Other tyrannies are equally resistant to general explanations, except by circularity of reasoning. The Corinthian tyranny has been treated first in the present section because its dates are secure. There is, however, a more shadowy figure, Pheidon of Argos, who may have a claim to be earlier still and who has also been invoked as an exemplification of the military factor in the earliest tyrannies. Unfortunately, one ancient writer, Pausanias, puts him in the 8th century, while Herodotus puts him in the 6th. Most modern scholars emend the text of Pausanias and reidentify Herodotus’s Pheidon as the grandson of the great man. This allows them to put Pheidon the tyrant in the 7th century and to associate him with a spectacular Argive defeat of Sparta at Hysiae in 669 bce. His success is then explained as the product of the newly available hoplite method of fighting. (The 8th-century suit of armour from Argos would in fact allow the connection between Pheidon and hoplites even without discarding Pausanias.)
Greek expansion (9th–6th centuries bc).Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc.
That construction assumes much that needs to be proved, and the hoplite theory is in fact being invoked in order to give substance to Pheidon rather than Pheidon lending independent support to the theory. It is a further cause for disquiet that some of the detail in the literary tradition about Pheidon is suspiciously suggestive of the 4th century; thus, Aristotle’s statement that Pheidon was a king who became a tyrant is strikingly appropriate for Philip II of Macedon, who built up his military autocracy from a hereditary base of a traditional sort and whose dynasty did in fact interestingly claim Argive origins and thus regarded Pheidon as an ancestor.
Two other tyrannies date securely from the 7th century and perhaps happened in imitation of Cypselus; both arose in states immediately adjoining Corinth. Theagenes of Megara makes an appearance in history for three reasons: he slaughtered the flocks of the rich (an action incomprehensible without more background information than is available); he tried about 630 to help his son-in-law Cylon to power at Athens; and he built a fountain house that can still be seen off the “Road of the Spring-House” in modern Megara. The last two items reveal something interesting about the social and cultural character of established tyrannies, but none of the three offers much support for the military or any other general theory of the cause of tyranny.
At Sicyon the Orthagorid tyranny, whose most splendid member was the early 6th-century Cleisthenes, may have exploited the anti-Dorianism already noted as a permanent constituent of the mentality of some Greeks; but since the relevant action—a renaming of tribes—falls in the time of Cleisthenes himself, it is no help with the problem of why the first Sicyonian tyrant came to power at all. In any case, the main object of Cleisthenes’s dislike seems to have been not Dorians in general but Argos in particular: the renaming is said to have been done to spite the Argives.
Notwithstanding the skepticism of what has been said above, some solid general points can be made about the tyrannies mentioned (Athens and Sparta followed peculiar paths of development and must be treated separately). First, those tyrannies have more in common than their roughly 7th-century dates: several of the most famous are situated around or near the Isthmus of Corinth. That surely suggests a partly geographic explanation; that is, there was an influx of new and subversive notions alongside the purely material goods that arrived at this central zone. Places with a more stagnant economic and social life, such as Boeotia and Thessaly, neither colonized nor experienced tyrannies. In fact, some version of Thucydides’ economic account of the rise of tyranny may be right, though there too (as with the origins of the city-state or the motives behind acts of colonization) one must be prepared to accept that different causes work for different states and to allow for the simple influence of fashion and contagion.
Reflection on the places that avoided tyrannies leads to the second general point. Another way of looking at tyranny is to concentrate on its rarity and seek explanations for that. After all, there were hundreds of Greek states, many of them extremely small, which, as far as is known, never had tyrannies. The suggested explanation is that in places with small populations there was enough scope for office holding by most of the city’s ambitious men to make it unnecessary for any of them to aspire to a tyranny. (One can add that certain places are known to have taken positive steps to ensure that regular office did not become a stepping-stone to tyranny. For example, a very early constitutional inscription shows that 7th-century Drerus on Crete prohibited tenure of the office of kosmos—a local magistracy—until 10 years had elapsed since a man’s last tenure.) That is a refreshing approach and surely contains some truth. Nonetheless, the qualification “as far as is known” is important: with regard to many places there is no better reason for saying that they avoided tyranny than for saying that they had it. Moreover, the view that tyranny was widespread may indeed be a misconception, although, if so, it was an ancient one: Thucydides himself says that tyrannies were established in many places. Finally, the psychological argument from satisfaction of ambition is only partly compelling: it was surely more rewarding in every way to be a tyrant than to be a Dreran kosmos. Sparta and Athens Sparta The distinctiveness of Sparta
Prominent among the states that never experienced tyranny was Sparta, a fact remarked on even in antiquity. It was exceptional in that and in many other respects, some of which have already been noted: it sent out few colonies, only to Taras (Tarentum, in southern Italy) in the 8th century and—in the prehistoric period—to the Aegean islands of Thera and Melos. It was unfortified and never fully synoecized in the physical sense. And it succeeded, exceptionally among Greek states, in subduing a comparably sized neighbour by force and holding it down for centuries. The neighbour was Messenia, which lost its independence to Sparta in the 8th century and did not regain it until the 360s. It was the Messenian factor above all that determined the peculiar development of Sparta, because it forced Spartans to adjust their institutions to deal with a permanently hostile subject population.
Despite Sparta’s military prominence among Greek states, which is the primary fact about it, Sparta’s development is especially difficult to trace. That is so partly because there are few Archaic or Classical Spartan inscriptions. Even more important, there is very little genuine Spartan history written by Spartans (there was no Spartan Herodotus or Thucydides, though both men were deeply fascinated by Sparta, as indeed were most Greeks). And partly it is so because—a related point—“invented tradition” had been particularly active at Sparta. As early as the 5th century one finds “laconizers” in other states (the word derives from “Laconia,” the name for the Spartan state, or Lacedaemon, and signifies cultural admiration for Sparta and its institutions).
The Spartan tradition in European thought can be traced through the centuries up to modern times, though it has never amounted to a single easily definable set of ideas. In the intellectual world of the 4th century bce, when many of the most significant myths about Sparta seem to have been concocted, Sparta, chiefly under the influence of idealist philosophers seeking some solution to civic disorder, was virtually turned into a shorthand expression for a pure community free from stasis (internal dissension and fighting) with equality of land ownership and other utopian features that never existed in the historical Sparta or anywhere else. In the Roman period Sparta had become a tourist attraction, a place of uncouth, half-invented rituals. This was also the period when Sparta the living legend consciously traded on and exported fantasies about its great past (in the Hellenistic First Book of Maccabees one even finds the idea seriously put forward that the Jews and Spartans were somehow kin). If more is said about Athens than about Sparta in the present section, that is not because Athens was intrinsically more important but because the amount of usable evidence about it is incomparably greater.