Growing up in London, I remember playing football with friends when one of us noticed a distant plume of smoke rising over Lewisham, a borough in southeast London. Soon after, we noticed a lot of police vehicles seemed to be heading across into Lewisham via Charlton Way. Although we didn’t yet realize it, we were looking at the 2011 London riots.

Riots — particularly in urban communities where socioeconomic inequality creates tension between classes — are not a new phenomenon. In fact, they have been well-documented throughout human history, both for the damage they have caused and the social and political shifts they have represented.

The causes of riots, as I hope to demonstrate, have been mostly consistent throughout history, and indeed are readily observable both in ancient Roman literature and in modern times. But the ways in which these riots have been reported to us — and, by extension, how we have viewed instances of social unrest — have changed considerably over the years.

Many of the familiar problems that skew our understanding of the past can make it difficult for historians to piece together the ancient riot and its underlying motivations. The problem is one of perspective. In the time of Tacitus (whose own sentiments on rioting and social unrest I will examine later in this article), the voice of the Roman aristocracy dictated events and thus dictated the reader’s perspective. But in the twenty-first century, riots are streamed directly into our homes. Every window smashed, every car set alight, every rioter is seen; every voice is heard.

Social unrest was common in ancient Rome, and the Senate often faced uprisings of the plebeian class that proved difficult to suppress. Particularly in the late Republic, assemblies of the people were so liable to escalate into rioting and city-wide chaos that the Senate was forced to enact legislation which “authorized the use of an armed posse” (Nippel, p.51) for Roman magistrates and patricians who might be swept up in the chaos that so often followed the passing of a new law.

When this measure proved insufficient — “bodyguards” could be readily bribed, and often took the law into their own hands — the urban cohorts were established to deal with civil disorder. But even these experienced veterans could be caught off guard and unable to deal with extensive rioting.

Indeed, it is almost impossible for the modern mind to underestimate the social unrest and destruction so essential to the Roman modus vivendi, especially in times of political turbulence.

Riots in Rome had many causes: food shortages; high rent costs for houses and apartments that were liable to sudden and catastrophic collapse; political tensions. Even the undesired result of a chariot race or a sub-standard theatre show could incite city-wide violence.

Some of the factors that could bring about urban disorder in ancient Rome still exist today. In London, one need only replace chariot-race riots with football derbies and collapsing houses with a lack of housing to discern the factors that — throughout human history — have consistently induced outbreaks of social unrest in an urban environment.

In the Cena Trimalchionis (part of Petronius’ Satyricon, regarded by some as the first “novel” ever written, dated to around the late 1st-century A.D.), a freedman (Trimalchio) who has made a personal fortune since gaining his freedom from servitude hosts a dinner party for his friends. Like Trimalchio himself, they are members of the nouveaux riches. At dinner, the guests discuss such topics as their estates and the academic progress of their children, but what would perhaps resound most with the modern reader is the following passage taken from Ganymedes’ speech (44.1–16):

“I swear I cannot get hold of a mouthful of bread today. And how the drought goes on. There has been a famine for a whole year now. Damn the magistrates, who play ‘Scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours,’ in league with the bakers. So the little people come off badly; for the jaws of the upper classes are always keeping carnival. (…) This town goes downhill like the calf’s tail. But why do we put up with a magistrate not worth three pepper-corns, who cares more about putting two-pence in his purse than keeping us alive? He sits grinning at home, and pockets more money a day than other people have for a fortune. I happen to know where he came by a thousand in gold. If we had any spunk in us he would not be so pleased with himself. Nowadays people are lions in their own houses, and foxes out of doors. I have already eaten my rags, and if these prices keep up, I shall have to sell my cottages.” (trans. Heinemann)

Ganymedes’ sentiments — if adapted to suit modern concerns (the rising price of the Freddo chocolate bar, for example, is regarded by many members of my generation as the greatest economic injustice of the twenty-first century)— would not be out of place in any British pub on a workday evening. In attempting to discern those factors which can readily frustrate the members of a society who are vulnerable to socioeconomic inequality, little has changed, regardless of perspective. Bread (or chocolate) prices are still very much a concern.

The media attention on the recent riots in Baltimore has focused mainly on the damage done to public and private property in the city. Mainstream news outlets have done little to address the underlying socio-economic causes that led to the outbreak of rioting in the first place. As we have already seen, many of these factors are familiar causae that have been consistently present throughout the history of social unrest: food shortages, insufficient housing, and a lack of public services.

In Baltimore, a lack of investment in education is just one of many problems that the city has faced: “Baltimore City Public School buildings are in a state of crisis. The schools, many of which were built before WWII, lack basic amenities necessary to adequately educate children — heat, light, electrical outlets, many even lack drinkable water.” And where a lack of affordable housing has plagued Baltimore for decades (a problem thought to have contributed to the outbreak of rioting in the city), in ancient Rome the freedmen class had their land completely repossessed, an act of social inequality that, unsurprisingly, led to riots:

“(…) for all of them [the freedmen] who were in Italy and possessed property worth two hundred thousand sesterces or more had been ordered to contribute an eighth of it. This resulted in numerous riots, murders, and the burning of many buildings on their part, and they were not brought to order until they were subdued by armed force.” (Cassius Dio, Roman History 50.10.4, trans. Cray)

So has anything changed since Dio’s days? What if anything, is different about the riots that took place in Baltimore?

