The 1983 health reform in Greece was a major political event in the social policy agenda. The main objective of the reform was the institution of a National Health System and the expansion of the health sector, improved equity, and the assumption of full responsibility for health services delivery by the state. An assessment of the results 10 years after full implementation of the reform shows that despite the expansion of the public sector, the public-private mix in financing and delivery (...) has changed in favour of the private sector, making the Greek health system the most ‘privatised’ among the EU countries. The main reasons why the health reform failed to meet its objectives was the restrictive enforcement of full-time and exclusive hospital employment for doctors, the virtual ban on private hospital expansion, the much faster introduction and diffusion of new health technology by the private sector, and poor management, planning and control in the public sector. A new health reform voted into law in the summer of 1997 shows promise of redressing some of the shortcomings of the 1983 reform. (shrink)

The 1983 health reform in Greece was a major political event in the social policy agenda. The main objective of the reform was the institution of a National Health System and the expansion of the health sector, improved equity, and the assumption of full responsibility for health services delivery by the state. An assessment of the results 10 years after full implementation of the reform shows that despite the expansion of the public sector, the public-private mix in financing and delivery (...) has changed in favour of the private sector, making the Greek health system the most ‘privatised’ among the EU countries. The main reasons why the health reform failed to meet its objectives was the restrictive enforcement of full-time and exclusive hospital employment for doctors, the virtual ban on private hospital expansion, the much faster introduction and diffusion of new health technology by the private sector, and poor management, planning and control in the public sector. A new health reform voted into law in the summer of 1997 shows promise of redressing some of the shortcomings of the 1983 reform. (shrink)

Lycurgus' "Against Leocrates" has long been seen as an anomaly in the oratorical corpus by scholars of ancient rhetoric. Its extensive use of quotations from the poets and of personification are two features regularly picked out as especially odd and inexplicable by critics. This paper argues that these and other features of the speech are central to Lycurgus' attempt to persuade his jury to accept his radically un-Athenian political views. In fact, Lycurgus has rejected Athenian approaches to (...) punishment, prosecution, and politics in favor of Platonic views, which bear the taint of the elite philosophical schools. The quotation and the personification are two techniques that Lycurgus uses to craft a "new prosecutorial voice" that will overcome his audience's objections to his elitist and even Platonic political positions. I contend that the whole speech may be read as a study in how to craft a "voice" or form of oratorical self-presentation that will persuade an audience to accept heterodox political views. (shrink)

This paper seeks to contextualize Lycurgus' use of the historical example of King Codrus' self-sacrifice within Athenian social memory and public discourse. In doing so, it offers a solution to the puzzle of Lycurgus' calling Codrus one of the ἐπώνυμοι τῆς χώρας . I make the case that Codrus was one of the forty-two eponymous age-set heroes who played an important role in the Athenian military and socio-political system. I contend that devotion to the city's gods and heroes (...) and knowledge of their mythology were essential parts of the religious and ideological instruction of Athenian ephebes. Consequently, Lycurgus' citation of the Ephebic Oath, the self-sacrifices of King Codrus and the daughters of Erechtheus, as well as his repeated invocation of the city's gods and shrines, must be seen as integral elements of his indictment of Leocrates for cowardice and treason, behavior that is diametrically opposed to the hoplite ethos and religious devotion that were instilled into young ephebes. Lycurgus thus brings the jurors' memories of their own ephebate into the courtroom and taps into emotions and values that lie at the heart of Athenian collective identity. (shrink)

The relation between the opening section of Plato’s Laws and Xenophon’s Constitution of the Lacedaemonians usually goes unnoticed. This paper draws attention to its importance for understanding Plato’s project in the dialogue. It has three sections. In the first, it will be shown that the view proposed by Plato’s Athenian visitor that Lycurgus made virtue in its entirety the goal of his statecraft was anticipated in Xenophon’s treatise. It has to be treated as an interpretation of the Spartan politeia, (...) alternative to that advanced by Cleinias and Megillus, and accepted by Aristotle, which Plato could expect or at any rate hope to be taken seriously as such. In the second, the argument will focus on the contents of the legislative programme the Athenian says he had hoped to hear Cleinias ascribe to the Cretan and Spartan lawgivers. The case will be made that Plato can expect recognition by the reader that the programme is properly Spartan and Cretan by virtue of its echoes of the programme attributed to Lycurgus by Xenophon. Finally, the third section will argue that in making law primarily concerned with fostering the proper development, conduct, and treatment of human beings at every stage of the life cycle, above all by provision for sound customary practices and the like, Plato adopts the approach to law making taken by Xenophon’s Lycurgus. (shrink)

Archon or the Future of Government Hamilton Fyfe Originally published in 1927 "This is a good essay on the nature of government, or politics." Economic Review "Writes with a wide experience and an intimate knowledge". Daily Herald. This volume surveys the methods of government in the past and considers the conditions of government in the world of the early twentieth century. It predicts a system under which the affairs of communities will be managed by people specially trained for the job. (...) 90pp Cain, or the Future of Crime George Godwin Originally published in 1928. "Compels the reader to think…" Saturday Review "…makes out a strong case against the stupidity and cruelty of our present dealings with crime." Evening Standard In this volume the criminal is considered as curable and incurable; and the duty of Society to cure, in the one case and its right to destroy in the other, is discussed. Arguing that psychology is the rational instrument in the treatment of delinquency the volume then envisages criminal courts divested of power of punishment. 102pp. Solon or the Price of Justice C P Harvey Originally published in 1931. This volume calls attention to the exorbitant expense of civil actions. A scholarly review of the historical causes of this is followed by examination of the various solutions that have been proposed. 100pp Lycurgus or the Future of Law E S P Haynes Originally published in 1925 "A thoughtful book – deserves careful reading…" Law Times "A humane and conscientious investigation." T P’s Weekly This volume provides an analysis of the Law in England of the 1920s?? and deals with legislation, the law courts, criminal law, family law, land-laws, costs, international law, and individual liberty. 80pp. Fortuna Or Chance and Design Norwood Young Originally published in 1929 "Ingenious. His study of the "laws of chance" are not meant for those who wish to acquire sudden fortunes." T P’s Weekly. A philosophical essay on the subject of chance which is illustrated with examples from evolution, religion, economics and gambling. (shrink)

