How Cleon became a cautionary tale

Last month in a piece on populism, Pericles’ and Cleon’s methods of persuading the Athenian assembly to do their bidding were analyzed: Pericles calm and persuasive, Cleon taking to court or viciously slandering his elite rivals. But Cleon did also have his moment of glory, in circumstances quite extraordinary even by the standards of Athenian democracy. It was described by the historian Thucydides, a contemporary (though he was in exile for an earlier military failure).

In 425 BC, in the lengthy war between Athens and Sparta, the Athenians — who ruled the sea — had trapped 400 Spartans on the island of Sphacteria. They wanted to take them hostage but had been unable to do so — and with winter approaching, making sailing impossible, the situation was desperate. Back in Athens the people’s assembly was becoming more and more angry at this failure, wishing Cleon had not persuaded them to turn down an earlier offer of negotiations. Now unpopular, Cleon claimed the reports were all lies, but he backed down when told to go and see for himself, instead demanding that an additional force be sent out.

Nicias, a general appointed for that year, was present, and Cleon turned on him, wondering if he was a real man and saying he (Cleon) could take the Spartans, no problem. Nicias told him to get on with it. Cleon took fright and recanted, but Nicias offered Cleon his command. The more Cleon backtracked, the more the crowd shouted at him (“as crowds do”) and told Nicias to hand over the command. At this point, Athens being a real democracy, the people got what they wanted: Cleon accepted the command, saying he would get the Spartans off in twenty days or kill them on the spot. The assembly fell about laughing, but some were delighted: either Cleon would succeed, or that would be the last of him.

Incredibly, Cleon delivered on his promise, and in twenty days too. And it paid off: his exploit gained him the prestige he longed for, and in 424 BC he was made a general — a member of the elite, at last! But not for long: he was killed on campaign two years later.

This article was originally published in The Spectator’s April 2024 World edition.