Today we will begin with an excellent query as posited by one of your fellow readers, Inês from Portugal: 

“Hello Classical Wisdom! Happy new year! 

I'm a huge fan of your work and all things of the classics.

I've been attending your webinars and I think that a great theme for discussion would be "The classics and Nationalism."

I'm from Portugal, and I've been noticing that all Nationalist pages on instagram make great references to the classics, be it the philosophy, the architecture, the Roman legions, the art, etc.

I think this theme would be extremely interesting and I personally am a Nationalist, and I don't think that Nationalism has any type of bad meaning.

The classics are the backbone of European/ Western civilization, and with a lot of young people searching for inspiration and references of their culture and countries growing day by day, I thought it would be an interesting idea to bring to you. 

Thank you so much for the amazing work you do, and I look forward to all your new activities.”

First off, a big thank you to Inês for writing in with ideas for investigation. I think it’s important that we can inspire a dialogue and that we can hear and learn directly from each other... after all, we want nothing more than to continue ‘the great conversation’. 

As to the request on hand, it is an interesting history of Classics and Nationalism... not all of it so cheerful, unfortunately. 

In fact, there have been many times when the Classics were used to justify or prop up one or another political faction, some of which have had a downright negative impact on civilization. Mussolini’s grand archeological works and Hitler’s bizarre search for Atlantis pop to mind. 

And this hasn’t happened just in Europe either... 

Even today in China, ancient Chinese works are used to promote the current government. 

Over in the new world, Rafael Trujillo, the 1930’s Dominican Republic Dictator, invoked the classics as vindication for their dominance on the island of Hispaniola. 

But it’s not just 20th-century fascists that promote themselves as the inheritors of a grand European tradition that originated in Greece and Rome.  

Anyone remember Virgil? Wasn’t the Aeneid essentially Augustus’ great endeavor to associate himself to the ancient Greeks? To illustrate his classical lineage? 

All this to say, is that before we delve into the themes of Nationalism and the Classics... perhaps we should first ask if they should be connected at all? Some of these efforts have resulted in remarkable works and discoveries... others not so much. 

So this week we ask: Should the Classics be used for Nationalistic endeavors? What benefits or dangers come from this collusion? 

As always, you can comment below or write to me directly. 

by Ed Whelan, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom

The influence of Plato on western philosophy has been immense; some of his key thoughts are encapsulated in the Allegory of the Cave. This presents some of his key philosophical ideas on the nature of truth, reality and even society. It is essential for understanding the Athenian thinker’s concepts which are still as relevant today as they were over two thousand years ago.

Plato’s Metaphysics

To understand Plato’s Allegory, it is first necessary to grasp some of his major ideas. In his masterpiece, the Republic, he outlines his theory of reality. He proposed that there are two worlds. There is the world of the senses that we know, which is always in flux, and unreliable. Then there was a second world; a timeless and unchanging world of eternal ideas or forms. What we call ‘truth’ is knowledge of these forms or ideas, which are the models for all that we perceive in the physical realm.  This world of Ideas is the ‘real’ world. According to Plato we can know the Forms by the practice of reasoning and philosophy.

Plato’s Allegory of the Cave

Plato frequently used parables and allegories to communicate his arguments and to make points. The Allegory of the Cave, which appears in the Republic, was written by Plato to develop his ideas on reality and knowledge. It was designed to show the dichotomy between opinion and belief, and the real and the unreal. The story is told in the form of a dialogue between Socrates and Plato’s brother Glaucon.  

In the allegory, Plato has Socrates narrate that there were a number of prisoners chained together in a cave for a great period of time. There is a fire behind them, and between the fire and the captives are people carrying objects. The flames cast shadows on the walls before the prisoners who think that they are real.  So, the prisoners mistakes shadow-play for reality.  One day one of the prisoners’ escapes, and see the fire and realizes that what he understood to be real was only shadows.

