Introduction. Probing the ‘Incubation Chamber’
p. 11-20
Note de l’auteur
I am grateful to my co-editor, Saskia Peels, and to Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge, for their comments and suggestions on this mise en bouche.
Texte intégral
[ἐ]ν ἐνκομητηρ̣ί̣[ωι] | μυρίοι σινάμ̣[ωροι]
In (the) incubation chamber, (there are) ten thousand promiscuous (men?)
1This is the startling claim apparently made by a fragmentary Hellenistic graffito from the Sarapieion in Memphis.1 The hyperbolic language of this scribble might indicate that it simply belongs to an unsatisfied customer of the Sarapieion, who sought to accuse its priests of providing poor service in a notoriously overcrowded sanctuary.2 The graffito’s style, however, is modest. Its tone strikes one as less vituperative than comedic or moralistic (or both). These remarks have already led to the suggestion that our anonymous scrawl may be making “an ironic comment on purity rules”.3 That would seem a plausible inference, since the sensationalistic statement’s reference is clearly to sexual transgressions occurring ‘in the incubation chamber’.4
2Purity from sex was a norm in most if not all sanctuaries. In fact, sanctuaries where incubation was practised often possessed elaborate rules concerning purity which were prominently displayed for the benefit of worshippers. Extant inscriptions from Asklepieia, for instance, prescribe washing after sexual intercourse, or indeed in the case of the incubation chambers proper (ἐγκοιμητήρια), a complete prohibition from entry, even lasting a few days.5 If the pollution resulting from sexual intercourse hindered access to the sanctuary as a whole, and especially to its incubation chambers, sex was equally prohibited within these cultic buildings. Whether men and women slept separately or together in healing sanctuaries remains to some extent debated; practices may well have varied from one place to the next.6 But the point of segregating men and women in the first place—such as we find at the Amphiareion of Oropos for instance, where a distinct ἐγκοιμητήριον was devoted to each gender—was surely to avoid possible nighttime transgressions of the sort that may be evoked by the Memphite graffito.7
3Despite all of this, sex (including homosexual relations),8 both in and outside of the sanctuary, will inevitably have remained a potential source of impurity. Though obviously exaggerated, the graffito from Memphis thus hints at complexities inherent in the conduct of ancient worshippers, many of which now largely escape our grasp.9 How, indeed, can we probe such an ‘incubation chamber’, taking that metaphor in the largest sense possible, to include other places where purity and pollution are at issue in our fragmentary laboratory, the ancient Greek world? In other words, how can we begin to uncover the ancient realities underlying norms of purity and impurity in Greek religion and ritual practice?
4This is a challenging exercise in which all of the contributions to this volume seek to engage, each of course in a different manner, yet in a spirit of mutual dialogue. The present introduction (and the course of the volume) will attempt to highlight a few of these interrelations between the individual efforts. The hope is therefore that readers will not only be able to read innovative recent research on the subjects of purity and pollution in the ancient Greek world, but also be profitably confronted with contrastive models and varying interpretations, which can reveal some of these interesting and enlightening complexities, not to mention the path to future work.
5The subtitle of the volume also requires some further qualification. Research on the subject of purity and pollution is, generally speaking, rooted in documentary studies, and this volume is no exception. The impetus behind the original conference was notably connected with the early stages in the development of a new project at the University of Liège entitled the Collection of Greek Ritual Norms, now published online.10 At the heart of this project is the gathering of epigraphic material, usually called ‘sacred laws’,11 which makes part of the investigation into rituals of purification possible. Many papers in the volume discuss these inscriptions, stress the importance of recently discovered documents, or point in new directions, such as different kinds of texts or linguistic analysis.
