenian Dionysia in the fifth century; they wanted to participate in some way, they enjoyed watching the various performances, and therefore it was a natural next step to create a similar festival at home. In the shifting geopolitical sands of the early fourth century, the Rhodian creation of an Athenian-­style Dionysia with concrete ties to the original model was perhaps a way for the Rhodian democrats to express an intended cultural affinity with the Athenians, at a time when they had regained control in their own community and Athenian power was once again on the rise. The Athenian Dionysia, in part due to its imperial audiences, was the democratic theatrical festival par excellence; emulation thus could also have been a strong statement of democratic intent for the new Rhodian regime. Religious belief may have played a part here too; perhaps the Rhodians admired the particular way in which the Athenians honoured Dionysus and wished to do the same.

169  Robinson (2011) 210. 170  IG II3 4 665 (lines 40–2 for the funding of the precinct). 171  See Lambert (2010) 156–8. 172  IG I3 1481–99, 1502 with Barron (1964); Parker (1996) 144–5. 173  See Lazar (forthcoming a).

126  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc But was there perhaps a more competitive edge? Perhaps the Rhodians had resented their forced presence at the Dionysia, and, now it was possible, were setting up a challenge to the Athenians. Indeed, Diagoras, albeit a Rhodian with oligarchical inclinations, had used his victory at the Panathenaic games to re­inforce his strongly Rhodian identity. The Rhodians’ ranking of three actors, rather than one, and possible performances of full trilogies or tetralogies maybe even suggests that they were trying to ‘out-­Athenian’ the Athenians. If we accept this interpretation, it must be emphasized that the parameters of this cultural competition were strictly Athenian: it was the Athenian model that had inter­nation­al recognition and prestige. The Rhodians were not attempting to elevate their own epichoric festival to the same level as the Athenian Dionysia, but rather chose to compete on the Athenians’ terms. In this connection, from a purely practical perspective, if the Rhodians wanted their festival to have international standing, to attract renowned actors and international visitors, then the well-­known, recognizable Athenian model may simply have been the obvious one to follow. What is certain is that the Athenian Dionysia had an impact on the Rhodians who participated in it. While this emulation of an Athenian model must surely be situated in the particular political and cultural landscape of early fourth-­century Rhodes, it can perhaps also offer insights into possible Rhodian interaction with the Athenian festival at an earlier stage. Moreover, there are further examples of the particularly Rhodian reception of Athenian culture, which will be discussed more in Chapter  5. As I will show, a complex dynamic can be reconstructed, whereby the Rhodians, at different times and in different ways, coexisted with, resisted, and emulated Athenian power. The Rhodians’ potentially multivalent attitude to the Dionysia may have been part of an ambivalence vis-­à-­vis the Athenians more broadly. Attendance at an Athenian festival and adoption of aspects of Athenian culture by an allied community did not necessarily equate to compliance.

3.3  Conclusion (and a Brief Word on Bendis) In the first two chapters of this monograph, I argued that the Athenians’ political and fiscal interactions with allied communities were in various ways flexible and negotiated. These negotiations, I hope to have shown in this chapter, did not happen in a vacuum. They relied on allied mobility to Athens, likely on the part of elite individuals; and an important focus of this mobility was Athenian festivals. Any political and fiscal negotiations were only a part of a wide array of allied (likely elite) interactions—­religious, cultural, honorific, social—­in festival contexts, which may have been increasingly encouraged by the Athenians as the century progressed. When analysing how and why allies engaged in negotiated relationships with Athens, then, we have to think holistically about how individual

Athenian Festival Culture and Allied Integration  127 representatives experienced their mobility and participation in Athenian festivals, and indeed in Athenian contexts more broadly. Allied experiences would have been complex and variable. It is possible that the Prieneans perceived their participation in Athenian festivals through a lens of agency and reciprocity. Other communities, such as Rhodes, however, may have viewed their mandated presence at the Panathenaia and Dionysia in a different light. But my analysis does not just have significance for understanding of political or fiscal negotiations. My consideration of the Rhodian Dionysia also highlights the pervasive and long-­lasting cultural impact of the empire. Shortly after the Athenians could no longer demand that the Rhodians be present at their Dionysia, the Rhodians set up an Athenian-­style Dionysia of their own. What were the mechanisms of this cultural replication: admiring emulation or competitive imitation? Regardless, we know that the mobile Rhodian elites who had participated in the Athenian Dionysia a few decades earlier took something home. And this case study may have implications for how we understand the spread of Athenian democratic culture, in all its forms, across the empire. It would have been the mobile allied individuals most likely to visit Athens and to be co-­opted into Athenian culture who would have both directed their communities’ relations with the Athenians and shaped their communities’ internal political, religious, and honorific cultures. The emergence of Athenian-­style decrees, or Athenian-­style theatrical culture in some communities, is thus perhaps indirect evidence of an Athenian attempt to form relationships with those communities’ mobile and influential elites. As a final consideration, it should be noted that religious influence and emulation was not solely a unidirectional phenomenon in the empire. When foreigners came to Athens, they also brought new religious experiences with them. We know from an inventory of loans made by the Treasurers of the Other Gods in 429/8 bc that the cult of the Thracian deity Bendis was officially established in Athens by that date;174 by 423/2 bc the cult had its own treasurers.175 A fragmentary late-­ century decree shows the Athenian demos’ concern with Bendaian rites.176 By the third century, a decree of the Bendaian orgeones looks back at the fifth-­century foundation of the cult, supposedly at oracular instigation, and states that the Athenian treatment of Bendis was uniquely favourable: Since the Athenian People has granted to the Thracians alone among all foreign peoples the right to acquire land and found a sanctuary, in accordance with the oracle from Dodona . . .177

174  IG I3 383 lines 142–3. 175  IG I3 369 lines 67–8. 176  IG I3 176. 177  IG II2 1283 lines 4–6: ἐπειδὴ τοῦ δήμου τοῦ Ἀθηναίων δεδωκότος τοῖς Θραιξὶ μ-|όνοις τῶν ἄλλων ἐθνῶν τὴν ἔγκτησιν καὶ τὴν ἵδρυσιν τοῦ | ἱεροῦ κατὰ τὴν μ[α]ντείαν τὴν ἐγ Δωδώνης.

128  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Was there really special treatment for Bendis? Robert Parker has noted that the acceptance of new gods at Athens was not uncommon.178 But the Thracian region was significant to the Athenians from the late archaic period onwards. As a result of ties between Athens and the North Aegean, there would have been a considerable number of Thracians in Athens, and likely informal worship of Bendis. Perhaps the Athenians thought that the elevation of the worship of Bendis to a state cult would ingratiate them with their Thracian allies (not just the Odrysian king but the residents of the Greek cities in the Thracian orbit), or would establish a cultural rapport with potential political implications.179 It is also possible that their new-­found religious belief did not map exactly onto political considerations; once again, the possibility of genuine religious feeling should not be neglected. So not only did the Athenians articulate their relations with allies through allied participation in their epichoric festivals; they also, at least in this specific instance, officially provided for adaptation in their own religious culture. Consideration of Bendis and Thrace, moreover, brings me to my first regional study, and to the second half of this monograph. 178  Parker (1996) 196. 179  For a few of the many contributions on the introduction of the cult and its potential political implications, see Garland (1992) 111–12; Demetriou (2012) 223–7; Sears (2013) 153–5; Wijma (2014) 139–45.

4

From the Thermaic Gulf to Thasos Athenian Power in the North Aegean

Megabazos, bringing with him the Paionians, came to the Hellespont; crossing it, he came from there to Sardis. Histiaios the Milesian was by this time fortifying the place which he had asked from Darios as his reward for guarding the bridge, a place called Myrkinos by the river Strymon. Megabazos learned what he was doing, and, as soon as he arrived at Sardis with the Paionians, made the following speech to Darios: “My lord, what have you done? You have allowed a clever and cunning Greek to build a city in Thrace, where there are abundant forests for ship-­building, wood for oars, silver mines, and many people both Greek and barbarian living in the region, who, when they have a leader, will carry out his orders day and night.”1 Herodotus, Book 5

4.1 Introduction Megabazos’ speech to the Achaemenid King Darios in the fifth book of Herodotus’ Histories encapsulates the resource-­rich, highly competitive environment of the North Aegean. The Athenians, like many others, were attracted to the region for its commercial opportunities, but successful exploitation depended on adaptation to its unique demands. At the northern edge of their power in the Aegean, at the intersection of overlapping spheres of authority, the Athenians were forced to modify their approach. In this chapter, the first of three comparative regional studies, I will explore how Athenian power adjusted to the unique North Aegean geopolitical ­landscape. First, I will analyse how the Athenians adapted their negotiations to the requirements of their competitors, both allied communities and external powers, with various political structures, including Greek poleis, multi-polis entities, and Thraco-­Macedonian groups, primarily the organized Macedonian 1  Hdt. 5.23.

Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc. Leah Lazar, Oxford University Press. © Leah Lazar 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198896265.003.0005

130  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc and Odrysian kingdoms. This analysis will contextualize the community-­level negotiation processes I laid out in Chapter  1; further, it will show how the Athenians’ use of the network of prominent, mobile individuals extended to different kinds of polity, proving even more significant beyond the scope of their formal power and the polis system. Secondly, I will focus in particular on Athenian interaction with Thasos. I will argue that the Athenians adopted various strategies to compete with the powerful allied island polis and to ensure exploitation. These strategies included intervention in the relationship between Thasos and its mainland interests, and the foundation of settlements in emulation of the successful Thasian colonial model. This adaptation was, however, no unidirectional phenomenon. Indeed, I will contend that Thasian power likewise adjusted when confronted with the Athenian presence, allowing reconstruction of a multi-­directional process of competition and mutual influence.

4.1.1  The Landscape of the North Aegean First, however, I will provide some necessary context. The primary area under consideration in this chapter stretches from the edges of the Argead kingdom of Macedon on the Thermaic Gulf in the west (near modern-­day Thessaloniki), east to the three-­fingered Chalkidike peninsula, with its extensive coastline, over the Strymon river and past the Pangaion mountain range to the Nestos river, with the island of Thasos a few kilometres to the south (see Maps 2 and 3). Where relevant, I will stray to the marshy, less densely settled coastline to the west; and further inland, into Thrace proper. This part of the North Aegean was unusually rich in natural resources, as evoked by the speech of Megabazos quoted above. First, in both Macedon and Thrace there were forests with trees providing ship-­building timber, a commodity rare in the Aegean, and one particularly necessary for a naval power such as Athens.2 This is made clear by a well-­known passage of the fourth-­century writer Theophrastos: It is a short list of places which have wood suitable for building ships, specifically in Europe the Macedonian region and particular places in Thrace and Italy.3

The area also boasted significant mineral wealth, including, but not limited to, gold and silver. Mineral deposits were located in the Pangaion range (almost 2000

2 On Athenian timber supplies, including from Macedon, see Meiggs (1982) 188–217; Borza (1987) 34. 3 Theophr. Hist.pl. 4.5.5. Karathanasis (2019) uses archaeobotanical data to argue that parts of Macedonia alone were home to the silver firs best suited to shipbuilding.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  131 metres high at its acme), as well as in other areas in the Chalkidike, between the Strymon and Nestos rivers, and on the island of Thasos.4 This richness was well known in the fifth century, as shown by references to mines by both Herodotus and Thucydides.5 Archaeological research has brought to light evidence of ancient mining activity, from individual mining installations, such as that on the Thasian acropolis by the sanctuary dedicated to Pan, to large-­scale surveys using new technologies, showing the extent of exploitation in antiquity. As Zosia Archibald emphasizes, however, more work needs to be completed before we have a fuller understanding of ancient mining in the region.6 The mainland in this region provides flat land suitable for cultivation, watered by numerous rivers. The alluvial sediments deposited by the rivers over time have significantly changed the coastline since antiquity, particularly around the Thermaic Gulf but also to the east of the Chalkidike.7 Some of these rivers were navigable, so allowed links to develop with the interior, forging interdependent and often lucrative relationships between coastal hubs and inland communities.8 Evidence of this dynamic is abundantly provided by the archaeological remains dating from the fifth century onwards, which attest to a Greek settlement several hundred kilometres up the Hebros (Maritsa) river at Adjiyska Vodenitsa in Bulgaria. The site has been identified as the Greek emporion of Pistiros, on the basis of epigraphic evidence.9 Adjiyska Vodenitsa was strategically located on the river, close to mining installations and timber resources, at the intersection of several roads;10 a sophisticated urban plan dating from the second half of the fifth century shows its considerable prosperity.11 Back to the Aegean, the island of Thasos, unlike the coast opposite, has little flat land—­as Archilochos describes, the island ‘stands like the spine of a donkey, wreathed with unkempt forest’12—but was rich in other resources such as marble (Figure 4.1),13 and was famous for its wine production.14 4  See Archibald (2013) 171–81 on metals and minerals in the region. In this chapter, I am deeply indebted to Archibald’s excellent study. 5  In addition to Herodotus’ report of Megabazos’ speech, see Hdt. 5.17 on Alexander I of Macedon’s exploitation of the mine at Mt Dysoron (with Archibald (2013) 266 on the difficulties of locating this mine); 6.46–7 on Thasian exploitation of mines on Thasos itself and on the mainland; 7.112 on Thracian exploitation of Mt Pangaion; Thuc. 1.100 on Thasian interests in mainland mines; 4.105 on Thucydides’ own mining rights in the region. 6  For the mine on the Thasian acropolis, see Grandjean and Salviat (2000) 119; for the application of new technology for surveying ancient mining activity in the North Aegean see, for example, Oikonomidis, Vavelidis, Melfos, and Artashova (2016); Archibald (2013) 266. 7  Archibald (2013) 132–4 (with maps showing changes in the coastline of the Thermaic Gulf). 8  Archibald (2013) 18. 9  Archibald (2013) 231–7. 10  Bouzek and Domaradzka (2016) 12–13. 11  Bouzek (2016). 12  Archilochos fr. 21: ἥδε δ᾿ ὥστ᾿ ὄνου ῥάχις ἕστηκεν ὕλης ἀγρίης ἐπιστεφής (translation by West (1993)). 13  See Grandjean and Salviat (2000) for the quarries at the site of Aliki on the south of the island; when I visited the site, I was impressed by the evident scale of ancient exploitation (see Map 3). 14  See the three wine laws dating to the fifth century, discussed below, in section 4.3.4 (the earlier law: Pouilloux no. 7 = SEG 18 347 = OR 103 A; the two later laws: IG 12 Suppl. 347 = OR 103 B).

132  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

Figure 4.1  Ancient quarries at Aliki, Thasos. Photograph by the author.

In antiquity, this landscape was inhabited by numerous communities with various political formations. There were many Greek poleis, especially on the Chalkidike peninsula, where the abundant coastline with adjacent flat land (at least on the western and central prongs) allowed for dense settlement (see Map 2). There were only a few large poleis, but a very large number of smaller poleis, often situated close together.15 Indeed, fifty-­three Chalkidic poleis are known to have paid tribute to the Athenians.16 As I will discuss, some of these poleis joined together into collective groups in the fifth century, often identified by scholars as ‘leagues’. Only one polis was situated on Thasos (see Map 3).17 Thasos also exercised control on the mainland, partially through dependent communities; the nature of this control and Thasos’ relationship with its settlements will also be discussed below. The marshy coastal strip to the east of Thasos was dominated by the two large poleis of Abdera and Maroneia; the island of Samothrake, to a lesser degree than Thasos, also had mainland interests here.

15  See Flensted-­Jensen (2004) 810. 16  Kallet and Kroll (2020) 52. 17  See Reger (1997) for general discussion of multi-polis and single polis islands.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  133 In addition to these Greek communities, there were various Macedonian and Thracian groups in the region. In the west, the Argead Macedonian kingdom was ruled by the kings Alexander, Perdikkas, and Archelaos in this period. In the first half of the fifth century, Macedonian power under Alexander, filling in the vacuum left by Persia, spread as far as the Strymon river; with control of the mines in the area, Alexander was able to mint high-­quality coinage.18 For most of the fifth century, however, under Perdikkas and Archelaos, the Argead kingdom was confined to the area north and west of the Thermaic Gulf. There were also other power­ful individuals in the Argead dynasty who controlled territory, and different Macedonian groups further inland, such as the Lynkestians.19 Indeed, the archaeological record shows how numerous elite individuals besides the Argead king held wealth and prestige, as the landscape of Macedonia is famously dotted with rich, sometimes monumental, burials dating from the archaic period onwards.20 The Odrysian Thracian kingdom was a significant power further east. The extent of its territory in the fifth century is not clear, but Thucydides records that its resources were very large (he estimates Odrysian levels of tribute at 400 talents a year in the reign of King Seuthes).21 The kingdom was ruled in the fifth century by Teres (a rather shadowy figure who Thucydides says was the founder of the kingdom), Sitalkes, and Seuthes.22 Other ‘tribal’ or less organized Thracian communities were also active, known from references in ancient authors as well as through large early fifth-­century coinages, such as that of the Bisaltai.23 All in all, it is clear that the Athenians were only one of a number of parties attracted to the region because of its significant resources.

4.1.2  The North Aegean in the Fifth Century It is impossible to summarize what we know of North Aegean narrative history in the fifth century in a few paragraphs.24 There is also no need to read between the lines to reconstruct Athenian interest, as the evidence is abundant. This is partially due to the prominent role the North Aegean played in the Graeco-­Persian and Peloponnesian wars, and its consequent visibility in both Herodotus’ and Thucydides’ texts. We undoubtedly also know more than we might otherwise have done about the fifth-­century North Aegean as Thucydides had a personal 18  Hdt. 5.17; see Price (1987) 47. 19  See Thuc. 2.99 for description of Macedonia; 4.83 and 4.124–8 for Perdikkas and Brasidas’ march against Lynkestis with Hammond and Griffith (1979) 130; see also 14–16 on the Lynkestid royal house. 20  Archibald (2013) 111–12. 21  Thuc. 2.97. 22  Thuc. 2.29. 23  For example, Hdt. 7.110. For the Thraco-­Macedonian coinages, see Kallet and Kroll (2020) 78–80. 24  See, for example, Hammond and Griffith (1979) 98–140; see also Archibald (2013) 37–84 on the limitations of such narratives.

134  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc connection to the region and direct knowledge of significant events there. The name of Thucydides’ father Oloros even implies Thracian heritage. Presumably because of his local connections, Thucydides was the (ultimately ill-­ fated) Athenian general stationed on Thasos at the time of the loss of Amphipolis to Brasidas in 424/3.25 Thucydides reports that he ‘had the right of working the gold mines in that part of Thrace and on account of this had influence among the prominent men on the mainland’;26 note his explicit acknowledgement of his own inter-­elite personal connections. Any outline of North Aegean narrative history in the fifth century must be contextualized with the events of the late sixth. For a number of decades, the Persians occupied much of the region after Megabazos led a Thracian expedition for Darios in 512 bc;27 the Persian presence included the direct imposition of control through the installation of Persian officials in Greek poleis.28 As we know from Herodotus, the Milesian tyrant Histiaos, then his son-­in-­law Aristagoras, both had interests at the Thracian settlement of Myrkinos.29 Xerxes then marched through the region in his campaign against the Greeks in 480, giving Herodotus the opportunity for a detailed description of the area, with a focus on its peoples and its natural features.30 Archibald argues that this sustained Persian presence in the region can be seen as the impetus for the secondary formation of the more organized kingdoms in Macedon and Thrace.31 Like Histiaios and Aristagoras, certain prominent Athenian individuals had already begun to extend Athenian interests to the North Aegean in the sixth century, most notably Peisistratos.32 This Athenian presence was renewed in the immediate aftermath of the Graeco-­Persian Wars with the capture of Eion at the mouth of the Strymon river, at the direct expense of the Persians who still occupied it; Thucydides later describes it as an Athenian emporion.33 In the 460s, Thasos revolted from the Athenians; Thucydides explicitly says that this was due to disagreements with the Athenians over Thasian interests on the mainland (this will be discussed in detail below in section 4.3).34 The island was retaken by the Athenians after a three-­year siege.35 As is the case with the Pentekontaetia more generally, Thucydides’ account of the years after Thasos’ capitulation is lacking, but the earliest tribute quota lists 25  Thuc. 4.104. 26  Thuc. 4.105. 27  Hdt. 5.2. 28  Hdt. 7.106–7, with specific references to Doriskos and Eion. 29  Hdt. 5.11, 23–4, 126. 30  Hdt. 7.109–27. 31  Archibald (2013) 46; see also Morris (2013) 299 on Darios’ focus on the Aegean ‘setting off a process of rapid secondary state formation’. 32  See Hdt. 1.64 on Peisistratos’ use of revenues from the Strymon region; [Arist.] Ath. Pol. 15.2 on Peisistratos’ foundation of Rhaikelos on the Thermaic Gulf and his acquisition of money and soldiers in the Pangaion region; Kallet (2013) and Davies (2013) on Athenian interest in the North Aegean in the fifth century following the involvement of powerful Athenian individuals in the archaic period. 33  Thuc. 1.98; 4.102 for use of term emporion; see Kallet (2013). 34  Thuc. 1.100. 35  Thuc. 1.101. Picard (2011) argues that changes in Thasian numismatic production should be dated after the Thasian capitulation.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  135 add to the picture of expanding Athenian interest. Argilos, near the mouth of the Strymon, is recorded on the first quota list of 454/3, and Berge, further up the river, is on the list of 452/1.36 The cessation in Thracian tribal minting and the increase in Athenian monetary production around this time may also indicate the expansion of Athenian influence in the region.37 Thucydides then records the foundation of Amphipolis on the Strymon in 438 later in his Histories and out of chronological sequence (see Map 3).38 The foundation evidently did not fit into his historiographical framework for the Pentekontaetia,39 but his delayed, emphatic account when reporting the Spartan takeover certainly highlights Amphipolis’ importance to the Athenians. The region comes sharply into view in Thucydides’ account in his narrative of the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War, when the Corinthian colony of Potidaia on Pallene, the westernmost prong of the Chalkidike, revolted from Athens in 433, along with the Chalkidians and the Bottiaians (both groups in the Chalkidike), with the support of the Macedonian king Perdikkas.40 In 430/29, Potidaia was defeated, its occupants expelled, and Athenian settlers moved in.41 Thucydides reports rumblings of activity in the North Aegean in the second book of the Histories, predominantly due to the machinations of the kings Perdikkas and Sitalkes.42 The region becomes key to his narrative again at the end of the Archidamian War when the Spartan general Brasidas went on a charm offensive in the North Aegean, bringing many allied communities, including Amphipolis, over to the Spartan side.43 The terms of the Peace of Nikias of 422/1 between Athens and Sparta, recorded in full by Thucydides, formally returned many of these communities to the Athenians, including Amphipolis.44 In actuality Amphipolis was never restored;45 the Athenians made plans to retake it on later occasions but never succeeded.46 After this, the region mostly fades out of Thucydides’ narrative until the eighth book. Thasos was turned to oligarchy by the Athenian oligarchs at Samos in 413, and

36  IG I3 259.4 line 22 (Argilos); IG I3 261.4 line 29 (Berge). 37  Kallet and Kroll (2020) 81. 38  Thuc. 4.102. 39  For discussion of this omission, see Hornblower (1996) 324. 40  Thuc. 1.56–67. The close ties between the Chalkidike and Perdikkas are shown by the numismatic record, as the minting cities in the peninsula switched their issues to the same weight standard as Macedonian coins sometime in the 430s bc, and the hoard evidence shows these different coinages circulating together; see Kallet and Kroll (2020) 99. 41  Thuc. 2.70. 42  Thuc. 2.29 on the Abderite Nymphodoros’ brokering of Athenian alliances with Sitalkes and Perdikkas; 2.67 on the Athenian capture of Spartan envoys to Persia in Thrace, with the help of Sadokos, Sitalkes’ son; 2.79 on the Athenian march against the Chalkidians and Bottiaians; 2.80 on Macedonian support for the Spartan expedition against Akarnania; 2.95–101 on Sitalkes’ ex­ped­ ition against Macedonia. 43  Thuc. 4.78–88 on the first stages of Brasidas’ campaign, including the capitulation of Akanthos and Stageira; 4.102–35 for the main narrative, including 4.117–19 for the (ineffectual) agreement of a one-­year truce; 5.2–13 for Kleon’s expedition to Thrace, including 5.10 for the deaths of Kleon and Brasidas. 44  Thuc. 5.18. 45  Thuc. 5.21. 46  Thuc. 5.83; 7.9.

136  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc shortly after revolted from the Athenians once again.47 Xenophon and Diodorus report that the Thasians returned to the Athenian fold at the instigation of Thrasyboulos in 407.48 After the Athenians’ defeat at Aigospotamoi in 405, Lysander sent ships to the region, and all the allied communities revolted from Athens.49

4.2  Athenian Negotiation in the North Aegean This outline of events in the North Aegean of the fifth century is necessarily brief, but it gives a sense of the number of players with conflicting interests attracted to the region because of its unusually rich resources. The Athenians, then, by having ambitions of expansion and exploitation in the North Aegean, necessarily had to manage interactions with a diverse range of polities. Thucydides’ narrative records military engagements, but also embassies and alliances; these categories were porous, and the threat of force would have been underlying in many negotiations. Less aggressive interactions were, as we will see, in some cases essential to ensure access to resources. In the first half of this chapter, I will argue that the diverse political landscape forced the Athenians to adjust the parameters and strategies of their negotiation to the demands of different competitors. Fortunately, the (relatively) rich epigraphic record from Athens concerning the North Aegean allows some analysis of this adjustment. In the following sections, I will consider Athenian negotiation with Greek communities (both individual allied poleis and multi-polis entities) as well with the kings and elites of Argead Macedon and Odrysian Thrace, building on the analysis of Chapter 1. The Athenians’ cultivation of relationships with elite individuals, it will become clear, was crucial to the operation of its negotiation within, but especially beyond, the formal limits of their power.

4.2.1  Negotiation and Publicity: The Allied Poleis of Methone and Aphytis It is perhaps no coincidence that the most striking examples of sustained ne­go­ti­ ation processes between the Athenians and allied poleis in the fifth century come from this region. First, we have the Methone decrees: at least four decrees on one stele, with two surviving, all inscribed at the same time, dating from c.430–423, with the second decree securely dated to 426/5 and the fourth decree and inscription of the monument as a whole to 423 (see Maps 1 and 2).50 Next, there are the 47  Thuc. 8.64. 48 Xen. Hell. 1.4.9; Diod. Sic. 13.72.1. 49 Xen. Hell. 2.2.5–9. 50  IG I3 61 = OR 150; the second decree is dated by the secretary Megakleides and the fourth decree by the secretary Phainippos.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  137 two decrees for Aphytis, inscribed on two different stelai, probably dating from the 420s (see Maps 1 and 2).51 Finally, we should note the Neapolis decrees: three decrees inscribed at different times on the same stele, with the first two preserved, dating from 410/9 and c.408 respectively (see Maps 1 and 3).52 Here I will offer a brief analysis of the decrees for Aphytis and Methone; the context of the Neapolis decrees will be discussed further below in section 4.3.3, vis-­à-­vis the Athenian relationship with Neapolis’ mother city Thasos. The Methone decrees (Figure 4.2) record a series of privileges granted to the Methoneans after a process of negotiation, most notably exemption from tribute (apart from payment of the portion dedicated to Athena),53 debt relief,54 and favourable terms for grain imports from Byzantion up to a certain quota.55 The first Aphytis decree records the granting of similar trading privileges, with direct comparison to the situation of Methone (and perhaps even to the terms of the second Methone decree).56 Awareness of the geopolitical positions of these communities within this important region elucidates why the Athenians engaged in these negotiations, which appear to have been largely reactive and ad hoc, external to the parameters of any controlled process. Methone was situated on the Thermaic Gulf between two natural harbours, sheltered from the north and south winds, close to the mouth of the navigable Haliakmon river, which flowed through Macedon past the royal centre of Aigai. Indeed, Methone was Aigai’s closest harbour. Its location had ensured its integration into Aegean and inland Balkan commercial networks for cen­ tur­ies, and its role as an interface between the two.57 An archaic deposit found by the site’s excavators, containing many inscribed sherds, including over twenty alphabetic inscriptions from c.700 bc, testifies to Methone’s early importance as a place of contact and exchange.58 An (as yet) unpublished fifth-­ century coin hoard, with coins of Alexander I alongside early Athenian owls, shows that Methone was still a link between inland Balkan and wider Aegean networks in the classical period (and note that owls are intriguingly rare in hoards found within the empire).59 The excavation of large-­scale public buildings of the sixth and fifth centuries demonstrates the prosperity likely resulting from this position. Methone had presumably come over to the Athenians at some point in the 430s. It is impossible to know exactly when, as it appears in the tribute quota lists

51  IG I3 62 and 63. 52  IG I3 101 = OR 187; the first decree is dated by the archon. 53  IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 5–9; 29–32. 54  Lines 10–13. 55  Lines 34–41. 56  IG I3 62 = OR 150 lines 2–5. 57  See the excavation report by Besios (2008); Kasseri (2015) for an analysis of archaic pottery sherds from Methone, showing its integration into broad commercial networks. 58  See Besios, Tzifopoulos, and Kotsanas (2012) for the initial publication of the inscriptions; Clay, Malkin, and Tzifopoulos (2017) for proceedings from a recent conference analysing their significance. 59  Kallet and Kroll (2020) Appendix B no. 37, to be published by Gazolis and Psoma.

138  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

Figure 4.2  Decrees for Methone in Macedon with document relief (IG I3 61; c. 430–423 bc). The relief depicts a seated Athena stretching her hand out to Artemis, who is accompanied by a hunting dog. © Acropolis Museum, 2018, photograph by Yiannis Koulelis.

only in the first half of the 420s.60 The Athenians had no other footholds on the west side of the Thermaic Gulf at this time. As reported by Thucydides, they briefly took Therme, near modern-­day Thessaloniki (and unsuccessfully besieged Pydna, just south of Methone), in 431, but restored it to Perdikkas shortly afterwards.61 Methone enabled the Athenians to put pressure on Perdikkas; this is shown by his unhappiness about the Methoneans’ allegiances evident in the decrees themselves (the first decree states that he has countered with a naval and land blockade) and is implied by Thucydides when he records the Athenian use of

60  IG I3 282.2 line 53.

61  Thuc. 1.61, 2.29.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  139 Methone as a base to raid Macedon in 416/15.62 Methone perhaps also helped to facilitate Athenian access to Macedonian timber resources, which will be discussed more below (section 4.2.3).63 Aphytis’ location on Pallene, the westernmost finger of the Chalkidike, where the Athenians had far more allies (other prominent communities on Pallene included Mende and Skione), was not as unusual as Methone’s but proved im­port­ant for the Athenians throughout the 430s and the 420s. Like Methone, Aphytis was first settled in the eighth century.64 It had a fairly large territory in the densely populated peninsula, judging by the distance of several kilometres between the main astu site and the extra-­urban sanctuary of Dionysus.65 In the build-­up to the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War, the Athenians used Aphytis as a base against Potidaia immediately to the north.66 During Brasidas’ campaign in the second half of the 420s, Aphytis remained loyal to the Athenians (unlike other allied communities to the south on Pallene); in this way it provided a barrier against Brasidas’ progress and the loss of Potidaia, which was by then an Athenian settle­ ment. This relationship between Aphytis and Potidaia is shown in the first decree for Aphytis, which triangulates the negotiation process between the Athenians and Aphytaians to include the Athenians at Potidaia.67 It is perhaps no coincidence that two fragments of the famous ‘Standards decree’ were found at Aphytis; as a loyal ally, it would have followed the Athenian directive to inscribe and display this empire-­wide measure.68 In this densely populated and interconnected area, the negotiation processes of different allied poleis impacted on each other. The first Aphytis decree explicitly compares the circumstances of the Methoneans, suggesting reference was made to the Methoneans in the negotiation process.69 Similarly, the presence of numerous Thracian communities in the special rubrics in the tribute quota lists, including two other communities (Haison and the Dikaiopolitai from Eretria) alongside the  Methoneans in the rubric denoting exemption from tribute apart from ­payment of the quota, implies a similar phenomenon.70 The impetus for the negotiation may have come from allied communities who were aware of the success of their peers. With this context in mind, it is interesting to consider the circumstances of publication of the Methone decrees. They were all inscribed at the same time, presumably at the time of the passing of the fourth decree (as indicated by the 62  IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 18–21; Thuc. 6.7. 63  Meiggs (1982) 356. 64  Judging by pottery found at the sanctuary of Dionysus: see Tsigarida (2011). 65  For a summary of recent excavations at Aphytis, see Missailidou-­Despotidou (2009). 66  Thuc. 1.64. Aphytis began minting coins weighing just under 2.0 g around this time; they have been plausibly identified as Attic-­weight hemidrachms, and perhaps provide evidence of the Athenian presence during the siege. See Kagan (2014) 51 n. 19; Kallet and Kroll (2020) 54, 56. 67  IG I3 62 lines 7–9. 68  IG I3 1453 = OR 155. 69  IG I3 62 lines 4–5. 70  IG I3 282.2 lines 51–6.

140  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc heading of the secretary for this decree at the top of the monument; the same hand inscribed all the decrees, which are spaced out evenly across the stone). In a rare alignment of the epigraphic and literary sources, we know exactly when this was, as Thucydides names the secretary Phainippos in 423, at the time of the truce between the Athenians and the Spartans, which failed to call a halt to Brasidas’ campaign.71 It is unclear whether the decrees were inscribed before this on separate stelai or displayed on other materials; but if they were not, it is interesting to speculate as to why the Athenians did not choose to do so. Perhaps the cost was prohibitive, or the decisions were not considered important enough for public display, or other bureaucratic concerns prevented their inscription. Many decrees were not inscribed, after all. It is also possible that the Athenians did not wish to commemorate or advertise their unusual negotiation process with the Methoneans in the first instance. It can, however, be noted with certainty that in 423 the Athenians inscribed all the decrees on a large stele, adorned with a high-­quality document relief—­one of the earliest known examples—­depicting the respective deities of Methone and Athens, Artemis and Athena, grasping hands, and displayed it on the Acropolis. This was the very moment that Brasidas was threatening the Athenian presence in the North Aegean. The high-­quality stele would have advertised what privileges compliance could bring, encouraging emulation. I argued in Chapter 1 that increased Athenian control of the negotiation process through use of the parameters of honorific diplomacy begins to be evident around this time, for example in the honorific language of the second Aphytis decree. The late publication and monumental display of the Methone decrees can perhaps be seen as indicative of the same phenomenon, an increasing Athenian awareness that control and advertisement of negotiation processes could be a useful strategy, especially in a region as important as the North Aegean. In this case it was too little, too late; many allies in the Chalkidike and in the vicinity of the Strymon went over to Brasidas. The Athenians formally wrested back control in the terms of the Peace of Nikias, but some allies gained autonomia from the Athenians, while others never returned to the fold.72

4.2.2  Negotiation with Multi-Polis Entities Individual Greek poleis with highly strategic locations and substantial individual bargaining clout, like Methone and Aphytis, were not the norm in the Chalkidike (see Map 2). The topography of the peninsula—­the three fingers creating a substantial accessible coastline, with low-­lying land suitable for cultivation 71  Thuc. 4.118.11.

72  Thuc. 5.18 reports the terms of the peace in full.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  141 (at least on the western and central prongs; the eastern Akte, now Athos, finger is more mountainous)—resulted in numerous settlement centres, which constantly interacted with each other both by land and by sea. With this settlement pattern, it is unsurprising that some communities in the region opted for cooperation, using collective bargaining power as a means of resistance. They forced the Athenians to negotiate with multi-polis entities rather than individual poleis, and thus to adapt the parameters of the negotiation process. The Chalkidians, a group located in the west of the upper part of the Chalkidike, are the most discussed example of this phenomenon in the North Aegean. They joined together and settled at Olynthos in 433 bc with the encouragement of Perdikkas: And Perdikkas induced the Chalkidians to abandon and demolish their cities on the seaboard, and settling inland at Olynthos, to make that one city a strong place . . . they accordingly demolished their cities, moved inland and prepared for war.73

There is abundant archaeological evidence for the integration of these relocated people into Olynthos.74 Nonetheless, the physical and political realities of the resettlement are not clear. There is much debate as to the extent of the physical relocation to one polis, and whether it also entailed the immediate formation of a federal political state, or whether this was a phenomenon of the fourth century.75 While there is not certain evidence for a state or league in the fifth century (and conceptions conditioned by the better-­attested fourth-­century and Hellenistic leagues are often projected onto the earlier evidence by scholars), some level of cooperation seems certain, as implied by Thucydides’ use of the collective ethnic designation. Further, the Chalkidians started minting coins with the legend ΧΑΛΚΙΔΕΩΝ sometime in the fifth century; it has been argued that the series starts around the time of their revolt, at the end of the 430s.76 Conversely, the appearance of many small Thracian poleis, some previously unattested, in the tribute quota lists in the 430s in the years before the Chalkidian revolt and relocation, perhaps testifies to an Athenian attempt to negotiate with the poleis on an individual basis.77 When describing the revolt of Potidaia and the Chalkidians in 433, Thucydides notes that the Bottiaians also revolted. This was a group also located in the west of the upper part of the Chalkidike. Even less is known about the Bottiaians than the 73  Thuc. 1.58.2. 74  Cahill (2002) 35–7. 75  Unified state organization is implied in the speech of the ambassadors to the Spartans from Akanthos and Apollonia in 383 in Xenophon’s Hellenica (5.2.11–19). See Demand (1990) 74–83. 76  Robinson and Clement (1938) 1–10; Psoma (1997). See also Mackil and Van Alfen (2006) on cooperative coinage more generally. 77  See Chapter 2.2.2.

142  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Chalkidians, but there is a similar debate about whether or not they had a unified political structure.78 Herodotus describes how the Bottiaians had originated in the Thermaic Gulf, but were driven out by the Macedonians; they then settled at Olynthos, but it was taken out of their possession and handed to the Chalkidians by the Persian Artabazos.79 It seems that they were usually represented by Spartolos in the lists (attested from 454/3),80 but in the list of 446/5 they were recorded as a synteleia (Βοττια[ῖοι]) paying the amount usually listed with the Spartolioi.81 Like the Chalkidians, they also started to mint coins in the fifth century.82 The Bottiaians may be a rather obscure group, but there is epigraphic evidence for their interaction with the Athenians. A highly fragmentary Athenian decree records a treaty between the two parties.83 It is conventionally dated to the late 420s (following Meritt);84 while it is likely that it shows a new agreement at some time after the revolt of the 430s, it cannot be dated with any precision. The decree seems to show that the Bottiaians had a common council (boule) and common magistrates (archontes), fuelling the debate about their political organization.85 It also has a list of the individual Bottiaian poleis at the end of the surviving text, with four community names extant on the stone.86 It is best to follow Pernille Flensted-­Jensen’s caution; as with the Chalkidians, it can be concluded that there was some level of cooperation, but not to go so far as to identify a unified state or league. The poleis are shown to have retained individual identities, after all. Even without any certainty as to the degree of Bottiaian political unity, the decree allows some analysis of how Athenian negotiation processes were adapted to interaction with a multi-polis collective entity rather than an individual allied community. The decree takes the form of a treaty with oaths. The surviving text records some of the oath made by the Athenians: I will guard the alliance with the Bottiaians, faithfully and without guile, eagerly, according to the agreement.87

. . . and some of that made by the Bottiaians: We will be friends and allies to the Athenians, faithfully and without guile, and will keep the same friends and the enemies, whoever the Athenians have . . .88

78 Plut. Thes. 16.2 makes reference to an Aristotelian Constitution of the Bottiaians. See Flensted-­ Jensen (1995). 79  Hdt. 8.127. 80  IG I3 259.3 line 24. 81  IG I3 266.2 line 19. 82  Psoma (1996). 83  IG I3 76. 84  Meritt (1925). 85  IG I3 76 lines 10–11. See Flensted-­Jensen (1995) for a summary of the debate. 86  IG I3 76 lines 45–54. 87  IG I3 76 lines 13–15: τὲν χσ[υμμαχία]-|ν πιστ͂ος καὶ [ἀδ]όλο[ς φυλάχσο Βοττι]αίοις προ[θυμόμε]|[ν]ος κατὰ τὰ χ[συ]νκε[ίμενα·]. 88  IG I3 76 lines 17–19: φίλοι ἐσόμε[θα Ἀθεναίοις καὶ χσύμ]μαχοι πιστ͂ο[ς] κα[ὶ] | ἀδόλος καὶ τ[ὸς αὐ]τὸ[ς φίλος καὶ ἐχθ]ρὸς νομῖομε[ν] ℎόσ-|περ ἂν Ἀθενα[ῖοι].

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  143 The language is not that of the oaths used by the Athenians with other allied communities.89 However, the phrase has other parallels, both from Athens and elsewhere.90 It has been identified as a standard ‘anti-­deceit clause’; the (conveniently flexible) concept of faith and lack of guile was an established part of inter-­state treaties, as a late sixth-­century agreement between the Sybarites and the Serdaioi shows: The Sybarites and their allies and the Serdaioi made an agreement for friendship faithful and without guile for ever.91

In the fifth century, the phrase is found in Athenian alliances with parties outside the scope of their empire, and indeed often in agreements with more than one other party, presumably the results of multilateral negotiations, including in the identical decrees for Rhegion and Leontinoi (where the replication of the decrees suggests some kind of coordinated negotiation), and the treaty between Athens and Argos, Elis, and Mantineia.92 Unlike these other groups, the Bottiaians had been in the primary ‘alliance’, in that they had made tribute contributions. Nonetheless, the Athenians framed their negotiation process with the Bottiaians not with the oath and treaty structure they used for other recalcitrant allied communities re-­entering the fold, but with the process they used for negotiations with independent allies. Even if in practice the oaths would have different implications, because of the relative pos­ition of the two parties, the Athenians saw fit to use language that implied greater parity. Their collective bargaining power, perhaps, forced the Athenians into a negotiation process which was more favourable to the Bottiaians. As suggested above, the appearance of individual communities on the lists might show the Athenians (in this case unsuccessfully) attempting to combat such collective action. The Athenians’ more equitable negotiation with the Bottiaians may also have been affected by the particular strategic concerns of the region, particularly if at the time of the treaty the nearby Chalkidians were hostile. The Athenians may have made concessions to gain one of these collective polities in the region as an ally.

4.2.3  Negotiation with the Macedonian Kings Thus far, I have analysed how the Athenians adapted their negotiations to dialogue with strategically located individual allied communities and multi-polis entities with collective bargaining clout. As well as Greek poleis, the political landscape of 89  See Chapter 1.3.1.1. 90  Wheeler (1984); Bolmarcich (2007) 35. 91  ML 10 lines 1–5: ἀρμόχθεν οἰ Συβαρῖ-|αι κ’ οἰ σύνμαχοι κ’ οἰ | Σερδαῖοι ἐπὶ φιλότατ-|ι πιστᾶι κ’ ἀδόλοι ἀε-|ίδιον· 92  IG I3 53 = OR 149 A = AIUK 4.2 no. 4 line 11 (Rhegion); IG I3 54 = OR 149 B lines 23, 26 (Leontinoi); IG I3 83 = OR 165 line 3 (Argos, Elis, and Mantineia) with Thuc. 5.47.1.

144  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc the North Aegean also included Macedonian and Thracian communities, the most powerful of which emerged as kingdoms in the late sixth or early fifth century. The Athenians also had to adjust to the specific requirements of these complex political structures, which were nominally monarchies, but incorporated powerful elite individuals with agency and territory of their own. According to Thucydides, in the second half of the fifth century, the Argead kingdom of Macedon (see Map 2), led by Perdikkas, was a constant thorn in Athens’s side.93 Perdikkas’ deceitfulness was even proverbial in Athens, as demonstrated by the famous fragment of the comic poet Hermippos: Tell now for me, Muses who have your home on Olympos, all the good things that Dionysus brought for people here, ever since he sailed as a trader over the wine-­dark sea in his black ship . . . From Sitalkes, mange for the Spartans; from Perdikkas many ships full of lies.94

But the fragment shows that it was not just Perdikkas’ lies that were well known to an Athenian audience. The lies, crucially, were carried in ships. Although one would not guess it from Thucydides (who focuses more on Perdikkas’ involvement in the conflict between the Athenians and the Spartans), Perdikkas would have been a necessary ally for the Athenians at the times when they needed to ensure access to Macedonian timber resources. In the fourth century, timber was a royal monopoly in Macedon, so good relations with the king were crucial for access.95 This was likely the case in the fifth century also, at least to some extent, as evidence for Athenian negotiation with Perdikkas on matters including timber is provided by a fragmentary inscription recording relations between the Athenians and the Macedonians.96 Suggested dates for this difficult document have ranged from the 440s to 410s.97 The loss of Amphipolis in 424, and thus also easy access to Thracian timber resources, may have been the impetus for more amicable relations between Athens and Perdikkas, providing one possible context.98 The surviving fragments record two decrees. The first decree concerns relations with Perdikkas, but also refers to Arrhabaios of Lynkestis, a semi-­independent 93  See Hammond and Griffiths (1979) 115–36 for a narrative of interactions between Perdikkas and Athens; see Cole (1974) for a rationalization of Perdikkas’ apparent inconsistency. 94  Hermippos fr. 63.1–8: ἔσπετε νῦν μοι Μοῦσαι Ὀλύμπια δώματ᾿ ἔχουσαι, | ἐξ οὗ ναυκληρεῖ Διόνυσος ἐπ᾿ οἴνοπα πόντον, | ὅσσ᾿ ἀγάθ᾿ ἀνθρώποις δεῦρ᾿ ἤγαγε νηὶ μελαίνῃ . . .| καὶ παρὰ Σιτάλκου φώραν Λακεδαιμονίοισι | καὶ παρὰ Περδίκκου ψεύδη ναυσὶν πάνυ πολλαῖς (text and translation by Storey). 95 On timber as a royal monopoly, see the fourth-­century treaty between Amyntas and the Chalkidians (RO 12, Hatzopoulos (1996) no. 1) with Millett (2010) 472–5; Borza (1987) 39; Archibald (2013) 208–11. Psoma (2015) discusses the unreliability of the Macedonian timber supply due to this monopoly and suggests south-­western Asia Minor as an alternative source of timber for the Athenians in the fifth century; Karathanasis (2019) uses archaeobotanical data to consider the particular qualities and locations of Macedonian timber varieties. 96  IG I3 89. 97  See Appendix A.3. 98  Thuc. 4.108.1.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  145 Macedonian group to the north of the Argead kingdom.99 Arrhabaios is also prominent in the measures of the second decree.100 A number of Macedonian individuals are then listed at the end of the two decrees, presumably as ­oath-­takers.101 Indeed, the fragments preserve some of an exchange of oaths. It seems that a similar version of the treaty oath used for the Bottiaians was employed, with the more equitable anti-­deceit clause discussed above. If Thucydides’ representation of Perdikkas’ deceit is accurate, then perhaps the clause, for all its ubiquity, had particular resonance in this instance: I will do and [say] . . . I will keep the same friends and enemies as the Athenians . . . Towards the Athenians . . . justly, without deceit or harm . . .102

The other fragments of the decrees are highly tantalizing. Something is to be sent to Athens: πέμπον Ἀθέναζε.103 This something may have been ships, oars, or unworked timber. A later line in the first decree has been interpreted (and consequently restored) as a measure ensuring that the Athenians had exclusive rights to Macedonian oar exports: [καὶ οὐδένα κο]πέας ἐχσάγεν ἐάσο ἐὰμ μὲ Ἀθε[ναίον] I will allow [no one] to export oars except the Athenians.104

The acquisition of oars was a crucial part of shipbuilding, as oars were over 4 metres long and made of particularly high-­quality timber.105 If the in­ter­pret­ ation is correct, this was an aggressive move on the Athenians’ part, an attempt to gain sole access to the Macedonian timber supply. The commercial concern continues in the second decree, which refers to Arrhabaios in connection with an emporion.106 These were long decrees, with highly specific content. They were presumably the result of a negotiation process which included practical discussion about details of commerce and exchange. It cannot be known from the surviving content of the document whether only oars were being discussed or ship-­building more generally. The latter was even more difficult to facilitate: in antiquity, ships were often constructed close to the source of timber, requiring local ship-­building 99  IG I3 89 lines 1–54; see Thuc. 4. 83, 124–8 for Perdikkas and Brasidas’ campaign against Lynkestis. 100  IG I3 89 lines 55–60. 101  Lines 60–78. 102  Lines 27–9: δράσο κα̣[ὶ ἐρ͂ο . . .] | [ . . . καὶ τὸ]ς αὐτὸς φίλος νομῖο καὶ ἐχθρ̣[ὸς ℎόσπερ ἂν Ἀθεναῖοι . . . ] | [ . . . πρὸς Ἀθε]ν̣αίοι δικαίος καὶ ἀδόλος κα[ὶ ἀβλαβ͂ος]. 103  Line 6. 104  Line 31. 105  Note the proboulos’ securing of a timber supply for oars in Aristophanes’ Lysistrata of 411 (Ar. Lys. 420–4); a Macedonian context for this supply may be implied. On the importance of oars in ­particular, see Meiggs (1982) 119–20; Morrison, Coates, and Rankov (2000) 171–3. 106  IG I3 89 line 56.

