II Democracy and the writing of history

In at least four well-known passages, Herodotus suggests that he himself had a clear notion of what a democracy could be and what it was like to live in one:

Within Herodotus’ Histories, Otanes’ character acts like a spokesperson for historiographic and democratic tenets which summarize much of what the primary narrator thinks about these issues. Independent of Otanes’ historicity,Footnote ⁶ it is remarkable how Herodotus depicts this character as behaving similarly to an ancient historian.Footnote ⁷ He devised a clever stratagem to unmask the false Smerdis by investigating through his own daughter whether the suspected usurper had ears or not; planning and inquiry (on his own part) and autopsy (on his daughter’s) play a decisive role in uncovering the false king (Hdt. 3.68–70). When the seven Persians discuss what to do to overthrow the usurper, Otanes argues for a prudent action (Hdt. 3.71). Finally, after advocating for isonomie (equality of political rights) and being defeated by Darius’ pro-monarchy arguments, Otanes cleverly guarantees for himself and his descendants a condition of permanent freedom as well as both practical and intellectual independence (οὔτε γὰρ ἄρχειν οὔτε ἄρχεσθαιἐθέλω, Hdt. 3.83.2). Otanes’ character alludes to the ideal condition any historian needs in order to write and live among both Greeks and non-Greeks, a condition quite similar to that which also defines any democratic environment. The absence of public constraints – arkhein and arkhesthai – describes a kind of eleutheria (freedom) regarded by different authors as an aim for both democratic life and the writing of history. Besides, Otanes’ example points directly to how a historian or a reader should act in order to fulfill Herodotus’ alluded ethical and political tenets.

The transferal of values associated with democracy into unexpected or alternative contexts places the representation of history (i.e., historiography) into a broader human effort that one may call allusive narrativity. Narrating the past is a mode of instilling meaning into thoughts and memories, precisely the same craft every historian partakes of with narrators of other genres. Allusive narrativity can be said to be the framing deviceFootnote ⁸ with which Herodotus inspires narrative responses from his audiences, quite often with actionable implications.

Historiography, the very act of uncovering, examining, and narrating the past, is an intrinsically receptive process. Historiography must always cope with interconnected narratives, either openly or not. By explicitly introducing democratic values into Persian circles, Herodotus utilizes a promising form of narrative heuristics while asserting his own historiographic authority and political ideologies without the onus of being considered a theoretician or a poet. Thus, he shows receivers how to attain extra-textual truths through the conscious use of an intentionally planned plot. The very existence of a researcher coming to know so precisely that amount of detail from the Persian king’s intimate conversations, as well as the peculiar constellation of democratic tenets so strongly marked in these discussions, defines the narrator’s authority as being halfway between the traditional narratives of the poet or the sage. A brief contrast with a contemporary practice can highlight how significant such an initiative must have been. In a world plunged into carelessly believed misinformation, such as the contemporary world, where the intentional forging of fictions through rearrangements of facts is common, the device envisaged by Herodotus is more than a narrative checker. It also defines a real effort towards an ethical commitment aspiring to an empirical truth – precisely what Herodotus’ democratic tenets amount to.

This kind of reception that the Histories give rise to is especially worth noting not for fomenting polarizations but for trying to reconcile and integrate apparent differences with deeper beliefs shared with his audience, maybe even with Persian courtiers. By choosing either to sow democratic seeds in Persian fields or to put a familiar paradigm side by side with a foreign example, or even implicitly and eclectically to mix issues which presuppose ethical concerns distinct from his own ethical beliefs, no matter what they are (as if in a search for a deeper stream of thought), Herodotus suggests that promoting mutual comprehension matters much more than rejoicing in pointless or divisive distinctions. By choosing to bridge the gaps between two sides grounded in such distinct cultural foundations in order to put them into a mutually illuminating perspective fostered by a unified narration, Herodotus makes a necessary first step towards solutions to the problems of his contemporaries, too. Choosing to remain alert to observable phenomena, availing himself of a broad perspective, and deciding to instill meaning in situations which would otherwise remain anecdotal or forgotten, so that others may be able to reflect and thus improve their own lives in a continuous chain of co-creative solidarity, also represent, however indirectly, the values the historian seems to be so deeply attached to. The passages discussed below in section III do not deal explicitly with the concept of democracy, yet they contribute directly to a broader conceptualization of democracy and its future implications: the Persians are actually presented as putting into practice a particular democratic attitude, albeit one limited to the king and his entourage. Such examples are not merely transcripts of oligarchic circles’ proceedings; the allusions they are charged with point straight to potentialities in which any democratic environment should be grounded.

