We have so far observed a number of common features of the archaic period – colonisation, tyrants, lawgivers – within the general theme of the evolution of the institutions of the polis, it is essential to recognise, however, that these and other things occurred at different rates (if indeed at all) in different parts of the Greek world, with the result that by the end of the archaic period that world was highly diverse in character. W. G. Forrest writes, for example, of The Emergence of Greek Democracy. Democracy certainly did ‘emerge’, as we have seen (Chs.6–7), in Athens, and in some other places as well (notably in Ionia and Sicily), but elsewhere oligarchy was and always remained a perfectly natural and viable form of government; in certain poleis there were good reasons, internal or external, for prolonging the rule of tyrants into the classical period; many aristocracies survived unshaken either by tyranny or by demands for a wider diffusion of power; and in some parts of the Greek world the primitive monarchies of the Dark Ages continued to exist. (On the role of tyrannies (and oligarchies) in the patronage of ‘traditional’ arts see 29, 72 with n.4.) Admittedly, where social and political development could proceed unimpeded – a crucial proviso – a polis was always defined as the collectivity of its politai, but that said nothing about how, by what means and to what limits, this collectivity was to take on actual political shape.

Just as the creation of the empire was an enterprise of the polis, so the wealth from the empire, public and private, facilitated the visual transformation of Athens by the construction of magnificent sacred and secular buildings and the lavish celebration of the festivals of the polis with their associated dramatic contests (for an early tragedian, Phrynichus, see 105). The artistic and literary achievements of the fifth century are indeed so stunning that it is hard for us to remember that to an Athenian they were an essential and inseparable aspect of the religion of the polis. It is also important to remember that it was the dēmos which chose and paid its architects (as in the accounts for the building of the Erechtheion, see 242 Intro.), the dēmos which channelled the resources of the wealthy into, for instance, the training of choruses for the dramatic festivals (see 144); it was not only the scale of activity which led to advance, but also the fact that for the first time a dēmos was patron of the arts. The contrast with the tyrants and aristocrats for whom Pindar continued to write traditional odes celebrating victory in the Olympic and other games (see 11–12) could not be more striking. For a large selection of texts in translation see J. P. Sabben-Clare and M. S. Warman (eds.), The Culture of Athens (Lactor 12, 1978).

Although Kleisthenes can be seen to have been the creator of many of the cardinal features of radical, participatory democracy in Athens (Ch.7), his creation was in many ways no more than a blueprint for the future, and the development of the system in practice – whether or not as envisaged by him – was left for the fifth century. On one level this was a matter of changes in political attitudes, and consequently in political behaviour, on the Athenians' part, changes hastened on their way by such practical corollaries of the Kleisthenic machinery as the institution of salaries attached to all the new public offices (see 137 and 141); and evidence selected to illustrate the character of public life and politics in the period is presented in Ch.13. But on the purely constitutional plane there was still to come after Kleisthenes a half-century of development, most of it pithily documented in the Aristotelian Ath. Pol. It is impossible to say whether those responsible for each part of the process, known or anonymous, saw themselves primarily as tinkering with the past or mapping out the future; nonetheless the various individual developments did go to make up a more or less coherent and linear evolution, to a point where Athens in the second half of the fifth century displayed a set of political institutions and practices corresponding almost exactly with those which Aristotle – looking back from the fourth century – declared to be characteristic of a democratic constitution (126).

To Sparta one must devote its own chapter; inevitably so, for Sparta was, or became, unique. As successive waves of Greek-speaking peoples migrated down into the Balkans towards the end of the second millenium, most of them simply displaced the previous inhabitants of whatever area they chose to settle in. Hence, in large measure, the eastwardflowing ‘colonisation’ of the Aegean islands and the coast of Asia Minor between c.1050 and c.950 (not to be confused with the later and more organised colonising movement documented in Ch.2). But the Dorians, who by c. 1000 were pressing on down to the southern Peloponnesos and occupying the Eurotas valley, took a different course – to subjugate the population which they found there and to subordinate it totally to their own requirements. Such a policy was not, in point of fact, unparalleled outside Sparta and Lakonia, as we have already seen (19; Austin and Vidal-Naquet, Economy, 65, 86–9), but there is every reason to believe that the problems which the Spartans (or more properly Lakedaimo-nians) thereby created for themselves became in the end uniquely severe – particularly when they took the step of annexing neighbouring Messenia also, in much the same fashion (45); and certainly without parallel was their own course of action once the full extent of those problems had become apparent. Already odd in various ways (possessing, for instance, a dual monarchy: 50), Sparta changed during the seventh and sixth centuries in aspects and at levels so fundamental as to be revolutionary.

