Is the real subject of this book the strike in the Roman Empire? Of course, readers will find a presentation, often quite brief, of the main sources, unfortunately rather few in number, on the refusal to work or gestures of protest against the authorities. Is the real subject of this book Roman occupational associations, considered as precursors of modern trade unions? Of course, it deals with Roman collegia, voluntary and private associations, which were constituted in particular by artisans, merchants, transporters or artists. Nevertheless, it addressed much more numerous, broad and varied issues.
In fact, this book is a history of Rome over a millennium, from the conflict between the patricians and the plebeians to Justinian, in just 188 pages, if we exclude the notes, bibliography and index. It is accessible to any educated reader with an interest in past civilizations. However, specialists in Roman society, and in particular its lower classes, will also find it an enlightening and stimulating reflection. Its strength lies in building bridges between structures and eras that historical scholarship has tended to study independently of one another. In this respect, the book is likely to shake things up and significantly advance the state of the art. There is a logic behind these links, which some might find bold. It is summarized by an expression which appears once in the book in this exact form: “the power of collectives”. This could have been another very good title or subtitle for this book. It highlights that major turning points in the history of Rome resulted from the way in which groups (defined as associations, using this term in an extremely broad sense) formed to oppose the ruling power. Sarah Bond’s thesis is that there is a Roman way of forming groups, a specifically Roman way of creating collectives, which has endured through the centuries and given Roman civilization a significant part of its originality.
In 1768, British sailors refused to work and struck (lowered) the sails of their vessels to demand better wages from shipowners. For the first time, the word “strike” was used in its modern sense. Throughout history, however, the first examples of workers going on strike date back well before this lexical invention. The craftsmen of Deir el-Medina laid down their tools in 1157 or 1155 BC, when Pharaoh Ramses III ruled Egypt. The book therefore aims to explore how, in Rome and throughout its empire, groups of workers organized themselves to defend their interests, how they employed strategies such as withholding their labour, and how the political elites attempted to stymie this collective power that had emerged from below.
The first chapter deals with the collective actions of the plebs during the Struggle of the Orders. It emphasizes that the challenge to the political monopoly of the patricians, at the beginning of the Republic, took place in a socio-economic context (marked by debt bondage) and was based on forms of action (refusal to perform military service) comparable to strikes (according to Bond). The secessions of the plebs created a precedent for collective bargaining within the city, while also instilling in the minds of the aristocracy a distrust of popular gatherings and forms of self-organization.
Later, during the Bacchanalia scandal (186 BC), the senate repressed secret societies, which were all the more threatening because they were organized on the model of the city and could therefore compete with it. Voluntary associations were formed in the entertainment sector and in large-scale commerce, while the arrival of large numbers of slaves in Italy transformed Rome into a proper slave society. What is the connection between the two? For the author, servile domesticities (familiae) should be considered as involuntary associations, whose internal organizational logic (hierarchy, relationship to religion, desire to defend interests of their members, including through conflict) closely resembles that of voluntary associations. “We are Spartacus” (the title of the second chapter) postulates that free men and slaves shared common modes of collective action and even that the modes of action of slaves who revolted may have influenced Roman citizens.
During the 1st century BC, the chaos at the end of the Roman Republic involved multiple groups, between which Bond attempts to establish continuity, whether they were neighborhood structures, professional associations, domesticities, networks of dependency controlled by factious aristocrats, or their armed gangs, among which groups of gladiators played an important role. In response, supporters of law and order took a series of legal measures to restrict the rights of assembly and association, much like Caesar, who tried to stem the rising tide of unruly involuntary and voluntary associations.
The Augustan legislation on collegia restricted the right of association for centuries. Even when applied leniently, in favor of associations perceived as being of public utility, it remained in the toolbox of a power convinced that any group formed independently of it represented a potential risk. The anxiety of rulers toward the people stemmed from many other practices, such as frequenting taverns at night or the agitation that swept through crowds during large public spectacles. Religious communities (such as the worshipers of Isis, the Jews, and soon after the Christians) also aroused concern and thus repressive measures.
There are good examples of work stoppages (those of the weavers of Hermopolis, the builders of Pergamon, and the bakers of Ephesus) in the second century (and later, as evidenced by the revolt of the mint workers in 271). Although movements of this kind were worrying, the attitude of the imperial authorities and local powers was unequivocal. The authorities supported associations that served their interests. The emperors listened to complaints from below (from peasants on large estates in North Africa, for instance) and took on the role of benevolent patrons.
