3. Sophoi and Concord

In this chapter we shall examine the theme of concord (ὁμόνοια), which figures so prominently in the sources on the sophists. The aim is to advance our understanding of this concept beyond Kerferd’s pessimistic verdict: “It is … a matter for regret that it is simply not possible to recover the history of the term in fifth-century thought.” [1] The discourse on concord offers an ideal case study to explore the intellectual continuities discussed up to this point. It links the sophists to contemporary and earlier practitioners of wisdom, dating all the way back to the Seven Sages. Better understanding these continuities, in turn, will allow us to appreciate how integrated the sophists were in the Greek wisdom tradition, and also offer a corrective view to the Platonic insistence on the sophists’ unique status.

We shall approach this topic by surveying the sources on the sophists to see in what contexts their calls to ὁμόνοια appear. We shall then consider the historical uses of the term beyond the sophists, broadening our exploration by moving away from an exclusive consideration of the word ὁμόνοια to a broader investigation of the theme of concord. This broader scope will direct us to the practices of the early lawgivers and sages, but we shall also consider in this context poetic and choral expressions of concord and equality. By exploring concord thematically, we can recover practices and preoccupations shared by a diverse group of sophoi. In the process, we shall see how the sophists were the inheritors of an intellectual discourse that traces its origins back to the beginning of the Greek wisdom tradition.

Let us start with a short review of the actual fragments preserved to us from Gorgias, Thrasymachus, and Antiphon. Gorgias addressed the Greeks at Olympia during the Olympic Games on the matter of ὁμόνοια in 408 BCE. [2] The reason for his address, we are told, was the presence of discord (στάσις) among the Greeks:

It is not clear when ὁμόνοια was first used by any Greek author. [11] Kramer argues that it was coined sometime after the 450s BCE as a response to the growing political turmoil in the Greek city-states. In such a period of factionalism, says Kramer, it is easy to understand that wise men persuaded their cities to practice concord among each other, and the sophists were the first to do so. [12] In promoting this belief, however, Kramer had to dismiss several sources that point to an earlier use of the word. Plutarch preserves an account about Heraclitus who, it is said, was invited by his citizens to speak on the topic of concord: [13] The same story is told by Themistius, [15] but he never mentions concord. Instead he tells us that Ephesus was under siege at that time and hanging onto life by a thread, and that Heraclitus was thus recommending a rationing of food. This siege is not mentioned by Plutarch, however, and some have argued that he confused the historical circumstances. [16] Such confusion would disqualify Plutarch as a trustworthy source for the use of ὁμόνοια before the 450s BCE.

Pseudo-Aristotle also mentions concord before quoting Heraclitus in the spurious De Mundo, [17] but the author does not explicitly attribute this word to Heraclitus. Romilly has argued that we should not understand the mention of concord as being part of Heraclitus’ philosophical discourse. We should rather see it as part of Pseudo-Aristotle’s context and thus reject any connection to Heraclitus. [18]

The so-called Themistocles decree contains the participle ὁμονοοῦντες, [19] but the authenticity of this decree is hotly disputed, and it is possible that its actual date is not 480, as the content would indicate, but that it rather dates back to shortly before 348, as some stylistic features point to. [20]

Finally, we have preserved in Diodorus Siculus an oracular response of Delphi to Lycurgus, the shadowy lawgiver of Sparta: The authenticity of this oracle has been the subject of much debate. Romilly argues that there are good reasons to reject it as a reliable historical document, especially to support an early use of ὁμόνοια. [22]

Except for these four sources, the earliest instances of ὁμόνοια are found in the late fifth century. [23] There is no way to confirm that the word was not used before that time. We can only note that in the texts that have come down to us it is not to be found in earlier authors. [24] Following Kramer, Romilly traces the emergence of the discourse on concord to a defense against the imminent disintegration of the city-state, which she dates to the end of the fifth century BCE, and she explains the occurrence of concord in the four texts quoted above as instances where discourses were borrowed from a later time and projected back onto an earlier context. [25] She allows for the possibility that there was an earlier use that we simply do not have preserved in our sources, and this she finds more plausibly to have existed in earlier textual traditions on Sparta. [26]

Scholars have noted and commented on the importance of concord for the sophists. Kramer, for example, writes that since they were well versed in every branch of knowledge, they were naturally turned to for help to solve the aggravated political situation that existed in many city-states towards the end of the fifth century BCE; and their response was a universal call for concord. [27] Romilly, likewise, attributes to them a profound investment in the needs of social life; and this investment translates into a commitment to a stable social and political situation of the city-states. [28] Guthrie, in turn, who emphasizes the sophists’ democratic sensibilities, saw their preoccupation with concord as a natural expression of their egalitarian ethos. [29] Common to most modern interpretations, however, is the inclination to understand the word at face value, often reading into it a real, historical call to concord motivated by an imminent political crisis that threatened the community as a whole. [30] But this way of understanding the word—since it assumes a transparent meaning of concord—tends to pay less attention to the cultural context in which the word was used.

Few scholars have for example considered the connection between the sophists and the theme of concord from a perspective that predates the threat to the city-state during the end of the Peloponnesian War, and even fewer have sought to locate it in city-states other than Athens. This we shall attempt next, without reopening the question of the first dateable occurrence of ὁμόνοια. We shall instead focus on the broader connection between concord and wisdom, specifically as expressed by philosophers, sages, mediators, lawgivers, poets, priests, magicians, and other groups invested with the authority of sophia. Our starting point will be a short survey of how the concept of concord was employed and by what authors. [31]

The concept of concord figures prominently in early texts, but the word ὁμόνοια itself does not occur until later. Instead we find words from the root ὁμοφρον-, as in the Iliad, Odyssey, Homeric Hymns, and Hesiod. [32] Herodotus never uses the word, [33] nor does it occur in classical Greek poetry but is limited to prose texts. [34] In reviewing the material on ὁμόνοια, I have found it convenient to divide it into four groups: occurrences that relate to the reconciliation after the regimes of the Four Hundred and the Thirty in Athens; discussions of internal unity and war against the barbarians; treatises on Sparta and the Spartan form of government; and philosophical or political discussions of the significance of concord.

