ONCE UPON a time, in a far-off land, there lived a spoiled, irresponsible scion of a rich and powerful family.
Since his family was so very wealthy, having an accumulated fortune of many years, he did not have to work for a living, and thus he could - and did - devote himself to various and sundry dissipations and pleasures, especially drink (in fact it was widely bruited about, that in his younger years, he was alcoholic).
The men of his family had been for generations illustrious leaders in public life: He was determined to use any means available to outshine them all.
As unprincipled as he was hedonistic, he decided to use the state as his stepping stone to power; thus he would achieve glory and more wealth for himself and his cronies.
There were those who loved and followed him (he was good-looking, and could, if he wished, put on a veneer of captivating charm). But there were those who, with equal fervor, hated him. They detested his arrogance, his blatant hypocrisies, and his thinly disguised contempt of the masses.
Before he came to power, the reputation of his state was an enviable one. The state had many friends and allies, and was a highly respected leader of the world. It was "firmly governed and very wisely led." Everyone was considered "free and equal under the law" and wealth was regarded as "something not to be vaunted, but to be used sensibly" for the benefit of all. In short, it was an open honorable government that commanded the admiration of other states. It was a citadel of democracy.
Enter our playboy turned politico.
He quickly proposed that the state wage war against a certain other country. He was regarded as not only the initiator of this war, but its most vociferous supporter. He neglected no opportunity whatever, to fan the people's desires, and he raised great expectations of success amongst a credulous populace.
Actually he was counting on this expedition to "bring him personally public esteem and more wealth." In all his policies, he would first calculate the advantages to himself and his career. The state was an afterthought.
His proposed military campaign was not without its critics. They pointed out that such an endeavor demanded much thought and foresight, that it required "forces large enough to accomplish the task successfully, and above all, it would require huge governmental expenditures." Did the public treasury have all that money?
But our scion convinced the legislature that the expedition was important and necessary, it would show the state's military might, and enable "the soldiers to return home in safety" and glory. The propaganda machine was in full force.
The result of the excessive beating of the drums, on the part of the war crowd, was such that the legislature voted for the war overwhelmingly. "Those who truly opposed the expedition maintained a silence. They feared they would be branded as unpatriotic if they voted against the proposal."
And so with great fanfare and promises of increased dominance and power, the war was launched. But its jingoistic sponsors were generally "ignorant of the size of the opponent's country and the nature of its inhabitants." They did not even recognize the magnitude of their attempted conquest.
There was insufficient planning. The flower of young manhood died daily on the bloodied fighting fields, mismanagement was rife, and the whole affair proved to be a fiasco.
Hard times on the home front followed, the reputation of the state soon collapsed, and our anti-hero "very soon shipwrecked the state."
The name of this paradigm of hubris?
It was Alcibiades, who for a while in the 5th century B.C. in Athens held center stage. It was in great part due to him that the image of Athens in her Golden Age came to be tarnished. His campaign against Sicily was no mere contretemps. It was a disaster, and its aftermath was humiliating and mortifying for Athens.
Also, it was in great part due to him that the democracy in September of 411 B.C. was overthrown by a swift coup. Athens gradually slipped from zenith to nadir.
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If it's true that history repeats itself, then the story of Alcibides (which is put forth in Plutarch) should tell us that unless we boot this guy from office on November 2, we are irretrievably fucked.
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