Considerable in extent, but still inadequate, the sources which form the basis of our knowledge of ancient Greek history have in many cases survived either by pure chance or for literary reasons unconnected with their historical significance. Within the necessarily restricted confines of a single volume, we have tried both to represent the diversity of the Greek historical tradition and to present what we hope is a balanced picture of ancient Greek society. What we offer is a selection from the selection already created by time and chance, but it is at least a deliberate one. There is of course much that cannot be documented from written sources, and we have tried to draw attention to archaeological and other evidence, just as we have tried to explain difficulties and uncertainties in the written sources. The book has been born from and improved by our own teaching experiences. It is also in its final form the result of prolonged discussion of the parts for which each of us provided a first draft. Traces of our different interests and approaches no doubt remain. We shall be grateful for the comments of our colleagues and above all for those of the students for whom the book is intended to provide, through the medium of their own language, an approach to one of the most absorbing human societies of all time. That the book exists at all is due to a very large extent to the interest and encouragement of the Cambridge University Press. We warmly thank those concerned.

Having taken the decision after the defeat in Sicily to fight on (see 226), the Athenians were remarkably successful; the last years of the war, however, saw the balance of power shifting steadily against them. Internal dissension affected their ability to control the empire (see 235) and the cohesion of the fleet (see 236), culminating in the trial of the stratēgoi who fought at Arginousai (237). Finally, failure to perceive that Persia had definitely decided to back Sparta led to inevitable defeat. But not the least interest of these years lies in the deliberate attempt to preserve homonoia, concord, in the polis (241–243); the fatal mistake of the democracy was perhaps not to realise that the loyalty of the rich was as crucial as that of the poor.

235. Phrynichos and the empire

Given the absolute dependence of Athens on her empire in the last stages of the war (see 215 for the service rendered by Alkibiades in this sphere), it is not surprising that problems arising out of the relationship between Athens and the dēmos in each polis should be prominent in this period, with a dēmos favourable to Athens at Chios and Samos, an oligarchy hostile to Athens at Rhodes, Thasos and Methymna (in this last case with the help of mercenaries, Thuc. VIII. 100); nor is it surprising that the period should evoke reflection on the problems, here attributed by Thuc. to Phrynichos (for whom see 227).

The Greek poleis in Asia Minor soon found that they had to live with powerful empires based in the interior, first Lydia, then Persia; after the defeat of Lydia, Persia indeed controlled the entire seaboard of the eastern Mediterranean, from the Bosporos to Pelousion; the conquest of Egypt and Kyrene in the south and of Thrake in the north soon followed. But the empire which in 490 and 480 set out to conquer Greece was not only vast, it was also from the reign of Dareios onwards relatively highly organised, compared with other ancient empires of the Mediterranean area.

The Greeks were fascinated by Persia (see in general Momigliano, Alien Wisdom, ch.6), and Herodotus (partly no doubt because he was born in Halikarnassos) was able to describe Persian religion and social structure with a fair degree of accuracy; but despite his often accurate perception of the alien nature of Persia (see 99), Herodotus chose to place a quintessentially Greek constitutional debate in a Persian setting (see 89). Greek fascination with Persia did not prevent the perpetuation of substantial ignorance and, during the century and a half in which the two worlds co-existed, endless difficulties over their mutual relationships (see, for instance, 231, as well as 99); and the Greeks never really understood the functions of proskynēsis (obeisance, see 98) or of ‘gifts’ in an absolute monarchy.

