Once, the very sight and sound of an advancing line of Spartan soldiers had been enough to break the nerve of opponents, even before the shock of arms. In their signature scarlet capes, nodding horsehair helmet plumes, and close-ordered shields, each emblazoned with L (lambda, for 'Lacedaemon' or 'Laconia,' two names for the Spartan home territory), the Spartans appeared as a series of rippling horizontal lightning bolts, the unbroken lines of warriors striding forward in measured lock-step to the shrill music of military pipers. Their capacity to move quickly over difficult terrain, concentrate their forces suddenly, and execute complex pre-battle tactical maneuvers was legendary. The shock of their final charge was as sure and deadly as the sky-god Zeus's thunder weapon.
Just a short generation before Leuctra, in 404 B.C., the Spartans had decisively beaten Athens, long their most dangerous enemy. In so doing Sparta had seized the hegemony of the Greek world. Leuctra must have seemed to many observers of the contemporary scene like rain from a clear blue sky. Yet, in hindsight, when we look more closely at the history of Sparta as a military society, the collapse at Leuctra starts to make sense. By the time they met the Thebans there, Sparta had long been in serious trouble; it was only a matter of time before someone found a way to exploit Sparta's profound inner weaknesses. The story of Sparta's decline and fall is an object lesson in the intimate relationship between social organization and military power.
The city-state of Sparta, occupying