There are — I believe —a few significant differences between the ancient Roman riot and the riots in Baltimore. In addition to the common causes of rioting already discussed, there is another highly sensitive issue involved in discussions of the Baltimore riots: the systemic racial oppression that has historically affected the lives of racial minorities. While I cannot offer a deeper insight into this issue and its complex past, this sentiment from Barack Obama’s speech on the riots expresses the essence of the recent problems as regards the connection between racial inequality and the Baltimore riots themselves: “Since Ferguson, and the [policing] task force that we put together, we have seen too many instances of what appears to be police officers interacting with individuals, primarily African Americans, often poor, in ways that raise troubling questions.”

In ancient Rome, social oppression based on racial discrimination was essentially non-existent: “Though upper class Italians were contemptuous of provincials in general, and Eastern peoples in particular, Roman society was not marred by overt racial or ethnic discrimination.” (Africa 1971, p.5). Large-scale civil revolts, particularly those that arose in the Eastern provinces of the Roman Empire, were certainly met with severe force. But these rebellions were typically political in nature and did not stem from racial discrimination.

So increased racial discrimination is one factor that differentiates ancient Roman riots from contemporary ones. The other main difference is in the actual reporting of the riots, and the way we view them.

A significant methodological concern affects all attempts to use ancient sources to understand the causes (and even the actual events) of social disorder in ancient Rome. As Kelly 2007 points out, history is written by the winners: “In the case of Roman riots, the overwhelming majority of extant contemporary accounts come from an elite perspective. This is a significant impediment to our proper understanding of riots, which by their nature involve conflict between the ruling elite and the masses.” (p.152).

This problem is made that much more difficult because many riots in ancient Rome were in fact incited by the patrician class to serve political means, as was the case in the riots which led to the death of Tiberius Gracchus in 133 B.C. That the aristocracy would directly instigate rioting is conceptually difficult for the modern mind to imagine. Yet in the late Republic especially, the city of Rome saw many such instances, as Plutarch relates the unprecedented anarchy of a riot induced by the Senate:

“All the senators who followed him wrapped their togas about their left arms and pushed aside those who stood in their path, no man opposing them, in view of their dignity, but all taking to flight and trampling upon one another. Now, the attendants of the senators carried clubs and staves which they had brought from home; but the senators themselves seized the fragments and legs of the benches that were shattered by the crowd in its flight, and went up against Tiberius, at the same time smiting those who were drawn up to protect him. Of these there was a rout and a slaughter; (…) This is said to have been the first sedition at Rome, since the abolition of royal power, to end in bloodshed and the death of citizens; the rest, though neither trifling nor raised for trifling objects, were settled by mutual concessions, the nobles yielding from fear of the multitude, and the people out of respect for the senate. (…) But the combination against [Tiberius Gracchus] would seem to have arisen from the hatred and anger of the rich rather than from the pretexts which they alleged (…) Nor was this all; they banished some of his friends without a trial and others they arrested and put to death.” (Plutarch, Lives [Tiberius and Gaius Gracchus], Section 20. Translation by Bernadotte Perrin).

Plutarch’s account of this riot surely condemns the Senate, the elite, the winners, who instigated “the first sedition at Rome, since the abolition of royal power”. But still our perspective is singular.

The land reforms proposed by Tiberius Gracchus (more specifically the Lex Semprona Agraria) were the actual point of contention and source of senatorial outrage, as Tiberius sought to redistribute state-owned land to the less fortunate members of society. What did the plebeians — who stood to benefit from Tiberius’ plans — think of all this? Surely Plutarch could have recognized that we would garner a better understanding of this rioting and social unrest if we heard the voices of the poor and homeless, who were to be given 30 iugera (still a meagre amount in comparison to the 500-iugera cap which Roman aristocrats had so readily — and so illegally — surpassed) for the sake of greater social equality? Even if the Senate were to blame, still they dictated events and perspectives.

Although to imagine British aristocrats leading a riot through the streets of London today is almost beyond the bounds of possibility, one could certainly recognize a lack of different perspectives in the reporting of the London riots, where British Prime Minister David Cameron condemned rioters and called for “even more robust police action”. Again, the underlying causes and motivations of the riots as expressed by those who were actually affected by the crimes committed and the damage done were largely ignored by mainstream media. Plutarch’s senators, swarming about the city and wreaking physical havoc, could be quite readily compared to the British politicians who were so quick to verbally attack the rioters (and so afraid to address the underlying issues of the riots themselves).

