Peter Funke and Nino Luraghi, editors, The Politics of Ethnicity and the Crisis of the Peloponnesian League
I. Peter Funke, Between Mantinea and Leuctra: The Political World of the Peloponnese in a Time of Upheaval
II. Klaus Freitag, Achaea and the Peloponnese in the Late Fifth-Early Fourth Centuries
III. James Roy, Elis
IV. Claudia Ruggeri, Triphylia from Elis to Arcadia
V. Maurizio Giangiulio, The Emergence of Pisatis
VI. Maria Pretzler, Arcadia: Ethnicity and Politics in the Fifth and Fourth Centuries BCE
VII. Nino Luraghi, Messenian Ethnicity and the Free Messenians
VIII. Eric Robinson, Ethnicity and Democracy in the Peloponnese, 401–362 BCE
IX. Catherine Morgan, The Archaeology of Ethnê and Ethnicity in the Fourth-Century Peloponnese
X. Robert Parker, Subjection, Synoecism and Religious Life
XI. Christoph Ulf, The Development of Greek Ethnê and their Ethnicity: An Anthropological Perspective
XI. The Development of Greek Ethnê and their Ethnicity: An Anthropological Perspective
Standard definitions of koinon/league have been, and often still are, based on the assumption of the existence of units that defined themselves in ethnic terms (ethnê), which extend far back in time. This tendency is connected with the conviction that all human communities are “ethnic” in that they are founded on biological kinship “from the beginning onwards.” Their cultural as well as political cohesion is seen to derive from this biological relationship. This opinion is not abandoned even when one sees not clans or kinship-based states, but the oikoi as the smaller units out of which early Greek communities are supposed to have grown. In both views, the ethnê coexist with the polis. They are viewed as the older political structure, which emerged in an entirely natural manner from the fact of biological relatedness.  The foundations of this theory have been seriously shaken in recent times.
The first argument against it runs as follows: there is no such thing as a pre-existing Greek identity; rather, it first began to take shape slowly during the Greek Archaic period. This argument finds important backing in the archaeological record, which demonstrates strong regional variation. This line of reasoning is also supported by the fact that the picture of a league (koinon) based on an ethnic foundation originates in a specific period of modern scholarship and bears the hallmarks of projection more than those of scientific analysis. 
The second argument consists in the application of the model of ethno-genesis, which was developed by scholars of the Middle Ages. According to this model, ethnic units (e.g. peoples, clans) are by no means “natural” institutions, but rather emerge only under specific historical circumstances. To this process of emergence belongs also the (later) construction of a common ethnic origin. 
If one accepts the validity of both arguments, then the question is: What are the reasons or motivations for the consolidation of such units? If it is possible to find an answer to that question, then—one must assume—it must also be possible to find plausible reasons for the development of ethnê and their change over time. This conclusion is based on the assumption that the group which appears to be a primordial ethnic unit is in reality only the outcome of a specific form of cohesion within or between socio-political groups. Such a unit does not exist a priori but has to be generated, and is inherently unstable. It presents itself as an ethnic group, and is indicated by the term “ethnicity.”  If the elements of human behavior and thought that produce or encourage cohesion can be isolated, then the track leading to ethnicity may also be found.
To this end, the present paper has chosen the path of isolating those elements which foster cohesion within and between groups in anthropologically or ethnologically observable societies. This approach proceeds from the conviction that it is possible to construct an analogy between the Greek worlds of the Archaic and Classical periods and ethnological contexts, at least in the sense that the latter provide a useful foil for the ancient processes. 
Ethnological Case Studies: Forms of Alliance
The division of forms of human society into “band society,” “local society,” and “regional polity” provides the point of departure for the following reflections. While the authors of this classification of human societies conceive of this differentiation in evolutionary terms, it can nonetheless be interpreted in functional terms.  In the following discussion, only the essential factors which give rise to cohesion within and between groups will be briefly treated. Three well-examined examples from the anthropological literature will be introduced briefly, and afterwards those elements which appear applicable to the assessment of cohesion and dispersion in the Greek ethnê will be isolated from these examples.
“Band societies” are characterized by a high degree of autonomy of families and kinship groups. This is illustrated in the diagram:
Figure 1. !Kun San. (F= family)
A look at these “family groups” is relevant because the cohesion between them, present only to a limited extent, is reflected in the form of kinship that characterizes it. The individual families are bound to each other through a cognatic kinship system. This provides the opportunity to build up social relationships in all directions, but precisely on account of this openness the relationships remain comparatively weak. Indeed, the groups live alone for the most part, and only in extraordinary circumstances and for a short time does more than one group live in the same place.
Societies categorized as “local groups” or “village societies” behave differently, as two examples show.
The Tsembaga Maring, who live in New Guinea, form one part of altogether some 7000 Maring-speaking Papua. The economic conditions are precarious. They live in a mountainous region of New Guinea’s central highlands, cut off from the outside. Their pattern of settlement is characterized by a cycle of aggregation and dispersion. On account of the limited resources, the latent threat of warlike conflicts is present, even if it comes to out-and-out war infrequently. In times of peace, interrelated families live together in hamlets. Whenever war draws near, outbreaks of which are cyclical in nature, the families emigrate to village-like settlements surrounding the traditional ceremonial place of their clan. The families of the clan are closely bound to each other through patrilinear kinship and support each other intensively. The sense of community is visibly expressed by the participation in collective cults. Nonetheless, the bounds of the clan, defined through kinship, are not rigid. Not only individuals, through marriage, but even entire families can be accepted into the clan.
Every clan has at its disposal its own territory, and each family lays claim to a part of it. Moreover, the clan has its own house, where magical objects are kept. When periodic outbreaks of war threaten, at intervals of five to twenty years, the clan-territory is marked off with fences. In war the clan fights as a single combat unit, led by its own ritual chieftain.
The clan interacts with other clans on ceremonial occasions, especially in the kaiko ceremony, which stands in close connection to cyclical war.  In this ceremony, which extends over a long period of time, a complex process of public exchange of prestige goods (pigs, jewelry) between families and clans takes place. On account of its success in these processes of exchange, which are undertaken in competition, a clan can become so attractive to others that they attach themselves to it. The competition that exists between the clans thus has the goal of strengthening the cohesion of the clans, which are otherwise independent. This intensified cohesion is necessary in order to withstand successfully the conflict that follows the ceremony.
In this way—engineered and strengthened by exogamous marriages and reciprocal relationships among members of different clans—numerous clusters of clans are formed. Such a clan cluster assumes in fact the position of a local group, although it remains “pre-institutional”  : it does not have its own name, its own leader, or its own ceremonial house.
Figure 2. Tsembaga Maring (New Guinea). (H = hamlet; V = village)
The Enga, who also live in New Guinea, represent another form of socio-political cohesion. They practice intensive agriculture (especially sweet potatoes and yams) in the river valleys of the mountainous region west of Mount Hagen, which are free from the rainforest, but they also cultivate regions of various heights above sea level. Artificial fertilization with compost allows for the constant production of foodstuffs. Since the game animals have been hunted nearly to extinction, the need for protein and fat is satisfied through the energy-intensive breeding of pigs. In addition, stone axes and salt are bartered, as well as prestige goods. The hypothetical population density of 33 to 97 people per square kilometer corresponds to the population density sometimes postulated for Greece in the Dark Ages.
