Some Kleros More Equal than Others: An Excerpt

At the start of the month I talked about the Spartan land reform, an effort to ensure every Spartan citizen had enough land to ensure his independence, i.e. his ability to devote himself to the profession of arms. Each kleros had to sufficient produce for 50% of the harvest to pay the citizen's contribution to his syssitia and the agoge fees for any sons he had.  But while every Spartiate had a kleros, many had more than a kleros, and, as this excerpt underlines, not all kleros were equally productive -- and much depended on the ability of a man's wife to manage his estate effectively.

They left by the back door and went along the path behind the kennels and stables toward the rushing stream. The ruins of the mill were still charred and ominous amidst chestnut trees that, despite the fire which had shorn them nearly two years ago, were now sprouting buds. "Aren't you going to rebuild?" Agesandros asked, nodding to the ruins.

"I don't know. I can't afford to right now. Maybe I'll let someone else rebuild.  Orsippos came to me the other day and says he knows a man who'd be willing to rebuild at his own expense if I give him a 10% discount on the subsequent rents. That would be a very good deal for him, of course." Alethea cast Agesandros a little, bemused smile. "He'd be able to pay off his investment in five years or so, and be perpetually better off thereafter. I hesitate to make such a bad deal on Niko's behalf -- even if it means going without the mill income for another couple of years."

Agesandros looked at her sidelong. She spoke of these economic considerations with a self-assurance he would not have had -- not to mention his mother or sister. ...

He focused his thoughts on the present again by focusing on the mill ruins and was reminded of what his own kleros was like. There was no mill there to supplement his income. Nor were there any orchards or vineyards. The old resentments filled him for a moment, but he did not want to resent Alethea. He was tired of being bitter.

Alethea noted his change of mood, but she hesitated to ask what was wrong.

Agesandros pulled himself together, nodding shortly at the mill again to remark in as neutral a tone as he could manage, "my father got a piece of bad land cut out of a large estate without even a house on it -- much less a mill. It was pastureland on a steep incline. We've had to terrace it stone-by-stone to make it support barley. We don't have a single tree for shade, much less olive oil or fruit. And there's no wine either."

Alethea listened with a growing sense of helplessness. She knew Agesandros was a New Citizen. Euryanax had lectured her at length about the imperfection of the Land Reform precisely because the land plots were equal in size but not in productivity. "I -- I know the Land Reform wasn't entirely fair," she told Agesandros anxiously.  "But what would have been better? You couldn't cut houses in half or draw the borders squiggling through the countryside. Many men wouldn't have voted for the Reform at all, if they'd thought they would lose their very homes...." Her arguments sounded weak to her, and her voice trailed off.

Agesandros considered her earnestly, realizing that he hadn't expected even this much understanding. Then again, intuitively he had known she was not a woman who was indifferent to the sufferings of others. He had only to think of Leon.  "I didn't mean to complain. Where else in the world have men without anything been given land at all? Besides, a city-rat like me wouldn't know how to manage all this." He gestured vaguely toward her vineyards and orchards. "I've barely learned the essence of planting barley." He offered the latter with a short laugh.

"But your wife should manage things for you," Alethea remarked, flushing at her own boldness, and not daring to meet his eyes when she flirted so shamelessly.

"True. That's why I need to marry a woman who understands something of -- barley."

"More than that!" Alethea insisted looking up and seeing -- too late -- the glint of amusement in his green-gold eyes. 

"I only have barely."

"But I'm sure that's not all your kleros could produce,"  Alethea countered, adding eagerly, "look at this. You don't think this kleros was always this diverse, do you? When the reforms came we had only the olives and a strip of barely. We'd lost our pastures and vineyards and fruit orchards, the flax fields and--" She stopped herself recognizing too late that in listing all Euryanax had lost she only emphasized how rich he had once been.

But Agesandros knew how rich Euryanax had been and he was not offended, only surprised.

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Sparta's Radical -- and Imperfect -- Land Reform

As I have discussed in earlier entries, the Messenian War forced Sparta to adopt a new, radical constitution that was quite unlike any in the contemporary world. That new constitution included elements like an Assembly of citizens that would soon be imitated elsewhere, but one feature never found imitators -- until more than a millennia later -- land reform.