146  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc facilities and craftsmen.107 Such a scenario is possibly suggested by Thucydides’ description of Brasidas building triremes on the Strymon after his appropriation of Amphipolis,108 and may be implied in the Athenian decree for King Archelaos, which will be discussed later in this section.109 The fragmentary remains of these decrees show the use of the language of possibility, suggesting that the negotiations were complex, anticipating various future scenarios. Indefinite temporal clauses (ℎόταν), conditional constructions, including negative conditionals protecting against the non-­fulfilment of measures (ἐὰν δὲ μὲ ποῖοσι ταῦ[τα]), and indefinite relative clauses ([ℎ]όστινας ἂν) are present.110 This process was surely made even more difficult by their multilateral nature; the Athenians were not negotiating with ambassadors representing (at least nominally) the homogeneous interests of a unified community, but multiple prom­in­ent individuals within both Argead Macedon and Lynkestis. The use of the interpersonal elite network perhaps implicit in other decrees concerning Greek communities here is entirely explicit; it would have also been a necessary part of the multipolar Macedonian political landscape. It seems at this time that the Argead dynasty was trying to concentrate power at Aigai, perhaps an attempt at centralization in response to Athenian power; simultaneously, the Athenians repeatedly tried to bypass the Argead king and negotiate directly with his rivals. Thucydides tells us that the Athenians attempted to ally with other Macedonian individuals in opposition to Perdikkas, namely Perdikkas’ brother Philip and a shadowy figure called Derdas, with disastrous consequences.111 The inscribed decree perhaps shows a compromise in which the authority of both the Argead king and other powerholders was acknowledged by the Athenians; it was no doubt a difficult balancing act. The Methone decrees also attest to another sustained negotiation process between the Athenians and Perdikkas, forced by Athenian aggression in the region.112 We also know from other sources that prominent Athenian individuals and families cultivated particular ties to Macedonian individuals. Indeed, as noted in Chapter 1, in the second decree for Methone, for instance, Leogoras, the father of the orator Andokides, was appointed as one of the ambassadors to Macedon;113 while Andokides, in a later speech, refers to his own connections with the Macedonian king, and (not coincidentally) his personal access to Macedonian timber used by the Athenian navy, probably at the battle of Kyzikos.114

107  See Blackman (1987) 48. 108  Thuc. 4.108.6. 109  IG I3 117 = OR 188 = AIO 1177. 110  IG I3 89 lines 5, 7, 17. 111  Thuc. 1.57.2–3. Karathanasis (2019) 723 argues that Philip’s territory included some of the best silver firs for ship-­building timber. 112  IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 16–29, 47–51. 113  IG I3 61 = OR 150 line 51. 114  Andoc. 2.11–12.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  147 Another fragmentary decree of a later date also survives, concerning a Macedonian individual and, once again, the acquisition or exchange of oars.115 It is likely that the individual in question is Perdikkas’ successor Archelaos, as he is honoured in connection with timber exports from Macedon. Moreover, the individual’s name is seven letters long, and Archelaos is consistent with the extant traces.116 A date of 407/6, which Osborne and Rhodes see as secure on the basis of the necessary restoration of the archon name, fits in with this interpretation; their dating is supported by Tracy’s identification of the letter-­cutter.117 Other evidence shows that the Athenians were preoccupied with ensuring access to timber resources at this late stage in the war; not only had they lost Amphipolis, but, as Thucydides reports, they urgently needed to renew their fleet after the Sicilian disaster.118 As just noted, Andokides recalls how he used his connections with Archelaos to supply the Athenian fleet before the battle of Kyzikos in 410 bc.119 Moreover, an Athenian decree honouring the Greek individuals Antiochides and Phanosthenes for their supplying of oars probably dates around this same time.120 What remains of the decree for Archelaos shows similarities in subject matter to the earlier decree for Perdikkas, with an added sense of urgency. It refers to oars (κοπέας),121 specific toponyms (ἐγ Μακεδόνιας, Ἀθέναζε),122 and the transport of ships ([τ͂ες δ]ὲ κομιδ͂ες τ͂ον νε[͂ον]).123 It thus seems that the decree concerns not only oars, but the building of ships in Macedonian shipyards. These measures are to be performed ‘quickly’ (τάχιστα);124 if they are not carried out, there is the threat of some kind ‘court’ ([δ]ικαστέριον) action against the re­spon­ sible individual.125 Judging by the remaining fragments, however, the decree for Archelaos was structured and phrased differently to that concerning Perdikkas. In fact, it looks much more like the decree honouring Antiochides and Phanosthenes. After discussing ‘oars’ ([τὸ]ς κοπέας)126 and ‘shipwrights’ (ℎοι τριεροποιοὶ)127, the latter document honours Antiochides and Phanosthenes for ensuring Athenian access to these resources. The decree for Archelaos likewise employs some of the familiar language of honorific diplomacy; for instance, the king is praised for being a ‘good man’ ([ὄν]τι ἀνδρὶ ἀγαθ͂οι).128 From the decree concerning Perdikkas, to that concerning Archelaos, then, several changes are in evidence. We see a shift from a multilateral negotiation with different elite individuals, to singular focus on the king; and also from the 115  IG I3 117 = OR 188 = AIO 1177. See also Walbank (1978) no. 90; Engen (2010) no. 6. 116  IG I3 117 = OR 188 = AIO 1177 lines 1, 25. 117  Osborne and Rhodes (2017) 535; Tracy (2016) 149–80. 118  Thuc. 8.1.3. See Meiggs (1982) 127–8. 119  See again Andoc. 2.11. 120  IG I3 182. See also Walbank (1978) no. 60; Engen (2010) nos. 4 and 5; MacDonald (1981). 3 121  IG I 117 = OR 188 = AIO 1177 line 30. 122  Lines 15, 17. 123  Lines 14–15. 124  Line 10. 125  Line 12. 126  IG I3 182 line 8. 127  IG I3 182 line 9. 128  IG I3 117 = OR 188 = AIO 1177 line 33.

148  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc use of treaty oaths to the institutions of honorific diplomacy. This difference in strategy may have been partially due to internal changes in the Macedonian geopolitical landscape, or to the distinct relationships the Athenians enjoyed (or not, as the case may be) with Perdikkas and Archelaos.129 Archelaos certainly seems to have adopted a more friendly stance vis-­à-­vis the Athenians, cultivating ties with Athenian culture.130 But the decree for Archelaos may also provide evidence for a shift in the way the Athenians used honours to manage different kinds of diplomatic negotiations around this time. In Chapter  1 I argued that, as the century progressed, the Athenians increasingly saw the benefits of demarcating their negotiations with communities within their empire through the institutions of honorific diplomacy. I noted, however, that there are earlier inscribed decrees honouring individuals; they were not necessarily a solely late-­century phenomenon. But the decrees for Archelaos, and for Antiochides and Phanothenes, are perhaps examples of a move towards greater specificity in the language of Athenian honorific decrees for particular honorands;131 indeed, we know that both decrees concern the timber ­supply, whereas earlier inscribed honorific decrees tended to be more generic, and it is often difficult to tell why exactly they were passed. There also other decrees extending honours to powerful non-­Greeks from around this time; we will see a parallel case concerning King Evagoras of Cypriot Salamis in the next chapter.132 Some insights can perhaps be derived from similarities in the fourth-­century record, which provides more evidence for the Athenians honouring foreign potentates, including the grain-­rich Spartokid kings of the Kimmerian Bosporos and, as we will see, the kings of Odrysian Thrace.133 At the end of the century, moreover, after the battle of Chaeronea and the loss of Athenian influence in the Aegean, Stephen Lambert notes an increase in Athenian honorific decrees for Greek individuals, in particular grain traders, alongside a complete drop-­off in the honouring of communities; he suggests that personal relationships became more important for the Athenians, when their influence with communities waned.134 I wonder whether we can see a parallel development at the end of the fifth century, that is to say an Athenian recognition that the awarding of honours to individuals (including those with influence over the supply of resources) could 129  Note that, according to Hdt. 8.136.1, Perdikkas and Archelaos’ predecessor Alexander I had been made an Athenian proxenos in the first decades of the fifth century. 130 For example, through his patronage of Euripides (although his support was not limited to Athenian poets); see Stewart (2021). 131  Note also, for example, IG I3 125, a decree of 405/4 awarding honours including a crown to one Epikerdes of Cyrene, which describes his services to Athenians in Sicily in some detail. 132  Chapter 5.2.6. Note also IG I3 47 = OR 189, an Athenian decree of 406 bc honouring the Carthaginians, with specific mention of particular generals. 133 See IG II3 1 298 = RO 64, a decree of 346/6 bc granting extraordinary honours to Spartokos and Pairisades, rulers of the Kimmerian Bosporos, and their brother, Apollonios; for further honours for the Spartokids, see Chapter 6.2.1. 134  Lambert (2018) 101–2.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  149 be an effective strategy where Athenian power was limited, both within the increasingly unstable empire, but especially beyond it. The likely increased visibility of honours within the context of the Dionysia may have been part of the same development, an attempt to make Athenian honours more desirable to such power­ful individuals. It must also be noted, however, that the negotiation with Archelaos, as much as it may have been part of a wider trend, was rooted in its local context. In Macedon, relationships with varied elite individuals had always been important. Over the course of decades, the Athenians varied their negotiations with the different Macedonian kings and elites in an attempt to find the best way to ensure access to the Macedonian timber supply.

4.2.4  Negotiation with the Thracian Kings The Thracians, like the Macedonians, were also a regional force with which the Athenians necessarily had to interact. Contact between the Athenians and various Thracian groups is abundantly attested in the literary sources, with relationships between Thracians and prominent Athenian elite individuals—­ notably Peisistratos—­stretching back to the archaic period; as I noted above, Thucydides himself provides evidence of these links.135 The cultural interface between Thracian and Greek influences in the coastal North Aegean would also have been porous; the archaeological and epigraphic records show Thracian ties, even Thracian residents, in Greek poleis such as Zone, which was under Athenian control.136 Despite this, it is difficult to pinpoint specific diplomatic interactions. The evidence for the various ‘tribal’ groups, beyond their early fifth-­century coinages,137 is particularly scarce; little is known about their internal organization, let alone their relations with the Athenians. A little more can be surmised about Athenian contact with the Odrysian Thracian kingdom.138 As discussed in Chapter 1, negotiation with the Odrysian king Sitalkes is implied in Thucydides’ narrative, when he reports that Nympodoros, an Athenian proxenos from Abdera, helped the Athenians to conclude alliances with both Sitalkes (who was married to his sister) and Perdikkas.139 Presumably other individuals, perhaps even Thucydides himself, would have had negotiating 135 See Mitchell (1997) for detailed discussion of private relationships between Greeks and Thracians; Sears (2013) for a recent discussion of interaction between Athens and Thrace. 136  Zone was assessed separately to its metropolis of Samothrake in 422 bc: IG I3 77 lines 27–31. For remarkable evidence of Greek–­Thracian interaction at Zone, see Brixhe (2015) no. IV, a late fifth-­century or early fourth-­century inscription with Greek and Thracian text; the Greek includes a reference to asylia (lines 2–3), and seems to be part of an honorific grant. 137  See Kallet and Kroll (2020) 78–9. 138  See Archibald’s (1998) study of the Odrysian kingdom. 139  Thuc. 2.29. See Chapter 1.4.

150  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc influence. Unlike for the Argead kings, there is no fifth-­century epigraphic ma­ter­ ial which allows this relationship to be fleshed out further, but some surmise is possible on the basis of a number of fragmentary fourth-­century inscriptions recording interactions between the Athenians and various Odrysian kings. First, we should consider a decree detailing relations between Athens and Thrace, dated to c.357.140 In 360 King Kotys—­who Demosthenes notes had been honoured by the Athenians with golden crowns and citizenship—­was murdered;141 his son Kersebleptes was then challenged for the throne by two rivals, Berisades and Amadokos.142 These three individuals are named here, alongside other Thracians. Greek poleis also appear to have been party to the negotiation.143 It is difficult to draw conclusions as to what form this decree took, whether oaths were exchanged, and whether it had honorific elements; although honorific diplomatic parameters evidently had defined the earlier Athenian interaction with Kotys. Still, we can see that the Athenians were interacting with several notable individuals. The struggle for the Odrysian succession implied in this decree was a unique circumstance, but it is quite possible that, as with the Macedonian elites in the decree concerning Perdikkas, any Athenian negotiations with the Odrysian Thracians in the fifth century would also have been maintained with multiple individual powerholders. Despite its fragmentary state, however, this document raises a further im­port­ ant consideration for the understanding of the North Aegean in the fifth century, and for the negotiations conducted by the Athenians in the region. It seems that certain Greek poleis (which are restored by the IG editors as being located in the Thracian Chersonesos, to the east of my primary area of focus here; Angelos Matthaiou provides an alternative restoration just referring to Thrace) had fiscal responsibilities to both the Thracians and the Athenians: The Greek poleis in [the Chersonesos] are to pay the ancestral phoros to Berisades and Amadokos and [Kersebleptes], and [the syntaxis] to the Athenians.144

Although much of this measure is restored, the editors’ suggestions seem plaus­ible. The syntaxis was the contribution made by allies to the Athenians during the time of their renewed power in the Aegean in the fourth century, instead of tribute (which the Athenians had promised not to impose in the decree passed in 378/7 asking poleis to join them).145 There is no evidence that any such formal

140  IG II2 126 = RO 47. 141  Dem. 23.118. 142  Dem. 23.170; Rhodes and Osborne (2003) 236. 143  IG II2 126 = RO 47 line 13. 144  Lines 13–16: [τὰς δὲ πόλει]ς τὰς Ἑλληνίδας τὰς ἐ[ν Χερρονήσω]-|[ι ὑποτελούσας Β]ηρισάδει καὶ Ἀμαδόκ[ωι καὶ Κερσ]-|[εβλέπτηι τὸμ φό]ρον τὸμ πάτριον καὶ Ἀ[θηναίοις τ]-|[ὴν σύνταξιν]. Note that Matthaiou (2019), available online at AIO, provides a more conservative text, and, as mentioned above, restores “in Thrace” (τὰς ἐ[πὶ Θρ]-|[άικης]) rather than “in the Chersonesos”. 145  IG II2 43 = RO 22 line 23.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  151 agreements were made between the Athenians and the Odrysian kingdom in the fifth century. Nevertheless, it can easily be imagined that the Athenians and the Thracians had overlapping spheres of authority in the North Aegean, perhaps even overlapping fiscal claims, and that this state of affairs had to be negotiated. As we will see in Chapter 6, the Athenians and the Achaemenid satraps almost certainly made overlapping fiscal demands in Anatolia. A further insight into what negotiations may have looked like is provided by a document also dated to the time of Kotys’ successors. In 1990, an inscription was found built into a Roman fort at Vetren in Bulgaria, detailing Thracian relations with the Greek emporion of Pistiros. The fort is about 2 kilometres away from the archaeological site of Adjiyska Vodenitza, which was consequently identified as the emporion.146 The document regulates the relationship between the Thracians and the so-­called emporitai, as well as other Greeks including citizens of Maroneia and Thasos living in Pistiros and other unnamed emporia. Among other measures, arrangements are made for taxation on mobility: No dues are to be levied on goods imported to Maroneia from Pistiros or from the emporia . . .147

Of course, this document bears no direct significance for relations between Athenians and Thracians in the fifth century. It can be seen, however, that in the fourth century the Greek presence in Thrace was dependent on Thracian compliance and that there was negotiation regarding specific fiscal arrangements, including taxation at emporia. Athenian involvement in the region in the fifth century, which we know entailed a presence at inland emporia, perhaps necessitated similar dialogue, even if it was not so formally conducted or recorded. All in all, I hope to have shown how the highly competitive and diverse en­vir­on­ment of the North Aegean compelled the Athenians to interact with numerous different polities, not just individual allied communities, but also multi-polis entities, and Thracian and Macedonian kings and elites. To maintain their presence in the region and to ensure access to its rich resources, the Athenians adapted their negotiation to the particular demands of each competitor: rewarding important allied communities with considerable privileges; allowing the Bottiaians, with their collective bargaining clout, more favourable terms than for other allied communities; attempting to find the best means of accessing the Macedonian timber supply controlled by the Argead king; and, perhaps, navigating the varied influences of different Thracian powerholders. Indeed, the role of 146  SEG 43.486 = IGBulg V 5557; see Velkov and Domaradzka (1994) for the editio princeps, (1996) for discussion and translation in English. Zosia Archibald’s forthcoming monograph on Pistiros will no doubt give a very helpful overview of the history of the site. 147  SEG 43.486 = IGBulg V 5557 lines 20–4: τέλεα κατὰ τὰς ὁδοὺς | μὴ πρήσσειν, ὅσα εἰς Μαρώνεια[ν] | [εἰσ]άγεται ἐκ Πιστίρου ἢ ἐκ τῶν ἐ-|[μ]πορίων . . .

152  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc individual elite relationships was all the more significant in the negotiations conducted beyond the formal scope of Athenian power, where there were not common political institutions. It is clear why allied poleis such as Aphytis and Methone may have engaged in negotiations with the Athenians, when they received such significant privileges in return. But what did the Macedonians or Thracians have to gain? No doubt the Athenian presence and the threat of force played a role: note the clear difficulties Perdikkas experienced as a result of Methone’s entry into the empire. Potential commercial advantages no doubt also carried weight. The Athenians had plenty of silver to spend on commodities, after all; and the Macedonians in particular, thanks to the growth of Athenian power, had lots of timber, but little access to metal resources.148 The Athenians also exercised control over key emporia, where they could possibly (like the Thracians at Pistiros) offer fiscal advantages or penalties. Finally, as I have emphasized before, the real appeal of Athenian honours to non-­Athenians, and their role in negotiations, should not be discounted.

4.3  Competition with Thasos: Thasos as a Colonial Power Thus far, I have omitted one key player in the region from this analysis: the allied island polis of Thasos. Thasos wielded considerable influence on the mainland, partly through its dependent communities there—­variously identified as apoikiai or emporia—­with whom it maintained strong ties (see Map 3). In the second half of this chapter, I will analyse the various ways in which the Athenians competed with the Thasians and their mainland settlements for control of resources and the opportunity for exploitation. Negotiation, we will see, was not the only tool whereby the Athenians gained a foothold in the region: where expedient, the Athenians also intervened in more direct and rapacious ways. First, some discussion of the Thasian relationship with the mainland is necessary: what competition were the Athenians facing? In what follows, I will mostly abide by what we might call ‘orthodox’ narratives of settlement and colonial relationships; I understand that the archaic reality of mobility and settlement may have been more complicated, but I am interested largely in how the fifth-­century Greeks, not least the Thasians themselves, understood these relationships.149 Ties with the mainland were part of Thasos’ existence almost immediately after its foundation by Parian settlers in the seventh century.150 This is reflected in the 148  See Psoma (1999). 149  For a key contribution questioning the veracity of later foundation narratives when set against the archaic archaeological record, see Osborne (1998). 150  See Graham (1964) 81, (1978) 95; Isaac (1986) 15; Tiverios (2006) 73. For the endurance of ties between Paros and Thasos into the classical period, see the Parian mediation in the treaty between Thasos and Neapolis discussed below in section 4.3.4 (IG 12 5 109).

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  153 poetry of Archilochos, who appears to have been one of the earliest Parian s­ ettlers at Thasos. Both Paros and Thasos are mentioned, alongside martial content and references to Thracians.151 The earliest archaeological finds at some of the mainland communities later identified as Thasian settlements date back to the seventh century, around the same time as or shortly after the first Parian remains at Thasos.152 Despite Archilochos’ testimony, it seems that relations between the Thasians and some Thracian groups were more cooperative than hostile. Sara Owen argues on the basis of the archaeological remains at Thasos Limenas that the Parian settlers perhaps joined a pre-­existing Thracian settlement, which determined the development of the Greek community there.153 Archibald suggests that this ‘cre­ ative synergy’ between Parian seafaring skills and local Thracian mining expertise explains why the Thasians were so successful in the region compared with other Greek groups.154 The location of the polis of Thasos on the northern side of the island, when better natural harbours exist to the east and south, makes complete sense if this relationship with the mainland was part of the original intention of the Parian settlers, or of their Thracian predecessors. The location is not completely unhospitable; hills provide natural fortifications, there is something of a natural harbour and a small but fertile valley.155 Most important, however, is that the polis is at the point closest to the mainland (the pleasant ferry now takes under an hour to mainland Keramoti, as the distance is only 10 kilometres). A small island between Thasos Limenas and Keramoti (where an archaic fortification tower has been excavated) presumably facilitated communication and there is a direct sight line to modern-­day Kavala, ancient Neapolis.156 To compensate for not having the best natural harbour, artificial harbour fortifications were built at an early stage, creating two harbours, one for military use and one for commercial purposes.157 By the time Greek historiography began, the mainland opposite Thasos was regarded as Thasian.158 Herodotus reports how Thasos extracted surplus from the mainland (ἤπειρος); as always, his figures should not be taken as exact, but we can rely more broadly on his description of this exploitation: They derived their revenues from the mainland and from their mines on their own island. From the gold mines of Skapte Hyle they usually collected a total of 151  For example, Archilochos fr. 5 (West). 152  See Tiverios (2006) 79–91 for an overview of archaeological evidence for the settlements of the Thasian peraia. 153  Owen (2009). 154  Archibald (2013) 264. 155  Lazarides (1971) 59. 156  The fortification tower was pointed out to me by Konstantina Panousi. 157  Grandjean and Salviat (2000) 52–7. 158  Graham (1964) 81. Note that neither Herodotus nor Thucydides use the term peraia, which is absent from the ancient sources in general; see Ellis-­Evans (2019) 177–88 for a discussion of the meaning of the term peraia with a focus on the peraia of Mytilene (with 180 n. 77 for Thasos).

154  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc eighty talents, and from those in Thasos somewhat less but still a great amount that the Thasians, who do not even pay taxes on their own crops, regularly derive 200 talents annually from the mainland and the mines, and when rev­ enues are at their highest, they obtain 300 talents.159

Thucydides describes Thasian emporia and exploitation of mines, when he details the reasons for Thasos’ revolt from Athens in the 460s: Some time afterwards occurred the defection of the Thasians, caused by dis­ agree­ments about the markets on the opposite coast of Thrace, and about the mine in their possession.160

Herodotus and Thucydides both also identify individual mainland communities as originally Thasian or under Thasian control.161 Thucydides, in the context of Brasidas’ North Aegean expedition, explicitly calls Galepsos and Oisyme Thasian settlements (ἀποικίαι).162 Herodotus, in his description of Xerxes’ march, says that Stryme, located somewhere between Maroneia and Abdera, was a polis belonging to Thasos (Θασίων πόλις).163 Soon after, he names Pistiros as one of the poleis ‘on the mainland in the territory belonging to the Thasians’ (μετὰ δὲ ταύτας τὰς χώρας Θασίων τὰς ἠπειρώτιδας πόλις παρήιε . . .).164 A number of late fifth-­century Thasian decrees refer to interests on the mainland; I will discuss these in greater detail in section 4.3.4. One refers to ‘officials who are responsible for the mainland’ (οἱ πρὸς τὴν ἤπειρον ἐπιτετραμμένοι),165 while another refers to settlements (ἐν τῆις ἀποικίησιν).166 In the Athenian decree for Neapolis, the Neapolitans are described as Thasian settlers or apoikoi (ἄποικοι ὄντες Θασίον).167 Coinage issued by the fourth-­century Thasian foundation of Krenides (later Philippi) bears the legend ‘mainland of the Thasians’ (ΘΑΣΙΟΝ ΗΠΕΙΡΟ).168 159  Hdt. 6.46. 160  Thuc. 1.100. 161  A number of other communities—­including Apollonia, Antisara, and Akontisma—­are identified as Thasian foundations in later sources; see Constantakopoulou (2007) 235, especially n. 29, for further references and discussion. 162  Thuc. 4.107.3. 163  Hdt. 7.108.2. The location of Stryme is disputed. Some have identified it with a substantial site on the Molyvoti peninsula near modern-­day Komotini, but the excavators are not certain: see Arrington, Terzopoulou, Tasaklaki, Lawall, Brellas, and White (2016). 164  Hdt. 7.109.2. Note there are textual issues with this passage. Some editions (such as the most recent Loeb) do not include Θασίων; it is, however, included in the OCT text. There is an extensive debate around the location of Pistiros; was it located on the coast, as indicated by Herodotus, was it situated inland near the find spot of the aforementioned Vetren inscription, did it move from the coast to the hinterland, or were there two settlements with the same name? I do not need to engage with this debate at length: I will simply state that at the time of Herodotus’ description at least it seems likely that there was a coastal Pistiros, and that I find the identification of Adjiyska Vodenitsa as Pistiros convincing. 165  IG 12 Suppl. 347 = OR 103.2 line 3. 166  OR 176 = Pouilloux 139–62 no. 18 line 7. 167  IG I3 101 = OR 187 = AIO 1176 line 8. 168  Kraay (1976) no. 509.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  155 While there is undeniable evidence for a Thasian presence on the mainland and Thasian connections to mainland communities in the fifth century, there is considerable variation in the language used: what, then, did Thasian power in coastal Thrace actually look like? Did the Thasians wield political or economic control over mainland communities, did they extract surplus through imposing fiscal measures, did they extract resources themselves directly, or did they advance other commercial interests? Arguably all these activities may have occurred through different means at different times. We perhaps need to be more flexible in how we understand Thasian power on the mainland, as the Thasians drew revenues in a variety of ways.169 The Thasians may have only had direct rights to mines at Skapte Hyle, as reported by Herodotus, but the sources imply that they also practised other means of surplus extraction; perhaps including taxation in emporia or profiting through commercial links with the mainland. An early fifth-­century inscription from Thasos regulating wine production shows its importance to Thasos and the involvement of the state in commercial activity at an early stage,170 while the archaeological record shows numerous Thasian amphorae on the mainland.171 Thasian economic links with the mainland are also demonstrated by a high degree of monetary integration in the fifth century, with Thasos and mainland communities using the same weight standard and even, in some cases, the same coin types; Selene Psoma argues that these may have originated on the mainland, close to the mines, before being adopted by Thasos itself.172 As Lisa Kallet points out, the uniformity of this commercial zone is brought into sharper relief by the fact that Andrian Argilos, on the west side of the mouth of the Strymon, minted coins on a different standard.173 Further, different communities on the mainland would have had different kinds of relationships with the Thasians, particularly as not all Thasian dependent communities were located on the coast. A recent discovery of a fifth-­century inscription in the Parian-­Thasian alphabet made of Thasian marble, 12 kilometres north of Amphipolis, which explicitly refers to the Bergaioi, locates Berge a substantial way up the Strymon and shows Thasian links.174 There is also possible evidence for fifth-­century Thasian activity several hundred kilometres inland at Adjiysja Vodenitsa, which, as discussed, has been identified as the emporion of Pistiros. The aforementioned fourth-­century inscription found nearby at Vetren directly testifies to Thasian involvement there in this later period, a connection also implied by the Thasian coins and amphorae found at the site dating to the fifth century.175 The origins of the settlement are unknown, but by the second half of the fifth century it had developed in a sophisticated urban grid 169  See Pébarthe (1999) followed by Archibald (2013) 259. 170 Dated c.470; see OR 103 A = Pouilloux no. 7 = SEG 18.347. 171  Archibald (2013) 200. 172  Psoma (2006). 173  Kallet (2013) 47–8. 174  See Bonias (2000) for the editio princeps; Tiverios (2006) 69; Bonias (2010). 175  SEG 43.486 = IGBulg V 5557 line 33; Archibald (2013) 233–4.

156  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc plan.176 Given the similarity of the fifth-­century fortification walls to those at Thasos (also to those at Samothrake), it is feasible that Thasians were present from early on.177 If there were indeed two settlements called Pistiros, then a link is perhaps also shown by the very name of the emporion, which implies a connection to the coastal polis founded by Thasos. Several considerations arising from this brief discussion need to be emphasized. The evidence does not allow generalizations to be made about Thasian power on the mainland, neither in the vocabulary employed, nor in the kind of control we assume; it needs to be viewed as a heterogeneous phenomenon. Further, change over time must also be taken into account: the Thasian mainland interests described by Herodotus may not have looked the same as those implied in the late fifth-­century Thasian decrees, and explicit testimony for the years in between is lacking. However, it can be concluded that in the fifth century the Thasians exercised influence on the mainland and were successful at conducting commercial activity and extracting surplus there. This was facilitated to some extent by Thasian foundations or dependent communities, at least before the Thasian revolt. Thasian prosperity in the fifth century, shown, for example, by the high-­quality building taking place there during this time, must have been due to some extent to this control and exploitation.178 This prosperity is also shown by Thasos’ high tribute assessment. However, a discrepancy in the tribute quota lists complicates understanding of the fifth-­century Thasian mainland presence even further.

4.3.1  Competition with Thasos: Detachment of Mainland Interests The Athenians were confronted by this significant Thasian presence on the mainland when they began to establish their interests in the North Aegean. Over the course of the fifth century, I will argue, they applied various strategies to compete with the Thasians for resources. Thasos had only one polis. Therefore, at least on the island itself, the Athenians could not weaken the Thasians through segmentation of constituent communities, as they perhaps attempted with the Bottiaians and Chalkidikians. Instead, as Thucydides tells us, the Athenians turned their attention to the mainland, directly detaching Thasian interests after its revolt in the 460s: The Thasians in the third year of the siege obtained terms from the Athenians by razing their walls, delivering up their ships, and arranging to pay the moneys

176  Bouzek (2016). 177  Bouzek (1996); Archibald (2013) 262. 178  Large-­scale public building in allied communities in the fifth century is rare, so the Thasian building is notable; see Osborne (1999a).

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  157 demanded at once, and tribute in future; giving up their possessions on the mainland together with the mine.179

So far, so clear. Thucydides’ account leaves little room for doubt. Problematically, however, an anomaly in the tribute quota lists of the 440s has incited considerable debate as to whether the Athenians restored mainland interests to the Thasians at a later date.180 From the beginning of the lists in 454/3, the Thasians paid 3 talents; but by 444/3 at the latest their contribution had risen tenfold to 30 talents, one of the highest made by any allied community.181 What caused such a great increase in their assessment? To complicate matters still further, some of the communities with known connections to Thasos continued to make separate payments after the increase in the Thasian tribute. Neapolis appears throughout the lists from their inception in 454 with its tribute levels unchanged (paying 1000 drachmas, attested a number of times).182 The record for Berge is less full, but it appears at least five times between 452/1 and 432/1.183 Galepsos continued to pay separately after the mid-­440s but its contribution was reduced around this time, and then again in the 430s; in 454/3 it paid 1.5 talents, in 443/2 it contributed 3000 drachmas and in 433/2 a mere 1000 drachmas.184 Argilos (an Andrian apoikia on the west side of the mouth of the Strymon) paid 10.5 talents in 454/3, but by 446/5 was paying 1 talent.185 Three arguments have been used to explain this perplexing discrepancy. It has been proposed (principally by Pouilloux) that the rise in Thasian tribute was due to the development of the Thasian economy, including the wine trade.186 Meiggs argues that the lower tribute of 3 talents was due to the Thasians paying a separate indemnity after their revolt (as reported by Thucydides); once this was paid off, their tribute assessment was raised once again.187 Most scholars, however, have argued for some form of restoration of Thasian mainland possessions, primarily on the basis of the lists, namely the significant increase in the Thasian tribute at the same time as the decrease in the contributions of Argilos and Galepsos.188 There are other possible explanations for the decrease in the tribute of these two communities, as I will discuss. Nonetheless, it does seem likely to me that the 179  Thuc. 1.101; see also Plut. Cim. 14.2. 180  I will not provide a complete discussion of the extensive debate here; see Constantakopoulou (2007) 236 for further bibliography. 181  Three-­talent tribute shown in unrestored entries in lists for 454/3, 452/1, and 450/1 (IG I3 259.5 line 14, IG I3 261.5 line 20, IG I3 262.4 line 4). Thirty-­talent tribute evident by 444/3 (IG I3 268.3 line 15). See ATL 1 282 for the full record of Thasian tribute levels. 182  For example, see the entirely unrestored entry in 447/6 (IG I3 265.1 line 20). 183  IG I3 261.4 line 29 (452/1); IG I3 280.2 line 43 (432/1). 184  IG I3 259.4 line 15 (454/3); IG I3 270.3 line 3 (443/2); IG I3 279.2 line 35 (433/2). 185  IG I3 259.4 line 22 (454/3); IG I3 266.2 line 30 (446/5). 186  Pouilloux (1954) 108–21. 187  Meiggs (1972) 572, followed by, for example, Picard (1998). 188  For example, Lazarides (1971) 18; Graham (1964) 83; Grandjean and Salviat (2000) 29. Others, such as Brunet (1997), on the basis of Thasian epigraphic material, see Thasian possessions as regained only in the final decade of the fifth century.

158  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc extraordinarily high Thasian tribute assessment relied on extra-­island ex­ploit­ ation, including, but not limited to, commercial activity related to the wine trade. An understanding of Thasian power on the mainland as a complex and het­ero­ge­ neous phenomenon supports the development of a more nuanced approach: a restitution can be envisaged which did not include direct Thasian control over poleis such as Neapolis, Berge, and Galepsos, or direct exploitation of Skapte Hyle and other mines which the Athenians presumably began to exploit.189 It is not clear whether Thasos ever had access to the fiscal structures of all the mainland communities with Thasian connections, even before the Athenians started extracting tribute from them. It seems that the Thasians increased their activity in different areas from those where they had traditionally conducted their exploitation. As the Athenians supplanted the Thasians on the Thracian coast and dominated Aegean trade networks, it seems that the Thasians moved inland, beyond the scope of Athenian control. Archaeological evidence shows development at Adjiyska Vodenitsa at this time, in the middle of the century, as well as probable Thasian involvement. Although neither coins nor amphorae directly attest to the movement of people, they certainly show economic ties and integration. Thasian coins, of the type identified by Picard as minted after the siege and capitulation, and Thasian imitations minted by other communities were dominant in inland Thrace in the fifth century, as shown by the evidence of numerous hoards (with Athenian owls not­ably absent).190 This was a commercial zone where Athenian coins simply did not circulate. Thasian amphorae were increasingly found out of the island’s immediate hinterland in the fifth century, penetrating more and more into inland Thrace, presumably facilitated by emporia.191 In any case, the Athenians would not have been able to enforce total Thasian separation from the mainland, once the siege was lifted. They could have replaced the Thasians in the operation of particular mines or in exploitation in particular communities, but they could not have prevented the Thasians, who were more experienced and had established relationships with the Thracians, from all ex­ploit­ation and commerce on the mainland, especially inland and at emporia which were beyond the reach of the Athenians. And if the Thasians were going to engage in such activity, then it was worth the Athenians’ profiting from it. Perhaps the Athenians realized that Thasos was more successful at extracting surplus or conducting commerce in inland Thracian networks with which they had little experience, and thus that it was more efficient to let the Thasians conduct their various kinds of commercial activity, bring the proceeds back to Thasos, and impose taxes, before skimming off the surplus through tribute. 189  Pébarthe (1999), followed by Archibald (2013) 261. 190  Picard (2011) 86–90; Psoma (2011) 145; Kallet and Kroll (2020) 56. 191  Archibald (2013) 200.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  159 I contend, then, that the Athenians extracted surplus at different levels of the economic food chain. They saw the opportunity for direct exploitation of certain mineral resources or emporia, where precedent had been set by the Thasians or the Thracians, and they took it. It was also beneficial to continue to impose tribute on mainland Thasian settlements, to profit from the economic activity they conducted. The Athenians forcibly supplanted Thasos in contexts of ex­ploit­ation in coastal Thrace, but when the Thasians found new ways to profit, the Athenians saw fit to adjust Thasian tribute to take this economic activity into account. These activities, however, do not form the full story of Athenian strategy in the region in competition with Thasos.

4.3.2  Learning from the Competition: Athenian Foundations in the North Aegean Unlike Thasos, Athens had not been a major player in the ‘colonizing’ movement of the archaic period, which was perhaps surprising for a rich and powerful polis (although, of course, neither had Sparta).192 Rather than founding settlements, or conquering and subjugating neighbouring peoples like the Spartans, Athens had favoured another form of expansion, creating the large territory of Attica, a state of affairs explained in the fifth century (at least by Thucydides) with the aetiology of a synoecism implemented by Theseus.193 There were a few notable exceptions, including Peisistratid activity in the North Aegean (more on which in a moment). There was also an Athenian colonial presence in the sixth century in the Thracian Chersonesos and at Sigeion on the Asiatic side of the Hellespont, but this did not endure prominently in the fifth-­century record.194 Further, by the end of the sixth century, an alternative, peculiarly Athenian model of settlement had emerged, namely the cleruchy. Athenians confiscated overseas land from existing poleis, divided it into lots, and distributed it among Athenian settlers, who maintained Athenian citizenship and ties with Athens. Cleruchs may not even have lived in the cleruchy, but simply derived profits from it. The earliest cleruchy may have been on the island of Salamis;195 by the end of the sixth century, Herodotus reports that the Athenians had established a cleruchy at Chalkis on Euboia.196 These late archaic cleruchies provided the precedent for those in the fifth and fourth centuries. For Alfonso Moreno, one of the key

192  See Graham (1964) 166. 193  See Thuc. 2.15 for this aetiology. 194  Hdt. 6.34–40. See Chapter 6.1.1. 195  The earliest surviving Athenian decree, IG I3 1 = AIO 1672, concerning Salamis is often interpreted as evidence of this (although the term ‘cleruchs’ is restored in the first line). Taylor (1997) 6 in her study of Salamis argues that the evidence for a cleruchy on Salamis is ‘virtually non-­existent’. Certainly, some kind of Athenian control over Salamis in the late archaic period is clear. See Chapter 1.3.1.1. 196  Hdt. 5.77; see Graham (1964) 168–9.

160  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc functions of these cleruchies was agricultural production for Athens, whose own territory could not support its burgeoning population.197 It is striking, then, that the Athenians also started to found settlements in a more ‘typical’ way in the fifth century. It has been noted that these were foundations with ‘imperial’ aspirations.198 However, it has not been emphasized enough that Athenian colonizing—­as opposed to cleruchic—­activity was concentrated mostly in the North Aegean region, where the most successful Greek colonial presence was Thasos.199 As I just noted above, this activity had late archaic precedents. The pseudo-­ Aristotelian Athenaion Politeia remarks that Peisistratos, during his final period of exile, founded an apoikia called Rhaikelos on the Thermaic Gulf, before moving eastwards towards Pangaion.200 Herodotus, without referring to any settlement, notes that Peisistratos used revenues from the Strymon region.201 After the Graeco-­ Persian Wars, the first act of the alliance with its new Athenian leadership was the takeover of Eion at the mouth of the Strymon, which Thucydides later describes as an Athenian emporion (see Map 3).202 This act was clearly very important in the eyes of the Athenians, who (according to Plutarch) erected inscribed herms to commemorate the victory.203 As Lisa Kallet argues, judging by a funerary inscription for a certain Tokes set up by the Parians found at Eion, the Parians and Thasians perhaps had interests there before the Persian occupation; it is conceivable, therefore, that the Athenians were not just dis­ placing the Persians, but prioritizing their own interests before those of the Thasians, in an act of clear rapacity.204 In the same passage, Thucydides describes the Athenian takeover of the island of Skyros, which was on one of the major sea routes from Athens to the North Aegean.205 A scholiast on Aeschines, when describing Athenian defeats at Amphipolis, states that the Athenians also tried to push up the Strymon towards the future site of Ennea Hodoi and Amphipolis (see Map 3) at time of their takeover of Eion.206 Thucydides places this failed attempt at settlement at Ennea Hodoi later, around 465; he describes how the Athenians lost it when attempting to push even further

197  See Moreno (2007) 77–143 for extended discussion of cleruchies. 198  Graham (1964) 192. 199  Note that the other most prominent Athenian settlement of the fifth century, Thourioi (see Diod. Sic. 12.10; Plut. Per. 11.5), was also in a region where there was an existing precedent of foundation; for example, Thourioi’s predecessor Sybaris had wielded power through control of dependent communities: see ML 10. 200 [Arist.] Ath. Pol. 15.2. See Kallet (2013) and Davies (2013). 201  Hdt. 1.64. 202  Thuc. 1.98; 4.102. 203  Aeschin. 3.183–5; Plut. Cim. 7–8. On the importance of herms in general, and those commemorating the Eion victory in particular, see Osborne (1985); on the tradition around the herms see Zaccarini (2017) 66–7. 204  SEG 27.249, 36.586 with Kallet (2013) 46–7. 205  Thuc. 1.98 with Kallet (2013) 51. 206  Scholiast on Aesch. 2.31 with Meiggs (1972) 68, Kallet (2013) 48.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  161 inland.207 Plutarch records another settlement—­a cleruchy—­in the area at a later time, stating that Perikles sent a thousand Athenians to live among the Thracian Bisaltai. We should perhaps be sceptical of such a venture taking place, as Plutarch ascribes settlement activity to Perikles which is not attested in other sources. Scholars for the most part accept—­in my view problematically—­the historicity of Plutarch’s Periklean settlements without question;208 Figueira is correct to see this aspect of Plutarch’s Perikles as in line with his broader literary depiction as a populist and profligate demagogue.209 Even if Plutarch is correct in this instance, however, it can be assumed that he applies the wrong word (cleruchy), as he, like other writers, particularly those of later date, is not exacting in his choice of terminology.210 Corroborating evidence for Athenian colonizing activity around the Strymon in this period can perhaps be provided by the reduced tribute contributions of Argilos and Galepsos noted above, although this suggestion must be made very tentatively. In 438, the Athenians founded Amphipolis on the Strymon; Thucydides’ delayed, analeptic record of its foundation in his narrative of Brasidas’ campaign is unusual, emphasizing the significance of its loss less than two decades after its foundation.211 The archaeological record supplements Thucydides’ narrative; parts of the impressive wall circuit, for instance, can be dated to this time.212 Amphipolis never appears on the tribute quota lists, so presumably the Athenians derived revenues from the settlement directly.213 When describing Brasidas’ takeover, Thucydides highlights these revenues: The news that Amphipolis was in the hands of the enemy caused great alarm at Athens. The city was valuable for the timber it afforded for shipbuilding and the tribute money it brought in . . .214

It is difficult to know exactly where to fit two settlements attested in the epigraphic record into this picture. The case of Brea is well known. A famous inscription documents the foundation of this apoikia somewhere in the Thracian district, but the date and location of the settlement are the subject of huge debate.215 Problematically, Brea is not mentioned in contemporary literary sources (with

207  Thuc. 1.100; see also Diod. Sic. 12.68.2. 208  For example, Stadter (1989) in his commentary. 209  Figueira (1991) 64–6. 210 Plut.Per. 11.5. See Graham (1964) 169–70 on the various vocabulary applied to Athenian settle­ments in literary sources. 211  Thuc. 4.102 with Hornblower (1996) 262; date provided by scholiast on Aesch. 2.31. 212  Koukouli-­Chrysanthaki (2011) 412–13. 213  Evidence for direct exploitation from the region is perhaps provided by the possible restoration of gold from Skapte Hyle ([χρυσίο Σκα]πτεσυλ[ικ͂ο]) in the Acropolis inventories of c.409/8 (IG I3 376 lines 105–6; 118–19). 214  Thuc. 4.108. See Kallet-­Marx (1993) 175–6 on Athenian revenues from Amphipolis. 215  IG I3 46 = OR 142.

162  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc the exception of a fragment of the comic poet Kratinos),216 although it is sometimes associated with Perikles’ settlement among the Bisaltai, reported by Plutarch.217 Woodhead, followed by several other scholars—­his argument has more recently been reiterated by Psoma—­contends that the toponym Beroia reported by Thucydides in his description of the Athenian march to Potidaia in 433 should be emended to Brea, thus placing the settlement on the Thermaic Gulf.218 Given the scarcity of allied communities there, and the influence of Argead Macedon, it seems unlikely to me that Brea was as far west as the Thermaic Gulf; a location further to the east is more likely. Moreover, a date in the 430s, given the evident Athenian interest in the region in the build-­up to the Peloponnesian War, seems plausible (and Kratinos was the dominant comic poet at this time).219 Arguably, however, it is not necessary to know the exact date and location of the foundation of Brea to derive meaningful information from the document, as it provides evidence for the setting up of the settlement. The wording of the decree shows how the Athenians were operating within a paradigm used by other poleis when expanding or claiming new land; this was not a distinctively Athenian venture. There are parallels, for example, between the decree and a late sixth-­century document recording the settlement of new land by a community in Lokris.220 Most obviously, both are concerned with the division of land; but even some of the language of the two decrees is similar. For instance, both threaten to confiscate the land of anyone contravening their terms.221 Aspects of this Athenian foundation, then, were not solely or distinctively Athenian but came from a more widely used model of expansion. We can note another highly Athenian fragmentary decree, also concerning an apoikia, which is seldom discussed.222 It seems very likely that it is also referring to a foundation in the North Aegean, as it refers to oars (τὸς κοπέας)223 and em­poria (τοῖς ἐμπορί[οις]).224 Unfortunately, little more can be made of it. To summarize thus far, Thasos maintained footholds on the mainland partially through foundations or dependent communities. I argue that, for the Athenians, the particular attractions of the region, combined with a rival power with a track record in exploiting these attractions, necessitated a specially targeted response; and so over the course of the fifth century, the Athenians attempted to beat the Thasians at their own game. They applied a different mode of expansion and settle­ment from what they were used to, which, as Thasos had shown, was suited to the region; apoikiai or dependent communities or emporia allowed more direct oversight of resource extraction. Mines or timber could be accessed more directly, and taxes imposed lower down the fiscal food chain than the imposition of tribute. 216  Fr. 426 (Storey). 217 Plut. Cim. 11.5. 218  Woodhead (1952); Psoma (2009). 219  See Osborne and Rhodes (2017) 243 for a date late in the 430s; Appendix A.4. 220  IG 9 I2 3 609 = ML 13 (the commentary points out these similarities). 221  IG I3 46 = OR 142 lines 24–9; IG 9 I2 3 609 lines 9–14. 222  IG I3 47. 223  IG I3 47 line 11. 224  IG I3 47 lines 7–8.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  163 At first, the Athenians were not especially successful: they failed to settle at Ennea Hodoi in the first half of the fifth century, while the obscure apoikiai recorded on stone seemingly had little impact. Amphipolis, however, was clearly a great success, which made its loss less than two decades after its foundation all the more devastating. It is apparent, then, that there was significant diversity in the Athenian approach to exploitation in the region in competition with Thasos. They extracted tribute from mainland communities; directly supplanted the Thasians in control of certain resources; and, when the Thasians continued to profit through other economic activity, adjusted their tribute accordingly. The Thasians also provided precedent for the Athenians to extend their presence in the region through their own settlements, which were not integrated into the tribute system, but could provide a more direct route to exploitation.