Families live in hamlets, with one house for the men and several for the women in the immediate area of their fields. Each family belongs to a clan-segment, which is determined either by patrilineage or by the somewhat larger sub-clan. Each patrilinear group is named after its progenitor. The sub-clan defines itself by the fictive relationship with a son of the clan’s founder. The dance area and the cultic grove form its center. Important external exchange practices are transacted by the sub-clan, as well as matters of public interest (for example, bride-giving), and the compensation payments for those fallen in war are settled. Each sub-clan is led by one man, whose ambition it is to become the leader of the clan and thereby a “big man.” Since in this case the status of the sub-clan is enhanced, it is in everyone’s interest to increase agricultural productivity. This can be done through raising the work-load of every individual. To this end, the sub-clan leader who aspires to become a “big man” strives to conclude several marriages, because in this way he gains access to a larger productive base. Raising productivity is then the prerequisite for being able to make exchange relationships which are socially successful, that is, based on generosity. These in turn are the prerequisite for rising to the role of “big man.” For this reason, constant competition reigns between the sub-clans.
The clan makes use of a territory which is clearly marked off by a fence. Outside of this territory there is the danger of being attacked. The clan is connected to a fictive founder-ancestor. It is visibly defined, as are the sub-clans, by its own dance area, as well as by the ancestral cult house. Here is the center, where the essential rituals are conducted, those which establish a common identity, and where the ceremonial exchanges with other clans also take place. The clan is the largest group which appears as a unit at these types of ceremonies and in war. The “big men” are in this connection the driving force in the creation of an “intergroup collectivity.” They have to have at their disposal three capabilities: they must possess an exceptional individual working capacity, they must be extraordinary speakers (with an excellent memory for the various kin relationships and for all earlier collective actions), and they must be superior military commanders.
The same mechanism ensures success here as within the sub-clan. Pressure can be and is exerted on individuals who try to eschew the increased work-load. The outcome of this situation is competition between the clans in the production of goods, which can be presented, mainly at celebrations, as proof of their own excellence and strength. Successful clans tend to become larger, through influx from other clans and—following that—through increased rates of reproduction. The increase of the population promises greater chances of success in war, which threatens in short intervals, every two to three years, on account of the limited area of land available, but it also necessitates intensification of production. Occasion for the conflicts frequently consists of theft of small animals (pigs) and objects of value.
Among the collective ceremonies, the extensive and complex so called “tee ceremony” is of especial significance, because it is the most important medium for the formation of alliances between clans. It consists of a cyclical competition of exchange between clans. The regional exchange from clan to clan, which takes place in a predetermined order and in public, is organized by the “big men.”  In the course of the ceremony one’s exchange partner should be outdone, in order to make him dependent on oneself. This dependence can then be turned into an obligation of support in the case of war.
Thus there exist numerous levels of socio-political solidarity within Enga society. Clan segments and clans represent firm units, formed according to rules that can be recalled, which are supposed to guarantee the successful production of goods above all else. The political level above the clans exists only in the form of agreements based on the principles of gift economy. It requires institutionalized procedures in order to be accomplished, but can also be rescinded by means of those same procedures. The reason to form them consists of the constant threat of war at short notice.
Figure 3. Enga (New Guinea). (H = hamlet)
The “regional polity,” represented by the Trobriand Islanders, contrasts with these forms of “local groups,” not least on account of its distinct type of cohesion. The Trobriands live in small villages, each led by its own leader (head man). He distributes the land afresh every year to the inhabitants of the village. He is the owner of the sacred objects, which are regarded as essential to the success of agriculture. He initiates the ceremonies at the dance area of the village.
The villages are consolidated into local groups. The links between the villages are maintained through many processes of exchange on the occasion of various celebrations. Thus reciprocal support is assured and the standing ban on warfare between them established. The villages bound together into such a local group stand in a hierarchical relation to each other. The leader of the village with the greatest prestige also holds the leadership of the entire local group. Since the hierarchy of the villages is unalterable, and the leaders inside the villages can come only from certain families, the system includes features of inheritability. In order to fulfill his obligations, the leader marries several women from various villages and then exerts pressure on his in-laws to support him constantly with goods. On ceremonial occasions, he can employ these goods for display and for exchange. In this way a tributary relationship is produced between the leader and the other inhabitants of the villages. Thereby this paramount leader achieves the social status of a “chief.” This change in status is mirrored, in turn, by the largely fictitious genealogy which incorporates all the villages within a local group and their leaders’ families. For chiefs are set on the top of such genealogies, which are flexible and always illustrate contemporary political relationships.
In one region, several such local groups exist alongside each other. An additional level of cohesion is created above them in the form of a regional unity. The leaders of regional units are selected in the competition which reigns constantly between the leaders of local units. It consists especially of the demonstration of extraordinary economic power and the resulting possibility of the leader’s generosity. In order to ensure his success, a chief does not build only on the support of his villages or relations. As chief, he also organizes a far-ranging long-distance trade (the kula trade). In order to do so, he must become involved in a complex pre-existing system of exchange, for which a sufficient number of prestige goods is the prerequisite. The chief’s involvement in the kula trade secures privileges for him: clothing and jewelry reserved for him as chief, a special warehouse for his supplies, “magicians” working for him to guarantee the fertility of agriculture, especially the cultivation of yams. These privileges function simultaneously as an ideologically effective safeguard of his position. If by all these means a chief is able to secure a position which appears institutionalized vis-à-vis the other big men in his regional unit, he can nevertheless also be deposed in the case of manifest failure. On the ideological level this is reflected immediately, insofar as new realities are accommodated without difficulty in the flexible and, as far as the hierarchy is concerned, fictitious genealogical system.
Figure 4. The Trobriand Islanders. (V = village)
Means of Creating Local and Regional Cohesion
In order to be able to draw plausible conclusions for the Greek situation from the case studies briefly described above, it is necessary to sum up their constituent features.
The loose social bonds characteristic of “band societies” correspond to the cognatic system, the widest-ranging way of constructing kinship. The ties which arise out of the cognatic system of relationships and are based on reciprocity are sufficient for overcoming economic and “political” problems. Unlike “band societies,” “local group societies” and the societies characterized as “regional polities” live inside the same region in close proximity to each other. The population density is problematically high in comparison to the available resources. The supply of resources cannot simply be increased, since the trade of subsistence goods is only possible to a limited extent.
The limited availability of resources is linked to the tendency not to concentrate in larger settlements, but rather to erect dwellings in the area of the territories to be cultivated. Two factors counteract this tendency. If there is increased pressure to store subsistence goods, or it becomes necessary to gather together against external enemies, then the individual settlements are given up in favor of a central settlement. If this pressure abates, then the central settlement dissolves again. If the pressure does not remain constantly at the same level, then the reaction can be a cycle of aggregation and dispersion. The absence of a consistent settlement center mirrors the absence of a central decision-making authority extending over all the components of the society. The necessary higher cohesion is produced through a unilinear, mainly patrilinear kinship system.  In this type of kinship it is possible to construct the sort of genealogies through which socially and politically necessary links and dependencies can be formulated and established.
It seems that political forms of identity require a local point of reference. This receives its attractive quality through symbols of togetherness which are centered here and ideologically enhanced, and which are bound up with the ceremonies and celebrations held here. Celebrations or celebratory meals can be put on with the most varied of intentions. Brian Hayden, who has provided the most comprehensive systematic analysis thus far, differentiates between “diacritical feasts, economic feasts, and alliance and co-operation feasts.” Only in the latter case are solidarity, reciprocal relationships, and political and/or economic support the goals to be attained.  On these occasions a more or less privileged representative of the group (head man, big man, chief) always appears in the foreground. This is one of the most important occasions on which he can and must display those qualities of his which are necessary for the group’s cohesion.
The quality of the leader that is displayed in competition—and thereby also that of his group—is an important means by which successfully to control the pressure which weighs heavily on the groups. For this reason there are attempts to strengthen the group through co-operation. To enter relationships that take precedence over the socio-political unit(s) to which one already belongs means the surrender of a part of one’s own decision-making freedom. Therefore the step to production of an “intergroup collectivity” in the form of a clan, a “clan cluster,” or an alliance necessitates not only pressure, but also the possibility of perceiving this pressure as an incentive. Limited economic resources and the resulting danger of warlike conflicts produce pressure. So the incentive consists of the chance either to avoid both through the enlargement of the group, or at least to be able to withstand a difficult situation successfully.