Today I look more closely at this radical feature of the Spartan Constitution.

Although this event is lost in the mists of undated ancient history, all ancient historians agree that at some time (probably in the late 8th or early 7th century BC, by our reckoning) Spartan society underwent a severe crisis.  A rebellion or civil war so threatened the continued existence of the city-state that the citizens were prepared to accept radical new laws reputedly developed by Lycurgus. These laws included a redistribution of the land.  The land was divided into equal plots of sufficient size to support a man and his family, and each citizen was given a plot, or estate – a kleros.  Henceforth the Spartans called themselves equals, or Peers – because they were equal not only in rights but also in wealth.

We do not know the exact size of these "kleros," but they were designed to ensure each citizen could produce enough food to contribute to his syssitia and also pay the agoge fees for his sons.  We also know that from the inception of the reforms, Spartan citizens were not expected to till this land themselves. On the contrary, they had helots, agricultural workers of non-Doric descent, who tilled the land for them. Presumably, at the time of Lycurgus’ Great Reforms, there was one adult male helot on each kleros, who tilled the land for the benefit of himself and the Spartiate “master.” According to the law each party, the Spartiate master and the helot, received 50% of the harvest. Officially, neither the Spartiate nor the helot actually owned the land, which belonged to the state. Both were hereditary “tenants.”  

It is also probable that not all land in Lacedaemon was divided up. The kings almost certainly retained large estates that were not carved up during the reforms. Furthermore, Because citizens needed to be within walking or riding distance of their syssitia's and barracks, the immediate vicinity of Sparta (that is, in the Eurotas valley) was most likely the land divided into equal portions,  More distant parts of Lacedaemon (such as Kythera or on the coast of Laconia) probably remained in the hands of their former owners, while land conquered later, notably in Messenia, may have been divided on a basis other than strict equality.

Another factor influencing the distribution of land over time would have been inheritance laws, particularly the right of women to inherit.  Furthermore, it is only possible to sustain equal distribution of a fixed amount of land if there is only one male heir to each plot of land. Human demographics do not, however, produce perfect replacement.  Even in countries with primogeniture (such as medieval England), families die out in the male line on average every three generations. Without primogeniture, however, an excess of heirs rapidly reduces a family to penury. To avoid these consequences, societies evolve inheritance and marriage laws to regulate the distribution of wealth over generations.  An excellent short discussion of Sparta's land reform is provided in Paul Cartledge's Sparta and Laconia: A Regional History 1300 to 362 BC (Routledge, London, 1979), and a more comprehensive treatment of the subject can be found in Stephen Hodkinson, Property and Wealth in Classical Sparta (Duckworth, London, 2000).

Thus, inevitably, with time the equality of wealth created during the Lycurgan reforms was eroded.  By the second half of the 5th century BC, wealth had become concentrated in the hands of fewer and fewer families.  Spartan citizens were no longer equally wealthy.  

Yet even if Spartans were not in fact equally wealthy, the myth of equality remained powerful, and laws prohibited the hoarding of wealth, particularly the ownership of gold and silver coins (possibly all gold and silver).  The ostentatious display of wealth was frowned upon socially.  This set Sparta apart from the other Greek city-states, where the landed aristocracy, wealthy merchants, and manufacturers engaged in extravagant displays of wealth and competed for the honor of donating the most generous gifts to their respective cities.  In short, Spartan dress, taste, and style were shaped by the ethos of equality, by the very definition of Spartan citizens as "equals" -- Peers. 

Most important, while some Spartan citizens accumulated wealth and became richer than their fellows, and while the citizens of other cities could be reduced to beggary, all Spartans were guaranteed a minimum standard of living – something most modern observers would applaud rather than condemn.

The need and impact of the land reform is a major theme in "Are They Singing in Sparta?" a novel set during the Messenian War:

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Spartans and their unique culture are depicted as realistically as possible in all my Spartan novels:

    

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