He then explores the world outside the cave, and understands the nature of reality for the first time.  The prisoner realizes that the other chained prisoners need to know this, and that this would encourage them to escape the cave. On his return to the cave, the prisoner was half-blind because his eyes were not used to the sunlight. None of the prisoners would believe him and now think that he is blind. They refuse to try and leave the cave, and continue to believe that the shadows that they see is reality. In the dialogue, Plato has Socrates state that if the chained prisoners were freed, they would kill their liberators.

The Allegory of the Cave and Reality

Socrates, who is really only speaking the ideas of Plato, explains the allegory to Glaucon.  The cave and its shadows are the world of the sense, the fire is the sun, and the external world is the realm of Ideas. Most people are only aware of the shadows and not the real world. This is because they assume knowledge of the senses, and not the forms. Most people live in ignorance as a result. The escape of the prisoner from the darkness to the outside world reflects the rise of the soul from the sensible realm to the that of the Ideas, which is where truth resides. Like the prisoner, those who see the Forms will reject the old view of reality and want to know more about the truth, which can only be known intellectually. The allegory shows the two-fold nature of Plato’s view of reality. It also argues that everyone can know the truth, like the escaped prisoner, and become wise, if they only turn their mind to the Forms. It also shows, however, that enlightenment is challenging, as seen in the escaped prisoner’s problems with the chained men in the cave. This is because the majority are in error, like the chained prisoners, and are hostile to the wise who have seen the real world because they contradict popular beliefs.

The Allegory and Truth

For Plato, only those who know the Forms know the truth and should be leaders. Because of their knowledge, they understand goodness and abhor the immoral. As a result, they have a duty to help their fellows who are still in ignorance. Those who only know the shadows (sensible world) are the majority of people and are ignorant and irrational.  Those who have seen the Forms are wise and have knowledge of the goods. Plato believes that the rule of  Philosophers is the best form of government.  Because most people are ignorant, they are not fit to be involved in politics. This idea has been criticized as undemocratic as it argues that only the few should rule. Many commentators see in the allegory allusions to Socrates and how he was driven to his death by the Athenians. Socrates, like the prisoner who tried to tell the truth and urged people to change but was not believed and attacked instead. Several scholars have interpreted the Allegory as saying that those who know the truth will suffer for it like Socrates, because the minds of the majority are only directed at the unreal.

Conclusion

In the allegory, Plato presents many of his most profound and influential ideas. He used the story to illustrate the two-fold nature of reality, the nature of truth, belief, and opinion. The Athenian philosopher shows that people do not want to know the real and be free. Plato  uses his arguments to justify rule by the wise or philosophers. He also demonstrates that enlightenment was hard and that the wise often suffer if they try and help others. 

Reference

Plato (2000). The Republic. Harmondsworth: Penguin.

Juge, Carole. “The Road to the Sun They Cannot See: Plato's Allegory of the Cave, Oblivion, and Guidance in Cormac McCarthy's ‘The Road'." The Cormac McCarthy Journal, vol. 7, no. 1, 2009, pp. 16-30

By Kevin Blood

It was a widespread cult of enormous importance in the ancient world. Socrates' last words referenced its central figure. Their symbol is still recognizable today, worldwide - even if you don't know what it is, you've likely seen it. But what exactly was the cult of Asklepios?

Established towards the end of the sixth century B.C. in the ancient Greek city of Epidauros, the cult worshipped the ancient Greek god of healing and medicine, Asklepios. The Temple of Asklepios at Epidauros flourished as a healing centre thanks to the careful management of its priests, and the cult’s temples and sanctuaries spread and went on to provide health services for the people of the Graeco-Roman world.

According to myth, Asklepios was the son of the god Apollo, and a mortal woman, Koronis. Apollo loved Koronis, yet her father, King Phlegyas, arranged her marriage to a mortal man. Jealous, Apollo killed the groom with an arrow. In turn, the goddess Artemis killed the pregnant Koronis in the same manner. Apollo saved Asklepios from his mother’s womb, and he was then fostered and tutored by the centaur Kheiron, who taught him the healing arts of medicine.

