Chapter 12. Mythical Foundations of Greek Society and the Concept of the City-State

The kinship terminology of the various Indo-European languages, as outlined in Emile Benveniste’s Le vocabulaire des institutions indo-européennes (1969), shows clearly that the basis of Indo-European social organization was the tribe. [1] For the word “tribe,” I find the working definition of Montgomery Watt, in his study of pre-Islamic Arab society, particularly useful: “a body of people enked together by kinship, whether in the male or in the female line.” [2] The kinship, of course, may he a matter of confederation, not just genetic affiliation, and the common ancestry of the given body of people may be a matter of mythopoeic thinking, not just reality. [3]

The problem is, efforts to study the Indo-European heritage of tribal organization have been impeded by the fact that most Indo-European languages are attested in the historical context of societies that happen to reflect what we recognize as institutions of a state, not of a tribe. At the present time there is much uncertainty, particularly in the case of the ancient Greek evidence, where the current consensus among specialists in archaic and Classical Greek history is that the institutions of the Greek pólis ‘city-state’ cannot be derived from the institutions of any tribal form of society. The object of my presentation is to argue against this consensus and to show that the ancient Greek evidence affords a {276|277} particularly valuable comparative insight into the nature of Indo-European society.

To illustrate the current consensus against the notion of a tribal heritage in the Greek polis, I cite the detailed book of Denis Roussel (1976). He deplores the equation, made by Classicists in general, between the notion of “tribe” and the Greek word phūlḗ [4] which is glossed in the dictionary of Liddell and Scott as ‘race, tribe1. As Roussel recognizes, the phūlḗ is in fact a subdivision of society in the polis, as we see from the traditional four-phūlaí system of Ionian cities and the traditional three-or four-phūlaí systems of Dorian cities. For Aristotle, it is hard even to imagine the existence of a polis without subdivisions into phūlaí, not to mention sub-subdivisions into ph(r)ātríai (Politics 1264a8). The fact that the phūlḗ was a distinctive feature of the polis but not of the éthnos [5] had led Max Weber to postulate that the phūlḗ was the invention, as it were, of the polis, [6] Even in myth, the phūlaí were treated as inventions made for and in the city (e.g. Ion institutes the four old phūlaí of Athens: Herodotus 5.66.2, Euripides Ion 1579-1588; Aletes institutes the eight phūlaí of Corinth: Suda π 225 Adler s.v. pánta oktō). Accordingly, the reasoning goes, the phūlaí were never tribes. For Roussel, if indeed the phūlḗ was a functional subdivision of the polis, there is then no reason to think that this institution was a reflex of tribal society. [7]

What is misleading here, I suggest, is the assumption that the reflex of the tribe—if there is to be a reflex at all—should be the phūlḗ of the polis. Rather, it should be the polis itself. We must keep in mind that, from an anthropological point of view, the concept of politics—as derived from the word pólis—is not incompatible with the concepts of tribe in general and kinship in particular. [8] Just like the polis, the tribe is a social totality—from the standpoint of the tribe. For example, Benveniste notes the semantics of Indic viś- ‘tribe, people’ and of the derivative viśva- ‘all’. [9] And the totality of the polis, as Roussel’s findings suggest, is {277|278} the sum of its phūlaí. I would suggest, therefore, that if the polis developed from the tribe, then the phūlḗ developed from a subdivision of the tribe.