However, in the same way as there is an inherent tendency in larger settlements to dissolve, so there also exists a tendency to enter into alliances between groups only when there is an unambiguous—economic or military—necessity. As a result, while alliances that span socio-political units can certainly be called up in case of need, they nonetheless always remain—if a fixed institutional-legal framework is absent—more or less fragile. This applies to the construction of clusters of clans recognizable in the examples as much as to the temporary and non-institutional alliances between clans.
If one observes these societies from the outside, then it appears that the measure of success is doubtless connected to the degree of organizational tightness. In an evolutionarily-oriented view of human societies, a higher tightness of organization is always linked to a hierarchization, in the sense of stratification or classification by rank. However, the functional interpretation of the various human societies suggested above allows for the possibility that there may be arrangements other than hierarchy capable of producing and guaranteeing the systematic coherence necessary for successful cooperation.
In the “regional polity” as represented by the Trobriand Islanders, the path that leads to hierarchy is documented. The stability of the society is attained not by the introduction of a political level in the narrow sense, but unmistakably by the solidification of influence on the various levels of social solidarity. Here, leadership inside the village community tends to become hereditary. Tributary dependencies develop between the leader of the local group and the village communities that comprise it. The chiefs of the regional unit obtain the resources they need for competition with the other chiefs from the dependence of the leaders of the local groups, but also through the increase of dependencies achievable through marriage to women from local groups belonging to other regional units. Furthermore, the relationships and dependencies are secured on the ideological level through a comprehensive genealogy that takes on a new quality. Since kinship is conceived of taxonomically rather than biologically, the genealogy can confirm the existing network of relationships as much as it can be easily adjusted to suit changing realities. The combination of a tendency to inheritability with a consciously imposed, ideologically usable kinship system offers the possibility of binding social units firmly, and thereby shifts the scope of activity of such chiefs, in comparison to “big men,” towards the sort of institutionalized decision-making and leadership which may be termed “political.” 
The possibility of attaining a higher degree of organization that stands in opposition to hierarchization is reflected in the system of the Enga. Here, pressure caused by economic problems and expressing itself in the threat of violence is constantly present to a greater extent than it is with the Tsembaga Maring. But it is never countered with the installation of a fixed hierarchy, but rather solely by alliances that are constantly formed anew. Carole Crumley has construed such relationships as consciously contrary to hierarchical ones and designated them by the term “heterarchy.” In such systems, which are no less complex, numerous groups can coexist alongside each other on the same level. Thereby it becomes possible to construct an overarching identity without the necessity of subordinating certain groups to other ones.  Of course this “political,” i.e. overarching, identity must remain relatively unstable in such a system. But it is precisely this instability that guarantees the possibility of adapting to changing conditions—with the result that such societies can change back and forth from hierarchical to heterarchical forms.
In the case of the Tsembaga Maring, this flexibility is reflected in the fact that the ritual leader is activated, as it were, for the duration of the war, but he is entitled to no real powers, only symbolic ones. The location where the festivals supporting cohesion take place is also furnished with a significant symbol of togetherness in the form of the house of the ancestors. Further, the festivals are organized with an extensive program of ceremonial events (the kaiko ceremony, the tee ceremony) so that all subgroups can be included, but also so that they can operate flexibly towards the outside. The resulting alliances are not secured through any institutional foundations. Thus, in the final analysis, how the field of relationships turns out above the level of the clan depends on the quality of the accomplishments of the leaders and their groups. Since this quality can always change in this environment of constant competition—for example, because of the improved performance of a competitor—these connections must remain labile.
The model of heterarchy not only directs attention to the fact that the constructs which impart identity to the local groups and the “regional polity” do not demonstrate primordial “ethnicity,” but also indicates that the societies themselves are the engineers of ethnicity with the help of more or less articulated genealogies.
Greek Societies in the Dark Ages and the Archaic Period
None of the case studies mentioned above, nor any other ethnological case study, is to be employed as a direct analogy for Greek relationships. Yet it can be assumed that basic elements abstracted from the case studies and patterns of thought and behavior in socio-political life were also constituent parts of the Greek societies. The plausibility of this assumption has been confirmed by many recent interpretations of the literary sources.  The applicability of this model to the constantly growing body of archaeological evidence from the Dark Ages and the Archaic Period is confirmed by the critical synopsis of the current state of research recently provided by Catherine Morgan.  For our purposes it can be reduced to the following points.
1. There is no significant difference to be seen between the settlements traditionally regarded as poleis, such as Argos, Corinth, or Megara, and other settlements, such as, for example, Pherai or Aigion, which are not counted as poleis. The elements brought up as characteristic of a polis can also be found in other settlements. The type of identity that is supposed to bond the inhabitants in poleis to each other seems not to have been a phenomenon specific to poleis, but rather a general phenomenon of all political communities since the eighth century. 
2. The units that are generally designated as ethnê are not natural or cultural units existing a priori. Moreover, the characteristics of the individual Greek “landscapes” are quite variable.  Morgan refers to the pronounced landscape profile. Single regions show distinct patterns of settlement and also were not settled in the same way at all times and in all their parts. Also, the settlement duration was not the same everywhere.  Further, the idea that an “ethnos-landscape” was poor involves obvious reductionism which does not do justice to the real ecological factors. Considering these factors, it has to be recognized that the relationship between a settlement and its hinterland cannot simply be described according to a single model, and that the various forms of societies and settlements cannot be understood with simple models, such as “simple progression from tribal to federal to polis organization” or even with the more complex “central place theory.” 
3. The assumption of a fixed connection between a given ethnos and a landscape is undermined by the essential fact that no region has demonstrated clear borders “from the beginning onwards;” these borders were first drawn parallel to the rise of regional units such as those in Phocis, Locris, Achaea, and also Arcadia. 
4. Considering the variety of settlement forms and the absence of regional delimitation, we have to reckon with many sub-regional groupings with different identities. These are recognizable, among other things, in that “ancestry was in some way incorporated into expressions of status and/or group identity in the mortuary record.”  However, the relationships in which these identities stood to one another could be very complex. Morgan speaks of “nested tiers of identities” and of “different tiers of political relationships across the landscape.”  The nature of this complexity can be concretized to a certain degree and at least partially described as “overlapping, rather than nested relations.” 
5. Doubtless cooperation was necessary in order to build and maintain drainage systems or roads shared by several settlements. Moreover, the landscape profile imposed the necessity of an exchange of goods and of transhumance;  both presuppose the cooperation of several groups.
In regions such as the Gulf of Corinth, where communication over the sea is easily possible, there exists the likelihood of a reflective perception of self and other. This can result in cooperation but also in exclusion. Morgan sketches the diversity of such relationships as “complex interconnections of skills, specialization in particular kinds of vessel, access to raw materials and facilities like kilns, mobility of craftsmen, the location of markets and the mechanisms of exchange of finished products.” 
6. As a primary motivation behind such co-operative relationships, a problem which is named directly in (for example) the Homeric epics can be surmised: hunger, which drives people to steal cattle from their neighbors or to plunder strangers far away.  The literary examples do not mention only peaceful cooperation. If a solution to this problem is sought with violence, then cooperation is also necessary, but now in the form that one prepares for war through a closer alliance and/or the search for new partners. In this context, Morgan refers to, among other examples, the latent enmity between Sparta and Tegea, the pressure exerted by Thessaly on Phocis, or the expansion of the Achaean coastal states onto the opposite Aetolia coast. Such a situation leads to the strengthening of internal cohesion, to control of the territory and to demarcation of the borders. 
