"He [Alexander] laid out the site and traced the streets skilfully and ordered that the city should be called Alexandria after him. It was conveniently situated near the harbour of Pharos, and by selecting the right angle of the streets, Alexander made the city breathe with etesian winds so that, as those blow across a great expanse of the sea, they cool the air of the town; and so he provided its inhabitants with a moderate climate and good health … The city in general has grown so much in later times that many reckon it to be the first city of the civilised world and it is certainly far ahead of all the rest in elegance and extent and riches and luxury." (Diod. 17.52.1-5)
In such glowing terms does Diodorus Siculus describe Alexandreia-by-Egypt, which he visited in the year 59 BCE. We should note that Diodorus' description is being written against the background of Rome, that other great imperial capital (Strootman and von Reden, 2019). Long after its founder had died, and even after its Ptolemaic inheritors passed into memory, Alexandreia continued to compete with Rome as an imperial metropolis. Yet, we should not forget the polis component of that name, for Alexander had acted as the very archetype of Greek city-founder, giving it walls, an agora, and distributing its lands (Strootman and von Reden, 2019). And in the years following his death, his Successors, hardly shy themselves about laying claim to royal dignity, followed in his footsteps, and new poleis were soon being founded left and right bearing their dynastic names. Which brings us to today's question, what was the importance of the Greek poleis in a world of kings and kingdoms, how did they adapt to the new reality, and why did our Hellenistic kings care so much?
Ahem. A confluence of factors have moved me to write this, which can be considered a sequel of sorts to my last essay regarding the Seleucids. From @Cetashwayo expressing a general interest, to some of my recent readings on the topic, and finally being confronted with some frankly … odd remarks in the ACOUP comment section, I have decided to put together something a bit more substantial addressing the role of the Greek poleis in the Hellenistic period. This is a complicated topic, and I will be chiefly focused on interactions and dynamics between king and city in the Seleucid Empire, but nevertheless much of this will still be applicable to the other Hellenistic kingdoms.
Background
A polis was many things. Asty and chora, or an urban centre and its territory. It was a community that claimed some common descent, a set of shared institutions and rituals, and it was inherently a politicised society. It was also, most pertinently to the present discussion, a state unto itself by design, with its own government and military and taxes. The freedom and independence of the poleis was a commonplace in Greek culture and politics, even if this was often more aspiration than reality (Ma, 2000).
But the Hellenistic period was also an age of kings. The Seleucids, Ptolemaics, and Antigonids each had their kingdoms, but there were others besides, and there is an obvious and inherent tension between the ideals that prescribed 'freedom and autonomy' for the poleis and those that valorised 'spear-won land' and the might of monarchs. In light of this, it can be tempting to downscale and minimise the role of the poleis in this age as one of 'towns … left to run themselves', in comparison to the vibrancy of their classical forebears (Green, 1990).
But I might equally contend that it would be a mistake to dismiss them. These same 'towns' could make their displeasure felt, as Seleucus VI discovered quite painfully in 94 BCE. Residing at the time in Seleukeia-on-the-Pyramos/Mopsuestia in Cilicia, he thought to increase the war levies imposed upon the Cilicians. In response, the citizens of Mopsuestia burned him to death in the city's gymnasium, a reasonably stark expression of their dissatisfaction (Ramsey, 2023).
There is more that I can say about this, but first it will be necessary to lay some more groundwork, and discuss some of the pivotal events that saw the Hellenistic kingdoms emerge from the high drama of Alexander's funeral games.
The Wars of the Successors (323–281 BCE)
The death of Alexander set off a cascade of events that transformed the eastern Mediterranean into a constantly shifting patchwork of borders and alliances for the next few decades. By way of example, for the half-century between 323 BCE and until the reign of Antiochus I, the city of Sardeis was made to endure seven changes of regime and three sieges, and could enjoy barely a decade of stability. This was exceptional even for the Wars of the Diadochi, but it serves to illustrate the chaos of the times (Kosmin, 2019).
As the imperial order of Alexander began to crumble, his heirs were busily establishing their own, by turns imitating Alexander and improvising new solutions in their ongoing struggles with one another. While it would not be until 306/5 BCE that any of them formally laid claim to the title basileus, indeed they almost all did that year, the Successors were often acting like kings in practice already a decade before that point (Wallace, 2017).
A full rundown of the Wars of the Successors is beyond the scope of this text, but between 322 and 311 BCE we can already see many of the hallmarks which we will be discussing further. Rhetorical battles for the loyalty of the Greek cities of Asia Minor and Europe, as Polyperchon pioneered with his announcement of general amnesty for the poleis in 319. In 316, Cassander both restored the polis of Thebes, reversing Alexander's destruction of the city, and founded the polis of Kassandreia via the amalgamation of 17 pre-exisiting poleis, including two that Philip II had destroyed earlier, the first major eponymous royal city foundations (Boehm, 2018).
The response from Antigonus I Monophthalmus and Ptolemy I Soter was telling. The former marshalled his army at Tyre, denounced Cassander's marriage to Alexander's half-sister, insisted that he raze Kassandreia and Thebes as enemies of the Macedonians, and submit to Antigonus as guardian of the kingdom, even while he also insisted that the Greek cities should be free and ungarrisoned. Ptolemy issued a similar decree shortly after, yet Cassander was not moved to do anything of the sort. The balance of Greek opinion was, at this time, solidly in his favour, and Antigonus was forced to back down (Boehm, 2018).