In this connection, we may consider the etymology of the Umbrian word trifu- ‘tribe’ (cognate of Latin tribus), [10] used correlatively with the word tuta ‘city’ or ‘people’ (cognate of Old Irish tuath ‘tribe, people’ and German Deutsch) in referring to the city of Iguvium (Iguvine Tables III 24-25, 29-30: tutape(r) Iiuvina trefiper Iiuvina). [11] As Benveniste argues, [12] Umbrian trifu- is apparently derived from a combination of *tri- and *bhu-, where the second element is cognate with the phū- of phūlḗ. As cognate concepts of a social totality subdivided into three parts, Benveniste connects the Greek place-name Triphūlíā [13] and the distinctly Dorian patterns of subdividing the citizens of the polis into three phūlaí. [14]

As for the Latin word tribus, it seems to have undergone a semantic shift of subcategorization: [15] instead of designating the totality of society, as is the case with the Umbrian cognate trifu, Latin tribus applies to each of the three primordial constituencies of Rome (Cicero De republica 2.14: [Romulus] populum…in tribus tris curiasque triginta discripserat; also Livy 10.6.7). I would attribute this particular shift to a process of sunoikismós ‘urban consolidation’ [16] that could have operated on the ideological principle of trifunctionalism: three parts make a whole that in turn becomes part of a new totality of three. [17] In short, I understand the Roman model {278|279} of tribus, a “third” of the whole, to be a secondary development, as distinct from an earlier semantic pattern represented by the Umbrian model, where the equivalent of Latin tribus is a “triad” that is the whole. [18] This Roman model leads to the Latin usage of translating Greek phūlḗ, which is clearly part of the whole, by way of tribus. Even in the earlier model, the principle of division is built in, as we see from the verb tribuō.

Benveniste’s basic explanation of Latin tribus and Umbrian trifu- as a combination of *tri- and *bhu-, where the second element is cognate with the phū- of phūlḗ, is dismissed as ‘de la pure acrobatie linguistique’ by Roussel, [19] for whom the three-phūlaí subdivisions of citizens in Dorian cities are a matter of relatively recent cultural diffusion, not of common inheritance. [20] But this is to underestimate the weight of not only comparative but also internal evidence, as we shall now see.

In a recent study of the epigraphical testimonia of official city documents, it has been argued that, in Dorian cities where the three-phūlaí subdivision prevails, there is a traditional hierarchy in the ranking of the phūlaí. [21] Citizens of Dorian cities like Megara and Cos are consistently listed in the following order of three phūlaí: (1) Dumânes (2) Hulleîs (3) Pámphūloi. [22] Alongside this principle of hierarchy there is a complementary principle of egalitarianism, in that all three phūlaí get to share in certain aspects of civic life on an equal basis. Thus, for example, the terms of certain magistracies seem to be divided equally among the phūlaí within the space of one year. Also, the principle of rotation applies: the sequence 1/2/3 of Dumânes/Hulleîs/Pámphūloi will be followed by 2/3/1, then by 3/1/2, back to 1/2/3, and so forth. To quote directly the formulation of Jones: “the Dorian phūlaí, wherever found, followed a common, traditional order that might, on occasion, be rotated in such a way that in any given document any of the three phūlaí might hold first, second, or third position.” [23]

Still, the hierarchy of the phūlaí is maintained, as we see from the fact that the third phūlḗ, the Pámphūloi, is specifically excluded from certain {279|280} civic roles, such as certain aspects of public sacrifice. [24] Thus the basis for rotation has to be the order Dumânes/Hulleîs/Pámphūloi. Moreover, in Dorian cities where a fourth phūlḗ had been instituted to accommodate the supposedly pre-Dorian elements, [25] this phūlḗ could still rank above that of the Pámphūloi. Thus at Argos, for example, the order of phūlaí in an inscription dated ca. 460-450 (DGE no. 96 [1]) is as follows: (1) Dumânes (2) Hulleîs (3) Hurnáthioi (4) Pámphūloi. [26] Later inscriptions, however, reflecting a change from an oligarchical to a democratic form of government, [27] show a changed order of phūlaí, (1) Dumânes (2) Hulleîs (3) Pámphūloi (4) Hurnáthioi. [28] Such a promotion of the Pámphūloi in the specific context of a democratic ideology is additional evidence that the Pámphūloi had been the lowest of the three phūlaí.

