Scholarship on ‘Homeric Society’ is in flux. New approaches to and reinterpretations of well-known evidence have made parts of Finley’s long dominant The World of Odysseus obsolete. Finley’s main point, however, now finds increasing support: ‘Homeric Society’ is neither a product of poetic fantasy nor an unrealistic amalgam of cultural traits from the Bronze to the Archaic Ages—although both are true to some extent—but a largely consistent depiction of a real society. This society probably should be dated near the poet’s own, about a century later than Finley thought.1 In this society the polis—certainly in an early stage of its evolution—was a much more pervasive feature than is usually believed.2 The long prevailing view that an elite of basileis dominated every aspect of life and that the ‘commoners’ counted for little has been challenged.3 Focusing primarily on military developments, I shall argue that the role of these commoners in both army and assembly, although for obvious reasons played down by the poet, was essential to society and the polis. This has important consequences for our understanding of the evolution of the early Greek polis.4
This theory assumes that in early Greece a ‘heroic’ mode of fighting prevailed, as it seems to be depicted in the Homeric epics: the battle was decided by the leaders (basileis), while the masses of their followers played an inferior role. By contrast, the hoplite phalanx later required the involvement of larger masses of equally equipped and trained soldiers. Thus a new class of citizens, the free farmers who could afford the panoply, were integrated into the polis army and eventually achieved political integration as well. This ended the phase of elite domination of the polis and ushered in an age of egalitarian constitutions. Essentially, that means, military change caused political change.
This theory has a venerable tradition. Aristotle anticipated it,5 Eduard Meyer and Max Weber elaborated and generalized it, and Martin Nilsson formulated its essence eloquently:
Overcome by the new tactic and its demands, the Greek army of knights and the Greek aristocratic state vanished, just as later the army of knights and the feudal world of the Middle Ages were wiped out by the invention of gun powder.6
The underpinnings of this theory were strengthened in the 1960s by Snodgrass’s seminal work on the evolution of early Greek military equipment and its political consequences. Snodgrass demonstrated that from about 750 the elements of the hoplite panoply, of various origin, were gradually combined and adapted, and by about 650 the equipment, formation and fighting tactics of the hoplite phalanx were fully developed. This evolution, says Snodgrass, took place almost entirely after Homer, and brought about a profound military, political and mental change around the mid-seventh century.7 With slight modifications, this theory still is widely accepted.8 That one of its presuppositions is untenable, however, was demonstrated almost twenty years ago.
Snodgrass’ views did not remain unchallenged. On the one hand, Detienne and Cartledge pointed out that the hoplite shield with its double grip must have been created specifically for the needs of a massed formation.9 V. Hanson now argues persuasively that battle tactics usually do not follow changes in equipment but equipment develops as a consequence of changing needs on the battlefield. The hoplite panoply was unsuitable for individual combat, focused uniquely on frontal fighting and depended on a close-ranked formation. Hence it must have been developed precisely to make an existing mode of fighting more effective.10 Now hoplite shield and helmet are first attested shortly before 700. Accordingly, in the second half of the eighth century, at the latest, fighting tactics must have begun to change in the direction of more densely packed mass formations, and this development necessitated, and in turn was advanced by, the development of armour and weapons that were suited particularly for this type of fighting. Snodgrass now agrees that the long transitional phase of experimentation with new equipment, which he thought preceded the phalanx, in fact was largely identical with the gradual development of the phalanx itself.11
On the other hand, Latacz, Pritchett and van Wees have re-examined the Homeric battle descriptions. Their reconstructions of Homeric battle differ widely, but all have found consistent evidence for mass fighting.12 For my present purposes, this is all that matters. Despite exaggeration and— unrealistic, but poetically necessary and dramatically effective—focus on the deeds of heroic individuals, enhanced by elite ideology (as it is expressed concisely in Odysseus’ rebuke of the commoners in Il. 2.200– 2), mass fighting in the Iliad is indeed of decisive importance. The poet’s frequent emphasis on the exemplary and selective function of his descriptions and the importance accorded to all fighters, explicit scenes of mass fighting, the battle exhortations, the similes, and the egalitarian methods of distributing the booty13—these and other indications clearly reveal the poet’s basic conception of battle: into the framework of two mass armies confronting each other along an extended battle line he fits a kaleidoscope of typical scenes that focus on both individual and collective efforts, switching from a bird’s-eye perspective to a close-up view and back. Even Snodgrass and Cartledge now agree that ‘mass armies, and not heroic champions, are the decisive element in Homeric battle’.14 Although crucial technological and tactical changes took place after Homer, what we see in the Iliad is thus essentially an early precursor of the hoplite phalanx. In fact, the poet observes that the avoidance of individual exploits and strict adherence to tight formations, ‘friend defending friend from headlong slaughter’ (17.364), helps secure victory and greatly reduces losses. Such insights must have been at the root of the idea of the hoplite phalanx.15
That mass fighting is decisive in Homer is of the greatest importance. It eliminates not just a stone in a mosaic but one of the pillars on which traditional views of the evolution of the polis and Archaic Greek society have rested. If the elite did not dominate the battlefield and monopolize military power, the entire picture changes.