Benjamin’s ‘die [Herodotean] Erzählung: sie verausgabt sich nicht’ (‘the narrative: it does not exhaust itself’) has become a truism, but a second direct consequence of Herodotus’ meditation is the intertwining of ethics and politics. In all Herodotean passages quoted in section III, the complete absence of democracy, the fundamental concept around which the cardinal values hitherto highlighted gravitate, is noteworthy. The practices of submitting something to debate, behaving moderately, speaking the truth overtly, and preserving and attaching oneself to freedom all stand as core foundations of every real democracy, ancient and contemporary. Herodotus alludes to the system of relationships to which all such values contribute, although not explicitly. Some notion of democracy, or at least the majority of core concepts Herodotus would have used to describe Athenian democracy, seems to lurk in the background of those passages. This does not seem to be an accidental occurrence.

III Herodotus’ allusions to democracy

Immediately after assuming the Persian throne and strongly urged by his cousin Mardonius to invade Greece, Xerxes apparently left some room for a collaborative decision about how to do it:Footnote ⁹ ‘I don’t want you thinking that I refuse to take anyone else’s views into consideration, so the matter is now open to debate (τίθημι τὸ πρῆγμα ἐς μέσον). Please feel free to speak your mind’ (Hdt. 7.8δ.2). Xerxes’ initiative echoes a previous one embedded in another Persian nobleman’s voicing of a democratic tenet. The expression es meson has already been attributed to Otanes when proposing isonomie as the best regime: ‘Otanes recommended entrusting the management of the country to the Persian people’ (Hdt. 3.80.2: Ὀτάνης μὲν ἐκέλευε ἐς μέσον Πέρσῃσι καταθεῖναι τὰ πρήγματα), then again a few paragraphs later: ‘Otanes spoke openly to all of them’ (Hdt. 3.83.1: ἔλεξε ἐς μέσον αὐτοῖσι τάδε). At first sight, Xerxes, although a king, is presented as someone who, like Otanes, has a deep concern for debate (es meson) as the best way to enforce decisions. At a deeper level, though, Herodotus, purportedly perhaps, ascribes to him a procedure explicitly associated with democracies in general and fifth-century Athenian democracy in particular: public deliberation of controversial issues and decisions made collectively.Footnote ¹⁰

Mardonius’ speech in this episode reinforces and amplifies his previous arguments from Hdt. 7.5.2. Furthermore, it ends with a remarkable observation: ‘Anyway, we should leave nothing untried. Nothing comes of its own accord (αὐτόματον); people invariably get things as a result of their own efforts’ (Hdt. 7.9γ). Xerxes’ uncle, Artabanus, however, who speaks next, vehemently disagrees. He also straightforwardly challenges Mardonius by suddenly and openly contradicting the general state of mind among the other advisers with both his acts and words.Footnote ¹¹ Artabanus irrupts as an automaton-like voice admonishing his nephew. In the middle of his argument come the following lines:

Artabanus explicitly voices two central beliefs whose long tradition has deep roots also in fifth-century Athenian democracy.Footnote ¹² He begins by analyzing how tykhe (fortune) or theos (divinity) allegedly operates, embedding this principle in a wise admonishment. His conclusions point to core ethical values that will be intrinsically, but not exclusively, associated with Athenian democratic practices by historians and tragedians as well: high esteem for eu bouleuesthai (good planning), divine prohibition of phroneein mega (pride), careful identification of how a slanderer (ho diaballon) acts, and why he is so damaging to a king, if not also to his state. The necessity of eu bouleuesthai and the admonishment against phroneein mega are ethical tenets without which the very existence of a democratic system of relations cannot be brought about or endure: both contribute to defining the virtue of metriotes (moderation) and the associated metrios (moderate) behaviour, and both remind Xerxes – and Herodotus’ audience – about the fundamental practice of aletheia (truth), the foundation of mutual pistis (trust), peitho (persuasion), and parrhesia (frankness) which any democracy must be built on (otherwise a climate of general suspicion would characterize any political system but a democracy).