7. The local and regional sanctuaries functioned as places of exchange, both profane and sacred. The search for partners is documented in the comparatively early “elaborate material display,” according to Morgan. Such a conclusion is suggested by the well-known fact that “cross-border connections” are produced through the giving of prestige goods. In this way relationships between guests were also created.  Besides the wandering artisans, fixed workshops are sometimes documented in the shrines; because of this they also became economically attractive centers. 
8. The complex networks which were formed on the basis of various identities and which consisted of cooperation, exchange and obligation, marked the borders of a “region.” Since the number and appearance of the participants in such networks changed, the ideologies that developed to reinforce their cohesion, as represented by cults and myths, also had to be flexible. They are “open to constant revision and reappraisal.” The analyses, repeatedly undertaken in recent times, of “Greek” genealogies and stories about the migrations of ethnic units, come unequivocally to this conclusion. 
This picture of ethnicities emerging from a development which is slow, and does not progress in a linear fashion at all, is consistent with the fact that ethnicity can be demonstrated only late: for example, at the end of the sixth century for Arcadia, only after the Persian Wars for Phocis, at the end of the fifth century for Achaea. It also fits into this picture that ethnicity changes and can even disappear altogether. As an example of this, Morgan names the small regions (“marginal areas”), in which no settlement takes shape as a center, such as the valley of the Spercheios in Thessaly or in the valley of Pharai in Achaea; these examples are supplemented by the Azanes, who were known to the authors of the fifth century only as an entity that had existed in the past. 
In this synopsis based on Morgan, primarily of the archaeological material, it remains an open question how contact and co-operation within and between various groups emerged, and how it operated in practice. However, if results gained primarily from archaeological material are linked to the ethnological analogies, then a hypothesis, at least, may justifiably be formulated as to how this activity may have arisen. Small family groups, kinship, status competition in the framework of a gift economy and the development of networks; a distinctly ideologically colored linking of groups with the help of display behavior, communal feasts supported by religion, and the formulation of flexible genealogies; finally, too, informal alliances, produced by all these means: there is nothing to prevent our seeing all these elements operating in the Greek societies as well. 
At the outset it was intentionally indicated that the goal is not to discover a direct analogy, but only to point out important elements of thought and action out of which ethnic units can be built. The reason for this lies not least in the fact that the Greek societies in the first half of the first millennium in Greece and on the Mediterranean seaboard were in no way isolated, as the archaeological record has already demonstrated in many cases. It is therefore to be expected that traditions of oriental and Egyptian origin had already begun to affect these Greek societies in the Dark Ages.  Moreover, the Greek societies developed in a cultural environment which was not available to the ethnological societies, an environment that included, in particular, the systematic intellectual conceptualization of the world,  which was in essence also based on genealogies (such as Hesiod’s Theogony), and the process by which legal systems came to dominate important aspects of life, as can be seen not only in the earliest laws, but also in the use of contracts.  To explicate the process of Greek ethnicization, therefore, demands the consideration of both factors mentioned: the ethnologically documented elements in the formation of ethnic units and the influences stemming from oriental cultures.
Ethnicization on a Super-Regional Level: Dorians and Ionians
Within this complicated topography of diverse societies, political models and divergent influences, the origin of the large units of the Dorians and Ionians, understood as ethnic, is to be re-defined. They can no longer be posited as the sub-units of a primary ethnic unit of “the Greeks.” Also, they must be reconsidered from the perspective of their function. This places the connection between the Dorians and the Peloponnesian League, and between the Delian-Attic League and the Ionians, at the center of attention.
The sources point only a few spotlights on the history of the so-called Peloponnesian League. Nevertheless, it is easy to recognize that the attempt to produce a large super-regional alliance of the “Lacedaemonians and their allies” was advanced on three fronts: by violence, by the signing of agreements, and on the ideological level by means of genealogy.  Dorian ethnicity was derived from the construction of a densely-branching and expansive tree of migratory and genealogical connections. Yet within this structure Sparta, as the leader of the Peloponnesian League, was never rigidly bound to a Dorian ethnicity. Only in the second half of the fifth century does this notion seem to dominate. But it remained perpetually in competition with the assertion of the Achaean origin of the Spartans. 
This competitive relationship was possible because “Dorian” was not a stably defined concept from the beginning, under which the Lacedaemonians are to be subsumed next to other groupings. Among the few sources concerning the Dorians, this is shown by the paratactic stringing of Ionians, Aeolians, Dorians and Lacedaemonians in Herodotus. This parallelization of Lacedaemonians and Dorians is all the more noteworthy because in the second half of the seventh century, in the work of Tyrtaeus, one finds neither the names of the Spartan tribes connected with the Heraclids, nor the Lacedaemonians and Spartans equated to the Dorians.  It is no less meaningful that the Heraclids are directly linked with the Dorians only in Thucydides at the end of the fifth century. For in the first half of the fifth century, Pindar had to argue that the Lacedaemonians—not the Spartans!—were Dorians: the Heraclids had established themselves in Amyclae as neighbors of the Tyndarids, who resided in Sparta; Aigimios, together with Hyllos, the son of Heracles, had led the Dorians first to Aigina and then to the Peloponnese.  First and only in Thucydides is the area of Doris, unknown before Herodotus, linked directly to the Lacedaemonians as their metropolis.  The fragility of the Spartan—Dorian connection is again confirmed in that no trace of it is found in the time after Thucydides, in Xenophon or Strabo.
It is evident that the integration of the Lacedaemonians, including the Spartans, into the large unit of the Dorians is an attempt to lay claim to the leadership among all those who were reckoned to be Dorians. The line of argument built on a common ethnicity can nonetheless change into its opposite. For the incorporation of Sparta into the unit of the Dorians could only be achieved with the help of a genealogical construction. The Spartans had to be integrated into the genealogy on the same level as the other Dorian tribes. From that follows a reduced claim to the right of leadership, for this type of genealogical construction can also easily be interpreted heterarchically. On the other hand, if the genealogical position were changed such that no direct common descent could be inferred, then the Spartans would gain a greater independence vis-à-vis the Dorians. It is surely for this reason that the other genealogical derivation, the descent of the Spartan kings from Achaean roots, remained constantly present. It is documented in the transfer of the bones of Orestes, the derivation of the Spartan kings from Perseus, and in Cleomenes I’s claim to be Achaean, not Dorian. 
The common intention of these genealogical derivations is to produce an ethnic commonality that reaches far back. Of course, such genealogies must not be confused with historical knowledge about the fate of an ethnic unit. On the contrary, they are easy to identify as a part of the process which is referred to as ethnogenesis. This occurs when the notional possession of a common ethnic history is advanced for the purpose of constructing a political unit.  Modern historical analysis has overlooked this intention for a long time and therefore has itself portrayed “a flawed modern construct” in the form of an ethnic unit of the Dorians.  If, as demonstrated in this volume by Peter Funke, the Peloponnesian League—not least because of its expansion across numerous regions—was a very complex unit and gains clearer contours only in the sixth century,  then one reason for that is exactly the missing ethnic homogeneity.
The “history” of the Ionians, which is bound up with the Delian-Attic League, is no less complex than that of the Dorians. It can be very briefly summarized, because the use of the name in the fifth century has been investigated anew relatively recently. 
1. It is more than just problematic to assume the existence of an ancient “tribe” based on the antiquity of a name. The name Iaones is even recorded once in Linear B, but its content is not more precisely identifiable. Additionally, there is the fact that it is used in Assyrian texts of the eighth and seventh centuries as an ethnonym and as a toponym: “the people in the West” with barbarian ways. Thus the word circumscribes only very vaguely people in the West, without making any concrete statements about their origin and internal structure. 
2. If the mention of the Ionians in the Iliad is an interpolation, then the name appears in a Greek context for the first time in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo.  Therein it is stated that the Iaones, men of various languages from the Aegean islands and from Asia Minor, come to Delos for a festival of Apollo.