In the eighth century, even in an age of burgeoning panhellenism, singers and audiences would have found it difficult to imagine a ten-year war fought abroad by a gigantic army under the supreme command of the king of Mycenae and comprising contingents from many areas in Hellas. In describing this war, the poet naturally utilized phenomena that were familiar to his time. Raiding expeditions by land or sea, carried out by warrior bands of various size under the leadership of one or more nobles, are exemplified by Achilles’ forays from the camp at Troy, by Odysseus’ stops on his way home, and by the fictitious biography of Odysseus ‘the Cretan’.16 Communal wars between neighboring poleis often developed out of such raids. One of the scenes on the shield of Achilles combines several phases of such neighbourhood conflicts (Il. 18.509–40); so does Nestor’s story of the war between Pylians and Epeians in his youth (11.670–761) and the story of the origins of the Trojan War itself, as it is interpreted by the poet: a private expedition led by a young nobleman yields a beautiful woman and lots of precious objects; ambassadors demand the return of both; their demands are rejected in the Trojan assembly, which thus shares the responsibilty for the decision (3.205–24; 11.138–42); the injured party’s community then fights a retaliatory war against the perpetrator’s polis. Quite logically, the Trojan War resembles a war between two neighbouring cities: Troy on one side and the temporary Achaean polis on the shore17on the other side of a large and fertile plain—a familiar constellation and often a cause of war throughout Greek history. Communal involvement in war is mentioned often in passing and thus was normal.18
Private and communal forms of warfare equally co-existed throughout Archaic Greek history. The earliest wars between neighbouring poleis are attested precisely for, but not earlier than, the last third of the eighth century: the conquest of Messenia, the Lelantine War, and many others. Conversely, naval raids appear on early vases. Herodotus offers stories of private warrior bands roaming the coasts of the Mediterranean. Private or semi-private actions are attested through the early fifth century and may account for much of the early fighting, for example, between Athenians and Aeginetans, Megarians, and Mytilenaeans, which later generations naturally interpreted as communal.19 Solon’s ‘law of corporations’ includes groups specialized in taking booty (F 76a Ruschenbusch).
Such extensive convergence between the epic world and history is significant. Snodgrass’s and Donlan’s complementary reconstructions of Dark Age (pre-polis) society provide the larger historical context. With few possible exceptions (pointed out by Morris), the population, vastly reduced in numbers compared to the Bronze Age, lived in scattered villages, surrounded by farms and pastures and consisting of small groups of families which engaged in subsistence farming and herding, and followed the lead of their ablest member, a sort of chieftain.20 Warfare must have consisted of raids and limited expeditions against neighbouring lands and coasts, conducted by warrior bands under the command of local or regional leaders. There simply were not enough bodies and there probably was little need for massed fighting in any kind of close-ranked formation.
