Spartan Enforcement of the Autonomy Clause

The peace gave Sparta words sharper than swords. Commissioners traveled with the text of the King’s Peace and the authority to enforce ‘autonomy’—a term that in practice meant dismantling rival power blocs. In Boeotia, Spartan envoys ordered the dissolution of the Theban-led League; in the Peloponnese, they told Corinth to end its union with Argos. Compliance was measured in pieces: one league broken into ten poleis; one merger split back into two [12][19].

In Corinth’s agora, the announcement fell with the weight of bronze. Men who had voted for unity now heard that their alliance violated ‘autonomy.’ The legalism was neat; the politics were not. Thebes, forced to watch Boeotian towns stand alone, saw the design: isolate, then dominate. The Cadmeia housed a Spartan garrison—the perfect notary to the treaty’s intent [12][14].

Spartan harmosts stood behind the law. The sound of their boots in the council house blended with the whispered calculations of local notables who owed their seats to Laconian favor. Autonomy meant, paradoxically, a new kind of dependence: each city ‘free’ to be managed by a Spartan-friendly board and a few hundred soldiers near the citadel [1][12].

Agesilaus embraced the instrument. He had seen how quickly ships sink; he preferred provisions that last: clauses, pillars, and compliant councils. Yet the very clarity of the enforcement made enemies bolder. Exiles plotted in Athens; Boeotian towns resented that ‘autonomy’ forbade them to federate while allowing Sparta to marshal the Peloponnesian League. The hypocrisy rang in every sanctuary where the treaty stood [7][19].

By 382, the contradiction burst into action. A Spartan officer, Phoebidas, marching north, saw a chance to replace legal fictions with a coup. He seized the Cadmeia in Thebes with help from local collaborators—no clause cited, only opportunity—and Agesilaus defended the move as useful. The letter of the treaty had become a fig leaf for naked power [3][12].