At a deeper level, the passage also discloses the decisive role such allusions play for Herodotus as heuristic devices. Artabanus forces both Xerxes and Mardonius to comply with their own previous words or promises: if the king were really open to any opinion, here it is, uttered frankly against his deepest desires. If Mardonius indeed believed that nothing should be left untried, why not try Artabanus’ suggestion? Artabanus plays his best card in trying to show to his opponents how to act the right way. Herodotus’ allusion thus consists of a narrative device that also shows a clear-minded historian writing as if facing powerful adversaries, forcing them analogously to comply democratically – i.e., through proposals, truth, and frankness – with their own resolutions.

Before Xerxes’ crossing into Europe, the advice Artabanus gives to the king indirectly alludes to democratic practices. But when he is already facing a Greek army, Demaratus makes use of an explicit democratic practice, the appeal to truth-telling. He emphasizes the truthful nature of his own words both before and after his response to the king when asked why the Greeks were inclined to resist him:

Again, Demaratus forces Xerxes to comply with his own words: why not recognize and accept the plain truth and thus avoid the tragedy of a seemingly certain defeat? In a similar way to Artabanus, Demaratus also subtly advises the king to face his responsibilities by carefully pondering the possible consequences of his own actions – a strange situation for an absolute king to be trapped in, but one which is normal, even expected, for any citizen in a democracy.

The core of Demaratus’ truth is formed by two notions intimately associated with expressions of arete (virtue), ‘intelligence and the force of law’ (ἀρετὴ δὲ ἐπακτός ἐστι, ἀπό τε σοφίης κατεργασμένη καὶ νόμου ἰσχυροῦ, 7.102.1). Yet Xerxes refuses to believe in such excellence precisely because, in his own thoughts,

For the king, eleutheria (freedom) is a fundamental problem: he sees it as a hindrance, not a virtue. In order to strengthen his own point, Demaratus again feels compelled to tell the truth about his fellow men: ‘[t]he point is that although they’re free, they’re not entirely free (ἐλεύθεροι γὰρ ἐόντες οὐ πάντα ἐλεύθεροί εἰσι): their master is the law (δεσπότης νόμος), and they’re far more afraid of this than your men are of you’ (Hdt. 7.104.4). Such an argument seems phrased in a purportedly ambiguous manner so as to favour complementary readings. Explicitly, it seems to fully support S. Forsdyke’s understanding that ‘in Demaratus’ words, Spartan military courage does not depend on political freedom, as Athenian military strength does in Athenian democratic ideology. Spartan courage depends on law/custom (νόμος) and is socially enforced through shame’.Footnote ¹³ Yet a closer look suggests that, for contemporary audiences (i.e., not only Athenian), there were at least two valued ideas embedded in that speech. On the one hand, Athenians would also see themselves as free but not entirely free, since they too acknowledge nomoi as the foundation of their democracy.Footnote ¹⁴ On the other hand, the very idea of having a nomos as despotes, and fighting under that despotes, is not necessarily what had made the Spartans courageous. In the case of Athenians, precisely the opposite happened; in 5.78, Herodotus states that ‘while they [Athenians] were under an oppressive regime they fought below their best (ἐθελοκάκεον) because they were working for a master (δεσπότῃ)’ (emphasis mine). Besides, having a nomos as despotes is quite different from living under a tyranny, according to Herodotus’ very same words, which considerably alter the meaning of despotes in 7.104.4 in comparison with 5.78: ‘rule of law’ is precisely what characterizes any democracy in general and the Athenian one in particular. In these brief statements, Demaratus pins down the essential relationship of truth, law, and freedom that represents a democratic environment. If his explicit reference is to an idealized Spartan context, the bond between truth, law, and freedom is not exclusive to such an aristocratic context and is no less fundamental for democratic environments. Combined with the parrhesia (frankness) that is the hallmark of Demaratus’ whole speech, truth defines its external and all-embracing ends; law, as a central reference in this speech, defines its ethical and material foundation; and freedom, as the overall state which permeates entire communities, is presented as the utmost common by-product of both. In the centre of the imaginary triangle constituted by these three principles, there is an allusive but sufficiently clear description of at least four ethical and political tenets of the fifth-century Athenian democracy: parrhesia (frankness), aletheia (truth), nomos (law), and eleutheria (freedom).