3. The Ionians are brought into connection with Athens for the first time by Solon.  He believes that Attica is the oldest country in Ionia. Whoever uses that text as a starting point is forced to revise Athens’ place in the known genealogical accounts. Herodotus and Thucydides know the story that Ion comes to Athens and becomes king there, so that the inhabitants, who were Pelasgian up to this point, become Ionians. Of course, in opposition to the claim that the original Ionians were located in Athens stand other competing accounts. Thus the Ionians are also placed in the northern Peloponnese, in Achaea. On this view, the cult of Poseidon Helikonios in Panionion, in Asia Minor, would be derived from Helike, a place in Achaea; the fact that the participants in this cult number twelve would thus reflect the twelve regions of Achaea. This notion corresponds to the identification of Ion and Achaios as brothers in the genealogy of the Hellenes.
Competition with the Athenian claim is also reflected in the tradition that Miletus and Ephesus were founded once by Athens and then again by the Messenians. Priene, although an Ionian city, would have been founded by the Thebans. And Herodotus also says that the Ionian cities in Asia Minor were an ethnic mix. 
In order to satisfy all claims, these competing views of the origin of the Ionians are integrated into a construction of the migration of the Ionians already found in Herodotus. According to this the Ionians came from Achaea; they were driven out by the Achaeans and migrated to Athens. Here they met fugitives from Pylos. In this way the emigrants from Athens could be simultaneously a combination of different “tribes” and Ionians from Athens. The associations with the name Ionians or Ion, sketched here only briefly, have a single object: through the creation of an “ethnic” past—based on genealogical constructions—community is to be produced.
Jonathan Hall is therefore right to believe that these foundation stories should not be viewed as “reminiscences of genuine population movements,” but more plausibly “as an active attempt on the part of the Greek cities of Asia Minor to anchor their origins in the deeper mythical past of mainland Greece.”  This conclusion is supported by the observation that in Athens in the time after the Persian Wars this type of self-definition was altered. In the face of the need to position itself as a leading power in the Delian-Attic League, a type of self-definition was developed by Athens which Hall calls “oppositional” in contrast to the earlier “aggregate self-definition.”  In this context value was placed on autochthony. In this tale, the goddess of the city, Athena, who raised Erechtheus, succeeds in the war over the country Attica against the god of the Ionians, Poseidon. The Ionian cities are founded by colonists from Athens.  On the basis of a communal origin (syngeneia) created in this way, the cities of Asia Minor, for example, after their liberation from the Persians, asked the Athenians whether they would like immediately to replace the Spartans as their leaders, according to Thucydides. 
Conclusions are easily drawn from a functional interpretation of the process by which the Dorian and Ionian ethnic units were derived. The term “Dorian” allowed Sparta to build up its area of dominance, which comprised large areas of the Peloponnese. Athens used the name “Ionian” in order to justify its position in the Delian-Attic League, which was ever further- reaching, centrally organized, and aiming to become a super-regional state.  However, it is obvious at the same time that these arguments did not remain uncontested, but instead caused problems in establishing the desired dominance. In the realm of concrete power politics, both great Leagues battled with the general problems which arise from domination and subordination, and in particular with two key consequences of the fact that the freedom of League members was mostly theoretical: they were not allowed to leave the League, nor had they full command of their internal affairs.
Local and Regional Ethnicization vs. Hierarchization According to Ethnic Symbols
If one accepts the arguments presented here, then the period of the fifth to the fourth centuries, which stands in the center of this volume, becomes a second phase of ethnicization. Within the framework of centralist “attempts at great power,”  which are observable from the sixth century on, one can see the construction of smaller ethnicities being mustered in opposition to the claims of Sparta and Athens.
This policy was not conceived anew by the smaller political units. It had already been suggested, as we have seen, both by the double relationship of the Spartans with the Dorians and the Achaeans, and by the attempt formulated in Athens to make the term “Ionian” the central point of reference in the League, but simultaneously to sever it from its associations within the Hellenic genealogy which had obtained until then. By means of the well-known genealogical argument, as it is used in Euripides’ Ion,  a heterarchical interpretation of the Hellenic genealogy was to be excluded.
In the genealogy presented by Euripides, it is not as usual Xouthos who is the father of Ion, but rather Apollo. The god raped Creusa, the daughter of Erechtheus. Creusa abandoned the newborn child on the Acropolis of Athens, and Hermes brought him to Delphi, where he grew up. Xouthos, descendant of Aeolus, who was settled in Achaea, and savior of Athens in the war against the Euboeans, married Creusa. With this constellation, the self-sufficient, autochthonous “history” of Athens is protected. At the same time, Ion receives a new orientation by having Apollo as his father. For Apollo, linked to Athens through Creusa, positions Ion as the ancestor of the Ionians. The Hellenic genealogy is subordinated to Ion, who stems from a divine father, whereas Doros and Achaios are sons of Xouthos and Creusa, born after him. His independent connection with Athens is extended by his becoming the father of the eponymous heroes of the Ionic tribes. From their sons proceeded the Ionian colonization, through which the Ionian cities were subordinated to Athens. This type of genealogy—regardless of how seriously it was intended by Euripides—represents an attempt, which can be paralleled by that of the Spartans to claim Achaean origins, to subvert the innate heterarchical tendency of the competing older genealogies. In this way the hierarchical relationship between the Ionian Athenians and the Ionian league members is supposed to be “historically” guaranteed.
This method of exploiting genealogies provides the background against which it is possible properly to evaluate the process of ethnicization by which smaller political units battled against the development of the political hierarchy desired by Sparta and Athens. In these cases ethnicity is used in order to rupture the larger ethnic unit, not in order to establish one. For this purpose a political element is incorporated in the form of a more or less stable alliance underneath the super-regional level. Although there is no clear evidence for it, it has to be assumed that, in practice, the process was set in motion by the means and methods observed in the ethnological case studies: through the activation of reciprocal relationships based on kinship; through the intensification and widening of existing rituals and ceremonies, which strengthen social ties; and, where it appeared possible and necessary, through the safeguarding of new ties with legal agreements.  Indeed, it is the conscious and enforced application of these methods that stands behind the “politics of ethnicity,” which Morgan was able to describe only generally as a change in equilibrium between the “different registers within the social geography of each group which recognized a common identity.”  For it would be remarkable indeed if a system of relationships in the form of a comprehensive genealogy appeared in the “political” upper layer, and at the same time such forms of thought had played only a small role or no role at all in the constitution and linkage of smaller units. 
These patterns of thought and forms of behavior, which were assumed above to have assisted the creation of societies in the Archaic Period, can now be seen to intensify. Under the new political and economic conditions, this leads to greater cohesion in the “regions” which up until now did not figure in the foreground of the history of events reported in the sources. Everywhere the local and regional networks must have stabilized. Of that there are sufficient indications. But, corresponding to the varying conditions and the resultant varying motivations in the different regions of Greece, this process did not advance in the same way everywhere. Alongside the general drive to orient oneself against the overarching claims to power of Sparta, Athens and then also Thebes, further motives emerge, rooted in local considerations. The motor that tended to push the small units in Arcadia and Messenia towards unity was the will to release themselves from the clutches of Sparta; in Phocis it was the desire to maintain regional self-sufficiency against the pressure of the Thessalians; the aim of Thessaly and Elis was to maintain the dependency of the perioikoi and to enlarge their own territory. The consequences of these varying motivations, whose treatment here is in no way comprehensive, may nevertheless be apprehended on the basis of a few central parameters.
Among these parameters, Morgan does not count, with good reason, the evidence of archaeologically defined “cultures,” because congruencies that are demonstrable only archaeologically cannot be directly equated with a political unity or a “place identity,” and also because we must reckon at the same time with “different tiers of political relationship across the landscape.” Only concretely demonstrable collective activities present clear indications of a political unit:  sanctuaries, the production of genealogies, the formation of quasi-official names for the ethnê, the striking of coins, and concrete political actions. All these are described in detail in the contributions in this volume.
