by Virginia Fiume*
Here, I want to focus on my favorite moment of the entire week: the session that took place at the Stoa of Attalus on the 28 September, entitled: “What can we learn from these old stones? Imaginaries of Sortition, from Antiquity to the Present.”
For readers unfamiliar with the history of Ancient Greece, it’s worth reflecting for a moment on the meaning and multi-functional nature of the venue itself. The Stoa is a covered walkway located beside the main market of Athens, adjacent to the Agora. It was built by King Attalos II of Pergamon, who ruled between 159 BC and 138 BC, as a gift to the city and as a venue for cultural and educational activities.
Try to imagine these three intersecting spaces: the Agora, where political life happened (through a combination of nominated and elected bodies, and sortition-based citizens assemblies); the Stoa, a space for philosophical debate, including for those who later became known as “the Stoics”; and the Market, where the men of households and their slaves (yes, we will go back to this point later on) came to do the shopping, because women weren’t allowed to leave the homes.
The power of the archeological space was breathtaking. Personally, I couldn’t help thinking that 2,150 years ago, as a woman, I wouldn’t have been allowed to step on those same old stones that were beneath our feet during our work in Athens.
For precisely that reason, I was particularly pleased that, throughout our mission in Athens, the team paid close attention to the inherent contradictions of the “most ancient democracy in the world.” On the one hand, we celebrated Athens’s inclusive governance methodology (including sortition based mechanisms). At the same time, we confronted the reality that this same system was designed to exclude at least two categories of society: women and slaves. As our guide at the Acropolis Museum put it the day before: “it was because of slavery – that they had the luxury of democracy.”
The ‘problem’ of the historical frame enabled our entire network to think deeply about what we mean by the “People” of the Democratic Odyssey’s Assembly process. How, for example, in our own times, can we make sure that the prototype we are building is as inclusive as possible, and doesn’t repeat the mistake of the Conference on the Future of Europe, which only involved citizens of the EU member states in its Citizens’ Panels?
This is a key issue when designing the sortition process. But it also has implications on the ‘political dilemma’ that the Assembly will discuss. How, for example, can the Constituent Network identify a ‘topic’ (or a methodology to choose a topic) that ensures that what will be discussed and deliberated upon in the Peoples’ Assembly in September 2024 does not pertain only a part of the population that lives within a pre-defined European “space”?
Personally, I think the session we held at the Stoa should be an integral part of at least some of the processes through which the Constituent Network will try and answer these questions over the next eleven months. We could call them the “Stoa moments.”
Specifically, I think we should remember three aspects of last month’s “philosophy driven” session:
- The importance of the setting. Choosing an inspiring setting that somehow connects us to a broader history and that, at the same time, magnifies the contradictions that our predecessors walked on can have a powerful impact on conversation. While transnational organizing might require a certain degree of digital participation – thereby limiting scope for experimenting with “scenography” – we should nevertheless try and imagine inspiring cultural interventions to kick-off our encounters. Similarly, if we organize local assemblies as a means of preparing for the first transnational meeting, we should consider hosting them in spaces that are either relevant from the point of view of cultural heritage, or representative of the complexity of our contemporary world.
2) The democratic power of speaking in circles. During the session in the Stoa our group sat in a circle, with some participants on chairs and others seated on the ground. This positioning encouraged a horizontal mode of exchange in which participants felt comparatively free to share their opinions regardless of social roles, agendas, power dynamics, identities and nationalities.
3) Diversity of speaker-facilitators. The Stoa conversation was framed by participants with expertise outside of the traditional ‘political science’ background: Frans Geraedts, philosopher at the Cmunz foundation for public arts; Noga Arikha, Visiting Philosopher at the School of Transnational Governance, historian of ideas and author of The Ceiling Outside: The Science and Experience of the Disrupted Mind; and Manos Tsakiris, Professor of Pyschology and Director of Centre for the Politics of Feelings (University of London). These profiles ensured the conversation was rooted in both academic interdisciplinarity but also democratic expansiveness.
Professor Kalypso Nicolaidis introduced the session by taking us back to the complexities of Ancient Greek Democracy, reminding us that the Stoic School was one of the first schools in ancient philosophy to move from being named after its founder, zenoism (from Zeno of Citium) to became stoic-ism in the abstract. She also reflected on shared leadership and the possibility of letting our minds brainstorm under the beauty of a “collective intelligence.”
Frans, Manos and Noga then warmed-up the debate, offering essential reflections on the necessity of balancing “critical thinking” with “critical feeling” as well as reminding us about our different relationships with power and justice. This approach helped us to put “emotions” and our own “awareness of emotions” at the center of the dialogue. Such an approach is rare in more traditional political settings and specifically in policy-making, which is sometimes limited to a “cold” reflection on European democracy.
These discursive parameters enabled our group to put forward ideas that went far beyond “traditional party politics” or “nation-state” vocabulary as we brainstormed the design of the Democratic Odyssey. We discussed topics such as our relationship with “Trauma” (both individual and collective), our understanding of “conflict” and “antagonism”, “self-consciousness” and “fragility.” We explored how we relate to and are disconnected from those who are invisible in our society - and even, sometimes, from ourselves.
It was fascinating to engage in this type of exchange, and to glimpse the radical and transformative potential of this type of approach in the creation phase of the People’s Assembly. And while the majority of this conversation was unrecorded, it remains alive in the notes of the individual participants. To my mind, the meeting well-captured the spirit and the values of this Democratic Odyssey that we are embarking on.
As bell hooks, one of the most inspiring and intersectional feminist authors – renowned for her ability to combine academic discourse with the flesh and bones understanding of the actual needs of the oppressed, once wrote:
“Hope is essential to any political struggle for radical change when the overall social climate promotes disillusionment and despair.”
With this spirit in mind, I hope this network of people – those who had the courage to start the Democratic Odyssey process – will keep the compass centered on the challenge of solving the contradictions of the past through deep individual compassion and awareness.
If a “Europe for the people” is possible, it is essential we build it by connecting our social and political intellects, but also by embracing our position as humans in contact with our emotions.
*Virginia Fiume is currently a Policy Leader Fellow at the School of Transnational Governance. She is also the co-president of the movement of popular and nonviolent initiative EUMANS and a member of the Citizens Take Over Europe coalition.
Explore the Democratic Odyssey project website