As the manoeuvring demonstrates, battling for the loyalty of the Greek cities was important to these men. Demetrius I Poliorcetes' (son of Antigonus) actions in 287 BCE after losing his kingdom provide another telling example, as better scholars than I have noted that it was a 'sign of the improvisational nature of early Hellenistic kingship, and its foundation in the support of communities, that the principal means by which he sought to regain power was to canvass support among the Greek cities' (Mackil, 2015). In the context of the Diadochs' conflicts with one another, every one of them understood the need to appeal to and win the support of local communities if they were to have any hope of prevailing against the rest. Set against this backdrop, rhetoric surrounding the 'freedom and autonomy of the Greek cities' was only to be expected. We can set aside how sincere these proclamations were for the moment. What is key is what such rhetoric and efforts tell us about how the new imperial authorities tried to organise their nascent realms through such interactions (Boehm, 2018).
Similarly, the establishment of Kassandreia, alongside the other major royal city foundations of the time in Antigoneia, Thessalonike, Seleukeia, and Lysimacheia were major interventions that reconfigured local geographies and concentrated resources in new urban centres, sometimes privileging previously peripheral regions like the Seleucid foundations in northern Syria and the middle Tigris, and Thessalonike in Mygdonia (Kosmin, 2014; Boehm, 2018). Likewise, Lysimachus is described joining Lebedos with Ephesus, so that the latter city might become greater through the resources provided by the union, and the city rose to become one of Asia Minor's foremost commercial centres (Boehm, 2018). It is worth pausing here to consider the rupture this could represent. Damascus in southern Syria had served as a regional centre and later satrapial capital for 400 years under the Neo-Assyrian, Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid empires each in turn, and Alexander had happily continued the tradition. But with the division of Syria between Ptolemy and Seleucus, and the foundation of the new Hellenistic urban centres in the Seleucis to the north and the polis of Ptolemais-Akko to the south, the city was pushed to the margins, no longer housing a mint and passed over by the Ptolemaic official Zenon in his tour of southern Syria (Kosmin, 2021).
The Greek Cities and Euergetism
We have already highlighted some of the importance the poleis held for the Diadochs, both practically and symbolically, but we must now give some thought to the modes of their interactions, how the royal-civic dialogue happened, and the importance thereof. The term used academically for this is euergetism, and it became the ideal mode of interaction between royal and civic authorities in this time.
An illustrative example of royal euergetism in action can be seen in Antigonus' letters to the cities of Teos and Lebedos, which he was attempting to merge. Antigonus presents himself as a concerned outsider, his instructions and commands rendered implicit, presented as simply 'advice', prefaced with the gentle injunction 'we think it best' (Boehm, 2018). One key point that is conveyed to us via the sources at this time is the evident anxiety of Teos and Lebedos to retain as much economic freedom as possible, as seen when they wished to set aside some of their revenues in a fund, from which their citizens could borrow for grain imports. Antigonus was opposed, noting his wish for the cities to remain free of debts, and that anyway there were plenty of royal lands nearby from which they could import grain. His concerns may have been genuine, but such a setup presumably advantaged him more than the cities were willing to accept. In the end he granted Teos and Lebedos the privilege they wanted, with the stipulation that all such imports and exports had to be declared in the agora (Boehm, 2018).
The exchange highlights some of the aspects of such interactions in the early Hellenistic. We can make a note of the language being used, where the king is careful not to come across as a tyrant or despot, imposing demands and commands, but a concerned outsider and benefactor, stressing his goodwill and good intentions towards them. Secondly, the fact that the king can grant or revoke privileges, and the efforts exerted by the cities to secure such grants. Antigonus is without question mightier, the relationship is asymmetric and lopsided in his favour, but this manner of treating with the cities leaves these ugly realities unsaid, which gives the cities a degree of leverage.
100 years later, during the reign of the Seleucid king Antiochus III, these themes are again visible in even more detail. We can consider the letter of Laodike III, wife to the king, to the city of Iasos, ca. 196 BCE. The city had recently fallen into hardship, both an earthquake and an untimely attack by the Seleucid king. Laodike writes:
Queen Laodike to the council and the people of the Iasians, greetings. Having often heard from my brother what urgent help he continually deploys for his friends and allies, and that after recovering your city as it had fallen into unexpected calamities, he gave back to you your liberty and your laws, and in the other matters he strives to increase the citizen body and bring it to a better condition, and making it my own intention to act in accordance with his zeal and eagerness, and, because of this, to confer some benefaction on the poor among the citizens, and a general advantage to the whole people, I have written to Strouthion the dioiketes for him to send along to the city one thousand Attic medimnoi of wheat a year, for ten years, and them over to the representatives of the city…
This rather long sentence, which is only an extract of the full letter, details not only a specific bit of royal benefaction, but also what motivated the queen to do so. Specifically, she notes the benevolent disposition of her husband, the king, and her own decision to act likewise. The implications are manifold. What is key is that accepting this gift would dissuade the Iasians from disputing the explicit and implicit claims in the letter. Laodike is acting in this way because she is imitating Antiochus' benevolence. Ergo, Antiochus must be benevolent, for 'reacquiring' your city and giving you back your liberty and laws. These claims are treated as facts that culminate in the grain grant. The power dynamics at play are incidental, what is key is the very act of giving, or granting (Ma, 2000).
I should note as an aside that this is not an insubstantial gift. Laodike is pledging to provide the Iasians 40 tonnes of wheat a year for a duration of ten years, and she further issues instructions to use the incomes raised by the selling of that grain for the dowries of poor citizens' daughters. Laodike describes it as 'a benefaction to the poor citizens and a common service to the whole people'.