6The volume is divided into four parts, each organised around a different focal point, though again several through-lines between the papers transcend these sections. Part 1 (Concepts, Continuities, Changes) contains four papers which attempt to address fundamental problems of definitions, what is meant by purity and impurity, and how to scrutinise the variety of ancient Greek terms found in the discourse relating to purity and impurity. A complementary, critical question is whether norms relating to purity and pollution remained constant from the Archaic period to late Antiquity, or how they can be seen to have evolved.
7As befits a volume celebrating his work, Robert Parker begins the proceedings with a study meant to complement his groundbreaking book. He first returns to the famous definition of Mary Douglas, that pollution is essentially “matter out of place”, that which is excluded from a social and cultural system.12 Pollution indeed encompasses physical phenomena such as bodily excretions—but not all, as Parker interestingly reports: urine and feces were never the subject of Greek purity regulations—, murder, incest, unburied corpses, and the like. Yet there is a need to underscore the inherent limits of this model: pollution is not merely reducible to physiological instincts about hygiene, since it is intricately conditioned by mental and social structures.
8On the whole, these nuances play out in the available richness and diversity of the epigraphic evidence, which is continually expanding. Parker adduces several novelties, such as the fascinating inscription from Marmarini near Larisa in Thessaly13 and the reconciliation agreement from Dikaia.14 He illustrates “the fine details of pollution rules” in the famous inscription from Cyrene,15 noting its obscurities and those of the tablet from Selinous—which was first published after Parker’s volume.16 These elaborate texts are to be contrasted with other, more abundant but less eloquent inscriptions from Greek sanctuaries, so-called entry regulations, which “merely require purity from those entering the shrine without explaining what is meant by purity”.17
9At the heart of ‘what is meant by purity’ is the question of continuity and change in its interpretation, and specifically the development or increasing focus on the mental and ethical aspects of purity. Angelos Chaniotis’ contribution also builds on previously published work to reveal alliterative and durative trends. Purity and pollution are argued to be embodied concepts, essentially circumscribed by their human corporeality and regulated by a community which seeks to maintain communication with the gods—for example, the Tritopatreis of the tablet from Selinous,18 viewed as enigmatic by Parker, find a place in Chaniotis’ framework. This corporeality may not seem too distant from the ‘Douglas model’ evoked earlier, but, according to Chaniotis, it also applies when discussing ‘purity of the mind’, a subject often invoked in inscribed rules of purity.
10This notion of ‘purity of the mind’ is viewed as both a form of continuity and of change in meaning—or at least a partial change in emphasis. A key piece in the debate is a famous inscription, which is now lost: the metrical couplet said to have been inscribed over the entrance to the sanctuary of Asklepios at Epidauros, which stated that “purity is to think pious thoughts” (ἁγνεία δ’ ἐστὶ φρονεῖν ὅσια). Parker follows Jan N. Bremmer in viewing the text as reflecting a later development,19 while Chaniotis and others argue for a Classical context, though admitting that “cult regulations adopted the idea of spiritual impurity after a substantial delay”.20 Chaniotis hypothesises that new legal frameworks in Archaic and Classical Greek cities, “the differentiation of attitudes towards the afterlife”, and a gradual reaction against the ‘automatisms’ of ritual actions may have stimulated and helped to popularise the idea of ‘mental purity’.
11 The notion of ‘purity of the mind’, whether one views it as an innovative complement to norms of purity, or as an inherent part of these traditional norms, akin to piety, forms one branch of investigation that binds many of the contributions together, though all discuss this theme in different ways. Most notably, ‘purity of the mind’ has recently formed the object of a monograph, by two of the contributors to this volume, Ivana and Andrej Petrovic.21 As with many outstanding and fascinating problems surrounding miasma in general, and moral notions of purity in particular, readers will here be able to locate the relevant, expanding bibliography, to acquire a sound understanding of the issues at hand, and perhaps even to ‘clear up their minds’ on the subject.
