During the Peloponnesian War Sparta’s enemies allegedly joked
that it was no wonder the Spartans were willing to die in battle -- because no
one would have liked to live the way
they did. Aside from the fact that these commentators probably knew very little
about the way Spartans actually lived, the assumption is that lack of luxury
and the pervasive deprivation to which Spartans were condemned by their laws made
them unhappy men. Yet Xenophon, a noted
Laconophile who lived and campaigned with Spartans for decades, argued the
other way around: that precisely because
the Spartans learned to get along with very little, they were actually
happier.
The view west from Sparta to Taygetos -- a good reason to for good spirits!
Certainly modern efforts to
measure happiness have produced various indexes which prove that there is no
direct correlation between wealth and happiness. Unscientifically, I would add
that in my personal experience the Nigerians surrounded by corruption,
pollution and collapsing infrastructures are much happier and have a greater
joie de vivre than do the Norwegians – a people with one of the highest standards
of living and one of the most equitable and developed societies on earth.
Without getting too deeply into the philosophical topic of
what constitutes happiness, I would like to suggest that happiness has less to
do with objective circumstances and more to do with a state of mind – i.e.
attitude rather than possessions. We all know that whether a glass is described
as half empty or half full depends on whether the observer is a pessimist or an
optimist, but as my father pointed out: the optimist and the pessimist are both
wrong – but the optimist is happier.
When outsiders looked at Spartiate society and (based on
what they knew) decided such a life wasn’t worth living, they may indeed have
accurately described how they would have felt if forced to live the way the
Spartans did. However, they tell us nothing about the way the Spartans themselves felt. They are describing Spartan society
as “half empty” – but that is not necessarily the way the Spartans saw it. The
historian has to look beyond the opinion of outsiders and search for hints
about Spartans attitudes toward their society.
Returning to the opening comment, I would argue that, in
fact, men are very rarely willing to die for something they don’t think work
preserving. Troops notoriously break, run and surrender when they have lost faith in what they are fighting
for. If Spartan rankers thought that their way of life wasn’t worth living,
then they would have welcomed defeat as a way of introducing revolution and
constitutional reform. Indeed, if young Spartans thought the Spartan way of
life was so abdominal that it was better to die than live as they were supposed
to live, then idealistic young Spartans would have deserted to the Athenian
side, helped defeat the oppressive regime they hated, and introduced
Athenian-style democracy. In short, witty as the Athenian joke is – and it made
me laugh out loud – it does not describe the Spartan frame of mind.
So how do we come closer to the Spartan attitude toward
life? What made Spartans willing to die for Sparta? Was it really just a
mindless fear of showing fear? A fanatical devotion to a code of honor? Or was
Xenophon on the right track when he suggested that the Spartans learned to
enjoy life – and love it better – by learning self-control and restraint?
As evidence of a certain, if not joie de vivre, at least contentment,
I would like to first draw attention to those pieces of Spartan art that we
have to date uncovered. Unlike the art of some warlike cultures (notably the
Aztecs), Spartan art depicts many peaceful scenes: farm animals, lions and
mythical beasts, bulls and horses (lots of horses!), riders with and without hunting
dogs, chariots with horses and charioteers, girls running, married couples
side-by-side, a king watching the correct weighing of goods for export, youths
and maidens and hoplites, lots of hoplites. It is notable that the facial
expressions on the human figures are uniformly benign. A convention certainly,
but I would argue that a society that rarely smiled would not have
conventionalized the smile as the
expression in its art.
As a witness to Sparta’s love of life I would also like to
call Sparta’s most famous philosopher, Chilon. According to a variety of
ancient sources, Chilon was the origin of the quintessential laconic advice
“Know Thyself” – inscribed in the forecourt to the Temple of Apollo at Delphi.
Maria Papadopoulos points out in her contribution to “Sparta: A city-state of
Philosophers: Lycurgus in Montaigne’s essais” (Sparta: Journal of Ancient
Spartan and Greek History, Vol. 7, No. 1, July 2011), however, that this
expression is a condensation (laconic interpretation!) of the longer command from Apollo to “know that
you are not a God, know that you are mortal, know that the finitude called
death is an irreducible component of life. Live accordingly.” If Papadopoulos is correct, then Chilon’s admonishment
to “know thyself” was not so much advice to know one’s own abilities and
limitations, but advice to live each day in anticipation of death – which is
much the same thing as “Carpe Diem”—usually translated as “use each day.” Arguably
“using” each day is not the same as enjoying each day, and yet as Papadopoulos
goes on to note: “The ancient Spartans trained hard but they enjoyed themselves
[too]: feasts, dancing and singing, creative imagination and satirical banter
and a temple dedicated to the God of Laughter….”
Combined I think these fragments of evidence suggest that
the Spartans themselves did not find their lifestyle so burdensome and
certainly not intolerable. The “deprivations” and hard work that strangers
found so depressing were in contrast of little importance in a society that
learned to love life itself in full consciousness of its transience. A man who keeps in mind the alternative
(death) loves even the simplest things in life.
This, I postulate, was the secret of Sparta’s love of life.
