The Class Struggle in the Ancient Greek World

1 Notes  on  a  Masterpiece       Some   academic   books   are   worth   knowing   about   even   if   one   doesn’t   have   the   time  or  inclination  to  read  them.  G.  E.  M.  de  Ste.  Croix’s  The  Class  Struggle  in  the  Ancient   Greek   World,   from   the   Archaic   Age   to   the   Arab   Conquests   (1981)   is   one   of   those,   far   too   massive  and  dense  for  even  most  intelligent  laypeople  to  read  but  too  valuable  for  them   not   to   know   about.   It   is   almost   impossibly   rich,   and   deserves   to   last   as   long   as   intellectually  curious  people  exist.  For  it  does  what  very  few  historians  not  only  do  but   are   even   interested   in:   it   profoundly   explains—an   enormous   period   of   history—rather   than   simply   describes   or   “plays   with   texts” to   “uncover   new   meanings” and   “reveal   contestations” over  “discourses” that  must  then  be  “problematized” and  so  forth.  It  gets   straight   to   the   point   unpretentiously,   determined   to   make   1400   years   of   history   comprehensible   on   the   basis   of   a   few   simple   concepts.   And   what   are   those   concepts?   Marxist  ones,  of  course.  Class,  class  struggle,  and  exploitation.  Even  if  one  hadn’t  read  a   single   other   Marxist   work,   this   book   would   have   to   convince   one   of   the   value   of   Marxian  methods—as  it  did  many  mainstream  classicists  when  it  was  published,  who   reviewed  it  rapturously  even  when  they  had  criticisms.     Since   the   application   of   Marxism   to   antiquity   was   virtually   unknown   when   the   book  was  published,  being  considered  anachronistic,  as  if  classes  hadn’t  really  existed   then—a   transparently   ideological   fantasy,   but   an   understandably   popular   one   in   a   capitalist   society   characterized   by   institutional   (academic)   fragmentation   and   the   subordination  of  intellectuals  to  bourgeois  habits  of  thought1—Ste.  Croix  has  to  devote   some  of  the  book  to  analysis  of  his  main  concepts.  They’re  fairly  intuitive.  An  economic   surplus  is  “that  part  of  an  individual’s  labor  of  which  he  does  not  directly  enjoy  the  fruit   himself,   and   the   immediate   benefits   of   which   are   reserved   for   others   [such   as   the   capitalist,  the  slaveowner,  or  the  landowner].” The  other  key  concepts  are  as  follows:       Class  (essentially   a   relationship)   is   the   collective   social   expression   of   the   fact   of  exploitation,  the  way  in  which  exploitation  is  embodied  in  a  social  structure.   By   exploitation   I   mean   the   appropriation   of   part   of   the   product   of   the   labor   of    As   Ste.   Croix   says,   in   criticism   of   historians   who   reject   “all   this   theoretical   stuff,   about   class   structures   and   social   relations   and   historical   method,”   “it   is   a   serious   error   to   suppose   that   unconsciousness   of   ideology,   or   even   a   complete   lack   of   interest   in   it,   is   the   same   thing   as   absence  of  ideology.  In  reality  each  of  us  has  an  ideological  approach  to  history,  resulting  in  a   particular   historical   methodology   and   set   of   general   concepts,   whether   conscious   or   unconscious.  To  refuse—as  so  many  do—to  define  or  even  to  think  about  the  basic  concepts  we   employ  simply  results  in  our  taking  over  without  scrutiny,  lock,  stock  and  barrel,  the  prevailing   ideology  in  which  we  happen  to  have  been  brought  up…”  (p.  34).   1 2 others   [i.e.,   the   surplus]:   in   a   commodity-­‐‑producing   society   this   is   the   appropriation  of  what  Marx  called  “surplus  value.”     A  class  (a  particular  class)  is  a  group  of  persons  in  a  community  identified  by   their  position  in  the  whole  system  of  social  production,  defined  above  all  by  their   relationship   (primarily   in   terms   of   the   degree   of   ownership   or   control)   to   the   conditions  of  production  (that  is  to  say,  the  means  and  labor  of  production)  and   to  other  classes…     It  is  of  the  essence  of  a  class  society  that  one  or  more  of  the  smaller  classes,  in   virtue   of   their   control   over   the   conditions   of   production   (most   commonly   exercised   through   ownership   of   the   means   of   production),   will   be   able   to   exploit—that   is,   to   appropriate   a   surplus   at   the   expense   of—the   larger   classes,   and   thus   constitute   an   economically   and   socially   (and   therefore   probably   also   politically)   superior   class   or   classes.   The   exploitation   may   be   direct   and   individual,  as  for  example  of  wage-­‐‑laborers,  slaves,  serfs,  “coloni,” tenant-­‐‑farmers   or   debtors   by   particular   employers,   masters,   landlords   or   moneylenders,   or   it   may   be   indirect   and   collective,   as   when   taxation,   military   conscription,   forced   labor  or  other  services  are  exacted  solely  or  disproportionately  from  a  particular   class  or  classes  (small  peasant  freeholders,  for  instance)  by  a  State  dominated  by   a  superior  class.     I   use   the   expression   class   struggle   for   the   fundamental   relationship   between   classes   (and   their   respective   individual   members),   involving   essentially   exploitation,  or  resistance  to  it.  It  does  not  necessarily  involve  collective  action  by   a   class   as   such,   and   it   may   or   may   not   include   activity   on   a   political   plane,   although  such  political  activity  becomes  increasingly  probable  when  the  tension   of  class  struggle  becomes  acute…     Imperialism,  involving  some  kind  of  economic  and/or  political  subjection  to  a   power  outside  the  community,  is  a  special  case,  in  which  the  exploitation  effected   by  the  imperial  power  (in  the  form  of  tribute,  for  instance),  or  by  its  individual   members,   need   not   necessarily   involve   direct   control   of   the   conditions   of   production.   In   such   a   situation,   however,   the   class   struggle   within   the   subject   community   is   very   likely   to   be   affected,   for   example   through   support   given   by   the   imperial   power   or   its   agents   to   the   exploiting   class   or   classes   within   that   community,   if   not   by   the   acquisition   by   the   imperial   power   or   its   individual   members  of  control  over  the  conditions  of  production  in  the  subject  community.2    The   twentieth-­‐‑century   policies   of   the   U.S.   government   with   respect   to   Latin   America   are   an   excellent   instance   of   both   of   these   examples.   When   it   (or   members   of   its   ruling   class)   didn’t   simply  take  control  of  property  and  the  means  of  production,  the  U.S.  regularly  propped  up  the   ruling  classes.   2 3   Doubtless   some   academic   would   quibble   with   these   definitions,   but   one   could   make   them  more  precise  and  perfectly  defensible.  The  most  controversial  one  would  be  that   of   class   struggle,   since   it   doesn’t   refer   to   class   consciousness   or   explicit   struggle.   The   struggle   can   be,   and   usually   is,   only   implicit.   That   seems   reasonable   to   me,   in   part   because  people  among  the  exploited  classes  are  constantly  resisting  or  objecting  to  their   position  in  small  or  large  ways—and  so  actually  the  struggle  is  continually  explicit,  on   an  individual  level  if  not  a  collective  one—but  also  because  logically  there  is  a  struggle,   a  clash,  of  interests  between  the  exploiters  and  the  exploited.  The  former’s  interest  lies   in   extracting   a   greater   surplus,   the   latter’s   in   decreasing   the   size   of   the   surplus   extracted.3     On  this  understanding,  Marx’s  frequently  ridiculed  dictum  is  right:  the  history  of   all   hitherto   existing   complex   societies   is   the   history   of   class   struggle.   In   fact,   this   isn’t   only  because  class  antagonism  (struggle)  is  present  in  all  of  them;  more  importantly,  it’s   because   the   class   structure   is   the   foundation   of   institutional   structures   in   general,   and   thus  of  the  framework  within  which  people  live  and  interact.  Why  can  it  be  called  the   foundation?   Simply   because   people   in   the   dominant   positions   of   the   class   structure   directly   appropriate—necessarily—a   sufficient   surplus   to   ensure   their   continued   domination  (i.e.,  to  give  them  the  resources  with  which  to  continue  their  domination),   and   this   means   they   have   the   resources   to   ensure   that   most   other   institutions   and   practices   are   compatible   with   or   subservient   to   their   power.   They   are   the   people   and   groups  with  the  most  wealth  and  resources,  and  so,  obviously,  they  are  better  able  than   others   to   dictate   what   forms   society   and   culture   will   take.   This   truism   is   enough   to   establish   the   controversial   but   utterly   obvious   Marxian   metaphor   that   the   economic   structure,   or   class   structure,   is   society’s   foundation,   the   “superstructure” (in   a   loose   sense)  being  politics,  culture,  and  ideology.  –In  short,  the  institutions  and  people  with   the   most   resources   have   the   most   influence   in   determining   the   forms   and   content   of   social  life.     Class   struggle   is   central   to   history   in   still   more   ways;   for   instance,   virtually   by   analytical   necessity   it   has   been,   directly   or   indirectly,   the   main   cause   of   most   popular    Tellingly,  throughout  history  dominant  classes  have  had  a  high  degree  of  class  consciousness,   usually  being  much  more  aware  of,  and  prepared  to  act  on,  their  unity  of  interest  than  exploited   classes.  Just  read  the  publications  of  business  groups  in  the  U.S.  during  the  last  hundred  years,   and   think   of   their   highly   coordinated   public   relations   campaigns   to   secure   the   population’s   (passive)   consent   and   extract   its   money.   Something   similar   was   the   case   over   two   thousand   years   ago:   Xenophon   writes   of   slaveowners   being   prepared   to   act   “as   unpaid   bodyguards   of   each   other   against   their   slaves.”   Ironically,   then,   the   “struggle”   has   typically   been   more   full-­‐‑ fledged  and  conscious  on  the  side  of  the  oppressors  than  the  oppressed.   3 4 resistance  and  rebellions.  Likewise,  the  ideologies  and  cultures  of  the  lower  classes  have   been  in  large  measure  sublimations  of  class  interest  and  conflict.  Most  wars,  too,  have   been   undertaken   so   that   rulers   (effectively   the   ruling   class)   could   gain   control   over   resources,   which   is   sort   of   the   class   struggle   by   other   means.   Wars   grow   out   of   class   dynamics,  and  are  intended  to  benefit  the  rich  and  powerful.  In  any  case,  the  very  tasks   of   survival   in   complex   societies   are   structured   by   class   antagonisms,   which   determine   who  gets  what  resources  when  and  in  what  ways.     –Duh.     From   such   reflections   as   these   one   should   already   suspect   that   materialist   class   analysis  will  have  to  be  the  basis  for  any  explanation  of  history.  Certainly  many  other   factors   must   come   into   play,   but   class   is   the   fundamental   one.   It   gives   societies   their   overall  dynamics  and  provides  most  of  the  context  for  what  goes  on  in  them.  In  fact,  it   “discloses   the   real   secrets   of   history:   the   springs   and   causes   of   human   behavior   and   social  change.” The  best  proof  of  its  value  as  a  historical  and  sociological  concept  is  its   fruitfulness;  for  it  has  made  possible  an  immense  amount  of  brilliant  scholarship  since   the  nineteenth  century,  which  totally  eclipses  any  other  school  of  thought.     Ste.  Croix  argues  that  there  are  two  fundamental  differences  between  the  ancient   world   and   the   modern:   first,   the   former   had   infinitely   more   primitive   technology.   It   didn’t  even  have  the  wheelbarrow!  Since  it  was,  therefore,  enormously  less  productive   than  our  own  world  is,  some  means  had  to  be  found—unless  everyone  was  to  have  to   work   practically   all   the   time—to   extract   the   largest   possible   surplus   out   of   a   considerable   number   of   those   at   the   bottom   of   society.   So,   in   order   to   have   cities   and   aristocratic   leisure   and   so   forth,   the   propertied   classes   in   Greece   and   Rome   had   to   derive  their  surplus  not  from  wage-­‐‑labor,  as  in  capitalist  society,  but  from  unfree  labor   of   various   kinds.   (Nor   was   wage-­‐‑labor   plentifully   available   anyway,   or   very   skilled.)   This  is  the  second  fundamental  difference.  The  ancient  world  had  debt  bondage  and  a   kind  of  serfdom,  as  we’ll  see,  but  the  most  important  form  of  unfree  labor  was  slavery— including  in  agriculture,  which  is  (wrongly)  denied  by  some  classicists.  It’s  true  that  a   large   part   of   production   was   done   by   small   free   producers,   mainly   peasants   but   also   artisans  and  traders.  