Thucydides uses the word twice. It is first employed (8.75) in the oaths sworn by the Athenian soldiers at Samos in 411 BCE in the attempts of Thrasybulus and Thrasyllus to reconcile the democrats and oligarchs in face of the recent coup of the Four Hundred in Athens. The second use (8.93) relates to the same year, when Athenian hoplites in Piraeus were engaged in building a wall at Eetionia. Since they suspected that it would only serve to help the Four Hundred receive a Spartan fleet, they tore it down and marched on the city to overthrow the Four Hundred. Before reaching the city, however, they were won over by people sent out by the Four Hundred and agreed to hold an assembly on the theme of concord.

Aristotle uses the word with reference to the situation in 403, when the Spartan king Pausanias had facilitated reconciliation between the factions in Athens that had been for and against the rule of the Thirty. The terms of the agreement stipulated that the Thirty repay Sparta separately what they had borrowed for the war, but the Athenians decided to repay the loans from the public funds, since they thought that this was the necessary first step for reconciliation (ἡγούμενοι τοῦτο πρῶτον ἄρχειν δεῖν τῆς ὁμονοίας). [35] This action receives strong approval from Aristotle. [36] Both Isocrates and Demosthenes mention this decision to repay the loans from public money, and they also ascribe it to a desire to promote ὁμόνοια. [37] The events that played out at the end of the fifth century that led up to the amnesty of 403 were later referred to as a praiseworthy example of how internal dissension was turned into concord by the courage and wisdom of the democrats who led the opposition against the Thirty from Piraeus. [38] In this set of examples ὁμόνοια becomes almost synonymous with the reconciliation that took place after the Thirty; this has motivated a number of scholars to conclude that the word arose in response to the fierce factionalism prevalent during the Peloponnesian War. [39] It is interesting to note, however, that Aristotle brings an economic dimension to his use of ὁμόνοια: the decision to repay the debt to Sparta from the public funds initiated the process of concord. The alternative, as Aristotle says in his appraisal of this action, would have been a total redistribution of land by the democrats after they seized power. [40] Economic moderation is a theme that reoccurs with some frequency in our sources on concord, and we will have occasion to revisit it at greater length later in this chapter.

Another important context for ὁμόνοια is the call to unified action on the part of the Greeks against the barbarians. [41] We have already observed that Gorgias in his Olympic Speech encouraged the Greeks to maintain concord among themselves while waging a collective war against the Persians. Lysias also delivered an Olympic Speech, whose synopsis and beginning are preserved in Dionysius of Halicarnassus. [42] In 388, [43] Lysias stood before the collected Greeks at Olympia and encouraged them to dethrone Dionysius, the tyrant of Syracuse, and to liberate Sicily, before Dionysius could join arms with the King of Persia and attack mainland Greece. In the preserved fragment, the word ὁμόνοια itself does not occur. Instead, Lysias pleads that the Greeks put off their wars against each other and, being of a single mind (τῇ δ’ αὐτῇ γνώμῃ χρωμένους), cling to their safety. The wording, at least in the short preserved fragment we possess, is not the same as in Gorgias, but the similarity between the two speeches in name, content (the Greeks must unite against an exterior enemy to survive), and occasion (delivered at the Olympic games), all suggest that Lysias was well aware of his predecessor’s call to concord.

In the beginning of the speech, Lysias tells the story of how Heracles founded the Olympic Games and instituted two kinds of competition, one athletic and one intellectual. The reason why Heracles did this, Lysias goes on to explain, was because of the beneficial effects it would have on the Greeks: Lysias stresses the unifying force of the Olympic Games (and all other Panhellenic games, one may surmise) and, given the result of his call—the audience indeed looted the tents of Dionysius at the games—it seems reasonable to assume that he spoke to well-rooted conceptions of unity and common Greek identity that were cultivated through the institution of the Panhellenic games. That is precisely what makes them the perfect arena for his address of internal unity and external aggression. Herodotus (8.26) gives another example of the unifying force of the Olympic Games. After the battle at Thermopylae, some Arcadians approached the Persians in search of food and employment, and when asked what the Greeks were up to, they responded that they were celebrating the Olympic Games. When asked what the prize (κείμενον) was over which they were competing, they answered that it was a wreath of olive leaves. Upon hearing this, one of the Persians cried out in distress that they had to face men who do not compete for money but honor (οἳ οὐ περὶ χρημάτων τὸν ἀγῶνα ποιεῦνται ἀλλὰ περὶ ἀρετῆς). Herodotus, in addressing a Greek audience, skillfully uses the Persian bewilderment to comment on the formative experience that the celebration of the Olympic Games entails, an experience that in Herodotus’ narrative is so peculiarly Greek so as to be unintelligible to non-Greeks. [45] The conclusion—that Greeks value honor higher than money—leaves little doubt as to the moral messages of the passage: the superiority of the Greek way of life, fostered and promoted at the Panhellenic centers. [46]

Isocrates expresses similar ideas in Panegyricus 3, where he says that he has come as a counselor on the war against the barbarians and on concord among the Athenians. He proceeds by acknowledging that he is aware that many sophists have addressed this theme before him (οὐκ ἀγνοῶν ὅτι πολλοὶ τῶν προσποιησαμένων εἶναι σοφιστῶν ἐπὶ τοῦτον τὸν λόγον ὥρμησαν). Later in the same speech, he explains his rationale for counseling the Athenians to wage an external war while practicing concord among themselves: Isocrates reiterated this theme in a number of speeches throughout his life. When the Athenians and Spartans persevered in their hostilities, he sought the help of other potentates to promote his policy ideas: Jason, the tyrant of Pherae; [48] Dionysius, the tyrant of Sicily; [49] Archidamus, the son of Agesilaus; [50] and finally Philip, the king of Macedon. [51] Demosthenes, too, adopted the theme of concord among the Greeks and aggression against the Persian king. [52]