Seen more broadly, euergetism in the form of gift-giving, be it a grant of grain as above, or by funding building projects within the city, or arranging for an oracle of Apollo to sanction arbitration of conflict are all means through which the Seleucid state, as well as the other Hellenistic monarchies, might extend their influence into the internal affairs of a formally 'free' city. Doing so fosters goodwill, boosts the king's legitimacy, and gives him other avenues through which to exert influence rather than simply issuing commands via his subordinates; the regional commanders, satraps, epistatai and hyparchoi (Chrubrasik, 2016). An element that we see in Seleucid royal-city interactions is the use of royal lands to build these connections, what we might call 'land as currency'. A classic example being when Laodike I purchased the village of Pannoukome from her husband Antiochus II, where the dossier recording the sale informs us that Laodike I had permission to attach her new village to a city of her choosing (Klokow, 2023).
But there is more to this than simply royal will. They are not the only ones with agency, as the previous example where Antigonus acquiesced to the demands of Teos and Lebedos makes clear. Royal gift-giving featured as part of a dialogue between king and city. Returning to Laodike III's gift to Iasos, she later in the same text promises future benefactions so long as the Iasians behave 'as is appropriate'. And so royal gifts and letters find their counterpart in civic decrees and honours, in embassies to the king, communicating the city's well-wishes and gratitude, their prayers and sacrifices for his health and welfare. But these decrees viewed the king from local perspectives rather than adopting an imperial view, defining the polis community's own political existence and dignity as beyond simply something that was part of the king's patrimony (Ma, 2000).
A city might also proactively petition the royal party in this manner. After being reconquered and sacked by Antiochus III, Sardeis wasted little time in decreeing honours for Laodike III, including a temenos (a slice of land dedicated to her), a festival named after her, and sacrifices to Zeus Genethlios for the safety of her and her husband and children. This in turn let them start a diplomatic interaction, precisely because they were now engaging in the language and norms of euergetism. Consequently, as she could hardly refuse the honours of the Sardians, Laodike acknowledged them, praised their enthusiasm, and promised future benefactions to the city. Her husband Antiochus followed suit, and in a later letter to the Sardians was discussing his commitment to their welfare and how he might improve their situation. The city of Herakleia, similarly, decreed a raft of honours for the king and his family, that were communicated by twenty-two envoys right alongside a bunch of dossiers on privileges they would like to keep or benefactions they would like to request. These included gifts in nature or in kind, tax-exemptions, and territory. Antiochus and his subordinate Zeuxis seem to have acquiesced to most of these as well (Ma, 2000).
All this is pithily summarised by John Ma in Antiochos III and the Cities of Asia Minor as 'I give, in order that you give, in order that I give', a continuous cycle and dialogue involving gift-giving and reciprocity, motivated by the 'goodwill', 'zeal' and 'enthusiasm' of the relevant parties (Ma, 2000).
If we take a step back, we can also consider the broader impact. In much the same way that Cassander's actions in 316 BCE were enough to sway public opinion of the Greek cities to his side in his ongoing conflicts with the other successors, so too did the communications between the king and individual cities also have a wider audience. Teos and Iasos described Antiochus III in their decrees as acting the way he did before 'all the Greeks'. The honours that a city might decree for the royal family, which we have just discussed, were by their nature public things. Public buildings, festivals and rituals honouring Antiochus and Laodike would have been visible to any foreigner visiting the city, speaking openly of their generosity and gifts (Ma, 2000).
Consequently, both royal letters and civic decrees, despite certain differences in how they are communicated and publicised, share certain 'genre' elements, as it were. Continuous references to past events and precedents were common. This also communicated the expectation of future benefactions, as indeed some of the quotes above make explicit. Thus, a Teian decree praising Antiochos III remarks on 'the great advantages through which our city has reached happiness—some of which he now is bringing about, some he will bring about'. Antiochus, in turn, mentions that his actions are 'in accordance with the example [of my ancestors]'. Both parties are engaging with, and seeking to effect certain outcomes through, this talk of precedent and norms. The cities can exert a degree of 'moral pressure' on the king and his officials, because as benefactors they need to accept certain obligations to the city, noting past examples of royal goodwill and the city's own venerable history and political identity. The royal couple and their subordinates in turn justify their activities by noting their sincere feelings and initiative, with reference to the dynastic past, and can exert 'moral pressure' as well, because as recipients and beneficiaries of royal goodwill, the cities accept an obligation to them in turn (Ma, 2000).
When Euergetism Breaks Down
As we have previously seen, euergetic interactions could resume in shockingly short amounts of time after violent episodes between king and city. Antiochus III with his army had sacked Sardeis, and fallen upon Iasos, yet both cities were engaging with himself and his queen shortly thereafter with talk of honours and benefactions. In these communications, the topic of violence was largely elided. These past altercations were described as 'unexpected mishaps', and cities were 'beleaguered by unpleasant accidents', brought about by the whims of fate (Ma, 2000; Ramsey, 2023). Blame is not ascribed to any single actor by either party, certainly not the king. The royal army might attack a city, citing insurgents or rebellion, but they do not name names, or give numbers, or discuss why a city population might revolt. The crackdown is simply justified. Both sides promulgate their distinct narrative, ones that conspicuously omit those unpleasant details that serve as a hindrance to reconciliation and amnesty, and which smooth over the incompatibilities between royal and civic ideology, what Ramsey (2023) terms 'amnesia narratives'.