In sum, we have internal evidence for the traditional convention of a fixed order in the three-phūlaí and modified four-phūlaí systems of Dorian cities. As Jones concludes, “the observance of the convention throughout the Dorian region shows that the fixed order must, like the phūlaí themselves, have antedated the dispersal of the Dorians to their historical centers.” [29] He adds the opinion that “the practice of rotating the order—a sophisticated and…egalitarian device—did not evolve until well into the historical period.” [30] {280|281}

All this internal evidence can lead to valuable comparative insights. For example, the semantic relationship between the name of the lowest in the order of three phūlaí, the Pámphūloi, and the word phūlḗ itself, corresponds to the semantic relationship between the name of the lowest in the order of the three leading social classes or varṇa-s in Indic traditions, [31] the vaiśya-, and the word from which it is derived, viś- ‘tribe’: just as the word Pámphūloi implies the whole community while designating the lowest of three parts, so also the word vaiśya-, by virtue of its derivation, implies the whole community, the viś-, while specifically designating, again, the lowest of three parts. We have in fact already noted that the word viś- stands for the concept of a whole community, as we could see from the semantic relationship between viś- and the derivative viśva- ‘all’. [32] Moreover, in Rig-Veda 8.35.13, the expression devāsaḥ sarvayā viśā, literally ‘gods, with the viś- complete’, denotes the completion of the speech-act of listing the gods of all three social functions corresponding to the three leading varṇa-s: Mitra-Varuṇa as the first (sovereignly/priesthood), the Maruts as the second (warrior class), and the Aśvins as the third (agriculture/herding). [33] The symbolic inclusive-ness of the third part is evident in other ways as well: for example, the word viś- is sufficient for designating, all by itself, the lowest of the three {281|282} leading varṇa-s, the vaiśya- (e.g. Rig-Veda 8.35. 18). [34] The semantic bivalence of The Indic word viś-, in designating both the third part of totality and totality itself, has been compared by Georges Dumézil with the situation in Latin, where the word Quirītes, related to Quirīnus, the god representing the third function in the pre-Capitoline triad, designates not only ‘civilians’ as opposed to milites but also the totality of the Roman people (note the proposed etymology: *co-uiro-). [35] I might add that, just as Indic viś- may alternatively include the two upper functions or exclude them, [36] so also Greek dêmos may designate either the whole community [37] or else the community minus its hēgemónes ‘leaders’. [38]

The parallelisms between the third in the triad of Dorian phūlaí, the Pámphūloi, and the third in the triad of Indic varṇa-s, the vaiśya-, extend beyond the realm of pure semantics. Just as the Pámphūloi are ranked the third and lowest of the three phūlaí, so also the vaiśya- are ranked third and lowest of the three leading varṇa-s. [39] Moreover, just as the Pámphūloi have the lowest priority in certain aspects of sacrifice, [40] so too the vaiśya-. [41]

The institutions of sacrifice also reveal other aspects of trifunctionality in the Dorian triad of phūlaí. In an inscription from Cos (DGE no. {282|283} 251C), [42] it is specified that three sheep are to be selected for sacrifice, each on behalf of each of the three phūlaí (lines 1-5);

As for the association of the Hulleîs with the precinct of Herakles, we may note the tradition according to which Húllos, evidently the eponymous ancestor of the Hulleîs, was the son of Herakles. In myth, Húllos the Heraclid was the leader of the initial attempt of the Dorians to conquer the Peloponnesus (cf. e.g. Herodotus 9.26.2-5), Húllos was the adopted son of Aigimios, son of Dôros, the eponymous ancestor of the Dorians, while Aigimios had two sons of his own, Dumān and Pámphūlos, eponymous ancestors of the Dumânes and the Pámphūloi (Ephorus FGH 70 F 15; cf. Strabo 9.4.10 C427 and Apollodorus 2.8.3). Of the three eponymous ancestors, the second or warrior function of the non-Dorian Húllos is evident from the theme of his military leadership: in referring to the Dorian Conquest, which according to myth was successfully executed under the leadership of three great-grandsons of Húllos, the words of Pindar describe the Dorian invaders as Ὕλλου τε καὶ Αἰγιμιοῦ Δωριεὺς…στρατός ‘the Dorian Host of Hullos and Aigimios’ (Isthmian 9.2-3). As for the three great-grandsons of Húllos, they became ancestors of the three great royal houses of the Peloponnesus, the Dorian dynasties of {283|284} Argos, Sparta, and Messenia (Apollodorus 2.8.4-5). [45] Thus, for example, King Leonidas of Sparta traced himself back to Herakles, twenty generations removed (Herodotus 7.204). [46]