4.3.2.1  A Brief Diversion: Corinth, Potidaia, and the Outbreak of the Peloponnesian War My analysis of Athenian strategy in the region in competition with Thasos can also enhance understanding of the Athenian presence in the North Aegean more generally; and can give a new perspective on Thucydides’ account of the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War. In the west of the region, in the immediate aftermath of their settlement of Amphipolis, the Athenians also applied this strategy of foundation to compete with Corinth at Potidaia (see Map 2). Potidaia had been a very lucrative tribute contributor for the Athenians, paying as much as 15 talents (in 433/2 bc).225 Then the community revolted. After a siege, the Athenians expelled the inhabitants and turned it into an Athenian settlement.226 As Thucydides describes, however, Potidaia had originally been founded by the Corinthians and had maintained unusually close ties with its metropolis, receiving magistrates from Corinth on an annual basis: Corinth was forming schemes for retaliation, and Athens suspected her ­hostility. The Potidaians, who inhabit the isthmus of Pallene, being a Corinthian colony, but tributary allies of Athens, were ordered to raze the wall on the Pallene side of the city, to give hostages, to dismiss the Corinthian magistrates, and in future not to receive the persons sent from Corinth a­ nnually to succeed them.227

Moreover, the numismatic record shows that Corinthian colonies, with the not­able exception of Athenian loyalist Corcyra, and with the notable inclusion of the geographically isolated Potidaia (which was the only Corinthian colony in the 225  IG I3 279.2 line 70. See De Ste. Croix (1972) appendix 14 on Potidaian tribute in the 430s. 226  Thuc. 2.70. 227  Thuc. 1.56.

164  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc North Aegean), minted large numbers of coins in the late 430s, presumably to pay for the Corinthian naval build-­up in opposition to Athens.228 These coins all had the same Corinthian iconography, and were differentiated only through letters identifying the minting city. Potidaia, then, while a member of the Athenian empire, had not only been receiving Corinthian magistrates, but had been minting coins for Corinth. Potidaia was strategically placed. The isthmus of Pallene is narrow, taking under 10 minutes to walk. A canal was cut through in the 1930s, where extensive remains of the late Roman fortification wall can be seen alongside; when I visited, this helped me to imagine the wall facing Pallene described by Thucydides. Potidaia had access to the rest of Pallene to the south, to the northern part of the Chalkidike, with harbours looking east to Sithonia and west towards the Thermaic Gulf. The topography of this strategic part of the peninsula did not allow for a rival foundation: to gain control, the Athenians needed to supplant the Corinthians directly. The Athenians were unable to completely eclipse the influence of the Thasians on the mainland, but they successfully established a foothold at Amphipolis by following a pattern set by Thasos. In the immediate aftermath of this foundation, it may have seemed easy to unseat Corinth, which was much less dominant in the region, with the application of a similar strategy. Corinth, however, was already unhappy about Athenian intervention in their foundation at Corcyra;229 further, as Corinth was outside of the Athenian alliance and had strong ties to Sparta, it could not be controlled like Thasos. Athens’s strategy of settlement in the North Aegean, then, had momentous geopolitical consequences, triggering the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War.

4.3.3  Competition through Honour: Athens, Thasos, and Neapolis By the end of the century, we can identify another strategy employed by the Athenians to compete with the Thasians. The Athenians were not just imposing tribute contributions on Thasian mainland settlements and founding settlements of their own in the region but even, in at least one case, building strong bilateral ties with Thasian settlements. The Athenian decrees for the Thasian apoikia of Neapolis testify to a developed political and military relationship between the two parties, the culmination of a sustained negotiation process (see Figure  1.2; see Map 3).230 The negotiation was conducted within the parameters of honorific diplomacy; as I analysed the first decree extensively in Chapter 1, discussion here will be brief.

228  Kagan (2013); summary at Kallet and Kroll (2020) 83–6. 230  IG I3 101 = OR 187 = AIO 1176; see Chapter 1.3.2.2.

229  Thuc. 1.24–55.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  165 Neapolis (at modern-­day Kavala) was itself an important polis with a strategic harbour, significant wealth, and trade connections. Finds from the sanctuary of Parthenos include seventh-­century pottery from as far away as the East Aegean.231 Surviving architectural members from the fifth century show that it had a large and expensive peripteral Ionic temple.232 According to the Athenian decrees, when Thasos revolted in 411, the Neapolitans remained loyal allies to the Athenians. The Athenians awarded the Neapolitans honours in return for their assistance, which included monetary contributions and use of their harbour. There is a direct sightline from Kavala to Thasos Limenas; during the revolt, then, the Athenians had a valuable foothold in full view of Thasos. In the negotiations culminating in the passing of the second decree, the Neapolitans seem to have made a request regarding the wording of the first decree (quotation of the Greek is helpful here): ἐς δὲ τὸ φσέφισμα τὸ πρό[τερον ἐ]πανορθ͂οσαι τὸγ γραμματέα τ͂ες βολ͂ες ⋮ κ̣[αὶ ἐς αὐτὸ μεταγρ]-

[ά]φσαι ἀντὶ τ͂ες ἀποικία̣[ς τ͂ες Θασί]ον ℎότι συνδιεπολέμεσαν τὸμ πόλεμον μ[ετὰ Ἀθεναίον ⋮

In the earlier decree, the secretary of the Council is to make a correction and write in it instead of “colony of the Thasians” that “they fought through the war together with the Athenians”.233

This change to the first decree is visible on the stone: [ἐπ]αινέσαι τοῖς Νεοπ[ολίταις] ⟨τοῖς⟩

παρὰ Θάσον [πρ͂οτον μ]ὲν ⟦erased text: [ὅτι ἄποικοι ὄντες Θασίον] replaced by: ὅτι συνδιεπο[λέμεσ]αν τὸν πόλεμον μετὰ Ἀθεναίο[ν]⟧ [καὶ πολιο]-

ρκόμενοι ⟦erased text: [ὑπ αὐτ͂ον] replaced by: ὑπ[ὸ Θασίον]⟧ καὶ Πελο[πονν]ησίον οὐκ ἠθ[έλησαν ἀ][πο]στῆνα[ι ἀπ Ἀθηναί]ον, ἄνδ[ρες δ’] ἀ̣γ ̣α̣θ̣ο̣ὶ̣ ἐγένο[ντο ἔς τε τὴ][ν στρα]τ[ιὰν καὶ τὸν δῆ]μον τ[ὸν Ἀθηναίον κα]ὶ το[ὺς χσυμμά][χους . . .] To praise the Neapolitans by Thasos, first . . . [[erased text: because, being colonists of the Thasians replaced by: because they fought through the war with the Athenians]] and being besieged

231  Tiverios (2006) 82. 232  Now on display in Kavala Archaeological Museum. 233  IG I3 101 = OR 187 = AIO 1176 lines 58–9.

166  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc [[erased text: by them replaced by: by the Thasians]] and the Peloponnesians, they refused to revolt from the Athenians, and were good men towards the [Athenian army and] People and [the allies . . .]234

There can be no more explicit testimony of Athenian success in intervening in the relationship between Thasos and Neapolis. The Athenian negotiation strategy, defined by the parameters of honorific institutions, was able to loosen the ties between metropolis and settlement; and this coup was monumentalized through inscription and display, not just in Athens, but also in the sanctuary of Parthenos at Neapolis, at the request of the Neapolitans.235 It is difficult to reconstruct the Thasian relationship with its coastal settlements such as Neapolis earlier in the fifth century, and it seems the Thasians increasingly looked towards inland Thrace for opportunities for exploitation; but evidently by the final decade of the century this relationship, perhaps because it was so directly threatened, was once again a relevant issue. Further, the rare survival of non-­Athenian epigraphic material allows exploration of the Thasian perspective on this Athenian intervention. It is to this Thasian material that I will turn in the final part of the chapter.

4.3.4  Learning from the Competition: Thasian Power at the End of the Fifth Century I have argued thus far that the Athenians developed different strategies for competing with Thasian power in the North Aegean and ensuring their own ex­ploit­ ation: direct detachment of their coastal mainland interests, the levying of tribute on both mainland communities and Thasos itself, matching Thasian colonial power with foundations of its own, and interference in the relationship between Thasos and its settlements, in the case of Neapolis through a negotiation process conducted within the parameters of honorific diplomacy. But this competition and adaptation was not unidirectional: not only did Athenian power develop in response to Thasian power, but, in my view, Thasos responded to the Athenian presence. I have already laid out how Thasian commercial interests moved further inland when the Athenian presence grew in coastal Thrace. By the end of the century, moreover, the Thasians (probably during the time of their oligarchy) also attempted to compete with Athens once again

234  IG I3 101 = OR 187 = AIO 1176 lines 6–10.

235  Lines 44–5.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  167 over their coastal settlements, adjusting their use of monumental inscription, and perhaps even their underlying structures of control.236 First, however, it needs to be emphasized that—­ unusually for an allied community—­Thasos had an epigraphic culture independent of the Athenian precedent, with localized characteristics and preoccupations.237 In the fifth century, a number of public documents have been found on Thasos, nowhere near as many as from Athens, but more than from any other allied community. These were made accessible by the foundational 1954 monograph of Jean Pouilloux.238 Documents such as the law concerning behaviour in the streets,239 and the earl­ier of the three laws regulating aspects of the wine trade,240 demonstrate this Thasian epigraphic culture in the early fifth century.241 The wine law is concerned with one of the key components of the Thasian economy, its wine production. As mentioned above, Thasian wine production is amply attested in the arch­aeo­ logic­al record: a huge number of Thasian transport amphorae have been found dating from the archaic period onwards.242 Thasos’ prosperity deriving from its commercial interests, as well as its own local source of high-­quality marble, no doubt allowed for the appearance of these large, well-­cut, expensive inscriptions (see again Figure  4.1 for the ancient quarries excavated on Thasos). But Robin Osborne has also suggested that it was their regulation of these commercial interests and the resulting intense external relationships which led to the Thasians’ distinctive culture of public inscription. Thasian inscriptions perhaps always had an intended external audience. Within this existing tradition, however, there was a new development at the end of the fifth century: a cluster of documents, likely displayed in the Thasian agora, which explicitly attest to Thasian attempts to control activity on the mainland. These documents have usually been dated by scholars to the time of the oligarchy, and Thasian hostility to Athens.243 First, two laws on the same stone offer rewards for denouncers of revolt, the first on Thasos itself and the second in Thasian mainland apoikiai (see Figure 4.3).244 Indeed, the latter document calls for rewards to be given to ‘whoever denounces an uprising that is being plotted in the settlements abroad’ (ὃς ἂν ἐν τῆις ἀποικίησιν ἐπανάστασιν βολευομένην κατείπηι . . .).245 236  I have developed my arguments concerning fifth-­century Thasian documents and their relationship to Athenian epigraphic culture further elsewhere, so will keep my analysis here to the point; see Lazar (Forthcoming a). 237  See Osborne (2009) on this uniquely Thasian epigraphic culture; Liddel (2010) provides a helpful statistical breakdown of Athenian and allied public inscription. 238  Note also Hamon’s masterly (2019) corpus, which provides new editions of Thasian inscriptions from the fourth century onwards. 239  Dated to the 460s; see OR 104 = Duchêne (1992). 240 Dated c.470; see OR 103 A = Pouilloux no. 7 = SEG 18.347. 241  Osborne (2009) 106. 242  Archibald (2013) 200. 243  See Avery (1979). 244  Pouilloux no. 18 = OR 176. See Simonton (2017) 142–6. 245  Pouilloux no. 18 = OR 176 line 7.

168  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

Figure 4.3  Thasian laws concerning informers (Pouilloux (1954) no. 18 = OR 176, Thasos Archaeological Museum). Archive of L. H. Jeffery, Centre for the Study of Ancient Documents, Oxford, printed with the kind permission of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Kavala/Thasos.

Next, two laws on the same stone dating from this period, like the early fifth-­ century document mentioned above, show the typically Thasian concern for the wine trade. The first is likely dated c.420 and seems to control the buying of wine; the second has been dated by scholars to the oligarchy of 411–407, and is concerned with selling.246 It is this second document which is of interest here, as it regulates activity beyond Thasos itself. It refers to ‘the officials for the mainland’ (οἱ πρὸς τὴν ἤπειρον ἐπιτετραμμένοι),247 and attempts to stop Thasian boats from carrying non-­Thasian wine in an area of sea adjacent to a significant stretch of coastline.248 A final document can also be fitted into this context. A list of property ­confiscations, probably dating also to the time of the oligarchy given the subject matter, includes the properties of two Neapolitan individuals;249 Pouilloux directly associates this list with the law concerning informers.250 Even as the Thasians attempted to assert their control on the mainland, then, they also attempted to loosen Neapolitan ties to their island, taking away the Thasian property of Neapolitan individuals, and using public inscription to monumentalize this deprivation.

246  IG 12 Suppl. 347 = OR 103 B i and ii. The later law is partially obscured by a later inscription over the top. 247  IG 12 Suppl. 347 = OR 103 B ii line 3. 248  Lines 8–9. 249  IG 12 8 263 with IG 12 Suppl. p. 151 = OR 177 A. 250  Pouilloux (1954) 145–6. See IG II2 6 = OR 177B for an Athenian proxeny decree, reinscribed after destruction by the Thirty tyrants, honouring the sons of Apemantos; this Apemantos may be one of the individuals from whom property was confiscated by the Thasians, as recorded in the list.

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  169 In sum, Thasos in the late fifth century, certainly during the time of the oli­ garchy, but perhaps not exclusively so, used public inscription explicitly to assert power on the mainland. Like the Athenians’ inscription of decrees concerning allies, the Thasians created procedures to control specific activities in their dependent communities and in commercial interactions more broadly, then monumentalized them through inscription and display. It is entirely possible that the creation of these procedures was a late fifth-­century phenomenon, a change in the Thasian relationship to the mainland triggered by internal political change, shifts in the broader geopolitical landscape, and by the open hostility and competition with the Athenians. As always, however, it is difficult to differentiate changes in epigraphic culture from changes in the underlying geopolitical reality, when no other evidence is available. At the very least, while acknowledging that Thasian epigraphic culture was distinct and independent, I would like to argue that the concern with the mainland visible in these inscriptions shows an increased awareness on the part of the Thasians of the impact of inscribed documents as a display of power. The Thasians were perhaps responding to, even emulating, Athenian epigraphic culture; we know that Athenian inscriptions, not least the decrees for Neapolis, would have been displayed nearby, even in Thasos itself. Indeed, the Thasians used inscription to assert control over behaviour ‘in the settle­ments’ (ἐν τῆις ἀποικίησιν) at just the time when the Neapolitans asked for their status as Thasian ‘settlers’ (ἄποικοι) to be removed from the Athenian epigraphic record. Before drawing this chapter to a close, there is one final document to consider. A fragmentary inscription found on Paros can be identified as an alliance between Thasos and Neapolis, seemingly arbitrated by Delphi.251 Some years later, the top of a stele with a sculptural relief came to light at Delphi; Moretti has convincingly argued that this was the same document inscribed and displayed at Delphi.252 The document can likely be dated to the end of the fifth century, or perhaps the beginning of the fourth, and after the renewal of the Thasian democracy.253 It records a treaty ratified with oaths. Notably, the surviving fragments record part of the Neapolitan oath, which contains a version of an ‘anti-­deceit clause’ otherwise only found in Athenian documents regulating the re-­entry of recalcitrant allied communities into the alliance after a revolt:254 I will not transgress by any means, by any trick or device whatsoever, either in word or deed.255 251  IG 12 5 109 line 4. See Graham (1964) 77–9. Pouilloux (1954) 178–92 incorrectly, I think, identifies this as a treaty between Thasos and Paros. 252  Moretti (1987). 253  Note that by 387 bc the Athenians were once again imposing (or attempting to impose) fiscal obligations on Thasos, in the form of the 5 per cent tax (eikoste): see IG II2 24. 254  See Bolmarcich (2007) 32; Chapter 1.3.1.1. 255  IG 12 5 109 lines 9–10: οὐ παραβ[ήσομαι οὐδενὶ τρόπωι οὐδὲ τέχνηι οὐ]-|δὲ μηχανῆι οὔτε λό̣[γωι οὔτε ἔργωι].

170  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc The use of this clause is revealing for Thasian attitudes towards its settlement. The earlier inscriptions discussed above, for all their claims to mainland control, are very much Thasian epichoric documents. They do not look like Athenian texts linguistically; and they were inscribed on architectural members in the agora, rather than free-­standing stelai. But here direct emulation seems likely; not only is the language of the document reminiscent of Athenian decrees, but it is inscribed on an upright stele with an Athenian-­style document relief. It seems that the Thasians (and not just the hostile oligarchs; perhaps also the restored democrats) learned from Athens’s regulation of relationships with its allied communities and adapted their negotiation with Neapolis at the moment of their renewal of alliance accordingly. It was thus not only the Athenians who adjusted their presence in the North Aegean to compete with the Thasians, but the Thasians too who attempted to match the Athenians. A multi-­directional process of mutual adaptation, even emulation, can be reconstructed.

4.4 Conclusion In the resource-­rich, crowded landscape of the North Aegean, at the periphery of their power, the Athenians were forced to adapt their strategies of negotiation and competition to ensure successful exploitation. In the first half of this chapter, I analysed how the negotiation processes laid out in Chapter 1 were adapted by the Athenians to the specific demands of the region. Strategically located allied communities, multi-polis entities with col­lect­ ive bargaining power, and Thraco-­Macedonian groups including the Argead and Odrysian kingdoms, with kings and powerful elites, necessitated different parameters of negotiation and the navigation of overlapping spheres of authority. Private relationships with elite individuals were even more important here, at and beyond the formal limits of Athenian power. In the second half of the chapter, I turned to the east of the region and the island of Thasos. I showed how the highly successful Thasian model of ex­ploit­ ation, facilitated partly through mainland settlements, forced the Athenians to adopt a number of different strategies to compete. The Athenians directly detached mainland interests from Thasos; when the Thasians established renewed commercial activity, the Athenians profited from this too through the imposition of tribute. Simultaneously, the Athenians imposed tribute on mainland communities; by the end of the century, their intervention in the relationship between Thasos and its mainland foundation Neapolis was even more pronounced, negotiating with the latter within the parameters of honorific diplomacy. Most notably, the Athenians emulated the Thasian colonial model, trying to match Thasian foundations with settlements of their own, operating within a paradigm of expansion which was somewhat unfamiliar to them. I argue that this

Athenian Power in the North Aegean  171 new phenomenon of Athenian settlement in the fifth century was not generally ‘imperial’; it was a direct response to Thasian power in the North Aegean. Analysis of this strategy allows a more developed understanding of Athenian action at Potidaia in competition with another colonial power, Corinth, in the build-­up to the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War, action which had consequences far beyond the region. Finally, Thasian inscribed documents from the end of the century show how Thasian power on the mainland, or at the very least the epigraphic presentation of this power, in turn adapted to, even emulated, the Athenian presence. Not only was Athenian strategy adjusted in the face of Thasian competition and influence, but this process was mutual and multi-­directional. It is clear that the Athenian approach to exploitation was diverse and opportunistic. In the North Aegean, direct exploitation through usurpation of particular assets and the foundation of settlements existed alongside laissez-­faire profiting at the highest level of the fiscal food chain through the imposition of tribute; and the application of force alongside the initiation of negotiation processes. This combination of hands-­off exploitation and targeted intervention on the part of the Athenians will also be apparent in the next region under consideration: the island of Rhodes at the edge of the Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean.

5 Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean The council and the people decided. Despon was secretary, Archeanax proposed: Damoxenos son of Hermon, living in Egypt, is to be inscribed as a proxenos and benefactor of the Lindians in the temple of Athena and he and his descendants are to have tax exemption on import and export both in war and in peace. Polykles, son of Halipolis, is to inscribe this also in Egypt in the Hellenion.1 Lindian decree, before 409/8 bc, found in Egypt . . . If the Eteokarpathians need anything else, the Koans and the [Kni]dians and the Rhodians and those of [the allies] who are able in this area shall [assist] (?) as far as they can . . .2 Athenian decree concerning the Eteokarpathians, c.430s bc, found on Karpathos

5.1 Introduction Throughout the centuries, Rhodes’s strategic position and safe harbours on the boundary between the Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean made the island prosperous. This position attracted the interest of many external powers, from  Demetrios Poliorketes, to the Crusaders, to the Ottoman Empire, to Mussolini. The Athenians, like many who came after, attempted to exploit Rhodes’s prosperity. By the fifth century bc, the island had long been integrated into eastern Mediterranean networks, oriented to Egypt, Cyprus, and the Levant. Moreover, Rhodes was an influential player in its regional context in the southern Aegean.

1  Lindos II 16 App. lines 1–19: ἔδοξε τᾶι βωλᾶι κα-|ὶ τῶι δάμωι· Δέσπων | ἐγραμμάτευε, Ἀρχε|άναξς εἶπε· Δαμόξεν-|ον Ἕρμωνος ἐν Αἰγύ-|πτωι οἰκέοντα ἀγγ-|ράψαι πρόξενον Λι-|νδίων καὶ εὐεργέτ|α̣ν ἐν τῶι ἰαρῶι τᾶς Ἀ-|θ̣αναίας καὶ ἀτέλε-|ιαν ἤμεν καὶ αὐτῶι | καὶ ἐκγόνοις καὶ ἐ-|σαγωγὰν καὶ ἐξαγω-|γὰν καὶ ἐμ πολέμωι | καὶ ἐν | ἰρήναι· ἀγγρ-|άψαι δὲ καὶ ἐν Αἰγύ-|πτωι ἐν τῶ[ι] Ἑλλανί-|ωι Π̣ [ο]λ̣υ̣[κλ]έα̣ Ἁλιπό-|λι̣̣ος· 2  IG I3 1454 = OR 136 = AIO 954 lines 28–33: [ὰ]ν̣ δὲ Ἐτεοκα-|[ρπάθιοι ἄλλο τ]ι δέωνται, Κω-|[ίος καὶ Κνι]δίος καὶ Ῥοδίος | [καὶ ξυμμάχ]ων οἵτινες ἂν δ[υ]-|[νατοὶ ὦσιν] περὶ ταῦτα τὰ χ[ω]-|[ρία ὠφελ͂ε?]ν ὅ τι ἂν δύνωνται.

Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc. Leah Lazar, Oxford University Press. © Leah Lazar 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198896265.003.0006

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  173 Consideration of Rhodes thus allows exploration of two different challenges faced by the Athenians: how they attempted to exploit a lucrative region beyond the scope of their primary sphere of power, into which some allied communities were better integrated; and how Athenian power overlapped and interacted with that of a regionally influential allied community. In this chapter, I will explore these two challenges faced by the Athenians in turn, as far as the sometimes difficult and fragmentary evidence will allow. First, I will analyse the various strategies, from military intervention to indirect extraction, employed by the Athenians to access and exploit the eastern Mediterranean, particularly Egypt. My analysis will necessarily take in this contested region of the Achaemenid empire, Athens and the Piraeus, as well as other allied communities such as Phaselis and Samos. I will consider the role that allied communities played in facilitating Athenian exploitation; I will also explore the overlapping fiscality of the Athenian and Achaemenid empires, and the unusual function of Athenian coinage in this regional exchange. However, I will frame my discussion with consideration of the Lindian decree with which I began this chapter, as this idiosyncratic epigraphic evidence from Rhodes evocatively encapsulates the status of allied communities at the interface of the Athenian Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean. Secondly, I will turn my attention to Rhodes more specifically and its immediate context in the southern Aegean. Digging deeper into the variations in tribute assessment for Rhodes and its environs that I identified in Chapter 2, as well as the decree concerning the Eteokarpathians quoted above, I will explore what Rhodian power in the region may have looked like in the fifth century, and how the Athenians may have responded to it. Rhodian and Athenian power, I will argue, were not always in competition; rather the Athenians at times tolerated local Rhodian influence, with their interests in alignment.

5.1.1  The Island of Three Poleis Before embarking on this discussion, however, some historical and geographical context is necessary. Rhodes is one of the largest islands in the Aegean, situated at its south-­eastern edge, about the same distance from Cyprus as from Athens. For the greater part of the fifth century, Rhodes had three poleis: Kamiros (on the west coast), Ialysos (close to the northern tip of the island, on the west side), and Lindos (midway down the east coast, at the site of a naturally sheltered harbour); see Map 6. The island was already known for these three communities at the time of the composition of the Iliadic Catalogue of Ships.3 For Pindar, composing an ode for the Olympic victor Diagoras of Ialysos, whom we met in Chapter 3, the 3 Hom. Il. 2.653–6.

174  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc three cities provided Rhodes’s defining epithet: τρίπολιν νᾶσον (‘island of three poleis’).4 The poleis acted independently; this can be clearly seen, for example, by their separate minting activities in the late archaic and early classical periods, producing coins of different types on different weight standards.5 While architectural remains dating before the fourth century are rare on Rhodes, extensive votive and funerary finds from the archaic period onwards have been excavated at all three polis sites, attesting to considerable activity.6 There were also various other communities or settlements on the island; these are known from the tribute quota lists, and also from archaeological remains in locations other than the three poleis. Rhodes, as I will discuss in the second half of this chapter, exercised various kinds of influence on smaller neighbouring islands (including Syme and Chalke) and the nearby coast of Karia from the fourth century onwards, and perhaps earlier. Despite Rhodes’s regional importance, conducting an analysis of the island’s interaction with Athens in the fifth century is a fundamentally different exercise to studying the North Aegean, as references to Rhodes in the fifth-­century written record are fairly scarce. Pindar’s ode, as illustrated in an important study by Barbara Kowalzig, provides an invaluable insight into an aristocratic individual, Diagoras, and his construction of Rhodian identity in the 460s bc;7 but Rhodes is absent from the historiographical record for much of the rest of the century, appearing neither in Herodotus’ account of the Graeco-­Persian Wars, nor in Thucydides’ Pentekontaetia and narrative of the Archidamian War. When the theatre of war moved to the eastern Aegean after 413 bc, however, Rhodes finally shows up on Thucydides’ radar;8 and the island also features in the accounts of Xenophon and Diodorus. As a result, we are aware of some key events in Rhodian political history in the final decades of the century, as well as its role in the last stage of the war. First, Thucydides reports that in 411 the Peloponnesians, invited by some ‘powerful’ (δυνατοί)—that is to say oligarchically inclined—­individuals landed on the island and successfully secured the defection of all three cities from Athens, and presumably also a change to oligarchic government.9 The Peloponnesians, according to Thucydides, were ‘hoping to gain an island powerful by the number of its seamen and by its land forces, and also thinking that they would be able to 4 Pind. Ol. 7.18. 5  For a survey of pre-­synoecism Rhodian coinage, see Stephanakis and Demetriou (2015) part A. 6  See Nielsen and Gabrielsen (2004) for a summary of Rhodian archaeological research. 7  Kowalzig (2007) 224–66. 8  References to Rhodes in Thucydides’ final book: 8.41 (Athenian Charminos on the lookout off Syme, Chalke, Rhodes, and Lykia); 8.42 (sea battle between Astyochos and the Athenians off Syme); 8.44, discussed below (the Peloponnesians incite the Rhodian revolt); 8.52 (Peloponnesian fleet at Rhodes); 8.55 (Athenians raid Rhodes, make Chalke their base of operations); 8.60 (both Athenians and Peloponnesians active in area of Rhodes). 9  Thuc. 8.44.

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  175 maintain their fleet from their own allies without having to ask for money from Tissaphernes’.10 Certainly, we are told that the Peloponnesians immediately extracted 30 talents from the Rhodians;11 Thucydides’ account could not make Rhodian wealth any more explicit. Diodorus, providing additional details, claims that the Peloponnesians sent Dorieos, son of Diagoras of Pindaric fame, in support of the revolt.12 From this time, the island was used as a naval base by the Peloponnesians, providing a strategic stronghold for them in the war; the oligarchs seemingly maintained control, and it did not return to the Athenian fold in the fifth century. In 408/7 bc, in a development presumably linked to the changes in 411, the three poleis of Rhodes synoecized. This union was both physical, with a new city, Rhodes, being built at the northern tip of the island in the territory of Ialysos, and political, with the three old cities becoming subordinate tribes of the new polis. Literary references to the synoecism are later and lacking in detail. The most detailed, explicit source is a single line of Diodorus: The inhabitants of the island of Rhodes moved (μετῳκίσθησαν) from Ialysos and Lindos and Kamiros to a city which is now called Rhodes.13

It is difficult to pinpoint exactly what changes occurred as a result of this union. Before this time, while the three poleis had been independent actors, some sense of pan-­island cooperation, even pan-­island identity, had existed; particularly, as Irad Malkin argues, in overseas contexts such as Naukratis in Egypt (more on the emporion of Naukratis shortly).14 In the fifth century, in Pindar’s ode, Diagoras is connected not with his polis, Ialysos, but with Rhodes.15 In other sources, epigraphic and literary, individuals were sometimes identified, or identify themselves, as Rhodian rather than as from an individual polis (a not uncommon phenomenon on multi-polis islands).16 Some small fractional coins struck by the three cities in the fifth century share the obverse type of the horse, suggesting possible local monetary integration.17 The old poleis also endured as centres with important functions after the synoecism, particularly the sanctuary of Athena Lindia at Lindos (see Figure 5.1).18 However, while it must have taken some years to build a completely new city, evidence points to instant activity of a different magnitude by the synoecized polis. 10  Thuc. 8.44.1. 11  Thuc. 8.44.1. 12  Diod. Sic. 13.38.5; see David (1984); Hornblower (2004) 135 for the elite Diagorid family. 13  Diod. Sic. 13.75.1. Note that Diodorus does not use the term συνοικισμός but, in any case, it can refer to a variety of different processes; see Reger (2004). 14  Malkin (2011) chapter 2. 15 Pind. Ol. 7; see Hornblower (2004) 133; Kowalzig (2007) chapter 5. 16  See Constantakopoulou (2005) 5. 17  Gabrielsen (2000) 182; Stephanakis and Demetriou (2015) 100–2. 18  As will be explored by Zachhuber’s forthcoming monograph on the religion of Hellenistic Rhodes.

176  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

Figure 5.1  Sanctuary of Athena, Lindos, Rhodes. Photograph by John Lazar.

New federal coinage was minted straightaway,19 priest lists dating back (in all likelihood) to 407 show the immediate foundation of the federal cult of Halios and an associated calendar reform,20 and many inscriptions attest to the new civic organization of tribes and demes. This synoecized polis of Rhodes would become one of the most powerful players in the Aegean in the Hellenistic period, with extensive sources—­ literary, archaeological, and epigraphic—­ testifying to its activity.

5.2  From the Aegean to Egypt: The Rhodian Proxeny Decrees It is true that we know much more about the Hellenistic synoecized polis than we do about fifth-­century Rhodes. But, in addition to the limited literary references I have just outlined, there are some rare and idiosyncratic Rhodian epigraphic survivals from the late fifth century. These survivals will provide key evidence for my analysis in the first part of this chapter. As I explained in the introduction, I aim to explore the long-­standing, lucrative interaction between the Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean, the Athenians’ shifting strategies to exploit this inter­ action, and the role of allied communities such as Rhodes in facilitating Athenian exploitation. Necessarily, due to the state of the evidence, and the extensive scope

19  Ashton (2001); Stephanakis and Demetriou (2015) part B.

20  Badoud (2015) 159.

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  177 of the interaction itself, my analysis will take me beyond Rhodes, to other allied communities such as Phaselis, and to Achaemenid-­controlled Cyprus and Egypt. But I have chosen to begin with Rhodes, at least, as its fifth-­century epigraphic idiosyncrasy provides crucial and rare non-­Athenian evidence. Let me explain what I mean by epigraphic idiosyncrasy. I opened this chapter with a quotation from a late fifth-­century decree passed by the Lindians, awarding the status of proxeny and related honours, including tax exemption and freedom of mobility, to a certain Damoxenos, who is said to be living in Egypt.21 It was inscribed on a basalt stele, which surfaced on the market in Egypt without an excavation context; it was likely found in the vicinity of Naukratis, the Egyptian emporion in which Greeks were allowed by successive Egyptian authorities to operate. Indeed, the Hellenion sanctuary in Naukratis is mentioned in the decree itself, along with the sanctuary of Athena at Lindos.22 A second decree also survives (Figure 5.2), awarding similar honours to a son of Pytheas in Naukratis, who may have been an ‘interpreter’ (ἑ̣ρ̣μ̣[α]νέα):23 He and his descendants are to have the right to enter and leave with inviolability and neutrality, both in peace and in war.24

Both decrees display an evident focus on mobility, expressed in similar terms. But there are crucial differences between the two documents. The second proxeny was awarded not by the Lindians but by ‘all the Rhodians’ (Ῥο[δ]ίων πάντων), a mysterious and otherwise unattested formulation;25 and the prescript shows that the decree was passed just by the council without the involvement of the people, likely indicative of oligarchic government.26 Nevertheless, the inscription (on a small stele of white marble) was found in the sanctuary of Athena Lindia at Lindos (see again Figure 5.1). The evident similarities between the two decrees indicate a similar date; given that the first proxeny was awarded by the Lindians, the synoecism of 408/7 bc presumably offers a terminus ante quem for that document at least. It is not clear, however, whether the second decree indicates some kind of pre-­synoecism collaboration between the three poleis (which would not be unexpected, especially in the distant, external context of Naukratis),27 or provides early evidence for the newly unified Rhodian state. Indeed, the Lindian sanctuary would continue to be an important context of pan-­Rhodian epigraphic display into the Hellenistic

21  Lindos II 16 Appendix. 22  Lindos II 16 Appendix lines 17–18. 23  Lindos II 16 line 5. 24  Lindos II 16 lines 7–12: κ-ǀαὶ ἤμεν αὐτῶι καὶ ἔσπλ-ǀ[ο]ν̣ καὶ ἔκπλον καὶ αὐτῶ-ǀ[ι κα]ὶ ἐκγόνοις ἀσυλὶ κ-ǀ[αὶ ἀσ]πονδὶ καὶ πολέμο ǀ[καὶ εἰρ]ήνης. 25  Lindos II 16 line 6. 26  Lindos II 16 line 1: [ἔδοξε τᾶι β]ολᾶι. 27  Note that there is also evidence to suggest that documents from Kamiros were placed in the sanctuary of Athena Lindia before the synoecism: see Momigliano (1936) with Tit.Cam. 105.

178  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

Figure 5.2  Proxeny decree of all the Rhodians found at the Sanctuary of Athena, Lindos (Lindos II 16; late fifth century). Archive of the National Museum, Denmark (open licence).

period.28 It is perhaps best not to draw wide-­ranging conclusions about Rhodian political organization in the late fifth century on the basis of these unusual documents alone.29 The documents are also unusual in several respects other than the reference to ‘all the Rhodians’, both in the epigraphic landscape of the wider Aegean and that of Rhodes itself. As I have previously emphasized, Athenian public epigraphic culture was uniquely prolific at this time; there are few inscribed public documents surviving from allied communities in the fifth century, and indeed from communities other than Athens more generally.30 In particular, Athens dominated the inscribed record of honorific decrees;31 these two proxeny grants, along with three other highly fragmentary honorific documents from Rhodes,32 in fact form 28  Again, as will be discussed by Zachhuber’s forthcoming monograph. 29  For discussions of the underlying constitutional arrangements, see Fraser (1951) 51; Berthold (1984) 21–1; Figueira (1993) 316. 30  Statistical analysis provided by Liddel (2010). 31  See again Low (2007) 242; Mack (2015) 224–5; Lambert (2018) 85. 32  Tit.Cam. 103; Lindos II 14 and 15.

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  179 the largest surviving cluster of honorific decrees from any allied community before the fourth century. Along with a treaty and a sacred law dated to the fifth century, the decrees and the three fragmentary documents are also the earliest surviving Rhodian public inscriptions.33 Strangely, however, while inscribed honorific documents would become very common in the wider Greek world in the fourth century and Hellenistic period, the synoecized Rhodian state would never inscribe proxeny decrees again. Decrees more generally were not a significant component of Hellenistic Rhodian epigraphic culture.34 In short, at this point in the late fifth century, the Rhodians inscribed honorific documents when most communities other than Athens were not inscribing; and then when honorific epigraphic culture became ubiquitous, the Rhodians did not participate. As a limited fifth-­century phenomenon, produced during the time of the Athenian empire, one might expect the decrees to look like Athenian documents. The most widespread model, after all, was Athenian epigraphic culture. The Athenians used inscribed monuments to assert their power, both in the context of their own public space and in the public space of allied communities;35 it is likely that the Rhodians would have been exposed to Athenian inscriptions.36 Indeed, both decrees have Athenian-­style prescripts,37 which are not present in the small number of later Rhodian decrees.38 The Lindian decree also contains an Athenian-­style publication clause.39 The inscription of the decrees in a grid pattern (stoichedon) on upright stelai might also indicate Athenian influence.40 But the bulk of the language of both the two more complete decrees, as well as of the more fragmentary documents—­the clauses awarding the privilege of movement in and out of the harbour,41 the specifications that the honorands are to travel ‘with inviolability and neutrality’,42 and the promises that the privileges are to be valid ‘in peace and in war’43—does not look at all like the language of Athenian honorific decrees. To my knowledge, these are the earliest surviving

33 See Lindos II 13, a treaty with Lyktos in Crete; IK Rhod. Per. 251, a decree concerning the cult of the war god Enyalios. 34  Noted by Badoud (2015) 7. 35  For the display of Athenian decrees beyond Athens see Liddel (2003) 83–4. I have explored the complex interaction of these decrees with Athenian epigraphic culture at greater length elsewhere: see Lazar (Forthcoming a). 36  A fragment of the ‘Standards decree’ was found on the nearby island of Syme (IG I3 1453 = OR 155), while a copy of the Athenian decree for the Eteokarpathians was found on Karpathos (IG I3 1454 = OR 136). 37  Lindos II 16 line 1; Lindos II 16 App lines 1–4; see also IK Rhod. Per. 251 lines 1–5. 38  See Rhodes (1997) 265–70 for the language of Rhodian decrees. 39  Lindos II 16 App 16–21; see also IK Rhod. Per. 251 lines 52–5. 40 For stoichedon as an indication of Athenian influence, see Lewis (1997) 52–3. 41  Lindos II 14 line 4; 15 line 11; 16 Appendix lines 12–14: ἐσαγωγὰν καὶ ἐξαγωγὰν; Lindos II 16 lines 8–9: ἔσπλ[ο]ν̣ καὶ ἔκπλο. 42  Lindos II 16 lines 10–11: ἀσυλὶ κ[αὶ ἀσ]πονδὶ; Tit.Cam.103 lines 7–8: ἀσυλεὶ [καὶ ἀσπονδ]ε̣ὶ. 43  Lindos II 16 lines 11–12: πολέμο [καὶ εἰρ]ήνης; 16 Appendix lines 14–15: ἐμ πολέμωι καὶ ἐν ἰρήναι.

180  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc attestations of some of the terms, although they would become more common and widespread elsewhere in later years. Such language seems very much geared towards supporting commercial mobility;44 indeed, the decrees are also unusual for rewarding services performed by the honorand in a context other than his home community.45 In the late fifth century, then, and never again, the Rhodians inscribed proxeny decrees, both at home and abroad; and these decrees were passed to sustain Rhodian commercial interests, certainly in Egypt but perhaps also elsewhere. They provide explicit evidence that the Rhodians, likely during their time in the Athenian empire, maintained connections with Egypt that were considered important enough to be supported and monumentalized through public inscription. I will return to the decrees at the end of my analysis, as I hope to illuminate their idiosyncrasy further; but for now, I wish to emphasize that they provide only one snapshot (albeit an unusual epigraphic one) in a much longer narrative of mobility between the Greek Aegean, including Rhodes, and the eastern Mediterranean, especially Egypt.

5.2.1  A Network Spanning Centuries Rhodes, the most south-­easterly of any large Aegean island, was ideally placed to interact with Egypt, Cyprus, and the Levant (see Map 4). Egypt could be reached in four days, on a route navigable even in winter.46 Strong links between Rhodes and eastern, particularly Egyptian, networks are attested throughout antiquity, not just in these proxeny decrees; and the island was by means alone among Greek communities in maintaining such ties. Various commodities flowed in both directions;47 for the Greek Aegean, grain, papyri, and linen for sails would have been among the most desirable of Egyptian goods, while, as we will see, Greek silver was hot property in Egypt. The archaic evidence for these links is manifold; as it has been much discussed elsewhere, a brief survey here will suffice.48 Herodotus, who maintained a particular interest in Egypt, famously reports that the Rhodians as a collective were among the Greek cities present at the emporion of Naukratis when it was gifted by the Egyptian king Amasis at the end of the seventh century (see again Map 4): 44  For discussion of the decrees in the context of the Rhodian relationship with Egypt, and analysis of the Greek community at Naukratis, see, for example, Bresson (2000) 27–36; Malkin (2011) 85–7; Demetriou (2012) 123–8. 45  As pointed out by Mack (2015) 55 n. 114. 46  See Diod. Sic. 3.34.7 for sailing time between Alexandria and Rhodes with Casson (1971) 287; see [Dem.] 56.30 for the possibility of sailing between Rhodes and Egypt during the winter with Beresford (2013) 17–18. 47  For a discussion of these commodities, see Van Alfen (2016). 48  See, for example, Bresson (2000) chapters 1 and 2; Demetriou (2012) chapter 3.

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  181 Amasis became fond of the Hellenes in general, and he displayed a special warmth for those who came to Egypt by giving them the city of Naukratis in which to live. For those Hellenes who came by sea to visit but not to settle there, he granted land on which they could erect altars and build precincts for their gods. Now the greatest, most famous, and most popular of these precincts is called “the Hellenion”, which was founded jointly by the Ionian cities of Chios, Teos, Phokaia, and Klazomenai, the Dorian cities of Rhodes, Knidos, Halikarnassos, and Phaselis . . . in addition, a precinct of Zeus was founded sep­ar­ate­ly by some Aeginetans, as was a precinct of Hera by some Samians, and a precinct of Apollo by some Milesians.49

For Herodotus, the evidence for Greek–­Egyptian ties was also evident in Greek contexts. He records dedications made by Amasis at the sanctuary of Athena Lindia at Lindos;50 and, even more prominently, he describes the relationship between the Samian tyranny Polykrates and Amasis in some detail.51 Herodotus’ report is backed up by the archaeological record. The site of Naukratis has been known for a long time, and over a century of excavations has taken place there.52 Ceramics from all the cities listed by Herodotus, including Rhodes, have been found.53 Some sherds feature archaic graffiti in Greek, including in Rhodian script.54 The presence of Greeks in archaic Egypt is also evident beyond Naukratis: two of the mercenaries who scrawled graffiti on the great temple at Abu Simbel in the early sixth century, for example, explicitly identify themselves as coming from Ialysos (along with an individual from Ionian Teos, another ‘founding’ city at Naukratis).55 Conversely, Egyptian finds have been excavated in Greek contexts, including in Rhodian sanctuaries.56 It is the Samian Heraion, however, tying in with Herodotus’ Samian–­Egyptian excursus, which perhaps provides the most extensive evidence of Egyptian objects in archaic Greek sacred space.57 Greek craftsmen, including from Rhodes and Samos, also produced their own Egyptian-­style goods, such as faience, showing significant cross-­cultural influence.58

49  Hdt. 2.178. 50  Hdt. 2.182, 3.48; also recorded in the first-­century bc inscribed Lindian Chronicle (Lindos II 2 XXIX). 51 Hdt. 2.182 for guest friendship between Amasis and Polykrates; 3.39–45 for the end of the relationship. 52  For an early excavation report, see Hogarth (1898). 53  Bresson (2000) 26. 54  Johnston (2019). 55  ML 7. 56  See, for example, Kourou (2004). 57  A number of the volumes of the extensive publications on the Heraion excavations focus on objects from Egypt and the Near East: see, for example, Freyer-­Schauenburg (1966) on ivories; Webb (2016) on faience. 58  See, for example, Webb (1978); Webb (2019) for faience at Naukratis.

182  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc The numismatic record supplements this picture. Late archaic and early clas­sic­al hoards from Egypt contain coinages produced by a broad range of Greek mints.59 There was clearly a significant demand for silver, which was not available locally; the coins were in some cases treated as bullion, it seems, given that they were often cut and hoarded alongside other forms of silver. The famous early clas­sic­al Asyut hoard, for example, was composed of almost a thousand Greek coins, many of them cut, among them coins from all three Rhodian poleis.60 While the presence of coins from a particular mint in a hoard need not show a direct connection between the place of issue and the location of burial, it can nonetheless indicate mutual participation in a broader network. While silver was coming into Egypt, varied goods were presumably travelling in the opposite direction back to the Greek world.61 A remarkable Egyptian customs document in Aramaic provides more detail about such exchange and the maintained Greek presence in Egypt after the Achaemenid takeover in the late sixth century.62 Dated to the eleventh year of the reign of a Persian king (most likely the eleventh year of Xerxes’ reign, 475 bc, but possibly the eleventh year of Artaxerxes’ reign, 454 bc), it records taxation on ships passing in and out of an unknown port in Egypt. The majority of the traders in the document are ‘Ionians’, likely a designation for Greeks more broadly;63 there are also six other traders, seemingly from Phoenicia or the Levant.64 The Greeks were taxed partly in precious metal (presumably, at least to some extent, in the form of coinage), and all duties went to the ‘house of the king’, that is to say the Achaemenid royal treasury.65 Briant and Descat, in their influential study of the text, also identify possible references to traders from the Greek city of Phaselis in Lykia (in southern Anatolia).66 If their interpretation is accepted, it strengthens the case for the earlier of the two proposed dates, as Phaselis, which was still under Persian rule in 475 bc, was one of the few Greek cities able to trade with the Achaemenid empire in the years immediately after the Persian defeat; by 454 bc it would have entered the Athenian empire.67 As well as maintaining a strong relationship with Egypt, Phaselis also had long-­standing ties to Greek communities in the Aegean, not least Rhodes; some later sources even identify Phaselis as a Lindian foundation.68 59  Van Alfen (2020) 60–4 provides a breakdown of the contents of the twenty archaic hoards found in Egypt. 60  IGCH 1644; Price and Waggoner (1975). 61  See again Van Alfen (2016). 62  TAD C3.7 = Kuhrt (2007) 681–703, 14 B (a) 10. 63  First example in AR1 line 14; Bresson (2020) 214. 64  For example GG1-­3 line 6; Briant and Descat (1998) 63–4. 65  First example in AR1 line 16. 66  Briant and Descat (1998) 63. 67 Plut. Cim. 12.3. 68  For example Euseb. 93B.2. Phaselis and Rhodes also participated in the same commercial networks; in the early classical period, Phaselite and Rhodian coins circulated together in large numbers in Lykia. See, for example, the early classical Decadrachm hoard from Elmali in southern Anatolia (CH 8.48) with Fried (1987).