But Seleucus VI's death by burning should suffice to show us that when constructive communication and reciprocal dialogue of honours and gifts broke down, the results could swiftly turn painful. We can consider this episode in greater detail now, with the knowledge of the previous paragraphs. It is relatively easy to infer that Seleucus was imposing upon Mopsuestians; he had taken the city's gymnasium for use as his palace, a very obvious bit of interference in civic life, denying the citizens the use of one of their public institutions. Even if he had brought with him his own staff, he and his court would still have been a drain on civic resources for the duration of their stay there. Nor was Mopsuestia/Seleukeia-on-the-Pyramos a city of the same stature as Alexandreia-by-Egypt, Antiocheia-by-Daphne or Sardeis, imperial metropoleis and regional centres that hosted kings and their entourages regularly. The 1st century historian Appian describes Seleucus VI as 'violent and very tyrannical'. It is difficult to see Seleucus VI here as living up to the 'example of his ancestors', as his ancestor Antiochus III might have put it. All these things could plausibly help explain why the Mopsuestians finally decided that enough was enough, that they would rather resort to regicide rather than put up with his demands, which they deemed illegitimate (Ramsey, 2023).
A similarly violent altercation, between the Seleucid king Demetrius II and the citizens of Antiocheia-by-Daphne in 145 BCE, is also illustrative. Having only recently secured the city after prevailing over his rivals to the throne, Demetrius was bringing in 3000 Judean mercenaries into the city while preparing for winter, an indication that he did not trust the citizens and did not feel secure. Tensions escalated, with rumours and angry remarks about their new king in the city streets, while the king angrily issued punishments to city leaders that had sided with his enemies, and before long there was violence in the streets (Ramsey, 2023).
Diodorus provides us some insights into the king's behaviour:
'Scorning, therefore, to ingratiate himself with the populace as was customary, and waxing ever more burdensome in his demands upon them, he sank into ways of despotic brutality and extravagantly lawless behaviour of every sort.'
Furthermore, he despised 'habitual obsequiousness to the crowd'. Yet as we have just discussed at length, this 'habitual obsequiousness' was a key hallmark of the euergesia of his ancestors, and his scorn for it prevented an already unpopular monarch from ingratiating himself to the citizens living right outside his palace. Demetrius' neglect for these things are instead described as leading to 'excesses of diverse injustices', cruelty, and unjust demands and commands, suggesting that all that energy that his predecessors had invested in euergesia had also curbed some of the worst tendencies inherent to monarchical and imperial leadership (Ramsey, 2023).
In these circumstances, those cornerstones of Greek political thought, that of polis autonomy and freedom, became powerful ideas to rally around. Seen from the civic point of view, Demetrius II was infringing on the liberties of the Antiochenes, just as Seleucus VI was cruelly disregarding the rights of the Mopsuestians. The tensions and contradictions between 'spear-won land' and 'freedom and autonomy' which were carefully elided and defused in previous examples were becoming painfully stark. But because these men were either unwilling, or unable, to engage in euergesia, both parties were unable to achieve any sort of reconciliation, unable to redress past grievances, and made violence seemingly inevitable. There would be no 'amnesia' here (Ramsey, 2023).
As I remarked at the start of this essay, the polis ideals of freedom and autonomy were often more aspirational than real. Cities like Alexandreia-by-Egypt and Seleukeia-on-the-Tigris had never meaningfully existed as 'free' poleis, founded by Macedonian kings as imperial centres at their inception, these cities had only ever existed as part of integrated regional economies and as centres of royal prestige and dignity (Ramsey, 2023). The Cilician poleis had likewise lived with Ptolemaic and Seleucid suzerainty for nigh on two centuries by the time of Seleucus VI's death. Yet they, like their more venerable counterparts such as Thebes, Athens and Ephesus, could be powerfully moved by such political ideas.
Conclusions
The polis continued to function as a cornerstone of Greek political life in the Hellenistic era. For the Successors, in the wake of Alexander's death, getting these urban centres on-side was key in an age when appeals to simply the Macedonian contingent of their far-flung realms was no longer effective, in much the same way that these men needed to find ways to legitimate their rule to all the other populations of Asia and Egypt and Europe. They appealed to the old poleis and founded new ones bearing their names, moving populations and investing in their development, stamping their mark and name across the landscape, with many of their key foundations enduring to this day. Bit by bit, the furious improvisation and innovation of this era became traditional for those that would follow, and by the time of Antiochus III a century later we had fairly consistent norms for king-city interactions, its forms and its language.
The cities that found themselves part of these realms and under the suzerainty of the Hellenistic kings nevertheless consistently and continuously emphasised their political existence as something discrete in their communications with the king, rooted in a local past, not a royal one, even as they acknowledged his might. They strove to realise 'freedom and autonomy' on their own terms, sometimes petitioning kings for economic privileges, sometimes with recourse to violence. Through euergetism, we see one means through which these tensions and conflicting agendas could be mediated, and some degree of goodwill and order prevail, where both parties could promote the narrative they most preferred.
Bibliography:
Boehm, R. (2018). City and Empire in the Age of the Successors: Urbanization and Social Response in the Making of the Hellenistic Kingdoms. University of California Press.
Chrubasik, B. (2016). Kings and Usurpers in the Seleukid Empire: The Men who would be King. Oxford University Press.
Klokow, D. (2023). Connectivity and Rural Spaces in the Seleukid Empire. In A. Coskun and R. Wenghofer (Eds.), Seleukid Ideology: Creation, Reception and Response. Franz Steiner Verlag.
Kosmin, P. J. (2014). Land of the Elephant Kings. Harvard University Press.
Kosmin, P, J. (2019). Remaking a City: Sardis in the Long Third Century. In A. M. Berlin and P. J. Kosmin (Eds.), Spear-Won Land: Sardis from the King's Peace to the Peace of Apamea. University of Wisconsin Press.