Nevertheless,  Ste.  Croix  goes  so  far  as  to  call  the  Greek  and  Roman   world  a  slave-­‐‑owning  society  or  a  slave  economy,  because  it  was  through  slavery  that   the  dominant  propertied  class—landowners—ensured  the  extraction  of  the  surplus  they   needed  for  their  own  leisured  existence.  This  is  the  key  point,  and  it  is  why  Marx  said   slavery   was   the   foundation   of   the   ancient   world   even   though   most   production—until   the   later   Roman   empire—was   done   by   relatively   free   peasants   and   some   artisans.   Incidentally,   these   classes   too   were   exploited   in   various   ways,   as   by   taxation,   military   conscription,  or  forced  services  exacted  by  the  state.     In   support   of   his   own   class-­‐‑based   interpretation   of   antiquity,   Ste.   Croix   points   out  that  it  was  substantially  shared  by  Aristotle.  (He  also  inserts  a  few  jabs  at  Plato,  the   anti-­‐‑Aristotle.  “The  wildly  exaggerated  respect  which  has  been  paid  down  the  ages  to   5 Plato’s  political  thought  is  partly  due  to  his  remarkable  literary  genius  and  to  the  anti-­‐‑ democratic  instincts  of  the  majority  of  scholars.  Plato  was  anti-­‐‑democratic  in  the  highest   degree.”)  “Like  so  many  other  Greeks,  Aristotle  regarded  a  man’s  economic  position  as   the  decisive  factor  in  influencing  his  behavior  in  politics,  as  in  other  fields.” Evidently   he   had   common   sense.   He   understood   that   the   rich   property-­‐‑owners   (landowners)   wanted   pure   oligarchy   and   the   poor   extreme   democracy;   he   preferred   the   middle   layers,   who   because   of   their   moderate   amount   of   property   tended   to   be   moderate   in   opinions   and   behavior.   (Proto-­‐‑Marxism.)   Interestingly,   he   remarks   that   in   some   oligarchical   city-­‐‑states   of   his   day,   the   oligarchically-­‐‑minded   take   the   oath,   “I   will   bear   ill-­‐‑will  towards  the  common  people,  and  I  will  plan  against  them  all  the  evil  I  can.” A   refreshingly   honest   oath.   Other   Greek   thinkers,   too,   understood   these   categories.   Euripides  says  in  one  play  that  there  are  three  kinds  of  people:  “the  greedy  and  useless   rich;   the   covetous   poor,   easily   led   astray   by   scurvy   demagogues;   and   ‘those   in   the   middle,’ who  can  be  the  salvation  of  the  city.” Essentially  the  reason  why  Aristotle  and   later  thinkers  favored  a  “mixed  constitution” in  which  there  is  a  balance  between  rich   and   poor   is   that   this   was   a   way   of   ensuring   a   balance   in   the   political   class   struggle.   – Much  of  what  Aristotle  says  in  the  Politics  clearly  influenced  James  Madison  and  others   of   our   “Founding   Fathers,” as   shown   by   the   proto-­‐‑Marxism   and   Golden   Mean-­‐‑ism   of   passages  in  the  Federalist  Papers,  as  well  as  in  correspondence  they  wrote  to  each  other.     Not  only  does  Aristotle  tend  to  think  in  terms  of  class  struggle;  he  even  identifies   groups   defined   according   to   their   role   in   production,   namely   working   farmers,   independent  artisans,  traders,  and  wage-­‐‑laborers.  And  he  understands  that  city-­‐‑states’ constitutions   will   be   of   different   types   according   to   the   relative   strength   of   these   different  elements.  No  wonder  Marx  loved  him!  It’s  clear,  in  any  event,  that  the  notion   of  class  is  relevant  to  ancient  society  and  was  acknowledged  to  be  so  by  many  thinkers   of  the  time  (including  even  Plato).     Next   is   a   long   discussion   about   why   class   is   not   only   relevant   but   more   useful   than   alternative   notions   like   status   and   “orders” (e.g.,   citizens,   freedmen,   the   Roman   senatorial   order,   equestrians,   and   resident   foreigners.   Orders   were   very   important   in   the  ancient  world,  as,  indeed,  in  Europe’s  Middle  Ages).  Many  criticisms  can  be  given   of  Max  Weber’s  emphasis  on  status  as  opposed  to  class—and  of  his  notion  of  class  itself,   which  is  vague  and  has  more  to  do  with  market  relations  and  income  than  relations  of   production   (which   are   surely   what   provide   the   main   explanation   for   people’s   market   position  and  income  anyway;  see  Erik  Olin  Wright)—but  Ste.  Croix’s  main  one  is  that   Weberian   “status   groups” and   even   “classes” have   no   organic   relationship   with   one   another,   “and   consequently   they   are   not   dynamic   in   character   but   merely   lie   side   by   side,  so  to  speak,  like  numbers  in  a  row.” Marxian  classes  are  defined  by  their  relations   to   other   classes;   the   members   of   a   Weberian   class   or   status   group   have   no   necessary   relationship  to  the  members  of  another  class  or  status  group  as  such.  It’s  hard  to  explain   social  change  on  the  basis  of  this  static,  atomistic  and  inorganic  conception,  whereas  it’s   6 much   easier   on   the   Marxian   conception   (of   irreconcilable   interests,   antagonistic   production   relations,   and   so   forth).   Of   course   status   groups   can   be   very   important   to   people’s  lives  and  the  overall  character  of  a  society,  and  even  to  some  political  conflicts;4   on  the  whole,  though,  they’re  more  useful  for  description  than  explanation.  This  is  one  of   the  reasons  for  Ste.  Croix’s  criticisms  of  the  famous  classicist  Moses  Finley,  who  had  less   interest  in  classes  than  status  groups.     Ste.  Croix’s  discussion  of  women  is  much  less  satisfactory  than  his  discussion  of   class  vs.  status,  for  he  argues  that  women  in  antiquity  constituted  their  own  social  class.   Which   is   absurd.   To   broaden   the   concept   of   production   so   that   it   includes   biological   reproduction  is  to  render  it  almost  meaningless.  Nor  is  an  economic  surplus  necessarily   appropriated  by  men,  as  such,  from  women,  as  such.  Sure,  the  latter  are  dominated  and   subordinated,   but   that   is   quite   different   from   exploitation   in   the   technical   sense.   The   realm   of   biology   shouldn’t   be   confused   with   the   realm   of   economic   production,   to   which   sex   is   an   external   consideration,   however   much   women   may   occupy   particular   positions   in   the   relations   of   production   (even   sometimes   as   women—but   then   they’re   exploited  as  a  result  of  their  location  in  the  economic  structure,  not  directly  as  a  result  of   having  vaginas  and  ovaries).       Let’s  get  to  the  non-­‐‑methodological  stuff.  The  leisured,  propertied  class  (almost   entirely  landed  property)—a  tiny  minority—of  course  was  differentiated  into  the  more   or   less   wealthy,   those   who   owned   more   or   less   property   and   therefore   slaves.   Some   examples:  “the  owner  of  a  large  or  even  medium-­‐‑sized  farm,  worked  by  slaves  under  a   slave  bailiff,  or  leased  out  at  a  rent;  the  proprietor  of  a  workshop  of,  say,  20–50  slaves,   supervised   by   a   slave   manager;   the   lessee   of   mines   in   the   Laurium   district   of   Attica,   worked   by   slaves,   and   similarly   supervised   by   a   manager   who   would   himself   be   a   slave;   the   owner   of   a   merchant   ship   or   two   which   he   hired   out   to   traders   or   used   for   trading  himself,  manning  them  with  slaves…” Lots  of  slaves.  Though  also  other  kinds   of   unfree   labor,   as   Ste.   Croix   emphasizes.   Greece   was   actually   rather   poor,   though,   as   were   its   great   landowners,   compared   to   Persia   and   later   Rome.   The   great   Roman   senators   of   the   Empire   were   astoundingly   wealthy;   next   to   them,   Greece’s   aristocrats   were  petty  stuff.  The  Roman  Empire,  or  rather  its  ruling  class,  swam  in  wealth.     As   in   many   later   societies,   the   landed   aristocracy   sneered   at   people   who   had   gained   their   wealth   from   trade   or   manufactures.   Leisure   was   the   mark   of   the   gentleman.   And   these   value-­‐‑judgments   were   to   some   degree   shared   by   most   of   the   population:  “the  ideas  of  a  dominant  class  (at  least  if  it  is  not  a  conquering,  alien  race)    But  in  many  such  conflicts  class  interests  are  very  relevant,  perhaps  in  complex  ways,  even  if   at  first  glance  they  don’t  seem  to  be.  They  frequently  are  disguised  behind,  and  help  determine,   the   overt   issues.   See   Marx’s   Eighteenth   Brumaire   of   Louis   Bonaparte   and   The   Class   Struggles   in   France.   4 7 are   always   accepted   in   some   measure   by   those   it   exploits,   and   most   of   all   (as   modern   experience   shows)   by   those   who   are   near   the   top   level   of   the   exploited   and   see   themselves  as  about  to  rise  into  the  ruling  class.  And  most  of  the  words  used  in  Greek   to   express   social   qualities   and   distinctions   were   heavily   loaded   with   the   moral   overtones  that  had  always  been  associated  with  them  [e.g.,  that  being  a  tradesman  was   demeaning],  so  that  the  poorer  Greek  would  find  it  hard  to  avoid  expressing  himself  in   the   very   terms   that   proclaimed   his   unworthiness.” The   very   vocabulary   that   societies   use  is  inflected  with  class,  partly  determined  by  it.     Slavery   and   forced   labor,   serfdom,   and   debt   bondage   were   widespread   in   the   ancient   world,   the   former   three   usually   resulting   from   conquest   (except   in   the   later   Roman   empire,   when   serfdom   emerged   more   organically).   Athens   was   unusual   in   at   least  one  respect:  Solon  abolished  debt  bondage  in  594  B.C.,  a  truly  radical  reform.  The   ancients  themselves  divided  mankind  into  only  two  categories,  slave  and  free,  but  there   were  in  fact  many  intermediate  statuses.  Athens  made  especially  intense  use  of  slavery,   despite—but   also   because   of—its   democracy.   That’s   ironic,   but   it   was   because   of   democracy   that   the   upper   class   couldn’t   exploit   the   humbler   citizens   to   the   degree   it   could  in  other  places,  so  it  had  to  rely  exceptionally  on  rights-­‐‑less  slaves.5 “This  [class-­‐‑ based   hypothesis]   explains  ‘the   advance,   hand   in   hand,   of   freedom   and   slavery’ in   the   Greek   world,   noted   by   Finley   but   left   by   him   as   a   kind   of   paradox,   entirely   without   explanation” (because   Finley   doesn’t   like   to   invoke   class).   Democracy   can   cause   the   intensification   of   slavery,   and   slavery   can   help   make   possible   democracy—for   some   people.  Fascinating!       Why   weren’t   there   more   slave   revolts,   if   there   were   so   many   slaves?   Mainly   because  slaves  in  each  city,  and  often  even  in  single  families  and  farms  and  workshops,   were  largely  imported  “barbarians” and  very  heterogeneous  in  character,  coming  from   South  Russia,  Thrace,  Lydia,  parts  of  Asia  Minor,  Egypt,  Sicily,  Libya,  etc.  They  didn’t   have   a   common   language   or   culture.   “The   desirability   of   choosing   slaves   of   different   nationalities   and   languages   was   well   recognized   in   antiquity,   and   it   is   stressed   by   several   Greek   and   Roman   writers   as   an   indispensable   means   of   preventing   revolts.” Yes,   the   old   trick   of   divide-­‐‑and-­‐‑conquer,   used   to   fantastic   effect   by   modern   capitalists   when   trying   to   maintain   control   over   their   work   force.   Most   techniques   of   power   are   timeless.     Serfdom  was  much  less  common  than  slavery  in  the  Greek  world:  before  the  late   Roman   empire   there   were   only   isolated   local   forms   of   it,   for   instance   the   Helots   of   Sparta,   and   on   temple   estates   in   Hellenistic   Asia   Minor.   (This   serfdom   on   sacred   land    As  Ste.  Croix  says,  insofar  as  democracy  gave  the  poor  some  power,  it  “played  a  vital  part  in   the   class   struggle   by   mitigating   the   exploitation   of   poorer   citizens   by   richer   ones—a   fact   that   seldom  receives  the  emphasis  it  deserves.”   5 8 was  probably  a  residue  of  forms  of  serfdom  that  had  earlier  been  widespread  in  Asia.)   “It  is  essential  to  realize,  however,  that  these  [west  Asian]  forms  of  serfdom  tended  to   dissolve   as   a   result   of   contact   with   the   more   advanced   Greek   and   Roman   economy   (above   all,   no   doubt,   when   the   land   came   into   the   ownership   or   under   the   control   of   Greeks  or  hellenized  natives  or  of  Romans),  and  after  a  few  generations  virtually  ceased   to   exist,   except   as   part   of   very   conservative   complexes   such   as   temple   estates… Until   the   introduction   of   the   Later   Roman   colonate,   serfdom   failed   to   maintain   itself   in   the   Greek   world   (or   in   the   rest   of   the   Roman   empire),   and   when   it   disappeared   in   a   particular   area,   there   is   no   sign   that   it   was   re-­‐‑established.” But   in   various   places,   like   Ptolemaic   Egypt,   even   some   non-­‐‑serf   peasants   (who   weren’t   tied   to   the   land)   were   subject  to  very  strict  controls  and  supervision.  