The Emergence of a Green Utopia at the Birthplace of Democracy: Zakynthos in the Future

This project takes a strange and winding voyage upon turbulent seas -- zigzagging slowly around thousands of cities across the seven continents of the globe. Here, now, we arrive at yet another utopian city of the future: Zakynthos, the capital of the Greek island of the same name.

Zakynthos in the Future

Zakynthos was the first place in the world to establish an independent democracy, as inscribed in its legal system around 2,500 years ago. This social structure remained in place for an impressive six and a half centuries.

Today, located in the sunny Ionian Sea, Zakynthos is renowned as a tourist destination, celebrated for its seven thousand varieties of flowers and its literary heritage from the nineteenth century. Both Dionysius Solomos, Greece's national poet, and Ugo Foscolo, Italy's national poet, were born in Zakynthos and crafted their most famous works there.

Two thousand years ago, however, Zakynthos was known for something different: its tar. The great Greek city-states, like Athens and Sparta, would dispatch their naval ships to Zakynthos, eager to visit Lake Kerion on the island to collect tar and coat their warships. The tar helped insulate and preserve the ships, enhancing their speed and resistance to decay.

However, as Zakynthos was both independent and democratic, there were specific public protocols that all Greek commanders had to follow before obtaining what they sought. For instance, Leocrites, the commander of the Athenian navy, and his lieutenant, Mippus, might have had to participate in a public seminar at the city’s large amphitheater to answer questions from the interested citizens. It would proceed as follows...

In front of twenty thousand people, Leocrites randomly picked out a little clay shard from a large ceramic pot with one person’s name etched on it. The official pot attendant, himself randomly selected the day before, then announced the name for all to hear:

“The first shard is that of Lasus! Please, Lasus, stand to ask Commander Leocrites your question.” 

Up in row H, in the north section, Lasus stood up, flicking his pastel blue tunic into place. The Zakynthons all looked over at him in anticipation of his question. “My question is this: why have you come here?”

Leocrites stood up and yelled loudly, “We have come here to warn you that you will be attacked!”

To this, Lieutenant Mippus added, “And we have come here to ask you if we can have some lake tar.” 

“What for?” asked Lasus again. 

“No, no,” said the pot official aloud. “We’ve taken your one question.” He pushed his hand into the pot to randomly pick out another clay shard. “Okay, the next shard belongs to Ogoros!” 

“That’s me!” yelled out a Zakynthon in the last row wearing a pastel yellow tunic. “So, who’s going to attack us? Is it you?” 

“No!” said Commander Leocrites, annoyed by the confusion. He then tried to explain that all they really wanted was the tar, but he didn’t get very far. 

“Yes, yes! That’s enough,” interrupted the pot official again. “Only one answer per question, please. Otherwise it becomes unfair,” he said wagging a finger at the commander. The commander was about to finish his point, but the pot official had sunk his hand into the pot and selected another shard. “Nicandos!” he announced. 

A barefooted Zakynthon, dressed in a disheveled pastel pink tunic, stood up in the stands not far behind the commander, gazed into the distance, and, unsure of himself, belched out his question. “Umm, do you have mountains in Athens?” 

“Yes,” said Commander Leocrites slowly with a quizical look plastered on his face, “of course!” 

“Who cares about mountains?” said his lieutenant sharply. “We’ve come to tell you—“ 

But he was cut off by the pot official, once more chiding that they had a lot to get through and a 'yes or no' answer would have to do for that particular question. The official reached down deep, one foot, two feet, three feet into the pot, and came out with a new shard and a new name. “Pallados!” 

“Do your mountains go up or down?” came the question from Pallados. The lieutenant rolled his eyes. 

“What are you talking about?” replied Commander Leocrites.

“Do they go up or down?” asked the Zakynthon from his seat in the amphitheater. 

“Well . . .” said Leocrites, a little bewildered. “Up!”

“Up?” repeated the Zakynthon in astonishment, and the whole crowd appeared to echo his surprise.

