The pressure of war often drives change. This was no less true of the Peloponnesian War in its effect on constitutional thinking at the end of the fifth century. While Thucydides in his analysis of the Peloponnesian War suggests that it was differences between constitutional types that lay behind the conflict (democracy versus oligarchy), it was in fact the war that clarified these differences. Thus it was that ideas around democracy became more clearly defined. However, it was thinking about oligarchy which experienced the most radical changes. Earlier in the fifth century, oligarchy had been recognised as a constitutional form but had been fairly loosely defined. By the end of the war, however, some Athenians in particular, who wanted to effect regime change, played with ideas of oligarchy in a fairly imprecise way based on number, wealth or class. Initially, this lack of clarity worked in the favour of the reformers, but eventually it led to the downfall of both the oligarchies of 411 and 404/3. Nevertheless it was the war itself which ultimately forced the conceptual opposition between oligarchy and democracy, which Thucydides was then able to write retrospectively into his analysis of the Peloponnesian War.

Focusing on the period between the late fourteenth century and the outbreak of the Catalonian Civil War in 1462, Chapter 2 examines municipal government. Two new regimes arose during this period. The first, the Nou regiment, blended direct election with a method preferred by tradespeople, namely, the random selection of officeholders. Moreover, it gave tradespeople a numerical majority within the town’s executive magistracy, or consulate, as well as within the town council. The Nou regiment rolled back older measures enacted by burgher- and merchant-dominated governments; modestly but noticeably, it advanced tradespeople’s interests. Burghers and merchants opposed and worked to undermine the Nou regiment. In 1449, they toppled it and instituted a regime called the Nova forma. The Nova forma restored oligarchical power through a novelty of its own: the Nova forma redefined the town’s occupational groupings and thereby substituted burgher and merchant majorities for those of tradespeople within the consulate and town council.

This chapter recapitulates the main findings of this study, relating them to the concepts of ‘oligarchy’, the boni and different forms of social power.

This chapter examines the coup d’état carried out by General Juan Velasco Alvarado in 1968, a coup that radically differed from the series of military takeovers in the Southern Cone of South America during the height of the Cold War. It seeks to analyze the causes that led to the coup, its principal objectives, and how the United States, in particular the Nixon administration, responded to Peru’s challenge to relations with the US. It further addresses a series of questions such as who the coup makers were, what their social backgrounds were, and what kind of resistance the new regime faced in what became, over the next several years, a radical effort to transform one of the most tradition-bound countries in Latin America in order to modernize it and bring it into the twentieth century.

‘Critias was indeed the most rapacious, the most violent and the most murderous of all those who were part of the oligarchy.’ In the ancient tradition, Critias is a man systematically described in superlatives. The ancient sources readily depict him as an extremist oligarch, a misguided disciple of Socrates, oblivious to the lessons of his former master. Incomparable Critias? This superlative representation deserves to be deconstructed. Not in order to rehabilitate his tarnished memory but because the man is a convenient bogeyman who acts as the singular representative of what was in reality a collective adventure. Not only does his role as leader of the Thirty remain to be proven, but this exclusive focus also tends to obscure the vast chorus that surrounded him: Far from being a lone wolf, Critias was the spokesman or, rather, the coryphaeus of Athenian oligarchs united by common habits and experiences. A poet and a virtuoso musician, Critias even promoted a true choral policy, striving to convince all the Athenians remaining in the city to align to his radical positions. Breaking with the democratic experiment and its multiple and competing choruses, the oligarch sought to create a single, distinctive and hermetic chorus, of which all the members had to dance in unison and where the slightest deviation was mercilessly punished. Better still, in the tumult of the civil war, Critias had a dream: to establish a permanent state of exception in order to forge a new brand of men entirely devoted to the cause of the oligarchy.

How has discrimination changed over time? What does discrimination look like today? This chapter begins by highlighting severe and systematic acts of discrimination throughout American history. It then assesses contemporary discrimination through a range of audit studies and other methods and then delves into individual perceptions of discrimination.

Chapter 3 provides a review of democratic theory, moving from the “minimal conception” of democratic politics to democracy in its representative, constitutional, participatory, deliberative, and epistemic forms. The chapter offers a comparison of where America stands today among the world’s democracies and introduces the question of whether democracy carries the assumption of equality; it also reviews data on inequality throughout American history and on the more recent increase in inequality. We propose the idea that inequality is not extraneous to our democratic politics, but a direct result of it.