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  183 It is notable that these same connections persisted in the longue durée. If we jump forward more than a century, to the time of Alexander, the Demosthenic corpus provides colourful evidence for the role Rhodes and Rhodians played in the grain trade between Athens and Egypt.69 In an entertaining speech, the plaintiff accuses the Athenian Dionysodoros and his business partner Parmeniskos of selling the Egyptian grain cargo in which he had invested in Rhodes, rather than bringing it to Athens as agreed, before making more journeys between Rhodes and Egypt with the ship. Another pseudo-­Demosthenic speech illustrates the prominent position (and less than salubrious reputation) of the Phaselites in trade at Athens.70 Moreover, while much of southern Anatolia, including Phaselis, was at times subject to the Ptolemies, Hellenistic Rhodes maintained a close relationship with the dynasty as an autonomous ally. Diodorus even reports that this affiliation was a key motivation for Demetrios Poliorketes in his famous siege of the island.71 The Hellenistic evidence also shows that Rhodian individuals were not only mobile in commercial networks, but that the Rhodian state derived significant advantage from imposing taxes on mobility in its harbours, some of the only safe stopping places in its vicinity in the eastern Aegean. Although the three original poleis undoubtedly would have benefited from traffic in their harbours before the synoecism (the archaeological record, as described above, shows goods which must have arrived at Rhodes by sea), the construction of the city of Rhodes at the northern tip of the island, which would eventually have multiple harbours, exploited the island’s optimal position further.72 Indeed, according to Polybius, before the Romans made Delos a free port in 166 bc, Rhodian revenue from ­harbour taxes reached an enormous 1 million drachmai per annum.73 To sum up a brief yet wide-­ranging sketch: Rhodes, along with other Greek cities in the eastern Aegean and Anatolia such as Samos and Phaselis, had long-­standing connections with Egypt and the eastern Mediterranean, attested in the literary, archaeological, and numismatic records over the course of ­centuries, both before and after the period of Athenian imperial control in the fifth century. These connections allowed for highly lucrative activity on the part of both in­di­vid­uals and state authorities through commerce and the associated taxation. When these Greek communities fell under Athenian control, then, it should come as no surprise that Athenian interest was piqued by the eastern Mediterranean.

69  [Dem.] 56. 70  [Dem.] 35 with Bresson (2016) 283–4. 71  Diod. Sic. 20.81.4–82.1; Ptolemy I also sent reinforcements to the Rhodians during the siege (Diod. Sic. 20.88.9). His grandson Ptolemy III helped the Rhodians after the earthquake of 227/6 bc (Polyb. 5.89). The Rhodians were also the first to establish a ruler cult of Ptolemy I (Diod. Sic. 20.100.3). 72  Blackman (1999). 73  Polyb. 30.31.12.

184  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

5.2.2  Athenian Interest in the Eastern Mediterranean before the Peace of Kallias The eastern Mediterranean features prominently in Thucydides’ description of the years between the Graeco-­Persian and Peloponnesian Wars, his Pentekontaetia, although (as I will explain) he does not give the full picture of Athenian involvement.74 Thucydides informs us that the earliest attempted Athenian intervention in the eastern Mediterranean in the fifth century consisted of direct military action against the Achaemenids.75 The 460s bc saw a major allied campaign in southern Anatolia, culminating in the famous victory at the Eurymedon river; according to Plutarch, this was the occasion of Phaselis’ integration into the empire.76 Southern Anatolia would have offered its own opportunities for the exploitation of resources, not least timber; but it also would have provided crucial stopping points on the way further east. The numismatic record supplements Thucydides’ laconic account, especially regarding the scale of this military activity. The Athenian issue of the unusually large decadrachm coins (two and a half times the size of the tetradrachms) can no doubt be linked to the profits derived from this campaign (see Figure  5.3).77 Moreover, an enormous, unpublished fifth-­century hoard that has trickled onto the market since about 2017, containing 20,000 Athenian tetradrachms or more, alongside southern Anatolian and Cypriot coins, likely came from southern Turkey and can perhaps be situated in the context of this campaign, although its date is not yet settled; its size indicates that it was no personal store of wealth, but an official stockpile, perhaps intended for the payment of troops.78 Until the 440s or so, the Athenians were also able to extract tribute in Lykia, not just from the coastal city of Phaselis, but also from other communities.79 Athenian ambition did not stop in southern Anatolia. Thucydides tells us that after Eurymedon (likely in the late 460s bc) a very large Athenian fleet, already in Cyprus for unexplained reasons, went on to help the Libyan king Inaros foment a revolt in Egypt:80 74  Ruzicka (2012) 30–4 provides the Persian perspective on Athenian interest in Egypt; Zaccarini (2017) gives a helpful evaluation of the difficult sources attesting to Athenian history in this period and especially to Kimon’s leadership. 75  Diodorus, perhaps unreliably, describes Athenian activity in the region in 470/69 under Kimon (Diod. 11.60–3). 76 Plut. Cim. 12.3. For the role of Phaselis in the Eurymedon campaign see Zaccarini (2017) 114–18. 77  Kallet and Kroll (2020) 17–19; many examples of this limited coinage come from the aforementioned Elmali hoard (dated c.460 bc), which can also be situated in the context of this activity. 78  See Kallet and Kroll (2020) no. 45, favouring a date in the later fifth century. 79  For example, the ‘Lykians’ (Λύκιοι) appear as a collective (see IG I3 261.1 line 30, 452/1 bc) and the Telemessioi appear at least once (IG I3 266.3 line 33, 446/5 bc). 80  Kahn (2008) provides a revised but not universally accepted chronology based on analysis of Greek, Egyptian, and Aramaic sources. For an account of these years focusing on the Cypriot perspective, see Körner (2020).

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  185

Figure 5.3  Athenian decadrachm coin, dated c.460 bc. The obverse side depicts the head of Athena, while the reverse shows a front-­facing owl with its wings outstretched. ANS 1949.119.1. Printed with the kind permission of the American Numismatic Society.

Abandoning a Cyprian expedition upon which they happened to be engaged with two hundred ships of their own and their allies, the Athenians arrived in Egypt and sailed from the sea into the Nile, made themselves masters of the river and two-­thirds of Memphis, and addressed themselves to the attack of the remaining third, which is called White Castle . . .81

A few years later, while the Athenians were also occupied with military engagements with the Peloponnesians on the mainland, the expedition ended in disaster after Persian reinforcements arrived in Egypt.82 This did not prevent the Athenians from sending out another fleet immediately after making peace with Sparta at the end of the 450s: Released from Hellenic war, the Athenians made their expedition to Cyprus with two hundred vessels of their own and their allies, under the command of Kimon. Sixty of these were detached to Egypt at the request of Amyrtaios, the king in the marshes; the rest laid siege to Kition, from which, however, they were compelled to retire by the death of Kimon and by scarcity of provisions.83

81  Thuc. 1.104.

82  Thuc. 1.109–10.

83  Thuc. 1.112.

186  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Corroborating evidence for these campaigns is provided by an inscribed casualty list for the tribe of Erechtheis commemorating the war dead from Cyprus, Egypt, and Phoenicia (which is usually associated with the campaign in support of Inaros).84 But Thucydides, frustratingly enigmatic as he can be, especially in the Pentekontaetia, does not explain the Athenian motivation for these expeditions. Indeed, Thucydides’ literary purpose here may have shaped his account: Lisa Kallet argues that his description of these expeditions implies Athenian over-­ ambition, thus providing an earlier cognate to their doomed Sicilian invasion.85 In reality, however, denying or disrupting Persian access to Cyprus and Egypt would have had strategic value for the Athenians in a number of ways. There would have been considerable spoils in the first instance. Subsequently, they could perhaps have deprived the Achaemenids of significant fiscal revenue and perhaps gained it in their place; Herodotus tells us that the Achaemenid empire claimed an enormous tribute of 500 talents from Cyprus, and the harbour record mentioned above shows the extensive taxation extracted from commercial mobility in Egypt.86 There is, in fact, possible evidence for the Athenian tribute assessment of a community in the Levant: according to the Byzantine grammarian Stephanos, the Athenian antiquarian Krateros recorded the tribute of a community called Doros, which has been identified with the prosperous port of Dor on the Phoenician coast below Mount Carmel (see Map 4).87 Krateros’ record, however, cannot be considered reliable. There are also hints in the sources of Athenian awareness of Egyptian grain resources, although they are later in date. Diodorus mentions grain supplies at Kition in his description of Kimon’s motivations for besieging it.88 Plutarch, in all probability relying on Philochoros (who is referred to in this connection by a scholiast on Aristophanes’ Wasps), describes a gift of grain from an Egyptian king to the Athenians in 445/4.89 Notably, the Athenians relied on allied aid when conducting this military activity. An unusual cluster of Samian inscriptions attests to the Samian decision to commemorate their participation in these Athenian campaigns in their own public space (see Map 1 for Samos). One document likely honours the Samians who fought at Eurymedon,90 while another seems to refer to the Samian participants in the Egyptian expedition in aid of Inaros (‘Memphis’ can likely be restored the beginning of the second line).91 Indeed, a further inscription found in the vicinity of the Heraion explicitly records Inaros’ honouring of a Samian commander.92 Samos, before its revolt of 440 bc, still contributed ships rather than monetary tribute; it is likely that the Athenians were not just making use of simple Samian

84  IG I3 1147 = OR 109. 85  Kallet (2017) 71–2. 86  Hdt. 5.49.6. 87  FGrHist 324 F 1 with ATL 1 483; Meiggs (1972) 102, 420–1; Littman (1990) makes the case with additional use of Semitic evidence; see also Ehrhardt (1990). 88  Diod. Sic. 12.4.1. 89 Plut.Per. 37.3 with Philoch. fr. 90. 90  IG 12 6 277. 91  IG 12 6 279 = OR 110 A. 92  IG 12 6 468 = OR 110 B.

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  187 manpower, but also of the long-­ standing experience and knowledge of the Samians in this region (note again Herodotus’ Samian–­Egyptian excursus). In the 440s bc, there was either a formal peace treaty between the Athenians and the Achaemenid empire, or there was a less formalized cessation of high-­level campaigning.93 I am convinced by the existence of the Peace of Kallias, as the putative treaty is called in modern scholarship. While it is not mentioned ex­pli­ cit­ly in contemporary fifth-­century sources (a classic Thucydidean ‘omission’),94 in my view the oblique contemporary references, combined with the later evidence, make a case in favour of its historicity.95 Not least, as Lisa Kallet argues convincingly, Thucydides does actually seem to allude to the treaty but shows its limitations in his description of the Samian Revolt in 440 bc.96 That said, the question of the peace’s historicity is perhaps not as important for me as for other scholars. First, I am not concerned with the question of the linear development of Athenian power ‘from league to Empire’,97 a narrative in which the peace might be considered a key inflection point. Secondly, as I discuss in this chapter and in Chapter  6, varied interactions (sometimes including open hostilities) were maintained between the Athenians and the Achaemenids regardless.98 However, the peace is an important consideration in the context of southern Anatolia and the eastern Mediterranean. Notably, for my purposes, later sources report that the treaty fixed Phaselis as the eastern boundary of Athenian power.99 Direct Athenian intervention in Cyprus, Phoenicia, and Egypt thus came to an end, and Athenian influence was limited in southern Anatolia. But Athenian interest in the region did not cease entirely. It simply took on a different form.

5.2.3  Traders and Tribute When direct intervention was no longer a possibility, the Athenians developed other strategies to profit indirectly from the lucrative networks between the 93  This has been a subject of considerable scholarly debate, and the relevant bibliography is too voluminous to list here. For a thorough summary of the key sources and scholarly positions, see Meiggs (1972) 129–51, 487–95. Meiggs argues for the authenticity of the peace, as does Badian (1987) in a classic contribution. Hyland (2017) chapter 2 offers a recent take on the Persian motivation in agreeing to the peace. Those who do not accept the historicity of the peace include P. J. Rhodes (1985) 25; (2016) n. 6. 94  The earliest explicit reference comes from Isokrates’ Panegyrikos of 380 (Isocr. 4.120); see also Dem. 15.29; Dem. 19.273–4; Lycurg. 1.73. Theopompos, however, claims that the peace was a fabrication (fr. 115, 154), providing the root of modern scepticism. Diodorus (12.4.4–6) gives a full account of the peace, presumably relying on Ephorus. 95  For example Hdt. 6.42.2; 7.151; Thuc. 8.56.4. Supporting evidence is also perhaps provided by another peace made during the Peloponnesian War, which is sometimes interpreted as a renewal of the earlier treaty; it is mentioned by Andoc. 3.29 and is perhaps referred to in a decree honouring one Herakleides of Klazomenai (IG I3 227 = OR 157 = AIO 313) with Rhodes (2016). 96  Kallet (2017) 73, 78 with Thuc. 1.115–17. 97  A phrase employed, for example, by Rhodes (1985) chapter 4. 98  See again Luraghi (2018). 99  Diod. Sic. 12.4.5; Isoc. 7.80; Isoc. 12.59.

188  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean. There is evidence to suggest that the Athenians took an interest in facilitating the movement of merchants from allied communities with existing connections to the region, specifically those from Phaselis, the new eastern limit of Athenian power (see Map 4). First, Thucydides describes an expedition led by the Athenian general Melesandros in Lykia in 430/29 bc: Six other ships went to Karia and Lykia under Melesander, to collect tribute in those parts, and also to prevent the Peloponnesian privateers from taking up their station in those waters and molesting the passage of the merchantmen from Phaselis and Phoinike and the adjoining continent.100

According to Thucydides, then, as well as ensuring the mobility of merchant ships, Melesandros engaged in extra-­tribute surplus extraction.101 It is note­ worthy that it was Peloponnesians attempting to hinder the passages of these ships. Conversely, as Brice Erickson has argued on the basis of the fifth-­century Cretan archaeological record, the Athenians may have caused problems for ships from the Peloponnese taking alternative routes to Egypt and North Africa.102 After the passage I have quoted, Thucydides goes on to report that the expedition ended in disaster when Melesandros attempted to move into inland Lykia.103 Although Thucydides does not state why the Athenians moved away from the coast, Peter Thonemann has suggested that Lykian timber resources may have been the motivation for this ill-­fated strategy.104 The importance of Phaselis to the Athenians is also shown by an inscribed decree awarding Phaselite individuals, probably traders, privileges in Athenian legal contexts.105 The decree has traditionally been dated to the 450s, shortly after Phaselis’ initial entry into the empire;106 but both Jameson and Papazarkadas have made a not unconvincing case for a date during the Archidamian War, in line with the passage from Thucydides just discussed.107 The decree specifies where trials involving Phaselites are to be held in Athens: Whatever cause of action arises at Athens with any of the Phaselites, the trials are to be held at Athens before the polemarch, as for the Chians, and nowhere

100  Thuc. 2.69.1. As Thonemann (2009) 172 details, Phoinike should probably be identified with the Lykian polis of Phoenix rather than Phoenicia. 101 Kallet-­Marx (1993) 160–4 makes a convincing case that we should not link the money-­ collecting ships with tribute, but rather with more informal extraction. 102  Erickson (2005). 103  Thuc. 2.69.2. 104  See Thonemann (2009); see also Psoma (2015) for the argument, on the basis of numismatic evidence, that the Athenians exploited Lykian timber resources. 105  IG I3 10 = OR 120. 106  Again, see Plut. Cim. 12.3. 107  Jameson (2000); Papazarkadas (2009) 70–1; see Appendix A.1.

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  189 else. Of the other cases covered by judicial conventions, the trials shall be held in accordance with the existing judicial conventions with the Phaselites.108

Privileged individuals, including proxenoi, were also given access to the court of the polemarch, hence why De Ste. Croix convincingly made the case that this measure was a privilege.109 The decree thus shows that there were not insignificant numbers of Phaselite individuals in Athens, given the need to make legal arrangements for them, and that the Athenians afforded them special treatment (as they had done also for the Chians, according to the text itself). It seems highly likely that such individuals would be there in a commercial capacity; certainly, the speech transmitted with the Demosthenic corpus I mentioned above emphasizes the large numbers of Phaselite merchants in Athens in the fourth century.110 It is notable that these individuals were of concern to the state authorities at both Athens and Phaselis. What did the Athenians stand to gain by facilitating the mobility of traders from Phaselis and Phoinike? While some Athenians were likely mobile in these networks, as well as non-­Greek merchants,111 it is clear that the Athenians took a particular interest in the traders from Greek communities with experience both in the Aegean and in the eastern Mediterranean. These individuals would have brought products to the Piraeus; the extent and luxury of the imports flooding into Athens was an Athenian point of pride, even expressed by Perikles in his funeral oration.112 Some imported commodities would also have been particularly needed by the Athenians, such as grain, timber, and linen for ship sails. The Athenians would also have imposed taxation at the Piraeus;113 the more traders using the harbour, the more taxes to be collected. But the Athenians would have also benefited from taxation on mobility in the harbours of the peripherally located allied communities, whose traders were integrated into the eastern commercial networks beyond the scope of the Athenian Aegean. The tribute system, as I have previously discussed, skimmed off the top of communities’ internal fiscal structures; and local taxation on mobility provides a 108  IG I3 10 = OR 120 lines 6–14: ὅ τι ἂμ μὲ[ν] Ἀθ-|[ήνησι ξ]υ[μβ]όλαιον γένηται | [πρὸς Φ]ασηλιτ[ῶ]ν τινα, Ἀθή[ν]η-|[σι τὰς δ]ίκας γίγνεσθαι παρ-|[ὰ τῶι πο]λεμάρχωι, καθάπερ Χ-­|[ίοις, καὶ] ἄλλοθι μηδὲ ἁμ͂ο· τῶ-|[ν δὲ ἄλλω]ν̣ ἀπὸ ξυμβολῶν κατ-|[ὰ τὰς ὄσας] ξυμβολὰς πρὸς Φα-|[σηλίτας] τὰς δίκας ν[α]ι· 109  De Ste. Croix (1961). 110  See the passage of Thucydides just quoted, and again [Dem.] 35. 111  While the fifth-­century evidence is limited (although it is possible that ‘Phoenike’ in the above passage of Thucydides does refer to Phoenicia), note the decree of the early fourth century honouring King Straton of Sidon, which grants tax privileges to Phoenician traders in Athens (IG II2 141 = RO 21 = AIUK 11 no. 1); the Phoenician community in the Piraeus is also evidenced by a number of fourth-­century bilingual grave monuments (for example, that of Artemidoros, IG II2 10270 = AIUK 4.6 no. 11). 112  Thuc. 2.38.2; see also the famous fragment 63 of Hermippos. 113  For taxation at the Piraeus see [Xen.] Ath. Pol. 1.17; Ar. Vesp. 658; Andoc. 1.133–4; Dem. 35.29; Fawcett (2016) 159–60; Chapter 6.3.1.

190  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc convincing explanation for some allied communities’ substantial tribute p ­ ayments.114 Phaselis appears from the early lists paying a fairly large tribute of 6 talents (although it was reduced in later years).115 To return to Rhodes, the three poleis’ combined contribution of 29 talents (in 450–446 bc), is almost equal to the highest contributions recorded in the lists made by the comparably sized islands of Thasos or Aegina, both of which only had one polis (these are Nixon and Price’s biggest ‘big spenders’ from the lists).116 As already noted, according to Thucydides, after the island revolted from the Athenians in 411, the Peloponnesians extracted an enormous 32 talents from it.117 Phaselis and Rhodes would have had varied resources to exploit (not least, in both cases, timber).118 Rhodes, as I will discuss in the second half of this chapter, may have been able to derive revenues from neighbouring communities. But it seems unlikely that these resources alone could have resulted in such high tribute assessments. Taxation in harbours provides a likely explanation; note again the enormity of Rhodian ­harbour revenues in the Hellenistic period, as described by Polybius.119 It should also be emphasized that the Phaselite and Rhodian harbours (and thus tax ­collectors) would not have just been busy in the summer sailing season, as at the Piraeus; unlike the Aegean, which was limited by the inclement winter conditions of the Aegean, the eastern Mediterranean had routes navigable throughout the year.120 The mobility of individuals between these harbours, then, mattered for Athenian fiscal exploitation. This dynamic whereby the Athenians profited from extra-­Aegean eastern networks through the imposition of tribute on peripheral allied communities can be compared to the Athenian exploitation of Thracian mainland networks through Thasos and, as I will argue in the next chapter, that of the Black Sea through communities in the Hellespont, Propontis, and Bosporos. This was a strategy applied by the Athenians in different regional contexts. But evidence equivalent to the testimony showing Athenian interest in Phaselite traders is not attested for these other regions. Moreover, the numismatic landscape of the eastern Mediterranean, especially Egypt, also shows that Athenian exploitation in this region took on a distinctive form.

5.2.4  Traders, Tribute, . . . and Tetradrachms I have already described the considerable demand for Greek silver coinage in Egypt in the archaic and early classical periods. By the second half of the fifth 114  Nixon and Price (1990). 115  For example, IG I3 259.4 line 24. 116  Constantakopoulou (2013) 31. 117  Thuc. 8.44. 118 Theophr. Hist.pl. 4.52; see again Thonemann (2009); Psoma (2015) for timber in southern Anatolia; Meiggs (1982) 46, 133. 119  Polyb. 30.31.12. 120  See, again, [Dem.] 56.30 for the possibility of sailing between Rhodes and Egypt during the winter with Beresford (2013) 17–18.

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  191 century, however, it was not simply Greek silver that found its way to Egypt, but specifically Athenian coins.121 This dominance may have been due to the sat­ur­ ation of the Aegean and beyond with Athenian coinage, and the consequent decline in numismatic production by other cities, leading to an increased recognition of the owls and the quality of their silver in eastern contexts. The result was that late fifth-­century hoards from Egypt are composed almost exclusively of owls; they also feature heavily in hoards elsewhere in the eastern Mediterranean, including in the Levant.122 The demand for Athenian coinage is further evidenced through the production of imitation owls in Egypt and various places in the Levant and Near East from the late fifth century onwards.123 Moreover, the regular treatment of owls in eastern hoards as bullion—­that is to say, their countermarking, cutting, melting—­shows that the line between coinage and commodity, to quote Peter van Alfen, ‘appears far more blurred than it does in the Greek world’.124 The owls, then, sometimes operated as a desirable commodity in their own right. This phenomenon seems to have been understood to some extent at Athens: the chorus of Aristophanes’ Frogs boasts that Athenian coinage was universally recognized among Greeks and barbarians125 while, by the fourth century, Xenophon describes how Athenian silver was worth more in contexts away from Athens.126 In this regard, Egypt and the eastern Mediterranean forms a contrast with inland Thrace, where Thasian and Thasian imitation coinages were the currency of choice, and Athenian owls simply did not circulate. There was likely no conscious policy on the part of the Athenians to promote the owls’ dominance in the eastern Mediterranean or to mint them with a view to commercial use in the region. Coins would have entered the monetary economy primarily through the Athenian state paying for expenditure; so military activity in particular could have a significant knock-­on impact on the use and circulation of Athenian coinage. In the case of the eastern Mediterranean, the Athenian military campaigns in the middle of the century would have entailed a large-­scale insertion of owls in the region, perhaps thus kickstarting the preference for Athenian coinage in commerce, and reducing the need for other coinage to be minted. After the Peace of Kallias, Athenian coins then would have continued to travel to the region in commercial networks from the Aegean more broadly, where they were widely available, and from Athens in particular. As well as the Athenian state inserting cash into the city’s monetary economy through the funding of domestic expenditure, it is possible that new owls also went into circulation through the activity of the individuals to whom the state leased the right to extract silver at Laurion; such individuals would have paid some silver to the authorities, but also presumably minted and retained some for their own use in 121  Kallet and Kroll (2020) 37. 122  Van Alfen (2012) 26. See Duyrat (2016) 311–21 with Map 4 for the circulation of coins with Athenian types in Syria. 123  See, for example, Meadows (2011a). 124  Van Alfen (2012) 22. 125 Ar. Ran. 722–5. 126 Xen. Por. 3.2 with Van Alfen (2012).

192  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc commercial ventures, such as trade or money-­changing.127 Thus, to a certain extent, owl tetradrachms may have functioned as both a coinage and a commodity at Athens too. But just because the Athenians did not create the dominance of their coinage in this region, it does not mean that its widespread desirability did not provide them with various benefits. The Athenian state would have needed to acquire various commodities from the eastern Mediterranean, and it would have no doubt been helpful that Athenian coinage was not just accepted but desirable. Selene Psoma has argued that the large hoards containing Athenian coins in southern Anatolia from the second half of the fifth century can be explained through the Athenian acquisition of timber in the region;128 certainly, the evidence vis-­ à-­ vis Macedon shows state-­ level interest in the timber supply.129 Egyptian materials necessary for ship-­building, such as linen for sails, would also have presumably been acquired and paid for by the state; and although there is very limited evidence for systematic state intervention in the grain trade in the fifth century, it is possible that grain shipments from Egypt also would have been organized to some extent at the state level, on particular occasions.130 More generally, the desirability of the owls in eastern Mediterranean contexts would have facilitated the commercial activity and the consequent benefits to the Athenians that I laid out in the previous section. Given that Athenian coinage was highly desirable in Egypt, and one of the few commodities which could be imported in exchange for the many Egyptian commodities demanded in the Aegean, traders of diverse origins with interests in Egypt would have had to get hold of owls to trade for other goods and to meet local fiscal demands. Therefore, all the mobility, the import of commodities to the Piraeus, and the resulting exploitation at various levels in the fiscal food chain would have been dependent in part on the widespread availability and acceptance of Athenian coinage. Individuals from Athens and elsewhere stood to make considerable gains from this commercial activity and from the popularity of the owls. The commercial activity between the Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean must have been very lucrative indeed, if it made sense for individuals to participate, despite the fiscal obligations imposed at multiple points. Moreover, although the evidence for the fifth century is slight, the Athenians certainly made use of private tax collectors in the fourth century, and may have done so earlier.131 As discussed above, private

127  I am grateful to Jack Kroll for discussing the possibility of such a process with me; see Kroll (2009) 203–5; Van Alfen (2011). For the state’s deriving of profit from mining at Laurion, see Davis (2014). For the individuals with mining leases, see Leese (2021) 97–112. 128  Psoma (2015). 129  See Chapter 4.2.3. 130  Perhaps implied by Andokides at 2.20. See Moreno (2007) 340–1 for a gazetteer of all references to Egyptian grain supplies. 131  See, for example, Xen. Hell. 4.8.27 for Thrasyboulos’ farming out of the tax on mobility at Byzantion (discussed at Chapter 6.3.1).

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  193 individuals also played a key role in silver mining and possibly facilitated the entry of some Athenian coinage into the monetary economy. To tie some diverse threads together: after the Peace of Kallias put an end to their direct intervention, I argue that the Athenians continued to benefit from the lucrative commercial networks between the Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean, including fiscal exploitation both in their own harbours and those of their allies (including Rhodes); and they were, at least to some extent, reliant on non-­ Athenian individuals, including those from allied communities, to facilitate the mobility underlying this exploitation. We know that the Athenians supported the mobility of traders from Lykia in particular. Unlike other regions beyond their primary Aegean sphere, however, Athenian coinage became the dominant numismatic medium of exchange, certainly in Egypt, supporting the Athenians’ exploitation. But thus far I have neglected a key regional player in this analysis. What about Persia?

5.2.5  Fiscal Imposition in Achaemenid Egypt After the Peace of Kallias, the Persians, through the imposition of taxes, would have also benefited from the interregional commercial mobility I have laid out. Strikingly, in Egypt at least, these taxes would have been collected to a significant extent in the dominant monetary medium: Athenian coinage. There was thus a complex dynamic of mutual exploitation, in which the Athenians and the Achaemenids both stood to gain. Indeed, the demand for coined silver in Egypt was driven not just by commercial exchange, but by Achaemenid fiscal imposition. We have already seen how Achaemenid taxation on mobility is attested in the Aramaic record of harbour taxes dating to the first half of the fifth century; some of the tax was levied in the form of precious metal, presumably to a significant extent in the form of coinage.132 But another cache of documents from later in the century grants an even more in-­depth picture of Achaemenid fiscality in Egypt. A dossier now housed in the Bodleian Library contains letters from an archive connected to the late fifth-­century Achaemenid satrap Aršama.133 The letters refer to rents on lands belonging to the king, the satrap, and the satrap’s underlings (forming nested interests that allowed the Achaemenid elite to profit from their imperial domination), and to payments being made in silver.134 And given that late fifth-­century coin hoards are almost entirely composed of Athenian coinage, it is safe to assume that silver mostly

132  Van Alfen (2020). 133  See the three volumes of Tuplin and Ma (2020) for translation, commentary, and analysis of the dossier. 134  Tuplin and Ma (2020 vol. 1) 7.

194  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc meant owls.135 Other contemporary documents, moreover, seem to contain explicit references to the coins.136 Achaemenid fiscality in Egypt, then, as John Ma argues, would have created a need for Athenian cash, which would have trickled down through different levels of the economy; if a tribute, tax, or rent is imposed in a particular medium, then the payees need to have that medium to pay it.137 Further, much of the coinage collected by the Achaemenids would have been taken out of the broader mon­et­ ary economy and stored in Achaemenid treasuries, creating even more demand for silver.138 In short, the Achaemenid fiscal system would have fuelled the demand for owls in Egypt, the Greek fulfilment of this demand, and the Athenian exploitation of this interaction. The commercial network which spanned the Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean, then, allowed not only Athens and its allies, but also Achaemenid Persia, to engage in commerce and exploitation: this was a profitable state of affairs for all involved. But this mutually beneficial arrangement broke down when the Achaemenids got directly involved in the final stages of the Peloponnesian War. The satraps in western Asia Minor, and subsequently Cyrus, supported the Peloponnesians financially; and Peloponnesian rowers were paid, according to Thucydides, in the form of Athenian coinage, at least in the first stages of the Ionian War.139 Some of these coins may have come directly from Egypt: as Alain Bresson points out, ‘the paradox was that the mass of Athenian silver that reached the [Achaemenid] empire in the previous decades, and especially between 449 and the 410s, in the end turned against Athens’.140 By the final years of the century, under the leadership of Lysander, troops were increasingly paid in Chian and Persian weight coinages, not owls;141 but these coins too may have been produced to some extent from silver collected in Egypt. In short, the movement of owls east had an unexpectedly catastrophic consequence for the Athenians. But even when their strat­ egies for eastern Mediterranean exploitation were disrupted in these final stages of the war, the Athenians once again adapted.

5.2.6  Honouring Evagoras The disruption in the Aegean in the final stage of the war, as well as instability in the Achaemenid eastern Mediterranean, clearly caused issues for the Athenians; but new opportunities also emerged. While the Athenians lost control of strategic allied communities including Rhodes (although notably not Samos, which was

135  Ma (2020) 196. 136  Bresson (2020) 221. 137  Ma (2020) 200–1. 138  Bresson (2020) 248. 139  Thuc 8.29.1: δραχμήν Ἀττικήν; 8.45.2; see also Xen. Hell. 1.5.1–7. 140  Bresson (2020) 248. 141  Karwiese (1980); Meadows (2011b) 286–92; Ellis-­Evans (2016).

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  195 rewarded for its loyalty),142 and thus their indirect access to eastern networks, the Persians were faced with uncertainty in Cyprus and in Egypt.143 Presumably in response to this change in the geopolitical order, the Athenians aimed for a friendlier relationship with Cyprus, specifically with the new king of Salamis, Evagoras (see Map 4). Cyprus was formed of a patchwork of cities, ruled by kings, none of whom seems to have attained island-­wide dominance in the fifth century.144 Then Evagoras, after a period of exile, returned to Salamis and seized power around 411.145 Hostile to the Achaemenids,146 he positioned himself more in relation to the wider Greek world than previous Cypriot rulers; for example, he was the first Cypriot king to include Greek letters alongside Cypriot syllabic script on his coins.147 According to Isokrates (in an encomium commissioned by Evagoras’ son after his death), he claimed descent from the mythical founder of the island of Salamis, Teukros, a myth that would have supported links with Athens in ­particular.148 Euripides’ direct reference to Teukros and Salamis in his Helen of 412 can be seen to allude to Athenian relations with Cyprus at this time;149 and shows that Evagoras’ engagement with Athens and Athenian culture was not a one-­sided phenomenon. Indeed, there is plentiful Athenian evidence for interaction with Evagoras in the late fifth century, and more so in the early fourth; and it shows that, in line with their broader late-­century strategy for negotiating with influential in­di­vid­uals and securing resources (note again Archelaos of Macedon),150 the Athenians awarded him significant honours. A fifth-­century Athenian decree records relations with Evagoras; despite its fragmentary state, it is clear that it is honorific in form.151 Evagoras is named as a ‘good man’ and a ‘benefactor’.152 The honours awarded, however, seem to have gone beyond those given to Archelaos. The survival of the verb ‘to enroll’ ([ἐ]σγράφσα[σθ]-|[αι]) is consistent with the language of citizen grants; Evagoras was likely being ‘enrolled’ in the civic subdivisions of the Athenian polis, a necessary part of citizenship.153 Isokrates implies that he had been awarded citizenship prior to his support of the Athenian general Konon in the 390s; it seems likely that this was the decree.154 The services performed by Evagoras for which he was rewarded by the Athenians seem to have been described in some detail in the document, but the poor state of preservation allows for little analysis. Intriguingly,

142 See IG I3 127 = OR 191 = AIO 796. 143  By 406 dynasts in the Egyptian delta were in revolt: see Ruzicka (2012) 36–8. 144  Körner (2020). 145  Isoc. 9. 146  Isoc. 9.64. 147  Kraay (1976) 308. 148  Isoc. 9.18. 149 Eur. Hel. 147–50. See Pouilloux (1986) 543; Zournatzi (1993). 150  See Chapter 4.2.3. 151  IG I3 113 = AIO 1970. The decree is inscribed in Attic letters, so a date before 403/2 bc is certain. 152  Lines 5 and 10. 153  Lines 8–9; see AIO commentary. 154  Isoc. 9.54.

196  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc however, the name of the satrap at Sardis, Tissaphernes, a big player in the final stages of the Peloponnesian War, is clear.155 Further, there are some potentially significant parallels between this ­document and the decree concerning Phaselis, discussed above.156 Legal agreements (symbola) are a topic of concern.157 In the following line, the polemarch, the official who presided over the court serving favoured foreigners, may have been mentioned.158 As in the decree for Phaselis, comparisons are made in multiple instances using the term καθάπερ;159 and the prominent allied community of Chios, which popped up as a reference point in the ­negotiation with Phaselis, makes an appearance here too.160 Is it possible that the negotiation with Evagoras, like that with Phaselis, included consideration for mobile ­individuals, even ­traders? Certainly, a few years later, the Athenians, in a comparable proxeny decree for Straton, King of Sidon, would award ­privileges to Sidonian citizens in Athens who were explicitly stated to be ­ concerned with trade.161 The material outcome of the Athenian relationship with Evagoras is clear from other sources. Andokides claims that he did not just secure oars from Macedon for the Athenians; he also ensured that grain ships from Cyprus (perhaps originating in Egypt) were sent to Athens.162 We know from Thucydides that, around the same time, the Athenians maintained an interest in protecting merchant ships coming from Egypt from the Peloponnesians.163 Later, Evagoras gave significant military aid to the Athenians, notably providing Konon with crucial support at the Battle of Knidos in 394/3 bc.164 Another inscribed decree survives, dating to the aftermath of the battle; again, it is frustratingly fragmentary, but clearly awards Evagoras a golden crown and priority seating at the theatre.165 This may have been the decree which granted the king the so-­called megistai timai or greatest honours (i.e. a statue in the agora), as recorded by Isokrates in his encomium.166 All in all, this relationship with Evagoras shows that the Athenians found a new way to access the eastern Mediterranean in the late fifth century: the cultivation of ties with an influential individual beyond the scope of the empire, negotiated within the parameters of honorific diplomacy. This strategy was applied more widely, as I have shown, but the honours granted to Evagoras were un­pre­ce­dent­ed in their scale. The Athenian tactic also exploited a geopolitical shift within Cyprus itself. 155  IG I3 113 = AIO 1970 line 39. 156  IG I3 10 = OR 120. 157  IG I3 113 = AIO 1970 line 23; compare IG I3 10 = OR 120 lines 12–13. 158  IG I3 113 = AIO 1970 line 24; compare IG I3 10 = OR 120 line 10. 159  IG I3 113 = AIO 1970 lines 40, 48; compare IG I3 10 = OR 120 line 10. 160  IG I3 113 = AIO 1970 line 47; compare IG I3 10 = OR 120 lines 10–11. 161  IG II2 141 = RO 21 = AIUK 11 no. 1 lines 32–3: κατ’ ἐμπορ-|ίαν. 162  Andoc. 2.20, 21. 163  Thuc. 8.35. 164 Xen. Hell. 4.3.10–12 for the battle; Isoc. 9.56. 165  IG II2 20 + Add. p. 656 = RO 11= AIUK 4.2 no. 7. 166  Isoc. 9.57.

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  197 But although their courting of Evagoras was part of a new strategy, this demonstration of adaptation and flexibility was certainly consistent with the Athenians’ approach with regards to the eastern Mediterranean region throughout the century. The Athenians adopted different strategies as the geopolitical context shifted, albeit with varying levels of success, from direct military intervention, to support of allied traders, to fiscal exploitation of allied communities, to the honouring of the Cypriot king. Given Achaemenid control after the Peace of Kallias, direct exploitation in the eastern Mediterranean was not an option for most of the century; but the demand for Athenian owls in Egypt and elsewhere in the Near East, alongside the availability of various desirable export commodities, created a unique opportunity for the Athenians to profit. The Athenians were not the only party to benefit from the flow of commodities, including owls, to and from the eastern Mediterranean; the Achaemenids certainly did. And despite the Athenians’ fiscal imposition, so did strategically located Greek communities. At least that is what is shown by the decrees with which I began this analysis.

5.2.7  The Rhodian Proxeny Decrees Again My discussion has travelled far from my starting point of Rhodes, taking in other allied communities, Cyprus, Achaemenid Egypt, and Athens itself along the way. But I think the broader picture I have painted goes a long way towards explaining the unusual formulation of the late fifth-­century Rhodian proxeny decrees; and, conversely, the decrees can help to illuminate the role allied communities such as Rhodes played at the interface of the Athenian Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean, and the complex dynamic of mutual, interregional gain. Rhodes had long benefited from its liminal position itself; but it was also precisely what made it so valuable to the Athenians. In the late fifth century, like the Athenians with Evagoras, the Rhodians used honorific diplomacy with influential individuals and its epigraphic commemoration to support their presence in the eastern Mediterranean. It was clearly important to them to maintain their long-­ standing Egyptian ties. However, they did not follow a strictly Athenian model in doing so, but rather utilized honorific epigraphic culture in their own idiosyncratic way. The simultaneous Athenian influence and Rhodian distinctiveness apparent in the decrees, then, encapsulates the Janus-­like orientation of the island, both its long-­standing and lucrative ties with Egypt, and its integration into the Athenian empire. Only a community at the cusp of both these influences could have produced such an epigraphic output. The instability in both zones in the late  fifth century may have provided the Rhodians’ motivation for their ­un­pre­ce­dent­ed epigraphic production, which was never to be repeated; indeed, the phrases ‘with inviolability and neutrality’ and ‘in peace and in war’ may have had real efficacy. The inscriptions, moreover, may have been paid for by wealth

198  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc derived from Rhodian participation in the very interregional mobility they sought to promote.167 Peter Liddel has connected this relative documentary productivity on the part of the Rhodians—­as well as that of other allied communities—­with the decline of Athenian power in the late fifth century, which he says allowed the Rhodians greater freedom in civic activity and in the inscribing of documents.168 He also suggests that the decrees could be part of an increased civic awareness in the years before the synoecism, whilst Kowalzig sees them as evidence of a ‘resurgence’ in the commercial networks of the Rhodian maritime elite.169 Elsewhere, certainly, the inscription of Athenian-­style proxeny decrees in the late fifth century was a straightforward act of anti-­Athenian resistance.170 However, we need not see this Rhodian epigraphic activity as only acting in competition with Athenian power. The Rhodian proxeny grants, this idiosyncratic Rhodian use of public epigraphy, were supporting the very economic relationships in the eastern networks which had made the Rhodians such lucrative and valuable allies for the Athenians (note again the Rhodian poleis’ high tribute assessment). This was undoubtedly an expression of agency, of self-­confidence on the part of the Rhodians, but one which was not necessarily detrimental to the Athenians. Exploitation in this part of Mediterranean, as I have emphasized, was not a zero-­sum game for the parties involved. The Rhodian poleis and non-­ Athenian individuals could profit alongside Athens and Athenians, and the Achaemenid authorities. Such an ambiguous overlap between Rhodian self-­assertion and emulation of Athens, compliance and resistance, is also visible in another context, which I explored in Chapter 3: the Rhodian creation of an Athenian-­style Dionysia festival in the early fourth century, which could be read either as a statement of affinity with Athenian culture or an act of competition.171 In the second part of this chapter, moreover, I will explore evidence for another complex interplay between Athenian power and Rhodian influence.

5.3  Rhodes and Athens in the Southern Aegean I now turn from consideration of interregional interaction through far-­flung commercial networks, to the local context of Rhodes in the southern Aegean, and the second kind of challenge faced by the Athenians I outlined in the 167  For wealth as a prerequisite for inscription, see Liddel (2010); for monumental building, see Osborne (1999a). 168  Liddel (2010) 111. 169  Kowalzig (2007) 252–3. 170 For example, IG 12 9 187 = OR 175 lines 8–10, an Eretrian decree which honours one Hegelochos of Taras explicitly for his aid against the Athenians. 171  See Chapter 3.3.2.

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  199 introduction. In this latter half of the chapter, I will focus more specifically on Rhodes and its environs, asking if the Rhodians wielded influence in the southern Aegean and, if so, how their regional power interacted with that of Athens. Given the paucity of contemporary literary testimony regarding Rhodes, I will turn to a rather difficult category of Athenian epigraphic evidence. In Chapter 2, in a discussion of special categories of tribute contributions in certain tribute quota lists in the 430s and 420s, known as rubrics, I observed that the communities contained in these categories coalesce around regional patterns.172 One of the patterns I identified was the appearance of island communities in the southern Aegean around Rhodes (see Maps 5 and 6). In 434/3 and 433/2 bc, the Eteokarpathians of Karpathos (a relatively large island to the south-­west of Rhodes) and the Kasioi of Kasos (a smaller island to the south-­west of Karpathos), as well as the Amorgioi of Amorgos (an island further away, on the edge of the Kyklades), appear under the heading πόλες αὐταὶ φόρον ταχσάμεναι (‘poleis which assessed themselves for tribute’). Moreover, in 434/3 the little island of Syme, tucked between two folds of the Anatolian coast on Rhodes’s western side, appears under πόλες ℎὰς ℎοι ἰδῖοται ἐνγραφσαν φόρον φέρεν (‘poleis which private individuals registered for tribute payment’).173 Finally, the Chalkeatai of Chalke, just off Kamiros on the western side of Rhodes, are found making extra payments known as epiphora in 432/1.174 Following John Ma and Christy Constantakopoulou, I noted a strategy of deliberate individual assessment of communities around Rhodes on the part of the Athenians.175 Small communities were assessed or assessed themselves separately from their larger neighbours for the first time. Additionally, other entries in the tribute quota lists also indicate that a strategy of separate assessment was being employed by the Athenians in the region at the end of the 430s and the beginning of the 420s.176 The small island of Saros to the north of Karpathos and the island of Telos to the north-­west of Rhodes make their first appearances in the lists in the first half of the 420s.177 On Rhodes, a group called the Brikindarioi possibly first appear in a list dated to the first half of the 420s (as I explained in Chapter  2, the lists in the first half of the 420s, which are inscribed on individual stelai, are very fragmentary and cannot be ordered or dated with any precision).178 They can be identified with a later deme in 172  See Chapter 2.2.2. 173  IG I3 278.6 line 14, 279.2 lines 81–2 (Eteokarpathians); 278.6 line 11, 279.2 line 83 (Kasioi); 278.6 line 10, 280.6 line 80 (Amorgioi); 278.6 line 28 (Syme). 174  IG I3 280.1 lines 54–5. 175  Ma (2009); Constantakopoulou (2013). See also Kowalzig (2007) 254, who argues that this strategy of segmentation would have particularly impacted the Rhodian sea-­bound aristocracy; Jensen (2010) 112–35. 176 Note that Constantakopoulou (2013) discusses the tribute payments of these sub-polis communities on Rhodes at some length. 177  IG I3 283.3 line 21 (Saros); 284 line 12 (Telos). 178  IG I3 282.4 line 13 (mostly restored).

200  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc the territory of Ialysos. Another group, the Diakrioi, are identified as ἐχς Ῥόδο, but their location is unknown. They first appear in another list dated to the first half of the 420s.179 The seeming artificiality of the descriptive designation Diakrioi perhaps indicates Athenian interference in the identification of the community (as John Ma has argued vis-­à-­vis the Eteokarpathians; see Section 5.3.4 below);180 but it also could be a local geographic designation.181 There is an undeniable pattern in the appearance of these communities in this particular geographical region for the first time in the same years. However, if we argue that, to borrow Ma’s term, ‘strategically fostered local segmentation’ was being employed by the Athenians, that they were intending to weaken Rhodes through the formation of individual bilateral relationships with small communities on the island and nearby, then we are assuming there was something to ­segment.182 Such an assumption needs to be explored further. What was the ­relationship between the three cities and other communities on the island? And did Rhodes hold some kind of power in the region? If so, what did it look like?

5.3.1  Further Variations in Assessment In attempting to answer these questions, there are further irregularities in the lists which we can take into account. First, two other sub-polis groups in Lindian territory, the Oiiatai and the Pedies, appear in earlier lists, from 454/3 bc and 448/7 bc onwards, respectively.183 The latter is a simple descriptive geographic designation, ‘the plains people’, so its name, like the Diakrioi, could indicate its status as an Athenian understanding of local groupings, although it is also possible that it was a local geographic identification. It appears after the synoecism as the name of a Lindian deme.184 Further, a group presumably on the Anatolian coast called the Chersonesioi appear in the lists for the first time in 452/1, with a substantial tribute contribution of 3 talents (see Map 5).185 It seems that the island of Syme, before its appearance in the idiotai rubric, may have been assessed for tribute with this group.186 The argument for the joint assessment of Syme and the Chersonesioi is based on the observation that they make complementary payments, and that Syme does not

179  IG I3 281.1 line 11 (partially but credibly restored). 180  Ma (2009). 181  Constantakopoulou (2013) 33. 182  Ma (2009) 135. 183  IG I3 259.3 line 26 (first appearance of Oiiatai); IG I3 264.2 line 12 (probable first appearance of Pedies, mostly restored). 184  See Constantakopoulou (2013) 32; Thonemann (2013) 33–6 for discussion of the use of the term ‘Pedieus’ in a later Prienean context as a ‘loose and non-­technical’ designation for a geographic area. 185  IG I3 261.4 line 9. 186  ATL 1 552–53 suggests that Syme and the Chersonesioi were assessed in a synteleia.

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  201 appear in the lists until the second half of the 430s.187 In 441/0 the Chersonesioi pay the unusual amount of two talents, 4200 drachmai.188 The lists for the first half of the 430s are very fragmentary, but Syme is visible in 434/3, paying 1800 drachmai.189 The sums of 2 talents, 4200 drachmai, and 1800 drachmai together equal the Chersonesioi’s original payment of three talents. However, the evidence of the lists after this time is perplexing. Their fragmentary state means that we cannot know with absolute confidence if the two communities are ever in the same list (apart from in the 425/4 reassessment decree).190 We certainly never have their contributions preserved simultaneously. What we do see is the Chersonesioi paying 3 talents again in 432/1.191 The evidence is therefore circumstantial and difficult, but it is possible that Syme was assessed with the Chersonesioi before its appearance in the idiotai rubric, although we cannot explain why the Chersonesioi returned to their original payment in 432/1. There is a further interesting variation in the history of the Chersonesioi’s assessment. In a list dated to the first half of the 420s (around the same time as the pattern of segmentation described in the previous section), the Chersonesioi are broken down into their constituent communities. This is explicitly shown by a new rubric: ℎαίδε τ͂ον πόλεον Χερρονεσίοις συντελ͂ες σαι ἀπέδοσαν (‘those poleis which paid in the Chersonesian synteleia’).192 One community never previously seen in the lists before, the Amioi, is visible on the stone beneath the heading.193 The name of another community is partially preserved.194 What is meant by the designation ‘Chersonesioi’? ‘Chersonesos’ is a common geographic term referring to a peninsula. There are two peninsulas on the Karian coast in the vicinity of Rhodes: the closer peninsula south-­west of modern-­day Marmaris, and the peninsula terminating in Knidos. Given that the Knidioi are assessed separately, and the Amioi, the community that appears in the rubric, can be confidently located on the closer peninsula, it seems that it is some part of this peninsula which is being referred to by the term ‘Chersonesioi’ in the list. The other community in the rubric (Λερ̣[․․․․]ι) can perhaps be identified with Loryma/Laryma (i.e. Ionian Lēryma), a place also on this peninsula which shows some vowel variation in its toponym.195 It seems that the term was used locally to denote a geographical or political grouping. In the late archaic period coins were minted with the inscription ΧΕΡ,196 while in Hellenistic Rhodian inscriptions an area was designated as the ‘Chersonasos’.197 Both earlier and later appearances of the term are linked with this peninsula. While it cannot be argued that the designation in the fifth-­century 187  See Figueira (1998) 289. 188  IG I3 271.1 line 79. 189  IG I3 278.6 line 28. 190  IG I3 71.1 line 137 (Chersonesioi); 71.2 line 148 (Syme). 191  IG I3 280.1 line 57. 192  IG I3 283.3 lines 31–2. 193  IG I3 283.3 line 33. 194  IG I3 283.3 line 34. 195  Suggested by ATL 1 512, but the editors consider the restoration ‘too questionable to be admitted to the text’. See also Fraser and Bean (1954) 60. 196  See Cahn (1970) for discussion of this coinage. 197  For example, SEG 41.661.