Michael Flower has sought to trace the origin of such Panhellenic appeals back to the period right after the Persian invasion of Greece and to the policies of Cimon. [53] Such a reorientation would push panhellenism as an idea some seventy years farther back in time than previously thought—many argue that Gorgias was the first to promote it [54] —and it would also shed new light on the sophists’ role in this discourse: instead of originators they are to be seen as one installment in a long tradition that began after the Persian invasions of Greece and ended with the final conquest of Persia by Alexander the Great.

Flower draws mainly on Herodotus as a source to substantiate the existence of a Panhellenic discourse earlier than Gorgias’ Olympic Speech. [55] In Book 5.49.3–9, for example, Herodotus describes how Aristagoras during the Ionian Revolt went to Sparta to persuade Κing Cleomenes to attack Persia. This proposition is historically implausible but, as Flower says, it reveals “the thought patterns and agenda of Herodotus’ own times,” and can help illuminate the concerns discussed in the latter half of the fifth century. [56] If his interpretation is correct, Herodotus adapted the theme of a Persian invasion, relevant to a contemporary audience, and projected it back onto older events. Such displacement is at work in Book 6.84, for example, when Scythian representatives approach Cleomenes to discuss an attack on Persia in revenge for Darius’ attack on Scythia; and this theme is even put into the mouth of Xerxes (7.11) in discussing an invasion of Greece. The options, he says, are either for the Persians to conquer Greece first or to be subjugated by the Greeks. Especially relevant for our discussion of concord is a remark made by some Thebans to Mardonius in Book 9.2 as he was marching on Athens: Similar sentiments are expressed in Book 5.3 regarding the Thracians: But, Herodotus adds, the Thracians are indeed incapable of such unity and are therefore weak (ἀσθενέες). This theme is also touched upon in Book 8.75, when Themistocles secretly sends a messenger over to the Persian fleet to urge them to attack the Greeks, since they, not practicing concord (οὔτε γὰρ ἀλλήλοισι ὁμοφρονέουσι), would put up no resistance. Finally, in Book 8.3, Herodotus gives the reason why the Athenians did not clash over the command of the fleet in 480; they were concerned about the survival of Greece (μέγα πεποιημένοι περιεῖναι τὴν Ἑλλάδα) and realized that, if they were to quarrel over the command, Greece would surely be lost. Herodotus approves of their reasoning with the comment that: In the Histories we can detect a clear preoccupation with the idea of invading Persia, a preoccupation addressed to a contemporary audience. Further, the theme of internal concord is intrinsically linked to external aggression. War is even described as bringing about concord (πολέμου ὁμοφρονέοντος). Stasis, on the other hand, generates weakness. This typology fits well with our findings on ὁμόνοια. There, too, we see the juxtaposition of stasis and concord, debilitation and prosperity. Although it is possible to discern thematic similarities between the two contexts, Herodotus never uses the word ὁμόνοια, instead favoring ὁμοφρονέειν and other periphrastic locutions, such as φρονέειν κατὰ τὠυτό.

If the appeals to concord in Herodotus address contemporary concerns rather than chronicling historical realities, whose concerns were they and with whom did they originate? Flower argues persuasively that they date back to the policies championed by Cimon: [57] “There is only one person whom we know of whose policy was Panhellenic in the sense of waging incessant war on the possessions of the king of Persia and who was simultaneously well-disposed towards cooperating with Sparta, and that was Cimon, the son of Miltiades.” [58] This was a theme that gained traction under Cimon and regained popularity during the deteriorating conditions during the second half of the Peloponnesian War.

Yet another significant context for the language of ὁμόνοια is discussions centering on the city and lifestyle of the Spartans. [59] Already in the sources on the elusive lawgiver Lycurgus we find an oracular response by the Pythia on this theme, quoted earlier (Diodorus Siculus 7.12.2). This theme recurs in a number of sources and authors. Isocrates, for example, in the Archidamus (65–67), a speech placed in the mouth of the Spartan king, tells how the allies who defected from the Spartans have lost the concord (ὁμόνοια) they formerly held under Spartan rule and now experience civil strife (στάσις) in its stead. The situation has become so bad among the allies that the rich would rather throw their property into the ocean than assist the needy, and the needy would be less inclined to earn money for themselves than to seize the wealth of the rich. [60] Isocrates touches on the importance of economic redistribution—for the rich to assist the needy—as a precondition for concord; once this agreement is broken, concord is also lost. We shall return later to this relationship and see how it is featured in our sources.