12Pierre Bonnechere investigates notions of purity, but also more broadly of other values such as piety (εὐσέβεια, ὁσιότης, etc.) and justice, in a wide-ranging survey of the literary and epigraphic landscape of Greek oracular consultations and responses. For this purpose, a rich new mine of evidence are the thousands of inscribed lamellae from the oracle of Dodona which have been recently published.22 As often, the study is inevitably confronted by the fragmentary character of the epigraphic material, which can be complemented by literary sources, though these are also to be treated with caution. Bonnechere underlines the inherent purity of the oracular sanctuaries, while observing that the moral values expounded by their divinatory pronouncements— piety, morality, justice, respect of tradition—are those which are essentially linked to the idea of ‘purity of mind’.23 Oracles also effectively demonstrate the flexibility of Greek religious norms (πάτρια, νομιζόμενα), since they often reveal, though with tantalising problems of chronology, that traditions could be subtly adapted or modified through these consultations.24
13Starting also from the Epidaurian couplet, and using the framework of embodied cognition, Saskia Peels performs an innovative lexical analysis of the concepts of ὁσιότης and ἁγνεία, as employed in Classical Greek drama. As she has argued in a critical monograph, ὅσιος is a religious and moral evaluation of human attitudes and actions that respect and satisfy the gods.25 The term ἁγνός is a closely related value, which occasionally intersects with it in drama: “ὅσιος and ἁγνός seem to coincide only in those cases in which, and only in the sense that, purity is a pre-condition for interacting with the divine world.”26 Purity is thus to be viewed as an ethical term in this context. Peels concludes by ably tying her investigation with the ongoing debate concerning the development of ‘purity of the mind’: “in this way the theatre may have helped prepare for the equation of piety, morality and purity in Greek thought and in the Epidaurian couplet.”27
14This discussion of piety directly transitions into the second part of the volume (Homicide, Morality, and Society), where the investigation revolves more specifically around the impurity resulting from murder. One particular aspect of the matter is the relationship between purification and the law as recourses for resolving this type of pollution (μίασμα): as in the argument of Chaniotis mentioned above, did the legal framework of Greek cities gradually obviate purification as a practical, ritual expedient for resolving this issue?
15Hannah Willey tackles the notions of piety and justice problematised in Plato’s Euthyphro, outlining the messy details of the reported case involving Euthyphro’s father, whether this act qualifies as meditated or unmeditated homicide, as well as the relationships and social status of the parties involved. Above all, she stresses that purification can be seen as an effective ritual mechanism for removing pollution within the oikos, and thus that “purification and legal action” are to be seen “as complementary but non-identical responses to social disruption”.28 This helps to explain why “Euthyphro’s decision to pursue legal action [against his father] may be problematic and why purification might have offered a different and better course of action, especially with respect to the loaded nature of the relation between oikos and polis”.29 Willey provides attractive insights into the Platonic dialogue’s raison d’être: in her words, it dramatises “the difficulty of reaching firm conclusions concerning the dilemmas and uncertainties which a case of this sort raises by demonstrating both the complexities of the law and the complexities with which the law fails to cope”,30 as well as the definitional problems of such terms as ‘justice’ and ‘piety’.
16Anne-Françoise Jaccottet discusses how a tyrannicide is reckoned to be ὅσιος in the Athenian law—the Law of Eukrates—on this subject, offering a detailed study of this inscribed document, as well as an analysis of the relief crowning the stele (δῆμος ἢ δημοκρατία), whose motif is a tautological definition of a democracy: the citizen is the people, and vice versa.31 Other anti-tyranny laws are adduced, contributing to write a short history of the question in Athens. Jaccottet underlines that, in these texts, ὅσιος is glossed by the formula καθαρὸς τὰς χεῖρας, “pure as far as his hands are concerned”, which in her view is tantamount to saying that the tyrannicide is “pure with respect to his deed”. The murderer of the tyrant is ὅσιος, interpreted by Jaccottet in this context as “pure in the eyes of the gods”, because he has killed a πολέμιος, an enemy of the state who is reimagined as a non-citizen, one who must be exterminated in legitimate defense.32 It is thus through the stigmatisation of tyranny and by opposition to the tyrant that democracy defines itself—a situation not without echos in the contemporary world.33
17Irene Salvo further challenges the notion that the qualification of murder as religiously impure changed with the coming of the Hellenistic period, “being gradually absorbed by the legal system”. The evidence she marshals consists of literary sources relating to two rulers: Alexander the Great and Perseus of Macedon. While acknowledging the pitfalls of using these sources as historical evidence for popular ‘beliefs’, she nevertheless succeeds in revealing a common thread of pollution (μίασμα) in these narratives, one which was the subject of complex, often political negotiation.