202  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc lists aligns exactly with these appearances of the term, it is likely that the term Chersonesioi had a local significance and referred to the closer of the two Karian peninsulas to Rhodes. Why was Syme possibly assessed with part of the mainland, and specifically with communities on this peninsula? The island lies between two folds of the Anatolian coast; why was it not taken on its own, or with the other peninsula terminating in Knidos? This grouping may be the result of impenetrable Athenian bureaucratic practice, of course, but more likely reflects a local conception of how the island and the peninsula related to each other, given that the tribute system relied on pre-­existing fiscal infrastructure. Possible underlying local realities might include a non-­hierarchical local grouping or Knidian influence on the peninsula.198 But it is also conceivable that these areas had been or continued to  be under the control of one or more of the Rhodian poleis, hence their ­association. Indeed, later and comparative evidence makes a Rhodian presence a distinct possibility.

5.3.2  Rhodian Regional Power in the Fifth Century? The later presence of Rhodian control in areas beyond the island certainly encourages one to look for earlier precedents. By the second century, Rhodes had integrated some of the surrounding islands and the mainland (Fraser and Bean’s ‘integrated peraia’) including Syme and the Chersonesos into its state, which was organized by tribes and demes.199 At times, more territory on the mainland was under its control, but not integrated into its internal political structure (the ‘subject peraia’). We might also theorize Rhodian control over nearby islands in the fifth c­ entury on the basis of comparison with other similarly sized and situated islands in the Aegean. Constantakopoulou notes that it is usual for larger islands to control their smaller neighbours, a phenomenon she charmingly terms ‘mini island ­networks’.200 For instance, Chios already had control over smaller islands nearby in the second half of the sixth century.201 Likewise, many similar islands had a mainland presence in the fifth century. In the case of Thasos, as we have seen, and Lesbian Mytilene, Thucydides explicitly describes the islands’ mainland possessions at the moment of their detachment by the Athenians.202 It is notable that the rubric indicating the breakdown of the Chersonesioi into individual communities 198  Cook (1961) argues for Knidian control of the peninsula. 199  Fraser and Bean (1954). 200  Constantakopoulou (2007) 176. 201  Hdt. 1.165; Constantakopoulou (2007) 178. 202  Thuc. 1.101.3 (Thasos); 3.5.3 (Mytilene on Lesbos). See Ellis-­Evans (2019) chapter 4 for discussion of the Mytilenean peraia in the fifth century and the more general phenomenon of islands having mainland possessions.

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  203 in the first half of the 420s has no exact comparanda, despite the presence of many synteleiai in the lists; but the closest is the appearance of a new geographic panel in the 425/4 reassessment decree (which could be very close in date to the list under consideration), the Ἀκτα̣[ῖαι πόλες] (‘coastal [poleis]’).203 As Aneurin Ellis-­ Evans argues, this panel may refer to Mytilene’s detached mainland possessions.204 If the Chersonesioi rubric does similarly indicate the separate assessment of a group of communities understood through their (perhaps former) relationship to Rhodes, however, this breakdown was temporary, as the Chersonesioi are found together once again in 425/4.205 Moreover, the geographical realities of the region make connections between Rhodes—­particularly the cities on the west coast of the island, Ialysos and Kamiros—­and at least the nearest islands and the Karian peninsula inevitable.206 The west coast of Rhodes is always visible from parts of the mainland, and from the south-­east sides of Syme and Chalke, and vice versa. As Horden and Purcell explain, ‘mutual visibility’ in the Mediterranean determines interactions, with communications following lines of sight.207 Following this logic, Kamiros was in some ways better connected with Chalke, Syme, and the Karian peninsula than with Lindos on the other side of the island, separated by the mountainous in­ter­ ior, which hindered communications by land. Likewise, the Karian peninsula is rocky and inaccessible; its coastal settlements would have been better connected to one another and to the west coast of Rhodes than to other places or powers on the mainland. There would have been incentives for the Rhodian poleis to wield influence beyond the island itself. The nearby islands would have been useful stops for Rhodian ships. Syme and Chalke both had good natural harbours, which may have also been important for Rhodes from a defensive perspective.208 Thucydides’ narrative of the Ionian War shows how these islands were exploited by both the Athenians and the Peloponnesians due to their proximity to Rhodes. A sea battle was fought off Syme,209 and once the Peloponnesians encouraged Rhodes to defect, the Athenians made Chalke their base of operations in the region (clearly by this time any theoretical Rhodian control of the island had ceased).210 Even before the Peloponnesian War, the Rhodians would have had defensive concerns due to competition with other local powers such the local Achaemenid au­thor­ ities, Karian dynasts, or other Greek poleis. Further, even though the closest islands and peninsula have mostly rocky and difficult terrain, they would have

203  IG I3 71.3 line 124. 204  Thuc. 3.5.3. See also Thucydides’ use of the term ‘Aktaian cities’ when describing events in 424 (Thuc. 4.54.3) with Ellis-­Evans (2019) 159–69. 205  IG I3 71.1 line 137. 206  For the regional integration of Rhodes and Karia, see Unwin (2017), for example at 10–11. 207  Horden and Purcell (2000) 126. 208  See Constantakopoulou (2007) 194. 209  Thuc. 8.42. 210  Thuc. 8.55.

204  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc had some resources to exploit.211 Presumably, taxes of various kinds were collected, particularly those on maritime mobility, including traffic through the straits between Loryma and Rhodes (this is certainly implied by the very presence of the small communities in the tribute quota lists). There are reasons, then, to look for evidence for Rhodian influence, at least in its immediate environs. The question follows what any influence may have looked like. Scholars, influenced by the later evidence, often assume that some of the vicinity of Rhodes was integrated into the civic structure of one of the poleis before the synoecism. Fraser and Bean, for example, argue that the Chersonesos as well as the islands of Syme, Karpathos, and Chalke were formally integrated into the civic subdivisions of one of the three cities.212 Their argument rests on the attestation in later inscriptions of uniquely Rhodian territorial divisions called ktoinai in these locations or referring to these locations.213 The function of the ktoina is not clear, but it seems to be distinct and unconnected to the primary civic subdivision of the synoecized polis, the deme. It is assumed that the ktoinai were created before the synoecism but continued to serve some function after it, thus showing pre-­synoecism integration into one of the three poleis.214 Even if we follow Fraser and Bean’s explanation of ktoinai, the evidence is not entirely convincing for the presence of ktoinai in all the areas they argue.215 What is more, while the ktoina does seem to have been a unit of civic organization sep­ar­ate to the deme, it does not necessarily follow that the ktoina was thereby older than the deme. Due to the paucity of the evidence, the exact function and origin of the ktoina must remain unexplained.216 But we need not see any Rhodian control as just formalized integration into the civic subdivisions of one of the Rhodian poleis. There would have been other kinds of exploitation, other ways for the Rhodian poleis (probably Ialysos or Kamiros on the west coast) to benefit and profit from these areas, perhaps through extraction of resources or taxation; and this is precisely what the lists imply, if we take the pattern of separate assessment as meaningful. Indeed, as I laid out in Chapter 2, tribute assessment entailed, first, individualized consideration of local resources and fiscal structures by the Athenians; and, secondly, communication, even negotiation, between the Athenians and allied representatives. When the Athenians assessed smaller communities with the Rhodian poleis, then, they acknowledged a degree of Rhodian control over the fiscal and political autonomy

211  See Constantakopoulou (2007) 246. 212  Fraser and Bean (1954). 213  For a further discussion of the function of the ktoinai, see Jones (1987) 244. 214  Fraser and Bean (1954) 95. 215  The inscription (Tit.Cam. 109) used by Fraser and Bean (1954) 145 to argue for Chalke’s integration into a ktoina in actuality appears to differentiate Chalke from other ktoinai. 216  Badoud (2011) also argues against Fraser and Bean’s use of the ktoina in this way, contending that the peraia was not integrated at all until the end of the fourth century.

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  205 of these communities. The Rhodians must have had some kind of input in these communities’ fiscal infrastructure, at the very least. What exactly this control looked like may have varied, and given the state of the evidence we perhaps cannot be more specific. Moreover, the different communities (we should differentiate between those on Rhodes itself and those on different islands) that appear in the lists may have borne different relationships to Rhodes over time, or indeed to other local players such as Karpathos or Knidos. All in all, the pattern of segmentation may have concealed a variety of different local circumstances. Such varied exploitation in the fifth century could have provided the precedent for the synoecized state’s quick expansion in later years. The implications of the Athenians’ combined assessment should be emphasized: by assessing smaller communities with Rhodes, they were acknowledging and accepting the local reality of Rhodian power. Moreover, the case of Syme and the Chersonesioi indicates that separate assessment might not even have entirely negated Athenian acknowledgement of Rhodian influence. Athenian fiscal strategy was dictated by profit; and if the Rhodians were compliant, then Athenian toleration of their local prominence made sense. We should not view the inter­action between Rhodes and Athens in the region, then, as a binary relationship, a question of either/or, but as an interface between overlapping, intersecting powers.

5.3.3  The Significance of Separate Assessment If combined assessment was meaningful, it follows that subsequent separate assessment would also have had consequences; what, then, did it mean for the interplay between Rhodian and Athenian power? The Athenian assessment of small communities independently from the Rhodian poleis may have meant there was local fiscal infrastructure in place already, but such infrastructure may also have been further developed to meet Athenian demands.217 The Athenians, after all, were demanding payment in silver, not in other commodities; all communities in the lists consequently had to have means of collecting coined money, not just taxes in kind.218 Representatives from these communities would then have communicated with the Athenians separately from the Rhodian poleis vis-­à-­vis their assessment. While the separate tribute assessment would not have necessarily cut through all local ties and realities of territorial organization, it would have acknowledged—­and perhaps encouraged the development of—­fiscal and political organization at the local level. This dynamic may have served the Athenians well,

217  Here I follow Constantakopoulou (2013) 31, who argues that tribute resulted in small communities being ‘integrated for the first time to the larger Aegean networks of economic, political and cultural transactions’. 218  Constantakopoulou (2013) 39.

206  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc as it allowed them to bypass the authority of the Rhodian poleis in various ways, while local elites and their communities could assert agency independently of their more powerful neighbours. It is notable in this connection that a copy of the ‘Standards decree’ was displayed at Syme; either the Athenians acknowledged its status as an independent community and sent the document to be inscribed, or authorities friendly to the Athenians chose to inscribe it.219 There may have been a longer-­term impact for these communities as a result of their separate assessment by the Athenians. The Rhodian poleis, I have argued, would have already controlled dependent communities on the island itself and possibly also beyond it, although this control did not necessarily look like that of the later synoecized Rhodian state and its extra-­island territories. Conversely, Athenian power may have shaped Rhodes’s later territorial organization. Eric Driscoll has shown that certain communities in Milesian territory which were assessed separately in the lists can later be identified as Milesian demes; he suggests that the demands imposed by the Athenians triggered these communities to develop fiscal infrastructure, which ‘accelerated their constitutional development’.220 The same could be argued for some of the communities assessed separately from the three poleis on Rhodes itself, two of which are later attested as demes, as well as the extra-­island communities such as Syme and Chalke which became part of the so-­called ‘integrated peraia’. The development forced by their separate assessment by the Athenians, although perhaps in opposition to the Rhodian poleis at the time, may have been used by the synoecized Rhodian state in subsequent years when establishing its deme organization. We should not underestimate the importance of individuals and their relationships in determining these changing assessments. Syme, after all, first appears in the idiotai rubric; individual citizens, likely elites, volunteered the island for assessment. Rhodes is a community where we have good evidence for the influence of elite individuals on the political landscape, sometimes in opposition to Athens.221 Thucydides’ account of the island’s revolt emphasizes the role of ‘leading men’ with relationships to the Peloponnesians,222 while Diodorus stresses the role of the Diagorid family in particular.223 The Rhodians’ use of proxeny decrees shows their cultivation of ties with prominent individuals; and, as I have argued elsewhere, a particular regional culture of honorific inscription became visible shortly after, with a series of similar decrees inscribed at nearby Iasos, some of them honouring Knidian individuals.224 Conversely, in addition to the idiotai of Syme, there is evidence for the Athenians attempting to forge their own ties with individuals in the region 219  Unfortunately, the Syme fragments of the ‘Standards decree’ (IG I3 1453 = OR 155) have now been lost; fragments were also found at Smyrna, Kos, Hamaxitos in the Troad, Olbia, Siphnos, and Aphytis, for which see Hatzopoulos (2016). See Chapter 2.4; Chapter 6.2.4. 220  Driscoll (2018) 152. 221  Again, see Kowalzig (2007) chapter 5. 222  Thuc. 8.44.1. 223  Diod. Sic. 13.38.5. 224  See Lazar (Forthcoming a).

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  207 through proxeny. A fourth-­century decree shows the renewal of a grant of proxenia for an honorand from Ialysos.225 The honorand’s father had been made an Athenian proxenos, but the stone had been broken up by the Thirty tyrants, a clear example of how state-­level interactions were determined by underlying individual relationships, and thus potentially unstable. Additionally, a fragmentary decree records a grant possibly made to an individual from Kamiros, while a certain Proxenos, made an Athenian proxenos in a fragmentary decree, may have come from Chalke, although neither of these reconstructions can be considered certain.226 Woodhead, noting other grants such as that to Proxenides of Knidos, goes so far as to detect a definite policy on the part of the Athenians in the Ionian War, whereby they attempted to strengthen relationships with communities in the region through proxeny grants.227 Given the importance of individuals and individual relations in community-­ level negotiations, the separate assessment of particular communities in the lists may, then, have been influenced by the shifting ties between the Athenians and different allied representatives. If relations with some Rhodian elites were souring in advance of the revolt and synoecism, then the Athenians may have sought to negotiate with elites from neighbouring communities more friendly to their interests. The Athenians wanted more negotiation, not less. Moreover, Lindian discontent is in fact attested vis-­à-­vis their tribute assessment: from the fragments of a speech by Antiphon, we know that at some time in the final decades of the fifth century, the Lindians attempted to contest it.228 All in all, separate assessment may have been meaningful for both the communities in question and their individual citizens.

5.3.4  The Eteokarpathians Again Before I conclude, I would like to return to the Athenian decree for the Eteokarpathians, an extract from which opened this chapter. The decree provides further evidence for the particular dynamics of separate assessment in the region, the different forms of Rhodian regional influence, and the importance of in­di­vid­uals in these interactions. As I discussed in Chapter  2, John Ma provides a thorough analysis of the decree and the events underlying it.229 He argues that the Eteokarpathians were a new community constructed by the Athenians to foster local segmentation on the 225  Agora XVI 37 1, Walbank (1978) no. 72. Robert and Robert (1949) no. 41, 104–5 argue that the use of the ethnic Ialysios must refer back to the earlier, pre-­synoecism grant of proxenia to the father. 226  IG I3 177, Walbank (1978) no. 63; IG I3 181, Woodhead (1948), Walbank (1978) no. 52 suggests that the honorand was from Knidos. 227  IG I3 91; Woodhead (1948). 228  Antiph. fr. 25–33 (Thalheim). 229  Ma (2009); see also Anderson and Dix (2004).

208  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc island of Karpathos, which, like Rhodes, had been populated by three poleis (see Map 6). The decree records the gift of a cypress tree by the Eteokarpathians to the Athenians.230 In return, the Athenians awarded honours to a specific Eteokarpathian individual, his sons, and the new community as a whole.231 All are named Athenian benefactors, and the community is made autonomous.232 According to Ma, this status of autonomy explains the Eteokarpathians’ appearance in the autai rubric in the lists. The prominence of the individual Eteokarpathian in the negotiation should be noted; we might speculate that he also played a role in his community’s subsequent tribute assessment. We can thus see in the decree a  dynamic specific to the island; but simultaneously the appearance in the lists around the same time of Kasos and Saros is likely part of a local dynamic. Moreover, the separate assessment on and around Karpathos, as we have just seen, coincides with a similar Athenian strategy on Rhodes and its immediate environs. Indeed, the broader regional dynamic is clear in the degree itself, as the Rhodians make an appearance: If the Eteokarpathians need anything else, the Koans and the [Kni]dians and the Rhodians and those of [the allies] who are able in this area shall [assist] (?) as far as they can. These things shall be written on a stone stele on the acropolis, and at Karpathos in the sanctuary of Apollo, from which the cypress was cut. [Hagesa or Deina?]rchos the Lindian shall [deliver?] for the Athenians (?) the cypress.233

The Athenians require Kos, (probably) Knidos, and Rhodes (note the identification of the island as a whole, not of the individual poleis) to help the new community they have created. This is a top-­down injunction, but it acknowledges the regional influence of these communities. The Eteokarpathians do not seem to be under the direct control of Rhodes (or indeed of Kos or Knidos) in the decree; we should imagine some kind of softer influence exerted by a larger party over a smaller neighbour. It is perhaps significant that the Athenians acknowledge all three regional powers, encouraging their overlapping, competing influences; were they attempting to combat any one of them achieving prominence? A Lindian individual also played a role in the interaction between the Eteokarpathians and the Athenians, alongside the honorand from Karpathos itself. Given the fragmentary nature of the document, it is hard to know exactly 230  IG I3 1454 = OR 136 = AIO 954 lines 8–9. 231  Lines 5–7. 232  Lines 7–8, 12. 233  Lines 28–41: [ἐὰ]ν̣ δὲ Ἐτεοκα-|ρπάθιοι ἄλλο τ]ι δέωνται, Κω-|[ίος καὶ Κνι]δίος καὶ Ῥοδίος | [καὶ ξυμμάχ]ων οἵτινες ἂν δ[υ]-|[νατοὶ ὦσιν] περὶ ταῦτα τὰ χ[ω]-|ρία ὠφελ͂ε ?]ν ὅ τι ἂν δύνωνται. | [γράψαι δὲ τ]αῦτα ἐν στήληι [λ]-|[ιθίνηι ἐμ] π̣όληι καὶ ἐγ Καρ[π]-|[άθωι ἐν τῶι] ἱερῶι τ͂ο Ἀπόλλ[ω]-|[νος ὅθεν] ἐ̣τμήθη ἡ κυπάρι[ττ]-|[ος· Ἁγήσα- or Δείνα?]ρ̣χ̣ον δὲ τὸ̣ν Λίνδ[ιο]-|[ν . . . 7 . . .]τησ[. .] Ἀθηναίο[. . | . . . . 7…]ναι τὴγ κυπάριτ[το]-|[ν].

Athens, Rhodes, and the Eastern Mediterranean  209 what this role was. The individual appears after the publication formula in the instructions for the cutting of the cypress, so we might speculate that he was involved in the transportation of the tree. We have seen in the first half of this chapter how the Rhodians, and the Lindians in particular, were prominent in commercial activity; we can assume that their reputation in this sphere was known to the Athenians and the Eteokarpathians. It is further notable that a particular Lindian individual was named by the Athenian authorities. In sum, Rhodian influence on Karpathos (or at least over the Eteokarpathians, for whom we have this more direct evidence) was likely informal, and different to the control exerted by the Rhodian poleis closer to home; the Karpathian poleis wielded their own influence in their immediate environs. Even as the Athenians were communicating with smaller communities separately to both the Rhodian and the Karpathian poleis, however, they still acknowledged the status of Rhodes and its potential influence on Karpathos. Moreover, this record of relations between Karpathos, Athens, and Rhodes explicitly attests to the importance of prominent individuals in these complex and overlapping dynamics. Overall, the pattern of separate assessment in the lists cannot be seen as a response to a uniform set of power relationships. We cannot reconstruct the exact circumstances by which every new community appeared in the lists, but we can detect a scale of control or influence by different parties, concentrated on different local levels, nesting and overlapping.

5.4 Conclusion In this chapter, through consideration of the island of Rhodes, its influence in the Aegean, and its connections beyond it, I hope to have shown how the interplay of Athenian power and regional allied influence was variable and complex. In the tribute quota lists, the pattern of individual assessment in the southern Aegean indicates that, until the 430s and 420s bc, the Athenians were willing to recognize local power dynamics and conceptual categorizations of how places related to each other in their assessment. There was a local reality of overlapping and intersecting influences, and a changing interface of Athenian authority and allied agency, which the Athenians largely accepted. Moreover, after unsuccessfully attempting direct intervention in the eastern Mediterranean, the Athenians, I argue, attempted to profit from these networks by facilitating allied mobility and skimming off surplus from allied communities, including Rhodes, rather than integrating themselves. Although this extra-­ Aegean network had pre-­existed their Aegean power, its operation was impacted by Athens’s rise, by the increased demand for goods at the Piraeus, and the enormous influx of Athenian coinage. Athenian exploitation then formed a symbiotic relationship with allied advantage and Achaemenid fiscality. While a parallel

210  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc strategy is clearly in evidence in Thrace, Athenian interaction with the eastern Mediterranean took on a particular regional form. In the case of Rhodes, Athenian acknowledgement of the island’s influence in the southern Aegean was perhaps a means of maintaining their mutually beneficial arrangement vis-­ à-­ vis the eastern Mediterranean; the Athenian approach to Rhodes was in every way laissez-­faire and resource-­light. But circumstances clearly changed in the final decades of the century. First, the Athenians began to communicate more directly with smaller communities on the island and in Rhodes’s orbit, even if this communication and related acknowledgement or development of local fiscal infrastructure did not entirely cut through local power dynamics. And then, after the Rhodians’ revolt, the Athenians had to find other ways to interact with the eastern Mediterranean, once again employing a supra-­regional strategy in a particular regional form, in their honouring of Evagoras. All in all, the Athenians’ interaction with Rhodes was flexible, at different times consisting of alignment, toleration, and opposition. The impact of Athenian power on Rhodes was similarly multivalent. Despite the paucity of the fifth-­century literary record, the island gives us multiple examples of localized reception of Athenian political, economic, honorific, cultural, and religious power in the late fifth and early fourth centuries. Adapting the model of Athenian epigraphic culture for their own purpose, the Rhodians used monumental inscriptions to maintain ties with the eastern Mediterranean; but these ties also supported indirect Athenian exploitation. The Athenians’ separate assessment of dependent communities in Rhodes’s environs, initially an act in opposition to Rhodes, may have shaped the territory of the later synoecized state. The new city of Rhodes also instituted a Dionysia similar in form to the Athenian theatrical festival, which set itself up in direct competition with its model. In all these examples, the divide between emulation and competition is difficult to locate. Although we cannot always track it, moreover, the shifting relationship between Rhodes and Athens, and the resulting Rhodian reception of Athens, was likely determined in part by the shifting relationships of prom­in­ent individuals. In my final chapter, I will turn to a different region at the interface of the Aegean and an extra-­Aegean network; and I will observe another localized manifestation of the complex interplay between Athenian power, allied agency, and Achaemenid competition.

6

Athens, Daskyleion, and Kyzikos Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea

“Where is the last one?” “She is Kyzikos, full of staters.”1

Eupolis, Poleis

6.1 Introduction On 17 July 2016, an attempted coup by members of the Turkish military briefly closed the Bosporos to shipping traffic. The coup failed, but the international economic impact was still huge. The Bosporos strait, despite being less than a kilometre wide at its narrowest point, is a crucial shipping route. At the time, a quarter of the world’s grain, not to mention 3 per cent of the global supply of oil, was shipped from Black Sea ports through the Bosporos, Sea of Marmara, and Dardanelles, and then into the Aegean.2 In theory, free shipping through the strait was guaranteed, but Ankara retained the right to close it for security reasons. A narrow waterway, the transit of lucrative resources, the competing interests of powerful players. This summation could be applied to the day in 2016 I have just described. But it works equally well as a description of the region in the fifth century bc. In antiquity, as today, there was extensive mobility between the Aegean and Black Sea, linked by the Hellespontine and Bosporan straits, and the Propontic sea. This chokepoint created problems for ships but also opportunities for those who wished to profit. The Athenians, unsurprisingly, established a presence at the straits, but had to contend with other parties in this fragmented and  competitive landscape, not least the Achaemenid Persian satrap based at Daskyleion. In this final chapter, I will analyse Athenian fiscal and commercial strategies at the Bosporos and Asiatic Propontis from two perspectives: first through consideration of one allied community, Kyzikos, its unique electrum coinage (the staters mentioned by the comic playwright Eupolis), and the peripheral position it 1  Fr. 247: ἡ δ᾽ὑστάτη ποῦ ᾽σθ’; ἥδε Κύζικος πλέα στατήρων. 2  https://uk.reuters.com/article/turkey-­security-­commodities/factbox-­turkeys-­huge-­and-­rising-­ role-­in-­world-­trade-­of-­oil-­gas-­grains-­idUKL8N1A215Q (accessed 27 February 2019).

Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc. Leah Lazar, Oxford University Press. © Leah Lazar 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198896265.003.0007

212  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc occupied between Athenian and Achaemenid influences; and second through discussion of Athenian taxation at the straits, the one known location where the Athenians themselves imposed a tax on mobility beyond Attica. I will build on the conclusion of the previous chapters that the Athenians were largely laissez-­ faire in their approach to extraction but were adaptive to local circumstances when the opportunity for more direct intervention arose.

6.1.1  From the Hellespont to the Bosporos: Mobility and Exploitation First, some geographic and historical context. The geographic conditions of the Bosporos, the Propontis (the modern-­day Sea of Marmara) and the Hellespont (now known as the Dardanelles; see Figure 6.1) are unique in the context of the Mediterranean (see Map 7). These waterways connect the Black Sea to the Aegean. The Hellespont and the Bosporos are very narrow, the former 1.2 kilo­ metres wide at its narrowest point and the latter a mere 700 metres. In antiquity, the exact divisions between the Bosporos, Propontis, and Hellespont were loosely defined; toponyms were used by authors in different ways to refer to different places, and in the tribute quota lists the entire area is labelled as Hellespontine.3 The straits themselves provided the opportunity for the exploitation of natural resources. There was marble, most notably on the island of Prokonnesos (now Marmara) where the ancient quarries have been excavated.4 There was land suitable for the cultivation of grain, such as the fertile hinterland of Byzantion.5 By sea there was the opportunity for fishing, reflected in the ubiquitous tuna fish of the Kyzikene electrum coinage (more on this shortly). There were also metal resources in Mysia and the Troad, although the landscape of ancient mining in the region is still poorly understood.6 The region also boasted significant timber. Theophrastos lists Mount Ida (in the Troad, just beyond the geographic scope of this chapter) and Mysian Mount Olympos as two areas with high-­quality timber for ship building.7 The first-­ century ad orator Dio Chrysostom, a native of Prusa, in direct proximity to Mount Olympos, describes his city’s primary resource, and its co-­dependency with the nearby port of Apameia, when trying to quell a quarrel between the two communities (see Map 7):

3  Avram (2004) 974. 4  Mitchell (1985) 74. 5  Polyb. 4.45. 6  As explained to me by Francis Albarède. For mines in north-­western Anatolia, and competition over their exploitation between the Athenians and Achaemenids, see Bresson (2020) 214. 7 Theophr. Hist.pl. 4.5.5. Xen. Hell. 1.1.23–6 describes how the Achaemenid satrap Pharnabazos helped the Peloponnesians to rebuild their fleet after their loss at Kyzikos in 410 at Antandros in the Troad, with timber from Mount Ida.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  213

Figure 6.1  View of the mouth of the Hellespont from the site of Sigeion. Photograph by Charles Crowther, Centre for the Study of Ancient Documents, Oxford. For they (the Apameians) need our timber, and many other things in addition, while we have no other harbour for import and for the export of our own resources.8

This dynamic of co-­dependency between inland community and port endures to the present day, as Apameia (now Mudanya) still serves as Prusa’s (now Bursa’s) access to the coast, and its quickest connection with Istanbul. It was also a common dynamic in the region in antiquity, as will become apparent. Despite these not insubstantial local resources, the straits perhaps derived their greatest strategic significance from their position at the interface of other regions, the Black Sea and the Aegean. From the archaic period onwards, the Black Sea provided many commercial opportunities for Aegean communities, including the buying and selling of various resources.9 This mobility was facilitated by Greek settlements on the Black Sea, as far north as modern-­day Ukraine and Russia, and in particular on the Crimean peninsula. For the many ships moving between the Aegean and the Black Sea, the journey through the straits was difficult to navigate, in particular at the narrow Bosporos

8  Dio Chrys. 40.30. For the significance of the mountain’s timber resources, see Meiggs (1982) 357, and an especially evocative description by Robert (1980) 82. 9  This has been much discussed elsewhere: see, for instance, the 2007 volume edited by Gabrielsen and Lund.

214  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc with its perilous currents and winds.10 Indeed, Polybius, writing in the second century bc, provides an evocative description of the dangers of the Bosporos.11 The particular geographical conditions imposed particular demands on communities situated on the straits, but also provided opportunities. It was necessary for the many ships passing through to make landfall in harbours where taxes could be collected, and resources bought or sold. Taxation on mobility (consisting of import or export charges on goods, or taxes on the transit of the ships themselves) was the most widespread form of taxation in the Greek world in general.12 Emily Mackil puts this down to ‘the extreme political fragmentation of the Mediterranean and its extreme ecological fragmentation’.13 Nowhere was this truer than in the straits, where the landscape was not only fragmented politically and geographically, but this fragmentation was highly compressed. Numerous Greek communities participated in this competitive landscape. There was a particular concentration of cities in the west of the straits, around the Hellespont (see Figure  6.1). This part of the region (specifically the Thracian Chersonesos, now the Gallipoli peninsula, on the European side and the settlement of Sigeion across the Hellespont) was, according to Herodotus, a key focus of Athenian overseas colonizing activity in the second half of the sixth century, and is identified by J. K. Davies as one of the late archaic Athenian ‘corridors of outreach’.14 Even in the sixth century, the exact composition of these settlements, whether colonies or cleruchies, and their relationship with Athens (they are described as enterprises led by aristocratic individuals) are not clear. Their status in the fifth century is even more obscure. Hardly any contemporary fifth-­century evidence—­at least to my knowledge—­attests to particular links with Athens or the maintenance of an Athenian identity during the time of fifth-­ century Athenian power.15 I am inclined not to see an Athenian presence on the Chersonesos or at Sigeion in the fifth century beyond the incorporation of communities into the empire, and will proceed in my analysis with this understanding. If there was fifth-­century colonial or cleruchic activity, it has not impacted

10  See Russell (2017) chapter 1 for the difficult conditions in the Bosporos. 11  Polyb. 4.44. 12  Mackil (2015) 478–9 gives examples from the classical Greek world of both kinds of taxes on mobility. 13  Mackil (2015) 486; see also Purcell (2005). 14  Davies (2013). Herodotus describes how prominent Athenian elite individuals led ventures to this region: Miltiades the Elder and Miltiades the Younger to the fertile Chersonesos, the most prom­ in­ent settlement of which was Sestos (6.34–41), and the Peisistratids to Sigeion in a highly strategic location in the Troad opposite (Hdt. 5.65, 91, 94–5). See Graham (1964) 192–7, Isaac (1986) 159–97 for further discussion; Van Alfen (2021) for a reassessment of the archaic coinage of the Chersonesos and the role of the Philiads. See also SEG 62.40, the monument of Phanodikos found at Sigeion, dating to c.550 bc, with Ionic and Attic dialect inscriptions, suggesting Athenian influence. 15 Plut. Per. 19 states that Perikles sent settlers to the Chersonesos; for discussion of the unreliability of Plutarch’s descriptions of Periklean colonizing activity, see below (section 6.2.1). Unfortunately, minimal excavations have been conducted on the Gallipoli peninsula (part of it is still a Turkish military zone, with WW1 memorials), so archaeological data is lacking: see Loukopoulou (2004) 902.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  215 on  our surviving contemporary sources.16 The Greek communities on the Chersonesos had distinct identities, as implied through their entries in the tribute quota lists;17 the area would also have been contested by Thracian groups, including the Odrysian kingdom.18 Moving to the Propontis, the modern-­day Sea of Marmara, there were Greek communities on both the European and Asian shores. One of the most significant was Kyzikos on the Asian side (by modern-­day Bandırma), which will be my focus in much of this chapter. There were more communities clustered around the Bosporos, the largest being Byzantion on the European side (the heart of  modern-­day Istanbul) and Kalchedon on the Asian (the modern suburb of Kadiköy). The position of Byzantion was much more favourable than that of Kalchedon, due to the currents in the strait. Herodotus was aware of this disparity, perhaps having spoken to Byzantine sources, and he memorably puts the observation in the mouth of the Persian Megabazos: This Megabazos once made a statement that will be remembered forever by the inhabitants of the Hellespont. Once when he was in Byzantion, he learned the Kalchedonians had settled their colony seventeen years earlier than the people of Byzantion had established theirs. Upon hearing this, he remarked that the Kalchedonians must have been blind at that time, for they would not have ­chosen such an inferior location when there was such a superior one available, unless they were blind.19

Megabazos brings us to consideration of the one of the most important players at the straits in the late archaic and classical periods: Achaemenid Persia. The satrap of Hellespontine Phrygia was based at Daskyleion, only 30 kilometres inland from Kyzikos and the Propontis. His area of responsibility would have stretched from the Troad to the Black Sea, and a significant way inland.20 The Athenians, in taking an interest in the straits, would necessarily have come into contact with

16  Martin Lopez Howe reminded me of an exception, an intriguing entry in the Hellespontine panel of the tribute quota list of 440/39 bc (IG I3 272.1 line 29), which lists Νεάπολις ἀπ’ Ἀθεν͂ον (“Neapolis from the Athenians”), a possible remnant of earlier settlement activity; fifth-­century col­ onies and cleruchies did not contribute tribute. 17 Unlike the fifth-­ century Athenian settlement of Amphipolis, the communities of the Chersonesos appear in the tribute quota lists. A synteleia of the Cherronesitai appears in early lists, for example, IG I3 260.10 line 6 (453/2 bc), which is sometimes taken as an indication of the Athenian presence, but after 447/6 bc the communities of the Limnaioi, Madytioi, Elaiousioi, Sestioi, Alopekonnesioi, and the Cherronesitai ap’ Agoras are listed separately. Sigeion is also present in the lists and presented like other allied communities in the fragmentary Athenian decree concerning the polis (IG I3 17); the decree has been dated convincingly by Papazarkadas (2014) to 407/6 bc. 18  See, for instance, Thuc. 2.96, which provides a description of the Thracian groups under the control of Sitalkes in the area. 19  Hdt. 4.144. 20  Dusinberre (2013) 57.

216  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Daskyleion. The exact nature of this interaction, however, is difficult to reconstruct, at least on the basis of the literary sources.

6.1.2  The Straits in the Fifth Century Writing a sustained narrative history of the straits in the fifth century is an impos­ sible task. The literary sources only provide detailed evidence for activity at the straits in the aftermath of the Graeco-­Persian Wars and at the end of the fifth century, when the primary theatre of the Peloponnesian War shifted to the east Aegean. Some details regarding the years in between can be gleaned from literary and epigraphic sources, but notable gaps remain. In particular, the role of the satrap is obscure, largely due to Thucydides’ general lack of interest in Persia before his eighth book.21 As outlined above, Athenian interests at the Hellespont were already apparent in the sixth century. According to Thucydides, the Athenians turned their attention to the region again immediately after their takeover of the Greek alliance against the Persians. We hear of the Spartan king Pausanias’ capture of Byzantion in 478;22 after his dismissal from the leadership of the alliance, he returned in a  private capacity, before being expelled by the Athenians and their allies.23 In the  years immediately after the Graeco-­Persian Wars, Thucydides also implies Achaemenid involvement at the straits: he reports that King Artaxerxes was able to gift Lampsakos on the Hellespont to the exiled Athenian Themistokles.24 Byzantion surfaces again in Thucydides’ Pentekontaetia; he reports how it revolted at the same time as Samos in 440, before being brought to heel once more by the Athenians.25 Notably, it is one of the few allied communities to be mentioned multiple times in this part of Thucydides’ narrative. The tribute quota lists also provide some details of the Athenian presence in the straits in the middle decades of the century. Many Greek communities in the region made tribute contributions from an early stage.26 Moreover, the lists show us that there was significant Athenian military activity in the straits in the Archidamian War in the 420s, which goes mostly unreported by Thucydides.27 Special categories of tribute payment, known as rubrics, show unusual circumstances of payment by communities in the region (in some cases direct

21  See Luraghi (2018) for the first in a series of studies reading Herodotus (and Thucydides) with awareness of the maintained importance of Persia for the Greeks before the Ionian War. 22  Thuc. 1.94. 23  Thuc. 1.128–31. 24  Thuc. 1.138. 25  Thuc. 1.115. 26  For example, Kalchedon (certainly), Byzantion and Kyzikos (probably; the entries are fragmentary) from 452/1 (IG I3 261.5 lines 19, 29, 30), Selymbria from 451/0 (IG I3 262.4 line 14). 27  Note Thuc. 4.75, which refers to the commanders of the Athenian fleet at the Hellespont collecting silver in 424 bc; Kallet-­Marx (1993) 160–4 makes a convincing case that we should not link these money-­collecting ships with tribute.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  217 collection by Athenian troops), mostly around the Hellespont, but also further to the east.28 The region comes into focus in Thucydides’ narrative, then in Xenophon’s Hellenica, when military engagements moved to the east Aegean in 413 bc. We hear how the satrap at Daskyleion, Pharnabazos, in competition with the satrap at Sardis, Tissaphernes, intervened in the conflict between the Athenians and the Spartans. Pierre Briant notes that such competition between satraps is frequently attested and was perhaps even encouraged by the king to prevent satraps becoming too big for their boots.29 In 413/12, Pharnabazos asked the Spartans to send a fleet to him, not to Tissaphernes; Thucydides describes how he wanted to cause revolt among communities in the region and reclaim tribute contributions.30 Eventually some Peloponnesian ships were sent to Pharnabazos, leading to the revolt of Byzantion.31 After the return of the charismatic general Alkibiades from exile, the Athenians enjoyed fleeting renewed success. In 410, they won a sea battle against the Peloponnesians at Kyzikos, and Alkibiades used the momentum after the battle to levy a toll on passing ships at Chrysopolis, on the Asian side of the Bosporos near Kalchedon (this will be discussed in detail below (section 6.3), along with other evidence of Athenian taxation in the area).32 From 409, Alkibiades reintegrated a number of Greek cities in the area, including Byzantion.33 Xenophon’s report of Selymbria’s reintegration is supplemented by an Athenian decree recording both Alkibiades’ agreement and its subsequent ratification in the assembly at Athens, which shows how the negotiations between the Athenians and the Selymbrians were circumscribed by the parameters of honorific diplomacy.34 The decree for Sigeion, mentioned above, also likely fits into this context, as does the decree for Kios (a community on the Asian side of the Propontis), which is lost except for the heading and document relief.35 By 407, the tide had turned once more, with the Persian king Darios II de­cisive­ly intervening on the Peloponnesian side, by sending his brother Cyrus to western Anatolia.36 The battle which heralded Athenian defeat in the Peloponnesian War was fought at Aegospotamoi, on the European side of the Hellespont.37 This brief account shows how our understanding of the region—­and Athens’s activity in it—­between the 470s and 413 is very limited, at least when we rely on the primary literary narratives. The role of Daskyleion in the dynamics of the region is also largely obscure before Pharnabazos’ exploits in the final stages of

28  The more complete rubric headings include [ἐτέ]λ̣εσαν ℎαίδε ἀ̣[πὸ] τ͂ο [ℎε]λλ[εοποντί]ο φόρο, ‘these poleis paid from the Hellespontine tribute’ (IG I3 281.3 lines 42–53) and [π]όλες αἵ[δ]ε ἀρχαῖς [ἔδ]οσαν τὸμ φόρον, ‘these poleis paid the tribute to the magistrates’ (IG I3 282.1 lines 11–4). 29  Briant (2002) 594. 30  Thuc. 8.6. 31  Thuc. 8.60. 32 Xen. Hell. 1.1.22. 33 Xen. Hell. 1.3.14–22. 34 Xen. Hell. 1.3.10; IG I3 118 = OR 185. See section 1.3.2.2. 35  IG I3 17 (Sigeion); IG I3 124 (Kios). 36 Xen. Hell. 1.3.8–14. 37 Xen. Hell. 2.1.27–8.

218  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc the war. Only a few passing references to possible Greek interaction with the satrap in earlier years can be collected: the episkopos in Aristophanes’ Birds says that he has been negotiating with Pharnakes, the father of Pharnabazos, while Thucydides describes Peloponnesian ambassadors being intercepted by the Thracian king Sitalkes on their way to Pharnabazos in 430 bc.38 The satrap’s power may well have been limited in the years after the Persian defeat, but there was presumably much more Achaemenid activity in the region than is reported by Thucydides. Regardless of the physical separation agreed in the Peace of Kallias,39 the geographical reality of the straits was such that the Achaemenid and Athenian spheres had to come into contact, like nowhere else in the Aegean. As I stressed above, a quick look at a map will show that the satrapal seat of Daskyleion was a mere 30 kilometres from Kyzikos and the Propontis, less than a day’s journey. Today, the site of Daskyleion and the modern town of Bandırma are linked by a straight, flat motorway, with the journey taking under an hour. Like Bursa and Apameia in the first century, Kyzikos was Daskyleion’s closest port. Thucydides’ focus was on the conflict between the Athenians and the Peloponnesians; his ­historiographical horizons did not always stretch to other kinds of interaction. We will have to look to other sources to understand how the Athenian and Achaemenid spheres overlapped. For the purposes of this chapter, I will limit my focus primarily to the Asiatic side of the Bosporos and Propontis (straying over a little to the European side where necessary, especially in consideration of Byzantion). My analysis will fall into two parts, focusing first on the allied community of Kyzikos, its electrum coinage, and its position in the liminal zone between the Aegean and the Black Sea, between the influences of Athens and Daskyleion; then on the unparalleled phenomenon of direct Athenian taxation in the straits. These two focuses will allow me to explore Athenian commercial and fiscal strategies in this competitive landscape, and the overlapping spheres of Athens and Daskyleion.

6.2  Kyzikos: Between Athens and Daskyleion I will first investigate the intersection between Athenian power, Persian satrapal influence, and allied agency through examination of the case of Kyzikos, a polis advantageously situated on the Asiatic shore of the Propontis, adjacent to the trade routes passing between the Hellespont and the Bosporos (see Maps 1 and 7). In particular, I will focus on Kyzikos’ unusual numismatic output—­its production

38 Ar. Av. 1028; Thuc. 2.67.1. 39  As explained at Chapter 5.2.2, I am happy to accept the historicity of the peace.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  219 of electrum staters—­as a way to explore Athenian fiscal strategy and overlapping Athenian and Achaemenid claims in the straits. Kyzikos had two harbours, on either side of the artificial isthmus linking the island of Arktonnesos to the mainland.40 Our understanding of the community in the fifth century is rather limited, as it is for the region more broadly. There are some references in the literary sources, necessarily mostly in the narrative of the Ionian War. It switched back and forth between Athenian and Peloponnesian/ Persian control in this period; its strategic position clearly made it a desirable target for both sides.41 The fragment from Eupolis’ Poleis referring to it suggests that Athens may have had a garrison there at some point.42 Our archaeological knowledge of Kyzikos is also scanty, as excavations have only been undertaken there on a limited scale. Kyzikos has even been described as ‘the least studied of the great cities of Asia’.43 Today, the primary structure of the ancient city visible to the modern visitor is a Hadrianic-­era temple; its impressive scale and enormous column capitals show the wealth of Kyzikos in the Roman period.44 Further, the inscriptions which have emerged have not been systematically or comprehensively published and, to the best of my knowledge, there are no public documents from the time of the Athenian empire, although there are two conventionally dated to the late sixth century.45 The more complete of the two, a rare decree honouring a certain Medikes and the heirs of Aesepos (which appears to have been re-­inscribed in the first century bc), describes a number of different kinds of taxation when specifying the honorands’ privileges, including those imposed on the horse and slave trades (ἱππωνίης, ἀνδραποδωνίης), attesting to Kyzikos’ commercial concerns in the late archaic period.46 One category of evidence which is abundantly available for study is the coinage of Kyzikos (see Figure 6.2). A number of hoards containing Kyzikene coins have come to light, and there are numerous references in the epigraphic and literary records. The numismatic output of Kyzikos was unique. For a period of over two hundred years from the second half of the sixth century through to the end of the fourth, Kyzikos minted staters and fractions made of electrum, an alloy of gold

40  Described at Strab. 12.8.11. 41  Thuc. 8.107 reports that in 411 bc the Athenians retook Kyzikos, which had revolted; we learn from Xen. Hell. 1.1.20. that it was back in Peloponnesian hands shortly afterwards, before being retaken by Alkibiades for the Athenians once again. 42  Eupol. fr. 247 (Storey). The section quoted at the beginning of the chapter is followed by one of the speakers remembering his ‘guard duty in the city’ (ἐν τῇδε τοίνυν τῇ πόλει φρουρῶν). 43  Mitchell (1998) 130. 44  See also Hasluck (1910) 6–7 for a description of the site before modern development in the area. 45  List of Kyzikene decrees provided by Rhodes (1997) 415–16; overview of Kyzikene inscriptions by Habicht (2014). Effenterre and Ruzé (1994) nos 1.32 (honorific document) and 1.74 (fragmentary cult regulation). 46  Effenterre and Ruzé (1994) no. 1.32 lines 4–6.