In the Panathenaicus (177), Isocrates again focuses on the elevated status concord held in Sparta. He writes that after the Dorian invasion the members of the third tribe, the Lacedaemonians, were engaged in civil strife like none of the other Greeks (στασιάσαι … ὡς οὐδένας ἄλλους τῶν Ἑλλήνων). After the oligarchs got control, however, they set up a constitution that produced total concord among them. They instituted radical equality among themselves and excluded the rest of the population from having a share in it. [61] Isocrates condemns this setup and compares it to the ways of pirates. [62] He then falls into a dialogue with one of his former pupils, the panegyrist of the Lacedaemonians, who returns to the theme of concord and elaborates on the positive effects it has on Spartan society: Xenophon also discusses concord in relation to Sparta, and puts it into the mouth of Pericles, the son of Pericles, to complain about the degenerate ways of the Athenians. Pericles asks when the Athenians will learn from the Spartans and adopt their observance of concord (ὁμονοήσουσιν). As things stand, he says, the Athenians’ lack of concord has enabled evil and cowardice to take root in the city, and much enmity and mutual hatred exists among the citizens. [64] Polybius reports that Ephorus discussed Sparta (6.45.1) and says that he highly praised the political prudence of Lycurgus: Strabo (10.4.16) also quotes Ephorus as discussing concord, but includes the passage in his treatment of Crete. Since the account is so close to the one in Polybius, however, it seems reasonable to assume that it is derived from the same source (presumably Ephorus’ Histories). Strabo (10.4.17) makes it clear that Ephorus thought that most Spartan institutions originated in Crete and that the two states were fundamentally similar. Polybius (6.46.10) protests that Ephorus actually describes Crete and Sparta in identical language, despite their many differences, and that it is almost impossible to know which one he is talking about unless paying close attention to proper names. [66] It is not surprising, then, if Strabo, perhaps mistakenly, included the discussion of concord in his treatment of Crete rather than Sparta. We will thus include Strabo’s Ephorus quotation as another illustrative example of the close thematic connection between concord and Sparta. Ephorus makes the point that for concord to prevail, dissension, which is fueled by greed and luxury, must first be removed. [67]

Polybius himself also praises Lycurgus for instituting concord in Sparta: In the next paragraph he explains the preconditions for Spartan concord: equal possession of property (ἡ μὲν γὰρ περὶ τὰς κτήσεις ἰσότης) and a simple and common diet.

Plutarch relates how Lycurgus went to Crete and studied under Thaletas who, says Plutarch, disguised himself as a lyric poet, but really was an accomplished lawgiver. [69] His poems were exhortations to obedience (εὐπείθεια) and concord (ὁμόνοια); all who listened to them grew milder in their temperaments and moved away from their earlier enmity (κακοθυμία) and lived instead together in pursuit of the good (τὰ καλά). [70]

In this set of examples, we again encounter the connection between economic distribution and concord. Only when greed and luxury (πλεονεξία καὶ τρύφη) are removed is it possible to achieve harmony. In practical terms this is reflected in equal possession of property and dietary regulations, all of which was accomplished under the auspices of Lycurgus’ legislative reforms. But equally strong is the link between legislative reforms and the practical realization of concord, which places concord within the domain of the capable sage and lawgiver. The traditions surrounding Lycurgus—about whom we know close to nothing for certain [71] —link him with both the Delphic oracle, where he was supposed to have received divine sanctification for his laws, and with Thaletas, under whose guidance he studied. Aristotle refers to Thaletas in his discussion of early lawgivers and mentions that some say that he was the pupil of Onomacritus, the first person to be skilled in legislation, and that both Lycurgus and Zaleucus studied under him in Crete. [72] Thaletas was also supposed to have been advised by the Delphic oracle to visit Sparta and to purify it from a plague with his music, [73] to which we shall return later. We shall also have more to say about the relationship between concord and legislative expertise.

The last and fourth set of examples of concord sort under the rubric of philosophical and political treatises, since they all occur in theoretical discussions on society and government.

Democritus is our first source:

When concord is achieved, Democritus says, the polis can truly perform extraordinary deeds: Archytas expresses similar sentiments regarding concord and its impact on society: Archytas contrasts concord with civil strife, which prevents the smooth operation of society. Democritus likewise describes the detrimental effects of civil strife in fragment 249: Archytas affirms that correct reckoning (λογισμός), presumably his own Pythagorean philosophy, [77] has the capacity to remove civil strife and enhance concord. This seems to be one of the most efficacious qualities of his wisdom, at least as far as society is concerned. Democritus describes both the benefits of concord and the destructive effects of civil strife, but he does not explicitly elaborate on his own role in promoting the one and avoiding the other. It would seem reasonable to assume, however, that his reflections on στάσις and ὁμόνοια are anchored, one way or another, in his own philosophy, although that relation is not clearly fleshed out in the preserved fragments.

Xenophon ascribes to Socrates a discussion of the social effects of concord:

It is of particular interest that Socrates’ interlocutor here is the sophist Hippias of Elis, since he is one of the sophists whose preserved work bears no trace of the use of the word concord. This passage allows us to link him to this discourse. [79] It is also significant that Socrates and Hippias in the preceding paragraph discuss Sparta and the lawful behavior that Lycurgus accomplished by enacting his legislative reform. This situates their discussion of concord within the framework of lawgiving and constitutional reform, just as was the case with the narratives around Lycurgus. The interconnectedness of concord and economic distribution—as stressed by Aristotle, Isocrates, Demosthenes, Democritus, and Archytas [80] —lends additional support to the legislative context for this discourse.

All four examples above discuss concord as a phenomenon common to the whole of Greece (αἱ πόλεις, πανταχοῦ ἐν τῇ Ἑλλάδι, etc.) and assume that its implementation is a concern for every community. The Panhellenic point of view these texts espouse, that is, that civil strife is a universal threat and concord a benefit to every polis, belies the understanding of concord as an exclusively Athenian concern, emerging first in the late fifth century BCE. Our sources clearly characterize concord as a preoccupation for all Greek poleis without precise historical framework.

The discussion up to this point has introduced a variety of authors who discuss the merits of concord in a variety of contexts. This range of contexts is another reason why we might question how Athenian this theme was. Should we not allow for the possibility that it had applications elsewhere (Olympia, for example, or Sparta)? Further, by pursuing a strictly philological investigation concerned exclusively with the employment of a single word and ignoring the broader thematic typology, do we not run the danger of divesting concord of the force and meaning that it had acquired over time? In what follows we shall attempt to outline what such a broader typology might entail, and we shall pay particular attention to the sophists’ historical predecessors in promoting concord.