In  cases  where  serfdom  disappeared  after   coming  into  contact  with  Greeks  and  Romans,  some  of  the  peasants  sank  even  further,   into   slavery,   whereas   in   other   places   they   became   freer,   like   if   their   territory   was   incorporated  into  a  city.     “It   was   only   at   the   end   of   the   third   century   A.D.   that   legislation   began   to   be   introduced,   subjecting   to   forms   of   legal   serfdom   the   whole   working   agricultural   population   of   the   Graeco-­‐‑Roman   world.   In   outline,   leasehold   tenants   (coloni)   became   serfs,  bound  either  to  their  actual  farms  or  plots  or  to  their  villages  and  almost  as  much   subject   to   their   landlords   as   were   slaves   to   their   masters,   even   though   they   remained   technically  ingenui,  free  men  rather  than  slaves;  working  peasant  freeholders  too  were   tied,   to   their   villages.” Later   in   the   book   he’ll   give   explanations   for   this   and   other   changes   from   the   Archaic   Age   to   the   late   Empire.   For   now,   he’s   just   describing   the   whole  socioeconomic  framework.     As  for  debt  bondage,  it  is  “virtually  certain  that  forms  of  [it]  existed  at  all  times  in   the   great   majority   of   Greek   cities.” David   Graeber   demonstrates   the   profound   significance  of  debt  to  the  ancient  world  in  his  book  Debt:  The  First  5000  Years  (on  which   I’ve   commented   in   Finding   Our   Compass:   Reflections   on   a   World   in   Crisis).   The   consequence  of  defaulting  on  a  debt  in  Greek  cities  might  be  enslavement  or  the  sale  of   one’s   children.   “In   Ptolemaic   Egypt,   there   is   clear   evidence   both   for   outright   enslavement  for  debt  and  for  debt  bondage;  but  in  the  Roman  period  the  latter  seems  to   have  replaced  the  former.  It  is  difficult  to  generalize  about  Greek  cities,  but  it  does  look   as   if   debt   bondage   largely   superseded   outright   enslavement   for   debt   during   the   Hellenistic  period.” In  early  Roman  law,  the  position  of  the  defaulting  debtor  was  even   worse.   “His   creditors   might   keep   him   in   chains;   and   ultimately…they   might   cut   his   body   in   pieces   and   divide   the   parts   among   themselves.” Lovely.   It   was   clearly   a   rosy   time  to  live.  “The  wealthy  Roman  regarded  a  defaulting  debtor  who  had  been  driven  to   borrow   because   of   dire   need,   rather   than   for   some   speculative   or   luxurious   purpose,   almost  as  a  kind  of  criminal.” What  a  surprise,  this  class  prejudice  against  the  poor.  In   general,   the   Roman   state   and   its   law,   like   all   states   (to   greater   or   lesser   degrees),   was   9 “an   instrument   of   the   propertied   classes;   for   the   propertyless,   the   state   ‘couldn’t   care   less.’”     Hired   labor   was   less   common   than   both   slavery   and,   surely,   debt   bondage;   its   first   major   appearance   in   antiquity   was   in   the   form   of   mercenaries,   though   it   was   probably   common   at   the   peak   periods   of   agricultural   activity   (harvesting,   vintage,   olive-­‐‑picking)   and   may   have   been   used   for   public   works   in   Greek   cities.   Artisans,   contractors,   shopkeepers,   and   others   must   have   occasionally   hired   workers   too.   The   position  of  these  wage-­‐‑earners  was  considered  contemptible.  Plato  and  Aristotle  placed   them  at  the  bottom  of  the  social  scale,  and  their  attitude  was  shared  by  pretty  much  the   whole   propertied   class.   For   Aristotle,   “there   could   be   no   civilized   existence   for   men   who   did   not   have   leisure,   which   was   a   necessary   condition   (though   not   of   course   a   sufficient   condition)   for   becoming   a   good   and   competent   citizen,   and   indeed   was   the   goal  (telos)  of  labor,  as  peace  was  of  war… The  overriding  necessity  for  leisure  excludes   the   citizens   of   Aristotle’s   ideal   State   from   all   forms   of   work,   even   farming,   not   to   mention  craftsmanship… The  essential  fact  which,  in  Aristotle’s  eyes,  makes  the  hired   man   a   less   worthy   figure   than   the   ordinary   artisan   is   not   so   much   his   comparative   poverty   (for   many   independent   artisans   are   likely   to   be   poor   too)   but   his   ‘slavish’ dependence   upon   his   employer.” This   attitude   has   been   shared   by   many   elites   throughout   history,   for   instance   eighteenth-­‐‑century   aristocrats   like   Thomas   Jefferson   and   all   his   fellow   republicans.   The   propertyless   were   supposed   to   be   excluded   from   voting  because  of  their  lack  of  independence  and  consequent  inability  to  act  and  think   in   a   properly   “disinterested,” public-­‐‑spirited   republican   way.   They   were   essentially   appendages  of  their  employer.  Interestingly,  the  “labor  republicanism” exemplified  by   the  Knights  of  Labor  in  the  1880s  (in  the  U.S.)  had  a  similar  outlook,  considering  wage-­‐‑ labor   (“wage-­‐‑slavery”)   to   be   undignified,   unmanly,   a   kind   of   degradation   that   interfered  with  the  rights  and  duties  of  citizenship.  The  conclusion  they  drew,  though,   as   did   many   other   workers   before   them,   was   quite   different   from   that   of   the   classical   republicans:   wage-­‐‑labor   had   to   be   abolished   and   a   cooperative   commonwealth   established.  “There  is  an  inevitable  conflict  between  the  wage-­‐‑system  of  labor  and  the   republican   system   of   government,” as   one   of   them   said.   It   seems   that   only   in   the   twentieth   century,   when   the   wage-­‐‑system   had   finally   unequivocally   conquered   the   Western  world,  was  wage-­‐‑labor,  for  the  first  time  ever,  seen  to  be  necessary  and  even   good,   not   degrading.   An   idea   that   would   have   been   utterly   incomprehensible   to   all   previous  ruling  classes  and  most  of  their  subordinates.6    On  these  topics,  see,  e.g.,  Gordon  Wood,  The  Radicalism  of  the  American  Revolution  (New  York:   A.   A.   Knopf,   1992);   and   Alex   Gourevitch,   “Wage-­‐‑Slavery   and   Republican   Liberty,”   Jacobin,   February  28,  2013.   6 10   Even   Kant,   the   philosopher   who   thought   of   humans   as   rational   animals   above   all,  had  the  inegalitarian  attitude  of  his  contemporaries.  As  Ste.  Croix  says,  he  “wished   to  confine  the  franchise  to  those  who  were  their  own  masters  and  had  some  property  to   support  them.  A  man  who  ‘earned  his  living  from  others’ could  be  allowed  to  qualify  as   a   citizen,   in   Kant’s   eyes,   only   if   he   earned   it   ‘by   selling   that   which   is   his,   and   not   by   allowing   others   to   make   use   of   him.’… In   a   work   published   four   years   later   Kant   returned   to   this   theme…giving   four   examples   of   excluded   categories   which   ‘do   not   possess   civil   independence,’ such   as   apprentices,   servants,   minors   and   women,   who   may  ‘demand  to  be  treated  by  all  others  in  accordance  with  laws  of  natural  freedom  and   equality’ but   should   have   no   right   to   participate   in   making   the   laws.” Such   attitudes   aren’t  entirely  without  merit  in  the  context  of  the  unequal,  oppressive,  and  dependency-­‐‑ producing  social  structures  of  his  day;  but  the  proper  conclusion  to  draw  is  that  those   social   structures   have   to   be   eliminated,   not   that   the   majority   of   the   people   shouldn’t   participate  in  civic  life.     As  I  said,  public  works  may  have,  from  time  to  time,  been  an  important  source  of   employment   for   unskilled   wage-­‐‑earners,   but   there   isn’t   a   lot   of   evidence   for   this.   Contractors   (probably   hiring   general   laborers   but   also   using   slaves)   did   most   of   the   work,  and  they  don’t  qualify  as  wage-­‐‑earners  properly  so-­‐‑called.  Even  in  Rome,  which   must  have  had  the  highest  concentration  of  free  men,  including  freedmen,  in  the  whole   Graeco-­‐‑Roman   world,   there   is   no   evidence   for   regular   hired   labor   of   any   kind.   “A   certain   proportion   of   the   free   poor   lived   to   some   extent   on   handouts   provided   by   wealthy  families  whose  clients  they  were—thus  bringing  themselves  within  ‘the  sound   section  of  the  populace,  attached  to  the  great  houses,’ whom  Tacitus,  in  his  patronizing   way,   contrasts   favorably   with   the   plebs   sordida,   frequenting   (in   his   picture)   the   circus   and  theaters.  But  the  great  majority  of  the  plebs  urbana  must  have  been  shopkeepers  or   traders,  skilled  craftsmen  (or  at  least  semi-­‐‑skilled  artisans),  or  transport-­‐‑workers  using   ox-­‐‑carts,  asses  or  mules  [who  weren’t  wage-­‐‑laborers  but  worked  for  customers].”     Having   discussed   direct   individual   exploitation,   Ste.   Croix   turns   to   indirect   collective  exploitation—as  well  as  the  exploitation  (mostly  of  peasants)  by  landlords  and   mortgagees  that  took  the  form  of  rent  or  interest.  He  mentions  that  Marx  anticipated  his   distinction  between  the  two  kinds  of  exploitation  when  he  wrote,  in  The  Class  Struggles   in  France,  of  the  French  peasants  of  his  day  that  “Their  exploitation  differs  only  in  form   from  the  exploitation  of  the  industrial  proletariat.  The  exploiter  is  the  same:  capital.  The   individual   capitalists   exploit   the   individual   peasants   through   mortgages  and   usury;   the   capitalist  class  exploits  the  peasant  class  through  the  State  taxes.” It  occurs  to  me  that  the   exploitative   function   of   taxes   isn’t   true   only   of   peasants   and   the   poor   in   old   times;   to   some  extent  it  applies  even  to  our  own  day.  Insofar  as  the  poor  and  middle  classes  don’t   get  a  useful  return  on  their  taxes,  they’re  effectively  being  exploited.  (Surplus  is  being   taken  from  them  without  an  equivalent  being  given  back:  hence,  exploitation.)  However   much  of  the  money  they  give  to  the  government  that  goes  to  paying  for  wars,  interest   11 payments   on   debt   to   the   rich,   corporate   welfare,   etc.   rather   than   to   improvements   in   public  education  and  transportation,  roads,  environmental  protection  (for  their  children   at  least),  social  insurance  and  so  forth  amounts  to  a  kind  of  exploitation.  It  is  indirect,   publicly  sanctioned,  collective  exploitation.       Taxation  in  Greek  cities  before  the  Hellenistic  period  may  often  have  been  quite   light,   “if   only   because   the   lack   of   anything   resembling   a   modern   civil   service   made   it   difficult   if   not   impossible   to   collect   small   sums   in   taxes   profitably   from   poor   people   (that  is  to  say,  from  the  great  majority  of  the  population),  without  the  intervention  of  tax   farmers,  who  seem  to  have  been  very  unpopular  with  all  classes… The  total  burden  of   taxation   certainly   increased   in   the   Hellenistic   and   Roman   periods,” especially   in   the   Later  Roman  empire,  when  it  fell  most  heavily  on  the  peasantry,  who  had  least  power   to  resist.  As  in  our  own  day  and  throughout  history,  the  rich  had  a  much  greater  chance   of  escaping  or  minimizing  payment  than  the  poor.       So,   what   was   the   situation   of   the   peasantry?   Before   delving   into   it   Ste.   Croix   gives   a   beautiful   tribute   to   these   poor   people,   the   vast   majority   of   humanity   in   most   periods  of  history,  that  I  can’t  help  quoting:     To   my   mind,   the   most   profound   and   moving   representation   in   art   of   “the   peasant” is  Vincent  Van  Gogh’s  The  Potato  Eaters… As  Vincent  himself  said,  in  a   letter   to   his   brother   Theo,   written   while   the   picture   was   still   being   painted,   “I   have  tried  to  emphasize  that  those  people,  eating  their  potatoes  in  the  lamplight,   have  dug  the  earth  with  those  very  hands  they  put  in  the  dish,  and  so  it  speaks  of   manual   labor,   and   how   they   have   honestly   earned   their   food.   I   have   wanted   to   give   the   impression   of   a   way   of   life   quite   different   from   that   of   us   civilized   people.” …The   quality   that   impresses   one   most   about   Van   Gogh’s   peasants   is   their   endurance,   their   solidity,   like   that   of   the   earth   from   which   they   draw   just   sufficient  sustenance  to  maintain  life… The  Potato  Eaters  are  poor,  but  they  are   not  evidently  miserable:  even  if  the  artist  shows  infinite  sympathy  with  them,  he   depicts   in   them   no   trace   of   self-­‐‑pity.   These   are   the   voiceless   toilers,   the   great   majority—let  us  not  forget  it—of  the  population  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  world,   upon  whom  was  built  a  great  civilization  that  despised  them  and  did  all  it  could   to  forget  them.     The   lot   of   the   ancient   peasant   wasn’t   much   more   pleasant   than   it’s   been   at   any   other   time   in   history.   