Chapter 2 surveys phrases with the verb boulomai that describe the ability to do “whatever one wishes” or to live “however one wishes” as freedom in order to demonstrate that democratic freedom was understood as the ability to bring one’s will to fruition. These phrases are found in a wide range of genres, including history, philosophy, oratory, drama, and epigraphy. By defining themselves as free in contrast to slaves, Athenians perceived their actions and decisions as emanating from themselves rather than a master. Freedom was thus defined as not simply a prerequisite status for citizenship, in contrast to birth or wealth, but a personal capacity for action. This positive freedom was a central aspect of citizen identity, rendering scholarly accounts focused on negative freedom incomplete. The distinctive feature of democratic freedom was the insistence on the self as master of action; as a citizen, one did what one wished. Positive freedom gave rise to procedural components in Athenian administration and law, notably voluntarism and accountability, as well as served as a distinctive core marker of identity in contrast with other states, such as Sparta and Persia.

Chapter 3 analyzes freedom as doing “whatever one wishes” in fourth-century oratory. As several scholars have noted, doing “whatever one wishes” appears ambivalent in forensic speeches. They argue that, since Athens was not an anarchic state, extreme freedom could be glossed as a threat to sociopolitical stability. In contrast to prevailing scholarship, however, I argue that the most dominant principle, even in these texts, is the preservation of positive freedom as justification for the litigant’s position. While acting “however one wishes” may be presented as objectionable, the rhetoric of that assessment emphasizes who is doing “whatever they wish” and whom they affect by doing so. Bad characters, whether a criminals, oligarchs, or metics, can be rebuked as undeserving of positive freedom and abusing the power that attends it. The limitation of another citizen’s ability to do what he wishes can also condemn the action. Doing “what one wishes” is not a byword for antidemocratic action, but can have such a connotation because of the particular actors or victims of the actions. It is the misuse of the natural qualities of a citizen that leads to censure.

Known chiefly from sources related to democratic Athens, the Sophists emerge from the competitive ethos of aristocratic Greek society. The impetus for the Sophistic movement was the transformation of social and political relations within the Greek world following the defeat of Xerxes. These changes were most dramatically felt and best recorded at Athens. The phenomenal wealth of fifth-century Athens increased the number of Athenians aspiring to an aristocratic lifestyle and intensified the competition for social recognition and for preeminence in politics. Verbal dexterity was a key attribute in the pursuit of such standing. Sophists attracted students by promising to impart such skills in the young men of wealthy families. The turmoil of war in the late fifth century encouraged some of those influenced by Sophists to turn toward oligarchic revolution at Athens, tainting the reputation of Sophistic learning, leading to the condemnation of Socrates for his engagement with these self-proclaimed teachers of political virtue and wisdom.

While scholars in the United States have long regarded the prospect of “Fascism in America” as unlikely, they have begun to reconsider their views since the rise of Trumpism. In the past half-decade, an extended debate has raged in the USA about whether present-day right-wing political trends should be seen as fascist. To date, however, this debate remains unresolved. The introduction seeks to break this deadlock by surveying the debate’s origins, clarifying its stakes, and assessing its course. It then introduces the volume’s twelve chapters, all of which weigh in on the debate in different ways. They are grouped into four sections that seek to illuminate different aspects of American fascism. These areas of focus are: (1) “Strategic Thinking about Fascism”; 2) “Homegrown Nazis”; 3) “White Antidemocratic Violence and Black Antifascist Activism”; and 4) “Countering Fascism in Culture and Policy”.

This chapter reconstructs an anti-imperial popular sovereignty. Via Martin Luther King, Jr.’s essay “Beyond Vietnam,” I theorize how peoples are lured to partake in imperial projects that benefit global oligarchies. In response, King proposes a geopolitics of popular sovereignty that calls peoples to position themselves historically vis-à-vis other peoples who are the targets of aggression. This requires the people to differentiate their own popular will from oligarchic projects of outward domination and to withdraw demands for well-being that depend on the exploitation of others and the crushing of revolutionary movements. This tradition of popular sovereignty urges worldliness and historical awareness among western peoples and extends anti-oligarchic discourses of peoplehood to criticize unholy western alliances with elites in the developing world. I juxtapose this account with Frantz Fanon’s writings on postcolonial democracy, national consciousness, and transnationalism, which criticize postcolonial oligarchies that remain wedded to empire and demand a parallel recognition. This reading yields a renewed language of popular sovereignty that identifies potential radical affinities between differently located collectives struggling against global capitalist accumulation violently enabled by dominant states.