From the tenth to the eighth centuries the population grew with increasing speed. Contacts with other peoples broadened. The economy was transformed. Settlements expanded, new ones sprung up, previously unoccupied lands were cultivated. In the course of this process the polis ‘crystallized’, often coalescing from several neighbouring villages. As the polis territories were filled up, land became precious, resulting in conflicts both within each polis and with neighbouring poleis. There emerged the notions of ‘territoriality’ and fixed boundaries, often marked by rural sanctuaries.21 Wars broke out about the control of land. The citizens thus had to be able to defend their fields. The response was massed fighting in communal armies, made possible and necessitated by increased population densities, increasing and widespread wealth sufficient to afford the necessary equipment, and the new organizational structures of the early polis. As fighting for the existential base, if not the existence, of the polis became increasingly important, ways were sought to improve the effectiveness of the citizen army: technological and tactical changes interacted with economic and social changes to produce, at the end of a long process, the hoplite phalanx. By the late eighth century, then, mass fighting in communal armies and wars between neighbouring communities had become part of the normal experience of life—so much so that the poet of the Iliad naturally incorporated them into his descriptions.
In examining some of the consequences of such experiences, we should begin by expelling from the closets of our textbooks two skeletons that have lingered there far too long. One is the theory that tyranny and hoplite phalanx were directly connected, that is, that tyrants rose to power in Greek poleis with the backing—and perhaps in turn promoting the interests— of the ‘hoplite class’ or, alternatively, that they introduced the phalanx.22 Apart from chronological problems, it is clear that the farmers who served in the hoplite army were not a conscious, unified class in economic or political terms, ready to support the highest bidder. With the consensus on a gradual development rather than sudden introduction of the hoplite system, and with changes in our understanding of tyranny, this theory has become untenable.23 The hoplite-farmers were the essential group among the citizens. Those who failed to qualify did not count for much socially and politically. To say that tyrants were supported by hoplites is thus equivalent to saying that they found support among those citizens who mattered. This has nothing to do with the phalanx per se.
The other skeleton is the theory of the ‘hoplite revolution’ with which I began. It is not tenable either if for at least a full century before 650 mass fighting had been an integral part of the experience of war and in fact provided the impetus for the development of the phalanx. Instead, I propose, first, the polis, the phalanx and the sphere of ‘the political’ in the polis evolved in an interactive process over a long period of time; second, the concepts of land ownership and ‘territoriality’ were inseparable components of this interrelated process;24 and, finally, polis aristocracies, rather than pre-dating the phalanx and capable of manipulating it, controlling access to it and conceding rights in connection with it, evolved as part of that same process. To emphasize, I do not deny the importance of the military factor but I question its role as sole or primary agent of political change. This is a tall claim. It obviously cannot stand only on the basis of the military evidence discussed so far. Objections will be raised immediately. In the remainder of this chapter, I shall present arguments to support my thesis and refute such objections.
First, Snodgrass had good reasons to date the breakthrough of the phalanx to the mid-seventh century. Around that time, cheap, mass-produced lead hoplite figurines were dedicated in Spartan sanctuaries in rapidly increasing numbers; a seal found in Sparta represents hoplites as well; hoplite equipment was dedicated in other sanctuaries, subsequent to the disappearance of warrior burials with arms; the poetry of Archilochus and especially Tyrtaeus seems to reflect changing fighting modes (although this is contested), and protocorinthian vases show pictures with hoplites and phalanx fighting.25 All this seems to indicate an important shift in public conscience connected precisely with the phalanx. But was it provoked by the introduction rather than the perfection and formalization of phalanx warfare? Even after a long and gradual development, such formalization must have been accompanied by incisive changes in the polis. Organizational structures needed to be introduced, definitions (who qualified, who not?) debated and accepted, with possible implications for status and political participation.26 This process roughly coincided with another, more general one, of formalizing political institutions and offices.27 Hence changes in communal consciousness that were at least partly connected with the phalanx are not surprising— even if the phalanx was not entirely new at that time and no new class of citizens had recently been integrated into it.