The genealogical association of Dorian royalty with the second phūlḗ, the Hulleîs, is comparable to the historically verifiable fact that the kings of India generally came from the second varṇa-, the warrior class of the kṣatriya-. [47] The appropriation of kingship by the kṣatriya-s is reflected even in the Indic usage of the very word kṣatriya to designate the second or warrior function: of and by itself, the base-form kṣatram ‘dominion, power’ seems to designate kingliness in general, not necessarily the second function in particular. [48] Moreover, the higher stratum within the category of kṣatriya- in Vedic diction is rājanya- (e.g. Rig-Veda 10.90.12 = Atharva-Veda 19.6.6), where the derivation from rājan- ‘king’ reveals most clearly the appropriation of kingliness by the second function.

In light of such comparisons, it seems reasonable to infer that the three-phūlaí organization of Dorian cities is a reflex of Indo-European trifunctionalism. [49] It seems also reasonable to explain the epithet trikhā́īkes, applied to Dōriees ‘Dorians’ at Odyssey xix 177, as a combination of an adverbial element meaning ‘in three parts’, *trikhā (?), [50] and a radical element *u̯eik-/*u̯oik-, cognate with Indic viś-. [51] In a fragment of {284|285} Hesiod (233 MW), this same epithet of the Dorians is actually glossed by the poetry as meaning having land divided into three parts. The territorial implications of the Indic root viś- ‘to settle’ are compatible with such a description of the Dorians. That their traditional tripartion into three phūlaí reflects territorial as well as political subdivision is also suggested by the description of the settlement of the Dorian island of Rhodes in the Homeric Catalogue of Ships: the settlers trihkthà…oíkēthen kataphūladón ‘were settled [root *u̯oik-] in three parts, phūlḗ by phūlḗ’ (Iliad II 668). [52] The adverb trikhthá ‘in three parts’ tells us that each phūlḗ is part of a whole (cf. Iliad XV 189, on the three-way division of the universe among the sons of Kronos). [53]

Such indications of the territorial aspect of subdivision into phūlaí need not be taken to mean that a typical polis and its surrounding territory were simply divided into a given number of sectors inhabited by a corresponding number of phūlaí. [54] The example of Athens is instructive {285|286} here: after the reform of Kleisthenes (Herodotus 5,(59.1-2; Aristotle Constitution of the Athenians 21.2-6), the polis was subdivided into ten phūlaí, each further subdivided into three trittúes, each of which was further subdivided into a number of dêmoi ‘demes’. The mechanism for the territorial distribution of the phūlaí was not the number 10 of the phūlaí but the number 3 of the subdivisions of the phūlaí, the trittúes, the territory of Athens was subdivided into three categories, (A) urban, (B) coastal, and (C) interior, and each of these categories of trittúes was further subdivided into sub territories assigned to the ten phūlaí. [55] In other words, the ten phūlaí were separately distributed in each of the three areas А В С. [56] Thus the ten phūlaí were in effect territorial subdivisions of the А В С categories of the trittúes, not of the one polis, while the ABC trittúes were political subdivisions of the ten phūlaí.