In their discussion on concord Schmid and Stählin note that it was no new theme to Greek thought, but a topic that had long been relevant to wise men. [81] They give as an example the actions of Thales, who urged the Ionian city-states to establish a council (βουλευτήριον) common for all the Ionians in an attempt to unite them in the face of the Persian threat. [82] But this is far from the only occurrence of political intervention performed by sophoi. Upon closer scrutiny, we shall find this to be a common theme.

Apart from his suggestion of creating a common council for all the Ionians, Thales is also said to have given excellent political advice to his city. He aborted Croesus’ attempt to create a political alliance between Miletus and the Lydians, and this proved the city’s salvation when Cyrus was victorious. [83] Herodotus (1.170) relates how Bias of Priene, at the onslaught of the Persians, advised the Ionians at a pan-Ionic gathering to go together to Sardinia and found a new city for all the Ionians (πόλιν μίαν κτίζειν πάντων Ἰώνων). Empedocles’ father seems to have been an important figure in turning Acragas into a democracy after the expulsion of the tyrant Thrasydaeus, and when, after the father’s death, despotic tendencies once again arose: Diogenes Laertius relates another incident where Empedocles spoke against the public funding of a memorial of one of the city’s most famous physicians, and he did so “discoursing about equality” (περὶ ἰσότητος διαλεχθείς). [85] We also hear that he broke up an oligarchic assembly called the Thousand in favor of the democracy, and that he saved the people of Selinus from pestilence by bringing two neighboring rivers to cleanse their city. [86]

In these examples, both Thales and Empedocles are represented as promoting the well-being of their poleis by directly intervening in the political issues of the day. Thales first sought to unify all the Ionians against the Persians, and he then encouraged Miletus to resist the invitations from the Lydians. This amounts to an external as well as internal solidification of Miletus. Empedocles’ goal, likewise, seems to have been to prevent civil discord, and this he did by speaking out against the factionalism practiced by the citizens and by promoting reconciliation among the various groups. Empedocles’ intervention (παύσασθαι μὲν τῶν στάσεων) echoes the words of Archytas (στάσιν μὲν ἔπαυσεν), who affirmed the potentially salutary power of his “correct reckoning.” This echo is also carried over into Empedocles’ discussion on equality (ἰσότης); [87] Archytas also refers to equality (τὸ ἶσον, ἰσότας) as the actualized ideal when the citizens practice concord. This theme is also evident in Democritus, who says that equality is best in everything (καλὸν ἐν παντὶ τὸ ἶσον), [88] and Phaleas of Chalcedon who, according to Aristotle, had much to say about equality: [89] In connection to this passage, Aristotle mentions that the equalization of property (ἡ τῆς οὐσίας ὁμαλότης) was an important theme even for some of the older generation of sophoi, and he goes on to mention the legislation of Solon as an example of this. [91] In fragment 4 (West), Solon says that his polis is being destroyed, not by the gods, but by the greed of its citizens (αὐτοὶ δὲ φθείρειν μεγάλην πόλιν ἀφραδίῃσιν ἀστοὶ βούλονται χρήμασι πειθόμενοι, 5–6). [92] The reason for this, he continues, is that they do not know how to check their insatiable greed (κατέχειν κόρον, 9) or to enjoy the present happiness in the peace of the feast (παρούσας εὐφροσύνας κοσμεῖν δαιτὸς ἐν ἡσυχίῃ, 9–10). This leads to slavery which, in turn, stirs up civil strife and war from its sleep (ἣ [δουλοσύνη] στάσιν ἔμφυλον πόλεμόν θ’ εὕδοντ’ ἐπεγείρει, 19). Such a development has disastrous consequences for the city with killings, people sold into slavery, and other evils. The remedy to all this is good order (Εὐνομίη, 32). [93] It ends greed (παύει κόρον, 34), civil strife (παύει δ’ ἔργα διχοστασίης, 37), and the anger of painful strife (παύει δ’ ἀργαλέης ἔριδος χόλον, 38).

The poetry of Solon resonates remarkably well with our sources on concord. Solon’s emphasis on greed as a socially destructive force (also in 6.3 τίκτει γὰρ κόρος ὕβριν; and 13.71 πλούτου δ’ οὐδὲν τέρμα πεφασμένον ἀνδράσι κεῖται) is echoed in our sources on Lycurgus (πλεονεξία καὶ τρυφή), Archytas (πλεονεξία), and Democritus (πλεονεξία). Aristotle, too, is sympathetic to this line of thinking and discusses the detrimental effect of greed at some length in the Politics. There, however, he underlines that equalization of property can only have a limited effect on preventing citizens from engaging in civil conflicts. The real problem is not social inequality, but greed: Our sources thus seem to agree about the ubiquitous and detrimental effects of greed and on the importance of checking this impulse.

Civil strife (στάσις) is portrayed as the direct result of unchecked greed. Note the verbal echo between Solon (στάσιν ἔμφυλον) and Democritus (ἐμφύλιος στάσις). Civil strife is consistently described as the antithesis to concord. In Solon, this is expressed through Εὐνομίη and ἡσυχίη. It was the citizens’ incapacity to enjoy happiness in festive peace (ἡσυχίη) that started civil strife, and this sentiment is repeated in 4c (West), where Solon exhorts the rich to moderation (ὑμεῖς δ’ ἡσυχάσαντες ἐνὶ φρεσὶ καρτερὸν ἦτορ, 1). In Solon, ἡσυχίη is characterized as the opposite of στάσις, and to achieve this goal one must practice Εὐνομίη, which ends civil strife (παύει δ’ ἔργα διχοστασίης). [95] By the time of Euripides, this promise to bring a society from the brink of civil war to harmony had become such an axiom that he could write that removal of civil strife was the activity par excellence of the wise man, and that they deserved a good reward for their services: Solon, then, uses εὐνομίη and ἡσυχίη much in the same sense as we have seen ὁμόνοια being used by others. Democritus and Archytas, in turn, employ ἴσον almost interchangeably with ὁμόνοια. Phaleas of Chalcedon champions the notion of equal property as a means of avoiding civil strife, and such policy is attributed to Lycurgus by Polybius, who writes that the precondition for the Lacedaemonian concord was equality of property. We have also seen similar sentiments regarding equalization of property expressed in Aristotle, Isocrates, Demosthenes, Democritus, Archytas, and Xenophon, and Aristotle saw this as fundamental to Solon’s legislative reform.

