An Economic Approach to Homer’s Odyssey: Part II By Tyler Cowen
I: The Polities of The Odyssey
In the previous article, I outlined what an economic approach to reading Homer’s epic, The Odyssey, might look like. I also noted that what most strikes me about The Odyssey is Homer’s treatment of comparative political regimes. Looking at the wide variety of regimes Odysseus encounters is the focus of this article.
Given that human behavior, at least in The Odyssey, can be understood in terms of non-standard assumptions, what are then the possible states of affairs? Which polities might we look to for arranging human interactions and maintaining political order? Utopia is not readily achieved, not only because of material constraints, but also because human behavior is too restless and too desirous of alternative states of affairs. A straightforward order based on political virtue is also beyond human grasp, again because it clashes with the nature of human beings as we understand them. What then might fit with a vision of humans as restless, intoxicating, deceiving, and self-deceiving creatures? The travel explorations of The Odyssey can be understood as, in part, an attempt to address this question.
I will now consider the major and some of the minor polities described by The Odyssey, roughly in the order they appear in the story.
Pylos and Sparta
Ithaca aside, the first two polities we encounter are through Telemachus. After he leaves home to find news of his father, he stops first in Pylos. His arrival in Pylos and later Sparta will foreshadow the later narratives of Odysseus. Telemachus meets a king (Nestor), is welcomed into a court as a stranger, feasts on meat, is asked to tell his personal story, and other details which mirror many of Odysseus’ stories. The parallels here are obvious and deliberate.
Compared to the later narratives of Odysseus, what is striking about Pylos is how little we understand of it. Much of the talk with Nestor is about how Aegisthus murdered Agamemnon, and how Telemachus hopes to take comparable revenge on the suitors of Penelope. The account is Telemachus-centered, and we receive little insight into how Pylos works. It seems to be an orderly kingdom with steady rule, but we do not get a sense of Telemachus viewing it with the eyes of an inquisitive traveler as we experience with Odysseus.
Later in The Odyssey, when we look back upon Pylos, it doesn’t seem quite so peaceful and sparkling. In Book 15, Telemachus encounters Theoclymenus, who is on the run and taking refuge from Pylos because powerful men there wish to kill him. Theoclymenus admits that he killed “a man of my own tribe.” It is not obvious who is in the right from the tale of Theoclymenus, but Telemachus lets him board the ship as a guest and allows him to travel onwards. Perhaps Telemachus has learned not to trust the polity of Pylos anymore, and that his original understanding of it was flat and lacking in insight, revised after he has now seen more of the world.
A second possible episode of ex post realization about Pylos comes in Book 16, when Penelope is reunited with Telemachus in Ithaca. She exclaims: “Telemachus! Sweet light! I was so sure that I would never see you anymore after you sailed to Pylos secretly, not telling me, to get news of your father.” On the one hand, Penelope simply may have been distraught because Telemachus disappeared without warning. Yet she ends up aware of where Telemachus visited, and her words suggest some note of danger for the foreigner visiting Pylos, again the notion of dangerous foreigner visits being a recurring theme in the narrative. Perhaps we are being told that Pylos really isn’t so much safer than the other locales portrayed in The Odyssey.
Returning to the narrative of Telemachus’ visit, from Pylos the sons of Nestor take Telemachus to Sparta, to set him further on his journey. In Sparta they go first to the house of Menelaus, the King, and again there are features of the story that reflect the adventures of Odysseus, such as a feast, an introduction to a king, and the inhabitants processing the introduction of a stranger. Once again, this polity seems well-ordered, but it doesn’t quite seem happy. As described by Robert Schmiel, “the mood… is one of melancholy remembrance” and “domestic strife beneath the surface.”
There is, however, prosperity. Neighbors and family feast gladly under the king’s roof, and Telemachus notes that the halls of Menelaus are as full of riches as the palace of Zeus. Helen, the Queen, opts for intoxication for the group. At the ceremonies, she decides to mix the wine with drugs to take all pain and rage away and bring forgetfulness. Arguably this is a deliberate contrast with Ithaca. Both polities have been deeply scarred by the war. Ithaca has fallen into unruliness and civil war, whereas Sparta has returned to order, but with sadness, and it is an order kept in place by powerful intoxicants. It is not obvious that Sparta is to be preferred, as it seems to offer less genuine and authentic lives. Helen is familiar with powerful magic drugs from Egypt that are “some good, some dangerous,” leaving open the possibility that Sparta has erred in its reliance on intoxication.
Telemachus expresses his desire to return to Pylos, and his praise of Sparta does not seem entirely positive, noting, “You have made me stay too long.” There is perhaps a parallel between Odysseus’ conversation with King Alcinous and how Telemachus talks with Menelaus. In this back and forth, Telemachus does not show himself to be much of a storyteller. Menelaus tells him he does not wish to keep him there, echoing King Alcinous with Odysseus. Telemachus simply asserts that he wishes to go home; he lacks curiosity and the narrative art. This is perhaps related to his relative lack of resources in imagining how the suitors might be vanquished, as he is fundamentally passive.
In sum, the polities of Pylos and Sparta are shown as wealthy and orderly, yet not entirely successful. Pylos is a black box that appears less attractive with time. Sparta is sad and has chosen intoxication, rather than continued conflict, to deal with the legacy of war.
Ogygia, or the polity of Calypso
We encounter the traveling Odysseus in Book 5, when he is stranded on the island of Ogygia, home of Calypso. Early on we read that “Calypso forces him to stay with her.” Yet Ogygia has many comforts: scents of citrus and pine, luscious forests, and springs of sparkling water. It has “sights to please even a god.” Calypso is ageless and offers Odysseus immortality if he stays.