As for the political system of Athens before the reform of Kleisthenes, there is a report that the polis had been politically subdivided into four phūlaí, which were each subdivided into three trittúes or phrātríai, which were each subdivided into thirty génē ‘lineages’ (Aristotle Constitution of the Athenians, F 385 Rose). [57] The earlier four phūlaí of Athens, the Gelélontes, the Aigikoreîs, the Argadeîs, and the Hóplētes, were recognized as cognate with the basic traditional four phūlaí of the Ionians (see Herodotus 5.66.2, 5.69.1). [58] From the epigraphical evidence, we know that most Ionian cities preserved these four phūlaí, usually along with added phūlaí. [59] Moreover, as Benveniste has argued, the four basic Ionian phūlaí can be explained as a reflex of the three Indo-European social functions, with the third function differentiated into the two separate functions of cultivators/herdsmen, on the one hand, and artisans, on the other. [60]

Having just surveyed the basics of what little we are told about the political system of Athens before the reform of Kleisthenes, I raise the {286|287} possibility, however tenuous, of an inherited territorial principle in tthe distribution of phūlaí. True, what Kleisthenes had changed was not only the naming and numbering of the phūlaí also the actual constituency of the phūlaí, in that the subdivisions of old trittúes or phrātríai were replaced by subdivisions of new trittúes, further subdivided into territorial entities called dêmoi. Aristotle says explicitly, it is also true, that Kleisthenes did not reform the phrātríai or their constituencies, the génē ‘lineages’ (Constitution of the. Athenians 21.6), so that the phrātríai could survive and in limited ways even cooperate with the dêmoi. [61] Still, the fact that the new trittúes were territorial units does not necessarily mean that the phrātríai, ousted from functioning as subdivisions of the phūlaí, had been devoid of any territorial principle. The subdivisions of the polis need not he conceived as marking differentiations exclusively in terms of territory or exclusively in terms of kinship (in the: broader, political sense of the word). After all, the Athenian dêmoi, by virtue of being subdivisions of the new phūlaí, became functional determinants of actual ancestry. [62] Moreover, the concept of trittús, equated with phrātríai by Aristotle in the fragment that we have been considering, suggests some kind of territorially distributive mechanism: we may recall that the concept of the new trittús, as established alter Kleisthenes, served to distribute each of the ten new phūlaí into three distinct territorial variations.

There still remain major problems, however, with the numbers recorded in Aristotle’s report (Constitution of the Athenians, F 385 Rose) of the old subdivision of Athens into four phūlaí, each further subdivided into three trittúes or phrātríai, each further subdivided into thirty génē, The purported number of old trittúes, twelve, seems far too low in comparison with the number of new trittúes after Kleisthenes, that is, thirty. Perhaps a solution can be found if we do not assume that Aristotle’s report applies to all of Athenian territory. The report begins by stating that the population was subdivided into gēorgoí and dēmiourgoí, and what then follows in the text may be interpreted to mean that each of these two subdivisions was further subdivided into four phūlaí, each further subdivided into three old trittúes or phrātríai. With (his reckoning we would have a total of twenty-four phrātríai as a territorial grid for the even distribution of phūlaí. [63] There may be a parallel situation in {287|288} Corinth, where eight phūlaí seem to be further subdivided into three units each, yielding a territorial grid of, again, twenty-four units. [64] The eight- phūlaí system of Corinth apparently reflects the politics of the dynasty of tyrants known as the Kypselidai, [65] who promoted a clear delineation between countryside and city proper (Ephorus FGH 70 F 179; Aristotle Constitution of the Corinthians, F 516 Rose [cf. F 611.20]), and it may he argued that the Corinthian eight- phūlaí system reflects a countryside/city split of a modified Dorian four-phūlaí system. [66] There is a remote possibility that the system described by Aristotle as prevailing in Athens before Kleisthenes can be attributed to the tyranny of the Peisistratidai: in this case, if my interpretation of the Aristotle fragment has any merit, the basic Ionian four-phūlaí system was split along the lines of gēorgoí in the countryside, dēmiourgoí in the city proper. [67]