It is not a new question whether the celebrations held in cultic locations represent “national meetings.”  That they may have been—with respectively differing ranges—is suggested by the public ceremonial meals, which are in many cases demonstrable, and by the regional and extra-regional origin of the offerings. Thus, in the contributions to this volume, the dedication of monuments is referred to again and again with the aim of representing regional history in the fourth century. Consider a few examples of this.
According to the evidence of the votives, Enodia, a goddess venerated in Thessalian Pherai, seems not to have been worshipped outside of this shrine until the fifth century. Later, however, her cult spreads out over all of Thessaly and southern Macedonia. The goddess becomes a pan-Thessalian deity.  Different in process but analogous in intention is the situation in Corinth. Here, shrines, dedicated to different gods and goddesses, were erected by Corinth at Perachora, Isthmia and Solygeia which are plausibly assumed to have linked the whole Corinthia to the center.  The situation in Arcadia offers a contrast. Here the shrines remain sharply separated from each other; they are not (as in the case of Phocis, for instance) integrated into an over-arching regional system. None of the Arcadian cults can ever claim a “national” status.  Correlated with this is the fact that a multitude of shrines to heroes is documented, behind which local identities are to be surmised.  Similarly in Elis, Samikon for the Triphylians on the one hand, and Olympia for the Pisatans on the other, seem to have functioned as centers for local display before Elis gained control of the sanctuary and Olympia developed into a place for Panhellenic festival. 
The varying range of the cults reflects the varying intentions of those who practiced them and also of those who dedicated their votive offerings in the shrines. This conclusion finds striking confirmation when one turns to the second large area open to ideological manipulation: the myths. Myths and the genealogies transported with them are neither fixed once and for all nor limited to an old traditional stock: old stories can be changed, new ones can be invented. In the current context myths serve as means to support and legitimize new “ethnic” identities to counteract the genealogical/mythological rhetoric used by states like Sparta and Athens aiming at regional hegemony.
The (re-)formulation of myths connected to a single location can serve the purpose of discrediting or at least disputing the claim of tales that bind together larger regions. As an answer to Sparta’s Dorian rhetoric, the myth of Echemos, who conquered Hyllos, the son of Heracles, was told in Arcadian Tegea. The defeated Hyllos had to leave the Peloponnese and the Heraclids were allowed to return there only three generations later.  In Messenia in the fourth century there was an attempt to communicate a Messenian identity which was independent from Sparta as an ancient identity above the names of the five Messenian tribes. To that end the “ambivalence between Heraclids and Dorians” was exploited, which has already been discussed above. Heracles is presented not as a Peloponnesian but as a Theban hero. He is not the ancestor of the Heraclids who are related to the Dorians. This story is obviously an expression of the Messenian ethnogenesis which became possible after the earthquake of 462. It in no way reflects an “underground Messenian cultural resistance.”  Again, the intention to set a new form of ethnicity against the great myths of the Dorians and Ionians is also unmistakable when eponyms for whole regions are incorporated into genealogies or myths, as, for example, Arkas, Pisos, Eleios or Phokos. Even if these myths are not always directly documented as narrative accounts, they can often be inferred indirectly.
Thus, for example, Mantinea was already attempting in the fifth century to present itself as pan-Arcadian by striking coins with the “Arcadian” motif of the bear and acorn. It was presumably also during this period that the bones of Arkas were transported from Mainalos to Mantinea. The attempt to create commonality in one’s own interest that is obvious in the case of Arkas seems to have been undertaken elsewhere, too. The coin series which was struck either in the shrine of Zeus Lykaios or in Tegea, with the head of Zeus Lykaios and the legend “Arkadikon,” demonstrates this. 
The behavior of the Eleans is not much different in this respect. They traced their ancestry in different variants from Aitolos, who—at least according to Ephorus—was once driven out of Elis. His descendants, the Aetolians, nonetheless returned to Elis together with the Heraclids and took over the administration of the Olympic Games. In a much later addition the eponym Eleios appears as the son of Eurykyde, the daughter of Epeios. None of these stories can be dated before the beginning of the fifth century, that is, before Pindar, so the concrete development of Elis into a fixed political unit might thus belong in this century.  The well- known conflict between Pisa and Elis in the 60s of the fourth century led to a treaty between Pisa and the Arcadians. This was accompanied on the mythological level by the fact that the eponym Pisos became the husband of the daughter of Arkas, Olympia. 
The situation in Phocis is similar to what has been observed in Arcadia or Elis. As Morgan is able to show based on the archaeological record, a network arose between the seventh and the sixth centuries that linked the northern and southern parts of Phocis, although a political structure did not yet exist. This process seems to have developed as a reaction against Thessalian pressure which was apparently being exerted as early as the sixth century. However, a common history was created only just before the Persian Wars. Pre-existing local myths, behind which the “individual communities’ claims to distinct origins and descent over and above their common Phocian ethnicity” are still recognizable, were now grouped around the eponym Phokos. 
Since bonds between communities articulated in newly (re-)formulated myths can, it seems, remain a purely ideological construct, it is in the realm of the history of events where we must seek a more unambiguous demonstration of political ethnicity. In order to create the cohesion necessary for military action, there are no means available other than those described above in connection with the Peloponnesian and the Delian-Attic League. Thus Elis attempted to link the perioikoi to itself in various ways, with treaties and with violence. The border between Arcadia and Elis was not significant until the sixth century. This became an important theme in this context.  In addition to that, we have conflicts between the Arcadians, between Sparta and the Arcadians, and also between the Thessalians and the Phocians. As early as the sixth century Thessaly had tried repeatedly to gain influence in Phocis.  On a larger scale, the threat posed to the Peloponnesians by the Thebans led to the solidarity of the Eleans, Achaeans, Mantineans and other Arcadians. They prepared themselves for the alliance with Athens and Sparta and immediately reached a consensus on the leadership—a consensus, indeed, in accordance with the heterarchical principle, in that the leadership was supposed to change according to the location of each operation. 
It is not necessary to describe these conflicts more precisely here. What is essential is that this internal cohesion dissolves again the moment military pressure ceases. The unity of the Arcadians sustained for a short time after the battle of Leuctra also remained unstable, as shown by the immediate resistance of Orchomenos to Mantinea. In this context the short-lived alliance of Akroreia, Pisatis and Arcadia should also be mentioned, as well as the attempt of Triphylia to sever itself from Elis and to link up with Arcadia.  This liability becomes especially apparent through the many dedications to Mycenaean tholos graves in the fifth and fourth centuries in the parts of Messenia which freed them from Spartan control; these allow the inference of various local identities. The same holds also for the graves of heroes in the fourth and third centuries in Arcadia.  It seems natural to associate the names mentioned in the Homeric Catalog of Ships  and frequently by later authors with various groups inside the various regions.
The clear tension between the effort to ethnicize entire regions and the tendency towards the maintenance of sub-regional and local identities allows the unsurprising hypothesis to be formulated that larger political units could achieve stability only when they structured themselves hierarchically. This hypothesis is supported by the relative longevity of the Peloponnesian and Attic Leagues.  Such relationships also emerge where, as in Elis, a strong central settlement arose. Achaea, too, may already have become a unit in the first decades of the fourth century. This development is presumably related to political activity, especially that on the northern shore of the Corinthian Gulf in the middle of the fifth century.  Another aspect of such solidarity is demonstrated by the behavior of Thebes, which used the institutions of enktêsis and epigamia in order to produce a cohesion that could no longer be dissolved. From these efforts no unified schema can be derived. The situation in Macedonia and Thessaly shows this. Zofia Archibald describes it fittingly as “an overarching regional hierarchy” which did not in either case “properly integrate its constituent parts with the mechanism of government." But despite the self-sufficiency of the individual parts, representation towards the outside is—as in the anthropological analogies—always taken care of by “an intermediary, regional authority.” 