18Introducing the next group of papers focussed on ritual practice (Part 3: Rituals, Behaviour, and Abstinence), one common strand between Salvo’s paper and the next contribution is a specific ritual: the dogs cut in twain through which the Macedonian army passed during the festival of the Xanthika. Stella Georgoudi revisits the question of dog ‘sacrifices’ and other related rituals in the ancient Greek world. She aptly stresses the need to distinguish between rituals of purification and sacrifices proper:34 the case of the Xanthika must be treated as a purificatory rite, not as a sacrifice with a divine recipient, for instance. Dichotomic or limb-by-limb divisions of animals and people in such rituals are also comprehensively explored, which leads to a wide-ranging discussion of oath-rituals, where such divisions can find a place, as well as of comparisons with analogous, perhaps cognate Hebrew and Hittite rituals. Far from agreeing with an innately ‘impure’ character of the dog used in ritual practice, Georgoudi concludes particularly by underlining the importance of two fundamental gestures of the rituals in question: the cutting and the passage through the cut portions.
19A detailed collection of sources—literary, epigraphical, iconographic—illustrates Marie-Claire Beaulieu’s investigation, whose purpose is to affirm the intrinsically pure character of the sea. This she attributes to its unfathomable depth as well its absolute sterility or infertility (compared to land). Seawater was one of the most common agents in a plethora of purificatory rituals, and one of the most powerful, used to treat the most severe cases of μίασμα. From these profound foundations, Beaulieu turns to a wider exploration of myths where the ‘leap into the sea’ seems to represent the transition of the figure (Ino, Glaukos) from a mortal into an essentially immortal being, before concluding with remarks on the purification of cult statues in the sea, and especially on the rite of ἅλαδε μύσται as part of the eschatological mysteries of Eleusis. While at the level of myth, the sea could offer a complete κάθαρσις of the soul, leading to immortality, at the level of ritual, the purification offered by seawater was equally albeit differently absolute, erasing the impurity of death and fostering its opposite, fertility.
20A valuable revision of old texts, rather than new material, is at the core of Ivana and Andrej Petrovic’s original study of inscriptions which they call programmata. Already introduced by Parker and Chaniotis’ papers, these are entry regulations from Greek sanctuaries whose purpose was to list guidelines of purity and cathartic requirements for worshippers. Conveniently gathering this material as part of an ongoing study,35 they focus on the reedition and commentary of one document in particular, a stele which was reused to prescribe norms for the sanctuary of Athena on Lindos in the late second or early third century AD.36 The document is convincingly analysed as a work of bricolage, combining an introductory preamble stressing ‘universal purity’, a list of concrete abstentions (ἁγνεῖαι) expected of these texts, and concluding with an epigram. They focus notably on a passage prescribing the avoidance of viewing children being breastfed and relate this to kourotrophic aspects of the cult of Athena Lindia, as well as on the requirement of good conscience, of purity of the mind or soul, which has often been evoked in this introduction.37 More broadly, they sketch the background for the Lindian document, as well as for other entry regulations, by noting that these are closely related to, or directly involve, Near Eastern or Egyptian cults. This would thus suggest that the norms underlying these inscriptions belong to a complex tradition, influenced strongly by Egyptian religious doctrine.