In any case, the principle of a twelve-part territorial division on the basis of four phūlaí subdivided into three phrātríai each should be compared with what Herodotus has to say about the sacred confederation of twelve Ionian cities in Asia Minor, modeled on an ancient twelve-part territorial division of the Ionians at a time when they were still supposedly settled in the Peloponnesus (1,145: oíkeon). Among the cities of the Ionian dōdekápolis, a notable exception to the pattern of retaining the {288|289} four basic Ionian phūlaí was Ephesus: this city was subdivided into five phūlaí, one of which was the Epheseîs, which was further subdivided into an unknown number of khiliastúes; among the six attested khiliastúes are the Gelélontes and Argadeîs, names of the old Ionian phūlaí. [68] Significantly, Herodotus (1.147.2) reports that Ephesus (along with Kolophon) was exceptional among Ionian cities in that it did not celebrate the festival of the Apatoúria.

Now the Ionian Apatoúria, as we know from independent evidence, was the occasion for the seasonal reunion of the phrātríai. [69] Thus the absence of the Apatoúria at Ephesus seems to be correlated with the absence there of subdivision into phrātríai. Conversely, when we consider the Apélla, a Dorian institution analogous to the Ionian Apatoúria, we find that it, too, serves as the occasion for the seasonal reunion of the phrātríai. [70] In archaic Sparta there were three groups of nine phrātríai (Demetrius of Skepsis, in Athenaeus 142e-f)—presumably corresponding to the tripartition into three phūlaí. [71] I would surmise, on the analogy of the Athenian patterns, that the territorial distribution of the Spartan phūlaí and phrātríai would be in groupings of D1/H1/P1, D2/ H2/P2, D3/H3/P3,…, not of D1/D2/D3…, H1/H2/H3…, P1/P2/P3…(where D = Dumânes, H = Hulleîs, P = Pámphūloi; and where 123... = the territorial order of the phrātríai).

To sum up the discussion of the phrātríai as they existed both before and after the reform of Kleisthenes: I conclude that this social subdivision is a matter of both kinship (in the broader, political sense of the word) and territoriality. The Athenian elimination of phrātríai as functional subdivisions of the polis reflects a movement away from a social structure that would have tended to exclude newer inhabitants by placing a stress on inherited kinship. The retention of the concept of phūlḗ as the largest political subdivision of Athens is thus but a camouflage for the fact that the kinship-related grouping of the phrātríai has been replaced by the territorial grouping of the trittús as the functional subdivision of the phūlḗ. If we follow this interpretation of Aristotle, then it may be that twenty-four old phrātríai are replaced by thirty new trittúes and four old phūlaí (times two) are replaced by ten new ones. As Aristotle observes elsewhere (Politics 1319b23-27), the successful formula for {289|290} achieving democracy in a polis is to increase the number of phūlaí and phrātríai, “so that all people may be mixed with each other as much as possible.”