The article explores the role of the Spartan example in Guicciardini's political thought, giving a particular attention to his early writings. Examining a series of medical metaphors Guicciardini uses in the analysis of the state, the author uncovers Plutarch as their main source. It is argued that Plutarch, and his description of Lacedaemon, exercised a major influence in the formation of Guicciardini's political ideas. The author focuses on the crucial issue of the usage of “Lycurgus’ knife,” while answering two (...) key questions: (1) the feasibility of constituting a republic modelled on Sparta; (2) the legitimacy of the use of force in the cases of extreme necessity. On (2), Guicciardini's views are compared with Machiavelli's, and the difference in their understanding of necessità pointed out. (shrink)

The Spartan Rhetra quoted by Plutarch in Lyc. vi. 2 consists of some thirty-seven words in an archaic Dorian or near-Dorian dialect: Plutarch says it was an oracle, and that later an extra clause was added by the kings Polydoros and Theopompos; he quotes this ‘added clause’ in vi. 8. I believe this Rhetra was not an oracle but an act of the Spartan Ekklesia; and I suspect that the ‘added clause’ was not added, but is an integral part of (...) the original act. But for our first objective this opinion matters less than Plutarch's opinion. Our first objective must be to recover Plutarch's text : and to do that, we must understand his interpretation. (shrink)

Plutarch concludes his chapter on the Rhetra with six lines of Tyrtaios: φοβου κοςσαντες Πυθωνθεν οκαδ' νεικαν1 μαντεας τε θεο κα τελεντ' πεα ρχειν μν βουλῦς θεοτιμτους βασιλας οσι μλει Σπρτας μερεσσα πλις πρεσβτας τε γροντας, πειτα δ δημτας νδρας πθεαις τραις ντααπαμειβομνους. These lines are quoted to confirm Plutarch's statement, that the Kings who added the last clause to the Rhetra ‘persuaded the city [to accept this addition] on the grounds that it was part of the God's command'. On (...) Plutarch's view, the two Kings added an extra clause to an oracle, and justified their action by alleging that Delphi had authorized the clause. It is not immediately obvious how Tyrtaios’ lines confirm this view. The Delphic utterance whose substance is given in lines 3–6 approximately paraphrases parts of Clauses I and I I , but where is Clause III ? The burden has to be borne by the one word εθεαις: ‘the Kings and gerontes shall initiate business, the demos shall reply with undistorted rhetrai’ or ‘shall respond to the rhetrai without distorting them’ . If εθεαις is given enough weight, the oracle which Tyrtaios quotes may be held to forbid the ‘excessive amendment’ against which Clause III was aimed. (shrink)

In the foregoing parts of this paper I have sought, first to recover Plutarch's text of the Rhetra, which I believe to be also Aristotle's text. It is evident that Aristotle knew and commented on this Rhetra: I take it as my hypothesis that his account of it in his Spartan Constitution was substantially the same as what Plutarch gives us.

The Spartan Rhetra quoted by Plutarch in Lyc. vi. 2 consists of some thirty-seven words in an archaic Dorian or near-Dorian dialect: Plutarch says it was an oracle, and that later an extra clause was added by the kings Polydoros and Theopompos; he quotes this ‘added clause’ in vi. 8. I believe this Rhetra was not an oracle but an act of the Spartan Ekklesia; and I suspect that the ‘added clause’ was not added, but is an integral part of (...) the original act. But for our first objective this opinion matters less than Plutarch's opinion. Our first objective must be to recover Plutarch's text : and to do that, we must understand his interpretation. (shrink)

Plutarch concludes his chapter on the Rhetra with six lines of Tyrtaios: φοβου κοςσαντες Πυθωνθεν οκαδ' νεικαν1 μαντεας τε θεο κα τελεντ' πεα ρχειν μν βουλῦς θεοτιμτους βασιλας οσι μλει Σπρτας μερεσσα πλις πρεσβτας τε γροντας, πειτα δ δημτας νδρας πθεαις τραις ντααπαμειβομνους. These lines are quoted to confirm Plutarch's statement, that the Kings who added the last clause to the Rhetra ‘persuaded the city [to accept this addition] on the grounds that it was part of the God's command'. On (...) Plutarch's view, the two Kings added an extra clause to an oracle, and justified their action by alleging that Delphi had authorized the clause. It is not immediately obvious how Tyrtaios’ lines confirm this view. The Delphic utterance whose substance is given in lines 3–6 approximately paraphrases parts of Clauses I and I I, but where is Clause III? The burden has to be borne by the one word εθεαις: ‘the Kings and gerontes shall initiate business, the demos shall reply with undistorted rhetrai’ or ‘shall respond to the rhetrai without distorting them’. If εθεαις is given enough weight, the oracle which Tyrtaios quotes may be held to forbid the ‘excessive amendment’ against which Clause III was aimed. (shrink)

In the foregoing parts of this paper I have sought, first to recover Plutarch's text of the Rhetra, which I believe to be also Aristotle's text. It is evident that Aristotle knew and commented on this Rhetra: I take it as my hypothesis that his account of it in his Spartan Constitution was substantially the same as what Plutarch gives us.

