Posted by andy@assembla.com Sat, 20 May 2006 21:16:00 GMT

I have been reading a book called The Greek Commonwealth – Politics and Economics in Fifth Century Athens. Originally published in 1911, it’s not out of date. According to the author, “it is natural for human beings to enjoy using their own best faculties. Men never felt that enjoyment so keenly, or put so much high effort into its attainment, as in the workshops of ancient Greece. If you seek a proof, go look through the shelves of our Greek museums. There is hardly an object that they made, however rude, but bears on it, sometimes faintly, sometimes with speaking clearness, the touch of the spirit of Art.� How can we bring that spirit to our work, every day?

This author (Alfred Zimmerman) also writes: “Our modern industrial system, with an ingenuity so wicked that one might believe it to be deliberate, has contrived to take the joy out of craftsmanship, and so to choke up the very springs of art. It has replaced, wherever possible, the delicate skill of the human hand by inhuman machinery, and the independent thought of the human brain by soulless organization. It has removed the maker or producer from all association with the public for whom he works, and substituted a deadening cash-nexus for the old personal relationship or sense of effort in a corporate cause. Above all, it has taken from him his liberty, and forced him to work for a master who is no artist.�

Alfred Zimmerman, a long-dead Oxford don, could lead a workshop on how to build modern, high-performing software teams and startups. Here are some of his observations about the craftsmen of ancient Greece:

  • When the Greek city states hired craftsmen, the foreman and the well-know artists received the same rate of pay as all of the other men on the crew, including the slaves. This rate was set for a long time at one drachma per day. There were no social barriers at work.
  • The most talented competed not for money, but for honors, which in Athens included a golden crown.
  • Competing craftsman clustered together, sharing their clientele, their stories, and their knowledge.
  • They had enough leisure time for stories, and aspired also to be citizens and soldiers.
  • Greek workshops tended to be small – a craftsman and several apprentices – and they were never bigger than 20 people. The master was always an artist, not a manager.

Like many before me, I believe that the pre-Christian philosophy of the ancient Greeks gives us vision of what a man can achieve on Earth, as a citizen and father. I draw inspiration from Odyssyus, the ultimate survivor. I am often amused by the goofy anecdotes of Herodotus. Sometimes I read the endless political debates of the democrats, demogogues, and tyrants, learning how great nations can be hijacked by small-minded men, and how the small-minded can eventually be cast off. That sounds relevant to my reading of the daily news.

What American cannot be inspired by the story of the war against Persia? The Greek citizens came out of their stone huts and small towns, and stood against the army of the greatest and wealthiest imperial power on the face of the earth. There was the last stand of the 300 Spartans, the desperate evacuation of Athens, the high-stakes maneuvering at Salamis. Then came victory, the Parthenon, and science as we know it. 2000 years later the minutemen had this very story on their minds as redcoats marched into Concord.
Emerson gives us the scene:
By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.