The dialogue between Xerxes and his advisers is also telling because of what it conveys, not only through its contents but also through its form. By putting something es meson to be discussed and to be decided only after eu bouleuesthai (good planning) and by agreeing to listen to an aletheia, which emphasizes a notion of eleutheria diametrically distinct from that practised by the king himself, the dialogue conveys that even in strictly closed or autocratic regimes a minimum of democratic practices, however restricted to the innermost circle, is necessary for both one’s own survival and fulfilment of the autocrat’s orders – no one reigns alone. This minimum is perhaps not extended to the whole body of subjects precisely because a democratic-like way of governing is seen as a desirable condition by those who are able to experience it plainly.

The same ideas are also found in the next book. After Salamis, Mardonius tries to offer an agreement (ὁμολογέειν) to the Athenians. He employs the Macedonian king Alexander to convey his proposal. If the Athenians agree to surrender, they would be granted autonomy (αὐτόνομοι). Mardonius, through Alexander, thus concludes: ‘[b]e free, by making a treaty with us, without treachery and deceit, and joining our military alliance’ (ἔστε ἐλεύθεροι, ἡμῖν ὁμαιχμίην συνθέμενοι ἄνευ τε δόλου καὶ ἀπάτης, Hdt. 8.140α.4). Spartan messengers present at the meeting exhort the Athenians to remember their role as liberators (ἐλευθερώσαντες) and not to accept Alexander’s terms, since ‘he is a despot (τύραννος), and despots support one another. But you do not have to follow his example, and if you have any sense, you won’t, because, as you know, these foreigners are completely unreliable and dishonest (οὔτε πιστὸν οὔτε ἀληθὲς οὐδέν)’ (Hdt. 8.142.5). Accordingly, the Athenians immediately reply to Alexander: ‘we are so focused on freedom (ἐλευθερίης γλιχόμενοι) that we will fight for it however we can. Don’t try to persuade (ἀναπείθειν) us to come to terms (ὁμολογῆσαι) with Persia; we are not going to do so’ (Hdt. 8.143.1).Footnote ¹⁵

Nowhere in this brief scene is the word ‘democracy’ evoked to offset the Athenian outspokenness against the despotism deeply associated with the Persians and Macedonians. Tyranny, on the other hand, shows up twice and has its meaning strengthened by the constellation of derogatory values associated by contrast with it in both the attitudes and words of Mardonius and Alexander. These values are defined by the negative use of persuasion through deceit, treachery, and dishonesty or falsity, describing both the kind of agreement and autonomy the Athenians could expect from the Persians. Freedom, on the contrary, stands alone to define both the sphere within which the Athenians see themselves and the essential value to which they claim to be entitled, characteristics with which, and within which, a democracy can flourish. Furthermore, the conclusion of such a speech could not be different: there can be no agreement between allegedly democratic and tyrannical tenets. Accordingly, the Athenians’ attempt to compel Mardonius to act as he wishes in accordance with his own implicit threats reproduces the implicit threat the Persians tried to frighten them with, a threat which could be phrased as ‘respect our neutrality or act as you prefer’.

The metriotes (moderation) recommended to Xerxes by Artabanus, as well the aletheia (truth) heralded by Demaratus as the eleutheria (freedom) the Greeks – Athenians in particular – are described as so strongly attached to, inform intentional, intra-narrative efforts displayed by the historian in order to transplant old and familiar ideas into new contexts, either consciously or simply because he was immersed in a specific Weltanschauung. The speeches of Herodotus’ characters are qualified as ‘intentional’ as necessarily resulting from voluntary and present-oriented initiatives purportedly ascribed by the historian to objects or past realities.Footnote ¹⁶ Each character invites the audience to take part in bridging the gap between what they conceive of as their present or future reality and the very act of receiving something else directly from the past. This active and cooperative role demanded from the reader determines how believable a narrative is as well as what still remains truthful in it, especially when it is impossible to discern which details are historically true or not.