This chapter contains sections titled: Introduction The Politics of the 330s Who Was Fighting Whom? What Were Lycurgus and Demosthenes Fighting About? Why Fight over Plato? The End of the Culture War Conclusion.

The background to the regime : Demetrius of Phalerum's early years. The years in obscurity : the reigns of Philip, Alexander, and the age of Lycurgus -- Demetrius' rise to prominence : Athens after Alexander -- The decade of Demetrius : some introductory observations -- Demetrius the law-giver : the moral programme. Burial laws -- The gunaikonomoi and their laws -- The nomophulakes -- Demetrius and the ephêbeia -- The laws : an interpretation and discussion of the historical context (...) -- The institutions of democracy. The citizen body -- The assembly and council -- Elections and the archonship -- Jurisdiction in the courts : the graphê paranomôn and eisangelia -- The Areopagus -- The Athenian institutions : a summary -- Festivals and finances : the economic administration of Athens. Demetrius and the khorêgeia -- The other liturgies -- The Athenian economy, 317-307 -- Philosophy and the Phalerean regime. Demetrius' laws and the Peripatos -- The philosophical schools and political calumny -- Demetrius : orator, peripatetic, and patron of philosophers -- Athens and Cassander. The years 317-307 : a narrative history -- Athenian foreign policy under Demetrius of Phalerum -- Conclusion -- Appendix 1. The literary sources for the regime of Demetrius -- Appendix 2. Gunaikonomoi & nomophulakes : a comparison -- Appendix 3. The duties of the gunaikonomoi : a rejected suggestion. (shrink)

In his account of the Persian Wars, the 5th century historian Herodotus reports an exchange between the Persian monarch Xerxes and a deposed Spartan king, Demaratus, who became what Lattimore later classified as a “tragic warner” to Xerxes. On the eve of the battle of Thermopylae, Xerxes asks how a small number of free Spartiates can stand up against the massive ranks of soldiers that Xerxes has assembled. Herodotus has Demaratus reply: So is it with the Lacedaemonians; fighting singly they (...) are as brave as any man living, and together they are the best warriors on earth. Free they are, yet not wholly free; for law is their master (ἐλεύθεροι γὰρ ἐόντες οὐ πάντα ἐλεύθεροι εἰσί· ἔπεστι γάρ σφι δεσπότης νόμος), whom they fear much more than your men fear you. This is my proof—what their law bids them, that they do; and its bidding is ever the same, that they must never flee from the battle before whatsoever odds, but abide at their post and there conquer or die. (Hdt. 7.104) As the outcome of Thermopylae makes clear, Demaratus is hardly guilty of boasting. But Greek political theorists were not only fascinated by the Spartans who fought at the battle of Thermopylae in 480; they also wondered how slightly more than a century later Sparta was ignobly defeated by Thebes at the battle of Leuctra in 371, after which Spartan hegemony collapsed. How did Sparta field citizen-soldiers in the 5th century who were without parallel in their bravery and military prowess? And why did Sparta, predominantly under the same political organization, collapse just over a century later? Such are the main questions that Xenophon, Plato, Aristotle, and Plutarch—what Cartledge (1999, 313–14) has characterized as “political-theoretical” laconophiles—seek to answer in their writings about Sparta. (shrink)

Spartan institutions were pictured as a model of political stability from the Classical period onwards. The so-called Spartan ‘mirage’ did not involve only its constitutional order but also social and economic institutions. Xenophon begins hisConstitution of the Lacedaemoniansby associating Spartan fame with thepoliteiaset up by Lycurgus, which made the Laconian city the most powerful (δυνατωτάτη) and famous (ὀνομαστοτάτη)polisin Greece (Xen.Lac.1.1). In Aristotle'sPolitics, in which the assessment of Sparta is more complex and nuanced, one finds a critique of contemporary Spartan (...) institutions as well as praise for Lycurgus as a great lawgiver who established the laws of Sparta (Arist.Pol.2.1269a69, 2.1273b20). Most other ancient sources often remark upon the unchangeable features of some Spartan institutions as a key aspect of Spartan εὐνομία. Thucydides maintains that, after a long period of war andstasis, the Dorians established excellent laws and Sparta employed the same constitution for more than four hundred years (Thuc. 1.18.1: τετρακόσια καὶ ὀλίγῳ πλείω ἐς τὴν τελευτὴν τοῦδε τοῦ πολέμου ἀφ᾽ οὗ Λακεδαιμόνιοι τῇ αὐτῇ πολιτείᾳ χρῶνται). (shrink)

The man in a Thracian outfit represented on a hydria in London as eating a dead child has been interpreted either as a Titan with Zagreus or Lycurgus with his son. Neither of these interpretations seems plausible, especially in light of our present knowledge about sacrificial rules. As I argue, the image is more likely to be inspired by a story dramatized in the Lycurgeia of Aeschylus, in which an advent of Dionysus to the country ruled by Lycurgus (...) caused an epidemic of cannibalism. With much likelihood, this motif was also present in a passage — unfortunately only partially preserved — in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca (21.117–123). This mythical crisis was subsequently solved by Orpheus, which seems clear from passages in Aristophanes, Horace and Themistius, who allude to a rationalized version of this story. (shrink)

In this article, I explore the meaning and function of Lycurgus in Machiavelli’s thought. While the exemplarity of the mythical Spartan legislator progressively fades in Machiavelli’s thought in favour of the Roman model, Lycurgus’ reforms are central in Machiavelli’s works on two issues of primary importance: wealth and land distribution. First, I analyse Machiavelli’s use of the ancient sources on both Lycurgus and other Spartan legislators to show how the former builds a selective and strategically balanced reading (...) of the ancient sources to build an image of the latter as a pro-popular ruler and of the subsequent Spartan reformers as followers not only of the mythical legislator generally, but also of his most controversial and popularly oriented attempts to reform property ownership in ancient Sparta. Lycurgus reveals how Machiavelli, far from seeing mixed government as the best form of government, promotes a strongly anti-aristocratic model. Second, I show that in Machiavelli’s thought the Spartan question can largely be seen as a background for his reading of Roman history, particularly its most crucial, conflictual and controversial period – that in which the Gracchi brothers’ attempted to achieve agrarian reform. (shrink)