It seems, then, that the cohesion that emerges in these “micro-states” is not directly correlated to the settlement pattern.  As indicators of the degree of cohesion one may propose, with good reason, an “expanding network of sanctuaries,”  the creation of a public area, the planning of a settlement or of access to the basic resources of water and land,  and, of course, also the legalization of political and social ties. But here the anthropological analogy can sharpen the view further. If it is to be assumed that groups of relatives structured the sub-regional and regional units, as is suggested by genealogies, grave finds and hero graves, then it is to be expected that these means were also used to produce superior, larger units. The advice of Nestor in the Iliad (2.362–363), which is clearly to be understood as an innovation, to organize the army into phratries and phylae for the successful completion of the war, reflects an aspect of behavior which should be connected to this process, and which should be expected according to the ethnological analogies. These “institutions” are no more “old” than the Dorian or Ionian phylae, but rather are tools created according to traditional patterns, just like the larger fictive units “Dorians” and “Ionians,” in order to create cohesion above the level of local units. 
So if it is the case that the cohesion in settlement communities could and did become stronger through the enlargement of kinship groupings and through their transformation into political institutions, then this also means that the process of ethnicization developing parallel to that on the regional and super-regional levels was not yet concluded in the fourth century. For according to kinship-oriented modes of thought, only the ethnic unit can guarantee a superior cohesiveness. However, by the same modes of thought, that emerging hierarchy can be questioned in order to retain heterarchically oriented structures. Ethnicization was thus no efficient means for achieving the political unity of “the Greeks.”
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[ back ] 1. Cf. Beck 1997:10–13, 22–26, and for English-language literature in particular, McInerney 2001:51–54 (with references to contemporary political debates); Morgan 2003:6–7, 12–16; Hall 1997:41.
Comprehensive treatments are Ulf 1996; Hall 1997; Morgan 2001; McInerney 1999:25–35; Siapkas 2003:1–5, 41–59. See also Gehrke 1994.
[ back ] 3. On the model of ethnogenesis, see Pohl and Reimitz 1998; Pohl 2002; on the parallel studies done by Barth 1969, cf. McInerney 2001:59. Application of the model to the Dark Ages and the Archaic period: Ulf 1990; Ulf 1996; Donlan 1997; Raaflaub 1997; Tandy 1997; van Wees 1998; van Wees 2002; application to the Medians: Rollinger 2003.
[ back ] 4. The definition of this term adopted here lies between that of an instrumentalist (i.e. ethnicity is used to mask the real purpose) and that of a constructivist (i.e. ethnicity is a mere invention). For this and the history of the concept, Sokolovskii and Tishkov 1996; Thompson 1989; Glazer and Moynihan 1975; Sollors 1998. Critical voices about the applicability of the term to ancient societies for different reasons in Ancient West and East 4.2 (2005) 409–459.
[ back ] 5. Cf. Hall 2004; Ulf 2006.
[ back ] 6. Johnson and Earle 1987; Plattner 1989. For the history of the evolutionary schema, cf. e.g. Harris 1995; Urry 1997. For the functionalist approach, which can also be connected to an ecological one, cf. Bargatsky 1986 and below, n. 13.
[ back ] 7. In addition to the literature cited above, see Rappaport 1967; Peoples 1982.
[ back ] 8. Cf. Melville 1992 on the concept of the institution.
[ back ] 9. Wiessner 2001.
[ back ] 10. For possible forms of kinship cf. e.g. Vivelo 1988:212–233; Harris 1995; Good 1997.
[ back ] 11. Hayden 2001:23–64, esp. 55–57. For the applicability to classical studies cf. Ulf 1997b and Ulf 2006.
[ back ] 12. Earle 1987.
[ back ] 13. Crumley 1987:158, defines heterarchy as follows: “Structures are heterarchical when each element is either unranked relative to each other element or possesses the potential for being ranked in a number of ways.” Crumley 1995. For the various forms of identity, the conflicts that arise from them, and the overlaps, cf. e.g. Müller 1987.
[ back ] 14. Cf. e.g. Ulf 1990; Ulf 2008; van Wees 1998; van Wees 2002; Raaflaub 1997; Donlan 1997; Whitley 1991; Morgan 2003.
[ back ] 15. Morgan 2003; cf. Beck 1997, who places much greater emphasis on the concept of institutions.
[ back ] 16. Morgan 2003:esp. 45–57, 74–85. For the attempt to determine what a polis is, cf. the works of the Copenhagen Polis Center. Especially illuminating for its line of argument is Hansen 2002. Cf. in opposition to this e.g. Murray 2000.
[ back ] 17. Proceeding from this, Gehrke 1986 has developed a typology of states beyond Athens and Sparta.
[ back ] 18. Whitley 1991.
[ back ] 19. Morgan 2003:24, 91, 173, refers to the two models, differentiated by J. Bintliff and A. Snodgrass, of the closed individual settlement with continual growth and the dispersed settlement with a more extensive growth that begins later. It is impossible to observe any unequivocal movement from the country to the city.
[ back ] 20. Cf. Morgan 2003:24, 28, 31, 38–39, 114.
[ back ] 21. Morgan 2003:195. The quotation refers to Thessaly, but has a nearly general applicability.
[ back ] 22. Morgan 2003:42, 113, 168.
[ back ] 23. Crumley 1987:158 thus characterizes heterarchical as opposed to hierarchical relationships.
[ back ] 24. Morgan correctly refers to Foxhall 1995, who maintains that evidence of agrarian activities rules out the assumption of a pure pastoralism; for this also Ulf 1999.
[ back ] 25. Morgan 2003:165–171, quotation:167; cf. also 155.
[ back ] 26. Donlan 1997.
[ back ] 27. Morgan 2003:132, 165. This gains strong support from social psychology; cf. Brewer 2003:29–33.
[ back ] 28. Morgan 2003:175, 203. Morgan 2003:107–163, investigates these connections under the heading “communities of cult.” This creates the impression that these places were independent of the other settlements and acted of their own accord. On the contrary, it is argued in the present contribution that the special religious character of cult centres should not be taken to imply that they operated as independent, separate communities.
[ back ] 29. Morgan 2003:72–73, 135. Therein lies probably a distinctive feature of Greece: the artisans themselves and not only their products come from outside. As a result, not only are the needs of the larger units satisfied in these locations, but information is more quickly and more successfully disseminated.
[ back ] 30. Cf. Morgan 2003:170, 187–190. For this reason, the conclusion that the consciousness of an ethnically closely related unit of the Greeks in the form of the Hellenic genealogy did not arise before the late sixth or even the fifth century, recently reinforced by thorough investigation, gains importance (Ulf 1996:264–271; Hall 1997:42–44; McInerney 1999:120–153; McInerney 2001; Antonaccio 2001; Hall 2002, esp. ch. 2).
[ back ] 31. Morgan 2003:176, 186.
[ back ] 32. F. Bourriot and D. Roussel’s demonstration that the origin of tribes and phratries was bound to the polis does not mean that kinship played no role. The strongest evidence, rightly cited against such a conclusion, consists of the grave finds which point to family graves and groups of descendants stemming from a common ancestor (Morgan 2003:192–195). The Homeric epics, in which not only the known genealogies are used, but also the groups of descendants become visible in outline, point in the same direction (Ulf 1990:245–250; Raaflaub 1997).
[ back ] 33. Cf. e.g. West 1997; Rollinger and Ulf 2004b.
[ back ] 34. Patzek 2004; Bichler 2004.
[ back ] 35. Hölkeskamp 1992–1995; Rollinger 2004; Gehrke 2000. Morgan 2003:70–71, rightly maintains that it is no “solution” simply to put the origins of the polis back into the post-palatial Mycenean times of the late twelfth century. Her position can be strengthened by pointing to the fact that such an argument presupposes the notion of a Greek “people.”