This intentional effort has historical and historiographic implications as well. By projecting the concepts and notions that were at the time understood as intrinsically Greek, and perhaps exclusively Athenian, onto the Persian characters most opposed to democratic values, Herodotus crafted, like a novelist, a series of admonishments by contrast. Ascribing democratic-flavoured observations to the Persians in a subtle and ironic way allows the historian both to remove the constraints imposed by Greek audiences and to construct negative ethical examples these audiences would immediately recognize as applicable to themselves. The idea behind this practice, perhaps shared by Herodotus with his audiences, is that the Persians should not be seen as intrinsically politically different from them, since they also could have behaved democratically (as suggested by Sissa, n. 3); rather, Greeks are permanently under the threat of tyranny, even if they are not aware of its omnipresent risks. The Persians are depicted as hypothetical Greeks, if not specifically Athenians: their imperialistic impetus and misconducts are permeated by democratic admonishments, while the Athenian democratic excesses are inextricable from autocratic temptations. Herodotus mixes projective fiction with historical truth, inserting democratic values into autocratic-oriented environments (as he depicts them) so as to better warn his audiences about the political risks they themselves could be running at the time, risks continually voiced throughout the fifth century and in particular during the Peloponnesian War. Democracy, in other words, seems to be proposed by Herodotus as a peaceful and positive, if not also admonishing, counterpart to strict and brutal imperialism.

IV Trade-offs and implications

Insisting on practical meanings of eleutheria (freedom), whose actual expression combines forms of democracy such as isonomia (equality of political rights), isokratia (equal political authority), or isegoria (equal right to speak), contributes to creating the perception of democracy as an actionable possibility for all human beings, both Greek and non-Greek alike, rather than as an achievement restricted to specific Greek poleis. Historiography thus helps craft a virtual and expanded perception of freedom and truth able to challenge concurrent perceptions about what a democracy should be and whether it would be realizable beyond the sphere of Greek influence.

Projecting values associated with democracy into a Persian environment is a constant trope throughout the Histories,Footnote ¹⁷ as the passages discussed above show. It is prudent to ask, though, why the historian eschewed using explicit references to either isonomia or demokratia in the passages discussed in section III. The answer may lie in the fact that in such passages the agents involved in debates came close to fomenting a democratic, or at least a potentially more open, oligarchic environment, even if in fact the speakers just end up reinforcing opposing values that would strengthen self-centred autocratic practices. Far from meaning that democracy was not on Herodotus’ horizon, his allusions instead show that he has brought to the fore a consistent sample of the central and contemporary democratic values in order to exemplify what they could have achieved if only they had been effectively put into practice by the Persians. Those passages thus display a meditation on the ethical and political potentialities of a democracy that could be useful to Herodotus’ immediate or future audiences, constituted by either elite politicians or ordinary citizens.

The main significance of the passages discussed in section III may yet lie elsewhere. They display how opposites can be mutually illuminating – in this case, by demonstrating how fictions can help reinforce an important truth. A procedure accurately recreated along with its reception, through which fictions are intentionally arranged into a chain of meanings, gives rise to a larger truth such as those embedded in allusions which point to values intrinsic to democracy. In all of them, an authorial voice analogous to deliberate intra-diegetic fictionalization lies front and centre, but is intentionally controlled by internal narrative coherence rather than by historical reality. Instead of a reinforcement of self-centred personal beliefs that the author is eager to impose as truths, the allusive narrative interplay Herodotus articulates is a clever and efficient device to highlight precisely the elements it leaves unsaid and which unify the underlying hints at the democratic values discussed above. The ability to work along the border between fiction and truth, using the former to highlight the latter, perhaps constitutes the most fertile literary tool devised by ancient narratives, in particular historiographical. This tool also contributes to helping modern readers make better sense of a world where meanings change as fast as the narratives that convey them, as when democratically elected presidents behave as autocrats without refraining from harsh statements or attitudes, or when would-be autocracies pretend to play by the rules of a supposedly fair global game. Herodotus’ text remains a historical, historiographical, and ethical source of caveats permanently available to be incorporated into political strategies. Because of his characteristic allusive hints, though, his text behaves as an intricate web of potential meanings, rather than as a mirror, for the future.