Yet Odysseus is far from happy, sobbing in grief and longing for home. The first lesson of the polities explained by Odysseus is that there is no utopian answer as to how men should live, as the lack of scarcity is experienced as intolerable. This illustrates Odysseus valuing his discovery process and quest rather than simply wishing to maximize material consumption. Calypso recognizes this when she says his plans are always changing. Odysseus’ exit from Ogygia does not proceed smoothly, though he eventually swims to safety on Phaeacia.
The polity of Phaeacia
In Books 6-8, the reader encounters Phaeacia, which receives the best-developed portrait of any civilization besides Ithaca. They are the main plausible alternative to the homeland of Odysseus. The Phaeacians formerly inhabited Hyperia but were driven out by the Cyclopes to this "distant place," a deglobalized setting. No longer specializing only in dancing, they built walls and temples.
The Phaeacians seem skilled, orderly, patriotic, and full of vigor. However, cracks show in the façade. Athena describes the people as "not too keen on strangers coming from abroad," and instructs Odysseus to walk in silence. There is more than a hint of arbitrary power, as the Queen must look kindly upon a visitor for them to be able to leave. Furthermore, the origins of this polity lie in incest and violence; the King and Queen are uncle and niece, and their ancestry involves a king who ruled over and killed "the Giants." What first seems like a paradise is revealed as a dystopia.
Odysseus finally decides to reject the life of the Phaeacians, despite the King's generous offer to marry his daughter and gain wealth. Before he leaves, King Alcinous inaugurates a festival with contests in every sport to show the Phaeacians are "the best." The Phaeacians come across as passive-aggressive and insecure, wanting guests to leave on terms that recognize Phaeacian superiority. When Odysseus is taunted for being a mere sailor, he competes and fashions a decisive victory.
In sum, Phaeacia is a society with strengths in sailing and storytelling, but weaknesses in mysteriousness and passive-aggressive arrogance. Odysseus is not tempted to stay there. It is an “insiders only” option, less hospitable to outsiders than it pretends. For the curious, the ordinary polity simply is not very alluring.
The Lotus Eaters
Odysseus tells of landing on the island of the Lotus Eaters, who are passive and enjoy their fruit. Those who taste the fruit in turn become passive and lose all desire to leave. This model of the polity makes people happy, yet it must be forbidden because nothing heroic happens there. Like his rejection of Calypso, the utopian is taken off the table.
The Cyclopes
The community of the Cyclopes offers a look at anarchy. They have no councils or common laws, and each makes laws for his own family. However, this anarchy is not impressive; they have no capacity to build ships, and their island remains poor despite a good harbor. It is stated there is "no shipwright among them," suggesting a lack of division of labor.
The polity of the Cyclopes is far from stable or secure. They are not formidable adversaries; their lack of cooperation is parabled by the "Noman" construction, where the other Cyclopes do not help their blinded compatriot because they believe "no man" is killing him. A polity based on pure autonomy does not work.
Aeolus, the closed polity
The island of Aeolus is a surfeit of plenty where twelve children—six boys married to their sisters—feast at a never-ending banquet. Aeolus is the ultimate closed polity, a small mini-paradise that does not brook interference from outsiders. It has no scale, no future, and no real ability to interact with the outside world.
Laestrygonia
Laestrygonia hearkens back to the Cyclopes, with giant inhabitants and a king who eats guests. This suggests that the world of the Cyclopes represents general patterns repeated around the world.
Circe of Aeaea and her seductions
Circe can turn men into pigs with "potent drugs," another form of involuntary intoxication. Odysseus eventually decides to leave, but his men rebel against the suggestion of staying forever. The life of the pigs is intoxication of the body rather than the mind, and it is not a pleasant prospect.
The gloomy city of the Cimmerians
The Cimmerians live in a land covered in mist and cloud that never sees the sun. This polity reflects a default assumption: if nothing happens, polities simply will not shine or prosper.
The Underworld
The Underworld is a polity where everyone is sad and dead. Achilles famously states he would prefer to be a workman on a farm than rule as king of the dead. Yet it is the one place where Odysseus has honest, non-confrontational conversations. No one is trying to drug or enslave him. Artifice and deceit only disappear in the land of the dead; they are inevitable among the living.
Ithaca
Ithaca is marked by war and a radical lack of trust. Even Odysseus and Penelope do not trust each other. Penelope is described as cunning, offering hope to all suitors while her mind moves elsewhere. Telemachus is portrayed as a mediocre, weak man. The ending, where Athena intervenes as a deus ex machina to stop a civil war, leaves one pessimistic about Ithaca's future. The principles of war seem stronger than the principles of peace.
Syria and Crete as coda
The island of Syria is described as a paradise of plenty, but it is vulnerable to "avaricious merchants" who created disorder. The lesson is that even attractive polities are vulnerable. Finally, the description of Crete as a society with no trust problems is labeled by Homer as "lies." It is the most fantastical polity of all and simply may not be real.
There are many lessons we can take from this grand tour of epic polities. In my next article, I will consider the larger question of power in Homer’s narrative.
References Ahrensdorf (2014); Alvis (1995); Aronen (2002); Bresson; Cowen (2008); Dobbs (1987); Dodds (1971); Dougherty (2001); Germain (1962); Kearns (2004); Levy (2011); Louden (1993); Osborne (2004); Raaflaub (2000); Redfield; Rinella (2010); Rose (1969); Schmiel (1972); Scully (1990); Seaford (2004); Segal (1994); Whittaker (1999).
Footnotes Available at the Online Library of Liberty: The Iliad and the Odyssey by Homer, translated by Thomas Hobbes. Schmiel (1972, p.470). Reference to the appearance of a blind poet. On the passive-aggressive nature of the Phaeacians, see Rose (1969).
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