[ back ] 36. Cf. Cartledge 1979:144–148, Thommen 1996:55–60, Welwei 2004:102–106; also Tausend 1992:167–180.
[ back ] 37. For a thorough treatment of this point, cf. Ulf 1996:esp. 251–264; somewhat differently Hall 1997:56–65; Hall 2002:esp. 82–89; McInerney 2001:61–62.
[ back ] 38. Herodotus 1.6; Tyrtaeus F 1 D = 10, 15 G–P; F 2 D = 1a.12ff G–P. The equation of Heraclids with Dorians can be read in this text only based on later sources. The argument derived from the equation is therefore circular; so, e.g. Malkin 1994:33–43.
[ back ] 39. Pindar Pythian 1.61–66; Isthmian 9 = F 1.1–4; Pythian 5.69–72.
[ back ] 40. Thucydides 1.107.2–3; 3.91–92. For the strange elements of both passages, which allow them to be seen as an invention of Thucydides, cf. Ulf 1996:262–263. It therefore comes as no surprise that the region Doris does not feature in the Iliad’s Catalog of Ships.
[ back ] 41. Herodotus 1.67–68; cf. 9.26; 5.72; 6.53. Cf. also Pretzler in this volume.
[ back ] 42. Cf. above, n. 3.
[ back ] 43. Morgan 2003:187.
[ back ] 44. Cf. above, p. 20, and Funke 1997; cf. also Funke 1998.
[ back ] 45. Ulf 1996:250–251; Hall 1997:51–56; Hall 2002; Malkin 2001; Lomas 2004; Vanschoonwinkel 2006.
[ back ] 46. For the Near Eastern sources, Rollinger 2001:esp. 236, 248–258; Rollinger 2008.
[ back ] 47. Homeric Hymns 3.143–148. This applies only if the text is not taken to refer to the celebration held on Delos by Polycrates of Samos.
[ back ] 48. Solon F 4 D = 4a W = Ath. Pol. 5.2. On the competing stories and subsequent paragraphs cf. esp. Hall 1997:51–56 with full references; Hall 2002:67–71.
[ back ] 49. McInerney 2001:57–59.
[ back ] 50. Hall 1997:52.
[ back ] 51. Hall 1997:54; earliest textual evidence: Pindar Isthmian 2.19.
[ back ] 52. Herodotus 7.95; 9.106; Thucydides 1.2.6; 1.12.4.
[ back ] 53. Thucydides 3.86.3; 6.20.3. On this, Hall 1997:37.
[ back ] 54. For the Peloponnesian League see above n. 44; for the Delian-Attic League cf. e.g. Schuller 1974; Welwei 1999:78–79.
[ back ] 55. Cf. Ulf 1993. Beck 1997:253 speaks of a “Fragmentierung und Polyzentrierung des ‘internationalen’ Systems” (“fragmentation and poly-centralization of the ‘international’ system”).
[ back ] 56. Cf. Hall 1997:56 (with references to the literature).
[ back ] 57. The sympolity treaty between Mantinea and Helisson discussed by Funke belongs in exactly this context.
[ back ] 58. Morgan, this volume. With regard to Epirus, Davies 2000:257 speaks of an impulse which was “neither wholly ‘top-down’ nor wholly ‘bottom-up,’ but a complex mixture of the two.” For Phocis cf. McInerney 1999; an exemplary assessment of the complex relationships inside Arcadia is Nielsen and Roy 1999.
[ back ] 59. This does not entail any attempt to reinstall a clan-based society (“Geschlechterstaat”). But the creation of phylae and phratries presupposes the reality of—and thought about— structures of kinship, which form the foundations of those social units. This cannot have been a merely aristocratic phenomenon. Cf. also above, n. 32.
[ back ] 60. Morgan 2003:164–170, citations: 168.
[ back ] 61. Morgan 2003:109. Cf. above, n. 11.
[ back ] 62. Morgan 2003:109, 113, 135, 139–140, 149.
[ back ] 63. Morgan 1994; Morgan 2003:75–60, 150–152.
[ back ] 64. Morgan 2003:150, 155–161; Voyatzis 1999.
[ back ] 65. The hero shrines are documented only by Pausanias, but according to him they originated in the classical and Hellenistic period; for this, Morgan 2003:161–162, with reference to Jost 1985.
[ back ] 66. Roy, this volume; Ruggeri, this volume; Giangiulio, this volume. For the development of inter-regional cults cf. Ulf 1997b.
[ back ] 67. Pretzler, this volume; Ulf 1996.
[ back ] 68. Luraghi, this volume; Figueira 1999; Siapkas 2003.
[ back ] 69. Cf. Pretzler in this volume; Morgan 2003:161; Beck 1997:189–190.
[ back ] 70. Cf. Ulf 1997a:21–22, 26–31. Somewhat differently, Moller 2004:259–260, 264–265. This assumption is further supported by the fact that the return of the bones of Hippodameia from Midea to Argolis is to be placed in the context of the alliance of Elis and Argos against Sparta in 420 BCE; Pausanias 6.20.7; see Moller 2004:265n87.
[ back ] 71. For this, Moller 2004:258; Ruggeri, this volume; Giangiulio, this volume.
[ back ] 72. Cf. Herodotus 8.27–28. Morgan 2003:25–27, 113; McInerney 2001:63–67. Numismatic evidence attenuates the problem that these myths are documented only late, but it cannot fully eliminate it. For coins can be struck on account of various interests within the same region by different cities with different meanings; cf. Morgan 2003:26, 84–85, 132; Nielsen 1999:43–46. On the other hand, the personal names of the fifth and fourth centuries demonstrate ethnic coherence. Then again, in conflict with this point is the fact that these names turn up only in the context of an external perspective; Herodotus 6.127; on this, Nielsen 1999:22–32; Freitag, this volume. In the enumeration of the ethnê living in the Peloponnese, Herodotus (8.73; cf. also Pausanias 1.17.7) speaks of the Arcadians, who have lived there since ancient times; for this, Morgan 2003:37–38, 196–197. For the epigraphically attested names, Morgan 2003:208–211.
[ back ] 73. For the relationship of Elis to the perioikoi, Roy 2000b, Roy, this volume. An example of this is the conflict over Lasion (Xenophon Hellenica 7.4.12): Ruggeri, this volume. Morgan 2003:47.
[ back ] 74. This can be clearly followed in the archaeological record from the dedications and building activities in the Phocian shrine of Kalapodi; Morgan 2003:24, 131, and Morgan 2001:30–34; Morgan 2003:115–119. Cf. also Beck 1997:87.
[ back ] 75. Xen. Hellenica 7.5.1–2; cf. the situation after Leuctra, which is to a certain degree comparable, Roy 2000a:310.
[ back ] 76. Cf. Pretzler, this volume; Ruggeri, this volume, Roy, this volume.
[ back ] 77. Luraghi, this volume.
[ back ] 78. For the post-Mycenean origin of the Catalog of Ships, see convincingly Eder 2004.
[ back ] 79. Such types of alliance were not normally long-lived. The reference to alliances in the Lelantine War (of doubtful historicity) cannot be a counter-argument here, as it is certainly a projection backwards from the fifth century.
[ back ] 80. Freitag, this volume.
[ back ] 81. Archibald 2000:231.
[ back ] 82. Davies 1997:24–27. Archibald 2000:214, rightly speaks of the opposition of ethnos and polis not as “alternative modes” but rather as “different levels of social organization.”
[ back ] 83. Morgan 2003:57, 74.
[ back ] 84. For example, in Larisa from the sixth century onwards in the form of aligned houses, new forms of roof tiles, imported pottery; cf. Morgan 2003:90.
[ back ] 85. Ulf 1996:271–276; likewise Gehrke 2000.