I   won’t   go   into   detail,   but   some   indication   is   given   by   the   fact   that,   similar  to  the  case  in  medieval  Europe  (regarding  the  protection  afforded  by  exploiting   lords),   being   subject   to   a   landlord   could   actually   be   preferable   to   owning   land   if   the   landlord   could   provide   protection   against   the   depredations   of   officials   and   soldiers— “always  a  terror  to  the  peasantry  in  the  Roman  empire.” Rents  were  paid  in  money  or   in   kind,   though   sometimes   in   labor   services,   which   were   in   addition   to   the   irregular   12 services   occasionally   demanded   from   tenants.   If   one   wasn’t   a   tenant   but   owned   land,   one  may  have  had  to  deal  with  mortgages  and  foreclosures  and  so  on.  And  then  there   were  the  famines,  when,  ironically,  it  was  often  only  in  the  cities  that  food  was  available.   (This  reminds  me  of  the  manufactured  famine  in  the  Ukraine  in  the  early  1930s,  when   Stalin’s  Five-­‐‑Year  Plan  extracted  so  much  grain  out  of  the  countryside  that  millions  of   peasants   starved.   Timothy   Snyder   has   some   disturbing   descriptions   in   Bloodlands:   Europe  between  Hitler  and  Stalin  (2012).)  Landlords  in  cities  sometimes  hoarded  grain  to   sell  it  at  high  prices,  which  contributed  to  starvation  in  the  countryside.  Again,  there  are   modern   parallels,   with   respect   to   European   imperialism   in   India,   Africa,   and   China,   which  Mike  Davis  recounts  in  Late  Victorian  Holocausts:  El  Niño  Famines  and  the  Making  of   the   Third   World   (2002).   Of   course   these   modern   semi-­‐‑manufactured   famines   were   far   more  horrifying  than  anything  likely  to  have  happened  in  antiquity.     “The   characteristic   unit   in   which   peasant   life   was   organized   was   the   village… Many  [villages]  were  situated  inside  the  territory  of  some  city;  and  some  belonged  to  a   handful   of   absentee   landlords,   or   even   entirely   to   a   single   proprietor,   to   whom   the   villagers   paid   rent.   On   the   other   hand,   there   were   also   villages   of   freehold   peasant   proprietors… Some  villages,  at  least  in  Syria  and  Asia  Minor,  had  what  appears  to  have   been  a  democratic  form  of  organization,  headed  by  a  general  meeting  of  the  villagers;   and—strange   as   it   may   seem—it   looks   as   if   this   democratic   form   of   organization   may   actually   have   survived   in   some   villages,   in   parts   of   Syria   at   any   rate,   after   all   the   genuinely   democratic   elements   had   perished   from   the   constitutions   of   the   cities   throughout   the   [Roman]   empire.” In   the   Later   Empire   these   villages   were   taxed   very   heavily,  paying  their  taxes  to  collectors  appointed  by  the  local  city.  –Peasants,  in  short,   were   largely   at   the   mercy   of   the   powerful,   who   could   regularly   act   with   virtual   impunity.     At  this  point  in  the  book  Ste.  Croix  shifts  to  discussing  the  change  in  the  forms  of   exploitation  that  happened  slowly  during  the  first  three  centuries  A.D.  A  very  important   topic,  which  explains  the  eventual  enserfment  of  most  of  the  free  working  agricultural   population   of   the   Roman   empire.   The   change   happened   all   over   the   Graeco-­‐‑Roman   world  but  in  varying  degrees  and  at  very  different  speeds  in  different  areas.  It  has  to  do   with   the   fate   of   slavery.   In   the   late   Roman   Republic   a   series   of   foreign   wars   and   civil   wars   had   provided   an   abundant   supply   of   cheap   slaves   for   Mediterranean   slave   markets,  but  from  the  Augustan  Principate  (beginning  in  30  B.C.)  onwards  there  was  a   period  of  relative  peace.  As  a  result,  “the  number  of  slaves  that  were  simply  appropriated   from   outside   the   Graeco-­‐‑Roman   economy,   or   brought   within   it   by   purchase,   soon   begin   to   decline.” (His   italics.)   To   keep   replenishing   the   slave   population,   therefore,   it   was   necessary  to  encourage  one’s  slaves  to  breed.  This  hadn’t  been  done  very  much  before   because  it  tended  to  lower  the  rate  at  which  they  could  be  exploited,  since  the  female  slaves   bearing  children  would  of  course  be  occupied,  for  a  time,  with  things  other  than  work,   and  would  often  even  die  in  childbirth.  As  for  the  children,  the  many  who  didn’t  live  to   13 an  age  at  which  they  could  give  a  good  day’s  work  would  be  a  dead  loss  to  the  master.   For  other  reasons  too,  masters  had  preferred  simply  to  buy  new  slaves  coming  in  from   foreign   wars   and   discourage   their   breeding.   But   with   fewer   such   imported   slaves   during  the  Principate  (and  the  greater  cost  of  those  who  were  imported),  slaveowners   now  resorted  to  breeding  them,  which  had  momentous  consequences  for  the  economy:   in  brief,  it  imposed  a  greater  burden  on  the  economy,  because  of  the  lower  rate  of  profit   from  slave  labor.  This,  in  turn,  would  be  likely  to  cause  the  propertied  class  to  increase  the   rate  of  exploitation  of  the  humbler  free  population—as  the  Roman  ruling  class  now  did,  by   degrees.     Hitherto  slaves  had  frequently  been  housed  in  sex-­‐‑segregated  barracks,  but  now,   to  encourage  them  to  breed,  it  was  desirable  to  establish  them  in  conditions  conducive   to   the   rearing   of   families   (which   itself   made   it   harder   to   exploit   them).   It’s   not   surprising,   therefore,   that   as   early   as   the   last   century   B.C.   we   find   evidence   of   slaves   settled   as   virtual   tenants   of   agricultural   plots,   with   their   own   families.   They   were   still   technically   slaves,   but   from   the   economic   point   of   view   they   were   tenants   and   could   even   own   slaves   of   their   own.   Gradually   slavery   declined   in   such   ways   as   these.   Leasing   lands   as   opposed   to   managing   them   oneself   (overseeing   one’s   slaves,   etc.)   became  more  common,  in  part  because  large  landowners  after  the  Republic  were  more   likely   to   own   widely   diffused   plots   of   land   all   of   which   they   could   hardly   manage   themselves.  But  even  if  they  didn’t  own  so  many  plots,  it  was  still  easier  and  less  time-­‐‑ consuming  simply  to  lease  land  to  tenants  (sometimes  thousands  of  them)  who  would   do  the  necessary  productive  work.  These  tenants  were  most  often  coloni,  tied  down  by   debts   to   their   landlords,   such   as   rent   in   arrear   that   gave   an   excuse   for   the   landlord   to   make  the  conditions  under  which  the  tenant  used  his  land  more  burdensome  (which  the   tenant   would   still   find   preferable   to   being   hauled   off   to   debtor’s   prison).   So,   on   the   whole,   the   condition   of   slaves   gradually   improved   somewhat   and   that   of   peasants   throughout  much  of  the  Roman  empire  declined  (at  different  rates).  Finally  towards  the   end   of   the   third   century   A.D.,   “as   part   of   the   great   reform   of   the   system   of   regular   taxation  introduced  by  Diocletian,” these  agricultural  workers  became  legally  bound  to   the   soil.   In   fact,   not   only   leasehold   tenants   but   virtually   the   whole   of   the   agricultural   population   in   the   Roman   empire   was   tied   to   the   land   on   a   hereditary   basis   and   thus   entered   into   serfdom   (or   quasi-­‐‑serfdom   in   the   case   of   peasant   freeholders,   who   were   tied   not   to   a   particular   farm   or   plot   but   to   their   village).   The   reason   for   these   legal   changes  was  to  facilitate  the  increased  exploitation  of  the  peasantry,  primarily  through   taxation  but  also  forced  services  and  military  conscription.       This  legal  reorganization  “was  of  course  seen  by  its  authors  as  necessary,  in  the   common  interest  of  all,  for  the  very  preservation  of  the  empire,  imperiled  as  it  was  now,   as   never   before,   by   ‘barbarian’ threats,   by   the   increased   power   of   Persia   under   the   Sassanids,   and   by   internally   destructive   rivalries   for   control   of   the   imperial   power.   However,   the   propertied   classes   were   determined   to   maintain,   and   were   able   to   14 maintain,   their   dominance   and   their   economically   privileged   situation… The   great   reorganization   was   therefore   primarily   for   the   benefit   of   the   propertied   classes   as   a   whole;   and   for   them,   or   at   any   rate   their   upper   crust,   it   worked   wonders   for   a   time.” He’ll   return   to   these   topics   later   in   the   book,   when   he   discusses   the   decline   of   the   Empire.     As   all   this   was   going   on,   barbarians   were   settling   the   empire   to   an   enormous   extent,  a  fact  that  from  a  cultural  point  of  view  may  have  contributed  to  the  decline  of   Rome   but   from   an   economic   point   of   view   must   have   helped   preserve   it   for   a   while.   Those  who  were  brought  in  after  capture  by  or  surrender  to  Roman  generals  probably   became  mere  tenants  or  coloni  (often  of  imperial  estates),  whereas  most  who  entered  the   empire  by  voluntary  compact  got  to  own  their  own  land.  The  beneficial  economic  effect   of  these  barbarian  settlements  “becomes  immediately  obvious  when  we  realize  that  all   those  in  which  the  settlers  became  mere  tenants,  and  (if  to  a  less  extent)  the  majority  of   those  involving  freeholders,  provided  both  recruits  for  the  army  and  an  adult  workforce,  the   cost   of   producing   which   had   not   fallen   upon   the   Graeco-­‐‑Roman   economy.” The   barbarian   settlers  therefore  helped  compensate  for  the  lower  profits  from  slavery.     Despite   the   decline   of   slavery,   it’s   necessary   to   emphasize   “the   universal   and   unquestioning  acceptance  of  slavery  as  part  of  the  natural  order  of  things,  which  during   the   Principate   still   pervaded   the   whole   of   Greek   and   Roman   society—and   of   course   continued   in   the   Christian   empire   just   as   in   earlier   times.   Slavery   continued   to   play   a   central  role  in  the  psychology  of  the  propertied  class.  [As  Marx  said,  ideologies  tend  to   linger  long  after  the  social  conditions  that  birthed  them  have  evolved  to  new  ones.]  And   here  I  would  refer  again  to  what  I  said  earlier  about  debt  bondage:  every  humble  free   man  must  always  have  been  haunted  by  fear  of  the  coercion,  amounting  to  slavery  in  all   but  name,  to  which  he  might  be  subjected  if  he  ever  defaulted  on  a  debt  to  a  rich  man— including  the  payment  of  rent,  of  course.”     Ste.   Croix’s   comments   on   “the   military   factor” in   the   Roman   empire   are   worth   quoting,   at   least   some   of   them.   Needless   to   say,   military   considerations   were   highly   relevant  to  Rome’s  downfall.  Here  are  a  few  salient  points:     1. From   the   second   quarter   of   the   third   century   onwards   pressure   on   the   frontiers   of   the   Roman   empire   became   much   greater   and   tended   to   go   on   increasing,   and   the   defense   of   the   frontiers   therefore   became   a   matter   on   which   the   empire’s   survival   rested.   2. In   the   circumstances   of   the   time,   the   necessary   standing   army   had   to   be   raised   largely  from  the  peasantry.   3. In   order   to   provide   sufficient   recruits   of   strong   physique   and   potentially   good   morale,  it  was  therefore  essential  to  maintain  a  reasonably  prosperous  and  vigorous   peasantry.   15 4. On   the   contrary,   as   land,   during   the   early   centuries   of   the   Christian   era,   became   increasingly   concentrated   in   the   hands   of   a   few   owners   (throughout   most   of   the   West  and  also,  to  a  less  extent,  over  a  large  part  of  the  Greek  East),  the  condition  of  a   substantial   proportion   of   the   agricultural   population   became   more   and   more   depressed,   until   before   the   end   of   the   third   century   most   working   peasants   were   subjected  to  forms  of  serfdom  or  quasi-­‐‑serfdom…   5. Socially   and   militarily,   this   process   was   very   harmful,   since   the   peasants   became   increasingly  indifferent  towards  the  maintenance  of  the  whole  imperial  system,  most   of   the   burden   of   which   fell   heavily   upon   them;   and   the   morale   (and   probably   the   physique)   of   the   army   deteriorated,   with   the   result   that   much   of   the   empire   disintegrated  by  stages  between  the  early  fifth  century  and  the  mid-­‐‑seventh.   6. The   maintenance   of   a   relatively   prosperous   peasantry,   sufficiently   numerous   to   provide  the  large  number  of  recruits  needed  for  the  army  and  willing  to  fight  to  the   death   in   defense   of   their   way   of   life   (as   the   free   Greeks   and   the   early   Romans   had   been),  might  have  made  all  the  difference  and  might  have  preserved  the  unity  of  the   empire  very  much  longer.     