Asklepios became such a skilled healer that he could raise the dead. At the request of Artemis, he restored her favourite, Hippolytus, to life. For his interference in matters of life and death, Zeus, the king of the gods, killed him with a thunderbolt crafted by the Cyclopes. Angered by this, Apollo killed the Cyclopes in revenge. After his death, Asklepios was worshipped as a god.  

This mythical history was first set in Thessaly. The priests of Epidauros, however, localised it and established Asklepios’ connection with their city. From there, other cult centres dedicated to Asklepios spread. One was established in Athens in 420/19, with the support of the playwright Sophocles.

His sanctuary at Epidauros came to be the site of quadrennial games, the Asklepieia, similar to other Panhellenic festivals, such as the Olympics. To accommodate these games, the sanctuary at Epidauros grew to include an amphitheater, a stadium, a gymnasium, and dormitories. However, the primary reason the sanctuary gained acclaim was for the healing rituals carried out by the priests of Asklepios. 

One such ritual carried out at Epidauros involved the sacred snakes of Asklepios. The snakes were a symbol of rejuvenescence (for the snake shedding its skin was believed to renew its youth) and blessed serpents were housed in the temples of the god; the snakes were thought to heal the sick by licking them. The symbol of the staff of Asklepios entwined with a snake is still today associated with medical organisations. 

Those who wished to be healed would be purified in the holy waters that flowed from the sanctuary’s sacred fountains; they partook in cleansing rituals involving sacrifices and ablutions. Only those free from blemish, both moral and physical, could enter the holy shrine. To prevent pollution, pilgrims abstained from sexual intercourse, and it was forbidden to die or give birth within the sanctuary. Once in the temple proper, they were taken to the ‘incubation place’, which was forbidden to the impure. Divination also took place there. This involved the god’s visiting sleepers in dreams, whereupon he revealed the right remedies.  

Alternatively, cure took the form of a consultation with the priests who would interpret advice given by the god.  This melding of cures with smart propaganda saw the sanctuary at Epidauros remain popular right up to A.D. fourth century.The renown of the sanctuary helped it morph from an oracular shrine dedicated to the practise of incubation, to a sizable complex of baths.  

Some scholars attribute the rise in popularity of the cult in democratic Athens as a response to the plague that devastated Athens (430-426 B.C.). It could be that these cult sanctuaries in Athens provided some with healing and respite from the ravages of the plague. We do know that Asklepion sites were chosen for their natural beauty, spacious with clean air and pure, flowing, waters.

Written sources suggest the regime of cleansing, bathing and other ritual purifications were legitimately beneficial. The taking of the open air was said to be restorative. That's not to mention the powerful spiritual and religious benefits they believed they gained through ritual sacrifice and worship of a powerful health-giving deity.
The Hellenistic era saw shrines dedicated to Asklepios increase.  The Askelpion of Kos gained a status comparable to the centre at Epidauros. The popularity of the cult spread to Rome and throughout the Roman empire, providing important health services.

Even today, milennia after the fall of the Roman empire, the symbol of Asklepios can be seen emblazoned across ambulances and hospitals. It's good to know the legacy of the god is in good health.

by Brendan Heard, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom

The Roman world was a pagan society with a very strong moral code - but what can be hard for people to understand is that, while moral, that code was very different from our own. Religion was everywhere and part of everything Romans did. Religion’s role was to protect the state, the social order, and to maintain the reciprocal power-play between mortals and the gods. It was not necessarily a dualistic good/evil moral framework of absolutes. Or at least, the absolute rules for good and evil they had were not the same as ours today.

It takes imagination to achieve a distanced and appreciative understanding of life in ancient Rome. Religion in their age, in many ways, had very little to do with morality, in the sense that its purpose was not to ensure you were good or bad. Rather, it was more of a functional backdrop of the casual relations of daily life.

This is evident is the gods the Romans worshipped. In Rome, the gods were everywhere and present in all actions. The Roman gods, in particular, often had a very direct, practical ‘function’. For example: Terminus was the god of landmarks and boundaries, Cloacina was the goddess of the sewer system, and Forculus was the god of the integrity of doors, along with Cardea (goddess of hinges).

