On getting lost, crumbling pillars, the power of a pile of pebbles, and remembering…



Although it was well past morning, I remained motionless in my cocoon – sheets, limbs, pillows balled up into an incomprehensible heap. 


It was November 9, 2016. The day after the US presidential election.  


The phone went unanswered, the beeps and dings ignored. The TV was silent. I don’t remember when I finally got up that day, got dressed, tried to function. What I do remember is the sudden inexplicable need to get out of the house, walk, wander, escape. 

I ended up on Πνύκα hill (Pnyka, Pnyx). In 2015 especially, (the height of the Greek financial crisis) I would often retreat to this hill. It is opposite the Acropolis – a mesmerizing view. Walking up to Pnyx hill, the noise of the city below would fall away and suddenly I’d find myself in a sort of ancient wonderland.

On that day I went to my usual spot. I sat there under an olive tree on a chunk of rock, lost. I stared at the view: the ultimate, universal representation of democracy – seeking what? Solace? An explanation? A reminder that democracy endures? Or that democracy inevitably crumbles into ruins, with people clambering over the remains like inquisitive ants?


Pnyx hill was, in ancient times, where the Athenian assembly would meet. It was the democratic embodiment of the right of citizens to speak – to discuss and debate matters of the state. It was one of the world’s first parliaments.  It is where statesmen and orators debated political issues of the time – Pericles, Demosthenes, Aristides, and Themistocles. 


What would they say if they were here today?


I closed my eyes and listened. Maybe the voices of the past were rooted in the energy of this place and would somehow give me a sign. But I heard nothing. All I could manage to do that day was sit and stare at ruins. 


I walked back down the hill, back onto the street. I felt like everything around me was falling apart.  Reality was the new Greece of capital controls and dismal decline, and now another new frightening reality was only beginning to unfold in the US.


Walking down towards Thisio, past a row of old neoclassical homes in various states of deterioration, an old man with a cane was slowly making his way down the hill. Talking to no one in particular, I heard him wistfully declare “Αχ, Αθήνα! Πουσαι παλιά Αθήνα;” (Oh Athens! Where are you, old Athens?) 


The world was certainly changing, in a constant state of flux. We were all feeling, perhaps, nostalgic for better days. And in the years that followed, we all (no matter where we came from or where we lived) seemed to collectively sigh and ponder: What’s happening? What happened to my world?


The more I thought about it, the more disillusioned I became. Does my vote even count anymore? In Greece’s 2015 referendum vote (yes or no for bailout conditions, which was interpreted as yes or no to remaining in the EU), although 61% voted no, the government basically overturned the vote and it was yes to harsh austerity conditions.  


In the 2016 US presidential election, although Trump lost the nationwide popular vote, he had the electoral votes to win the election. Russian interference in US elections, vote tampering… Why did I even bother making the effort to send for my absentee ballot and vote?


Each time I traveled back to the US, I thought of the old man in Thisio and his lament echoed in my ears, as on each trip an increasingly unrecognizable America unfolded before my eyes.  Where is the place I once knew? What is it becoming?  As time went by, I felt more and more removed from this new American reality. 


On November 16, 2016 – about a week after the election and my stunned retreat to Pnyx hill, President Obama stood on the Acropolis. On his last foreign trip in office, he came to Greece, to the birthplace of democracy. It was originally planned that President Obama would deliver his speech from Pnyx hill, but due to security concerns it was moved indoors to a newly-built cultural center.


Of course, President Obama said all the expected things in his speech about values, truth, justice, and upholding the democratic ideals that were born here.  


But watching the live images of President Obama on the Acropolis was like a gut punch. The irony. He was a leader who upheld the ideals of democracy with dignity and eloquence. What indignities would befall us in the coming years? What was President Obama really thinking as he toured the ruins? Did he feel as hopeless and disheartened as I did?


And now, three long years later, my Athenian life is punctuated with hearings, testimonies, lies, truths, corruption, tweets, rants, disbelief, disgust… as the impeachment trial drones on in the background on my TV screen. 


Last week, on November 16, facebook showed me my ‘memories’ – my posts from November 16 of previous years. Three years ago, I had posted a snapshot of President Obama’s motorcade that I took as it sped past the main road near my house, and later I had posted a photo of President Obama on the Acropolis.


I looked up President Obama’s speech from that day and read it carefully. He talked of ancient Athenian democracy and pointed out that: 


To have meaning, principles must be enshrined in laws and protected by institutions, and advanced through civic participation.  And so they gathered in a great assembly to debate and decide affairs of state, each citizen with the right to speak, casting their vote with a show of hands, or choosing a pebble -- white for yes, black for no.  Laws were etched in stone for all to see and abide by.  Courts, with citizen jurors, upheld that rule of law. Politicians weren’t always happy because sometimes the stones could be used to ostracize, banish those who did not behave themselves.   


I went back further still, turning to the ancient voices of the past. To those whose ideas shaped what would become our modern democracies. 


From the philosopher Aristotle (384–322 BC):


“Yes, the truth is that men's ambition and their desire to make money are among the most frequent causes of deliberate acts of injustice.”  



From Demosthenes (384-322 BC), the Athenian statesmen & orator:


“To become successful without deserving it encourages the fools to make evil plans.”


I read many quotes from the ancients and I realized that if they were here today, they would still be saying the same thing. And they wouldn’t at all be shocked and surprised. In their time, the statesmen who they voted to ostracize were accused of bribery, getting too friendly with the enemy, and dishonesty. Sound familiar? 


Ambition, greed, idiocy, corruption, narcissism are human traits that are timeless. Whether you are living in 350BC or 2019AD, these qualities in people, citizens, statesmen, leaders, CEOs, TV & movie moguls, managers, parliamentarians, presidents – are not bound by time, place or circumstances. As long as there are humans on this planet, we will, time and time again, experience the fallout of these destructive personal qualities.  


Among my favorite quotes is this one. From the philosopher Epicurus (341–270 BC):


“Only one principle will give you courage, that is the principle that no evil lasts forever nor indeed for very long.” 


Whether the ballot is a pebble, a show of hands, a piece of pottery, an absentee ballot, an e-vote – you have to weigh your decision, raise your voice, and cast your vote. The outcome may cause us to feel joy, vindication, optimism, heartbreak, anger, disappointment or just plain lost. 


But if the system is imperfect, it’s up to us to fix it. I still have hope and remember that yes, we can.
 

Ostracon – a piece of pottery used, in ancient Athens, as a ballot. Citizens would write the name of the person they voted to be banished, or ostracized from society








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