220  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

Figure 6.2  Electrum stater of Kyzikos, c.480–470 bc (von Fritze no. 105). The obverse side depicts a youth riding a dolphin and holding a tuna fish. The reverse side has an incuse square. ANS 1974.53.7. Printed with the kind permission of the American Numismatic Society.

and silver.47 The earliest coins minted in western Anatolia in the seventh and sixth centuries had been made of electrum.48 But by the second half of the sixth century most cities had switched to silver, as it was easier to ensure stable metallic composition and thus intrinsic value. Kyzikos continued to use electrum, most likely because it was sought after in the Black Sea area, as we will see. In the case of the Kyzikene electrum staters, the alloy was artificially manufactured, but the exact metallic composition changed from issue to issue. This variable metallic content does not seem to have impacted its success. Kyzikos also minted silver coins, but these issues were less prolific and were limited to local use.49 The reverse of the electrum issues always bore an incuse square, which only changed slightly in the history of the coinage. The iconography of the obverse, however, was remarkably diverse. Over their period of production, the coins show a large number of different images, which changed on a regular basis; around 290 obverse types are attested.50 As Von Fritze’s catalogue shows, some 47  The foundational 1912 study of the electrum coinage by Hans von Fritze is still the basic reference work. See also the papers by Hurter and Liewald (2002), (2004), (2006), which add new types. For a useful survey of relevant bibliography, see De Callataÿ (2020). For discussion of Kyzikene ­electrum coinage in the context of fifth-­century Athenian power, see Figueira (1998), especially at 96–105; Kallet and Kroll (2020) 42–6 and 140–2. 48 Many insights into early electrum coinage are provided by Van Alfen and Wartenberg’s (2020) volume. 49  Mackil and Van Alfen (2006) 214. 50  De Callataÿ (2020) 642.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  221 recurrent iconographic themes can be identified, including animals and ­mythological subjects. Mostly, but not always, a small image of the tuna fish was also included, the mark of the city. No fully satisfactory explanation has been ­suggested for the use of such diverse iconography. For Colin Kraay, these ever-­ changing types show that the electrum coinage was not the official coinage of Kyzikos;51 it became a kind of common coinage, not simply identified with one city. François De Callataÿ suggests that because Kyzikene coinage had such a monopoly in the Black Sea region there was no need for it to maintain a dis­tinct­ ive type, as it had no competitors from which to differentiate itself.52 The electrum issues had a very wide circulation; hoards have been found in Asia Minor, Thrace, Athens, Olympia, and, as I already mentioned, most notably in the Black Sea.53 It seems that electrum was a particularly desirable medium of exchange in the region. Archaic epigraphic evidence from the northern coast of the Black Sea records payments made in electrum.54 To date, eight hoards from subsequent centuries containing Kyzikene staters have been found in that same area,55 one on the western Black Sea coast, and a large number of individual finds.56 A very large hoard of Kyzikenes dating to the early fourth century was found in 2003 buried under a sanctuary building at ancient Myrmekion on the Kimmerian Bosporos (modern-­day Crimea; see Map 8).57 It contained ninety-­ nine staters with fifty-­three different types, with the coins dating to the late fifth century and buried in the first decades of the fourth.58 No other major, widely circulated coinage used in trade during the fifth century (such as the Athenian owls or the Aeginetan turtles, both made of silver) has been found in the Black Sea region.59 Like Thasian coins in inland Thrace, Kyzikene electrum coins circulated in a region where the owls simply did not penetrate:60 monetary circulation in the Aegean and Black Sea formed distinct zones, in contrast to the Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean. A few other cities also minted electrum coins in the fifth century: Lampsakos, on the Hellespont, but its issues were much smaller and production had ceased by the middle of the century;61 and Mytilene and Phokaia, which joined in an epigraphically attested agreement of the late fifth century to share the minting of their electrum staters, 51  Kraay (1976) 261. 52  De Callataÿ (2020) 648. 53  Butyagin and Chisov (2006) 88. In the final stages of my writing, war broke out in Ukraine, and the northern shore of the Black Sea became subject to devastating violence; Crimea had, of course, been under Russian occupation for some time. I am very aware of this contemporary context as I discuss the movement of Kyzikene coinage to the region and my thoughts are with the people of Ukraine. 54  Mielczarek (2020) 666. 55  Bulatovich and Redina (2021) Appendix 1 for a map. 56  Mielczarek (2020) 670 provides maps of single finds. 57  Coin Hoards 10 19. See Butyagin and Chisov (2006); Abramzon and Frovlova (2007). 58  Butyagin and Chisov (2006) 77. 59  Mackil and Van Alfen (2006) 214. For more detail regarding the circulation of the coinage in the Black Sea, see Mielczarek (2020). 60  Picard (2011) 90. 61  Figueira (1998) 97.

222  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc but whose output was also much smaller, and mostly found in Phokaia’s hinterland in Anatolia.62 The Kyzikene electrum stater was, without doubt, the Black Sea trade coin of choice. Its popularity was also fuelled by demand for the coinage as bullion for the production of luxury goods; in this region, coins very much had value beyond the monetary.63 Many precious metal objects, classified as so-­called Graeco-­ Scythian art, have been excavated in funerary contexts dating to the fifth and fourth centuries in the northern Black Sea.64 Such objects attest to the prom­in­ ence of an elite who operated beyond the polis system, defined by, in Caspar Meyer’s words, ‘trans-­cultural status activities’;65 they may have changed hands through forms of exchange other than commerce, such as gifting. The famous electrum Kul-­Oba vase, for instance, found in a grave near Kerch, which depicts warriors engaged in interpersonal interactions, is even inscribed with numerals on the bottom, indicating its value in staters (and possibly the number of coins that were melted down to produce it).66 The vase provides the perfect example of the potentially diverse life cycle of a stater. A hoard found at Orlovka in Ukraine in 1967, now in the Archaeological Museum at Odessa, has a coin with a portrait head on the obverse which is very similar to the warriors on the Kul-­Oba vase, perhaps indicating Kyzikene awareness of this Graeco-­Scythian receptivity.67 We need to bear this Black Sea context in mind when we consider the production of the coinage. Numismatists have debated how and why the electrum staters were put into circulation in the first instance. They would have been difficult to produce, given that Kyzikos had no local source of precious metal, necessitating the import of both gold and silver—­perhaps partially through the collection of other coinages in its harbours—­and the artificial manufacture of the alloy. Indeed, difficulties in production may have been a factor in the agreement between Mytilene and Phokaia, to spread the risks of minting such a coinage.68 The need to fulfil state obligations such as military expenditure may have been part of the picture in the case of the Kyzikene issues.69 Certainly, Xenophon describes 62  IG 12 2 1 = OR 195; see Ellis-­Evans (2019) 189–90 for brief discussion of Mytilenean electrum issues, along with Mytilene’s other alloyed coinage, produced from billon. 63  Note that this preference for electrum/gold in the region persisted into the Hellenistic period: gold coins with the types of Lysimachos were minted in large numbers by cities in the straits and the Black Sea in the third and second centuries: see Thonemann (2015) 35–7. 64  See H. C. Meyer’s (2013) study. 65  H. C. Meyer (2013) 305. I am grateful to Al Moreno for drawing my attention to this Graeco-­ Scythian material culture. 66  H. C. Meyer (2013) Inventory 2, K. 9a. 67  Bulatovich and Redina (2021) no. 66 with discussion of the Kul-­Oba vase at pp. 107–8. 68  Mackil and Van Alfen (2006) 216. 69 For De Callataÿ (2020) 649–50 this is the whole explanation. Psoma (2020) 691 notes that Xenophon only describes military payments made in staters in north-­western Asia Minor and Propontic Thrace, so this may have been a regionally specific use of the coinage. Note that other electrum issues have been connected with particular military campaigns: rare electrum coinage dating to the late archaic period has been associated with the Ionian Revolt (see, however, Wartenberg (2020) for a recent reassessment of this association); and Thebes minted a small number of electrum coins in

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  223 military payments being made in the medium of the staters,70 and inscribed accounts from Athens show they were used to pay for Athenian military expenses incurred off the Peloponnesian coast in 418 bc.71 This does not fully explain, however, why the coins were minted in electrum; it really does seem that the alloy was aimed at the demand in Black Sea markets, and the Graeco-­Scythian hinterland beyond. Mackil and Van Alfen suggest, building on the traditional identification of the staters as a trade coinage, that the producers sold their coins as a commodity to others.72 They also argue that profits could have been increased by manipulation of the composition of the alloy, although we have no direct evidence for this process from antiquity.73 We must also ask how this important coinage was produced so prolifically and for such a long period during a time of geopolitical change by a city of significant but not exceptional size and importance, with no metal resources of its own.74 Kyzikos was not only producing coinage but, judging by the preliminary results of Francois De Callataÿ’s die study (a numismatic methodology which allows for an estimation of quantification), producing it on an enormous scale.75 The success of the stater is all the more remarkable considering that the production of silver coinages other than the Athenian owl was generally in decline across the Aegean in the fifth century.76 Leo Mildenberg notes that the production of Kyzikene electrum staters was ‘never disturbed by Athens or Persia’; but one has to ask whether the production was not despite Athens or Persia but because of these powers.77 In the next sections, I will place Kyzikos, and the remarkable output of its mint, in relation to the intersecting spheres of influence of Athens and Daskyleion, perhaps raising more questions than can be satisfactorily answered. De Callataÿ’s complete die study would be very welcome in this regard.78 Nonetheless, this focus will allow exploration of the predominantly laissez-­faire Athenian approach to surplus extraction and use of coinage; allied agency in liminal zones such as the straits; and the overlap between Athenian and Achaemenid power.

6.2.1  Athens and the Black Sea Before I can consider the importance of Kyzikos to the Athenians, it is necessary to look eastwards, beyond the Propontis and the Bosporos, to the Black Sea, the primary region where the Kyzikene electrum staters circulated (see again Map 8).

the fourth century, which Gartland (2013) argues were intended for military pay in the Propontis/ Black Sea region. 70 Xen. Anab. 5.6.23, 7.3.10. 71  IG I3 370 = OR 170 lines 13–15. 72  Mackil and Van Alfen (2006) 215. 73  Mackil and Van Alfen (2006) 217. 74  Mildenberg (1993–4) 2. 75  De Callataÿ (2020). 76  As made clear in Figueira (1998). 77  Mildenberg (1993–4) 2. 78  De Callataÿ (2020).

224  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Scholars of the twentieth century often assumed that the Athenians were dependent on Black Sea grain imports in the fifth century and/or that they controlled the grain supply from this area to the Aegean in general.79 There are contemporary sources linking Athens to grain from this area, most prominently the second Methone decree, which refers to a grain store at Byzantion (discussed in section 6.3 below).80 Fourth-­century sources imply a late fifth-­century relationship between the Athenians and Satyros, a king of the Kimmerian Bosporos (more on this in a moment).81 There is also contemporary testimony for Black Sea grain moving through the straits to the Aegean in the fifth century more generally.82 However, while it is entirely possible that Athenians bought some Black Sea grain, scholars including Braund and Moreno have shown that the available evidence does not indicate Athenian dependence on Black Sea grain in the fifth century, at least before its final decades, nor Athenian control of the entire supply to the Aegean.83 In connection with this orthodoxy, scholars, more often than not, still assume that the Athenians incorporated a number of Black Sea communities as allies. This is illustrated, for instance, by scanning the relevant chapter of the Inventory of Archaic and Classical Greek Poleis, which notes that various poleis were Athenian allies on the basis of minimal if not non-­existent evidence.84 In fact, there are only scattered testimonies of direct Athenian involvement in the Black Sea itself in the fifth century. To my knowledge, the only reference to state-­level Athenian interest in the Black Sea in contemporary historiography is Thucydides’ report of Lamachos’ failed expedition to the south coast in 424.85 More explicit reports are provided by Plutarch’s Life of Perikles, which seems to be the root of the problem. Plutarch describes how Perikles ‘brought the whole sea under their control’, and sent an Athenian colony to live at Sinope.86 He also repeats the report that Aristeides died in the Black Sea, whilst on an expedition in the public service.87 Plutarch was keen on ascribing otherwise unknown settlement activity to

79  For the former see, for example, a casual aside by Meiggs (1972) 148 when discussing the Peace of Kallias: ‘Athens did not renounce the right to send triremes into the Euxine, which she might want to do to protect her corn-­supplies’; for the latter see Finley (1981) 55, referring to the officials called the Hellespontophylakes in the second Methone decree (IG I3 61 = OR 150): ‘potentially, with the backing of the Athenian navy, they could deny any and every Greek city access to the Black Sea, and therefore access to the main seaborne route . . . for grain’. 80  IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 34–41. 81  Isoc. 17.57 (dating to c.393), IG II3 1 298 = RO 64 line 23 (honorific decree dating to 346, referring back to relationships with earlier Spartokid kings). 82  Hdt. 6.5, 7.147; see also Hdt. 6.5, 6.26 for the Milesian tyrant Histiaios seizing merchant ships in the straits; Thuc. 3.2 for the Mytileneans bringing in grain from the Black Sea before their revolt. 83  See Braund (2007); Moreno (2007), especially chapter 4. Garnsey (1988) 120–33 also draws a much more varied picture of Athenian grain sources. 84  See Avram, Hind, and Tsetskhladze (2004). 85  Thuc. 4.75. 86 Plut. Per. 20: πᾶσαν ὑφ᾽ αὑτοῖς πεποιημένων τὴν θάλασσαν. For a sceptical view on the historicity of this passage with further bibliography, see Tsetskhladze (1997). 87 Plut. Arist. 26.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  225 Perikles, in line with his depiction of Perikles as a demagogue enforcing populist measures.88 He may have also been influenced by his knowledge of Athenian interest in the Black Sea in the fourth century, and his understanding of Hellenistic and Roman imperial foundations. Aside from Thucydides, other contemporary evidence can perhaps be provided by the epigraphic record. Rather dubiously, Nymphaion is restored in a tribute quota list on the basis of a fragment of Krateros, supported by a brief reference in  Aeschines.89 A special Euxine panel is partially restored in the 425/4 ­reassessment list: [πόλες] ἐκ τ͂ο Εὐ̣[χσείνο] — — — [ℎερ]α̣κλεῖοτα[ι] — — —  [Ἀπολ]λονία — — —  [Κάρο]σ̣α̣ [Poleis] from the [Euxine] [Her]akleiotai [Apol]lonia [Karosa]90

These restorations are not secure; perhaps the most convincing is Herakleia, a city on the south coast. Even if we accept some or all of these restorations, however, we must bear in mind that the presence of a community on the 425/4 assessment list does not indicate actual tribute contributions or membership of the alliance. Melos, for example, is listed, when we know very well from Thucydides that in 416 the island was independent of Athenian power.91 The potential presence of Euxine communities, then, could point to Athenian intent or interaction rather than control. A similar conclusion can be drawn from Bdelykleon’s comic exaggeration in Aristophanes’ Wasps that the Athenians ‘rule over a vast number of cities, from the Black Sea to Sardinia’,92 and from the Old Oligarch’s claim that luxuries came to Athens from the Pontos (as well as other areas beyond Athenian control such as Egypt and Italy).93 More complicated evidence is perhaps provided by the discovery of a fragment of the Athenian ‘Standards decree’ at Olbia.94 Olbia (like Kyzikos, as I will explore below in section 6.2.4) acted as the coastal Greek interface with the non-­Greek inland beyond, so it would make sense for the Athenians to target interaction with the city in particular. As the final destination of many ships coming from the Aegean and the straits, it would also have been necessary for mobile individuals at Olbia to be informed about Athenian commercial restrictions. 88  Suggested by Figueira (1991) 64–6. 89  Krateros FGrHist 242; Aeschin. 3.171. 91  IG I3 71.1 line 65; Thuc. 5.84–116. 94  IG I3 1453 = OR 155.

90  IG I3 71 lines 124–9. 92 Ar. Vesp. 700. 93 [Xen.] Ath. Pol. 2.7.

226  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc It is this mobility upon which we should perhaps focus. Indeed, a better way of understanding Athenian interest in the Black Sea, at least on its northern shores in the final decades of the fifth century, is through the movement of individuals and the cultivation of personal relationships. The geopolitical landscape of the region cannot be fully understood through the application of the polis model, although there were Greek settlements; rather, we should acknowledge the op­er­ ation of an extra-polis, ‘Graeco-­Scythian’ elite. Although there is evidence for such an elite earlier in the fifth century,95 the Spartokid dynasty that came to power at Pantikapaion in 438 brings this class of individuals more clearly into view in the literary and epigraphic records.96 It is well known that in the fourth century the Athenians passed multiple honorific decrees for the Spartokid kings of the Kimmerian Bosporos, attested in inscriptions and in the orators,97 The fourth-­century evidence shows that this relationship originated in the fifth century, with honours for the late fifth-­century king Satyros, who is said to have provided grain to the Athenians in a speech dated to the late 390s bc.98 But there are also indications of more personal relationships and mobility: Manitheos, the speaker of Lysias 16, says that he was sent by his father to live at the court of Satyros prior to the battle of Aigospotamoi,99 while Xenophon reports that Byzantine friends of Alkibiades fled to the Black Sea when the city fell out of Athenian hands in 405 bc.100 By the 390s bc, the son of the Bosporan noble Sopaios could sail to Athens and fall in with Isokrates (who helped him to bring a suit against the banker Pasion).101 As Moreno argues, the aforementioned fourth-­century Kul-­Oba vase showing pairs of warriors engaged in interpersonal interactions may represent xenia, and thus provide a local reception of the exact kinds of relationships promoted by the Athenians.102 I have already noted how the Athenians cultivated individual relationships with powerholders in Macedon and Cyprus in the fifth century, and Thrace and Phoenicia in the fourth; these kinds of relationships, sometimes negotiated through honorific diplomacy, were especially helpful for the Athenians beyond the formal limits of the empire, and when particular resources were at stake. It is thus no surprise that 95  Moreno (2007) 146–69. 96  Moreno (2007) 170 for this chronology. 97 Dem. 20.29–40 describes the honours bestowed on Leukon, and the importance of the Kimmerian Bosporos for the Athenian grain supply in the fourth century; IG II3 1 298 = RO 64 records an honorific decree for Spartakos and Pairisiades, sons of Leukon, dating to 346. See also IG II3 1 462, an honorific decree for men from the Kimmerian Bosporos dating to the mid-­fourth century; Dem. 34.6, which refers to the privileges awarded by Pairisiades to the Athenians; IG II3 1 870 = AIUK 4.2 no. 12 which records an early third-­century decree honouring King Spartakos III, showing the maintained ties between Athens and the Spartakid dynasty in the Hellenistic period. For an overview, see Moreno (2007) 169–205. 98  IG II3 1 298 = RO 64 line 23; see again Isoc. 17.57 (dating to c.393). 99  Lys. 16.4. 100 Xen. Hell. 2.2.1. Moreno (2007) 177 provides a useful diagram of relationships between Athenian and Bosporan elites. 101  Isoc. 17. 102  Moreno (2007) 199–200.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  227 the Athenians should apply such a strategy in the Black Sea, where the polis was not the only or key form of political organization. To sum up, then, the Black Sea was not beyond the scope of the Athenian imagination, but we do not have the evidence to contend that widespread Athenian control of Black Sea communities was a reality. All in all, Athenian mobility in the Black Sea in the fifth century seems a better way to make sense of the available sources, perhaps including targeted interactions with individual polis communities, and extra-polis individuals, rather than widespread activity or influence; likewise there were undoubtedly commercial connections, including but not limited to grain imports, between Athens and the Black Sea, but we cannot argue for an Athenian monopoly of the Aegean–­Euxine grain trade.

6.2.1.1  Athens and the Kyzikene Staters However, as with the eastern Mediterranean and inland Thrace, I argue that the Athenians still profited from this lucrative commercial network, beyond the scope of its primary Aegean sphere of influence, through the collection of tribute from communities on the straits which were better integrated and more experienced in exploitation of the passing traffic. This is implied by the substantial tribute contributions made by communities in the region: Kyzikos, Kalchedon, and Selymbria paid as much as 9 talents,103 Lampsakos contributed up to 15 talents,104 and Byzantion, one of Nixon and Price’s ‘big-­spenders’, a whopping 21 talents 3420 drachmas.105 There were also many other communities in the region making smaller contributions. These tribute payments were likely based on communities’ own taxation of mobility.106 All together, the tribute collected from the straits would have been highly significant for the Athenians. But I think that we can go further than simply drawing these conclusions on the basis of the lists, and this is where the unusual numismatic evidence comes into play. I take the circulation of the Kyzikene electrum staters as tangible proof of the dynamic whereby the Athenians used allied communities to profit from mobility and connectivity beyond the scope of their Aegean sphere. We have already seen how the staters circulated in the Black Sea region. Significantly, they also had value in the Aegean, and particularly in an Athenian context, where they were accepted by the state in official transactions. The tribute contributions not only of Kyzikos, but also of other communities in the area, were (at least on some occasions) made in Kyzikenes. This is explicitly stated in a postscript to the first list (gold, χρυσίο, here refers to electrum):

103 For example, Kyzikos IG I3 269.2 line 23 (443/2); Kalchedon IG I3 264.3 line 26 (448/7); Selymbria IG I3 281.3 line 19 (first half of 420s). 104  For example, IG I3 262.4 line 5 (451/0). 105  IG I3 281.3 line 49 (first half of 420s); Nixon and Price (1990) 153. 106  Nixon and Price (1990).

228  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc 10 [χ]ρυσίο σύμ[παντος Κυζικ]εν͂ο : κ[ε]φά̣[λαιον ν στατ͂ερ]ες Κυ[ζικενοί] Of all Kyzikene electrum: total in Kyzikene staters.107

The Athenians were happy to receive the staters and acknowledged them in their official, inscribed documentation. The staters likely also appear in other tribute quota lists: as Eddy shows, odd amounts of contributions from Kyzikos, but also from other communities in the straits, are explicable when an exchange between Kyzikene and Athenian coins is taken into account.108 Kyzikene staters surface in many other Athenian financial documents, more than most other coinages. The accounts of the Treasures of the Other Gods of 428/7, for example, have multiple entries: χρυσί[ο στατ͂ε]-|ρες Κυ[ζικεν͂ο].109 Kyzikenes are listed in the Eleusis inventories,110 those of the Hekatompedon,111 and in the building accounts of the Parthenon.112 On one occasion, as mentioned above, the accounts of the Treasurers of Athena list staters handed over to pay for naval expenditure in the Peloponnese.113 It should be noted, however, that the epistatai of the Parthenon handed on the same Kyzikenes year after year. It seems that the workmen could not be paid with the coinage, and thus that they were not necessarily suitable for low-­level financial transactions in Athens itself. The ­staters presumably arrived in Athens through tribute, through other taxation (which will be discussed more in section 6.3), or through private commercial activity. Even if workmen could not be paid with Kyzikene staters, there is evidence for their private use by elite individuals in Athens. A hoard with about eighty Kyzikenes, buried in the fourth century, was found at the Piraeus.114 In Against Eratosthenes, Lysias describes how he owned large numbers of Kyzikenes (as well as Persian Darics).115 As Thomas Figueira points out, Kyzikene staters would have been useful to members of the elite who might be mobile in the Aegean, not only because their value transcended their city of issue, but also the limits of Athenian power.116 By the fourth century, we have reports of Athenian traders making exchanges into Kyzikenes before entering the Black Sea at the Bosporos.117 Their use by private individuals, and their widespread recognition in an Athenian context, is shown by the—­perhaps surprising—­prominence of Kyzikene staters in Old Comedy. The chorus leader of Aristophanes’ Peace describes a ­cowardly taxiarch going pale like the colour of the electrum coins: 107  IG I3 259 postscript lines 10–12. 108  Eddy (1973); see Thompson (1963) and Eddy (1970) on the value of the Kyzikene stater relative to Athenian tetradrachms. 109  IG I3 383 lines 45–6. 110  For example, IG I3 384 lines 3–4. Further references provided by Figueira (1998) 100. 111  For example, IG I3 341 line 11. 112  For example, IG I3 449 = OR 145 lines 405–9. 113  IG I3 370 = OR 170 lines 13–15. 114  IGCH 47. 115  Lys. 12.11; see also Lys. 32.6. 116  Figueira (1998) 101; see also Mackil and Van Alfen (2006) 218. 117  Dem. 34.23.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  229 Fatter than if I were staring at some god-­detested taxiarch wearing three crests and a very bright scarlet cloak, which he says is Sardian colour; though if by any chance he has to fight wearing that cloak, then he himself gets dyed Kyzikene colour (τηνικαῦτ᾽ αὐτὸς βέβαπται βάμμα Κυζικηνικόν).118

The extended fragment of Eupolis’ Demes found in the Cairo papyrus includes an exchange between a just man and a sycophant, who says that he demanded 100 gold (i.e. electrum) staters from a foreigner (perhaps a metic like Lysias).119 Kyzikos is one of the allied communities personified and presented on stage in the chorus of Eupolis’ Poleis; the personification’s defining characteristic, as we have seen, is the staters.120 One wonders whether the chorus member’s costume would have included the coins in some way. Of course, other coins would have come to Athens, but silver coins would often have been melted down and re-­minted, so might not have been so prominent in the archaeological or literary records. Nonetheless, it is notable how visible Kyzikene electrum staters are in an Athenian context. At multiple levels, then, I argue, the Athenians participated in and profited from economic activity facilitated by use of the Kyzikene electrum coinage. Kyzikene staters circulated in the Black Sea, supporting commercial activity (a state of affairs pre-­existing the rise of Athenian power). At the edge of this ­network, in the liminal zone linking it to the Aegean, the Athenians skimmed off surplus, particularly through the collection of tribute, which was often paid in the dominant coinage of the area, the staters. Consequently, it was important that in an Athenian context, the electrum staters also had value—­both for the state and for the individual—­and we have plentiful evidence to suggest that they did. The Athenian use of the Kyzikene staters, particularly the imposition of large-­scale fiscal responsibilities on communities where the Kyzikene stater would have been a major coinage, may have supported its continued production and circulation through increased demand, especially if we accept that the coinage was being produced as a commodity for sale. Indeed, one of the preliminary conclusions of De Callataÿ’s die study is the marked increase in the production of the staters in the fifth century, during the time of Athenian power.121

6.2.2  Athens and Kyzikene Agency We need, however, to allow for Kyzikene agency in this dynamic. There is evidence to suggest that not only did the Athenians participate in activity in the 118 Ar. Pax. 1172–6. Sommerstein (1985) 189 suggests that there may also be a pun on khezein (‘defecate’), with the implication that the taxiarch soils himself. 119  Eupolis fr. 99.86–7 (Storey). 120  Eupolis fr. 247 (Storey). 121  De Callataÿ (2020).

230  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc medium of the Kyzikene stater, but that the Kyzikenes in turn cooperated, and were aware of the liminal and lucrative position they held between the Athenian Aegean sphere and the Black Sea. It is worth noting that Athenian iconographic motifs appear on the coins in the fifth century.122 In the first half of the fifth century, for example, we find Harmodios and Aristogeiton, the Tyrannicides, in iconography seemingly based on the statue group in the Athenian agora (see Figure 6.3).123 Even more strikingly, by the early fourth century, a number of obverse dies show the owl positioned over the tuna fish.124 At the very least, these types shows that the Kyzikenes were exposed to Athenian iconography during the time of Athenian power, and that Athenian cultural forms spread to allied communities. But it is also rea­son­ able to posit that the Kyzikenes were making a deliberate choice to align themselves with Athens by replicating Athenian iconography, perhaps even with an Athenian audience in mind. Two intriguing lead weights can also perhaps build on this picture of Kyzikene initiative. The first was published in a 2002 auction catalogue, the second came to the Ashmolean Museum as part of a collection of weights from the Black Sea and

Figure 6.3  Electrum stater of Kyzikos, c.500–475 bc (von Fritze no. 120). The obverse side depicts the Athenian tyrannicides Harmodios and Aristogeiton holding swords with a tuna fish. The reverse side has an incuse square. ANS 1944.100.42712. Printed with the kind permission of the American Numismatic Society.

122  Abramzon and Frovlova (2007) 21; Kallet and Kroll (2020) 140–1. 123  Von Fritze no. 120. 124  Von Fritze no. 180.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  231

Figure 6.4  Weight of Kyzikos with owl and tuna fish. Photograph by Ôguz Tekin, printed with the kind permission of the Ashmolean Museum.

was published in 2004 (see Figure  6.4).125 These stamps bear the owl with the olive spray, as on the reverse of Athenian tetradrachms, with the tuna fish of Kyzikos below. They have been dated on the basis of iconography to the end of the fifth century.126 Both weights have approximately the same weight of 115 g and the same dimensions of 3.5 by 3.5 cm.127 According to John Kroll, the weights appear to have been stamped with the same punch; although they surfaced on the market separately, similar wear suggests they came from the same find context.128 The origin of the weights is perhaps not immediately apparent. The owl rarely appears on weights from Athens.129 The tuna fish is only one of a number of images found on Kyzikene weights, which usually also have the abbreviated ethnic ‘KYZ’ or ‘KYZI’ and a unit mark.130 Consequently, Meyer and Moreno saw this as a weight providing an Attic–­Kyzikene metrological equivalence, adopted by an unknown Black Sea city.131 Tekin, however, lists the weight known to him with others from Kyzikos, and Kroll builds on this classification, noting that the tuna fish would have acted as an identifier.132 It is notable that by the beginning of the fourth century, the Kyzikenes minted coins with this combination of images. 125 Kroll (2018); Meyer and Moreno (2004). Only the latter was known to Tekin in his 2016 ­catalogue of weights. 126  Meyer and Moreno (2004). 127  Kroll (2018) 85. 128  Kroll (2018). 129  Note an example with an incised owl, which bears little resemblance to these weights: Tekin (2016) 42. 130  Tekin (2016) 70. 131  Meyer and Moreno (2004) 214. 132  Tekin (2016) 81; Kroll (2018) 88.

232  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Kroll convincingly argues that the standard of the two weights is Attic, making them Athenian quarter-­minas.133 We thus have weights on the Attic standard, manufactured in Kyzikos, with the symbols of both cities. Kroll argues that these weights could be evidence of the working of the Athenian ‘Standards decree’, which attempted to impose the use of Athenian coinage, weights, and measures on allied communities (variously dated to the 420s or to shortly before 413), although he acknowledges that they could have been manufactured before.134 If Kroll is right, these weights would be exceptional, given that there is no other material evidence clearly attesting to the efficacy of the decree. For that reason, I am not certain that we can link them with absolute confidence to the decree, as much as it is tempting to do so. In any case, regardless of their exact date, I argue that the appearance of these unique weights can be explained by Kyzikos’ advantageous position at the interface of the Athenian Aegean and the Black Sea. It seems that the Kyzikenes attempted to facilitate the commercial activity of those who operated in both commercial zones, made landfall in Kyzikos, and needed to be aware of Athenian weight standards. This attempt at facilitation through provision of information was not unique. A copy of the fourth-­century Olbian decree on the exclusive use of Olbian coinage within the city, and state control of exchange, was found at the sanctuary of Hieron at a strategic location on the Bosporos; as I noted above, Olbia, in the northern Black Sea, would have been the final destination of many ships passing through the strait, and like Kyzikos it served as the Greek harbour for a non-­ Greek hinterland.135 In the fourth century, we also know that currency exchange took place at the Bosporos between Athenian owls and Kyzikene staters.136 Cities in the straits would presumably have benefited from making their harbours particularly amenable to sailors through the information and services they could provide: the more traffic passing through, the more taxes to be levied. For Kyzikos, and indeed other communities, interaction with the Athenians and their Aegean commercial networks need not be a zero-­sum game but had the potential to

133  Kroll (2018) 86. 134  Kroll (2018) 89; Kallet and Kroll (2020) 120–1; for the decree see IG I3 1453 = OR 155 with Hatzopoulos (2016) for the publication of a new fragment from Aphytis, included in Osborne and Rhodes’s edition. 135 I.Kalch 16. Robin Osborne suggested to me that the Olbian decree could be a response to the dominance of the Kyzikene electrum staters (which are mentioned in the text): the Olbians, by legislating exclusive use of their own coinage within their city limits, would force exchange between the two coinages, from which they could profit. See also Moreno (2008) for an overview of the evidence for Hieron. Note that the fourth-­century Athenian decrees honouring the Bosporan king Leukon were reported to have been displayed at Hieron (Dem. 20.35–6). Hieron was also an important customs post in later periods, as shown by its inclusion in the Customs Law of Asia: see Cottier at al. (2008) 35, line 23, section 9. 136  Dem. 34.23.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  233 be  mutually beneficial, as for the allied communities with ties to the eastern Mediterranean discussed in Chapter 5.

6.2.3  Achaemenid Satrapal Power at Daskyleion Thus far I have argued that the Athenians participated in and supported activity in the medium of the Kyzikene stater, and that the Kyzikenes themselves may have cooperated with the Athenians. When considering Athenian power and Kyzikene agency, a third agent must be included in the equation: the Achaemenid satrap at Daskyleion. As I emphasized above, Daskyleion and Kyzikos were a mere 30 kilometres apart, and Kyzikos was the satrapal seat’s closest harbour (see Map 7). The evidence for their relationship in the fifth century is difficult, but some conclusions can be drawn. First, when we consider Daskyleion’s position in the region more generally, it becomes apparent that it was still very much integrated, despite the allegiances of coastal communities to Athens. It is not clear exactly when Daskyleion become the seat of the satrap of Hellespontine Phrygia. It was likely in the late sixth century, although some argue that it was only after Xerxes’ defeat in 479.137 Daskyleion has been securely located near the village of Ergili on the south-­eastern shore of Lake Kuş (which in antiquity was named after Daskyleion). It had a strategic location in a naturally defensible position on the lake, surrounded by fertile land; it was on the inland road and river network,138 and close to the coast.139 An enormous terrace wall protected the site further, and, as Elspeth Dusinberre describes, it may have had a fortified acropolis with a less defended lower city, as at the satrapal seat of Sardis in Lydia.140 Daskyleion would also have been situated close to the timber resources of Mount Olympos and its environs. Unlike Kyzikos, systematic excavations have been conducted in recent years. From the sixth century on, and into the fifth century, the archaeological remains show very clearly its integration into the wider region and its connections to Greek cities. Although some features of the site are unmistakeably Achaemenid (for ex­ample, the terrace wall just mentioned, and the possible similarity in layout to Sardis), the two phases of monumental building, from the last quarter of the sixth century and the second quarter of the fifth century respectively, show significant Ionian influence and even the work of Greek craftsmen.141 The first phase included the use of the blue-­veined Prokonnesian marble, for example in an Ionian cyma; the particular style of this moulding links it to contemporary buildings at Miletos and Didyma.142 The second phase also looks distinctly Ionian. 137  For example, Kaptan (2002) 2. 138 Xen. Hell. 4.1.15–16. 139  Erdoğan (2007) 177. 140  Dusinberre (2013) 97. 141  Ateşlier (2001); Erdoğan (2007); Dusinberre (2013) 56–9. 142  Erdoğan (2007) 180.

234  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc These monumental structures would have been a strong statement of Achaemenid power at Daskyleion, a possible response to the weakened Persian position at the end of the Graeco-­Persian Wars. By the end of the fifth century, we hear of Pharnabazos’ palace in the Greek sources; he presumably inherited the buildings attested in the archaeological record.143 The buildings would have positioned Daskyleion as facing towards the Greek world as much as the Achaemenid. Smaller archaeological finds also make clear Daskyleion’s connections with nearby Greek communities during the sixth century and into the fifth century. Tuna-­Norling reports that large amounts of Attic black-­figure and red-­figure pottery have been excavated at the site; there was an increase after the Persian conquest in 546, and then again in the fifth century.144 Attic pottery which reached Daskyleion must have been brought through ports on the Propontis, and Kyzikos is an obvious candidate. Daskyleion on Sea (to borrow Thomas Corsten’s nomenclature; see Map 7) is another; its name certainly suggests that it had links with the satrapal seat.145 We have already seen how Dio Chrysostom describes Prusa’s dependence on Apameia; a similar dynamic can be envisaged here. One of the major finds at Daskyleion, in the south of the site, was a large collection of clay bullae or seals, with stamped images, dating throughout the period of Achaemenid rule.146 They would have been used to seal documents (some have traces of papyrus fibres on the back), indicating the presence of a large archive. Archives are known from elsewhere in Achaemenid empire, for instance the clay tablets from Persepolis, so this certainly was an Achaemenid phenomenon. However, the imagery of the bullae has a large iconographical range and some of them show distinctly Greek artistic features.147 Both at Daskyleion itself and in the region around funerary art made of Prokonnesian marble dating to this period shows a distinctive Anatolian style, a fusion between Greek and Achaemenid artistic practices.148 An example of a stele with a relief in two registers now in the archaeological museum at Bursa encapsulates this well: the higher register shows an Achaemenid-­style procession scene, the lower a more Greek military engagement between horsemen and foot ­soldiers.149 Nollé provides a catalogue of stelai and other architectural members in this style from Daskyleion; a number of them have Aramaic inscriptions.150 The 143 Xen. Hell. 4.1.15–16; Hell. Oxy. 22.3. 144  Tuna-­Norling (2001) 114. 145  Corsten (1988). This Daskyleion appears in the tribute quota lists from 454 onwards (IG I3 259 6 lines 16–17). 146  For a full discussion and catalogue see Kaptan (2002). 147  Kaptan (2002) 170–93. 148 Beyond Daskyleion, the broader elite funerary culture of Anatolia under the Achaemenid Empire shows this cultural interaction, with different configurations in different areas; see Dusinberre (2013) chapter 5 for an overview. Vlassopoulos (2013) analyses this interaction with the heuristic tool of ‘glocalisation’ (see pp. 249–50 for analysis of Daskyleion in particular). 149  This kind of overt violence was not a feature of Achaemenid royal art but was common in the artistic production of Achaemenid Anatolia, a phenomenon John Ma (2008) terms ‘Achaemenid ­military art’. 150  Nollé (1992).

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  235 stelai clearly commemorated individuals of mixed ethnicities, showing the diversity of the imperial elite.151 More elite burial monuments from the fifth century in the area of the Granikos river also show the intersection of Greek and Persian ­models.152 Rose, for example, describes the similarities between the decorated lid of the early classical Polyxena sarcophagus found in the tumulus at Kizoldun (now in the new Troy Museum), and the early classical building at Daskyleion.153 The archaeological evidence—­ the monumental building, smaller objects, funerary art—­suggests cross-­cultural influence and commercial ties between Daskyleion and nearby Greek communities in the fifth century. But what about harder forms of control? Judging by the Greek sources (particularly Herodotus’ extended description of Darios’ organization of the empire), one of the primary duties of the satrap was tribute collection.154 The Achaemenid fiscal system was diverse, with different resources contributed depending on the particular make-­up of the region.155 Revenues would be raised in different ways by the satrap, as made clear by the writer of the fourth-­century pseudo-­Aristotelian Oeconomica: The second level of administration, the satrapal, has six different kinds of ­rev­enue, from the land, from the particular resources of the country, from trade, from taxation, from cattle and from other sources.156

In 413/12, according to Thucydides, Pharnabazos, under pressure from the king and in competition with Tissaphernes, had ambitions to renew the imposition of tribute obligations on Greek communities in the region. Presumably, he had been extracting diverse revenues from the region in the preceding years (as Pseudo-­ Aristotle describes) but had been largely deprived by the Athenians from extracting surplus from the coastal cities. Thucydides reports: Kalligeitos son of Laophon, a Megarian, and Timagoras son of Athenagoros, a Kyzikene, both of them exiles from their country and living at the court of Pharnabazos son of Pharnakes, arrived at Sparta upon a mission from Pharnabazos to procure a fleet for the Hellespont; by means of which, if pos­ sible, he might himself accomplish Tissaphernes’ ambition, and cause the cities in his province to revolt from the Athenians, and thereby receive the tribute from them, and by his own agency obtain for the King the alliance of the Spartans.157

151  Briant (2002) 502. 152  Rose (2017). 153  Rose (2017) 101. 154  Hdt. 3.89–97. 155  As discussed in the previous chapter, the Aršāma dossier provides an insight into Achaemenid revenue production in Egypt: see the three 2020 volumes edited by Ma and Tuplin. 156 [Arist.] Oec. 2.1.4. 157  Thuc. 8.6.1.

236  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc By the early fourth century, Pharnabazos’ push seems to have enjoyed some ­success: Xenophon tells us that a certain Zenis from the coastal city of Dardanos (and, after his death, his wife Mania) administered part of Aeolis for Pharnabazos.158 This position included tribute collection: Mania, Xenophon says, ‘paid the tribute no less scrupulously than her husband’.159 Dardanos and Mania’s position presumably resulted from the instability of the final years of the century, and the reasserted presence of Pharnabazos in coastal areas (although, as Aneurin Ellis-­ Evans notes, there was precedent for Greek tyrants with Achaemenid links in the region).160 However, it is not a foregone conclusion that Daskyleion gave up on extracting tribute from these communities before the final decades of the century, especially from those most peripheral to Athenian power. Certainly, Thucydides’ report implies that Pharnabazos and Tissaphernes were not establishing new claims on Greek communities, but simply taking the opportunity provided in the Ionian War for a large-­scale renewal of established modes of extraction.161 As I have argued throughout this book, one of the key ways in which Athenian power was realized was through tribute contributions. Likewise, Achaemenid power must have been felt through the imposition of tribute.162 Both fiscal systems were flexible, so in such liminal areas as the straits it is entirely possible that communities could simultaneously be under obligation to both the Athenians and the Achaemenids. Scholars have argued for overlapping fiscal claims between the Athenians and the Achaemenids elsewhere in Anatolia.163 Similar evidence can be adduced for the straits. As mentioned above, Themistokles was given Lampsakos by Xerxes, but the community is present in the tribute quota lists by 451/0 at the earliest.164 It is likely that there was a shift of influence some time before 451/0, but it is ­pos­sible that there were overlapping Achaemenid and Athenian claims at some time in the aftermath of the Graeco-­Persian Wars.165 Elsewhere in Anatolia, Themistokles, and subsequently his son, continued to hold Magnesia on the Maeander well into the second half of the century, as attested by some wonderful numismatic survivals.166 Disparities in the lists can possibly be explained through the acknowledgement of the Achaemenid presence in the straits. Astakos, a community on the Asian side of the Propontis near modern-­day Gölcük, which made small tribute contributions, is recorded from 454/3 but seems to disappear after 444/3 (see Map 7).167 The ATL editors and Meiggs explain this by arguing that Astakos was colonized

158 Xen. Hell. 3.1.10–15. 159 Xen. Hell. 3.1.12. 160  Ellis-­Evans (2019) 145–6. 161  Briant (2002) 592. 162  Tuplin (1987) 113. 163  Ionia: Murray (1966); Balcer (1989). Karia: Eddy (1973); Thompson (1981); Hornblower (1982) 25. Isoc. 4.120 notes how Athens levied tribute on the subjects of the king. 164  Thuc. 1.138; IG I3 262.4 line 5. 165  See Balcer (1989) 16–17. 166  Kallet and Kroll (2020) 73–5. 167  For example, IG I3 259.3 line 27 (454/3).

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  237 by the Athenians in 430s.168 A more likely explanation (taking into account, of course, the fragmentary state of the lists, which make all claims of this kind difficult) is that Astakos, peripheral to Athenian influence, made contributions instead to the closer regional power of Daskyleion. Given the difficult evidence, it  is also possible that Astakos contributed at times to both powers, playing both sides. Some of the anomalies discussed in Chapter 2 (concerning negotiation in the Athenian fiscal system) can also be placed in this context. The communities of Bysbikos (on the island of İmralı, now a prison) and Kallipolis (unlocated, but in this region) appear in the lists for the first time in the late 430s, in rubrics indicating special circumstances of tribute assessment (see again Map 7).169 Russell argues that these communities were separated from Byzantion after its revolt.170 Again, Achaemenid influence seems a more likely explanation, particularly given that the rubrics themselves, as discussed in Chapter 2, indicate divided loyalties within the communities themselves. Another community possibly contested by the Athenians and the satrap was Miletopolis, some distance inland up the Rhyndakos river, east of Daskyleion (its necropolis has now been located by a petrol station north of Mustafakemalpaşa; see Map 7). A financial document that has been identified as a fragmentary assessment list preserves the letters Μιλητο-;171 this is restored as ‘Miletoteichitai’ in Inscriptiones Graecae, while the ATL editors prefer ‘Miletopolitai’.172 Miletoteichos is a place named by the Oxyrhyncus historian,173 while Miletopolis is much better attested in the later classical and Hellenistic periods;174 it is unclear whether the two communities should be identified with each other, or whether they were two separate but associated communities in the same region.175 Consequently, I am uncertain about including either restoration in the list. It would have been extraordinary for the Athenians even to attempt to extract tribute from a community so far away from the coast, very much in the satrap’s area of control, in an area otherwise dominated by non-­Greek groups; although the Rhyndakos river, linking Miletopolis to the Propontis, was nav­ig­able, and Miletopolis likely served as an interface between the coast and the Phrygian interior.

168  ATL 3 238; Meiggs (1972) 198. 169  IG I3 278.6 line 12 (Kallipolis), 278.6 line 34 (Bysbikos). 170  Russell (2017) 79. 171  The list is conventionally dated to 410, after the Athenian victory at Kyzikos, on the assumption that tribute collection was restored after the adoption of the universal 5 per cent harbour tax or eikoste; see ATL 1 120, 208; Meiggs (1972) 438. Mattingly (1967b) prefers 418. I am not convinced by arguments for the restoration of tribute in the final stages of the Ionian War, so would place it before 413. But the document is not clearly an assessment list, and merits a fresh examination. 172  IG I3 100.3 line 4; ATL I 520. 173  Hell. Oxy. 25.3. 174  See, for instance, the corpus of inscriptions edited by Schwertheim (1983). 175 Arguments and evidence for both communities summarized by Schwertheim (1983) 95–9; Şahin (2021) 239–44.

238  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc

Figure 6.5  Funerary stele from Miletopolis for Hypermenes, son of Hagnodemos, the Athenian, c.410–400 bc. The stele depicts the deceased with his dog. Bursa Archaeological Museum, photograph and kind permission from Nalan Eda Akyürek Şahin.

But a archaeological find, recently published at the time of writing, at least shows mobility and connectivity between Miletopolis and Athens around the end of the fifth century:176 a very high-­quality Attic-­style funerary stele, depicting a man and a dog, with an inscription recording the deceased as ‘Hypermenes, son of Hagnodemos, the Athenian’ (see Figure  6.5).177 Therefore, Hypermenes, an Athenian, lived and died at Miletopolis, and was wealthy enough (or his family 176  Published by Şahin (2021), who dates the stele to the late fifth century on stylistic grounds. 177  Ὑπερμένης | Ἁγνοδήμο | Ἀθηναῖος.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  239 were wealthy enough) to commemorate his death with a stele in the Attic style, perhaps even importing it from Attica; it is made in non-­local stone, and looks like the work of an Attic craftsman. Perhaps there was a connection between Athens and Miletopolis which persuaded the Athenians that they could try to levy tribute; but, regardless, just as there were less formalized connections between Daskyleion and the Greek cities of the coast, Athenian individuals were among the Greeks who moved freely inland, very much in the world of the satrap.

6.2.4  Daskyleion and Kyzikos Let us return to Kyzikos. I have argued that the archaeological record shows that Daskyleion was integrated with Greek communities in the wider region in the sixth century, and that this continued into the fifth century. Daskyleion was not cut off from nearby Greek communities with the rise of Athenian power, even if it could not levy tribute from them to the same extent. It may be the case, however, that Achaemenid and Athenian fiscal claims overlapped in some communities. Kyzikos, as the closest major Greek city and its best access to the straits, must have been an important part of Daskyleion’s integration. The literary sources, despite their limitations, imply a close relationship between the two cities. According to Herodotus, after the Ionian revolt in the early fifth century, Kyzikos was better treated than other communities involved, as it came to an agreement with the satrap at Daskyleion, Oibares.178 Plutarch, filling in details left out by Thucydides, reports that Pharnabazos provided support for Kyzikos’ revolt after the Sicilian disaster of 413 bc.179 Thucydides does, however, imply political division at Kyzikos—­possibly with an anti-­Athenian faction supported by Pharnabazos—­in his description of the ambassadors sent by Pharnabazos to Sparta quoted above: Timagoras is explicitly said to be Kyzikene.180 When Kyzikos bounced back and forth between Athenian and Spartan/Achaemenid control in the Ionian War, it often performed a kind of transitional function; for instance, in 408 Kyzikos was chosen as the middle point for Pharnabazos to meet envoys from Alkibiades.181 On two occasions, the sources describe how the Athenians levied money from Kyzikos in this tumultuous period; one wonders whether this was considered unpaid eikoste and whether Kyzikos had been directing its contributions to Daskyleion (or the Peloponnesians) in the interim.182 Later, in 395 bc, it would once again be a Kyzikene, Apollophanes, the proxenos of both Pharnabazos and the Spartan king Agesilaos, who would broker a meeting between the two.183

178  Hdt. 6.33. 179 Plut. Alc. 24; Thuc. 8.107. 180  Thuc. 8.6. 181 Xen. Hell. 1.3.13. 182  Thuc. 8.107; Xen. Hell. 1.1.20. 183 Xen. Hell. 4.1.29.