Second, Cartledge emphasizes a significant point: since hoplites had to provide their own equipment, not only economic capacity but also the will to enroll was required, and that made the hoplites members in a civic corporation and explains the apportionment of political prerogatives in accordance with military function.28 No doubt, the principle of self-equipment was of decisive importance. The panoply was not inexpensive. To be a hoplite determined status and ‘belonging’ in the community. But questions remain. Did the hoplite-farmers really, as is always assumed, represent only a small segment of the community? I seriously doubt it but cannot discuss this here.29 Was qualification initially determined simply by the ability to own the (or some of the) equipment—and when and why was this criterion changed to that of economic capacity measured in agrarian produce?30 Could the panoply, moreover, be acquired through spoils or passed on through families and generations— fitting being cheaper than buying? If so, even more men could have qualified, and economic capacity might initially have been a relative, not absolute, criterion. And, if being a hoplite determined status, would citizens not be willing to make sacrifices and buy a shield rather than, say, a new coat? At any rate, I object to the assumption, underlying traditional arguments, that hoplites might have been unwilling to serve. If the enemy attacked your fields, you would want to help defend them: the hoplites fought on their land for their land. This determined the social and ideological implications of the phalanx from the beginning and for centuries to come. Nor should the linking of military and political aspects in timocratic systems be overstated. The basic division was threefold: those who owned horses (the status symbol of the elite), those who (depending on which interpretation of zeugitai we accept) fought in the phalanx or, perhaps more probably, owned a yoke of oxen (the status symbol of the citizens who mattered), and the rest.31
Third, how can a militarily empowered citizen body be compatible with an assembly, such as it appears in Homer, that is usually deemed insignificant because it seems passive and powerless? The fact is rather that the Homeric assembly plays a crucial role. Every action and decision with importance to the community takes place in an assembly, whether at war, on an expedition, or in the peaceful polis. The people witness such actions, listen to the debate, express their approval or dissent collectively (by voice or even feet!), and share the responsibility for the outcome.32 In the ancient world the normal assembly model was not that of democratic Athens but that of Sparta, Macedonia and Rome, directly descended from the Homeric version: it lacked initiative and isegoria, and it depended largely on elite leaders or officials.
In the interactive model I propose this makes sense. As the polis evolved, the men who owned the land fought in the army to defend the territory of the polis and sat in the assembly to participate in its decisions. These men were politically integrated all along, to the extent possible and normal at the time. At the same time, the former elite of village heads evolved into a stratified aristocracy. But, under the conditions of Dark Age Greece, these leaders held precarious positions and did not stand far above their men. In the evolving polis they lacked opportunities as well to set themselves up as a distant, rigidly separate class.33 Despite splendour in lifestyle and self-presentation, the elite’s position continued to be precarious; vertical mobility (exemplified by Odysseus ‘the Cretan’, later by Theognis) remained a possibility—downward by those who lost their wealth, and upward by those who did well, for example, by making a fortune in raiding and trading trips abroad.34
Yet essential parts of Archaic poetry reflect elite predominance and show at least parts of the demos in various relationships of dependence. Is this compatible in principle with the demos’ fighting in the polis army or phalanx? The traditional response is negative: Odysseus’ rebuking of the demos as worthless in war and council (Il. 2.200–2) is widely seen not as an expression of ideology but as reflecting the norm and reality, and Hesiod, to cite Bryant, ‘crystallizes the “moral economy” of a demos in dependence’, which is generally taken to be incompatible with a militarily active and politically significant demos.35 But is this necessarily correct? Citizen participation in politics, in an elementary but communally important way, involving the same men who served in the army, evidently was compatible with elite domination. Elite ideology aimed at enhancing such domination and increasing the distance between elite and masses. Continuing economic and social differentiation would reinforce such trends, resulting in a sense of great superiority and abuses of power on the part of the elite, and, among the commoners, in both real and perceived dependency and powerlessness (as we find it in Hesiod, Solon and the ‘Solonian crisis’).36 The commoners’ military involvement might not in itself suffice to stem this trend, especially if it pre-dated the sketched developments and if the intensity and meaning of hoplite warfare changed over time.