Once the dust had settled, conferences and analyses were drawn up to address the true motivations behind the riots, as the Telegraph writer Mary Riddell concluded that, “successive British governments have colluded in incubating the poverty, the inequality and the inhumanity now exacerbated by financial turmoil.” Nevertheless, the London riots were reported to us more as a display of senseless destruction than as a cry for help. The news crews and reporters had done their work: all too firmly was the image of a burning London, overwhelmed by senseless vandals, imprinted into the minds of TV-watchers and radio-listeners.

Plutarch, writing as an aristocrat for fellow aristocrats, was not concerned with a range of viewpoints. Almost all accounts of rioting and social disorder in ancient Rome and in other parts of the Roman Empire come from an elite perspective. Cassius Dio was a Roman consul, Pliny the Younger and Tacitus were both senators, and Livy and Suetonius were at least of equestrian rank.

Generally it can be said that these men of wealth and influence did not look favourably on rioters and rebels themselves. Tacitus’ criticisms of social unrest and disobedience are well-known by ancient historians, as he wrote on the various riots that took place among the Roman legions following Augustus’ death in 14 CE (Annals 1.16):

“So much for the state of affairs in the capital: now came an outbreak of mutiny among the Pannonian legions. There were no fresh grievances; only the change of sovereigns had excited a vision of licensed anarchy and a hope of the emoluments of civil war. (…) News had come of the end of Augustus and the accession of Tiberius; and Blaesus, to allow the proper interval for mourning or festivity, had suspended the normal round of duty. With this the mischief began. The ranks grew insubordinate and quarrelsome — gave a hearing to any glib agitator — became eager, in short, for luxury and ease, disdainful of discipline and work. In the camp there was a man by the name of Percennius, in his early days the leader of a claque at the theatres, then a private soldier with an abusive tongue, whose experience of stage rivalries had taught him the art of inflaming an audience. Step by step, by conversations at night or in the gathering twilight, he began to play on those simple minds, now troubled by a doubt how the passing of Augustus would affect the conditions of service, and to collect about him the off-scourings of the army when the better elements had dispersed.” (trans. Jackson).

Although few perspectives are quite as elitist as that of Tacitus, it was often observed during the Baltimore riots that most of the media attention was clearly singular in its perspective and approach: news crews and reporters arrived only after the destruction of public and private property began to occur, while the peaceful protests and demonstrations were largely if not completely ignored. In their relaying of information to the reader/viewer, Tacitus and Fox News alike have suggested that organized and civil discussions in favor of improving social conditions have never made for “interesting” stories.

So has nothing changed? Does a Tacitean perspective still characterize our understanding of the problems in Baltimore and in other cities all over the US?

Fortunately, we live in a time where anyone’s voice can be heard. Mobile phones, texting, the internet, and in particular social media have all enabled sentiments in support of victims on the lower end of the social spectrum that in Tacitus’ time simply went unheard. President Obama’s speech criticizing the media’s reporting of the Baltimore riots for its focus on the looters and rioters rather than on those trying to solve Baltimore’s deeper problems has been viewed by millions. Videos exposing biased coverage spread like wildfire through social media and YouTube, and quotes from the past were revived for the light they could shed on the real causes and complications of the rioting:

“…I think America must see that riots do not develop out of thin air. Certain conditions continue to exist in our society which must be condemned as vigorously as we condemn riots. But in the final analysis, a riot is the language of the unheard.” (Martin Luther King Jr. 1967)

This is the fundamental difference in how we understand riots and instances of social unrest in urban communities today: new technology and the sharing of information on a scale never before seen in human history is changing our perspective. Though it is as difficult as ever to push for real social change and progress, news-watchers of the twenty-first century at least enjoy the means to understand both sides of the story.

As I watched the London riots on TV, personally safe and uninvolved, I couldn’t understand what would drive people to embrace such destruction. The rioters seemed motivated by no great ideology or economic pressure — they seemed to be enjoying themselves. It was fun for them. What would Tacitus have said? Would he have have condemned the London rioters for their destructive behaviour, as he did the disorder of the plebeians at Julius Caesar’s funeral (Annales 1.8)?

Maybe. But maybe it doesn’t matter what Tacitus thought. Maybe it would have been better to have heard those less fortunate members of Roman society who heralded Caesar’s endeavors to help them. Maybe I could have gained some new insight and perspective had Tacitus written more about Caesar’s efforts to redistribute land among the poor, to accommodate veterans who had fought for the Roman State, to provide grain to Rome’s hungriest citizens.

Now and in the foreseeable future, more and more voices and perspectives will be heard in the midst of riots and social unrest. This attention and growing range of viewpoints —unavailable to the maltreated citizens, legionaries, and provincials of Rome’s violent past — may spell the end for the Tacitean riot-narrative, so thoroughly perpetuated in ancient Rome.

Patrick Shutt is a third-year undergraduate student of Classics at the University of Durham. His dissertation, “Roman poetic patriotism and its manifestation in early American literature”, led him to develop a keen interest in Classical Reception and the ways in which the Classical past revives and recreates itself, especially in literature.

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect the views of the Paideia Institute.