240  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Beyond this, the current state of the evidence allows little analysis of the relationship between Daskyleion and Kyzikos more generally, or—­returning to my initial focus—­its electrum staters. The ongoing excavations at Daskyleion may yet yield more clues. But it is worth noting that our understanding of Achaemenid coinage, and the relationship between civic coinages in Asia Minor and Achaemenid control, is far from complete. It is not clear whether Daskyleion had a mint of its own.184 Is it possible that there was active Achaemenid support for the mint at Kyzikos, or even that we can view the electrum staters as some kind of surrogate Achaemenid issue (at least at some points in the history of its production)? Selene Psoma, for one, argues that the Kyzikene staters were minted ‘for the currency needs of others’, including the Achaemenids.185 This is a phenomenon identified in later periods, when certain ‘civic’ issues have been viewed as surrogate coinages of Hellenistic kingdoms or Rome, that is to say coinages produced in cities with iconography and inscriptions linking them to those cities, but under the auspices of an supra-­civic power.186 Indeed, it seems possible that Kyzikos’ own second-­century bc production of wreathed tetradrachms was due to Attalid influence or intervention.187 It is increasingly apparent that the Achaemenids also regularly made use of civic mints, both to produce coins with civic types and with satrapal iconography. De Callataÿ has argued that coinages minted by communities in southern Anatolia in the fifth century must have been Achaemenid issues, due to the scale of production and the level of regional coordination.188 Ellis-­Evans has identified Achaemenid intervention (via Greek elites acting on behalf of the satrap) in the fourth-­century Troad.189 Satraps, including Pharnabazos and Tissaphernes, are known to have struck issues at a number of different cities.190 Certainly, the production of the Kyzikene staters began in the sixth century during the time of Achaemenid control of Kyzikos and ended with Alexander’s destruction of the Achaemenid empire. Picard has suggested that the metal used for the production of the coins could have come from Achaemenid mines, a pos­ sible solution to the problem of where Kyzikos could have accessed such extensive 184  Carradice (1987) 84–5 has shown that it is possible that there was more than one Achaemenid mint producing sigloi, so production may have happened in another unknown location in addition to Sardis. Further, Ute Wartenberg is currently working on a study of a very large fifth-­century coinage traditionally attributed to Sinope, which she argues may have been minted at Daskyleion. 185  Psoma (2020) 699. 186  For example, Psoma (2013), De Callataÿ (2013) for the Attalid kingdom; De Callataÿ (2011) for Rome in late Hellenistic Anatolia. 187  Psoma (2013) posits that wreathed tetradrachms produced by a number of different civic mints were Attalid issues for use in Seleucid military campaigns, due to their presence in a number of eastern Anatolian hoards, but this explanation cannot be applied in the case of the Kyzikene tetradrachms, as they mostly circulated locally (see Meadows and Houghton (2010) 179–80). It seems more likely, given the close relationship attested between Kyzikos and Pergamon (see Psoma (2013) 285–6), that the Attalids made use of the Kyzikene wreathed tetradrachms to fund their war with the Bithynian king. 188  In a forthcoming chapter arising from a conference in Krakow. 189  Ellis-­Evans (2018). 190  See Psoma (2020) 699–700.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  241 metal resources.191 Achaemenid intervention or support would also explain the huge scale of production. And, in fact, explicit evidence from the early fourth century shows that Daskyleion was aware of the potential of the Kyzikene mint. Pharnabazos minted silver tetradrachms at Kyzikos, which bear his own portrait, his name in Greek, and the tuna fish.192 In exceptional circumstances, with no mints of his own (this brief issue presumably was for military expenditure), Pharnabazos utilized the facilities at Kyzikos. Did the satrap also make use of the mint at an earlier date?193 At the very least, we can propose that the Achaemenids, like the Athenians, would have likely engaged in economic activity or taxation conducted through the medium of the Kyzikene stater. In summary, we cannot draw a more complete picture without further study. More extensive excavations at Kyzikos and the final results of De Callataÿ’s die study would be welcome. But consideration of the (sometimes slight and difficult) evidence has begun to illuminate the liminal position that Kyzikos—­and other communities in the region—­occupied between the Aegean and the Black Sea, and between Athenian and Achaemenid satrapal power. I have argued that the unique circulation of the Kyzikene electrum staters can attest to the dynamic whereby the Athenians made use of allied communities better integrated into the Black Sea networks beyond their control to profit through extraction of surplus, skimming at the highest level of the food chain, tribute. The circulation of Kyzikene staters in the Black Sea (where they were highly valued, not least for their value in non-­monetary terms) and back to the straits aided significant Athenian extraction from many communities in this liminal area between the two commercial zones. Other communities on the straits, although they may have competed with Kyzikos in their exploitation of the passing traffic, may have also benefited from Kyzikene numismatic production. Byzantion, for instance, despite its huge economic potential (as indicated by its contributions in the lists) never minted its own coinage in the fifth century; it was presumably making use of the Kyzikene staters, at least in part. In the interaction between Kyzikos and the Athenians, the presence of Daskyleion cannot be discounted, given its proximity, but the evidence for the exact nature of the relationship between Kyzikos and Daskyleion, and the production of its coins, is slight. It is tempting to posit that the Achaemenids supported or even initiated the production of the staters, especially given the apparent lack of a mint at Daskyleion, but further evidence is required to draw this conclusion. More concretely, we can see from various forms of archaeological evidence that Daskyleion maintained commercial and cultural ties with Greek 191  Picard (2011) 90. 192  Maffre (2004). 193  In a forthcoming contribution, Ellis-­Evans and I will argue that Kyzikos, along with nearby Lampsakos and Abydos, produced coinage to pay for the fleet used in Xerxes’ invasion of Greece in 480 bc.

242  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc communities on the straits in the fifth century, and possibly continued to assert fiscal responsibilities, creating overlapping Athenian and Achaemenid claims. The Persians probably also made use of the Kyzikene stater and extracted surplus in this medium, but this too must remain speculation. If the Achaemenids and Athenians both made use of the coinage, and both profited from Kyzikos (either through tribute or, in the case of Daskyleion, through its harbour) it is possible that their interests in the straits were not always in competition, but sometimes fell into alignment. Alongside Athenian and Achaemenid power, we must also take into account Kyzikene agency. Despite the imposition of fiscal responsibilities, the presence of these greater powers created opportunities for this strategically located community. It is possible that the Kyzikenes were aware of this, and even attempted to facilitate Athenian participation. Scholars often point out the increasing dominance of the Athenian owl tetradrachm in the fifth century, and the corresponding decline in other silver coinages.194 This was arguably a natural consequence of Athenian power in the Aegean. Additionally, whether or not their decree had actual efficacy, at some time the Athenians tried to impose the use of their silver coinage, weights, and measures on their allies.195 The orthodox explanation of twentieth-­century scholarship for this ‘Standards decree’ is an ideological or political one, that it was a measure of control without practical intent.196 Lisa Kallet has added nuance to this narrative, arguing that the decree would have had economic as well as pol­it­ ical impact, by linking the decree to the new requirements of implementing the 5 per cent tax or eikoste in 413.197 The example of the Kyzikene electrum stater supports Kallet’s assertion that the decree had at least a partially functional mo­tiv­ ation: it shows that Athenian decisions regarding the use of coinage were often practical, not simply ideological. The Athenians were opportunistic and adaptive to local circumstances; they made no attempt to supplant the electrum stater, the success of which predated their Aegean supremacy, but were very much aware of its commercial potential. In this liminal region of overlapping claims, their primary aim was to profit.

6.3  Athenian Taxation in the Straits Thus far, I have analysed how the Athenians were not at all interventionist in their approach to extraction in the straits, allowing allied communities more

194  For example, Figueira (1998). 195  IG I3 1453 = OR 155. 196  For example, Meiggs (1972) 173: ‘by a series of bold decisions [Athens] made it abundantly clear that henceforward she would rule an empire’. 197  Kallet (2001) 205–17; Kallet and Kroll (2020) 111–19, 142–5.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  243 experienced in exploitation to profit from the passing commercial traffic, before skimming off the surplus through tribute (often in the medium of the Kyzikene electrum stater). With this background in mind, and the Athenian employment of similarly laissez-­faire fiscal strategies in other regions, it noteworthy that the Athenians themselves appear to have collected a tax or taxes on mobility in the straits. The evidence for this tax has been much discussed elsewhere (most recently in Thom Russell’s comprehensive study), but a brief survey is nonetheless necessary, as its significance is much contested. Throughout history, various parties realized the potential for taxation at the straits.198 As Russell persuasively argues, there was in all likelihood precedent for the Athenians for the collection of a tax on mobility at the Bosporos by a supra-­ local power. Histiaios, the Milesian tyrant, is described by Herodotus as seizing ships at the Bosporos in his short period of supremacy there.199 Was he extorting money or enforcing a toll; and when the Spartan Pausanias took up residence there (as mentioned above), was he doing the same?200 Dionysios of Byzantion, a historian of the second century ad, who may have had access to local knowledge, claims that the Persians had already levied a tax at the straits even earlier than this.201 Taxes on mobility were also levied, of course, by the Greek communities on the straits.202 The primary literary evidence for an Athenian tax comes from Xenophon’s Hellenica. As mentioned above (section 6.1.2), Xenophon describes how Alkibiades capitalized on the improved Athenian position in the region in 410 to establish a toll station at Chrysopolis, in the territory of Kalchedon (see Map 7): From there they proceeded to Chrysopolis, in Kalchedon, and fortified it, establishing a customs house in the city, and proceeded to collect the 10 per cent tax (dekate) from vessels sailing out of the Pontos . . .203

Dionysius of Byzantion identifies Chrysopolis as the site of the earlier Persian customs house.204 It was strategically located, for, as Polybius describes, the ­currents in the straits forced ships on the Asian side at Kalchedon to sail to Chrysopolis before crossing over to Byzantion.205 Chrysopolis is also mentioned in a fragmentary Athenian inscription of the late fifth century; unfortunately, the  state of the text allows no further analysis.206 Gabrielsen emphasizes that Byzantion was in revolt at the time of Alkibiades’ tax; he argues that the Athenians had previously possessed a toll station at Byzantion, and were setting up a 198  See, for example, Rubel (2009). 199  Hdt. 6.5, 26. 200  Russell (2017) 57. 201  Dion.Byz. 109. 202  See again the late archaic honorific decree from Kyzikos, which lists various kinds of taxation on mobility: Effenterre and Ruzé (1994) no. 1.32. 203 Xen. Hell. 1.1.22. Translation by Brownson (Loeb). 204  Dion.Byz. 109. 205  Polyb. 4.44; Russell (2017) 81. 206  IG I3 108 line 7.

244  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc competing tax.207 He notes that later, in 398, Thrasyboulos, when attempting to restore Athenian power, chose to levy the dekate (10 per cent tax) at Byzantion:208 Then, with this matter successfully arranged, and the cities in Asia in a ­favourable attitude on account of the King’s being a friend of the Athenians, he sailed to Byzantion and farmed out the 10 per cent tax (dekate) on vessels sailing out of the Pontos.209

The sale of the collection rights for the Bosporan dekate in the fourth century is also mentioned by Demosthenes.210 Evidence for taxation in the straits at an earlier time may be provided by the epigraphic record. An obscure measure of the second Athenian decree for the North Aegean community of Methone (dated to 426/5; see Figure 4.2) has been much debated in this connection: The Methoneans are to be permitted to export grain from Byzantion up to — thousand medimnoi each year, and the guardians of the Hellespont (Hellespontophylakes) are not to prevent them from exporting or allow anybody else to prevent them, or else are to be fined ten thousand drachmas each. The Methoneans, having written to the guardians of the Hellespont, may export up to the limit fixed; and the ship exporting is to be exempt (ἀζέμιος) also.211

A similar measure is found in the first decree for nearby Aphytis, usually also dated to the first half of the 420s: The Aphytaians are to take charge of up to 10000 medimnoi. The price is to be the same for them as for the Methoneans.212

As I described above in section 6.2.1, scholars have made wide-­ranging arguments about Athenian control of grain and traffic at the straits on the basis of these tantalizing but obscure details. Gabrielsen argues that the Athenians made Byzantion a central entrepot for commodities, particularly grain.213 Finley, moving from these decrees to the Old Oligarch, argues that the Hellespontophylakes 207  Gabrielsen (2007) 294. 208  See Cawkwell (1976). 209 Xen. Hell. 4.8.27. Translation by Brownson (Loeb). 210  Dem. 20.60. 211  IG I3 61 = OR 150 lines 34–41: Μ[εθοναί]-|[οις] εἶν[αι ἐχ]σα[γο]γὲν ἐγ Βυζαντίο σίτο μέχ[ρι . . . . α]-|κισχ]ιλίον μεδίμνον τ͂ο ἐνιαυτ͂ο ἑκάστο, ℎοι [δὲ ἑλλε]-|[σπ]οντοφύλακες μέτε αὐτοὶ κολυόντον ἐχσάγεν μ[έτ]-|[ε ἄλ]λον ἐόντον κολύεν, ἒ εὐθυνέσθον μυρίαισι δρ[αχ]-|[μ͂εισ]ιν ἕκαστος· γραφσαμένος δὲ πρὸς τὸς ἑλλεσπ[ον]-|[το]φύλακας ἐχσάγε[ν] μέχρι τ͂ο τεταγμένο· ἀζέμιος [δὲ] | [ἔσ]το καὶ ἑ ναῦς ἑ ἐχσάγοσα. 212  IG I3 62 lines 3–5: περὶ δ̣ὲ̣ τ[․․․.․․․]ε̣ο̣[․․․]ι Ἀφυ[ταίος ἐπιμέ]-|[λ]εσθαι μέχρι μυρίων μεδίμνω[ν· ἡ δὲ τιμ]ὴ ἔστω αὐτο[ῖς καθάπερ Μ]-|[ε]θωναίοις· 213  Gabrielsen (2007) 291.

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  245 were the ‘capstone of the structure, an organisation designed to bring about a closed sea’.214 The evidence is simply not sufficient to make these arguments. But what can we positively take from the decrees? Judging by the second Methone decree, there does appear to have been mech­ an­ism for grain exportation from Byzantion, which the Athenians controlled, although we cannot argue for Byzantion’s status as an entrepot, nor for the Athenian prevention of others’ import of grain from the straits or the Black Sea. This stockpile appears to be connected to Athenian officials called the Hellespontophylakes. The Hellespontine geographic designation, as in the lists, may refer to the straits more generally, so these officials could have been stationed at the Bosporos, but we cannot be sure of their location. Aristophanes does refer to guards—­phrouroi—­at Byzantion.215 The exact duties of the Hellespontophylakes are obscure, but they are connected to the grain and perhaps also to some kind of military function (given their name). Rubel argues, on the basis of the adjective ἀζέμιος, that they also enforced a tax; his interpretation of the term, however, is controversial.216 We can certainly see a formal Athenian presence on the straits, with specialized magistrates appointed to fulfil a particular function. Another possible piece of the puzzle is a reference in an Athenian financial decree to a mysterious dekate. Two decrees on the same stone, the first proposed by Kallias, have been the subject of scholarly controversy for a variety of reasons, with debate over their date or dates and their relationship to each other.217 They are conventionally both dated around 434, as in Osborne and Rhodes, but Kallet-­ Marx has made the case for separating the two decrees and placing the earlier in 431.218 In any case, the first decree appears to date before the Archidamian War. In the course of measures reorganizing and consolidating sacred funds and restricting expenditure, there is a reference to ‘the proceeds of the dekate whenever the collection of that is sold’.219 As we saw above, Thrasyboulos’ dekate at Byzantion was sold out to tax farmers. Mattingly, for one, equated the dekate of Kallias’ decree with Alkibiades’ tax, although he subsequently changed his view.220 This dekate is perhaps unidentifiable (surely other taxes were also at a 10 per cent rate), but it is certainly a tempting connection to make. What can we do with these disparate pieces of evidence? Ober, for one, believes that the dekate was issued only temporarily at the end of the fifth century.221 I believe that it is possible that the tax was enforced earlier; we can see, at the very least, a formal Athenian presence at the straits during the Archidamian War with the Hellespontophylakes and their control over the movement of certain goods. Regarding Alkibiades’ dekate, other details remain obscure, such as which ships 214  Finley (1981) 55. 215 Ar. Vesp. 235–7 with Moreno (2007) 166. 216  See Rubel (2001), followed by Russell (2017) and Osborne and Rhodes (2017). 217  IG I3 52 = OR 144. 218  Kallet-­Marx (1989b). 219  IG I3 52 = OR 144 line 7: τὰ ἐκ τ͂ες δεκάτες ἐπειδὰν πραθ͂ει. 220  Mattingly (1996) 240. 221  Ober (2015) 509.

246  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc the Athenians were taxing. Did the Athenians impose taxes on Achaemenid vessels sailing through the straits to and from Daskyleion? Nonetheless, this testimony is enough for us to understand the versatility of the Athenian approach to resource extraction. Where it was easier and more efficient to allow others to do the extraction, they did so, and they profited through tribute. Where the opportunity existed, and the precedent was set, the Athenians undertook the extraction themselves. We saw this in the North Aegean (in Chapter 4), where they both seized direct control of certain resources, depriving the Thasians of particular mines, and profited from significant tribute contributions from communities including Thasos. A similar approach was taken to tax­ ation in the straits. In this fragmented, competitive landscape, with its particular geographic ­circumstances, where the opportunities for taxation on mobility were numerous, it made sense for the Athenians to diversify, extracting surplus from allies but also moving further down the food chain to ensure a more direct source of rev­ enue, particularly in the instability of the Ionian War, and perhaps also in the Archidamian War. It needs to be emphasized again that in general the Athenians did not directly administer taxation in the Aegean. Tribute, and its successor, the eikoste, depended on allied communities maintaining their own fiscal infrastructure: the tax in the straits was unique.

6.3.1  The Decrees for Aphytis Explained As a final point, it is worth noting that this understanding of the Athenian presence in the straits illuminates not only the first decree for Aphytis, but also the second, an obscure document which, to my knowledge, is hardly analysed in scholarship. Interpreting these two decrees as a series of related measures aids our understanding of Athenian approaches to extraction, as well as of their use of their fiscal system and economic power in negotiation with allied communities. The context of the negotiations between the Athenians and the Aphytaians was laid out in Chapter 4 (see also Maps 1 and 2). The final lines of the decree are highly fragmentary: To bring from wherever they wish . . . to the one wishing to sail to Athens . . .  money with inviolability and without agreement . . . to bring also grain according to the decrees voted by the demos . . . the tolls which the demos of the Athenians might vote. If anyone hinders the Aphytaians from sailing to Athens, let him pay 10000 drachmas.222 222 IG I3 63 lines 10–19 (note that I have chosen not to translate some of the less substantiated r­ estorations in the corpus edition): μ[ὲ κολύεν δὲ Ἀθεναίον μεδὲ χσυ]-|μμάχον τ͂ον Ἀθεναίον [μεδένα Ἀφυταίος χρέματα ἄ]-|[γ]ε̣ν ὁπόθεν ἂν βόλοντ[αι, ἀλλ’ ἐχσ͂εναι Ἀφυταίον τ]-|͂οι βολομένοι πλ͂εν Ἀθ[έναζε

Athenian Power between the Aegean and the Black Sea  247 The exact phrasing cannot be recovered, but it is clearly unusual, particularly the  use of the formula ‘with inviolability and without agreement’ (ἀσυλεὶ καὶ ἀσ[πονδεί]) which is never found in Athenian documents but becomes a formulaic part of honorific documents in other regions in later periods. Nonetheless, the implications of the decree are clear. The Aphytaians were granted privileges at the harbour of the Piraeus, possibly including grain imports and special taxation status, if we interpret τέλε in this way.223 Literary evidence from later in the fifth century—­the Old Oligarch, Aristophanes, Andokides—­points to a tax on imports and exports at the Piraeus;224 it is also implied in the decree which honours the individuals Antiochides and Phanosthenes for their help in securing timber resources, discussed in Chapter 4.225 In the fourth century, a 2 per cent tax, the percentage recorded by Andokides in 402/1, is mentioned by Demosthenes.226 Together, the two decrees for Aphytis present a coherent, complementary package of privileges, with the Athenians providing ships from Aphytis exemption from taxation or favourable import status at both the Piraeus and the Bosporos. We can see clearly the distinctiveness of Athenian fiscal strategy at the Bosporos; it compared only to that employed in the Athenians’ home port. The Athenians were opportunistic in exploiting the potential for taxation or control of goods at the straits, and then opportunistic in integrating this into their ne­go­ti­ ation strategy. Just as the Athenians allowed negotiation over levels of tribute, they also made use of negotiation over other aspects of their economic power.

6.4 Conclusion In this chapter, I have argued that the Athenians were pragmatic in their intervention or lack thereof in their exploitation in the Bosporan and Hellespontine straits and the Propontic sea. The uniquely fragmented and competitive geography allowed the Athenians to skim surplus from numerous allied communities better integrated into Black Sea networks—­a dynamic attested in the material record through the circulation of the Kyzikene electrum staters—­and into inland areas not dominated by Greek poleis. Simultaneously, however, the Athenians asserted their own fiscal claims directly. Their interests overlapped and sometimes aligned with those of allied communities, and also of the Achaemenid satrap. The Athenian approach to coinage and its use, like its approach to fiscal exploitation, καὶ ἄγεν Ἀθεναίοις χ]-|ρέματα ἀσυλεὶ καὶ ἀσ[πονδεί. τὸς δὲ βολομένος α]-|ὐτ͂ον ἄγεν καὶ σῖτον κ[ατὰ τὰ φσεφίσματα τὰ ἐφσε]-|φισμένα τ͂οι δέμοι κ[αὶ ἐσεμπορεύεσθαι τελ͂οντ]-|ας τὰ τέλε, ℎὰ ἂν φσε[φίσεται ὁ δ͂εμος ὁ Ἀθεναίον. ἐ]-­|ὰν δέ τις ἀπο[κ]ο[λύει Ἀφυταίος πλ͂εν Ἀθέναζε, ὀφελέτ]-|ο μυρ[ίας δραχμὰς]. 223  Compare this honour recorded in a fourth-­century proxeny decree, IG II2 287 lines 4–6: τ[ὰς] εἰσφορὰς εἰσφέρειν καὶ τὰ τέλη τελεῖν καθάπερ Ἀθηναῖοι (‘to contribute the eisphora and pay the taxes as the Athenians’). 224 [Xen.] Ath. Pol. 1.17; Ar. Vesp. 658; Andoc. 1.133–4; Fawcett (2016) 159–60. 225  IG I3 182. 226  Andoc. 1.133; Dem. 35.29.

248  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc was not primarily motivated by ideology nor by the imposition of control, but by pragmatism. The overall approach adopted by the Athenians in the straits was similar to that applied in the other regions examined in this book. The key benefits of the tribute system included its resource-­light appropriation of pre-­existing or local fiscal structures, and its consequent ability to exploit networks beyond the scope of Athenian power. Allied communities located at the interface of different extra-­ Aegean zones (Thrace, the eastern Mediterranean, the Black Sea), and better integrated into their networks, therefore served similar functions for the Athenians across the empire. This resource-­light approach depended on the maintained exploitation and fiscality of allied communities; the interests of the Athenians and of prominent allied communities (Thasos, Kyzikos, Rhodes) thus often fell into alignment. Likewise, as we saw most clearly vis-­à-­vis the eastern Mediterranean, but also in the straits, the Athenians benefited from the same connectivity and mobility that served the Achaemenids. But the Athenians were also aware of localized opportunities for exploitation, and the need to adapt their strategies—­sometimes negotiation, sometimes intervention—­to geopolitical demands (different allied communities, different non-­ Greek polities) and to the particular regional landscape at hand. Their more direct approaches, like the confiscation of mines, or the implementation of taxation, often seem to have been guided by pre-­existing precedent set by others, who were more experienced in the region in question. By the end of the century, moreover, they began systematically to cultivate relationships with powerful individuals beyond the scope of both the empire and the polis system, where the opportunity presented. All in all, Athenian power looked similar, but not quite the same, in different regional contexts. It was mostly hands-­off, it encouraged compliance and col­lab­ or­ation through negotiation, and it followed local precedent. But it was also rapacious when the opportunity arose. The empire was a tessellation of overlapping but differentiated manifestations.

  Conclusion Revolt and Ruddle on Fourth-­Century Keos

In the course of this monograph, I have travelled from the Athenian assembly to the necropolis of Miletopolis, from the walls of Potidaia to the Dionysia festival of Rhodes; and from political and economic negotiations between the Athenians and their allies, to the individuals that conducted them, to their religious and cultural contexts, to the landscapes that informed the Athenians’ approaches and modes of exploitation. Before I conclude, a brief diversion to fourth-­century Keos will help me to take stock. The cities of Keos, an island in the Kyklades close to Attica, paid tribute as a collective in the fifth century (see Map 1).1 But it is comparative evidence from their time (or not, as the case may be) in the fourth-­century confederacy, which they joined as individual cities, that provides me with apt means of summarizing the diverse threads of my argument, as well as providing some salutary warnings as to their limitations.2 I wish to consider two inscriptions. The first is an Athenian decree dating to 363/2, found at Athens, concerning the community of Iulis, which reintegrated the Iulietans back into the confederacy after a revolt. Some of the inter-polis stasis and violence which formed the background to the revolt is outlined in the text.3 There is also a reference to another Keian city, Karthaia, suggesting that the disruption encompassed much of the island.4 Disloyalty to Athens, of course, is familiar to us from the fifth century, both from the epigraphic record and Thucydides, so this is nothing new. But the decree for Iulis provides especially evocative evidence for the failure of the polis-level negotiations, of the personal networks that supported them, and of the Athenian attempt to assert their power through epigraphic culture. Iulietan rebels, we are told, overturned the stelai detailing their treaty with the Athenians,5 a clear rejection of this past negotiation and its epigraphic manifestation, and killed friends of the

1  First attested in 451/0 bc (IG I3 262.5 line 22). 2  For the Keian cities membership in the confederacy, see IG II2 43 = RO 22 A.1 line 82 for Poiessa, B lines 119–122 for the other three cities. Note that Poiessa, for which there is no evidence for later revolt, is listed separately, while the other cities are recorded together and labelled as Keian. 3  IG II2 111 = RO 39. 4  Line 23. 5  Lines 31–2.

Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc. Leah Lazar, Oxford University Press. © Leah Lazar 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198896265.003.0008

250  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc Athenians in the city.6 An Athenian proxenos was even murdered.7 The association of the Athenians’ polis­-level negotiations with the underlying elite networks, and the limited efficacy of both, could not be clearer. The second document provides more unusual insights. Found at Athens, it gives the final few lines of a decree of Karthaia, before preserving more fully decrees of Koresia and Iulis.8 Their exact dates are not clear, but they should be placed around the middle of the fourth century. All three decrees pass co­ord­in­ ated measures prompted by the Athenians (albeit with slightly different details), laying down an Athenian monopoly on the export of Kean ruddle or ochre, a mineral with various uses, including in ship building.9 Exacting legal measures provide for sole Athenian control of the resource.10 Evidently, we do not have this quality of evidence—­allied decrees concerning relations with Athens, found at Athens—­for the fifth century. If only! The decrees attest to an act of rapacious exploitation of a particular resource on the part of the Athenians, comparable to their confiscation of Thasos’ mine or their imposition of taxation at the Bosporos; and the exploitation may be seen in an even more avaricious light, given that the uses of the ochre were limited, and a monopoly was probably not strictly necessary for the Athenians. Still, the local geopolitical (the relationships with and between the cities, and with and between their elites) and ecological contexts no doubt informed this targeted exploitation, as it did elsewhere. Purportedly at least, these documents provide the allied perspective entirely lacking from the fifth-­century record; but it is hard to see how the complete Athenian monopoly of ruddle would benefit Keos. So how then did the Athenians push the measure through the Kean cities’ assemblies? The Athenians may have relied on the influence of their local supporters, the presence of whom is attested at Iulis in the previous text. In these Kean decrees, the speech of Athenian ambassadors is referred to;11 and in all three cities they were invited to hospitality in the council house, a typical feature of honorific diplomacy.12 The cities’ use of Athenian-­style democratic decrees, moreover, shows Athens’s cultural influence on the island, perhaps encouraged by prominent, democratically minded Kean individuals. Perhaps there was also support for the Athenians among the populace, aided by ideological identification. There may have been more back and forth, more reciprocity, more promises made on the part of the Athenians than the composers of these documents saw fit to represent, leading to the agreement of the assemblies. It is possible that such persuasion of the assembly may have allowed the Athenians to bypass the influence or opposition of unfriendly elites, to which the Athenian decree concerning Iulis attests; indeed, the Athenians were 6  Lines 33–4. 7  Lines 39–40. 8  IG II2 1128 = RO 40. 9  See Theophr. On Stones 8.51–5 with particular reference to Keos at 8.52. 11  Lines 9; 25. 12  Lines 5–6; 24; 34.

10  Lines 16–21.

Conclusion: Revolt and Ruddle on Fourth-Century Keos  251 said by Thucydides to attempt to communicate directly with the assembly at Melos in 416 bc.13 It is also notable that we have separate decrees, showing that the Athenians interacted with each community individually. Equally likely, however, is that the elites and the people of Keos had been given no choice. The dynamic underlying these decrees may well have included (the threat of) violence on the part of the Athenians. If these decrees post-­date the first document, the cities of Keos would have been familiar with Athenian force and may not have had much, if any, persuasive clout. Unlike the primary regions considered in this monograph, Keos was very close to Attica and thus to the Athenian fleet (see again Map 1). Maybe, then, these were not negotiation processes with any reciprocity, but cold, hard coercion on the part of the Athenians, disguised by a veneer of democratic compliance. The role of the local assemblies could give an impression of legality and acquiescence, especially to an Athenian audience, a fiction perhaps all the more necessary given the more collaborative presentation of the Second Confederacy.14 The Athenians, notably, chose to inscribe and display these texts at Athens. The argumentative themes of the monograph, then, come together in this illuminating comparative case from the fourth century: polis-level negotiations, conducted by the Athenians on a bilateral basis with individual communities, a network of influential individuals, the use of honorific diplomacy, the complex role of democratic ideology and practice, the assertion of power through monumental inscription, and localized and targeted Athenian exploitation where opportunity presented. To recap, in the first chapter, I argued that Athenian decrees concerning relations with allied communities retain traces of the underlying polis-level ne­go­ti­ations. Interactions between Athens and communities in the empire were often bilateral, flexible, open to dialogue to varying degrees, and reliant on a network of mobile, predominantly elite, individuals. But the Athenians increasingly limited opportunities for negotiation in the final decades of the century, demarcating interactions with allies within the parameters of honorific diplomacy. In the second chapter, I turned to the Athenian tribute system, which I argued was inherently flexible and formed of bilateral interactions. I suggested that the Athenians, as with other forms of negotiation, increasingly regulated their fiscal interactions, especially during the financial pressures of the Peloponnesian War. This regulation coincided with a concern about the (corrupt or inept) behaviour

13  Thuc. 5.84.3. 14  Compare Yannis Varoufakis’s presentation of the European Union’s coercion of the Greek parliament: ‘A few months later, at a conference in Italy, Jens Spahn, Wolfgang Schäuble’s deputy, rep­rim­and­ed me for saying that the third bailout was an example of latter-­day gunboat diplomacy. “But your parliament voted in favour of it with a large majority, didn’t it?” he pointed out. Sure it did, I replied. Except that consent without the freedom to say no is a form of slavery.’ (Varoufakis (2017) 478–9.)

252  Athenian Power in the Fifth Century bc of individuals, evident in both Old Comedy and the epigraphic record. Finally, the Athenians scrapped tribute altogether, in favour of a much less flexible ­harbour tax, an action which also limited the agency of individuals. In the third chapter, I considered the individual mobility which underlay these community-­level political and fiscal interactions, and the religious and cultural contexts of the negotiations. I argued that the diverse experiences of allied individuals at Athenian festivals would have impacted how they interacted with the Athenians, and the reception of Athenian democratic political and religious culture in their home communities. In the second half of the book, I moved away from centralized focus on Athens, and compared Athenian power in different regional contexts. The fourth chapter looked at Athenian power in the North Aegean. I explored how Athenian ne­go­ti­ation adapted to the demands of different kinds of polity and individual both within and beyond the empire, and I argued that the Athenians engaged in a dynamic of mutual adaptation and competition with the powerful island polis of Thasos. Although their exploitation was predominantly hands-­off, the Athenians also took the opportunities for direct intervention in this resource-­rich region. The fifth chapter moved to the island of Rhodes in the south-­eastern Aegean, and its position at the interface of the Athenian Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean. I laid out the varied strategies employed by the Athenians to exploit the eastern Mediterranean, a region beyond their primary sphere of control, including but not limited to utilizing allied communities such as Rhodes, better integrated into long-­ standing and lucrative commercial networks. Consideration of Rhodes in its Aegean context also allowed me to dissect the overlap between its regional influence and Athenian power, a dynamic which elicited both Athenian toleration and intervention, and both Rhodian emulation and resistance. Finally, in the sixth chapter, I turned to Athenian power in the straits between the Aegean and the Black Sea, the allied community of Kyzikos with its unusual numismatic production, and the overlapping interests of Athens, Kyzikos, and the Achaemenid Persian satrap at Daskyleion. Once again, the Athenians used a peripheral allied community to exploit a commercial zone beyond its control, a dynamic made tangible in this case through the circulation of Kyzikene coinage. But the Athenians also intervened directly, imposing a tax themselves at the Bosporos. In my comparative analysis, strategies repeated themselves across regions: the maximization of profit through the hands-­off exploitation of the tribute system, opportunistic direct intervention, Athenian bilateral interaction with individual communities rather than collectives, and the use of honorific diplomacy to negotiate with powerful individuals beyond the empire, sometimes beyond the polis system. But these strategies also took on localized forms.

Conclusion: Revolt and Ruddle on Fourth-Century Keos  253 Athenian power, I argued overall, was flexible and open to dialogue, in Athenian contexts and in allied communities. But, returning to my focus here, the case of revolt and ruddle on fourth-­century Keos provides an important caveat. We can see that negotiation did not always work, that the Athenians’ relationships with allied individuals had limitations, and, most of all, as Thucydides knew very well, that the Athenians did not necessarily feel the need to negotiate at all. The Athenians used negotiation and hands-­off approaches to extraction when such strategies served them well, but they always existed alongside direct rapacity and violence. The empire I present, then, was violent but also negotiated, dependent on dialogue at the level of the community and the individual, and supported by a largely hands-­off approach to resource extraction, except where circumstances allowed for targeted exploitation. While it relied on local knowledge and adaptation, its overall approach was consistent: it was formed of a tessellation of overlapping regional manifestations. In this monograph, I hope to have rediscovered and illuminated aspects of the empire’s strangeness. But I also hope to have demonstrated that there is much still to rediscover and illuminate.

APPENDIX

Fifth-Century Athenian decrees This appendix provides brief descriptions and summaries of arguments around dating for all fifth-century Athenian decrees discussed in this monograph; I also provide references to my more extended discussions of texts where relevant. I have provided this appendix because of the debate around the dates of fifth-century decrees in particular. It is not intended to be a comprehensive resource for the dating of all fifth-century Athenian decrees; nor does it provide information for the later Athenian texts and non-Athenian documents analysed in the book. While I express preferences for certain dates, I believe that in many cases we must accept a degree of uncertainty and conduct historical analysis within the necessary limitations.

A.1  Decrees Concerning Individual Communities within the Empire As explained elsewhere, I define communities within the empire through tribute contribution, or other imperial measures such as fiscal impositions or garrisons. The presence of Athenian power was, of course, variable. Some of the texts listed here (including those concerning Euboia) possibly concern cleruchies rather than allied communities.

References

Community

Contents

Dating

IG I3 10 = OR 120

Phaselis

Legal agreement between Athens and Phaselis in southern Anatolia. See Chapter 5.2.3.

Dated in IG to c.469–450 bc; Osborne and Rhodes agree with a date c.450 bc, arguing that the Eurymedon campaign would provide a convincing context for the decree. Jameson (2000), followed by Papazarkadas (2009) 70–1, suggest a date during the Archidamian War (420s bc) or later on prosopographic, linguistic, and historical grounds. Although I think an earlier date is possible, the Archidamian War, in my view, perhaps provides a more convincing context.

IG I3 11 = OR 166

Egesta

Treaty with Egesta in Sicily (not a tribute payer).

Now securely dated to 418/17 bc on the basis of the archon year. See Chambers, Galluci, and Spanos (1990); Matthaiou (2004); see Introduction 0.4.1.

IG I3 12 = AIO 1835

Haliykai

Treaty with Haliykai in Sicily (not a tribute payer), inscribed on same stone as the treaty with Egesta.

Likely dates to 418/17 bc or shortly afterwards. Smart (1972) 133 suggests 416/15 bc in line with Thucydides’ only reference to Haliykai at 7.32.1, which is plausible but not certain. Tracy (2016) 123 identifies the cutter as active between 423/2 and 394/3 bc.

IG I3 14 = OR 121 = AIO 296

Erythrai

Reintegration of Erythrai in western Anatolia into the empire. Measures concern Erythraian offerings at the Panathenaia (see Chapter 3.2) and the establishment of a council at Erythrai. The oath of the new council contains references to civil strife and Achaemenid involvement.

Osborne and Rhodes maintain the IG date in the late 450s bc, after the failure of Athens’s campaign in Egypt. The stone is lost, but the facsimiles suggest letter forms in line with this date; see Malouchou (2014). I agree that a date before the Peace of Kallias is preferable, although cannot be con­sidered certain, given the constant Achaemenid presence in western Anatolia. Moroo (2014) suggests an alternative date of 435/4 bc, partially on the basis of the tribute quota lists.

IG I3 15 = AIUK 4.2 no. 2 (fragment A)

Erythrai

Likely referring to the same interaction with Erythrai as IG I3 14. Fragment A refers to a gar­rison commander; fragment D contains part of an Erythraian oath. Moroo (2014) disassociates fragments B and C and identifies them as independent financial documents.

Likely the same context as IG I3 14 in the 450s bc; again, Moroo (2014) suggests a later date, in the 430s bc.

IG I3 16 = AIO 1741

Allied city (sometimes identified as Erythrai)

Very fragmentary text referring to a garrison commander. Physically compatible with IG I3 14 and 15, so perhaps also concerned with Erythrai.

If the identification with IG I3 14 and 15 is correct, then also dated to the late 450s bc. Again, Moroo (2014) suggests a date in the 430s bc.

IG I3 17

Sigeion

Fragmentary decree concerning Sigeion in north-west Anatolia on the Asian side of the Hellespont. Some honorific elements.

Dated in IG to 451/0 bc, on the basis of the restoration of the partially preserved archon; such an early date, in my view, is not compatible with the honorific elements or the inclusion of the archon date. Mattingly (first in 1963) suggested a date of 418/17 bc, restoring the archon Antiphon as in the decree for Egesta (IG I3 11); he is followed by Rhodes (2008). While this date is possible, I prefer Papazarkadas’s (2014) res­tor­ation of Antigenes and date of 407/6 bc, within the context of the Ionian War (see Chapter 1.3.2.1). Note that Tracy (2016) 220–1 argues on palaeo­graph­ic grounds that a later date is preferable, discounting 451/0 bc.

IG I3 21

Miletos

Reintegration of Miletos in western Anatolia. Decree contains legal and financial measures and refers to a garrison. Oath.

Despite attempts to date the decree earl­ier due to the presence of the three-bar sigma (note the date of 450/49 bc in IG), the date of 426/5 bc is secure on the basis of the archon Euthynos; see Papazarkadas (2009) 71. Tracy (2016) 32–4, 224–6 supports this later date and notes that the lettering is in accordance with his ‘late fine plain style’.

IG I3 29

Unknown allied city

Fragmentary text preserves part of an oath.

Dated in IG to c.450 bc on the basis of the three-bar sigma. Likely later, but no convincing alternative date has been suggested; see Rhodes (2008). Tracy (2016) 29 does not attempt to identify a cutter but notes that the writing could be consistent with a date in the 420s or even later.

Continued

References

Community

Contents

Dating

IG I3 37 = ML 47

Kolophon

Reintegration of Kolophon in western Anatolia. Oath. Possible reference to col­on­ists in line 42.

Dated in IG to 447/6 bc, on the basis of the three-bar sigma and Kolophon’s record in the tribute quota lists; the date is maintained by Rhodes (2008). Papazarkadas (2009), following Mattingly (1961b) 175, favours a date of 427 bc, when Thuc. 3.34 refers to Paches’ intervention at Kolophon and the sending of Athenian col­on­ists. Tracy (2016) 228 in fact suggests that fragment a shows his ‘late fine plain style’ while fragments b and c (which contain the references to the colonists and the oath) are consistent with an earlier date, implying that the fragments should be disassociated. A re-evaluation of all the fragments is thus necessary.

IG I3 38

Aegina

Very fragmentary text, with pos­sible oath.

Dated in IG to 457–445 bc; Rhodes (2008) maintains this date, while Mattingly (1967a) opts for a context just before the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War in 432 bc. Tracy (2016) 228 lists the inscription as an example of his ‘late fine plain style’, perhaps supporting the later date, but says that there are not enough letters to make a proper study of the hand.

IG I3 39 = AIO 1257

Eretria(?)

Identical oath to IG I3 40, but no ethnic or toponym preserved. It is likely that it pertains to Eretria on Euboia, which is referred to in IG I3 40. Matthaiou (2014–19) suggests the Diakrioi as an alternative, another Euboean community known from IG I3 71 lines 93–4; but I think that the traditional identification of Eretria is more likely.

446/5 bc (see Thuc. 1.114) or 424/3 bc (see Philochoros FGrH 328 F 130); see IG I3 40.

IG I3 40 = OR 131 (see Figure 1.1)

Chalkis

Reintegration of Chalkis (city on Euboia). Two proposals and a rider. First records oaths of Athenians and Chalkidians. Second concerns swearing of Chalkidian oath, an obscure tax exemption measure, the order for inscription, and arrangements for sacrifice in accordance with oracles. Rider imposes a limit on Chalkis’s legal independence. Extended discussion at Chapter 1.3.1.2.

The decrees are usually dated to 446/5 bc, when Thucydides records a revolt in Euboia; Rhodes (2008) retains this earl­ier date. Mattingly (1961a) has proposed a date of 424/3 bc on the basis of Philochoros FGrH 328 F 130, and Tracy (2016) 30 agrees. In my view, the reference to Chalkidian persuasion over tribute levels (lines 25–7) might tally better with this later date (see Chapter 2.3). That said, the possibility that the inscription, along with the decrees for Eretria (?) and Histiaia, should be dated in the more obvious context provided by Thucydides cannot be entirely dismissed.

IG I3 41 = AIUK 4.2 no. 3

Histiaia

Measures for Histiaia (on Euboia, tribute contributor in the early lists), possibly concerning the Athenian settlers referred to by Thucydides. Fiscal measures, arrangements for ferrying fees between Oropos on the mainland and Euboia, and legal terms.

446/5 bc (see Thuc. 1.114) or 424/3 bc (see Philochoros FGrH 328 F 130); see IG I3 40.

IG I3 42

Kolophon

Fragmentary text with partially preserved reference to Kolophon in western Anatolia. Possible reference to an oath (line 6).

Dated in IG to c.445–442 bc. Mattingly (1963) 267 dates it to c.425 bc, while Rhodes (2008) retains the earlier date. Tracy (2016) identifies it as an example of his ‘late fine plain style’ and favours a date after 430 bc. The fragmentary contents of the decree, in my view, allow little scope for historical analysis.

IG I3 43

Kolophon

Fragmentary decree almost certainly concerning Kolophon in western Anatolia. Reference to theoria. See Chapter 3.2.

Dated in IG to c.435–427 bc. Tracy (2016) 115 identifies the cutter with that of IG I3 50, securely dated to 424/3 bc, so the date offered in IG is not unlikely.

Continued

References

Community

Contents

Dating

IG I3 48 = OR 139 = AIO 1169

Samos

Reintegration of Samos, island off western Anatolia. Samian and Athenian oaths. Associated with the financial document IG I3 293 = OR 138.

Dated to 439 bc on the basis of internal information including names of gen­erals (see Thuc. 1.117). As Polly Low has pointed out (in a conference paper), this is the earliest securely dated decree for an allied community.

IG I3 53 = OR 149A = AIUK 4.2 no. 4

Rhegion

Renewal of alliance with Rhegion in South Italy (not a tribute payer). Oaths of Athenians and Rhegians. Prescript reinscribed and text of old alliance retained. Very similar to IG I3 54. See Chapter 1.2.2.2.

Securely dated to 433/2 bc on the basis of the archon year.

IG I3 54 = OR 149B

Leontinoi

Renewal of alliance with Leontinoi in Sicily (not a tribute payer). Oaths of Athenians and Leontinians. Prescript reinscribed and text of old alliance retained. Very similar to IG I3 53. See Chapter 1.2.2.2.

Securely dated to 433/2 bc on the basis of the archon year.

IG I3 61 = OR 150

Methone

Four decrees inscribed sim­ul­tan­eous­ly on the same stone, with docu­ment relief (see Figure 4.2), concerning Methone, on the Thermaic Gulf in Macedon. First two decrees and header of third survive. The decrees award various priv­il­eges to the Methoneans including near exemption from tribute and the right to import grain from Byzantion. The decrees describe how Perdikkas of Macedon was putting pressure on Methone. See Chapter 4.2.1.

Decree 1 likely dated to c.430/29 bc, perhaps a little later; see Osborne and Rhodes’ discussion around Methone’s tribute and the timing of the Panathenaia. Decree 2 securely dated to 426/5 bc as the secretary is also recorded in a record of loans (IG I3 369 line 5) with a named archon year. Decree 3 dated between Decrees 2 and 4, c.425/4 bc. Decree 4 and the publication of the dossier can be securely placed in 424/3 bc as the name of secretary is known from Thuc. 4.118.11.

IG I3 62

Aphytis

Measures concerning Aphytis, on the Chalkidiki peninsula in Thrace. Grain import privilege with reference to Methone, reference to oath, praise for people of Aphytis. See Chapter 4.2.1; Chapter 6.3.1.

Dated to 428/7 bc in IG; Mattingly (1963) 259 suggests 426/5 bc. While we cannot be so precise, a date in the 420s close to the second decree regarding Methone seems likely.

IG I3 63

Aphytis

Measures concerning Aphytis with rare mention of asylia. See Chapter 6.3.1.

Dated in IG to c.426. A date in the 420s bc would be consistent with the historical context and the other decree for Aphytis. Autopsy indicated a similar style of lettering across both stones.

IG I3 66

Mytilene

Fragmentary measures for Mytilene on Lesbos, including a grant of autonomy (line 11).

Dated in IG to 427/6 (see Thuc. 3.50, which describes Mytilene’s capitulation to the Athenians), with other scholars suggesting other dates in the 420s. However, Fornara (2010) con­vin­cing­ly argues that a grant of autonomy would be very unlikely in the immediate aftermath of the foundation of the Athenian cleruchy at Mytilene and suggests 412 bc as a possible context for this decree and the end of the cleruchy (in relation to Thuc. 8.32.2).

IG I3 67

Unknown state, usually identified as Mytilene, following Meritt (1954)

Very fragmentary text. Potentially concerned with plunder or piracy.

Dated in IG to 427/6 bc. Difficult to date, due to the limit­ed surviving text. Further study will be needed to determine its relationship with IG I3 66.

IG I3 75 = AIUK 3 no. 1

Halieis

Alliance with Halieis in the Peloponnese (not a tribute-paying community but, as shown by this text, subject to a gar­rison). Exchange of oaths.

Dated con­vin­cing­ly in IG and AIUK to 424/3 bc, on the basis of context provided by Thucydides.

Continued

References

Community

Contents

Dating

IG I3 76

Bottiaians

Treaty between Athens and the Bottiaian cities in Thrace. Oaths. See Chapter 4.2.2.

Dated in IG to 422 bc, following Meritt (1925). Tracy (2016) 124 identifies the cutter with a text dated between 423/2 and 394/3 bc, so a date in the late 420s is possible, and would accord with the historical context.

IG I3 96

Samos

Decree concerning the island of Samos off the coast of western Anatolia. Some honorific elements.

Dated in IG to 412/1 bc (see Thuc. 8.21); the contents of the decree certainly align with this date, around the time of the upheaval at Samos and Athens.