Kosmin, P. J. (2021). Overview: The Middle Maccabees in Context. In A. M. Berlin and P. J. Kosmin (Eds.), The Middle Maccabees: Archaeology, History, and the Rise of the Hasmonean Kingdom. The Society of Biblical Literature.
Ma, J. (2000). Antiochos III and the Cities of Asia Minor. Oxford University Press.
Mackil, E. (2015). Creating a Common Polity: Religion, Economy, and Politics in the Making of the Greek Koinon. University of California Press.
Ramsey, G. (2023). Rebel Poleis: The Politics of Anti-Seleukid Violence. In A. Coskun and R. Wenghofer (Eds.), Seleukid Ideology: Creation, Reception and Response. Franz Steiner Verlag.
von Reden, S. and Strootman, R. (2021). Imperial metropoleis and Foundation Myths: Ptolemaic and Seleucid Capitals Compared. In C. Fischer-Bovet and S. von Reden. (Eds.), Comparing the Ptolemaic and Seleucid Empires: Integration, Communication, and Resistance. Cambridge University Press.
Wallace, S. (2017). Court, Kingship and Royal Style in the Early Hellenistic Period. In A. Erskine, L. Llewellyn-Jones and S. Wallace (Eds.), The Hellenistic Court: Monarchic Power and Elite Society from Alexander to Cleopatra. Classical Press of Wales.
In such glowing terms does Diodorus Siculus describe Alexandreia-by-Egypt, which he visited in the year 59 BCE. We should note that Diodorus' description is being written against the background of Rome, that other great imperial capital (Strootman and von Reden, 2019). Long after its founder had died, and even after its Ptolemaic inheritors passed into memory, Alexandreia continued to compete with Rome as an imperial metropolis. Yet, we should not forget the polis component of that name, for Alexander had acted as the very archetype of Greek city-founder, giving it walls, an agora, and distributing its lands (Strootman and von Reden, 2019). And in the years following his death, his Successors, hardly shy themselves about laying claim to royal dignity, followed in his footsteps, and new poleis were soon being founded left and right bearing their dynastic names. Which brings us to today's question, what was the importance of the Greek poleis in a world of kings and kingdoms, how did they adapt to the new reality, and why did our Hellenistic kings care so much?
Ahem. A confluence of factors have moved me to write this, which can be considered a sequel of sorts to my last essay regarding the Seleucids. From @Cetashwayo expressing a general interest, to some of my recent readings on the topic, and finally being confronted with some frankly … odd remarks in the ACOUP comment section, I have decided to put together something a bit more substantial addressing the role of the Greek poleis in the Hellenistic period. This is a complicated topic, and I will be chiefly focused on interactions and dynamics between king and city in the Seleucid Empire, but nevertheless much of this will still be applicable to the other Hellenistic kingdoms.
Background
A polis was many things. Asty and chora, or an urban centre and its territory. It was a community that claimed some common descent, a set of shared institutions and rituals, and it was inherently a politicised society. It was also, most pertinently to the present discussion, a state unto itself by design, with its own government and military and taxes. The freedom and independence of the poleis was a commonplace in Greek culture and politics, even if this was often more aspiration than reality (Ma, 2000).
But the Hellenistic period was also an age of kings. The Seleucids, Ptolemaics, and Antigonids each had their kingdoms, but there were others besides, and there is an obvious and inherent tension between the ideals that prescribed 'freedom and autonomy' for the poleis and those that valorised 'spear-won land' and the might of monarchs. In light of this, it can be tempting to downscale and minimise the role of the poleis in this age as one of 'towns … left to run themselves', in comparison to the vibrancy of their classical forebears (Green, 1990).
But I might equally contend that it would be a mistake to dismiss them. These same 'towns' could make their displeasure felt, as Seleucus VI discovered quite painfully in 94 BCE. Residing at the time in Seleukeia-on-the-Pyramos/Mopsuestia in Cilicia, he thought to increase the war levies imposed upon the Cilicians. In response, the citizens of Mopsuestia burned him to death in the city's gymnasium, a reasonably stark expression of their dissatisfaction (Ramsey, 2023).
There is more that I can say about this, but first it will be necessary to lay some more groundwork, and discuss some of the pivotal events that saw the Hellenistic kingdoms emerge from the high drama of Alexander's funeral games.
The Wars of the Successors (323–281 BCE)
The death of Alexander set off a cascade of events that transformed the eastern Mediterranean into a constantly shifting patchwork of borders and alliances for the next few decades. By way of example, for the half-century between 323 BCE and until the reign of Antiochus I, the city of Sardeis was made to endure seven changes of regime and three sieges, and could enjoy barely a decade of stability. This was exceptional even for the Wars of the Diadochi, but it serves to illustrate the chaos of the times (Kosmin, 2019).
As the imperial order of Alexander began to crumble, his heirs were busily establishing their own, by turns imitating Alexander and improvising new solutions in their ongoing struggles with one another. While it would not be until 306/5 BCE that any of them formally laid claim to the title basileus, indeed they almost all did that year, the Successors were often acting like kings in practice already a decade before that point (Wallace, 2017).
A full rundown of the Wars of the Successors is beyond the scope of this text, but between 322 and 311 BCE we can already see many of the hallmarks which we will be discussing further. Rhetorical battles for the loyalty of the Greek cities of Asia Minor and Europe, as Polyperchon pioneered with his announcement of general amnesty for the poleis in 319. In 316, Cassander both restored the polis of Thebes, reversing Alexander's destruction of the city, and founded the polis of Kassandreia via the amalgamation of 17 pre-exisiting poleis, including two that Philip II had destroyed earlier, the first major eponymous royal city foundations (Boehm, 2018).