Fourth, this brings up another important point. Contrary to common views, war among Greek poleis was endemic but not permanent, and it lost much of its existential threat once the polis system was in place and somewhat balanced (roughly by the late seventh century). I do not intend to minimize the seriousness of the wars fought in fairly regular intervals between Hellenic poleis. But the impact of such wars seems to have decreased. Phalanx fighting, as Connor emphasizes, was increasingly ‘ritualized’.37 Various explanations have been proposed for this phenomenon: the agonistic spirit of the Greeks, or the function of war to ‘integrate the young into the patriotic community’. As Burkert puts it, each generation had ‘the right and the obligation to have its war’.38 I suggest that such ritualization could evolve only because in the particular world of Greek poleis between the late seventh and early fifth centuries the function of war, normally, was to determine the prestige rather than the existence of the community of citizens who formed a poils. This explains why later tradition remembered so few destructions and enslavements of cities in the Archaic period.39
The contrast between Rome and Sparta is illustrative: in the latter case, we find an early constitution that instituted regular meetings of the assembly and defined its place in the communal decision-making process. What made this necessary, I suggest, was less the war with Messenia itself than the helotization of the defeated, the existential threat they continually posed to the Spartiate community, and the fact that henceforth the Spartiate hoplites assumed permanent military responsibility for the security of their polis.40 The difference in warfare between ‘permanent and existential or essential’ and ‘occasional and ritual’ was decisive. In poleis that were less permanently threatened the military factor might have had less of an impact.41
If, then, in most poleis the formalization of egalitarian structures—perhaps quite common by the late Archaic period—was not directly related to the hoplite phalanx, what brought it about? Morris proposes as a cause a major economic change, visible in large areas of the Greek world in the late sixth and early fifth centuries.42 For my purpose, this is too late. The process I am interested in began in Athens and other places in the late seventh century. It probably was a difficult process and could only be realized under the pressure of profound changes in society or major threats to it.
If, with few exceptions, not danger from the outside, the decisive factor perhaps was danger from within the polis: infighting(among elite families, their abuse of social and economic power, and severe social conflicts posed existential threats to the polis as well. The formalization of institutions, the enactment of written law and the appointment of mediators and legislators with extraordinary power served as means, supported by the entire polis, to overcome such crises.43 So too the formal political empowerment of the farmers served the purpose of stabilizing the polis that was in danger of complete destabilization. As such, it was essentially welcomed and supported by elite and non-elite citizens alike, each for their own good reasons. The fact that these farmers were hoplites was the condition, a necessary but neither a sufficient nor the immediate cause of their integration: membership in the phalanx was one of three interconnected factors (besides ‘citizenship’ and ownership of land) that were crucial in determining membership in the essential part of the citizen body.44
I have argued that, if examined for its effects on the further development of the polis, the evidence of Homeric and early Greek warfare leaves no space for a hoplite revolution. The land-owning farmers from the very beginning formed an integral element, both militarily and politically, in the evolving polis. Owing to this triple role of landowners, soldiers and assembly-men, they naturally became the essential part of the citizen body. Despite such foundations of equality in the early Greek polis, economic and social differentiation continued and resulted in elite domination and abuse of power. The farmers, who all along played an essential informal role in the assembly, later on were formally integrated in ‘isonomic’ polis constitutions, with few exceptions (especially that of Sparta) not primarily as a result of their contribution to the phalanx, but as a result of serious social crisis and in an effort, supported by the entire polis, to stabilize the community and set it on a broader base of citizen involvement and communal responsibility.
1 Finley, The World of Odysseus, 2nd edition; cf. I.Morris, CA 5 (1986), 81–138; Patzek, Homer und Mykene; Ulf, Die homerische Gesellschaft; van Wees, Status Warriors; Murray, Early Greece, 2nd edition, chapter 3; Raaflaub, in Latacz (ed.) Zweihundert Jahre Homer-Forschung, 207–15, and in Fisher and van Wees (eds) Archaic Greece, with more bibliography on supporters and opponents of this view.
2 Van Wees, op. cit. (n. 1), chapter 2; Raaflaub, in Hansen (ed.) The Ancient Greek City-State, 41–105.
3 Starr, The Economic and Social Growth of Early Greece, 800–500 B.C., chapter 6.
4 I use terms such as state, city, or citizens in a loose, non-technical sense. Restrictions of space force me to be very brief. More detailed discussions of the many complex issues involved will be presented elsewhere.
5 Arist. Pol. 4.1297b16–28. Aristotle’s observation ‘of a strict isomorphism between political power and military function’ (P.Cartledge, in Settis [ed.], I Greci, ii. I. 694) certainly is valid but as an evolutionary model applied to early Greece it is probably entirely theoretical.