This chapter examines the extent to which service in manorial office was characterised by relative inclusion of all members of the community or whether official positions were controlled by a narrow elite, and how this changed over time. Through examining the systems by which officials were selected, it finds that communities of tenants had significant power over who was chosen for office owing to traditions of collective liability. A further quantitative analysis of selection patterns reveals a two-tier system. While a significant proportion of the adult male tenant population likely served in office across their lifetimes, an elite dominated office through repeat service across a number of different roles. These findings demonstrate that a single designation of ‘participatory’ or ‘restrictive’ cannot be applied to manorial officeholding, as patterns of selection encompassed both elements. It also reveals little change into the early modern period, challenging a narrative of the rise of the ‘middling sort’.

The sanctuary of Artemis on the island of Korkyra, modern Corfu, is presented as a case study of the relationship between the changing environment and the monumentalization of Greek sanctuaries through Doric stone architecture. Although the sculptural decoration of the Artemis temple, which is one of the earliest Doric temples known so far, is relatively well preserved, modern scholars disagree on the interpretation of the sculptures. The question of how the representations of Medusa and other mythological figures on the pediments and metopes related to the divinity worshipped in the sanctuary and to the local context are particularly controversial. However, as the chapter argues, the builders of the temple had no interest in highlighting this relationship in the first place. The temple and its sculptural decoration were meant to express Panhellenic values and standards rather than local traditions. Thus, the local elite of Korkyra presented themselves as part of a Panhellenic elite network. At the same time, the elite showed the local population that they were taking care of the religious landscape in an unstable and radically transformative situation.

This chapter argues that Thucydides’ History provides for its readers an opportunity to assess the limits and opportunities of diverse political regimes, particularly democracy, oligarchy and monarchy. In doing so, he offers insights not only into the specific characteristics of the cities that employ those regimes (Athens, Sparta, Corinth, Thebes), but also into what is distinctive about those regime types, understood in categorical terms. The chapter focuses on Thucydides’ presentation of democracy in Athens and in Syracuse, arguing that Thucydides, although alert to the weaknesses of democracy, was also an admirer of the attainments and ambitions of this form of governance.

Chapter 3 identifies and discusses three periods in the record of democracy of Latin American countries since 1880. In a first period, one of oligarchic dominance, most countries had a variety of types of authoritarianism and only a few countries had experience with partial democracy. In a second period, that of mass politics and regime instability, the entry of the masses and women into politics created pressure for democratic change, and the region started to gain considerable experience with partial and fuller democracy. However, tensions due to the transition from elite to mass politics and then the Cuban Revolution led to political polarization, high levels of violence, and rule by right-wing dictatorships. Waves of democratization were followed by waves of de-democratization. Finally, in a third, ongoing period, Latin America entered a democratic age. Nearly every country in the region has had a democratic regime. Democracies have become more inclusive, as restrictions on the right to vote, that excluded women and the poor, were no longer imposed. Democracies have also endured. This chapter shows that the history of democracy in Latin America is one of considerable progress.

Chapter 6 indexes the influence of American religious exceptionalism on domestic matters. The authors speak of the vast attention paid to the role of Christian nationalists in the 2016 election and the policies of the Trump administration, by investigating how adherence to American religious exceptionalism explains the willingness to entertain illiberal policies and even undemocratic governance such as autocracy and military rule. The context of the pandemic is also addressed. Specifically, this chapter provides evidence of disciples’ doubling down on support for their savior Donald Trump, regardless of their proximity to the virus’s effect on their personal networks. The authors demonstrate the remarkable connection disciples share to their most unexpected and less-than-religious yet beloved crusading leader. The authors further provide strong statistical evidence that disciples’ vote choice, partisanship, domestic policy attitudes, and political activities are motivated by the need to promote the divine purpose of the nation amidst the internalized threats posed to a culturally homogeneous image of God’s country.

Chapter 5 “Disillusionment and Mobility (1983–2001)” argues that rational-legal administration did not exhaust the list of mezzo or organizational outcomes that resulted from RJ’s institutionalization. RJ’s rational-legal administration encountered six limitations that exposed and exacerbated the organization’s preexisting deficiencies, the IRI’s structural shortcomings, the shah’s neo-patrimonial legacies, and bureaucracy’s inherent flaws. These limitations included heightened centralization, intensified careerism, parliamentary entanglements, emerging corporatization, persistent redundancies, and dual executives. On a micro or individual level, these limitations and the inefficiency and stagnancy that they created caused some former RJ members to experience fatigue, apathy, and disillusionment. At the same time, RJ’s bureaucratization enabled other former members, particularly those who had lobbied for the organization to become a ministry, to experience political and social mobility as government officials, civil servants, and corporate executives – the very individuals whom former RJ members had initially despised as revolutionary activists in light of their anti-bureaucratic and anti-materialistic worldview.