Their religion expanded through conquest, and so did its pantheon. In time, the majority of the most prominent gods in the Roman pantheon were equivalents to Greek counterpart deities. Jupiter was an equivalent of Zeus, Minerva was an equivalent of Athena, and Neptune was a counterpart of Poseidon, amongst many others. Despite this, certain gods were distinct and unique to the Romans, such as Janus (although these gods often had antecedent figures).

If you wanted success in whatever you were doing, the proper god had to be respected, as a practical matter of action. Magic and divining, respectful rituals, veneration for ancestral blood-lines, sacrifice, were all essential components of what was a richly structured and deeply strict sense of civic duty. Candles lit the faces of ancestors, continually, as they also burned for individual household gods. A Roman god wanted recognition and respect: a small part of each meal was shared with the gods, with a direct fear that negligence would lead to negative consequences in the real world.

Because Roman religion was not dualistic, there was not exactly a strict categorizing of ‘good and evil’, with one leading towards heaven and the other to hell. Despite this, they did, however, hold broadly similar conceptions of the afterlife, in the form of Tartarus, a primordial prison which held the defeated Titans, and Elysium, a blessed island that allowed a happy afterlife for heroes. Tartarus and Elysium are, however, outliers; there was little emphasis on moral duality. The flip-side to this was a more unabashedly adroit attitude towards violence, revenge, and conquest.

In fact, in many ways Roman cult activities were designed to keep blood and death at the forefront of public awareness, as was the circus maximus and the violence of gladiator battles. They felt there was great wisdom in being reminded of death, constantly. There probably is.

The Romans believed in fate (fatum) - not in a world of random occurrence, but of the unfolding of the intelligible will and order of the gods. Their world was full of sacred mystery. They believed in family and blood-lines (patrician lineage) and personal sacrifice for honour, above concepts of personal good as manifest in individual personal mercies and pities. Though they had less strictness of ‘metaphysical law’, they knew religion as a force of action in reality. Oracles and soothsayers played an important part in private and public life, even affairs of state and vital military decisions. The divine law did not hinder their human freedom of choice, but it was important for them to feel connected with the hidden (religious world) in the sense that they were fulfilling the divine plan and honouring their ancestors in their choices and actions. In that sense they did not seek religious solace (or conviction) in prayer and forgiveness, but in ‘fateful action’.

As we can see, there are many fundamental and stark differences in their attitude to religion and morality. It can be hard for us to understand, to frame our thoughts from their moral point of view when trying to make sense of their world, yet their aims and desires are often familiar and relatable.

Regardless, many people do not realize the relative nature of moral concepts they take for granted as universal, that were very different in the past.

by Sean Kelly, Managing Editor, Classical Wisdom

The myth of Elektra, daughter of Agamemnon, seems to have held a particular power on the minds of tragedians - all three of the great Greek playwrights wrote a version which survives to this day. While they are all working with the same core myth, the versions each have some significant differences from one another, which are revealing of the different worldviews of the playwrights, as well as changes in Greek society. By taking a deeper look at these plays we can come to a greater understanding of the respective playwrights, and also the multi-faceted figure of Elektra herself…

Aeschylus' Libation Bearers

The earliest extant Greek tragedy on this subject matter is the version by Aeschylus. Entitled Libation Bearers (or Choephori in ancient Greek), it is the middle play of the Oresteia trilogy, which was first performed in 458 BC. This play takes place many years after the trilogy’s opener Agamemnon, in which the title character is murdered by his wife Clytemnestra upon his homecoming (or nostos) from the Siege of Troy. Now, his son Orestes and daughter Elektra have grown. Orestes was raised separate from the royal household, but his sister Elektra was brought up by Clytemnestra and her lover Aegisthus, cousin of Agamemnon.

Unlike the other versions of the play we will look at, the character of Elektra in Libation Bearers is more of a supporting role; the protagonist is undoubtedly Orestes. Nevertheless, she is central to the play’s action, particularly the graveside scene. At the beginning of the play, Orestes is returning to his birthplace. He is bound by his moral code to avenge the death of his father, yet he is also forbidden by that same moral code to kill his mother. Trapped by the contradiction, the play follows his journey to a deadly confrontation with his mother. Yet, an important stop on that journey is the graveside of his murdered father.