IG I3 101 = OR 187 = AIO 1176 (see Figure 1.2)

Neapolis

Three decrees inscribed cumulatively on the same stone, with the first two preserved to some degree, awarding priv­il­eges to Neapolis in Thrace in return for as­sist­ance in Athens’s war against Thasos. See Chapter 1.3.2.2; Chapter 4.3.3.

Decree 1 dated securely to 410/9 bc on the basis of the archon year. Decree 2 likely dated to 407 bc. As Osborne and Rhodes point out, the decree itself implies that the siege of Thasos had concluded. Decree 3 can likely be dated to a similar context.

IG I3 103

Halikarnassos

Decree with honorific form for Halikarnassos in Karia, south-west Anatolia.

Dated in IG to c.410/9 bc. Such a date would accord with the honorific form of the decree and the context of the Ionian War. Further consideration of the decree would be beneficial.

IG I3 118 = OR 185

Selymbria

Reintegration of Selymbria on the European side of the Propontis in Thrace. First document records agreement with the general Alkibiades, second document records its ratification by decree in Athens. See Chapter 1.3.2.2.

The first docu­ment can be dated to 408 bc (Xen. Hell. 1.3.10), the second to 407 bc after Alkibiades’ return to Athens after his exile.

IG I3 119 = OR 186

Klazomenians at Daphnous

Decree ratifying agreement made by generals with the Klazomenians living in exile at Daphnos in western Anatolia.

The decree is proposed by Alkibiades, so likely dates to 407 bc after his return from exile.

IG I3 124

Kios

Only the docu­ment relief and part of the prescript is preserved. Decree concerning Kios on the Propontis in north-west Anatolia.

Dated to 406/5 bc on the basis of the archon year. Accords well with what we know of the final years of the Ionian War.

IG I3 127 = OR 191 (Decree 1); IG II2 1 (Decrees 2 and 3); AIO 796 (entire monument)

Samos

Three decrees awarding exceptional honours to Samos, off the coast of western Anatolia, at the end of the Peloponnesian War and in its aftermath. Likely reinscribed at the time of Decree 3 after destruction of the original monument by the Thirty tyrants.

Decree 1 securely dated to 405/4 bc on the basis of the archon year. Decree 2 securely dated to 403/2 bc on the basis of the archon year. Decree 3 and publication securely dated to 403/2 bc on the basis of the archon year.

IG I3 149

Eretria

Fragmentary inscription concerning Eretria on Euboia. References to legal measures.

Dated in IG to c.432–412 bc. Certainly, a date during the war before the loss of Euboia is possible. Mattingly (1996) 512 favours 418/17 bc, partially on formal grounds; such specific dating, in my view, is perhaps not possible, but further consideration of the decree would be helpful.

IG I3 1454 = OR 136 = AIO 954

Eteokarpathians

Decree awarding privileges to the Eteokarpathians, a new community on the island of Karpathos. See Chapter 2.2.1; Chapter 5.3.4.

Dated in IG to c.445–430 bc. I would favour a more specific date in proximity to their appearance in a special rubric in the tribute quota lists in 434/3 bc.

A.2  Empire-Wide Decrees References

Contents

Dating

IG I3 78 = OR 141

Decree concerning the collection of first-fruit offerings for the sanctuary at Eleusis.

Dated in IG to c.422 bc. Likely to be dated between 440 and 421; Osborne and Rhodes sum­mar­ize the convincing arguments for a date c.435 bc. See also Cavanaugh (1996) 19–27, 73–95 for more in-depth explication. Note that Tracy (2016) 115 identifies the cutter with that of IG I3 50, dated to 424/3 bc.

IG I3 68 = OR 152

Two decrees, the first proposed by Kleonymos, regarding the collection of tribute. See Chapter 2.3.1.

Dated in IG and OR to c.426/5 bc and in AIO to c.428–425 bc, following the uncertainty of Matthaiou (2009) 105–7. Certainly, it should be dated earlier than IG I3 71.

IG I3 71 = OR 153 = AIO 959 (see Figure 2.1)

Two decrees, both proposed by Thoudippos, regarding the assessment of tribute. The second sets new levels of assessment. See Chapter 2.3.1.

Securely dated to 425/4 bc on the basis on the archon year.

IG I3 34 = OR 154 = AIUK 4.2 no. 5

Decree proposed by Kleinias concerning the collection of tribute. See Chapter 2.3.1.

Incorrectly dated in IG to 448/7 bc due to the presence of the three-bar sigma. However, it should be dated to 425/4 bc, shortly after IG I3 71; see Matthaiou (2009) 85–6.

IG I3 1454 = OR 155

‘Standards decree’ concerning coinage, weights, and measures. Preserved in fragments from a number of communities in the empire. See Chapter 2.4; Chapter 6.2.2; 6.2.4.

Incorrectly dated in IG to the 440s bc due to the presence of a three-bar sigma in the fragment from Kos. Some scholars now choose to date the decree in the 420s bc, in the same context of fiscal crisis as the three empire-wide decrees concerning tribute; Osborne and Rhodes are open to this argument. I follow Lisa Kallet in favouring a date of 414 bc or a little earlier, in line with the reference in Aristophanes’ Birds (lines 1040–1). The decree would have facilitated the implementation of the 5 per cent harbour tax in 413 bc.

A.3  Decrees Concerning Non-Athenian Individuals References

Individual

Contents

Dating

IG I3 89

Perdikkas, king of Macedon

Alliance with Perdikkas and other prominent Macedonian individuals. Oaths. Reference to supply of oars. See Chapter 4.2.3.

Dated in IG to 417 to 413 bc, although dates between the 440s bc and 410s bc have been suggested. Hammond and Griffith (1979) 134–6 lay out the possible arguments and favour c.415 bc. In my view, any date between the late 420s bc and c.415 bc is pos­sible, after the Athenian loss of Amphipolis and Thracian timber supplies, and when Perdikkas was once more allied with Athens. Tracy (2016) 124 identifies the cutter as active between 423/2 and 394/3, strengthening the case for a date in the 420s or later.

IG I3 102 = OR 182

Thrasyboulos of Kalydon and associates, assassins of the oligarch Phyrnichos

Three decrees passed at the same assembly inscribed on the same stone. The first decree awards Thrasyboulos a crown and orders for it to be announced at the Dionysia; see Chapter 3.2.2. The second awards Thrasyboulos citizenship and honours some of his associates. The third decree appears to concern those who attempted to trade bribes for honours.

Securely dated to 410/9 bc on the basis of the archon year.

IG I3 113 = AIO 1970

Evagoras, king of Salamis in Cyprus

Decree awarding Evagoras honours, likely including citizenship. See also IG II2 20 + Add. P. 656 = RO 11= AIUK 4.2 no. 7; Chapter 5.2.6.

Dated in IG to c.410 bc; Osborne (1981) D3 suggests early 407 bc. It is difficult to suggest an exact context, but a date in the final decade of the century before 403/2 bc is secure due to the use of the Attic alphabet.

IG I3 117 = OR Archelaos, king 188 = AIO 1177 of Macedon

Honours for Archelaos. Arrangements for the building and transport of ships. See Chapter 4.2.3.

Dated fairly securely to 407/6 bc on the basis of the restoration of the archon year, as explained by Osborne and Rhodes. Corroboration is provided by Tracy (2016) 151 who identifies the cutter as active between 414/13 bc and 386/5 bc.

IG I3 125

Epikerdes of Kyrene

Honours for Epikerdes of Kyrene, who performed services for the Athenians in Sicily. Award of crown. See Chapter 3.2.2.

Dated securely to 405/4 bc on the basis of the archon year. Note that Tracy (2016) 151 identifies the cutter as the same as for IG I3 117.

IG I3 182

Antiochides and Phanosthenes

Honours for Antiochides and Phanosthenes of Andros, arrangements for transport of oars. See Chapter 4.2.3.

Dated in IG to 430 to 405 bc. However, in my view the decree has been convincingly dated by MacDonald (1981) to c.410–407/6 bc, on the basis of historical context and of Phanosthenes’ career.

A.4  Other Decrees References

Contents

Dating

IG I3 46 = OR 142

Decree relating to the foundation of a colony at Brea in Thrace, the exact location of which is unknown. See Chapter 4.3.2.

Dated in IG to c.445 bc. Mattingly (1963) 261 suggests 426/5 bc. However, in my view it is likely dated to the 430s bc, when the Athenians were investing significant resources in Thrace; see Psoma (2009).

IG I3 47

Decree relating to an unknown settlement, likely in Thrace. References to oars and emporia. See Chapter 4.3.2.

Dated in IG to 440 to 425 bc. In my view, the inscription likely belongs to the 430s bc, along with IG I3 46.

IG I3 52 = OR 144

Decrees relating to financial organization and the Treasuries of the Other Gods, the first proposed by Kallias. Financial consolidation in the years before the Peloponnesian War. See Chapter 6.3.

Dated in IG to 434/3 bc; this date is retained by Osborne and Rhodes. There has been debate around the dates of the two decrees and their relationship to each other; Kallet-Marx (1989b) argues for their temporal separation. A forthcoming examination by Sebastian Prignitz, who conducted autopsy on the stone in the Louvre, may settle the debate in favour of the traditional dating.

IG I3 60

Fragmentary Athenian financial decree with reference to tribute.

Dated in IG to c.430 bc. In my view, its context is likely during the Archidamian War (420s bc) alongside the empire-wide decrees concerning tribute (IG I3 34, 68, 71).

IG I3 83 = OR 165

Treaty with Argos, Elis, and Mantineia for one hundred years.

Securely dated to 420 bc. The text of the treaty is also reproduced at Thuc. 5.47.

IG I3 123 = OR 189 = AIO 310

Fragmentary treaty with Carthage. References to Carthaginian generals and to Sicily.

Dated in IG to 407/6 bc. This date is likely, given that the named generals were operating in Sicily in that year, according to Diod. Sic. 13.80.1–2, 86.3; see Osborne and Rhodes.

IG I3 176

Decree about the cult of Bendis. See Chapter 3.3.

Almost certainly dated to 413/2 bc on the basis of the partially restored archon year. Cutter identified by Tracy (2016) 183.

IG II3 4 665

Decree commemorating the foundation of the Asklepion in Athens. See Chapter 3.3.2.

Dated c.400 bc; see AIO for brief discussion. Tracy (2016) 154 identifies the cutter as active between 414/13 bc and 386/5 bc.

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Index Locorum For the benefit of digital users, indexed terms that span two pages (e.g., 52–53) may, on occasion, appear on only one of those pages.

I.  Literary Texts Aeschines Σ. 2.31  160–1 3.138–5 160 3.171 225 Andokides 1.132 108–9 1.133–4  189n.113, 247 2.11  58, 146–7 2.20  192, 196 2.21 196 3.29 187n.95 Antiphon Fr. 25–33  83, 207 Fr. 49–56  72, 83, 85–7 Archilochos Fr. 5  152–3 Fr. 21  131 [Aristotle] Athenaion Politeia 15.2  60–1, 134n.32, 160 23.5 45 24.2 63n.197 24.3 16n.87 [Aristotle], Oeconomica 2.1.4 235 Aristotle, Politics 1307b22–4 63n.197 Aristophanes Acharnians 377–82 30 497–503 30n.4 497–556 69n.20 505–6  30n.8, 100–1 633–44 29 660–4 30n.3 Σ. 378  30 Aristophanes, Birds 877–80 111–12 1028 217–18 1040–1 92 1042 40

1274–5 106n.65 1565–1692 21–2 Aristophanes, Frogs 363 90n.165 722–5 191 Aristophanes, Knights 303–33 88 438 88n.152 573–6 107 702 107 801–2 88–9 834–5 88–9 1030–4 88n.152 1196–7 88–9 1407–8 88–9 Aristophanes, Lysistrata 420–4 145n.105 Aristophanes, Peace 603–28 69n.20 619 12n.63 639 12n.63 1172–6 229 Aristophanes, Wasps 235–7 245 658  189n.113, 247 669–72 88 700 225 894–7 89 914–5 89 936–40 89 1188 108n.82 Demosthenes 15.29 142 18.120 106n.66 19.121–2 58n.158 19.273–4 187 20.29–40 226–7 20.35–6 232n.135 20.60 244 23.118 150 23.170 150

288  Index Locorum Demosthenes (cont.) 34.6 226–7 34.23  228, 232–3 35  183, 189 35.29  189n.113, 247 56 183 56.30  180n.46, 189–90 Dio Chrysostom 40.30 213 Diodοrus Siculus 3.34.7 180n.46 11.60–3 184 12.4.1 186 12.4.4–6 187 12.9.5–6 45n.79 12.10 160n.199 12.4.5 187n.99 12.68.2 161n.207 13.38.5  108, 175, 206 13.66.4 52n.125 13.72.1 135–6 13.75.1  122, 175 14.94 91 20.81.4–82.1 183 20.84.3  123n.158, 124n.165 20.100.3 183 Dionysios of Byzantion 109 243–4 Eupolis Fr. 99  229 Fr. 247  211, 219, 229 Fr. 254  100n.24 Euripides, Helen 147–50 195 Eusebius 93B.2 182n.68 Hellenica Oxyrhynchia 10 122 22 234 25 237 Hermippos Fr. 63  144, 189 Herodotus 1.62–4  60–1, 101, 134n.32, 160 1.69–70 45 1.147 112n.103 1.146 112n.107 1.165 202–3 2.178 181 2.182 181 3.39–45 181

3.48 181 3.89–97 235 4.144 215 5.2 134 5.11 134 5.17  131n.5, 133 5.23  129, 134 5.49 186 5.65  60–1, 214n.14 5.77 159–60 5.91 214n.14 5.94–5 214n.14 5.126 134 6.5  224, 243 6.21 45n.79 6.26  224, 243 6.33 239 6.34–41  60–1, 159, 214n.14 6.42  16n.86, 187 6.46–7  131n.5, 153–4 6.127 60–1 6.140 60–1 7.106–7 134 7.108 154 7.109 154 7.109–27 134 7.110 133 7.112 131n.5 7.147 224 7.151 187 8.127 141–2 8.136 148n.129 Hippokrates, Epidemics 1.20 122 Homer, Iliad 2.653–6 173–4 Isokrates 4.46 103–4 4.120  187, 236n.163 7.80 187n.99 8.36 67n.7 8.82  98, 100–1 9 195–6 9.18 195 9.54 195–6 9.56 196 9.57 196 9.64 195 12.59 187n.99 17.57  224, 226–7 Krateros FGrHist 242  225 FGrHist 324 F 1  186

Index Locorum  289 Kratinos Fr. 171  12n.62, 88 Fr. 426  161–2

Strabo 6.1.13 45n.79 12.8.11 219

Lykourgos Against Leokrates 105n.59

Theophrastos, Characters 30.7 58n.159

Lysias 12.11 228 2.56 63n.197 13.70–72  54n.139, 105, 113–14 16.4 226–7 21.5 108–9 32.6 228 Philochoros Fr. 90  186 Pindar, Olympian 7 18  122n.149, 130 80–2 103 Plato, Parmenides 127 B  103 Plutarch, Life of Alkibiades 24 239 30 52n.125 33 62–3 Plutarch, Life of Aristeides 16 224–5 25 45 Plutarch, Life of Kimon 7–8 160 11 161–2 12  40, 182, 184, 188 14 157n.179 Plutarch, Life of Nikias 3.4–6  103n.50, 108–9 Plutarch, Life of Perikles 11  160–1, 160n.199 12 66n.3 17 86 19 214n.15 20 224–5 29–33 69n.20 37 186 Plutarch, Life of Solon 8–9 46n.91 Plutarch, Life of Theseus 16 142n.78 Polybius 4.44  213–14, 243–4 5.89 183n.71 30.21.12  183, 189–90 Solon Fr. 4a  112n.102

Theophrastos, History of Plants 4.5.5  130, 212 4.52 189–90 Theophrastos, On Stones 8.51–5 250 Theopompos Fr. 115  187 Fr. 154  187 Thucydides 1.2–20  18, 66 1.2 112 1.8 101 1.10 110n.91 1.23 18 1.24–55 164 1.25 112n.105 1.31–6  20, 62 1.56–67 135 1.56 163 1.57 146 1.58  75–6, 141 1.61 137–9 1.64 139 1.94 216 1.96  2, 12, 66, 101 1.97  2, 66, 74 1.98  134, 160 1.99 67 1.100  131n.5, 134, 154, 160–1 1.101  69n.18, 134, 156–7, 202–3 1.104 185 1.109–10 185 1.112 185 1.115–17  187–8, 216 1.117 44 1.128–31 216 1.138  216, 236 1.139 69n.20 2.15 159 2.19 29n.2 2.29  59, 133, 135, 137–9, 149–50 2.37 64 2.38  95, 103–4, 189 2.67  135, 217–18 2.69  69n.17, 84–5, 188 2.70  135, 163 2.79 135

290  Index Locorum Thucydides (cont.) 2.80 135 2.95–2.101 135 2.96 214–15 2.97  59–60, 133 2.99 133n.19 3.2  55n.140, 224 3.5 202–3 3.8–15  20, 103 3.19  69n.17, 84–5 3.36  19, 59–60 3.38 88n.157 3.70  54–5, 64 3.82 63–4 3.104 101 4.50  69n.17, 84–5 4.54 202–3 4.75  69n.17, 84–5, 216–17, 224–5 4.78–88 135n.43 4.83 133n.19 4.102  75–6, 134–5, 160–1 4.102–35 135n.43 4.104 133–4 4.105  131n.5, 133–4 4.107 154 4.108  145–6, 161 4.117–19  135n.43, 139–40 4.124–8 133n.19 5.1 101 5.2–13 135n.43 5.10 135n.43 5.17 45 5.18  74, 135n.44, 140 5.21 135n.45 5.23 103 5.41–50 59 5.45 22n.115 5.47  103, 143n.92 5.83 135n.46 5.84–116 225 5.84  64, 250–1 5.105 20 5.116 69n.21 6.1 62n.183 6.6 41 6.7 137–9 6.8 19 6.31 80 6.61 62–3 6.85 19 7.9 135n.46 7.28 90 8.1  147, 235

8.6  59, 217, 239 8.14 58 8.17 58 8.29 190–1 8.35 196 8.41 174n.8 8.42  174n.8, 203–4 8.44  122, 174–5, 189–90, 206 8.52 174n.8 8.55  174n.8, 203–4 8.56 187 8.60  174n.8, 217 8.64 135–6 8.92  60, 105n.59 8.107  219, 239 Xenophon, Anabasis 5.6.23 222–3 7.3.10 222–3 [Xenophon] Athenaion Politeia 1.14 63n.197 1.16 63n.197 1.17  189n.113, 247 2.7 225 3.8 103n.53 3.10–11 63n.197 Xenophon Hellenica 1.1.20  219, 239 1.1.22  217, 243 1.1.23–6 212 1.3.9 90n.165 1.3.10  52, 217 1.3.8–14 217 1.3.13 239 1.3.14–16 217 1.4.9 135–6 1.4.13 62–3 1.5.1–7 190–1 2.1.27–28 217 2.2.1 226–7 2.2.3 17n.89 2.2.5–9 135–6 3.1.10–15 236 4.1.15–16 233–4 4.1.29 239 4.3.10–12 196 4.8.27  192n.131, 244 4.8.25–30 91 5.1.3 26–7 5.2.11–19 141 Xenophon, Poroi 3.2 191 3.4 107n.75

Index Locorum  291 II. Inscriptions Please note that inscriptions included in OR and RO are listed twice (for example under both IG and OR). Adak and Thonemann (2022) Document 2  78n.86 Agora XVI 37 1  206–7 Bonias (2000)  155 Brixhe (2015) no. 4  149 Cottier at al. (2008)  232n.135 Duchêne (1992) (= OR 104)  167 Effenterre and Ruzé (1994) no. 1.32  219, 243 Effenterre and Ruzé (1994) no. 1.74  219 Hatzopoulos (1996) no. 1 (= RO 12)  144n.95 ID 89 (= OR 147)  101 ID 502  80n.93 ID 506  80n.93 ID 507  80n.93 IG I3 1 (= AIO 1672)  23, 45–6, 159–60 IG I3 6 (= OR 106 = AIUK 4.2 no. 1)  101 IG I3 10 (= OR 120)  33–4, 37n.46, 38–40, 49, 188–9, 196 IG I3 11 (= OR 166)  9–10, 41, 44n.75 IG I3 12 (= OR 166)  41, 44n.75 IG I3 14 (= OR 121 = AIO 296)  33, 35n.35, 44n.75, 63–4, 98–9 IG I3 15  35n.35, 44n.75 IG I3 16  34n.30 IG I3 17  50–1, 215n.17, 217 IG I3 21  33n.23, 34nn.30–31, 37n.45, 44n.75 IG I3 24  34n.25 IG I3 29  44n.75 IG I3 34 (= OR 154 = AIUK 4.2 no. 5)  84–6, 100, 110 IG I3 35 (= OR 137)  1n.3 IG I3 37  37nn.44–45, 44n.75, 47n.100 IG I3 38  44n.75 IG I3 39 (= AIO 1257)  38n.51, 41, 44n.75, 47n.100, 83 IG I3 40 (= OR 131)  7, 24n.130, 33n.23, 34–8, 34n.30, 40–1, 44n.75, 47–9, 73n.51, 83 IG I3 41 (= AIUK 4.2 no. 3)  33n.23, 41n.67, 102 IG I3 42  44n.75 IG I3 43  99–100, 108–9 IG I3 46 (= OR 142)  99–100, 161–2 IG I3 47  162

IG I3 48 (= OR 139 = AIO 1169)  35n.34, 44, 47n.100 IG I3 52 (= OR 144)  106n.68, 245–6 IG I3 53 (= OR 149A = AIUK 4.2 no. 4)  41, 143 IG I3 54 (= OR 149B)  41, 143 IG I3 60  80, 84n.120 IG I3 61 (= OR 150)  34–8, 40, 42, 48–50, 58, 62, 80–1, 84–5, 100–1, 103, 136–40, 146, 224, 244–5 IG I3 62  35n.35, 40–2, 44n.75, 49–50, 136–7, 139, 244–7 IG I3 63  35n.35, 49–50, 136–7, 246–7 IG I3 66  33n.20, 33n.24, 49n.106, 50 IG I3 67  34n.29 IG I3 68 (= OR 152)  84–5 IG I3 71 (= OR 153)  20n.104, 69–70, 82–5, 100, 103, 110, 200–3, 225 IG I3 75 (= AIUK 3 no. 1)  34n.30, 44n.75 IG I3 76  75–6, 142–3 IG I3 77  70n.24, 83, 149n.136 IG I3 78  86, 101 IG I3 83 (= OR 165)  143 IG I3 89  144–6 IG I3 91  206–7 IG I3 96  35n.34, 49n.106, 50, 60 IG I3 100  70n.24, 90n.165, 237 IG I3 101 (= OR 187 = AIO 1176)  34, 35n.36, 39, 50–1, 53–4, 154, 164–6 IG I3 102 (= OR 182)  54n.139, 104–5, 113–14 IG I3 103  50–1 IG I3 108  243–4 IG I3 113 (= AIO 1970)  195–6 IG I3 117 (= OR 188 = AIO 1177)  145–9 IG I3 118 (= OR 185)  32n.12, 33nn.20, 24, 44n.75, 50–2, 60, 63, 73n.51, 217 IG I3 119 (= OR 186)  50–1 IG I3 124  51, 217 IG I3 125  105–6, 148n.131 IG I3 127 (= OR 191 = AIO 796)  33, 33n.24, 35nn.34, 36, 37n.45, 50–1, 63 IG I3 149  33n.23 IG I3 176  127 IG I3 177  206–7 IG I3 181  206–7 IG I3 182  147–8, 247 IG I3 227 (= OR 157 = AIO 313)  187n.95 IG I3 259–72  2, 70–1 IG I3 259 (= OR 119A)  1, 66, 134–5, 141–2, 157, 189–90, 200, 228, 236–7 IG I3 260  214–15 IG I3 261  134–5, 157, 184, 200–1, 216–17 IG I3 262  157, 216–17, 227, 236, 249 IG I3 264  200, 227

292  Index Locorum IG I3 265  8 IG I3 266  141–2, 157, 184 IG I3 268  157, 227 IG I3 270  6, 157 IG I3 271  200–1 IG I3 272  80, 215n.16 IG I3 273–80  2, 70–1 IG I3 276  80 IG I3 277  71, 80 IG I3 278  71, 74–7, 199–201, 237 IG I3 279  71, 74–5, 77, 157, 163 IG I3 280  71, 80, 157, 199–201 IG I3 281–90  2, 70–1 IG I3 281  70–5, 72n.41, 77, 80, 82, 199–200, 216–17, 227 IG I3 282  70–3, 77, 80–1, 137–9, 199–200 IG I3 283  199–201 IG I3 284  79n.91 IG I3 291  69–70, 69n.17, 89n.160 IG I3 292–362  106 IG I3 341  228 IG I3 369  127 IG I3 370 (= OR 170)  222–3, 228 IG I3 376  161 IG I3 383  127, 228 IG I3 384  228 IG I3 433–97  110n.89 IG I3 435  1n.2 IG I3 435–51  1n.3 IG I3 449 (= OR 145)  228 IG I3 462–6  1n.3 IG I3 474–9  1n.3 IG I3 1147 (= OR 109)  186 IG I3 1453 (= OR 155)  24n.130, 91–3, 179n.36, 205–6, 225, 232, 242 IG I3 1454 (= OR 136 = AIO 954)  24n.130, 33n.20, 49n.106, 50, 73–5, 110–11, 129, 179n.36, 207–9 IG I3 1481–99  102, 125 IG I3 1502  102 IG II2 1 (= RO 2 = AIO 796)  63, 105–6 IG II2 2  105–6 IG II2 6 (= OR 177 B)  168n.250 IG II2 20 + add. p. 656 (= RO 11 = AIUK 4.2 no. 7)  105–7, 196 IG II2 24  91n.173, 169n.253 IG II2 28 (= RO 18 = AIO 800)  56–7, 91 IG II2 30  46n.90 IG II2 42 (= RO 23 = AIO 803)  56–7 IG II2 43 (= RO 22)  56–7, 67, 122, 150–1, 249 IG II2 63  79n.90 IG II2 107 (= RO 31)  57n.149 IG II2 111 (= RO 39)  55n.140, 56–7, 249–53 IG II2 123 (= RO 52)  67n.7

IG II2 126 (= RO 47)  150–1 IG II2 141 (= RO 21 = AIUK 11 no. 1)  189n.111, 196 IG II2 287  247n.223 IG II2 456  116–17 IG II2 466  116n.124 IG II2 563  116n.124 IG II2 564  117 IG II2 565  117 IG II2 566  117 IG II2 567  117 IG II2 693  117 IG II2 1128 (= RO 40)  249–53 IG II2 1129  116n.124 IG II2 1283  127–8 IG II2 1386  106 IG II2 1485  116n.124 IG II2 1491  106n.72 IG II2 1635 (= RO 28 A = AIUK 3 no. 3)  108n.82 IG II2 10270 (= AIUK 4.6 no. 11)  189n.111 IG II3 1 298 (= RO 64)  38n.50, 105–7, 148–9, 224, 226–7 IG II3 1 462  226–7 IG II3 1 474  117 IG II3 1 870 (= AIUK 4.2 no. 12)  226–7 IG II3 1 1137  108n.83 IG II3 1 1178  117n.133 IG II3 1 1239 (= I.Priene2 99)  117–19 IG II3 4 665  124–5 IG 5 1 1 (= OR 151)  20n.104 IG 9 12 3 609 (= ML 13)  162 IG 12 1 71  124n.164 IG 12 2 1 (= OR 195)  221–2 IG 12 6 277  186–7 IG 12 5 109  152n.150, 169–70 IG 12 6 279 (= OR 110 A)  186–7 IG 12 6 468 (= OR 110 B)  186–7 IG 12 8 263 with IG 12 Suppl. p. 151 (= OR 177 A)  168 IG 12 9 187 (= OR 175)  198n.170 IG 12 Suppl. 347 (= OR 103 B)  131, 154, 168 IGUR I 223–30  122–6 I.Kalch. 16  232–3 IK Rhod. Per. 251  179 I.Priene2 5  116 I.Priene2 17  117 I.Priene2 65  119 I.Priene2 99 (= IG II3 1239)  117–19 Lindos II 2  181n.50 Lindos II 13  179 Lindos II 14  178–80 Lindos II 15  178–80 Lindos II 16  176–80, 197–8

Index Locorum  293 Lindos II 16 App.  172, 176–80, 197–8 Lindos II 199  124n.163 Lindos II 696  123n.162 LSAG 199 no. 15  107 ML 4  50n.111 ML 7  181 ML 10  44–5, 143 ML 17  45 OR 103 A (= Pouilloux no. 7 = SEG 18 347)  131, 155, 167 OR 103 B (= IG 12 Suppl. 347)  131, 154 OR 104 (= Duchêne (1992))  167 OR 106 (= IG I3 6 = AIUK 4.2 no. 1)  101 OR 109 (= IG I3 1147)  186 OR 110 A (= IG 12 6 279)  186–7 OR 110 B (= IG 12 6 468)  186–7 OR 119A (= IG I3 259)  1, 66, 134–5, 141–2, 157 OR 120 (= IG I3 10)  33–4, 37n.46, 38–40, 49, 188–9, 196 OR 121 (= IG I3 14 = AIO 296)  33, 35n.35, 44n.75, 63–4, 98–9 OR 131 (= IG I3 40)  7, 24n.130, 33n.23, 34–8, 34n.30, 40–1, 44n.75, 47–9, 73n.51, 83 OR 136 (= IG I3 1454 = AIO 954)  24n.130, 33n.20, 49n.106, 50, 73–5, 110–11, 129, 179n.36, 207–9 OR 137 (= IG I3 35)  1n.3 OR 139 (= IG I3 48 = AIO 1169)  35n.34, 44, 47n.100 OR 142 (= IG I3 46)  99–100, 161–2 OR 144 (= IG I3 52)  106n.68, 245–6 OR 145 (= IG I3 449)  228 OR 147 (= ID 89)  101 OR 149A (= IG I3 53 = AIUK 4.2 no. 4)  41, 143 OR 149B (= IG I3 54)  41, 143 OR 150 (= IG I3 61)  34–8, 40, 42, 48–50, 58, 62, 80–1, 84–5, 100–1, 103, 136–40, 146, 224, 244–5 OR 151 (= IG 5 1 1)  20n.104 OR 152 (= IG I3 68)  84–5 OR 153 (= IG I3 71)  20n.104, 69–70, 82–5, 100, 103, 110, 225 OR 154 (= IG I3 34 = AIUK 4.2 no. 5)  84–6, 100, 110 OR 155 (= IG I3 1453)  24n.130, 91–3, 179n.36, 205–6, 225, 232, 242 OR 165 (= IG I3 83)  143 OR 166 (= IG I3 11 + IG I3 12)  9–10, 41, 44n.75 OR 170 (= IG I3 370)  222–3, 228 OR 175 (= IG 12 9 187)  198n.170 OR 176 (= Pouilloux no. 18)  154, 168

OR 177 A (= IG 12 8 263 with IG 12 Suppl. p. 151) 168 OR 177 B (= IG II2 6)  168n.250 OR 182 (= IG I3 102)  54n.139, 104–5, 113–14 OR 185 (= IG I3 118)  32n.12, 33nn.20, 24, 44n.75, 50–2, 60, 63, 73n.51, 217 OR 186 (= IG I3 119)  50–1 OR 187 (= IG I3 101 = AIO 1176)  34, 35n.36, 39, 50–1, 53–4, 154, 164–6 OR 188 (= IG I3 117 = AIO 1177)  145–9 OR 191 (= IG I3 127 = AIO 796)  33, 33n.24, 35nn.34, 36, 37n.45, 50–1, 63, 194–5 OR 195 (= IG 12 2 1)  221–2 Papazarkadas (2007)  57n.153 Pouilloux no. 7 (= SEG 18 347 = OR 103 A)  131, 155, 167 Pouilloux no. 18 (= OR 176)  154, 167–8 RO 2 (= IG II2 1 = AIO 796)  63, 105–6 RO 11 (= IG II2 20 + add. p. 656 = AIUK 4.2 no. 7)  105–7, 196 RO 18 (= IG II2 28 = AIO 800)  56–7, 91 RO 21 (= IG II2 141 = AIUK 11 no. 1)  189n.111, 196 RO 22 (= IG II2 43)  56–7, 67, 122, 150–1, 249 RO 23 (= IG II2 42 = AIO 803)  56–7 RO 28 (= IG II2 1635 = AIUK 3 no. 3)  108n.82 RO 29 (= SEG 31.67)  56n.144, 99n.19, 116, 119 RO 31 (= IG II2 107)  57n.149 RO 39 (= IG II2 111)  55n.140, 56–7, 249–53 RO 40 (= IG II2 1128)  249–53 RO 47 (= IG II2 126)  150–1 RO 52 (= IG II2 123)  67n.7 RO 64 (= IG II3 1 298)  38n.50, 105–7, 148–9, 224, 226–7 Şahin (2021)  238–9 SEG 3.86  117 SEG 13.239  51n.115 SEG 23.82  106n.71 SEG 26.476  107 SEG 27.24 (= 36.586)  160 SEG 31.67 (= RO 29)  56n.144, 99n.19, 116, 119 SEG 41.661  201n.197 SEG 43.486 (= IGBulg V 5557)  151, 155–6 SEG 62.40  214n.14 Tit.Cam. 103  178–80 Tit.Cam. 105  177n.27 Tit.Cam. 109  204n.215

General Index For the benefit of digital users, indexed terms that span two pages (e.g., 52–53) may, on occasion, appear on only one of those pages. Abu Simbel  181 Achaemenid Persian Empire Art in Anatolia  234–5 As model for Athens  16, 67, 110 Coinage 240–1 Fiscal system  182, 186, 193–4, 217, 235–7, 243 Acropolis, Athens  1–2, 23–4, 95, 107, 112 Aegina  102, 125, 181, 189–90 Aigai (Macedon)  137, 146 Aigospotamoi  135, 217 Aiolitai 76 Alexander I of Macedon  133, 137 Alkibiades  52, 58–9, 62–3, 217, 226–7, 239, 243 Ambassadors  36, 58, 250–1 Amioi 201 Amorgos  74–5, 199 Amphipolis  75–6, 133–5, 144–6, 160–3 Andokides  58, 146–7, 196, 247 Anti-deceit clause  47, 142–5, 169 Antigonid kingdom  116–17 Antiochos III  15–16 Aphytis  40–2, 49–50, 91–3, 136–7, 139, 244, 246–7 Coinage 139n.66 Apollodoros of Selymbria  52, 60, 63 Arche (vocabulary)  12 Archelaos of Macedon  133, 147–9, 195 Archidamian war  18, 56, 84–5, 163–4, 174, 216–17, 245–6 Argos  59, 143 Aristophanes As evidence for empire  21–2 Babylonians  29–31, 62, 65, 100–1, 103, 112–13 Argilos  134–5, 155, 157, 160–1 Argos  103, 143 Aršama 193–4 Asklepios 124–5 Astakos 236–7 Athens as Ionian mother-city  112, 116, 119–20 Attalid kingdom  240 Autonomy  33, 52, 66, 73–4, 207–8

Bendis 127–8 Berge  134–5, 155, 157–8 Black Sea  213, 220–7, 232–3 Bosporos  80, 212–15, 242–7 Bottiaians  75–6, 135, 139–43 Coinage 141–2 Boundary stones  102, 125 Brasidas  133–5, 139–40, 145–6, 161 Brea  99–100, 112, 161–2 Bysbikos  77, 237 Byzantion  32, 137, 212, 215–17, 224, 227, 237, 241–6 Carrots 78 Casualty lists  186–7 Chalke  80, 173–4, 199, 203–4, 206–7 Chalkidians (multi-polis group)  135, 141 Coinage  135n.40, 141 Chalkidike peninsula  41–2, 75–6, 130–2, 139–41, 164 Chalkis  34–8, 40–1, 47–9, 77, 83, 102, 125, 159–60 Chersonesos (Karian)  200–4 Coinage 201–2 Chersonesos (Thracian)  150, 159, 214–15 Coinage 214n.14 Chios  19, 40, 111–12, 181, 188–9, 195–6, 202–3 Chrysopolis  217, 243–4 Cleruchy  45–6, 159–61, 255 Coinage (Athenian)  184, 193–4, 209–10, 242 Congress Decree  86 Corcyra  20, 54–5, 62, 163–4 Corinth  135, 163–4 Corinthian War  91 Courts (legal)  33–4, 38–9, 81–4, 89, 188–9 Crete  23, 188 Crown  63, 104–7, 117–19, 150, 196 Cyprus  176–7, 184–6, 194–7 Dardanos 236 Daskyleion  77–8, 215–18, 233–42 Decadrachm (Athenian coinage)  184–5

General Index  295 Decrees Dating  25, 43–4, 49, 255 Definition 22–3 Empire-wide  32–3, 84–7, 91–3, 100–1 Formulaic language  42–3, 47, 51, 54–5 Hellenistic  16, 42–3, 51, 117–20, 179 Dekate (10 per cent tax)  243–6 Delos  26–7, 66, 69, 101, 111–13 Delphi 169 Demetrios Poliorketes  183 Diagoras of Rhodes  102–3, 108, 112–13, 126, 173–5 Diakres from Chalkis  77 Dikaiopolitai from Eretria  139 Dionysia festival (Athens) Delivery of tribute  30–1, 100–1 Theatrical competitions  98, 112–13, 122–6 Document relief  51, 53–4, 85, 138, 140, 169, 217 Dor (Phoenicia)  186 Doyle, Michael  12–13 Drys 83 Dynastic rulers  63, 78–9 Egesta  19, 41 Egypt  176–8, 180–7, 190–3 Hoards  182, 190–1, 193–6 Eion  134, 160 Eikoste (5 per cent tax)  67–8, 90–2, 100–1, 242 Eisphora (property tax)  84–5 Eleusis  86, 101 Elis  103, 143 Empire (definition)  12–13 Ennea Hodoi  160–3 Entrenchment clause  85–6, 92 Epigraphic restoration  25 Epiphora 80 Eretria  40–1, 83 Eteokarpathians  73–5, 110–11, 129, 199, 207–9 Erythrai  33, 81, 98–9, 111–12 Euripides  113, 195 Eurymedon 184 Evagoras of Cypriot Salamis  105–6, 148, 194–7 Coinage 195

Halikarnassos  50–1, 181 Haliakmon river  137 Halikyai 41 Hamaxitos 91–2 Hebros river  131 Hellenotamiai  2, 66, 70, 85, 87 Hellespont  80, 159, 212–16 Herakleia Pontika  225 Herms 160 Hieron 232–3 Histiaia 102 Histiaos of Miletos  129, 134, 243 Honours  35, 42–3, 50–6, 62–3, 104–8, 113–21, 140, 147–50, 166, 172, 176–80, 195–6, 206–8, 226–7, 250–1 Hospitality in council house  21–2, 35, 53, 108–9, 250–1 Hostage  36, 47–9, 52 Ialysos  173–5, 181, 203–7 Imperial apologism  6–7, 9, 11, 17 Ionian War  18, 56, 194, 203–4, 206–7, 216, 219, 236, 246 Iulis 249–50

Galepsos  157–8, 160–1 Gigonos 76 Graeco-Persian Wars  66, 133–4, 174, 216, 236 Graeco-Scythian art  222, 226–7 Grain  180, 183, 186, 189, 192, 196, 224, 244–6

Kalchedon  215, 217, 227, 243–4 Kallipolis (Propontis)  77, 237 Kamarina 19 Kamiros  173–4, 203–7 Karpathos  73–5, 129, 199, 204, 207–9 Karthaia 249–50 Kasos  74–5, 199, 207–8 Keos  64–5, 249–53 Kimon 185–6 Kios  51, 217 Kithas 76 Kition 185–6 Klazomenai  56–7, 91, 181 Klazomenians at Daphnous  50–1 Kleinias  84–6, 100 Kleon  29–31, 87–9, 107 Kleonai 78–9 Kleonymos 84–5 Knidos  181, 201–2, 206–8 Kolophon  99–100, 108–9, 116–17, 119–20 Koresia 250 Kos  102, 125, 208 Kyzikos Battle 217 Coinage  212, 219–23, 227–32, 240–2 Inscriptions 219 Weights 230–2

Haisa 76 Haison  80–1, 139

Lampsakos  216, 221–2, 227, 236 Laurion 191–2

Ferries 102 Finley, Moses  9, 13, 78–9, 244–5

296  General Index Leontinoi  41, 143 Lesbos Peraia 78 Lindos  83, 129, 173–8, 181, 203, 207–9 Linen  180, 189, 192 Lokris 162 Loryma  201, 203–4 Lykia  184, 188 Lynkestis  133, 144, 146 Macedon  58, 75–6, 78, 80–1, 103, 133, 137, 144–9 Mania of Dardanos  236 Mantineia  103, 143 Maroneia 151 Mattingly, Harold  9–10 Megabazos  129–30, 134, 215 Megara  69n.20, 78–9 Meiggs, Russell  8–9, 11, 67, 236–7 Melos  13, 19–20, 69n.21, 225 Memphis (Egypt)  185–7 Methone  34–8, 40, 42, 49–50, 58, 62, 80–1, 84–5, 100–1, 103, 136–40, 146, 224, 244–5 Coin hoard  137 Hellespontophylakes 244–5 Methymna 19 Miletopolis 237–9 Miletos  78, 81, 121, 181 Miltiades the Younger  60–1, 214n.14 Mines  69, 129, 133–4, 153–5, 157–8, 212, 240–1 Money-collecting ships  69n.17, 84–5 Myrkinos  129, 134 Mytilene  19–20, 59–60, 62, 78, 84–5, 88–9, 103, 202–3, 221–3

Prize amphorae  102–3 Procession  95–6, 98–100, 107, 112 Paros  116, 119, 152–3, 155, 160, 169 Peace of Kallias  187, 191–2, 217–18 Peace of Nikias  18, 45, 135, 140 Peisistratos  60–1, 101, 134, 159–60, 214n.14 Peithias of Corcyra  54–5, 64 Perdikkas of Macedon  36–8, 42, 75–6, 103, 133, 135, 137–9, 141, 144–6 Perikles  160–1, 189, 224–5 Persepolis  110, 234 Pharnabazos  217–18, 234–6, 239–41 Phaselis  33–4, 38–40, 49, 106, 133, 181–2, 184, 187–9, 196 Philip V (Antigonid)  117 Phoenicia  186, 189n.111, 195–6 Phokaia  181, 221–3 Phrynichos (oligarch)  54n.139, 104–5 Piraeus  78–9, 103–4, 189–90, 209–10, 247 Pistiros  131, 151, 155–6, 158 Polemarch (court official)  82–3, 188–9 Potidaia  41–2, 75–6, 135, 139, 163–4 Coinage  163–4, 190–3 Priene 114–21 Prienean Athena Polias sanctuary  115 Proedria (priority theatre seating)  107, 116, 196 Prokonnesos 212 Propontis  52, 77, 80, 212, 215, 217–18, 237 Proxeny  50–2, 54–5, 60, 64, 78–9, 108–9, 149–50, 172, 176–80, 189, 197–8, 206–7, 239, 249–50 Prusa  212–13, 234 Ptolemaic Kingdom  124, 183

Oars  145–7, 162 Oath  36, 41, 44–5, 47–9, 55–6, 142–5, 169 Odrysian Kingdom  59–60, 63, 75–6, 78, 128, 133, 149–51, 214–15 Olbia  91–2, 225, 232–3 Oligarchy at Athens  105–6, 135 Oligarchy in allied communities  63–5, 78–9, 122, 135, 166–9, 174–5 Olympic Games  103, 107 Olynthos  75–6, 141 Oropos 102

Religious belief  110–12 Republican Rome  15, 61 Rhaikelos 160 Rhegion  41, 143 Rhodes Brikindarioi 199 Coinage  173–6, 182 Diakrioi 199 Dionysia festival  121–6, 198, 210 Epigraphic culture  178–80 Oiiatai 200 Oligarchy 174–5 Pedies 200 Sub-polis settlements  173–4, 199–200 Synoecism  122, 175–8, 198, 204, 207 Rhyndakos river  237 Roman Empire  14–15, 42–3, 124n.168 Ruddle 250

Panathenaia festival Competitions  97–8, 102–3, 106, 108, 112–13

Salamis  23, 45–6, 159–60, 195 Sale (Thracian)  83

Naukratis  175, 177–8, 180–1 Neapolis (Thrace)  34, 39, 50–1, 53–4, 136–7, 153, 157–8, 164–6, 168 Nestos river  130–1 Nymphodoros of Abdera  59–60, 63, 149–50

General Index  297 Samos  33, 44, 50–1, 60, 63, 102, 105–6, 125, 181, 186–7, 194–5, 216 Samothrake  83, 86–7, 155–6 Sardis  129, 233 Saros  199, 207–8 Second Athenian Confederacy  26–7, 56–7, 67, 119–20, 122, 150–1, 249–53 Seleukid Kingdom  15–16, 42–3, 51 Selymbria  50–2, 60, 217, 227 Sicilian Expedition  18–19, 70, 90, 147, 186, 239 Sicily  89, 105–6 Sigeion  50–1, 159, 213–15, 217 Sinope  224–5, 240n.184 Siphnos 91–2 Sitalkes of Odrysian Thrace  59–60, 133, 135, 144, 149–50, 217–18 Skyros 160 Slavery 69 Smilla 76 Smyrna 91–3 Sophocles 123–4 Sparta  59, 103, 134–5, 159, 235, 239 Spartokid kings of Kimmerian Bosporos  105–6, 148–9, 224–5 Spartolos 141–2 ‘Standards decree’  84–5, 91–3, 139, 225, 232, 242 Straton of Sidon  195–6 Strymon river  129–31, 133–5, 145–6, 160–1 Sybaris  44–5, 143 Symbola (legal agreements)  33–4, 38–9 Syme  74–5, 91–2, 173–4, 199–206 Synoecism Athens 159 Chalkidike  75–6, 141 Rhodes  122, 175–8, 198, 207 Taxation  68–9, 78–9, 84–5, 90–2, 100–1, 182–3, 189–90, 192–3, 203–4, 213–14, 227 Exemption  177, 219 Telos 199 Temple treasuries  106–7 Teos 181 Thasos Coinage  134n.35, 155–6, 158, 191, 221–2

Epigraphic culture  167–70 Marble  131–2, 167 Oligarchy 166–9 Revolt  134, 156–7 Theatre 122 Wine  131, 155, 157–8, 167 Themistokles  216, 236 Timber  129–30, 137–9, 144–9, 161, 188–90, 192, 212–13, 233 Tissaphernes  174–5, 195–6, 217, 235–6, 240 Theoria  99–100, 108–9, 116 Thermaic Gulf  131, 137–9, 160–2, 164 Thoudippos  82–5, 100, 109 Thrasyboulos (Athenian general)  91, 135, 243–4 Thrasyboulos of Kalydon  104–5, 113–14 Thracian ‘tribes’  133–5, 149, 160–2 Thucydides Archaeology  18, 66, 112 Interstate relations  19–21 Kamarina Conference  19 Melian Dialogue  19–20, 64–5 Mytilene Debate  19, 59–60, 62 Omissions  18, 187 Pentekontaetia  8, 12, 18, 29, 134–5, 174, 184–7, 216 Periklean Funeral Oration  64, 95, 103–4, 189 Speeches  19–20, 62 Stasis 63–4 Thracian connection  133–4 Thucydides of Pharsalos  60 Three-bar sigma (dating)  8–10, 255 Tinde 76 Tribute quota lists The Athenian Tribute Lists  4, 8–9, 70–3, 77, 236–7 Lapis primus  2–5, 12, 23–4, 70–1 Varoufakis, Yanis  251n.14 Violence (Athenian)  16–17, 31, 49, 77–8, 249–53 Venetian Empire  14 Zone (Thracian)  83, 149