Ecclesiazusae, the first surviving work of Aristophanes from the fourth centuryb.c.e., has often been dismissed as an example of Aristophanes’ declining powers and categorized as being less directly rooted in politics than its fifth-century predecessors owing to the after-effects of Athens’ defeat in the Peloponnesian War. Arguing against this perception, which was largely based on the absence of ad hominem attacks characterizing Aristophanes’ earlier works, this paper explores howEcclesiazusaeengages with contemporary post-war Athenian politics in a manner which, while different to (...) his earlier comedies, remained closely rooted in the political and cultural concerns of the 390s. By examining the figure of Praxagora, I will first consider recent suggestions thatEcclesiazusaehints at the possibility of an anti-democratic coup. I will then examine how contemporary discussions of constitutional and legal reforms (including the invocation of ‘founding fathers’ such as Solon and Lycurgus) are incorporated into both Praxagora's language and the scenes featuring the Selfish Man and Hags that follow the establishment of Praxagora's regime. Examining these final scenes, I conclude thatEcclesiasuzaedoes not suggest that the idea of democratic equality itself is fundamentally flawed, but instead argues that Athens needs a suitable leader, well suited to the rough and tumble of assembly rhetoric, in order to successfully function. In the world ofEcclesiazusae,the men of Athens have failed too often to inspire any hope, putting their own interest above the state, and the new leader must be someone different. Thus Aristophanes sets up Praxagora as a female Solon to remake the state and lead the democracy. The second half of the play demonstrates this need for a strong leader, as problems arise both from the quarter of critical bystanders (the Selfish Man and Epigenes, the Young Man in the ‘hag scene’) and from over-zealous enforcers (the Old Women). (shrink)

Schiller's political thought has been subject to conflicting interpretations. Taking Schiller's historical essay The Legislation of Lycurgus and Solon as a point of departure, this article locates him more precisely within the context of eighteenth-century debates on republicanism and moral philosophy. One of Schiller's central criteria in the evaluation of different republics is the question of how they comply with man's sensual and passionate nature. By attacking Sparta's constitution as despotic and unfit to meet human self-realization, he dissociated himself (...) from Rousseau and repudiated classical republican models. Instead, Schiller sided with modest proponents of luxury and progress by defending Athens' abundant and polite lifestyle. In response to the French revolution, Schiller developed his own aesthetic model of cultivating senses and passions to achieve a free society. Despite significant liberal elements, he thereby remained true to the republican principle that freedom and self- realization can only be achieved in the political community. (shrink)

Speakers address audiences in the earliest Greek literature, but oratory became a distinct genre in the late fifth century and reached its maturity in the fourth. This book traces the development of its techniques by examining the contribution made by each orator. Dr Usher makes the speeches come alive for the reader through an in-depth analysis of the problems of composition and the likely responses of contemporary audiences. His study differs from previous books in its recognition of the richness of (...) the early tradition which made innovation difficult; however, the orators are revealed as men of remarkable talent, versatility, and resource. Antiphon's pioneering role, Lysias' achievement of balance between the parts of the speech, the establishment of oratory as a medium of political thought by Demosthenes and Isocrates, and the individual characteristics of other orators - Andocides, Isaeus, Lycurgus, Hyperides, Dinarchus and Apollodorus - together make a fascinating study in evolution; while the illustrative texts of the orators include some of the liveliest and most moving passages in Greek literature. (shrink)

Speakers address audiences in the earliest Greek literature, but oratory became a distinct genre in the late fifth century and reached its maturity in the fourth. This book traces the development of its techniques by examining the contribution made by each orator. Dr Usher makes the speeches come alive for the reader through an in-depth analysis of the problems of composition and the likely responses of contemporary audiences. His study differs from previous books in its recognition of the richness of (...) the early tradition which made innovation difficult, however, the orators are revealed as men of remarkable talent, versatility, and resource. Antiphon's pioneering role, Lysias' achievement of balance between the parts of the speech, the establishment of oratory as a medium of political thought by Demosthenes and Isocrates, and the individual characteristics of other orators - Andocides, Isaeus, Lycurgus, Hyperides, Dinarchus and Apollodorus - together make a fascinating study in evolution; while the illustrative texts of the orators include some of the liveliest and most moving passages in Greek literature. (shrink)

This book discusses how Plato, one the fiercest legal critics in ancient Greece, became – in the longue durée – its most influential legislator. Making use of a vast scholarly literature, and offering original readings of a number of dialogues, it argues that the need for legal critique and the desire for legal permanence set the long arc of Plato’s corpus—from the Apology to the Laws. Modern philosophers and legal historians have tended to overlook the fact that Plato was the (...) most prolific legislator in ancient Greece. In the pages of his Republic and Laws, he drafted more than 700 statutes. This is more legal material than can be credited to the archetypal Greek legislators—Lycurgus, Draco, and Solon. The status of Plato’s laws is unique, since he composed them for purely hypothetical cities. And remarkably, he introduced this new genre by writing hard-hitting critiques of the Greek ideal of the sovereignty of law. Writing in the milieu in which immutable divine law vied for the first time with volatile democratic law, Plato rejected both sources of law, and sought to derive his laws from what he called ‘political technique’. At the core of this technique is the question of how the idea of justice relates to legal and institutional change. Filled with sharp observations and bold claims, Platonic Legislations shows that it is possible to see Plato—and our own legal culture—in a new light “In this provocative, intelligent, and elegant work D. L. Dusenbury has posed crucial questions not only as regards Plato’s thought in the making, but also as regards our contemporaneity.”—Giorgio Camassa, University of Udine “There is a tension in Greek law, and in Greek legal thinking, between an understanding of law as unchangeable and authoritative, and a recognition that formal rules are often insufficient for the interpretation of reality, and need to be constantly revised to match it. Dusenbury’s book illuminates the sophistication of Plato’s legal thought in its engagement with this tension, and explores the potential of Plato’s reflection for modern legal theory.”—Mirko Canevaro, The University of Edinburgh. (shrink)