The connection that Aristotle makes between Solon and equalization of property alerts us to another feature of concord: it is through the introduction of new laws that both Lycurgus and Solon removed στάσις and promoted concord (ὁμόνοια and εὐνομίη). But legislative expertise seems to be a feature that sets Lycurgus and Solon apart from other promoters of concord, such as the Presocratic philosophers and the sophists. We shall turn to these two groups of sophoi later to explore traces of legal expertise in their source material. Before doing this, however, there is another aspect of the fluidity of traditions we have not explored. We have considerable evidence of musical and choral interventions by poets that led to the suspension of civil discord and promotion of harmony. We shall next consider this tradition.

Terpander’s successful involvement at Sparta is chronicled in the Suda:

In this poetic material we are again reminded of the thematic relationship between civil strife and good governance by the astute interventions of sophoi. [103] The poets act in their capacity as sophoi and their effects on the citizens are described as analogous to those of the lawgivers. [104] The material on Terpander, Thaletas, and Stesichorus, then, should caution us against adopting a narrow view on the Greek wisdom tradition. In this material, there are no clear demarcations that separate practitioners of wisdom along the lines of philosophy, poetry, and law. I agree with Nightingale that philosophy as a distinct discipline was first fully developed by Plato; it would be anachronistic to apply his definitions and categories to the earlier sophoi. [105] Now having considered this poetic material, we shall return to the Presocratics and the sophists to investigate the extent to which the source material exhibits any signs of legal expertise on their part.

First, let us look at the material surrounding the sophists. It is reported that Gorgias was sent as the chief ambassador (ἀρχιπρεσβευτής) by his own city to Athens to ask for help, since the people of Leontini at that time were involved in a war with the Syracusans. [106] Protagoras, we are told, wrote the laws for the new colony Thurii that was founded in 444/3 BCE (Θουρίοις νόμους γράψαι). [107] Hippias of Elis is said to have made quite a name for himself on diplomatic missions throughout Greece and was apparently even granted several honorary citizenships. Philostratus writes that he went on more embassies on behalf of Elis than any other Greek (πλεῖστα δὲ Ἑλλήνων πρεσβεύσας ὑπὲρ τῆς Ἤλιδος) and that he maintained his reputation (δόξαν) while fulfilling his missions. He also made a lot of money (χρήματα πλεῖστα ἐξέλεξε) and was enrolled in the tribes of both large and small poleis (φυλαῖς ἐνεγράφη πόλεων μικρῶν τε καὶ μειζόνων). [108] When asked by Socrates in the Hippias Major why he has been away from Athens so long, he answers:

From this list we can conclude that some of the sophists were highly regarded in their own as well as other poleis for their legal and diplomatic expertise. It seems safe to assume that they owed much of their authority precisely to their ability to perform successful mediations in inter-poleis disputes. Read together with their promotion of concord, the sophists exhibit analogies in practices with Solon and Lycurgus. Like them, their reputation for wisdom paved the way for their involvement in legal and diplomatic activities aimed at curbing civil strife and promoting concord. But are those analogies merely coincidental, or are they revealing of qualities typically associated with early Greek sophoi in their roles as publicly sanctioned mediators and legal experts? To attempt to address that question, we shall briefly review the legal involvement and expertise of the Presocratics.

Diogenes Laertius gives us three accounts regarding this topic. He first reports that Pythagoras left his native Samos to go to Croton, at that time the leading colony in southern Italy. There he is said to have given the Italians a constitution (νόμους θεὶς τοῖς Ἰταλιώταις). [111] Second, Parmenides is said to have served his citizens as a legislator (λέγεται δὲ καὶ νόμους θεῖναι τοῖς πολίταις). [112] Finally, Heraclitus was deemed worthy of granting legislation by his citizens, but showed contempt for the laws on the grounds that the city was already dominated by a bad constitution (ἀξιούμενος δὲ καὶ νόμους θεῖναι πρὸς αὐτῶν ὑπερεῖδε διὰ τὸ ἤδη κεκρατῆσθαι τῇ πονηρᾷ πολιτείᾳ τὴν πόλιν). [113]

There thus existed a tradition in antiquity that at least some of the Presocratics were involved in drawing up laws for their poleis. We have already seen that some of them were involved in acts of political mediation, as promoters of concord. This pattern shows affinities with the traditions about the two lawgivers Lycurgus and Solon, but also with the activities of the sophists. Taken together, these traditions shed new light on the sophists. Instead of being seen as the first promoters of concord they are now located in a traditional discourse that dates back at least to the early lawgivers. It is by drawing on this continuity in practices, one may assume, that the sophists could claim authority and present themselves as ideal conveyors of concord.

But let us return to the early lawgivers and investigate what we know about their activities. Dissatisfied with the direction in scholarship that distinguishes between historical traditions of the early lawgivers and purely legendary ones, [114] Andrew Szegedy-Maszak has adopted an approach that outlines a typology of the lawgivers as portrayed in our sources, thus taking seriously the cultural attitudes and representations surrounding these figures. [115] The material presents us with a coherent picture of a movement from anomia (lawlessness) to eunomia (good order). In the sources, the intervention of the lawgiver is a process consisting of three stages. The first phase is characterized by a crisis, often identified with stasis and civil war. In the next phase, the lawgiver appears and manages to settle the conflict through his authority and wisdom. The success of the intervention is predicated on the lawgiver’s expertise, determined in no small degree by his education, which is described as being acquired in two, often connected ways: “extensive travel and study with one of the great philosophers.” [116] Finally, when the new laws are implemented, the lawgiver typically removes himself from the polis so as not to interfere with the supremacy of the laws.