Aristotle’s remark about “mixing” implies that social structuring along the lines of phūlaí and phrātríai is equivalent to the regulating of marriage along the lines of kinship. So also in the Constitution of the Athenians Aristotle says that Kleisthenes distributed the entire population of the Athenians into ten new phūlaí in place of the old four because he wanted to “mix” the population (21.2): the “mixing” led to greater participation in the polity, which Aristotle (ibid.) connects with the expression mḗ phūlokrīneîn (μὴ φυλοκρινεῖν) ‘not to make distinctions according to phūlḗ’ as it applies to those who wish to verify the pedigrees (génē) of their fellow citizens. The injunction ‘not to make distinctions according to phūlḗ’ applies not to the new phūlḗ of the social reform but to the old phūlḗ that still reflects more faithfully the institutions of the tribe. [72] In fact, the notion ‘to make distinctions according to phūlḗ’ reveals something basic about the inherited semantics of both phūlḗ and phûlon. As Nicole Loraux points out, [73] the noun phûlon ‘race, kind’ conveys the distinctiveness of one entity as opposed to another: thus, for example, the phûlon of gods is distinct from the phūlḗ of men (Iliad V 441-442); the emphasis is on closure of categories, on separation—which is also why the plural phūla conveys the diversity of subcategories within a category, [74] Both notions, distinctiveness and diversity, are evident in the Homeric usage of phûlon as a synonym (or better, as a diachronic equivalent) of phūlḗ: in Iliad II 362, Agamemnon is advised to set up battle formations by arranging the warriors katà phûla ‘according to phūlaí and katà phrḗtrās ‘according to phrātríai’. [75] Moreover, the verb for ‘arrange’ in this passage is krīnein, the same element that we find in the expression phūlokrīneîn; in other words, the act of arranging katà phûla and kata phrḗtrās is itself an act of selection, setting apart, distinguishing. [76] But there is another side of distinctiveness here, and that is complementarity; again in the same context, we see that each distinct military unit can then help the other (Iliad 11 363)—while all along they fight in their own categories, katà sphéas (II 366). Thus group solidarity is not at odds with {290|291} the distinctiveness of subgroups. The semantics of categorization by phûlon are reminiscent of the opposition “marked/unmarked” in language: the phûlon is the marked member in an opposition with any other member of a totality. So also with the kinship term phūlḗ: ‘to make distinctions about phūlḗ’ is an exercise in maintaining categories of markedness. If we turn for just a moment to consider an analogue in a society that is otherwise very different from that of the Greeks, I am reminded of how the Tonga reportedly describe to outsiders the function of the main kinship subdivisions of their society: for them such a subdivision is their “flag.” [77] It is something given to them by divinity “so that we could marry properly.” [78]

In the case of the Tonga, proper patterns of marriage are achieved by the rule of exogamy among the kinship groups, which serves as “a primary mechanism for spinning the network of alliances between groups.” [79] It seems fair to generalize, in fact, that the structure of any tribal society is shaped by its patterns of kinship grouping through exogamy, endogamy, or some combination of the two. In the case of the Greek polis, the evidence about patterns of marriage is insufficient, but one thing seems obvious: the phrātríā is by its very nature exogamous. [80] As for the phūlḗ, there is reason to think that there were constraints against certain patterns of intermarriage among phūlaí, [81] and we may compare the detailed rules against certain patterns of intermarriage among the varṇa-s of India. [82] {291|292}

In this connection, it is interesting to note that Herodotus refers to the Aigeidai, a politically important lineage at Sparta, as a phūlḗ (4.149.1), [83] whereas Aristotle refers to them simply as a phrātríā (Constitution of the Laconians, F 532 Rose), [84] Aristotle concerns himself mostly with the lineage’s claim to Theban origins, [85] whereas Herodotus is preoccupied with the lineage’s political role in the history of Sparta: [86] significantly, tradition has it that the Aigeidai were connected by marriage to the royal line of the Herakleidai, in that Theras, an ancestor of the Aigeidai, whose father had fled in exile from Thebes to Sparta, was the maternal uncle of Eurysthenes and Prokles, the two Herakleidai who became the ancestors of the two royal houses of Sparta (Herodotus 6.52.2). [87] Now it so happens that lineages with royal connections or ambitions tend to practice endogamy, [88] as is clearly the case with the Bakkhiadai of Corinth (Herodotus 5.92). [89] Thus the reference by Herodotus to the Aigeidai as a phūlḗ at Sparta (again, 4.149.1) may perhaps reflect the endogamous tendencies of this lineage. [90]

Many uncertainties remain, and much further work is required on the problem of kinship patterns in ancient Greek society. [91] But at least this much seems to me certain: the Greek polis grew out of tribal institutions {292|293} that, reflect, albeit from a distance, an Indo-European heritage. The passage from tribe to polis, as is the case with any structure viewed through time, is a process where some aspects of the older phases of the structure fit in with those of the newer phases while other aspects are out of joint. We may not assume that difficulties of transition prove the lack of a historical connection between older and newer phases, any more than we may assume that instances of smooth transition prove the sameness of older and newer phases. {293|294}