21Having already moved closer to Egypt and the Near East, and to later Antiquity, the volume concludes with three papers that, again using documentary sources, explore the development and richness of the concepts of purity and impurity in these Greek-speaking yet foreign milieux (Part 4: Contacts and Boundaries, Demons and ‘Magic’). Athanassia Zografou offers a detailed study of the diversity of the purificatory rituals and behavioural practices which are prescribed in the so-called ‘Greek magical papyri’. Following Richard Gordon, the author interestingly remarks that piety and ‘purity of the mind’ are—albeit with some notable exceptions—seldom evoked in the texts, which instead usually focus on concrete, practical interdictions and abstentions for the practitioner, thereby transforming this agent into a tabula rasa, a pure vessel suitable for interaction with the divine sphere. On balance, Zografou’s essay should therefore be confronted with the preceding contribution in order to begin to assess more fully the Near Eastern and Egyptian background of religious norms in the Greek world. As the author notes, the complete eclecticism of the practices highlighted in the papyri needs to be kept in mind, as it reveals a rhetorical just as much as a ritually obsessive use of multiple traditions.
22It is this rhetorical dimension of the ritual papyri that Miriam Blanco Cesteros and Eleni Chronopoulou seek to investigate further. Moving from a similar starting point as Zografou, the authors probe the material relating to binding curses and spells, in tablets and the ‘Greek magical papyri’, to reveal the forms of slander (διαβολή) with which the practitioner could attack his enemy. Impious behaviour (denoted as ἀσεβής, ἀνόσιος, etc.) could constitute the focus of this invective, and even such loaded terms as ‘polluted’ (μιαρός) could essentially be used as part of insults rather than as strictly religious markers. Other recriminations, however, elaborated on the alleged religious transgressions of the accused: illicit sacrifices, the profanation of mysteries or of sanctuaries and their equipment. These specific impure actions were brought into play as part of the spells and curses for a stronger rhetorical and ritual aim: since they concerned breaches of traditional norms, the purpose was to seek divine anger and punishment against the accused. This material also once again demonstrates the intimate imbrication of Greek and Egyptian religious traditions.
23Finally, Moshe Blidstein wonders why and how demons and other spirits— normally not explicitly associated with impurity in the Hebrew and Greco-Roman worlds—became so in an Christian perspective. Highlighting first a few conspicuous Jewish and Greek exceptions, Blidstein then evaluates Christian reactions to the understanding of purity in both traditions. One radical aspect of this response was the critique of Jewish purity and dietary laws, which Blidstein argues was essentially a “normal aspect of moralizing religious discourse”38—such as the notion of ‘purity of mind’—which became prevalent in both Jewish and Greco-Roman literature. Christian doctrine drew from both wells, Jewish and Greco-Roman, but Blidstein argues that “one aspect of Christian innovation”—building on some antecedents— “was the central role given to evil spirits in the creation and transmission of impurity”.39 In other words, what took place was the recycling of an older concept of the daimonic, recast as a useful and flexible tool for Christian reactions to paganism, notably against animal sacrifice. Baptism was elaborated as one of the purificatory rituals that permitted the manipulation of defilement—an exorcism from demonic possession.
*
24One of Robert Parker’s conclusions in this volume may at first seem a despairingly negative one: “A convincing unifying account of Greek pollution remains elusive, and my inclination remains to think that one cannot be found, since pollution is an immensely flexible metaphor that could be applied in many different spheres”.40 We can readily agree that a ‘unified theory’ of Greek pollution is impossible; indeed, it would surely be reductive and therefore undesirable. As the contributions to this volume and other ongoing investigations—arriving at a quick pace41—persist in demonstrating, there is more profit in continuing to explore the ‘flexible metaphors’ of purity and impurity. From institutional law to traditonal norm, from rhetorical slander to substantive crime, from ethical conception to ritual practice, from inner— mental—to outer—corporeal—expressions, the different declensions of purity and impurity reach beyond definitional uncertainties, unveiling some of the richness, diversity, and complexity of ancient realities.