Two things are of special interest to us in this typology. First, the interventions of the lawgivers are often introduced in reference to a social crisis, and the word στάσις is used to portray this crisis. [117] This is familiar territory for us from our survey of the material on ὁμόνοια. There is a close affinity between ὁμόνοια and στάσις, and the qualifications of the proponent of concord seem only to be fully appreciated when discussed against the backdrop of civil strife. This framing highlights the relevance of the intervention and simultaneously brings into focus the lawgiver’s unique capacity to turn the present turmoil into unanimity. We appear to be dealing with a topos, where measures to promote the well-being of a community (a new law code, legislative reform, call to concord, etc.) were carefully framed within the context of social strife. If this is right, the frequent appeals to στάσις in our material on the sophists take on a different light. We no longer have to assume that they always respond to historical realities. [118] Instead, the appeals to στάσις can be understood as a reference to a traditional discourse and a sign of the proponent’s indebtedness to this tradition. In other words, we should take seriously the representational value of στάσις—how it is frequently used as foil to introduce and make relevant the succeeding discourse on concord—without necessarily inferring from this that it directly responds to, or is motivated by, an actual civil war.

The second feature of relevance is the description of the education of the lawgivers: travel and instruction from a sophos. This again resonates with what we have seen in connection with the sophists. One of their most recognizable features is their itinerant status, and we will discuss this at greater length in the next chapter. For now, however, it is sufficient to highlight the connection between lawgivers and philosophers, especially the fact that instruction from philosophers was a valued commodity to bring into the arena of legislative reforms. Szegedy-Maszak mentions Thales and Pythagoras as two philosophers who were especially suited to instruct lawgivers, since “both were known to have performed as practicing statesmen.” [119] But these are not the only philosophers involved in legislative activities, as our survey has brought to light. This is where I think the typology of Szegedy-Maszak is too schematic: it downplays the overlaps that existed between philosophers and lawgivers and so overlooks various instances when philosophers are engaged in legal activities. It strives for a precise taxonomy of sophoi but is not sufficiently sensitive to the resistance of the material to such divisions. In fact, it makes little sense to draw up too distinct borders between the various groups of sophoi. It is perhaps more productive to focus on the underlying authority that lends legitimacy to their practices, and to that extent Szegedy-Maszak’s analysis is valuable, since it invites us to pursue such an investigation.

We have thus seen how legal expertise, acts of mediation, and the reversal of the political fortunes of the community from anomia to eunomia constitute key facets of the ideological motivations for the practitioners of wisdom, and we have also outlined how this theme goes all the way back to the Presocratics and the early lawgivers, including such figures as Solon and Thales. Another significant connection in this context is that both Solon and Thales were thought of as members of the Seven Sages. Next we shall turn our attention to this group of sophoi in search for further clues—in addition to the material we have already explored on Solon and Thales—of the relationship between the Seven Sages and the theme of mediation and concord explored thus far. [120]

When discussing the Seven Sages, Diogenes Laertius refers to the opinion of Dicaearchus: He continues by saying that some say that they met both at the Pan-Ionian festival and at Corinth and Delphi (ἐν Πανιωνίῳ καὶ ἐν Κορίνθῳ καὶ εν Δελφοῖς συνελθεῖν αὐτούς). According to Aristotle, Pittacus, one of the Seven Sages, [122] was appointed an arbitrator (αἰσυμνήτης) for ten years, and he was involved in overthrowing Melanchrus, the tyrant of Lesbos. [123] Diogenes Laertius emphasizes his legal expertise and refers to his laws (νόμους δὲ ἔθηκε), [124] as do Aristotle (νόμων δημιουργός) and Diodorus (νομοθέτης τε γὰρ ἀγαθός). [125] As has been widely recognized, his legislation was less sweeping than the constitutional reforms of Lycurgus and Solon, [126] but it was substantial enough to earn him a reputation for wisdom and a place among the early lawgivers. [127] But Diodorus adds an interesting piece of information. In the same sentences where he relates Pittacus’ fame as legislator he writes that he removed from his fatherland three of the greatest afflictions: tyranny, civil strife, and war (τὴν πατρίδα τριῶν τῶν μεγίστων συμφορῶν ἀπέλυσε, τυραννίδος, στάσεως, πολέμου). Diodorus here stresses the connection between Pittacus’ ability as a lawgiver and his capacity to free the state from war and tyranny. In the next paragraph (9.12) he tells how, after Pittacus conquered Phrynon in single combat and procured victory for Mytilene over Athens, the Mytileneans wanted to give Pittacus half of the land they had gained through his victory. [128] But he declined the offer. Diodorus continues: This passage resonates well with the material discussed above: Pittacus, through his wisdom—he was one of the Seven—keeps stasis in check. [129] By not giving in to greed (πλεονεξία), which generates stasis, but by upholding equality (τὸ ἴσον, ἰσότης), he procures a well-governed and prosperous state for the Mytileneans. Compare this to Archytas’ view, quoted above. He argues that his particular branch of sophia (λογισμός) is ideally suited to restore a society torn by civil conflicts to a state of unity and accord. It is significant that in outlining the positive effects of his interventions he appears to make little distinction between τὸ ἶσον/ἰσότας and ὁμόνοια. This semantic coupling—especially when understood against the thematic backdrop of greed and civil strife—strengthens the connection between the accounts of Pittacus and Lycurgus, where τὸ ἴσον and ἰσότης are employed as the ideal state in the former, and ὁμόνοια in the latter. [130] In other words, τὸ ἴσον/ἰσότης and ὁμόνοια fulfill similar functions as the intellectual antidote to greed and civil strife.