Rousseau’s account of the “legislator” or “lawgiver” is commonly regarded as one of the most far-fetched, ominous, and baffling parts of his teaching in the Social Contract. In brief, Rousseau’s lawgiver seems to be a proto-totalitarian figure whose self-appointed mission is to found a political community by “denaturing” people at a single stroke and who may be a mere figment of Rousseau’s overheated imagination. Accordingly, this part of the Social Contract threatens to make a mockery of Rousseau’s claim to be (...) “taking men as they are and laws they can be,” as well as his claim that the combination of “ freedom and equality” is “the greatest good” in the civil state. Following and extending Rousseau’s own method of teaching by examples, however, this essay argues that Benjamin Franklin’s influence over the American republic—especially through his posthumous Autobiography—offers a prosaic example of the apparently fantastical phenomenon sketched by Rousseau. In fact, I argue that Franklin’s case corresponds more fully to Rousseau’s description than do any of Rousseau’s own examples (such as Moses, Lycurgus, and Numa) and that Franklin showed in practice what Rousseau suggested in theory: that a lawgiver can succeed without relying on coercion and without undercutting the equality that underlies a just society. Franklin’s denaturing influence, I suggest, has been crucial for the durability of republicanism in the United States, given the country’s size and diversity. (shrink)

In chapter 12 ofBirth of Tragedy, Nietzsche describes Socrates as the new Orpheus, who rises up against Dionysus and murders tragedy:… in league with Socrates, Euripides dared to be the herald of a new kind of artistic creation. If this caused the older tragedy to perish, then aesthetic Socratism is the murderous principle; but in so far as the fight was directed against the Dionysiac nature of the older art, we may identify Socrates as the opponent of Dionysos, the new (...) Orpheus who rises up against Dionysos and who, although fated to be torn apart by the maenads of the Athenian court of justice, nevertheless forces the great and mighty god himself to flee. As before, when he fled from Lycurgus, King of the Edonians, Dionysos now sought refuge in the depths of the sea, namely in the mystical waters of a secret cult which gradually spread across the entire world., 64. (shrink)

In the opinion of Aristotle and Plutarch the growth of latifundia and consequent decline of the citizen population at Sparta were due to the absence of restrictions on gifts and bequests of land. According to Plutarch this freedom of gift and bequest, so far as it applied to the κλροι or entailed estates, was introduced by the τρα of an ephor named Epitadeus, who removed the ban on gift and bequest imposed by Lycurgus.