The presumption of equivalences between reality and narrative is a form of naïveté which Herodotus seems to rebut, if not overtly mock, in at least three paradigmatic passages. The first of these occasions concerns the episode of Cambyses’ anger against Prexaspes (3.34–5).Footnote ¹⁸ Herodotus apparently believes the king to be insane; it is a very peculiar kind of insanity, though, as Cambyses seems to have taken the Persian habit of telling – and even living – the truth to its fullest extent. Cambyses asks Prexaspes about the truthfulness of what the Persians think and say about himself, and the servant replies that ‘they have nothing but good to say about you, except in one respect: they say that you are rather too fond of wine’ (Hdt. 3.34.2). The king immediately concludes that the Persians are not truthful, since both ideas imply a paradox. Cambyses decides to prove his own truthfulness to Prexaspes through a plan as insightful as it is cruel, proposing to shoot an arrow at the heart of the servant’s son:

The arrow, of course, hits the boy’s heart, which leads Cambyses to conclude: ‘So there you have it, Prexaspes! This proves that I am quite sane (οὐ μαίνομαι), and the Persians are out of their minds (παραφρονέουσι). Now, tell me: do you know anyone else in the world who can shoot an arrow with such accuracy (ἐπίσκοπα)?’ (Hdt. 3.35.4). It is not a coincidence that Prexaspes’ son was Cambyses’ wine-server; a drunken man would hardly have shot with that precision, nor would he shoot especially at someone who had supposedly been the agent of his drunkenness.Footnote ¹⁹

The second passage occurs when Darius suggests that the other six companions should act immediately and Otanes argues for ‘a more cautious approach’ (3.71–2). Darius then strongly reasserts his previous advice, even threatening to report the plot to the Magus. Otanes urges him to show them how to pass by the palace guards, to what Darius replies:

This dialogue shows, on the one hand, a shrewd and prudent man who was responsible for unmasking a usurper after having his suspicions proved correct. On the other hand, Darius represents the bold entrepreneur whom the extra-diegetic narrator represents as echoing almost the very same words of the recently deceased Cambyses: ‘whatever part treachery played in their acquisition of power must be matched by treachery on your side in depriving them of it again; whatever part force played in bringing them success must be matched by sheer force on your side in regaining control’ (Hdt. 3.65.6). The passage presents Darius in a dubious light and seems to suggest a metahistorical reflectionFootnote ²⁰ . The big picture, though, contrasts the man who a few paragraphs later will advocate for isonomia, with Darius, whose dubiety, along with all eventual suggestions his character may convey, should consequently also be associated with a strict advocacy of autocracy. By presenting Darius in such a light, Herodotus also suggests a cleavage between democratic and autocratic postures: the writing of history illuminates political issues and helps establish the equation between a democratic and a straight, open, and honest posture.

The third passage concerns the dolos (trickery) Zopyrus perpetrated to capture Babylon for Darius (Hdt. 3.151–60).Footnote ²¹ A prodigy is announced to Zopyrus by servants: one of the cargo mules had given birth. The counselor, meditating on what has happened, then recalls the words of a Babylonian who, from the top of the walls and in a mocking tone, had said that the Persians would only conquer the city when mules gave birth (3.151). Zopyrus takes the soldier’s bravado for a divine oracle, concluding that Babylon would be doomed to be conquered (3.153).

After talking with Darius and knowing about his strong desire to conquer the city, Zopyrus takes a radical and unique action, so that the honour of the conquest could in no way be held by another: he mutilates himself, cutting off his nose and ears, shearing his hair and self-harming, in order to penetrate the city as a supposed deserter (3.154). When he returns to the presence of Darius, his appearance is so horrendous and convincing that it provokes the king’s immediate indignation. He only changes his opinion when Zopyrus explains the strategy that would lead to the fall of the city: in a few days the king should send weak soldiers against Babylon, unworthy and poorly armed, to be killed by Zopyrus, who would thus gradually gain the confidence of the besieged. Only when the counsellor held the command of Babylon should Darius march with all his troops for the final attack (3.155).