At the dawn of Late Antiquity, Diocletian wanted to lay the foundations for a new and stronger empire. This ambition resulted in increased control over workers’ collectives. A whole arsenal of legislation—admittedly enforced to varying degrees—aimed to bind them compulsorily and hereditarily to their condition, in order to ensure the continuity of tax revenues and services rendered to the State. By asserting its authority, the late Roman Empire created new collectives, especially those of workers in the imperial factories and bodies of bureaucrats.
The last chapter highlights the role of circus factions, as professional collectives, in triggering popular riots in Rome (under Constantius II), Thessalonica (under Theodosius), and finally in Constantinople (under Justinian). The internal organization of the factions explains their ability to mobilize quickly and on a massive scale. The bloody slaughter with which the emperors responded to the riots punctuated the final centuries of Roman antiquity. In times when it appeared weakened, for instance during the decades of destabilization linked to the threat of the Goths, the imperial government could not tolerate popular unrest. Furthermore, during the period of Christianization, new leaders from the clergy, such as Cyril of Alexandria, were able to maneuver professional and sometimes violent groups to their advantage.
The book is a real pleasure to read. It draws sympathy because of the author’s frank, intense, and courageous determination. At the start of her reflection, Sarah Bond takes some very personal research positions, which she defends with conviction throughout the book. She stands by methodological choices that are not necessarily consensual: her comparative approach is ready to employ a “strategic anachronism,” which leads her to evoke, in a book on ancient history, the union of American actors in the mid-20th century and the great screenwriters’ strike at the beginning of the 21st century. This approach echoes the “controlled anachronism” praised by Nicole Loraux,[1] as it allows historians to better understand the past while contributing to the construction of the present.
The most fundamental choice lies in the use of the concept of association, in an extremely broad sense. At least since the end of the 19th century (with Jean-Pierre Waltzing), historians of Roman associations have tended to limit their analyses to voluntary associations, under private law, with minimal structure. As a result, Sarah Bond’s consideration of “involuntary” or “informal” associations is not only original but also something of a provocation. But it’s a good one! The deconstruction of a consensual object (the usual definition of associations) changes perspectives and sheds new light on the structures of Roman societies. Some may criticize the book for lumping together groups that have nothing to do with each other. Others (such as the author of these lines) finds convincing the idea that comparable dynamics and inspiration from a common model (the polis and the ciuitas) gave rise to groups of very different natures.
Of course, there is no perfect book. As the text is concise, it necessarily contains a few omissions. For example, at least since the research of J.-M. Carrié,[2] we know that the professional tax (chrysargyron) created by Constantine made membership in associations responsible for its collection compulsory. Moreover, in its ambition to cover the entire history of Rome, the book sometimes seems to fall into a general narrative that digresses from the theme of the strike. Finally, the choice to focus on forms of conflict between political power and the world of labor creates blind spots. It tends to obscure internal conflicts within professional milieus, which are horizontal. For example, there is no evidence that the complaint lodged by Arles shipowners with the prefect of the annona at the turn of the second and third centuries was linked (as Bond assumes) to an injury caused by government officials.[3] On the contrary, it could have resulted from a dispute between different trades (transporters and grain measurers, in this case), as was seen later, at the end of the 4th century and the beginning of the fifth century. In these circumstances, the government does not appear to be brutally dominating society and in particular the lower social groups who respond by striking. The imperial power is called upon, and put under pressure, to act as an arbitrator responsible for regulating potentially conflictual social relations through law and justice. To conclude on a comparative and somewhat anachronistic note, like those Romans from Arles, we are also entitled to expect auxilium aequitatis from modern states and legitimate rulers.
Notes
[1] N. Loraux, Éloge de l’anachronisme en histoire, Le genre humain, 27/1, 1993, 23–39.
[2] J.-M. Carrié, Les associations professionnelles à l’époque tardive: entre munus et convivialité. In Jean-Michel Carrié, Rita Lizzi Testa (eds.), “Humana sapit”. Études d’antiquité tardive offertes à Lellia Cracco Ruggini, Paris 2002, 309–332.
[3] CIL, III, 141658 (AE 2004, 1577 ; AE 2006, 1580).