As   he   says,   “the   attitude   of   the   peasantry   in   both   Eastern   and   Western   parts   of   the   Roman   world   during   the   Later   Empire   was   extraordinarily   passive   and   indifferent.” Sometimes  peasants  even  joined  the  barbarian  invaders.  Karma,  Rome.     We’ll  return  to  the  fall  of  Rome  later  on,  at  the  end  of  the  book.       Now  for  Part  2,  which  is  less  descriptive  and  more  explanatory.  He  begins  with   “the   age   of   the   tyrants” in   Greece,   between   the   mid-­‐‑seventh   century   B.C.   and   the   late   sixth.   Many   Greek   cities,   which   had   been   dominated   until   then   by   hereditary   aristocracies,   experienced   a   new   form   of   personal   dictatorial   rule,   by   the   so-­‐‑called   tyrants.  “When  the  rule  of  the  Greek  tyrants  ended,  as  it  usually  did  after  quite  a  short   period,   of   a   generation   or   two,   hereditary   aristocratic   dominance   had   disappeared,   except  in  a  few  places,  and  had  been  succeeded  by  a  much  more  ‘open’ society:  political   power   no   longer   rested   on   descent,   on   blue   blood,   but   was   mainly   dependent   on   the   possession  of  property  (this  now  became  the  standard  form  of  Greek  oligarchy),  and  in   many   cities,   such   as   Athens,   it   was   later   extended   in   theory   to   all   citizens,   in   a   democracy.” A   fundamental   change,   which   isn’t   hard   to   explain   in   terms   of   class   struggle.   The   classes   at   issue   were,   on   the   one   side,   the   hereditary   ruling   aristocrats,   who  were  mainly  the  principal  landowners  and  entirely  monopolized  political  power;   on   the   other   side,   at   first,   everyone   else,   the   “demos.” Some   of   the   latter   were   quite   prosperous,   but   more   common   were   the   well-­‐‑to-­‐‑do   and   middling   peasants,   who   are   often  called  “the  hoplite  class” because  they  provided  the  heavy-­‐‑armed  infantry  of  the   Greek   citizen   armies.   They   owned   a   moderate   amount   of   property.   Below   them   were   poor  peasants,  artisans,  shopkeepers,  petty  traders,  and  wage-­‐‑laborers.     16   What  happened,  then,  is  typically  that  the  demos  or  some  section  of  it  revolted   against   oppression   and   exploitation.   At   some   point   a   capable   leader   emerged   who   seized   the   semi-­‐‑crisis   for   his   own   benefit,   and   after   whom   the   old   secure   days   of   aristocracy  were  over.  Solon  and  Peisistratus  were  good  examples  of  tyrants,  in  Athens.   A  considerable  proportion  of  the  hoplite  class  must  have  given  support  to  the  tyrants,   but  they  also  came  to  power  by  means  of  mercenary  forces  or  outside  intervention  (e.g.,   by   Persia   or   some   other   Greek   city-­‐‑state).   –Once   again,   Aristotle   understands   the   significance   of   the   class   struggle.   He   contrasts   traditional   kingship   with   tyranny:   the   former   “came   into   existence   for   the   purpose   of   helping   the   better   classes   against   the   demos,” whereas   tyrants   arose   “from   among   the   common   people   and   the   masses,   in   opposition  to  the  notables,  so  that  the  demos  should  not  suffer  injustice  at  their  hands… The   great   majority   of   the   tyrants   began   as   demagogues,   so   to   speak,   and   won   confidence   by   calumniating   the   notables.” Good   old-­‐‑fashioned   materialist   common   sense,   depressingly   opposed   to   the   current   postmodern   obsession   among   historians   with   “complicating   old   narratives” etc.,   an   obsession   they   don'ʹt   realize   is   only   an   aid   and   comfort   to   the   ruling   class   and   is   so   widespread   just   because   it   can   get   through   institutional  filters  by  distracting  from  class  struggle.  If  intellectuals  are  successful,  it’s   because   they   don’t   challenge   the   powerful.   (There   are   always   a   few   exceptions,   like   Howard   Zinn—people   who   bypass   the   approved   channels   and   speak   directly   to   the   public.)     After  the  tyrants  came  the  great  age  of  Greek  democracy  in  the  fifth  and  fourth   centuries   B.C.   Ste.   Croix   actually   says   that   so-­‐‑called   tyranny   was   a   necessary   phase   in   the   development   of   many   Greek   states,   because   “institutions   suited   to   maintaining   in   power  even  a  non-­‐‑hereditary  ruling  class,  let  alone  a  democracy,  did  not  exist  (they  had   never  existed)  and  had  to  be  created,  painfully  and  by  experience,  over  the  years”—and   so  in  this  sense  “tyranny” helped  pave  the  way  for  democracy,  a  new  phenomenon  on   the  world  stage  (at  least  among  thoroughly  civilized  societies).  Democracy  came  to  exist   in   scores   of   city-­‐‑states,   not   only   Athens;   it   involved   majority   vote   of   all   male   citizens,   even   the   propertyless—an   extraordinary   fact.   Recall   that   even   in   the   U.S.   it   took   until   the  mid-­‐‑nineteenth  century  for  such  democracy  to  be  well  established.  “The  great  aim   of   democrats   was   that   their   society   should   achieve   as   much   freedom   (eleutheria)   as   possible… Since   public   debate   was   an   essential   part   of   the   democratic   process,   an   important   ingredient   in   democratic   eleutheria  was   freedom   of   speech.” Of   course   there   was  also  equality  before  the  law.     As   in   modern   times,   democracy   was   born   through   struggle   on   the   part   of   the   unpropertied   or   less   propertied.   For   centuries,   “economic   distress   often   drove   the   impoverished  to  attempt  revolution,  with  the  aim  both  of  capturing  control  of  the  state   and  of  effecting  some  kind  of  reallocation  of  property—most  frequently  in  the  form  of  a   redistribution   of   land   or   the   cancellation   of   debts.” The   propertied,   too,   were   wont   to   attempt  revolution,  on  the  side  of  oligarchy.  These  “revolutions” were  most  likely  to  be   17 successful  when  an  outside  power  was  called  in  by  the  revolutionaries,  such  as  Athens   (to   help   install   democracy)   or   Sparta   (to   install   oligarchy).7  It   seems,   incidentally,   that   Athens   in   the   fifth   century   was   possibly   the   only   example   in   history   of   an   imperial   power  that  sought  to  create  or  strengthen  democracy  in  the  areas  it  dominated,  and  allied   not  with  the  upper  class  but  the  middle  and  lower.  Athens  suffered  from  less  overt  class   warfare   in   this   period   than   many   other   poleis   did   because   of   its   stable   and   secure   democracy;   but   you   can   see   how   bitterly   the   rich   resented   democracy   and   its   leaders   (whom  they  often  called  “demagogues”)  in  the  writings  of  Plato,  Isocrates,  Xenophon,   and  others.       “In  the  political  sphere,  democracy  barely  held  its  own  in  the  fourth  century  [the   300s   B.C.],   and   in   many   cities   outside   Athens   the   class   warfare   which   had   already   become   widespread   in   the   last   quarter   of   the   fifth   century   became   more   acute… Oligarchic   and   democratic   leaders   had   no   hesitation   in   calling   on   outside   powers   to   help   them   gain   the   upper   hand   over   their   adversaries.” That’s   incredible:   the   fiercely   independent  Greeks  were  willing  to  subordinate  their  independence  to  class  advantage!   Violent   civil   strife   sometimes   broke   out   between   the   classes.   Tyranny,   which   had   become   rare,   began   to   occur   again,   suggesting   an   intensification   of   class   strife.   “Rich   and  poor  would  regard  each  other  with  bitter  hatred,  and  when  a  revolution  succeeded   there  would  be  wholesale  executions  and  banishments,  and  confiscation  of  the  property   of   at   least   the   leaders   of   the   opposite   party.” Many   among   the   propertied   classes   wanted   there   to   be   a   Greek   crusade   against   Persia,   since   they   thought   this   might   provide  land  and  a  new  hope  for  people  who  could  no  longer  make  a  living  at  home.  – This  reminds  me  of  what  U.S.  historians  like  Frederick  Jackson  Turner  have  argued:  the   vast,   relatively   empty   Western   lands   in   nineteenth-­‐‑century   America   alleviated   class   tensions  in  the  East,  by  drawing  away  millions  of  potentially  rebellious  immigrants  and   giving   them   new   opportunities.   Apparently   the   same   useful   function   of   land   was   recognized  in  ancient  Greece.  (And  think  of  the  Nazi  obsession  with  Lebensraum.  Again,   it   could   lessen   class   conflict:   one   shouldn’t   have   oppressed   and   oppressors   packed   together  too  tightly.)     By   the   time   of   Philip   II   of   Macedon,   Alexander   the   Great’s   father,   the   oligarchically  minded  all  over  Greece  gave  (treasonous)  support  to  his  conquest  of  their   cities,  because  they  understood  he  would  be  much  more  sympathetic  to  oligarchy  than   democracy.   And   indeed,   the   League   of   Corinth   that   he   and   Alexander   organized   prohibited  redistribution  of  land,  the  cancellation  of  debts,  the  confiscation  of  property,   and  the  altering  of  city  constitutions.  (America’s  Founding  Fathers,  likewise,  did  what    “In   the   early   fourth   century,   Xenophon   in   particular   always   takes   it   for   granted   that   when   there  is  a  division  within  a  city  on  class  lines,  the  rich  will  naturally  turn  to  Sparta,  the  demos  to   Athens.”   7 18 they  could  to  prevent  their  elitist  and  rich-­‐‑coddling  Constitution  from  being  altered,  by   making  the  process  of  amendment  extremely  cumbersome.)     So,  the  Hellenistic  era.  And  then  the  suzerainty  of  Rome.  In  the  early  Hellenistic   period  the  lower  classes  (especially  among  the  city-­‐‑dwellers,  less  so  the  peasants)  may   still   have   played   an   important   part   in   the   life   of   their   polis,   but   very   soon   “there   developed   all   over   the   Greek   world   a   tendency   for   political   power   to   become   entirely   concentrated   in   the   hands   of   the   propertied   class.   This   development,   or   rather   retrogression,   was   still   by   no   means   complete   when   the   Romans   took   over,   in   the   second   century   B.C.   The   Romans,   whose   governing   class   always   detested   democracy,   intensified  and  accelerated  the  process;  and  by  the  third  century  of  the  Christian  era  the   last   remnants   of   the   original   democratic   institutions   of   the   Greek   poleis   had   mostly   ceased   to   exist   for   all   practical   purposes.” Athenian   democracy   was   effectively   destroyed  by  the  Macedonian  Antipater  in  322/1  B.C.  after  Athens  had  risen  up  against   Macedon’s   rule   and   been   defeated.   The   next   fifty   years   were   full   of   oligarchies,   uprisings,   blockades,   and   constitutional   changes;   after   further   vicissitudes   the   Roman   general   Sulla   sacked   Athens   in   86   B.C.,   against   “heroic   and   futile   resistance” by   the   demos.  In  general,  though,  the  Romans  and  the  Hellenistic  kings  didn’t  treat  the  Greek   cities   they   dominated   in   an   overly   oppressive   manner.   The   kings,   at   least,   rarely   even   formally  limited  political  power  to  a  small  class,  feeling  obliged  to  support  democracy   because  it  was  so  well  established  by  tradition.     Nevertheless,  after  the  fourth  century  B.C.  there  were  several  common  oligarchic   methods   of   subverting   democracy.   The   first   entailed   control   of   the   city   Assembly   by   royal   officials,   magistrates,   and   the   like.   Another,   from   a   more   long-­‐‑term   perspective,   was  the  gradual  abolition  of  the  popular  courts  (like  the  one  that  convicted  Socrates),  on   which   in   a   full   Greek   democracy   all   citizens   were   entitled   to   serve.   The   Romans   sometimes   made   constitutional   changes   to   limit   democracy,   but   more   often   simply   supported   the   local   rich   and   encouraged   them   to   take   control   of   political   life.   As   they   were  only  too  happy  to  do.  As  usual,  therefore,  it  was  the  rich  who  were  most  inclined   to  be  traitors  or  semi-­‐‑quislings,  or  to  cooperate  in  the  subordination  of  their  land  to  an   overlord,  because  that  was  a  way  to  protect  their  property  and  power.     Ste.   Croix   anticipates   a   later   discussion   when   he   says,   “The   most   significant   result   of   the   destruction   of   Greek   democracy   was   the   complete   disappearance   of   the   limited   measure   of   political   protection   afforded   to   the   lower   class   against   exploitation   by  the  propertied,  which  became  intensified  in  the  early  centuries  of  the  Christian  era   and   was   one   of   the   prime   causes   of   the   disintegration   of   a   large   part   of   the   Roman   empire  between  the  fifth  and  seventh  centuries  [A.D.].” He  also  remarks  that  “modern   historians   [characteristically]   have   shown   little   concern   with   this   aspect   of   the   disappearance  of  democracy;  and  when  they  have  noticed  the  disappearance  at  all,  their   interest  in  it  has  usually  been  submerged  by  attention  to  the  supersession  of  ‘city-­‐‑state’ or   ‘republican’ forms   of   government   (which   of   course   may   be   either   democratic   or   19 oligarchic)   by   the   monarchy   of   the   Hellenistic   kingdoms   or   of   the   Roman   Principate.” Political   forms   matter   more   to   most   historians   and   other   academics   than   social   (class)   content.   