The following is excerpted from Sean Gurd’s translation of Euripides’ Hippolytus published with Uitgeverij this year. Though he was judged “most tragic” in the generation after his death, though more copies and fragments of his plays have survived than of any other tragedian, and though his Orestes became the most widely performed tragedy in Greco-Roman Antiquity, during his lifetime his success was only moderate, and to him his career may have felt more like a failure. He was regularly selected to (...) have his plays performed in the annual festival of Dionysus at Athens. But the plays were performed in a competition, and in the competitions he lost and lost, winning first place only five times in a career that spanned more than forty years. His corpus reads like the remains of a life spent trying to get a few things right and never being quite satisfied: scenes and schematized combinations of elements recur again and again, each time slightly changed. Hippolytus itself is an example: it contains two scenes in which a sick or dying character lies on a couch or a stretcher and is surrounded by silence and grief; he had experimented with such scenes in Alcestis, and would work with them again in Herakles and Orestes. Nor, judging from appearances, was he immune to the desire to score a hit, or to satisfy the audiences and the judges at the competition. Hippolytus is a rewrite of another Hippolytus, performed several years earlier, which scandalized the audience and certainly did not take first place. In that earlier Hippolytus (called by later writers Hippolytus Veiled), Euripides fashioned a Phaedra who was neither ashamed of loving her stepson nor incapable of taking steps to satisfy her desire. The forwardness of her approach to Hippolytus so outraged him that he covered his head with a robe (hence the play’s later title). Euripides liked to write energetic and self-confident women like this. He staged his Medea in 431, just three years before he revised Hippolytus, and in it the jilted title character murders her children in revenge for Jason’s new marriage to a more politically advantageous wife. Another flop: the play came in third of three. Evidently the judges did not like their women showing agency, especially when the consequences were transgressive. “The ornament of women,” wrote another great Athenian a little earlier, “is silence.”i Euripides’ Medea and his first Phaedra had other decorations. So three years after Medea crashed and burned and some time after the first Hippolytus suffered the same fate, he produced another Hippolytus play with a different setting and story. How could this one not have been a reaction to the failure of the first? “Second thoughts are always better,” he has one of his characters say, as though he were offering an apology for his first thoughts on the same story. In this new version, Phaedra is suicidally ashamed of her love, choosing to die rather than have it discovered, and willing to bring down her beloved Hippolytus in the service of the same end. Now it is Phaedra herself who covers her head in shock and horror at her desire. Only an intermediary, a slave of the house and an old crone with her fingers in all sorts of illicit pots, communicates Phaedra’s secret – against orders – and in consequence brings about the demise of two resolutely moral figures. It worked. For his tale of two well-born nobles with an unswerving commitment to moral action, destroyed by the meddling of a slave (and by the hostility of some particularly uncaring divinities), the judges crowned Euripides winner. It was the first time he had won, after almost thirty years of work. *** What Hippolytus wants more than anything else, as he protests with outrage just before leaving Trozen for the last time, is the benefit of due process – oaths, witnesses, an investigation that would reveal who really lusted after whom. Ironic, given that in the first Hippolytus, as far as we can make out, he did get a trial – but too late, and Theseus’ successful processing of Hippolytus failed to prevent his death. I cannot help hearing in the second Hippolytus’ complaints the anger of his authorial semblable who lost year after year by a process of judging that might have seemed brutal to him. Judges took no cognizance of how he worked, how long or hard or why; they just voted, and Euripides lost. But then I hear, in the fate of the first Hippolytus, an even grimmer commentary. Processed or not, we lose. We run aground. At the very least, this might cast a darker shadow on the business of watching or reading a play: in that twilight, things move too fast to make a fair assessment and, in any case, the reasonably high definition of what you see and hear belies the truth of indistinction, the multiplicities just below the surface. Watching is a constrained activity, a form of captivity, but reading is plastic. This translation was begun to supply the script for an audio version of the play, recorded in the spring of 2012, and here and there it sacrifices literalness for sayability and the voices and passions of the actors on that occasion. But it was finished to be read, and engineered to create a reading caught between the poles of specificity and non-specificity that the play itself conjures and relies on at its generative core. Thus two texts: the one clear, perhaps overprecise, respectably modern in its presentation, and the other ancient, a reasonable approximation of the classical reading process, and indistinct in vital ways. Like early modern dramatic texts, the exact provenance and original function of the scripts that have made it down to us are unknown. We do know that the ultimate survival of Hippolytus was thanks to its wide-spread use as a school text. But its relation to the first performance in 428 BCE is a matter only of speculation. Euripides presumably had a fair copy before production began; it was probably modified during rehearsals. The actors may have had copies, too (probably the young men who served in the chorus did not). The chor?gos, a wealthy Athenian who paid for the production, might have been presented with or just made sure to get his hands on a high-quality text, to commemorate the play’s success. Fans might have been able to buy copies. Any one of these sources might have provided the ultimate progenitor of our text. Several of them might have, in fact, if later editors compared and conflated traditions. The plays toured extensively in the Greek-speaking world, and were restaged as repertoire for centuries afterwards. In the process they were subjected to enough modifications by producers and actors that in the later fourth century the Athenian statesman Lycurgus had a law passed prohibiting performances at Athens from deviating from the official “city” text of the tragedies (which he had commissioned). It is unlikely that the city text was the last word; but it marks an important moment in Athens’ role in their dissemination, since after this the major sites of textual curatorship moved overseas, to Alexandria, Pergamum, Rome, Antioch, Constantinople. Any single text of any single play is thus no more than a moment of clarity and stability, crossed and subtended by multiple vectors of change, including that of textual flux (from Euripides’ first drafts to the latest printed text) and that of Euripides’ life work as a writer, in the light of which the Hippolytus is just one attempt to produce something exactly right, to win the prize or finally satisfy himself or prove to himself that all this longing for perfection was a waste of time. I am intrigued by the possibility that a single text might somehow serve as a lens onto this wider zone of indistinction, representing a small region clearly but nonetheless containing a blurred image of the whole, like a Leibnizian monad. After all, no text is a witness: it is, rather, a perception and a performance, and what every Hippolytus must perform is the awkward overlay of singular and plural, social practise and subliminal drive, that structures the tragedy. Modern critical editions can do this by juxtaposing a (relatively) clean and simple text with a textual apparatus reporting variants and theorizing