Then Zopyrus sets out for the city, turning back often, as if he were truly a deserter. Lured by his appearance and statements, the Babylonians welcome him, expecting the truth from him. When the Babylonians give him battalions and see him slaughtering Darius’ soldiers, as he and the king had previously agreed, they are very satisfied, because his actions corresponded to his words. When they witnessed (ἰδόντες) a second victory, all Babylonians began to praise him (3.157.4). After the third victory, they make him their supreme commander and guardian of the walls. All the successes, of course, had already been planned in advance with the king and constituted the successful implementation of the plan – this, indeed, was the true meaning of the story. Finally, on the appointed day, Darius surrounds and conquers the city, and Zopyrus’ deceit becomes evident (τὸν δόλον ὁ Ζώπυρος ἐξέφαινε, 3.158.1). As a reward, the counsellor receives Babylon free from future taxation. The Babylonians practically put the city into his hands, because his words resembled the facts (3.157.3: μαθόντες δέ μιν οἱ βαβυλώνιοι τοῖσι ἔπεσι τὰ ἔργα παρεχόμενον ὁμοῖα).Footnote ²²

Herodotus realized the necessity of carefully building up truth to better understand reality. He seems to have clearly envisaged that to state an equivalence between narrative and reality it is necessary to deal with perceptions and formulations which intentionally inform the production of persuasive fictions, which every narrative necessarily performs. He understood that historical truth is not a non-mediated equivalence between reality and narrative but is instead a product of meticulously conceived chains of intentional perceptions examined and elaborated in order to supply the greatest number of hints enabling readers to conceive of what they can call reality. He knew and chose to put this technique into practice precisely because he was also perfectly aware of the other side: even by carefully selecting a series of truths or persuasive fictions, one can build up an even bigger lie, as the episode concerning Zopyrus’ treachery makes clear. Analogously, by alluding to democratic tenets as demonstrated in section III, Herodotus has put fiction in the service of truth, thus creating a common ground between his own intentions and his audiences, either Greek or future. By doing this, he also allows readers, both contemporary and modern, to reflect the other way round: instead of checking which concepts should be imported in order to create the concept of democracy, they are encouraged to analyze more thoroughly which concepts already impact from within the very democracy they are living in or aiming for. In other words, Herodotus’ work was tailored, among many other services, to help audiences build democratic values aiming at constructing conjunctures of stability and freedom.

V Concluding remarks

The use of allusions allows Herodotus to discuss constituent parts of a democracy, not only those specific to the Athenian democracy but also those appropriate to all possible forms of democracy. He tailors his narrative to readers broader than a specific Athenian audience, anyone eager to embrace the task of building up democratic societies. Democracy thus becomes not a system restricted to Greek contexts throughout the fifth century, nor a possibility envisaged by the Persians, nor even a paradigm to be used as a benchmark or doomed to disappear, but permanent food for thought accessible to whatever audience is willing to explore the historian’s web of meanings. Allusions function as bridges from the narrative level to practical tools to promote democracy, thus better fulfilling an unexpected social role.

Paying attention to Herodotus’ allusions such as those examined in this paper also reveals a subtle and powerful form of political strategy lurking in the Histories. To argue with a fool is by definition a foolish manoeuvre. Yet Herodotus depicts Artabanus, Demaratus, and the Athenians finding out ways not necessarily to persuade Xerxes and his intimate circle – they saw this as a pointless gesture towards characters tragically doomed to defeat or death. Insisting on the truths they saw as fundamental, to the point of making them publicly available to discussion even in the most risky situationsFootnote ²³ – in short, acting productively – is also a mode of civil disobedience towards something or someone they cannot accept and who cannot satisfy their innermost longing for justice, truth, and possibly a more democratically open way of decision-making. In the modern world, where several forms of Darius-like ambiguities are converted into political weapons (given that compulsive lying pays dividends for the would-be autocrat of the moment), attitudes such as those of Artabanus, Demaratus, and the Athenians – unshakeable, resilient lucidity – are analogous not only to those expected from any historian worth the title but are also fundamental to those who oppose expressions of that kind of practice. Artabanus, Demaratus, and the Athenians, and consequently Herodotus, teach audiences how to make those attempting to misleadingly force a sound character into endorsing a clearly malicious initiative comply with their own statements – a promising path to be followed whenever one needs, for instance, to dissent both democratically and efficiently from the far-right populists.