6 Meyer, Geschichte des Altertums, iii, 2nd edition, 512–17; Weber, Economy and Society iii. 1352, 1359–60; M.Nilsson, Klio 22 (1929), 245.
7 Snodgrass, Early Greek Armour and Weapons; JHS 85 (1965), 110–12.
8 Cartledge, op. cit. (n. 5); Murray, op. cit. (n. 1), chapter 11; P.Bryant, Sociological Review 38 (1990), 484–516.
9 M.Detienne, in Vernant (ed.) Problèmes de la guerre en Grèce ancienne, 119–42; P. Cartledge, JHS 97 (1977), 11–27.
10 V.Hanson, in Hanson (ed.) Hoplites, 63–84.
11 A.M.Snodgrass, DHA 19 (1993), 47–61; cf. J.Salmon, JHS 97 (1977), 84–101.
12 Latacz, Kampfparänese, Kampfdarstellung und Kampfwirklichkeit; Pritchett, The Greek State at War, iv. 1–33; H. van Wees, G&R 41 (1994), 1–18, 131–55.
13 Details in the works cited in n. 12. Booty: see M.Detienne, Annales ESC 20 (1965), 425–41; Havelock, The Greek Concept of Justice, 129–33; Nowag, Raub und Beute, 36–50.
14 Snodgrass, op. cit. (n. 11), 48; Cartledge, op. cit. (n. 5), 689.
15 More bibliography on the nature and evolution of the hoplite phalanx in Raaflaub, op. cit. (n. 2), 53–4, 79–80; see also H.Bowden, in Rich and Shipley (eds) War and Society in the Greek World, 45–63.
16 Il. 1.123–6, 366–9; 2.690–3; 6.414–27; Od. 9.39–61; 14.211–75; cf. Nowag, op. cit. (n. 13); A.Jackson, in Rich and Shipley, op. cit. (n. 15), 64–76; T.Rihll, ibid., 77–107.
17 Raaflaub, op. cit. (n. 2), 47–8.
18 Od. 2.28–32; 14.237–9. 16.424–30; 21.15–21 reflect communal efforts to prevent the escalation of private into public warfare.
19 Ahlberg-Cornell, Fighting on Land and Sea in Greek Geometric Art, the story of the Spartan Dorieus is but one example (Her. 5.41– 8); Berve, Gestaltende Kräfte der Antike, 2nd edition, 232–67; Herman, Ritualised Friendship and the Greek City, F.J. Frost, Historia 33 (1984), 283–94; Figueira, Athens and Aigina in the Age of Imperial Colonization, chapter 5; Humphreys, Anthropology and the Greeks, 165.
20 Snodgrass, An Archaeology of Greece, chapter 6; W.Donlan, MH 46 (1989), 129–45; SO 64 (1989) 5–29; I.Morris, in Rich and Wallace-Hadrill (eds) City and Country in the Ancient World, 25–57.
21 De Polignac, La Naissance de la cité grecque. See generally Snodgrass, Archaic Greece, and in Hansen, op. cit. (n. 2), 30–40; Starr, op. cit. (n. 3), and Individual and Community, and the bibliography cited by Raaflaub, op. cit. (n. 2), and in Latacz, op. cit. (n. 1), 239–47.
22 Andrewes, The Greek Tyrants, 36–8; Andrewes, The Greeks, 58; Forrest, The Emergence of Greek Democracy, 104–5; see also Cartledge, op. cit. (n. 9), 21–4; Salmon, op. cit. (n. 11), 92–101; de Ste Croix, The Class Struggle in the Ancient Greek World, 280–2.
23 A.M.Snodgrass, JHS 85 (1965), 116; Starr, op. cit. (n. 3), 178–80; McGlew, Tyranny and Political Culture in Ancient Greece; Stahl, Aristokraten und Tyrannen im archaischen Athen.
24 I cannot discuss this here in detail (see Snodgrass, Archaic Greece, 37–40, and in Hansen, op. cit. [n. 2], 37–9) but suggest that the connection, typical of the developed polis, between land ownership, military capacity and citizenship or political rights existed already in the Homeric polis, albeit in an undeveloped and unformalized way.