Notes de bas de page
1 Nachtergael (1999), p. 353-355 no. 7 (275-225 BC), written on a sphinx, now in Vienna.
2 Nachtergael (1999), p. 354-355: “La mise en garde que lance le graffite n’exprime peut-être rien d’autre que la déconvenue d’un client mécontent. Il est possible néanmoins que, sous son exagération, se dissimule quelque fond de vérité du fait que le Sarapieion, lieu d’asile, est peuplé d’un « assortiment brut d’habitants »… Dans ce cas, la critique ne concernerait pas seulement des personnes peu recommandables dans le dortoir, mais porterait indirectement atteinte aux prêtres, qui sont préposés à l’accomplissement des cérémonies.”
3 So A. chaniotis in EBGR (1999) no. 177 (Kernos 15 [2002], p. 391), building on a possibility first raised by Nachtergael himself.
4 For σινάμωρος in a sexual sense, probably also implying some form of violence and/or deceit, see LSJ s.v.
5 The available epigraphic evidence derives especially from Pergamon. The incubation chambers (both ‘large’ and ‘small’) of the Asklepieion there, as defined in AvP VIII.3 161 (ca. 100-150 AD), lines 11-14, required a severe abstention of two full days after sex: ἀπό… ἀφροδισίων… τριταῖος. In the sanctuary itself, perhaps, entry may have been allowed immediately after washing, IvP 264 / LSAM 14 (a later rule from the 3rd c. AD): [ἀπὸ… ἀφροδ]εισίων … λουσάμενος. In the sanctuary of the Asklepiastai at Yaylakale in the territory of Pergamon, Müller (2010) / SEG 60, 1333 (ca. 200-150 BC): ἀπὸ… τῶν ἀφρο̣δισιακῶν̣, entry on the same day “washing from the head down” (κατ̣ὰ κ̣εφ̣αλῆς̣ λ̣ου̣σ̣άμε̣νον). Other rules for the ‘incubation chamber beside the sanctuary’ (τὸ παρ̣ᾲ τὸ ἱερ̣ὸν ἐν̣κ̣οιμητήριον; i.e. probably located just outside it) were also defined in the inscription, but are now essentially lost below the fragment. For bathing before incubation, see also Parker (1996), p. 213 n. 31.
6 See von Ehrenheim (2015), p. 94, who adduces the historical case of the Amphiareion at Oropos (cf. n. below) and Ar. Pl. 685-695 (where an old woman is depicted as present in the temple during nighttime incubation); the latter is hardly compelling evidence, however. It remains highly probable that faire chambre à part was the norm when sleeping in a sanctuary.
7 I.Oropos 277 / CGRN 75 (ca. 386-374 BC), lines 43-47, ἐν δὲ τοῖ κοιμητηρίο | ι καθεύδειν χωρὶς μὲν τὸς ἄνδρας, χωρὶς | δὲ τὰς γυναῖκας, τοὺς μὲν ἄνδρας ἐν τοῖ πρὸ ἠ | [ο̑]ς τοῦ βωμοῦ, τὰς δὲ γυναῖκας ἐν τοῖ πρὸ hεσπέ | ρης.
8 On homosexuality and impurity—a topic admittedly seldom explicitly mentioned—consult notably Parker (1996) [1983], p. 94 with n. 81. The inscription from Kos that he refers to is now IG XII.4 274 / CGRN 86 (line 43: ἁγνεύεσθαι γυναικὸς καὶ ἀν̣[δ]ρὸς ἀντὶ νυκτός).
9 That such offenses were on occasion committed is also clear from some of the ‘confession stelai’ of Lydia and Phrygia; see in this volume, Parker, p. 28 n. 18, Chaniotis, p. 38-39.