As the climax of the interchange of demands and counter-demands which Thucydides represents as filling the period between the Spartan and the Athenian votes for war (181), the Spartans insisted that the Athenians ‘let the Greeks be autonomous’ (see 194a) – in other words, relinquish their Aegean hēgemonia. The Athenians, despite what Perikles is made to say in Thuc. 1.144.2 (194a), had no aggressive objective corresponding to this. It is therefore obvious that whereas the Athenians could have settled for simple survival in the war (see Thuc. I.144.1, II.13.9 and II.65.7), the Spartans needed to win it outright. Unfortunately – for them – they turned out to be ill-equipped to do so, at least during the Archidamian War. The theoretical basis of Peloponnesian strategy was necessarily well known to all concerned (see 183), but since the same must have been true of the Athenian counter-strategy there was every possibility of stalemate unless one side or the other could make a really telling move, or else capitalise on their opponents' mistakes or bad luck. It was undeniably bad luck for the Athenians that in 430 they fell victim to the Plague (196), but the Spartans found no way to take advantage of this, and for the first seven years of the war their basic strategy – annual invasions of Attika (186) – proved increasingly and embarrassingly ineffective.

Behind the decision of Philippos II to attack Persia (see 350), implemented by his son Alexander the Great, there lie both a growing awareness in Greece that it could and should be done and the type of hegemony briefly exercised by Iason of Pherai.

Persian money often seemed in the fourth century to control the Greek poleis like so many puppets (Diod. xv.70.2; Xen. Hell. VII.1.27); there were nonetheless real weaknesses in the Persian position. The post of satrap itself was often in effect hereditary (see Xen. Hell. IV.1.32) and large areas of the Persian empire were actually ruled by local dynasts owing nominal allegiance to Persia. The Hekatomnids, for example, were able to create a virtually independent kingdom in Karia (see 339), and Euagoras ruled Cypriot Salamis from 411 to 374/3, years which included a period of open rebellion from Persia.

The Persian royal house was also sometimes a prey to internecine strife, as in the sequence of events which led up to the attempt of Kyros on the throne (see 252). The subsequent escape of his mercenaries, the Ten Thousand, the invasion of Asia by Agesilaos and the successes of Athens all helped to create an impression of Persian weakness. It may be that this picture is overdrawn (so C. G. Starr, ‘Greeks and Persians in the fourth century B.C.’, Iranica Antiqua II (1975), 39–99; (1977), 49–115), but the important thing is that it existed, and existed alongside Greek resentment of Persian influence.

The wholesale devastation of Attika after the fortification of Dekeleia by the Spartans (see 229) had been something new in Greek warfare; but the years from 394 to 386 saw the devastation of much of the north-east Peloponnesos (even the sanctuary of Perachora in the territory of Corinth was fortified, at some point before 371, see R. A. Tomlinson, Annual of the British School at Athens 64 (1969), 155) and Boiotia was ravaged by the Spartans in the 370s. It is not surprising that such sufferings were accompanied by an exacerbation of existing conflicts between democrats and oligarchs or that the fourth century saw a resurgence of tyranny as a general phenomenon (see 317 Intro.), quite apart from the spectacular tyranny of Dionysios of Syracuse and its aftermath (294–297). Even Athens was now haunted by a fear of tyranny (see 25B).

At the same time, the use of mercenaries (see 257 and 287, also 298) came to be taken for granted, not least in internal strife. A casual notice in Polyaenus (a writer of the second century a.d. on stratagems), relating to the Corinthian War, is revealing: ‘Iphikrates was in Corinth; learning that the opposite side intended to bring in some mercenaries by night from Sparta …’ (III.9.45). These are probably the remains of Xenophon's Ten Thousand (see 252); but with Persian money available, the practice was often repeated.

‘Tyranny’ in the Greek context simply means unconstitutional rule by an individual. Few Greek poleis, apart from Sparta, avoided a period of such rule during the archaic age (even if the date was different in different poleis), and so the temptation to see archaic Greek tyranny as a general phenomenon and to seek general explanations is a strong one. But few of those which have been advanced, from the alleged rise of a mercantile class to the appearance of the hoplite phalanx (for which see 22), stand up to examination.