the relationship between textual instantiations. A translation lacks the resolution to catch the fine variations which feed into the construction of an apparatus. But there are other means to hand. Guessing at the exact words of the original text is always just that – guessing – though Hippolytus is less problematic than plays like Iphigenia at Aulis. But we can make a pretty secure guess at what such a text looked like. Texts read by fifth-century readers were fundamentally different from what is presented in the best medieval MSS and printed in modern publications. The texts of Euripides’ time and for many centuries afterwards did not indicate word division with spaces (or by any other means) and were extremely sparing in punctuation, often avoiding it altogether. There was only one “case” of letters – what we call “capitals.” Musical sections were inscribed as though they were prose, without line endings to reflect their rhythm or their rhetorical structure. There was no indication of the speakers within a dramatic text, either. The earliest surviving dramatic texts, which come from over a century after Euripides’ death and a time which was much more elaborate and precise in its textual culture, indicated speaker-change with a little line or paragraphos below the line and a double-point [:] at its end. This convention almost certainly does not date back to Euripides’ own time; it may not even date to Lycurgus. In any case, such indications were understood to be readers’ marks: they did not have the same authority as the text and they were subject to readers’ revisions. At least ideationally, if not in concrete and distinguishable fact, a dramatic text was understood as containing no indication of speaker-change (and certainly none of who was saying what). The reader had to figure that out for him-/herself. The clear, legible, easy texts we are accustomed to reading are the fabrications of medieval and modern reading cultures. The first text, then, presents the translation as the text would have been in the mid-fourth century, perhaps decades after Euripides’ death. The second text processes Hippolytus, makes sense of it and makes it “readable.” That is: too distinct, dangerously so. It gets in your way, conjures fantoms, tries to make you see. Fragments of the Hippolytus Veiled, otherwise almost entirely lost, are juxtaposed with similar passages in the text – not to suggest a reconstruction, but a dialogue and a complex set of reassessments. I have not tried to represent the full variety of textual variants, but I have signalled where, for one reason or another, the text is soft and different editions propose excisions or changes. The two texts must be read together: you, reader, form the bridge between the distinctly seen and the indistinct invisible. You, in the end, will be its mask. *** illsandhateddiseaseswhatcanidoforyouwhatshouldinotdohereisthelightandthebrightairyoursickbedisnowout s idethehouseyoureverywordwastocomeherebutyouwillrushbacktoyourbedroomagainyoufadequicklyyoudelig htinnothingyoudislikewhatyouhaveyoulovewhatyoudontitsbettertobesickthantendthesickthefirstissimpleto the secondattachesheartspainandhandsworkeveryhumanlifeispainfulthereisnoendtotoildarknesshidesbehindclo udswhateverisdearerthanlifeweproveunhappyloversofwhatshineshereforlackofknowledgeofanotherlifethere isnoproofforthingsbeneaththeearthonlystoriessustainus liftmybodystraightenmyheadthebondsofmylimbsareloosenedtakemyhandsandmypalearmsthishatistooheavy formyheadtoweartakeitoffspreadmyhairovermyshoulders couragechilddonttossandturnsoviolentlyyouwillbearyoursicknessmoreeasilywithpeaceandanoblemindallmort alssuffer aiaiiwanttodrinkpurewaterfromadewyspringiwanttoliebackandrestunderthetreesinsomegrassymeadowchildw hycrydontsaythesethingsnearthecrowdhurlingwordsmountedonmadness sendmetothemountainiwillgototheforestwherebeastkillingdogspressthespotteddeergodsilongtoshouttothedo gstoshootthethessalianjavelinpastmyblondhairtoholdthebarbeddartinmyhandwhythisanxietychildwhatdoyouc areabouthuntingwhydoyoulustforflowingspringstheresahillwithwaterjustnexttothetowerwecangetyouadrinkt h ereartemismistressofthesaltlakeandthecoursethunderingwithhorseshoovesiwishiwereonyourplainsbreakings t uds whythrowthesefrenziedwordsaboutjustnowyouweresettingoutforthemountaintohuntandnowyoulongforhorses onthewavelesssand thesethingsneedanoracletotellwhichgodreinsyouinanddrivesyoufromyoursenseschild whathaveidonehowfarhaveibeendrivenfromgoodthoughtsiwascrazyiwascursedbysomepowerpheupheualasn ursecovermyheadagainimashamedofwhativesaidcovermeatearmovesdownfrommyeyeanditembarrassesm eithurtstostraightenourmindanditisterribletobeinsanebesttodiebeforeyoubecomelucidagain illcoveryoubutwhenwilldeathcovermeimoldivelearnedalotmortalsshoulddrinkoffriendshipmoderatelynotfrom th edeepestmarrowofthesoulamindslovecharmsshouldbeeasytoundoorthrustawayortiemoretightlyitisaverydiffic ultweightforonesoultolaborovertwopeopleasiamwrackedbypainforhertoomuchdisciplinecausesmoreharmthan pleasureandwarswithhealthipraisetoomuchlessthannothinginexcessandthewiseagreewithme *** Scene 1 Enter Phaedra and the Nurse; the former is recumbent on a couch while the latter bustles about her with gestures that might be those of a caregiver or a guard. NURSE Ills and hated diseases! What can I do for you? What should I not do? Here is the light, and the bright air; your sick bed is now outside the house. Your every word was to come here, but you will rush back to your bedroom again. You fade quickly. You delight in nothing. You dislike what you have. You love what you don’t. It’s better to be sick than tend the sick – the first is simple. To the second attaches heart’s pain and hand’s work. Every human life is painful. There is no end to toil. Darkness hides behind clouds whatever is dearer than life. We prove unhappy lovers of what shines here for lack of knowledge of another life. There is no proof for things beneath the earth. Only stories sustain us. PHAEDRA Lift my body, straighten my head: the bonds of my limbs are loosened. Take my hands and my pale arms. This hat is too heavy for my head to wear. Take it off, spread my hair over my shoulders. NURSE Courage, child; don’t toss and turn so violently. You will bear your sickness more easily with peace and a noble mind. All mortals suffer. PHAEDRA Aiai. I want to drink pure water from a dewy spring. I want to lie back and rest under the trees in some grassy meadow. NURSE Child, why cry? Don’t say these things near the crowd, hurling words mounted on madness. PHAEDRA Send me to the mountain. I will go to the forest where beast-killing dogs press the spotted deer. Gods! I long to shout to the dogs, to shoot the Thessalian javelin past my blond hair, to hold the barbed dart in my hand. NURSE Why this anxiety, child? What do you care about hunting? Why do you lust for flowing springs? There’s a hill with water just next to the tower; we can get you a drink there. PHAEDRA Artemis, mistress of the salt lake and the course thundering with horse’s hooves: I wish I were on your plains breaking studs! NURSE Why throw these frenzied words about? Just now you were setting out for the mountain to hunt – and now you long for horses on the waveless sand. These things need an oracle to tell which god reins you in and drives you from your senses, child. PHAEDRA What have I done? How far have I been driven from good thoughts? I was crazy, I was cursed by some power. Pheu pheu. Alas. Nurse, cover my head again. I’m ashamed of what I’ve said. Cover me – a tear moves down from my eye and it embarrasses me. It hurts to straighten your mind and it is terrible to be insane. Best to die before you become lucid again. NURSE I’ll cover you. But when will death cover me? I’m old; I’ve learned a lot. Mortals should drink of friendship moderately, not from the deepest marrow of the soul. A mind’s love-charms should be easy to undo, or thrust away, or tie more tightly. It is a very difficult weight for one soul to labor over two people, as I am wracked by pain for her. Too much discipline causes more harm than pleasure and wars with health. I praise “too much” less than “nothing in excess,” and the wise agree with me. ***. (shrink)