Bias, also one of the Seven Sages, [131] was known for his success in arguing legal cases, [132] and he was sent on a diplomatic mission (πρεσβεύσας) to solve a dispute over borders between Priene and Samos. [133] Lysimachus mentions this mission in a letter to the Samians, where he writes that Bias was sent by the people of Priene to Samos as an ambassador with full powers (αὐτοκράτωρ) to negotiate peace between them (περὶ διαλύσεων). [134] Periander is said to have arbitrated between Pittacus’ Mytilene and Athens after the Sigean War, [135] and Aristotle mentions that he was engaged as a witness in a dispute between Tenedos and Sigeion. [136]

In our sources on sophia, the Seven Sages constitute the beginning of the Greek wisdom tradition—the functional predecessors to the Presocratics and later sophoi. It is significant that many of the practices associated with later sophoi—such as legislative involvement, political mediation, and gravitation to the Panhellenic festivals—figure already in our sources on the Sages. If we are right in emphasizing the theme of the wise man as an ideal purveyor of concord and the corollary cancellation of stasis, it seems possible to establish a genealogy of intellectual practices—at least with respect to concord—that commences with the Seven Sages and includes the sophists. This genealogy, in turn, unites different groups of sophoi that are typically thought of as qualitatively different or even mutually incompatible, such as poets, the Seven Sages, lawgivers, Presocratics, and sophists.

These practices seem to have taken place on a Panhellenic stage and gone well beyond individual poleis. The insistence that the sophistic movement was triggered by needs internal to Athens, as some scholars have argued, does not take into account the precedence and Panhellenic scope that the discourse on concord displays. If we pay attention to this genealogyof practices, it seems reasonable to suggest that, while there are significant differences among the different sophoi surveyed—geographical, temporal, and intellectual—there are nevertheless compelling thematic continuities that help account for the cultural authority that later sophoi could claim for themselves. It is against the backdrop of these intellectual continuities that I suggest we understand the sophists.

Stasis and civic turmoil become the rhetorical triggers, as it were, for sophoi in their appeals to a civic context for the significance and application of their sophia. They exert their sophia by directly inserting themselves into the political sphere of the polis. This civic involvement contradicts Plato’s assertion in the Hippias Major (281c) that philosophers of old—“Pittacus, and Bias, and Milesian Thales and his followers, and also the later ones up to Anaxagoras”—refrained from participating in politics. [137] Indeed, Plato’s efforts to characterize philosophers as distanced from politics and dedicated to the contemplative life—ὁ βίος θεωρητικός—appear questionable when viewed against the concord/equality tradition, where the lines are not so clearly drawn between philosophy and politics, and where practitioners of wisdom find the civic sphere a perfectly fertile avenue for their sophia. [138]

This chapter, then, is an attempt to bring out the permeability in the categories of sophoi. As a corollary, we need to look for alternate explanations for the impetus of the sophistic movement. It will no longer be sufficient to approach the sophists as qualitatively different from the Presocratics, and to assume that these divisions will be reflected one way or another in their thinking. If we no longer can trace the origin of the sophistic movement exclusively to Athens but to intellectual developments throughout Greece, and if we can attest significant areas of continuity among sophoi, then it seems reasonable that we take these findings into consideration when trying to account for their intellectual practices.

I hope to have shown in this chapter that there existed precedents for the sophists to draw on in the concord discourse. We shall continue this exploration of continuity in the next chapters. At this point, however, we need to consider the particularity of the sophists’ use of ὁμόνοια. More specifically, why did they choose to adopt this word instead of earlier expressions, such as τὸ ἴσον, ἡσυχία, εὐνομία, ὁμοφρονέω, and what was the cultural significance of this choice?

I have argued at length that the claims of Kramer and Romilly—that the sophists were the first to use the word ὁμόνοια and that it directly related to the political turmoil at the end of the fifth century BCE—do not adequately address the tradition of similar activities on the part of the sophists’ predecessors. The invocation of concord was almost always legitimized by the threat of stasis, civil strife. This is not to say that the threat of stasis was not present or real at each occasion when the appeals to concord were made, only that this was a topos that the sophoi could (and often did) tap into in order to validate their own interventions.

The field of wisdom was agonistic, as we shall consider more fully in chapter six. Sophoi participated in competitive behavior to outperform each other and to achieve preeminent positions for themselves. In this agonistic climate, fierce competition induced individual practitioners to push for distinctions among themselves, and the coinage of new words was one aspect of such behavior. This, I argue, is what precipitated the adoption of the word ὁμόνοια. While the traditional typology of the avoidance of stasis and implementation of concord was still maintained—as well as the traditional ways to achieve this, such as warfare against the barbarians, redistribution of wealth, and new legislation—the terminology to describe this typology changed.

Given that our material is so meager, however, it is very difficult to evaluate the precise cultural significance in this shift in diction. But the choice to avoid older words and to coin new ones presumably signifies more than mere verbal distinctions. It entailed agonistic stabs at earlier proponents and attempts at unabashed self-promotion. In some cases, however, such as Archytas, the old and the new diction are used hand in hand, almost interchangeably.

As far as the early uses of concord are concerned—particularly with respect to Heraclitus and the Delphic Oracle—Romilly’s conclusion that ὁμόνοια was a term that was projected back onto earlier times anachronistically seems sound. What is significant with these occurrences, however, is that they reinforce the idea of a thematic link between concord and wisdom, a link so strong that it later led Plutarch to use the word ὁμόνοια to describe the activities of Heraclitus. Ὁμόνοια had thus become synonymous with the long history of intellectual practices performed by sophoi, a tradition in which Heraclitus was seen as a natural participant.