The response from Antigonus I Monophthalmus and Ptolemy I Soter was telling. The former marshalled his army at Tyre, denounced Cassander's marriage to Alexander's half-sister, insisted that he raze Kassandreia and Thebes as enemies of the Macedonians, and submit to Antigonus as guardian of the kingdom, even while he also insisted that the Greek cities should be free and ungarrisoned. Ptolemy issued a similar decree shortly after, yet Cassander was not moved to do anything of the sort. The balance of Greek opinion was, at this time, solidly in his favour, and Antigonus was forced to back down (Boehm, 2018).
As the manoeuvring demonstrates, battling for the loyalty of the Greek cities was important to these men. Demetrius I Poliorcetes' (son of Antigonus) actions in 287 BCE after losing his kingdom provide another telling example, as better scholars than I have noted that it was a 'sign of the improvisational nature of early Hellenistic kingship, and its foundation in the support of communities, that the principal means by which he sought to regain power was to canvass support among the Greek cities' (Mackil, 2015). In the context of the Diadochs' conflicts with one another, every one of them understood the need to appeal to and win the support of local communities if they were to have any hope of prevailing against the rest. Set against this backdrop, rhetoric surrounding the 'freedom and autonomy of the Greek cities' was only to be expected. We can set aside how sincere these proclamations were for the moment. What is key is what such rhetoric and efforts tell us about how the new imperial authorities tried to organise their nascent realms through such interactions (Boehm, 2018).
Similarly, the establishment of Kassandreia, alongside the other major royal city foundations of the time in Antigoneia, Thessalonike, Seleukeia, and Lysimacheia were major interventions that reconfigured local geographies and concentrated resources in new urban centres, sometimes privileging previously peripheral regions like the Seleucid foundations in northern Syria and the middle Tigris, and Thessalonike in Mygdonia (Kosmin, 2014; Boehm, 2018). Likewise, Lysimachus is described joining Lebedos with Ephesus, so that the latter city might become greater through the resources provided by the union, and the city rose to become one of Asia Minor's foremost commercial centres (Boehm, 2018). It is worth pausing here to consider the rupture this could represent. Damascus in southern Syria had served as a regional centre and later satrapial capital for 400 years under the Neo-Assyrian, Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid empires each in turn, and Alexander had happily continued the tradition. But with the division of Syria between Ptolemy and Seleucus, and the foundation of the new Hellenistic urban centres in the Seleucis to the north and the polis of Ptolemais-Akko to the south, the city was pushed to the margins, no longer housing a mint and passed over by the Ptolemaic official Zenon in his tour of southern Syria (Kosmin, 2021).
The Greek Cities and Euergetism
We have already highlighted some of the importance the poleis held for the Diadochs, both practically and symbolically, but we must now give some thought to the modes of their interactions, how the royal-civic dialogue happened, and the importance thereof. The term used academically for this is euergetism, and it became the ideal mode of interaction between royal and civic authorities in this time.
An illustrative example of royal euergetism in action can be seen in Antigonus' letters to the cities of Teos and Lebedos, which he was attempting to merge. Antigonus presents himself as a concerned outsider, his instructions and commands rendered implicit, presented as simply 'advice', prefaced with the gentle injunction 'we think it best' (Boehm, 2018). One key point that is conveyed to us via the sources at this time is the evident anxiety of Teos and Lebedos to retain as much economic freedom as possible, as seen when they wished to set aside some of their revenues in a fund, from which their citizens could borrow for grain imports. Antigonus was opposed, noting his wish for the cities to remain free of debts, and that anyway there were plenty of royal lands nearby from which they could import grain. His concerns may have been genuine, but such a setup presumably advantaged him more than the cities were willing to accept. In the end he granted Teos and Lebedos the privilege they wanted, with the stipulation that all such imports and exports had to be declared in the agora (Boehm, 2018).
The exchange highlights some of the aspects of such interactions in the early Hellenistic. We can make a note of the language being used, where the king is careful not to come across as a tyrant or despot, imposing demands and commands, but a concerned outsider and benefactor, stressing his goodwill and good intentions towards them. Secondly, the fact that the king can grant or revoke privileges, and the efforts exerted by the cities to secure such grants. Antigonus is without question mightier, the relationship is asymmetric and lopsided in his favour, but this manner of treating with the cities leaves these ugly realities unsaid, which gives the cities a degree of leverage.
100 years later, during the reign of the Seleucid king Antiochus III, these themes are again visible in even more detail. We can consider the letter of Laodike III, wife to the king, to the city of Iasos, ca. 196 BCE. The city had recently fallen into hardship, both an earthquake and an untimely attack by the Seleucid king. Laodike writes:
Queen Laodike to the council and the people of the Iasians, greetings. Having often heard from my brother what urgent help he continually deploys for his friends and allies, and that after recovering your city as it had fallen into unexpected calamities, he gave back to you your liberty and your laws, and in the other matters he strives to increase the citizen body and bring it to a better condition, and making it my own intention to act in accordance with his zeal and eagerness, and, because of this, to confer some benefaction on the poor among the citizens, and a general advantage to the whole people, I have written to Strouthion the dioiketes for him to send along to the city one thousand Attic medimnoi of wheat a year, for ten years, and them over to the representatives of the city…
This rather long sentence, which is only an extract of the full letter, details not only a specific bit of royal benefaction, but also what motivated the queen to do so. Specifically, she notes the benevolent disposition of her husband, the king, and her own decision to act likewise. The implications are manifold. What is key is that accepting this gift would dissuade the Iasians from disputing the explicit and implicit claims in the letter. Laodike is acting in this way because she is imitating Antiochus' benevolence. Ergo, Antiochus must be benevolent, for 'reacquiring' your city and giving you back your liberty and laws. These claims are treated as facts that culminate in the grain grant. The power dynamics at play are incidental, what is key is the very act of giving, or granting (Ma, 2000).