A generation ago Moses Finley said that the councils and the assemblies in the Homeric poems were not genuine deliberative bodies but looser, less productive gatherings. Finley and others regarded these bodies as transitional, so that regular councils and assemblies appear only later, in systems like those identified with Lycurgus and Solon. In recent years scholars have returned to an older view that Homeric deliberative bodies were well enough organized to make decisions, even if leaders or dissenters could undermine (...) these decisions. Differences between councils, on the one hand, and assemblies, on the other, have not been prominent in this scholarship. The noteworthy exception is Fabian Schulz's 2011 dissertation on parallels between Homeric councils and the Spartan Gerousia, in which he draws several comparisons between βουλαί and ἀγοραί. (shrink)

In several studies on the interpretation of the term politeuma, Patrick Sänger argues that it has three basic meanings: ‘political act’, ‘citizenry’ or ‘active citizenry’, and ‘polity’ and thus ‘state’, sometimes having the connotation ‘constitution’. Although the interpretation of the word can be traced back at least to Aristotle, it is generally acknowledged that its basic meanings can be found as well in Hellenistic and Roman literature, sometimes even used side by side. Taking into account the epoch in which Plutarch (...) wrote his work and the wide chronological period that it covers, it can be expected that Plutarch might be a very illustrative guide for the use of the term politeuma. The word occurs in fact 75 times throughout his work. In most cases, it is used only once or twice in a single biography or in a piece of the Moralia. There are, however, three exceptions to this global pattern: the Lives of Lycurgus and Numa, which concentrate 12 occurrences; those of Agis/Cleomenes and Tiberius/Gaius Gracchus with 13; finally, and from the Moralia, the An seni respublica gerenda sit, with 5 passages. This paper discusses the way Plutarch combines text and context, namely the way the concept of politeuma works in the context in which it is used throughout the Lives and the Moralia. En varios estudios sobre la interpretación del término politeuma, Patrick Sänger sostiene que tiene tres significados básicos: a) “acto político”, b) “la ciudadanía” o conjunto de ciudadanos activos”, y c) “sistema de gobierno” y, por lo tanto, “estado”, muchas veces con la connotación de “constitución”. Aunque la interpretación de la palabra suele remontarse hasta Aristóteles, generalmente, se reconoce que sus significados básicos pueden hallarse también en las Literaturas Helenística y Romana, a veces, incluso utilizados uno junto a otro. Teniendo en cuenta la época en la que Plutarco escribió su obra y el vasto período de tiempo que abarca, podemos considerarlo una guía muy ilustrativa sobre el uso del término politeuma. La palabra se registra 75 veces a lo largo de su obra. En la mayoría de los casos se la utiliza sólo una o dos veces en alguna biografía individual dentro de Moralia. Sin embargo, hay tres excepciones a este patrón general: las Vitae de Licurgo y Numa, incluyendo la Comparatio, que concentran 12 ocurrencias, aquellas de Agis/Cleomenes y Tiberio/Cayo Graco con 13 y, finalmente, en An seni respublica gerenda sit dentro de Moralia, en 5 pasajes. En el presente artículo discutimos el modo en que Plutarco combina texto y contexto y cómo funciona el término politeuma según su contexto en las Vitae y en Moralia. (shrink)

Current scholarship all but unanimously depicts Plutarch as a straightforward Platonist. The Lives of Lycurgus and Numa in particular are regularly cited as evidence of Plutarch's adherence to Platonic political doctrines, because in both Lives Plutarch makes explicit reference to the 'best regime' of Plato's Republic. In this article, I question the consensus opinion through an examination of Plutarch's Lycurgus and Numa. I argue that far from unreflectively applying a Platonic paradigm, Plutarch develops a subtle critique of Plato's (...) best regime. Plutarch shows himself to be more sensitive to the political utility of honour and more wary of the benefits of 'philosopher-kings' than the Socrates of the Republic. I conclude by suggesting how the recognition of Plutarch's departure from Plato might influence one's general approach to the Parallel Lives. (shrink)

The authors deal with the classic paradox of ethical theories, “Hume’s guillotine,” based on the contradiction in morality between what is and what should be. At the same time, the theological justification of moral principles is beyond this criticism, because the sacred commandments “by definition” combine what is and what should be, overcoming the “secular” gap between being and duty, and thus “the problem of transition from description to evaluation is removed.” Modern ways of removing this contradiction, revealed by Hume, (...) are considered from several points of view. Special attention is paid to the analogy between the development of ethical and mathematical theories, a synergistic approach to the formation of ethics, as well as to the ethical choice associated with the development of digital reality, which humanity will face soon. A synergistic approach can be viewed as a bridge “over the abyss of two cultures - natural science and humanities.” Now it has become clear that there can be many logics, geometries, versions of analysis of infinitely small, etc. Ethics can also be constructed and then put into practice. A classic example is the ethical code of King Lycurgus. Separate ethical systems are not able to ensure the survival of humanity under extreme conditions. Existence of general ethical rules in global crises allows many to survive. Without them, everyone would die. True amazement is the fact that the eight Dyakonov phase transitions in human history completely coincide with the crises periodicity presented in the text of the Apocalypse, where crises are figuratively called “beasts.” Then a vivid picture is given, a picture of the civilization transformation into a post-singular state, which goes beyond the horizon of scientific forecast. (shrink)

It is well known from the sources that three Athenian factions were organized after Solon's reforms. Herodotus writes as follows: In the course of time there was a feud between the Athenians of the coast under Megacles son of Alcmeon and the Athenians of the plain under Lycurgus son of Aristolaides. Pisistratus then, having an eye to the sovereign power, raised up a third faction. He collected partisans and pretended to champion the hillmen.