Greek Homosexuality

K.J. Dover

Harvard University Press, 1978

The scholarly study of same-sex desire in the ancient world existed before Dover — in fragments, in classical philology, in nineteenth-century German scholarship that partly reflected the preoccupations of the Uranian movement — but it did not exist as a systematic, evidence-driven, methodologically rigorous discipline. Greek Homosexuality created that discipline. It also, almost inadvertently, created the framework that Foucault, Halperin, and a subsequent generation would inherit, contest, and transform. The book’s influence has been so thoroughly absorbed into the field it founded that reading it now requires a deliberate effort to see it as the intervention it was.

The Core Claim

Ancient Greek attitudes toward same-sex behavior were structured primarily by the active/passive distinction and by age asymmetry rather than by the sex of one’s partner. The pederastic model — the erastes (active, older, pursuing) and eromenos (passive, younger, pursued) — organises the social and visual evidence Dover assembles: vase paintings, comedy, oratory, philosophical texts, and legal speeches. The social meaning of a sexual act depended not on whether it was same-sex but on one’s position within it. Citizen men were supposed to be active; to be penetrated was to occupy the position of a subordinate — woman, boy, slave, foreigner. The sex of one’s partner was, in the relevant sense, less important than one’s role.

The visual evidence is the book’s most original contribution. Dover subjects the iconographic record of Attic vase painting to systematic analysis, arguing that the positions depicted in approved erastes-eromenos scenes — most commonly intercrural rather than anal penetration — carry specific social meaning: the ideal relationship preserves the eromenos’s integrity even while acknowledging the erastes’s desire. The courting ritual he reconstructs from this and related evidence — pursuit, gift-giving, the gradual yielding of the eromenos out of gratitude and affection rather than desire — has become the standard account of classical pederastic convention.

Where the Argument Is Strongest

The vase painting analysis is genuinely path-breaking — no one had subjected this material to sustained scholarly scrutiny in this way, and the iconographic argument remains the most systematic treatment of the visual evidence available. The use of Athenian comedy as a source for popular attitudes, as distinct from the elevated discourse of philosophy, is methodologically important: Dover is careful to distinguish what philosophers theorised from what ordinary Athenians appear to have assumed, and the distinction matters for assessing how widely the idealised accounts reflected actual practice.

The active/passive framework has proven analytically durable far beyond the classical material. Foucault’s argument in the second and third volumes of The History of Sexuality draws directly on Dover; Halperin’s rigorous application of constructionist theory to classical evidence takes Dover’s schema as its empirical foundation. The framework has been extended, complicated, and contested, but it has not been replaced — which is the appropriate measure of a scholarly intervention of this kind.

Where It Strains

The argument that the eromenos experienced no desire or pleasure in the relationship — that the ideal passive partner yielded out of gratitude and admiration rather than any erotic response — is more contentious than Dover’s confidence implies. The literary evidence is more ambiguous than the iconographic, and subsequent scholars, including Halperin, have challenged the claim as an overreading of the normative sources at the expense of the experiential ones. What citizen men were supposed to feel and what they actually felt may be less cleanly separated than the evidence allows Dover to conclude.

The geographical and social restriction of the evidence base is a more fundamental problem. “Greek homosexuality” is substantially “Athenian male citizen homosexuality in the fifth and fourth centuries BCE,” and Dover does not always flag the limitation adequately. The evidence from other Greek cities, other periods, and perspectives other than the male citizen is thin. The book’s title promises more than its evidentiary scope can deliver, and the subsequent scholarly debate has partly been an argument about what generalisation the Athenian evidence licenses.

Verdict

The foundational text and an indispensable reference. Dover’s achievement was to take a subject that serious scholars avoided and submit it to the same rigorous philological and iconographic analysis they would apply to any other aspect of classical culture — an act of scholarly nerve that shaped everything that followed. The framework he established has been complicated and extended by Halperin and others; the specific claims about the eromenos’s experience remain contested. Read it before Halperin, who builds on it explicitly, and alongside Foucault, whose historical claims about the ancient world it partially grounds and partially unsettles.