Doubtless   it   takes   a   little   digging   to   unearth   the   class   content   behind   political   and  social  forms,  but  such  content  is,  after  all,  the  most  important  thing,  which  largely   explains  the  rest.     Likewise,   when   reading   primary   sources,   you   should   always   keep   in   mind   the   class   background,   agenda,   and   prejudices   of   the   author(s).   When   Cicero   and   other   ancient  thinkers  praise  republicanism  and  so  forth,  or  exhort  jurists  in  a  court  of  law  to   heed  “the  welfare  of  the  state,  the  safety  of  the  community,  and  the  immediate  interests   of   the   Republic,” you   should   know   that   by   “republic” they   mean   the   propertied   few.   Class   is   the   prism   through   which   they,   and   all   of   us,   view   the   world,   because   it   (i.e.,   access   to   resources,   and   to   particular   types   of   resources)   predominantly   shapes   our   experiences  and  judgments  and  aspirations.       The   lower   classes   resisted   the   slow   crushing   of   democracy,   though   in   the   long   run  without  success.  Demonstrations  were  organized  in  hippodromes  or  amphitheaters,   sometimes  in  the  presence  of  the  Roman  emperor;  as  a  consequence  of  such  activities,   the   imperial   government   was   very   leery   of   allowing   any   sort   of   combination   or   association  among  the  lower  orders  in  the  Greek  East.  Not  even  fire-­‐‑brigades  or  mutual   benefit  societies  were  always  accepted,  because  their  activities  might  become  political.   There  were  also  riots,  involving  the  lynching  of  some  detested  official  or  the  destruction   of  a  local  magnate’s  house  for  some  cause  like  his  refusing  to  distribute  grain  during  a   famine.  –Thus  does  the  ruling  class  reap  what  it  sows.       The  book  isn’t  focused  on  Rome  as  such  but  only  insofar  as  it  participated  in  the   Greek  cultural  and  linguistic  world.  Even  so,  Ste.  Croix  devotes  a  chapter  to  Rome  for   its  own  sake,  so  to  speak.  It  begins  with  an  illuminating  discussion  of  the  much-­‐‑vaunted   Roman  genius  for  law,  which  turns  out  only  to  have  been  for  civil  law,  not  criminal  or   constitutional   law.   It   certainly   wasn’t   a   society   “ruled   by   law”;   even   in   the   Principate   (established  by  Augustus),  not  to  mention  the  later  Dominate,  it  was  ruled  much  more   by  arbitrary  power  and  discrimination  on  the  grounds  of  social  status  and  class.  But  its   extraordinarily   detailed   civil   law   did   hold   property   rights   to   be   sacrosanct—which   explains  why  Roman  law  was  rediscovered  and  revived  during  Europe’s  late-­‐‑medieval   transition   to   capitalism.   Human   rights   are   meaningless   to   capital,   indeed   a   positive   hindrance,  while  property  rights  are  the  be-­‐‑all  and  end-­‐‑all.  Another  interesting  (though   predictable)  relation  to  the  present  is  that  the  Romans  shared  the  penchant  of  the  U.S.’s   rulers—and   the   rulers   of   every   other   imperial   power   in   history—to   justify   their   war-­‐‑ making  in  terms  of  defense.  According  to  Cicero—“in  whom  we  often  find  the  choicest   expression   of   any   kind   of   Roman   hypocrisy”—it   was   only   by   “defending   their   allies” that  the  Romans  became  “masters  of  all  lands.” In  fact,  as  one  historian  has  said,  “the   peculiar  Roman  conception  of  defensive  war…covered  the  prevention  and  elimination   20 of   any   potential   menace   to   Roman   power.” Hm,   reminds   me   of   the   Bush   II   administration’s  doctrine  of  preventive  war,  to  justify  invading  and  destroying  Iraq.  – There  are  only  a  few  ideological  tricks  in  the  bag  of  the  oppressors,  so  they  have  to  keep   reusing  the  same  ones  from  time  immemorial.  (Whatever  one  may  say  about  Bush  and   his  cronies,  original  they  were  not.)     The   Roman   Republic   was   just   as   riven   by   class   conflict   as   the   Empire   and   the   Greek   poleis.   In   part,   it   took   the   form   of   conflict   between   Patricians   and   Plebeians,   dating  from  the  Republic’s  very  beginning  in  508  B.C.  These  terms  denoted  orders,  not   classes,  but,  as  always,  there  was  a  close  relation  between  status  and  class.  Truistically,   “the   Patricians   were   able   to   gain   access   to,   and   ultimately   to   monopolize,   political   power   at   Rome   because   they   were   by   and   large   the   richest   families—in   the   mainly   agrarian   society   of   early   Rome,   the   largest   landowners   above   all.” There   are   always   exceptions   here   and   there,   but   the   generalization   is   broadly   true.   The   Plebeians   were   more   heterogeneous,   some   of   them   even   rich,   but   their   goals   were   typically   to   lessen   both  political  oppression  and  economic  exploitation  (as  we  would  call  it  today).  In  494   B.C.  they  were  able  to  create  the  institution  of  the  tribune  to  advocate  for  them.  I  won’t   go  into  detail,  since  the  history  is  easily  accessible  in  popular  books.  The  main  point  is   that,   in   the   long   run,   the   “conflict   of   the   orders” succeeded   only   in   replacing   the   patrician   oligarchy   by   a   patricio-­‐‑plebeian   oligarchy   that   differed   very   little   from   the   previous   one   in   outlook   and   behavior.   The   governing   class   was   thus   broadened   somewhat,   as   often   happens   in   history—the   social   and   economic   discontent   of   the   excluded  masses  gets  suppressed  while  the  richest  among  them  are  granted  entry  into   the   ruling   elite8—and   the   influential   position   of   its   members   came   to   be   based   even    Think  of  the  modern  European  “bourgeois  revolutions.”  They  didn’t  immediately  do  much  to   end   the   oppression   of   workers   and   peasants   (although   sometimes   the   peasantry   did   benefit   from  the  attacks  on  feudalism),  but  they  did  succeed  in  extending  political  representation  to  the   hitherto   excluded   bourgeoisie.   I   recall   a   passage   from   a   paper   I   wrote   on   the   Russian   Revolution:   “The   duality   between   the   [worker-­‐‑oriented]   Petrograd   Soviet   and   the   [bourgeois-­‐‑ oriented]  Provisional  Government  [between  February  and  October  1917]  points  up  the  tension   in  every  anti-­‐‑‘ancien  régime’  revolution  between,  on  the  one  hand,  the  impoverished  and  semi-­‐‑ impoverished   masses,   including   (certain   sections   of)   the   peasantry,   the   petty-­‐‑bourgeoisie   and   the  workers,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  bourgeoisie  or  the  ‘respectable  classes’  who  are  striving   for  representation  in  the  autocratic  government.  The  latter  groups  tend  to  desire  only  political   and   legal   reforms   in   the   mold   of   liberalism,   while   the   former   desire   something   like   a   social   revolution,   including   universal   suffrage,   radical   democratization,   and   social   equality.   For   example,   in   The   World   Turned   Upside   Down   (1984),   Christopher   Hill   notes   with   regard   to   the   English  civil  wars  of  the  mid-­‐‑seventeenth  century  that  two  revolutions  occurred:  ‘The  one  which   succeeded   established   the   sacred   rights   of   property   (abolition   of   feudal   tenures,   no   arbitrary   taxation),   gave   political   power   to   the   propertied   (sovereignty   of   Parliament   and   common   law,   8 21 more  on  wealth  rather  than  their  status  as  patricians.  It’s  clear,  in  any  case,  that  Rome   was  never  anything  like  a  democracy.     As  you  know,  the  Republic  succumbed  to  civil  wars  and  Julius  Caesar  and  finally   the  Empire.  How  can  all  this  be  explained?  Ste.  Croix  starts  by  mentioning  the  populares,   like  the  Gracchi,  Catiline,  Codius,  and  Caesar,  who  were  opposed  by  the  optimates,  like   Cicero.  The  latter,  of  course,  favored  oligarchy  and  didn’t  want  concessions  made  to  the   “starving,  contemptible  rabble,” the  “dregs  of  the  city,” the  “indigent  and  unwashed,” the  “dirt  and  filth” (as  Cicero  said).  The  former,  while  not  really  democrats,  took  a  more   populist   stance,   advocating   debt   relief,   distribution   of   grain   to   the   poor,   agrarian   abolition  of  prerogative  courts),  and  removed  all  impediments  to  the  triumph  of  the  ideology  of   the  men  of  property—the  protestant  ethic.  There  was,  however,  another  revolution  which  never   happened,   though   from   time   to   time   it   threatened.   This   might   have   established   communal   property,   a   far   wider   democracy   in   political   and   legal   institutions,   might   have   disestablished   the   state   church   and   rejected   the   protestant   ethic.’   The   Levellers,   the   Seekers,   the   Ranters,   the   Diggers,   and   other   such   radical   groups   represented   the   revolution   that   might   have   happened.   Similarly,   in   revolutionary   France   after   1788   a   tension   continually   displayed   itself   between   radical  democracy  and  ‘responsible’  representative  government.  The  same  conflict  flared  up  in   1848,   when   the   French   workers   and   bourgeoisie   fought   together   against   the   monarchy— although,   more   accurately,   it’s   always   the   workers   (and   petty-­‐‑bourgeois)   who   do   the   actual   fighting—only   to   part   months   later,   when   the   bourgeoisie   allied   itself   with   the   aristocracy   in   crushing  a  threatened  popular  revolution.  A  similar  phenomenon  was  evident  in  Russia  in  1905,   with   the   workers   fighting   alongside   the   bourgeoisie   though   each   distrusted   the   other.   And   in   1917,   first   the   bourgeois   revolution—exemplified   by   the   establishment   of   the   Provisional   Government—triumphed,   and   then   the   popular   revolution   did,   exemplified   by   the   events   of   Red   October,   which   were   supposed   by   millions   to   have   finally   established   the   principle   of   soviet   democracy.   [They   didn’t;   the   Bolsheviks   turned   out   to   be   just   another   elite   that   suppressed   economic   democracy,   this   time   in   the   name   of   ‘socialism.’   Stalinism   was   the   long-­‐‑ term   consequence.]   Generalizing,   it’s   evident   that   in   some   cases   the   popular   revolution   fails,   which  may  result  in  a  narrow  parliamentary  government,  limited  suffrage,  and  a  liberal  social   order  conducive  to  the  development  of  capitalism,  while  in  other  cases  (e.g.,  Russia  in  late  1917,   China  in  1949,  and  perhaps  certain  Latin  American  countries  for  a  few  years  before  the  return  of   capital-­‐‑based   authoritarianism),   the   popular   revolution   ‘succeeds’—at   least   it   appears   to,   temporarily—resulting   in   the   suppression   of   landowners   and   capitalists.   In   1917,   the   masses   had   the   resources,   the   numbers,   the   circumstances,   and   the   (ultimately   traitorous)   leaders   to   succeed,   whereas   in   France   in   the   1790s   they   didn’t   (because   industrialization   had   not   yet   begun,  urbanization  was  in  its  infancy,  etc.).”  See,  among  many  others,  Christopher  Read,  From   Tsar   to   Soviets:   The   Russian   People   and   Their   Revolution,   1917–21   (New   York:   Oxford   University   Press,   1996);   Orlando   Figes,   A   People’s   Tragedy:   A   History   of   the   Russian   Revolution   (New   York:   Viking,   1996);   and   Roy   Medvedev,   The   October   Revolution   (New   York:   Columbia   University   Press,  1979).   22 reform,   and   defense   of   democratic   elements   in   the   constitution.   “The   populares,   then,   served   as   leaders   of   what   was   in   a   very   real   sense   a   political   class   struggle:   a   blind,   spasmodic,  uninformed,  often  misdirected  and  always  easily  confused  movement,  but  a   movement  with  deep  roots,  proceeding  from  men  whose  interests  were  fundamentally   opposed  to  those  of  the  ruling  oligarchy…” Also  relevant  to  the  class  struggle  and  civil   wars  was  the  fact  that  Rome  was  a  great  imperial  power.  Enormous  wealth  flowed  to   Rome’s   elite   as   a   result   of   its   rapacity   and   plundering   abroad.   As   with   modern   imperialism, 9  the   majority   of   the   population   received   little   direct   benefit   from   the   conquests,  and  in  some  cases  was  harmed.  As  one  historian  says,  in  the  Late  Republic   the  senators  and  equestrians—i.e.,  the  nobility—who  profited  from  the  empire     did   not   use   their   newly   acquired   wealth   for   any   economically   productive   purpose;  they  spent  it  either  on  luxury  goods  or  on  the  acquisition  of  land.  Their   demand   for   luxuries   encouraged   a   one-­‐‑way   traffic   of   imports   into   Italy,   which   provided   employment   for   provincial   craftsmen   and   profits   to   merchants   both   provincial  and  Italian.  