I should note as an aside that this is not an insubstantial gift. Laodike is pledging to provide the Iasians 40 tonnes of wheat a year for a duration of ten years, and she further issues instructions to use the incomes raised by the selling of that grain for the dowries of poor citizens' daughters. Laodike describes it as 'a benefaction to the poor citizens and a common service to the whole people'.
Seen more broadly, euergetism in the form of gift-giving, be it a grant of grain as above, or by funding building projects within the city, or arranging for an oracle of Apollo to sanction arbitration of conflict are all means through which the Seleucid state, as well as the other Hellenistic monarchies, might extend their influence into the internal affairs of a formally 'free' city. Doing so fosters goodwill, boosts the king's legitimacy, and gives him other avenues through which to exert influence rather than simply issuing commands via his subordinates; the regional commanders, satraps, epistatai and hyparchoi (Chrubrasik, 2016). An element that we see in Seleucid royal-city interactions is the use of royal lands to build these connections, what we might call 'land as currency'. A classic example being when Laodike I purchased the village of Pannoukome from her husband Antiochus II, where the dossier recording the sale informs us that Laodike I had permission to attach her new village to a city of her choosing (Klokow, 2023).
But there is more to this than simply royal will. They are not the only ones with agency, as the previous example where Antigonus acquiesced to the demands of Teos and Lebedos makes clear. Royal gift-giving featured as part of a dialogue between king and city. Returning to Laodike III's gift to Iasos, she later in the same text promises future benefactions so long as the Iasians behave 'as is appropriate'. And so royal gifts and letters find their counterpart in civic decrees and honours, in embassies to the king, communicating the city's well-wishes and gratitude, their prayers and sacrifices for his health and welfare. But these decrees viewed the king from local perspectives rather than adopting an imperial view, defining the polis community's own political existence and dignity as beyond simply something that was part of the king's patrimony (Ma, 2000).
A city might also proactively petition the royal party in this manner. After being reconquered and sacked by Antiochus III, Sardeis wasted little time in decreeing honours for Laodike III, including a temenos (a slice of land dedicated to her), a festival named after her, and sacrifices to Zeus Genethlios for the safety of her and her husband and children. This in turn let them start a diplomatic interaction, precisely because they were now engaging in the language and norms of euergetism. Consequently, as she could hardly refuse the honours of the Sardians, Laodike acknowledged them, praised their enthusiasm, and promised future benefactions to the city. Her husband Antiochus followed suit, and in a later letter to the Sardians was discussing his commitment to their welfare and how he might improve their situation. The city of Herakleia, similarly, decreed a raft of honours for the king and his family, that were communicated by twenty-two envoys right alongside a bunch of dossiers on privileges they would like to keep or benefactions they would like to request. These included gifts in nature or in kind, tax-exemptions, and territory. Antiochus and his subordinate Zeuxis seem to have acquiesced to most of these as well (Ma, 2000).
All this is pithily summarised by John Ma in Antiochos III and the Cities of Asia Minor as 'I give, in order that you give, in order that I give', a continuous cycle and dialogue involving gift-giving and reciprocity, motivated by the 'goodwill', 'zeal' and 'enthusiasm' of the relevant parties (Ma, 2000).
If we take a step back, we can also consider the broader impact. In much the same way that Cassander's actions in 316 BCE were enough to sway public opinion of the Greek cities to his side in his ongoing conflicts with the other successors, so too did the communications between the king and individual cities also have a wider audience. Teos and Iasos described Antiochus III in their decrees as acting the way he did before 'all the Greeks'. The honours that a city might decree for the royal family, which we have just discussed, were by their nature public things. Public buildings, festivals and rituals honouring Antiochus and Laodike would have been visible to any foreigner visiting the city, speaking openly of their generosity and gifts (Ma, 2000).
Consequently, both royal letters and civic decrees, despite certain differences in how they are communicated and publicised, share certain 'genre' elements, as it were. Continuous references to past events and precedents were common. This also communicated the expectation of future benefactions, as indeed some of the quotes above make explicit. Thus, a Teian decree praising Antiochos III remarks on 'the great advantages through which our city has reached happiness—some of which he now is bringing about, some he will bring about'. Antiochus, in turn, mentions that his actions are 'in accordance with the example [of my ancestors]'. Both parties are engaging with, and seeking to effect certain outcomes through, this talk of precedent and norms. The cities can exert a degree of 'moral pressure' on the king and his officials, because as benefactors they need to accept certain obligations to the city, noting past examples of royal goodwill and the city's own venerable history and political identity. The royal couple and their subordinates in turn justify their activities by noting their sincere feelings and initiative, with reference to the dynastic past, and can exert 'moral pressure' as well, because as recipients and beneficiaries of royal goodwill, the cities accept an obligation to them in turn (Ma, 2000).