“Yes! Up!” said the lieutenant forcefully. “The same way you’ll be smashed when the Spartans arrive! Listen...”

“You are respectfully reminded,” interrupted the pot official, “to answer only the question specifically addressed to you. Due democratic process must be adhered to.” He then scooped up another shard. “Okay. Polyprax!”

Polyprax was an elder Zakynthon wearing a pastel orange tunic and he stood up very slowly with the help of those around him. “In case you didn’t know,” he said loudly and slowly, “our mountains go down. Sometimes. Usually. Especially when you’re standing on top of them. So it’s quite exciting for us to hear about your mountains that go up.”

“Ask your question please, Polyprax,” said the pot official impatiently.

“Yes, okay,” answered the old man. But when he spoke again, he admitted he had forgotten it. “Um. . . Just a second . . . Let me think . . . Ummm . . .”

Lieutenant Mippus frowned at the slowness of the proceedings. Suddenly he stepped in front of the pot official and spoke aloud to warn the Zakynthons that they might soon be attacked by a fleet of crazy, heavily armed Spartans.

“Does that answer your question, Mr. Polyprax?”added the pot official. The old Zakynthon responded that he hadn’t yet asked his question.

At this point, the official just reached for another shard of clay, saying, “Well, we have to move on—maybe next time.”

“What next time?” yelled the old Zakynthon angrily. “There’s twenty thousand of us here.What are the chances that I’ll get picked again?” The pot official interrupted, telling the old Zakynthon that he should have been more careful with his question. “Here’s my question, then,” said Polyprax, not giving up. “Who made you the pot official?”

At this, the entire stadium became tense, all eyes focusing on the official. The official indignantly waved his hand and announced that the question had not been authorized.

“Puh—you’ve become a pot tyrant!” said the old Zakynthon to the laughter and cheers of many in the crowd. Some of those nearest him started yelling out: “Pot tyrant! Pot tyrant! Pot tyrant!”

“Listen,” Lieutenant Mippus started up again. “We just wanted to warn you! Now, may we collect some lake tar, please?”

“No, no, no, Lieutenant!” said the pot official, one hand flapping around violently and

the other banging the pot. “You must wait before you can ask your questions. Now, where was I?”

“When will the attack begin?” yelled out an unknown Zakynthon from among the masses. The indignant pot official demanded to know who had asked the question without his permission.

“It was me, Agoren!”

“Did I pull out your name?” asked the pot official as he fussed about with the clay shards in his hands.

“Shuddup about the pot names for a minute!” yelled out Agoren before proceeding to warn all present that they had better listen to the Athenians to find out more about the imminent attack. The official, though, began loudly rattling off various rules of the democratic process.

“Damn the rules!” yelled Agoren excitedly. “What are we going to do?!” “Yeah, what are we going to do?” shouted more Zakynthons in the rows nearby. Soon the whole east stand was on its feet yelling the same question in chorus. Another bunch of Zakynthons in the north section then started yelling for them to shut up and let the pot official do his job.

Amid the growing cacophony, the pot official screamed aloud the next name. “Larsus!”

“Hey—he’s already had a question,” yelled various Zakynthons from around the amphitheater. 

“That was Lasus, not Larsus, you morons!” yelled another group.

One Zakynthon then lurched into the air and crowd-surfed down to the center of the amphitheater, rushed to the pot, and kicked it over. It smashed to pieces, scattering thousands of clay shards on the ground. 

Cheers and jeers erupted in anarchic symphony. Amid the chaos, Commander Leocrites shook his head and whispered to his lieutenant that they best leave to go find the tar for themselves.

What does the story of Zakynthos reveal to us? That democracy is slow? That it is awkward? That it involves too much discussion and insufficient action? Perhaps, but the democracy of Zakynthos endured longer than any other worldwide, and Lake Kerion remains encircled by seven thousand flowers. What was beneficial for Zakynthos in 500 BC might still be beneficial in 2121.

Moreover, the Spartans never invaded the island.