Their  acquisition  of  land  led  to  the  pauperization  of  many   of  the  Italian  peasantry.  The  Italian  lower  classes  lost  rather  than  gained  by  the   empire.  Many  of  them  lost  their  land  and  were  recompensed  only  by  cheap  corn   if  they  migrated  to  Rome,  or  meager  pay  in  the  army.     Much   of   the   Italian   peasantry   in   this   era   was   impoverished   by   military   conscription,   which  took  them  away  from  their  productive  activities;  at  the  same  time,  the  rich  were   getting  richer  and  dispossessing  the  poor  from  their  land.  Discharged  veterans  had  little   or  no  property  to  support  them  when  they  returned  home.  Being  as  short-­‐‑sighted  as  the   oligarchs  of  the  twenty-­‐‑first  century—who  are  only  destroying  their  power  in  the  long   run   by   increasing   it   in   the   short   run—the   senatorial   government   refused   to   give   even   the   poorer   legionaries   land.   “Consequently   the   loyalty   of   discharged   veterans,   and   of   soldiers   who   knew   they   would   otherwise   be   left   without   means   on   discharge,   was   deeply   engaged   to   commanders   [like   Marius   and,   later,   Caesar]   who   could   be   relied   upon,   in   the   teeth   of   senatorial   opposition,   to   make   land   grants   available   to   their   veterans… This   gave   the   commanders   irresistible   strength.” (It   was   Augustus   who   finally  prepared  the  ground  for  a  permanent  standing  army;  and  he  and  Tiberius  ended   conscription,   though   it   returned   later.)   What   happened,   then,   were   the   civil   wars,   between  generals  each  with  his  own  private  army.  Octavian—Augustus—was  the  final   victor.     This   is   the   kind   of   thing   that   happens   when   the   rich   get   too   rich   and   are   given   too  much  license  to  do  as  they  want.  They  dismantle  or  ignore  rules  that  aren’t  in  their   9  J.  A.  Hobson’s  Imperialism  (1905)  gives  a  good  analysis,  much  of  which  applies  to  our  own  day.   23 short-­‐‑term  interest,  which  inevitably  causes  a  gradual  disintegration  of  social  bonds,  of   any   kind   of   social   compact,   public-­‐‑spiritedness,   and   the   very   fabric   of   society.   Privatization   destroys   public   goods,   thus   ultimately   destroying   society   itself.   Class   polarization   increases,   and   with   it   social   discontent   and   instability,   which   creates   opportunities  (in  certain  historical  contexts)  for  political  and  military  adventurers.  This   is   especially   the   case   if   savage   imperialist   practices   have   inured   soldiers   and   commanders  (and  politicians,  etc.)  to  war,  such  that  they  may  visit  war  upon  their  own   society.  A  gifted  military  commander  or  politician  may  emerge  to  break  the  stalemate,   the  polarization,  between  the  classes  and  partially  rescue  society  from  its  dysfunction;   Gramsci’s  “Caesarism,” as  with  Caesar  himself  or  Augustus  or  Mussolini  or  Hitler,  can   step  into  the  breach  and  cut  the  Gordian  knot  (to  mix  metaphors)  by  means  of  violence   or   terror   and   dictatorship.   The   propertied   class   remains   on   top,   but   concessions   are   given   to   the   masses   for   the   sake   of   preserving   the   social   and   economic   order.   What’s   amazing,  with  respect  to  Rome,  is  how  durable  Octavian’s  Caesarist  intervention  was,   enabling   Rome   to   last   several   centuries   longer!   The   man   was   obviously   a   political   genius.     Machiavelli   describes   an   important   aspect   of   the   emperor’s   role   well.   As   Ste.   Croix   says,   “Augustus   and   many   of   his   successors   would   have   applauded   the   fascinating  passage  from  the  Discourses  on  the  First  Decade  of  Livy,  in  which  Machiavelli   recognizes  the  necessity,  in  a  state  containing  over-­‐‑powerful  gentiluomini  of  the  kind  he   so   detested   (bearing   a   striking   resemblance   to   the   Roman   landed   aristocracy),   for   a   monarch   with   ‘absolute   and   overwhelming   power,’ to   restrain   the   excesses   of   ‘the   powerful.’” The  essential  role  of  the  emperor,  like  that  of  modern  presidents  and  prime   ministers,  was  “the  reinforcement  of  the  whole  social  and  political  system  and  making  it   a   stronger   and   more   efficient   instrument   for   the   exploitation   of   the   great   majority,” a   role  that  necessitated  regulation  and  reining-­‐‑in  of  the  upper  class’s  savage  instincts.  In   the  Later  Empire,  when  barbarian  incursions  became  more  frequent,  the  emperor  had  to   step  up  the  exploitation  and  extract  more  taxes  by  making  serfdom  de  jure,  not  only  de   facto.   This   also,   combined   with   the   regime’s   life-­‐‑and-­‐‑death   situation,   necessitated   the   emperor’s  assumption  of  even  more  autocratic  power  than  before  (though  still  to  some   extent   disguised   by   the   legal   fictions   and   institutionalized   tactfulness   of   which   Augustus  had  set  the  precedent,  to  avoid  offending  the  Senate).     Ste.   Croix’s   chapter   on   “the   class   struggle   on   the   ideological   plane” has   some   interesting   passages,   although,   because   it   deals   with   mere   ideology,   it’s   less   fruitful   than  the  other  chapters.  It  starts  out  with  a  consideration  of  the  very  great  importance  of   sheer  terror  and  violence  in  keeping  the  propertied  in  power—tactics  that  the  Romans   perfected.  The  Greeks  were  more  humane,  doubtless  in  part  because  they  didn’t  have  a   vast   empire   to   control.   More   interesting   are   the   intellectual   and   ideological   tricks   that   the   ancients—and   all   ruling   classes—(have)   used   to   justify   oligarchy   (usually   without   admitting   to   themselves   that   what   they’re   justifying   is   oligarchy).   Probably   the   most   24 universal   one,   from   antiquity   up   to   the   twentieth   century   and   our   own   day,   is   the   Platonic  argument  that  only  those  people  intellectually  qualified  and  trained  for  ruling   should   have   power;   others,   while   doubtless   performing   essential   social   and   economic   functions,  should  stick  to  their  (subordinate)  calling,  so  to  speak,  and  not  irresponsibly   interfere   with   governance.   As   Noam   Chomsky   likes   to   remind   us,   this   ideology   was   shared   by   liberal   American   intellectuals   like   Walter   Lippmann   and   Edward   Bernays,   who   helped   found   the   public-­‐‑relations   industry   (a   euphemism   for   the   propaganda   industry,   as   it   was   more   honestly   called   in   the   early   twentieth   century).   “The   bewildered   herd” should   stay   out   of   the   way   and   consent   to   being   governed   by   “a   specialized   class   whose   interests   reach   beyond   the   locality” (Lippmann).   These   ideas   aren’t   always   articulated,   because   they   don’t   sound   very   democratic,   but   of   course   nearly   everyone   who   participates   in   governing   believes   them.   Their   plausibility   is   another   question   entirely,   which   at   least   partly   has   to   be   answered   in   the   negative.   Certainly   some   training   is   required   to   govern,   in   some   cases   some   specialized   knowledge,  etc.;  but  when  you  reflect  on  how  well  and  “disinterestedly” the  powerful   in  history  have  carried  out  their  “sacred  obligation” to  rule  benevolently,  you  begin  to   doubt  the  soundness  of  the  argument.  If  anything,  the  powerful  have  usually  been  more   self-­‐‑interested  and  short-­‐‑sighted  than  their  subjects,  who,  when  they  get  the  chance—as   with   the   contemporary   movement   called   “participatory   budgeting”—regularly   determine  the  proper  priorities  of  government  far  more  effectively  than  the  rich  and/or   powerful  do.     The   Greek   notion   of   natural   slavery   wouldn’t   be   accepted   by   most   of   the   elite   now,   at   least   not   without   modification,   but   it   isn’t   far   from   the   Social   Darwinism   that   the  rich  love.  It’s  hard  to  imagine  many  of  the  privileged  not  agreeing  with  Plato  that   “those   who   wallow   in   great   ignorance   and   baseness” belong  as   slaves,   or   rather   as   the   lower  classes.  (Ironic  that  the  great  ignorance  and  baseness  has  usually  been  on  the  side   of   those   who   call   others   ignorant   and   base.)   “Some   people   are   born   weak,” etc.   Class   privilege   manufactures   such   ways   of   thinking,   because   people   are   born   to   rationalize.   While   the   idea   of   natural   slavery   wasn’t   widely   accepted   for   very   long,   slavery   itself   was   rarely   questioned   in   antiquity—at   least   according   to   surviving   records.   Even   Christians  didn’t  question  it,  with  a  few  marginal  exceptions.  (As  always,  an  ideology  is   adapted  to  material  realities.  It  would  have  been  odd  if  most  Christians  had  questioned   such  fundamental  institutions  as  slavery  and  serfdom.)       Nor   were   the   ancients   (at   least   the   “respectable” ones   whose   writings   survive)   prone   to   questioning   the   rights   of   property.   “It   is   property   that   confers   rank,” Ovid   said.  The  Elder  Seneca  said,  “It  is  property  that  raises  to  the  rank  of  senator,  property   that   differentiates   the   Roman   eques   from   the   plebs,   property   that   brings   promotion   in   the   army,   property   that   provides   the   qualification   for   judges   in   the   forum.” Cicero   thought   the   primary   function   of   a   state   was   to   protect   private   property   rights.   And   there   are   other   examples.   The   Jews   were   different,   because   of   their   different   25 socioeconomic  context  (the  provinces,  the  countryside)—and  for  Jesus  it  was  a  positive   evil  to  have  a  lot  of  property,  which  could  prevent  someone  from  getting  into  heaven— but  such  radical  ideas  were  partially  cast  off  as  Christianity  migrated  from  the  chora,  the   countryside,  to  the  polis,  the  Graeco-­‐‑Roman  city.  Later,  it  was  only  among  the  heretical   Christian  thinkers  that  private  property  was  condemned.  I’ll  copy  here  some  thoughts   Ste.  Croix  inserts  after  his  long  discussion  of  early  Christians’ obsessive  persecution  of   each  other,  because  the  points  he  makes  are  good  Marxist  ones:     I  doubt  if  a  better  means  could  have  been  devised  of  distracting  the  victims  of  the   class   struggle   from   thinking   about   their   own   grievances   and   possible   ways   of   remedying   them   than   representing   to   them,   as   their   ecclesiastical   leaders   did,   that   religious   issues   were   infinitely   more   important   than   social,   economic   or   political   ones,   and   that   it   was   heretics   and   schismatics   (not   to   mention   pagans,   Manichees,  Jews,  and  other  “lesser  breeds  without  the  Law”)  upon  whom  their   resentment   could   most   profitably   be   concentrated… [They   were   taught   that]   their  real  enemies  were  those  enemies  of  God  and  his  Church  who,  if  they  were   not   suppressed,   would   endanger   men’s   immortal   souls   and   bring   them   to   perdition.   “Heretics” and   “schismatics,” as   well   as   “unbelievers,” were   an   entirely   new   kind   of   internal   enemy,   invented   by   Christianity,   upon   whom   the   wrath   of   “right-­‐‑thinking   people” could   be   concentrated,   for   in   paganism   the   phenomena  of  “heresy” and  “schism,” as  well  as  “unbelief,” were  inconceivable:   there   was   no   “correct” dogma   in   which   it   was   necessary   to   believe   in   order   to   avoid   anathema   in   this   world   and   damnation   in   the   next,   and   to   secure   eternal   life;  and  there  was  nothing  remotely  resembling  a  single,  universal  Church.  We   may   reflect   by   contrast   upon   the   good   fortune   of   the   mass   of   Greeks   in   the   Classical   period,   who   had   no   such   beliefs   instilled   into   them,   to   prevent   them   from   recognizing   who   their   real   internal   enemies   were,   and   to   persuade   them   that  democracy  was  a  useless  if  not  an  impious  aim,  since  “the  powers  that  be  are   ordained  of  God” [as  St.  Paul  said].     You  see  here  how  this  sort  of  dogmatic  religion  was,  perhaps,  the  first  ideology  to  fulfill   a   function   like   that   of   nationalism,   fascism,   and   Nazism   later:   it   distracted   from   real   issues,   fabricated   pretend   internal   and   external   enemies,   and   was   therefore   ultimately   embraced   by   power-­‐‑structures.   Always   the   masses   must   be   divided   in   order   to   be   conquered.     Okay,  now  for  the  final  chapter  in  the  history:  the  decline  and  fall  of  Rome.  Ste.   Croix  begins  with  the  gradual  whittling  away  of  the  legal  rights  of  the  poorer  classes,   from   the   first   century   A.D.   to   the   third.   In   212   Roman   citizenship   was   extended   to   nearly  all  the  free  inhabitants  of  the  empire,  but  this  meant  very  little;  it  was  probably   mainly   an   excuse   to   tax   them   more.   