When Euergetism Breaks Down
As we have previously seen, euergetic interactions could resume in shockingly short amounts of time after violent episodes between king and city. Antiochus III with his army had sacked Sardeis, and fallen upon Iasos, yet both cities were engaging with himself and his queen shortly thereafter with talk of honours and benefactions. In these communications, the topic of violence was largely elided. These past altercations were described as 'unexpected mishaps', and cities were 'beleaguered by unpleasant accidents', brought about by the whims of fate (Ma, 2000; Ramsey, 2023). Blame is not ascribed to any single actor by either party, certainly not the king. The royal army might attack a city, citing insurgents or rebellion, but they do not name names, or give numbers, or discuss why a city population might revolt. The crackdown is simply justified. Both sides promulgate their distinct narrative, ones that conspicuously omit those unpleasant details that serve as a hindrance to reconciliation and amnesty, and which smooth over the incompatibilities between royal and civic ideology, what Ramsey (2023) terms 'amnesia narratives'.
But Seleucus VI's death by burning should suffice to show us that when constructive communication and reciprocal dialogue of honours and gifts broke down, the results could swiftly turn painful. We can consider this episode in greater detail now, with the knowledge of the previous paragraphs. It is relatively easy to infer that Seleucus was imposing upon Mopsuestians; he had taken the city's gymnasium for use as his palace, a very obvious bit of interference in civic life, denying the citizens the use of one of their public institutions. Even if he had brought with him his own staff, he and his court would still have been a drain on civic resources for the duration of their stay there. Nor was Mopsuestia/Seleukeia-on-the-Pyramos a city of the same stature as Alexandreia-by-Egypt, Antiocheia-by-Daphne or Sardeis, imperial metropoleis and regional centres that hosted kings and their entourages regularly. The 1st century historian Appian describes Seleucus VI as 'violent and very tyrannical'. It is difficult to see Seleucus VI here as living up to the 'example of his ancestors', as his ancestor Antiochus III might have put it. All these things could plausibly help explain why the Mopsuestians finally decided that enough was enough, that they would rather resort to regicide rather than put up with his demands, which they deemed illegitimate (Ramsey, 2023).
A similarly violent altercation, between the Seleucid king Demetrius II and the citizens of Antiocheia-by-Daphne in 145 BCE, is also illustrative. Having only recently secured the city after prevailing over his rivals to the throne, Demetrius was bringing in 3000 Judean mercenaries into the city while preparing for winter, an indication that he did not trust the citizens and did not feel secure. Tensions escalated, with rumours and angry remarks about their new king in the city streets, while the king angrily issued punishments to city leaders that had sided with his enemies, and before long there was violence in the streets (Ramsey, 2023).
Diodorus provides us some insights into the king's behaviour:
'Scorning, therefore, to ingratiate himself with the populace as was customary, and waxing ever more burdensome in his demands upon them, he sank into ways of despotic brutality and extravagantly lawless behaviour of every sort.'
Furthermore, he despised 'habitual obsequiousness to the crowd'. Yet as we have just discussed at length, this 'habitual obsequiousness' was a key hallmark of the euergesia of his ancestors, and his scorn for it prevented an already unpopular monarch from ingratiating himself to the citizens living right outside his palace. Demetrius' neglect for these things are instead described as leading to 'excesses of diverse injustices', cruelty, and unjust demands and commands, suggesting that all that energy that his predecessors had invested in euergesia had also curbed some of the worst tendencies inherent to monarchical and imperial leadership (Ramsey, 2023).
In these circumstances, those cornerstones of Greek political thought, that of polis autonomy and freedom, became powerful ideas to rally around. Seen from the civic point of view, Demetrius II was infringing on the liberties of the Antiochenes, just as Seleucus VI was cruelly disregarding the rights of the Mopsuestians. The tensions and contradictions between 'spear-won land' and 'freedom and autonomy' which were carefully elided and defused in previous examples were becoming painfully stark. But because these men were either unwilling, or unable, to engage in euergesia, both parties were unable to achieve any sort of reconciliation, unable to redress past grievances, and made violence seemingly inevitable. There would be no 'amnesia' here (Ramsey, 2023).
As I remarked at the start of this essay, the polis ideals of freedom and autonomy were often more aspirational than real. Cities like Alexandreia-by-Egypt and Seleukeia-on-the-Tigris had never meaningfully existed as 'free' poleis, founded by Macedonian kings as imperial centres at their inception, these cities had only ever existed as part of integrated regional economies and as centres of royal prestige and dignity (Ramsey, 2023). The Cilician poleis had likewise lived with Ptolemaic and Seleucid suzerainty for nigh on two centuries by the time of Seleucus VI's death. Yet they, like their more venerable counterparts such as Thebes, Athens and Ephesus, could be powerfully moved by such political ideas.
Conclusions
The polis continued to function as a cornerstone of Greek political life in the Hellenistic era. For the Successors, in the wake of Alexander's death, getting these urban centres on-side was key in an age when appeals to simply the Macedonian contingent of their far-flung realms was no longer effective, in much the same way that these men needed to find ways to legitimate their rule to all the other populations of Asia and Egypt and Europe. They appealed to the old poleis and founded new ones bearing their names, moving populations and investing in their development, stamping their mark and name across the landscape, with many of their key foundations enduring to this day. Bit by bit, the furious improvisation and innovation of this era became traditional for those that would follow, and by the time of Antiochus III a century later we had fairly consistent norms for king-city interactions, its forms and its language.
The cities that found themselves part of these realms and under the suzerainty of the Hellenistic kings nevertheless consistently and continuously emphasised their political existence as something discrete in their communications with the king, rooted in a local past, not a royal one, even as they acknowledged his might. They strove to realise 'freedom and autonomy' on their own terms, sometimes petitioning kings for economic privileges, sometimes with recourse to violence. Through euergetism, we see one means through which these tensions and conflicting agendas could be mediated, and some degree of goodwill and order prevail, where both parties could promote the narrative they most preferred.
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