25 Snodgrass, op. cit. (n. 23), 116; Snodgrass, Archaic Greece, 99–100, 105–6; Cartledge, op. cit. (n. 9), 26–7; Salmon, op. cit. (n. 11), 85–92.
26 Some thoughts on this in Snodgrass, op. cit. (n. 11), 60–1, and Arms and Armour of the Greeks, 61.
27 Stein-Hölkeskamp, Adelskultur und Polisgesellschaft, 94–103; H.-J.Gehrke, in Colloquium…A.Heuss, 49–67.
28 Cartledge, op. cit. (n. 5), 105.
29 Cf. Donlan and Foxhall, pp. 45–6 above and p. 131 below.
30 As reflected in Ath. Pol. 7.3–4; cf. Rhodes, Commentary on the Aristotelian Athenaion Politeia, 138.
31 Zeugitai: most scholars now prefer the military interpretation: see Rhodes, loc. cit.; D.Whitehead, CQ 31 (1981), 282–6. In favour of the socio-economic interpretation see Foxhall, p. 131 with p. 136 n. 109 below.
32 Havelock, op. cit. (n. 13), chapter 7; F.Gschnitzer, in Festschrift R.Muth, 151–63, and in Latacz, op. cit. (n. 1), 182–204; Carlier, La Royauté en Grèce, part 2; Raaflaub, op. cit. (n. 2), 54–5, with more bibliography.
33 This needs to be pursued further: see Starr, op. cit. (n. 3, 21); Donlan, The Aristocratic Ideal, chapter 1; Stein-Hölkeskamp, op. cit. (n. 27), chapter 2; Raaflaub, in Latacz, op. cit. (n. 1), 230–8, with more bibliography.
34 Od. 14.199–234; Theognis 53–8, 173–8, 267–70, 525–6, 667–70; see also 183–96, 1109–14.
35 Bryant, op. cit. (n. 8), 492.
36 Hes. W.D. 33–9, 202–12; Solon, frs. 4.5–14 and 4c West; see also Theognis 39–52, 1081–2b. Solonian crisis: e.g., Rhodes, op. cit. (n. 30), 90–7; T.Gallant, BSA 77 (1982), 111–24; A.Andrewes, C.A.H., 2nd edition, iii.3. 375–91; Murray, op. cit. (n. 1), chapter 11. Elite ideology in Homer: van Wees, op. cit. (n. 1). This issue obviously needs further discussion.
37 W.R.Connor, P&P 119 (1988), 3–29 Cartledge, op. cit. (n. 5), 697–702. Impact of wars: Raaflaub, Die Entdeckung der Freiheit, 82– 92, and in Eder (ed.) Staat und Staatlichkeit in der frühen römischen Republik, 516–31.
38 Burkert, Homo Necans, 48; recent discussion: C.Meier, HZ 251 (1990), 563–78.
39 Ducrey, Le Traitement des prisonniers de guerre, 112; Karavites, Capitulations and Greek Interstate Relations, 33–5, 130.
40 On Sparta, see the bibliography cited in Raaflaub, op. cit. (n. 2), 64–8, and Thommen, Lakedaimonion Politeia; on Rome: Raaflaub, HZ 238 (1984), 552–63, and in Transitions to Empire…E.Badian, 273–314.
41 Conversely, it played a decisive role, owing to the essential function assumed permanently by the fleet, in Athens’ evolution towards democracy after the Persian Wars: Raaflaub, in Kinzl (ed.) Demokratia, 35–6, and in Morris and Raaflaub (eds) Democracy 2500.
42 I.Morris, in Ober and Hedrick (eds) Demokratia; Robinson, Early Greek Democracies Outside Athens.
43 See the bibliography in Raaflaub, op. cit. (n. 2), 68–75; Gehrke, op. cit. (n. 27).
44 On early concepts of citizenship, see Walter, An der Polis teilhaben; Manville, The Origins of Citizenship in Ancient Athens. At least in fifth-century Athens metics too served as hoplites: this poses the question whether and to what extent hoplite status ever was an exclusive citizen privilege.
45 On the latter aspect, see Meier, The Greek Discovery of Politics, chapters 3 and 4.