10 CGRN: http://cgrn.ulg.ac.be. For introductory prolegomena, see Carbon – Pirenne-Delforge (2012), (2017).
11 See e.g. Harris (2015a) and the online Appendices in Harris – Carbon (2016-); cf. also Parker in this volume.
12 Douglas (1966), p. 35.
13 Decourt – Tziafalias (2015); cf. Parker – Scullion (2016), p. 256-260, on the norms of purity in this inscription; see now Carbon (2016) and Bouchon – Decourt (2017) for a new edition.
14 Voutiras – Sismanidis (2007) (SEG 57, 576).
15 Dobias-Lalou (2000), p. 297-309 / CGRN 99. See now also the online version at https://igcyr.unibo.it/igcyr016700 (last consulted 12.1.2018).
16 NGSL 27 / CGRN 13.
17 Parker, p. 30.
18 See n. 16 above.
19 Bremmer (2002); Parker in this volume, p. 30 n. 25.
20 Chaniotis p. 41 here, with further references.
21 Petrovic – Petrovic (2016).
22 DVC.
23 Bonnechere, p. 86: “[…] toutes les valeurs mises en avant par les oracles, comme la piété, la moralité, la justice, le respect du droit, de la loi et des traditions, sont aussi celles qui, et dès l’époque archaïque, ont été identifiées par A. et I. Petrovic comme laissant transparaître l’idée de pureté intérieure.”
24 Bonnechere, p. 85: “Et quand un usage est dit κατὰ τὰ πάτρια, cela ne signifie pas qu’il remonte à la nuit des temps, mais que les gens qui le clament en sont convaincus, ou veulent en convaincre, voire s’en convaincre. Comme le système est suffisamment souple pour que les modifications successives, volontaires ou non, acquièrent assez rapidement leur valeur immémoriale dans la tradition « inamovible » de la cité, l’implication oraculaire dans le système coutumier en matière de sacré et de pureté est souvent difficile à apprécier dans sa chronologie.”
25 Peels (2016).
26 Peels, p. 99.
27 Peels, p. 109.
28 Willey, p. 114.
29 Willey, p. 130.
30 Willey, p. 130.
31 SEG 12, 87.
32 Jaccottet, p. 146: “Celui qui renverse la démocratie n’est plus un citoyen athénien aux yeux des institutions démocratiques”; and p. 153: “La démocratie lave la souillure du tyrannicide, ou plutôt, elle la précède, tente de l’exclure purement et simplement en faisant du tyran un ennemi qu’il est du devoir du citoyen d’exterminer, en légitime défense.”
33 In the apposite final remark of the author, p. 154: “Mais faisons-nous mieux actuellement que de définir la démocratie comme une lutte contre le tyran, quel qu’il soit?”
34 See now also a fundamental article on this subject, Georgoudi (2017).
35 Petrovic – Petrovic (2016); cf. especially the Conclusion, p. 281-288; a new volume, treating the Hellenistic and Roman periods, is in preparation.
36 I.Lindos II 487 / LSS 91.
37 See already Petrovic – Petrovic (2014).
38 Blidstein, p. 302.
39 Blidstein, p. 304.
40 Parker, p. 27. Compare also the introductory statement of Bonnechere, p. 49: “Il faut d’emblée accepter l’idée d’une fluidité diffuse selon les individus, les contextes ou les époques, résistant à toute catégorisation absolue.”
41 See, for example, the essays of Kajava (2017) and Augier (2017a), (2017b).
Auteur
jmcarbon@uliege.be
Maître de conférence associé at the Collège de France and remains a Collaborateur Scientifique of the Département des Sciences de l’Antiquité at the University of Liège, where he co-authors the Collection of Greek Ritual Norms (CGRN; http://cgrn.ulg.ac.be).
Le texte seul est utilisable sous licence Licence OpenEdition Books. Les autres éléments (illustrations, fichiers annexes importés) sont « Tous droits réservés », sauf mention contraire.
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