The source problems are grave: Herodotus preserves much information (even if it contains already a large ‘fairy-tale’ element), but within a chronological framework rejected by most Greek scholars of the fourth century and later (see p.618). Their information, however, must also be treated with caution; Aristotle distinguishes not, as we do today, between tyranny down to the Persian Wars and tyranny of the late fifth century or later, but between the tyrants of his own day and all earlier tyrants; Dionysios of Syracuse (tyrant from 406 to 367) was for Aristotle one of the archaioi tyrannoi (tyrants of old), and it is clear on some points and likely on others that what is reported of archaic tyrants in our sense of the term is heavily influenced by the career of Dionysios.

A few general points may, however, be made.

With the end of the Peloponnesian War and the consequent dissolution of the Athenian empire, the Spartans had a second chance, 75 years after 479, of an unchallenged Aegean hēgemonia. Its implementation, however, and above all that ‘freedom for the Greeks’ which Sparta had claimed to be going to war to restore (Thuc. I.139.3), lay at first chiefly in the hands of Lysandros, around whom some of the trappings of a personality cult had by now arisen (see 249) – though there were others in the Spartan leadership, notably king Pausanias, who found themselves at odds with him in the style and substance of policy-making (see Xen. Hell. II.4.29). At all events, although the 390s saw an intensification of those internal problems – political, social and (in Greek eyes) moral – which while always endemic in Sparta were now to lead directly to her catastrophic defeat at Leuktra (see Ch.28), the period between 401 and 395 found Spartan aims and preoccupations at their most outward-looking for eighty years. Ultimately, though, the desultory Asian campaigning, even in the hands of the strong new king Agesilaos, brought few concrete results – except for the outbreak of the Corinthian War (254).

For a modern study of the period 405 to 386 see C. D. Hamilton, Sparta's Bitter Victories: politics and diplomacy in the Corinthian War (Ithaca, N.Y., 1979); his model of Spartan political life is, however, too schematic.

Colonisation and tyranny are not the only phenomena common to many archaic poleis; between the eighth and the sixth centuries these acquired communal institutions which were defined and recorded, a process where the evidence of inscriptions supplements the literary evidence. Whatever form of constitution a polis developed, whether aristocracy, oligarchy or democracy, the rules for its government and for the administration of justice were laid down and known; they could be discussed, justified, attacked or changed and the rule of custom which persisted, whether it functioned well or ill and whether it commanded admiration or its opposite (see 9 and 10), had gone for ever.

Co-operative values

Although Homer always remained the great educational poet for the Greeks, the competitive values which he idealised (though not to the exclusion of justice, see 5 and 9) were clearly not always at a premium in the classical polis. There must have been some development of co-operative values, even though on the one hand a belief in justice, community and rationality (G. E. R. Lloyd, Magic, Reason and Experience (Cambridge, 1979), esp. 264–7) were probably always elements in the mental make-up of the Greeks, and on the other hand the polis continued to provide an arena for competition. Striking early expression of a belief in justice is to be found in a poem of Theognis (see Adkins, Moral Values, 42–3, who, however, exaggerates the contrast with Homer).

The difficulties in the way of characterising changes in the economy of Greece between the fifth century and the fourth are almost insuperable. We possess a great deal of evidence for economic activity in the fourth century; but almost all of it is from Athens and there is no way of telling whether Athens was qualitatively different from other fourth-century poleis or merely larger and better documented. Similarly, we do not know the extent to which practices amply attested in the fourth century were already characteristic of the fifth. In some cases we can see continuity: the position of Peiraieus in the fifth century is already clear (see 159) and is perpetuated in the fourth (276); the mines are already a major factor in individual and collective wealth in the fifth century (see 161) and it is largely accidental that it is the fourth century which provides evidence for their organisation (277). We happen to know of the composition of the substantial estate of the father of the orator Demosthenes, but such estates probably already existed in the fifth century (278). With our knowledge of the chariots maintained by Alkibiades (see 219), it is no surprise to find in the fourth century wealth used for ostentatious display and land mortgaged to raise money not for productive investment but for further display (279–280).