Citizenship   had   come   to   mean   less   and   less   as   a   26 new   set   of   social   and   juridical   distinctions   had   arisen   that   were   more   important;   and   these  distinctions  were,  on  the  whole,  class  distinctions.  “For  all  practical  purposes  the   constitutional  rights  to  which  an  inhabitant  of  the  Graeco-­‐‑Roman  world  was  entitled  by   at   any   rate   the   early   third   century   depended   hardly   at   all   upon   whether   he   was   a   Roman  citizen,  but,  broadly  speaking,  on  whether  he  was  a  member  of  what  I  shall  call   ‘the   privileged   groups’:   namely,   senatorial,   equestrian   and   curial   families,10  veterans   and   their   children,   and   (for   some   purposes)   serving   soldiers.” The   people   below   the   privileged   groups   were   the   lower   classes,   who   possessed   little   or   no   property;   and,   except   for   veterans   and   soldiers,   who   were   of   unique   importance   to   the   empire   (its   ruling   class)   and   so   were   worth   protecting,   the   privileged   groups   had   by   the   third   century  become  almost  identical  with  the  propertied  class,  i.e.,  those  who  could  live  in   relative  leisure  off  the  proceeds  of  their  property.     There  were  several  differences  between  the  two  groups.  For  one  thing,  according   to  the  “dual  penalty  system” the  privileged  received  lighter  punishments,  for  example   decapitation   instead   of   crucifixion,   burning   to   death,   or   being   eaten   by   animals.   They   were  exempt  from  flogging  and  from  torture  (which  was  frequently  used  in  court),  and   it  was  easier  for  them  to  avoid  imprisonment  pending  trial.  Evidence  given  in  court  by   members   of   the   lower   classes   was   accorded   less   weight   than   that   of   their   social   superiors.   And   so   on.   These   kinds   of   inequalities   are   of   course   almost   universal   in   history,   and   very   much   present   in   our   own   society.   (Higher   rates   of   incarceration   of   black   males   for   nonviolent   crimes   than   white   males,   etc.)   More   pertinently,   the   legal   differences  mentioned  show  it  was  becoming  easier  to  exploit  the  humbler  free  people   than   it   had   been   in   the   past—and,   again,   exploiting   them   was   also   more   necessary,   because   the   elite   was   becoming   more   directly   dependent   for   its   surplus   on   the   free   or   quasi-­‐‑free  people  than  the  (diminishing  number  of)  slaves.     It   was   expedient   to   develop   these   new,   largely   class-­‐‑determined   distinctions   because   Roman   citizenship,   on   which   earlier   privileges   had   been   based,   had,   by   its   gradual  extension,  long  ceased  to  be  a  class-­‐‑specific  thing.       The  fiscal  burdens  of  the  Roman  state  began  to  get  severe  in  the  reign  of  Marcus   Aurelius,  between  161  and  180  A.D.,  because  of  ever  more  barbarian  irruptions  and  the   necessity  to  defend  Rome.  It  was  around  this  time  that  financial  pressures  on  the  curial   order—to  which  belonged  smaller  landowners  than  senators—began  to  ruin  some  of  its   lower   members.   Public   services   of   all   kinds   were   demanded   of   them,   which   they   couldn’t   afford.   Their   decline   is   shown   by   the   fact   that   in   the   late   fourth   century   the   emperors   even   made   it   permissible   to   flog   them   mercilessly,   sometimes   to   death.   The   richer  ones  might  be  able  to  finagle  their  way  into  the  senatorial  ranks—in  part  to  avoid    The   curial   order   consisted   of   the   members   of   the   city   Councils   and   their   families,   who   eventually  became  a  hereditary  local  governing  class.   10 27 these  dreaded  floggings—but  the  situation  of  the  poorer  ones  deteriorated.  Exploitation   and   the   class   struggle   thus   worked   their   way   up   into   the   elite   itself,   and   started   to   polarize  it.  Eventually  the  curiales “were  reduced  to  little  more  than  minor  local  officials   responsible   for   tax-­‐‑collection   and   the   performance   of   other   public   duties,” with   very   little  real  power.     “The  whole  process  brings  out  admirably  the  complete  control  exercised  over  the   whole   Graeco-­‐‑Roman   world   by   the   very   highest   class,   of   senators   and   equestrians— who  had  merged  into  a  single  order  by  at  least  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century.  There   were  now  more  grades  within  the  senatorial  order… The  utter  lack  of  any  kind  of  real   power   below   the   highest   class   left   even   men   of   some   property   and   local   distinction   helpless  subjects  of  the  great… The  screw,  having  already  been  tightened  at  the  bottom   of  the  social  scale  by  landlords  and  tax-­‐‑collectors  about  as  far  as  it  would  safely  go,  and   indeed   further,   had   from   the   later   second   century   onwards   (as   the   situation   of   the   empire   became   less   favorable),   and   regularly   during   the   third,   to   be   put   on   the   curial   class,   as   the   only   alternative   to   the   increased   taxation   of   the   really   rich,   which   they   would   never   have   endured.” More   and   more   polarization   as   the   top   tenth   of   one   percent  gets  ever  richer.  –Wait,  that  sounds  familiar…11     Edward   Gibbon   called   the   process   of   disintegration   of   the   Roman   empire   “the   greatest,   perhaps,   and   most   awful   scene   in   the   history   of   mankind.” He   was   wrong— that  distinction  surely  belongs  to  the  transport  of  millions  of  Africans  to  the  Americas,   as  W.  E.  B.  DuBois  thought—but  the  opinion  is  understandable.  (The  collapse  of  Rome,   however,  will  seem  as  nothing  compared  to  the  collapse  of  the  present  world-­‐‑system  in   the  coming  century  or  two.)  The  tearing  apart  of  first  the  Western  Empire  and  then  the   Eastern,  by  the  Arabs  and  many  others,  coincided  with  an  intensification  of  horrors  by   the   Roman   overlords,   including   the   much   more   more   frequent   use   of   torture   and   mutilation,   not   to   mention   extortionate   taxation   of   the   lower   classes.   Corruption   was   rampant;  poor  men  accused  of  crimes  rotted  in  Roman  prisons  for  months  even  before   the   trial   happened.   (Luckily   that   kind   of   thing   never   happens   anymore!   Oh,   wait…)   Civil  wars  between  rival  claimants  for  the  throne  broke  out  at  the  time  of  the  barbarian   invasions,   and   plagues   had   disastrous   consequences   for   the   population.   And   the   innumerable  wars!  Meanwhile,  to  quote  an  anonymous  ancient  author,  “the  houses  of   the  powerful  were  crammed  full  and  their  splendor  enhanced  to  the  destruction  of  the   poor,  the  poorer  classes  of  course  being  held  down  by  force.  But  the  poor  were  driven   by   their   afflictions   into   various   criminal   enterprises,   and   losing   sight   of   all   respect   for   the  law,  all  feelings  of  loyalty,  they  entrusted  their  revenge  to  crime.  For  they  inflicted   the  most  severe  injuries  on  the  empire,  laying  waste  the  fields,  breaking  the  peace  with    See  Peter  Coy,  “The  Richest  Rich  Are  in  a  Class  by  Themselves,”  Business  Week,  April  3,  2014.   11 28 outbursts  of  brigandage,  stirring  up  animosities;  and  passing  from  one  crime  to  another   they  supported  usurpers.”     The   huge   army   and   civil   service   became   a   “fearful   burden” on   the   Graeco-­‐‑ Roman  economy,  sucking  up  more  and  more  surplus  from  the  peasantry  above  all.  In   addition,   from   the   second   decade   of   the   fourth   century   onwards   the   new   economic   burden   of   a   large   body   of   clerics,   monks,   and   nuns   appeared.   There   were   probably   hundreds  of  thousands  of  them  by  the  mid-­‐‑fifth  century.  Most  of  these  clerics  had  been   withdrawn   from   production   and   so   couldn’t   be   exploited   by   the   upper   class   or   contribute  financially  to  the  maintenance  of  the  state.  The  Church  itself,  which  became   fabulously   wealthy,   was   given   much   money   by   the   state   and   by   offerings   of   the   faithful—and  the  Church  was  economically  unproductive,  a  giant  parasite.  The  incomes   of  bishops  were  sometimes  larger  than  that  of  any  provincial  governor.  “The  staffing  of   the   Church   absorbed   far   more   manpower   than   did   the   secular   administration   [of   the   empire]  and  the  Church’s  salary  bill  was  far  heavier  than  that  of  the  empire.” (On  the   other  hand,  the  Church  did  give  perhaps  a  quarter  of  the  income  of  its  endowment  to   charity.  So  that  was  useful.)     I’ll  quote  the  book’s  last  paragraph:     I  hope  it  is  now  clear  how  I  would  explain,  through  a  class  analysis,  the  ultimate   disintegration  of  a  large  part  of  the  Roman  empire—although  of  course  a  Greek   core,  centered  above  all  in  Asia  Minor,  did  survive  for  centuries  [as  the  Byzantine   empire].  I  would  keep  firmly  in  view  the  process  of  exploitation  which  is  what  I   mean   primarily   when   I   speak   of   a   “class   struggle.” As   I   see   it,   the   Roman   political   system   (especially   when   Greek   democracy   had   been   wiped   out)   facilitated  a  most  intense  and  ultimately  destructive  economic  exploitation  of  the   great   mass   of   the   people,   whether   slave   or   free,   and   it   made   radical   reform   impossible.  The  result  was  that  the  propertied  class,  the  men  of  real  wealth,  who   had  deliberately  created  this  system  for  their  own  benefit,  drained  the  life-­‐‑blood   from  their  world  and  thus  destroyed  Graeco-­‐‑Roman  civilization  over  a  large  part   of   the   empire12… That,   I   believe,   was   the   principal   reason   for   the   decline   of   Classical  civilization.  I  would  suggest  that  the  causes  of  the  decline  were  above   all   economic   and   social.   The   very   hierarchical   political   structure   of   the   Roman   empire,  of  course,  played  an  important  part;  but  it  was  precisely  the  propertied   class   which   in   the   long   run   monopolized   political   power,   with   the   definite    Speaking   of   draining   life-­‐‑blood,   see   Steve   Johnson,   “Capital   gobbles   labour’s   share,   but   victory   is   empty,”   Financial   Times,   October   13,   2013.   As   the   wealthy   get   richer   and   richer,   aggregate  demand  shrinks,  which  leads  to  economic  stagnation  and  crisis.  Ultimately,  perhaps,   revolution.   12 29 purpose   of   maintaining   and   increasing   its   share   of   the   comparatively   small   surplus   that   could   be   extracted   from   the   primary   producers.   By   non-­‐‑Marxist   historians   this   process   has   normally   been   described   as   if   it   were   a   more   or   less   automatic   one,   something   that   “just   happened.” …[As   Peter   Brown   says,]   “Altogether,  the  prosperity  of  the  Mediterranean  world  seems  to  have  drained  to   the   top”   (my   italics)—Brown   is   speaking   of   the   fourth   century,   and   he   has   just   mentioned  that  in  the  western  part  of  the  empire,  in  that  century,  the  senatorial   aristocracy   was   “five   times   richer,   on   the   average,   than   the   senators   of   the   first   century.” …If  I  were  in  search  of  a  metaphor  to  describe  the  great  and  growing   concentration   of   wealth   in   the   hands   of   the   upper   classes,   I   would   not   incline   towards   anything   so   innocent   and   so   automatic   as   drainage:   I   should   want   to   think  in  terms  of  something  much  more  purposive  and  deliberate—perhaps  the   vampire   bat.   The   burden   of   maintaining   the   imperial   military   and   bureaucratic   machine,   and   the   Church,   in   addition   to   a   leisured   class   consisting   mainly   of   absentee   landowners,   fell   primarily   upon   the   peasantry,   who   formed   the   great   bulk  of  the  population;  and,  ironically  enough  (as  I  have  already  explained),  the   remarkable   military   and   administrative   reorganization   effected   by   a   series   of   very   able   emperors   from   the   late   third   century   to   the   end   of   the   fourth   (from   Diocletian   and   Constantine   to   Theodosius   I)   succeeded   in   creating   an   even   greater   number   of   economically   “idle   mouths” and   thus   increased   the   burdens   upon   an   already   overburdened   peasantry.   The   peasants   were   seldom   able   to   revolt  at  all,  and  never  successfully:  the  imperial  military  machine  saw  to  that… But  the  merciless  exploitation  of  the  peasants  made  many  of  them  receive,  if  not   with  enthusiasm  at  least  with  indifference,  the  barbarian  invaders  who  might  at   least   be   expected—vainly,   as   it   usually   turned   out—to   shatter   the   oppressive   imperial  financial  machine.  Those  who  have  been  chastised  with  scorpions  may   hope  for  something  better  if  they  think  they  will  be  chastised  only  with  whips.  [A   reference  to  a  verse  in  the  Old  Testament.]     Such  is  the  story  of  the  Roman  empire,  and  of  human  history.