Here Orestes unexpectedly encounters his sister. Reunited, the two then take part in ritual to call upon the ghost of their slain father. Agamemnon's ghost doesn't actually appear in the action of the play. Nevertheless, the ritual is impactful on both siblings: they commit to a plan to murder their mother. Although they conspire together, Orestes faces and kills both his mother and Aegisthus alone. The subject of his guilt and legal culpability is then the cornerstone for the trilogy’s third entry, the Eumenides.

Even though Elektra doesn't appear again the Eumenides, it was far from the last time the character would appear on stage...

Sophocles' Elektra

We can't be certain when Sophocles' version of Elektra was first performed. It almost certainly followed the Aeschylus version, but we cannot be sure whether the Sophocles or Euripides version came next. The play deals with the same subject matter as Libation Bearers, but while the broad stokes of the story are the same, there are some crucial differences.

Perhaps the most notable departure from Aeschylus is the presence of a third sibling, a sister, Chryosthemis. Whereas Sophocles' Elektra lives away from the palace, due to her disdain for her mother's actions, Chrysothemis is much more complacent. She is content to live in the palace, and is much less preturbed by her family's violent history than their sister. Their dynamic is highly reminiscent of the relationship between Antigone and Ismene in Sophocles' Antigone play, wherein one sister is driven to action, whereas the other is more passive. The addition of Chrysothemis, and the emphasis on the relationship between the two sisters, places greater focus on the role of Elektra in the violence that follows. Indeed, the play as a whole focuses much more on Elektra's inner feelings and emotions. She mourns the devastation her family has been put through, but she is also a figure of strong resolve.

Euripides' Elektra

The Euripides version of the play, also simply titled Elektra, likewise naturally places much more focus on Elektra herself than Libation Bearers. Here, however, her characterization is notably different, and significantly darker than other versions.

There is a suggestion that Elektra may be something of an 'unreliable narrator'. We don’t actually see any of the cruelty this Elektra insists she experiences at the hands of Clytemnestra and Aegisthus. Wheneever they do appear on stage, it is surprising how unlike Elektra’s descriptions they are. Clytemnestra is concerned for her daughter's well being, and the similarly considerate Aegisthus is far removed from the figure Elektra describes dancing on the grave of her father.

There is a suggestion that this Elektra is somewhat unbalanced. Furthermore, this version is a something of a zealot for the violence and brutalty of the Homeric code.

Like in Libation Bearers, Orestes arrives to avenge his father. This time, however, Elektra directly takes part in the violence herself, alongside her brother. Whereas previous versions showed a great deal of ambiguity over the potential justification of the murders, Euripides, however, places much greater emphasis on how horrific the violence of the act is. Much like Euripides' Herakles or Medea, the play functions as a criticism of the Homeric code, by placing the brutality of its violence within a family.

Across the three versions we can see a trajectory, from the somewhat sidelined figure of Libation Bearers, to the more central figure of Sophocles, to the more frenzied interpretation of Euripides. So many Elektras, so little time. The only way to really understand the character is to read them all!

by Ed Whelan, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom

We all know January is the first month of the year. Many may even know the month is named after the Roman god Janus. Yet what do we know about this mysterious, two-headed figure?

Janus was the god of entrances, thresholds, and transition. Yet unlike many other Roman gods, which had Greek counterparts (the Roman Venus and the Greek Aphrodite, for instance) Janus was a god that was unique to the Romans. An understanding of this god, therefore, can help us to understand the Romans more distinctly.

What are the Origins of Janus?

Janus was probably an Indo-European deity and possibly of Etruscan origin. The name Janus probably comes from the old Latin word for entrance. The worship of this god was especially important in the public religion of Rome. Rites and ceremonies were held in his honor, and they were overseen by the priest known as the ‘King of the Sacred.’  The Romans believed that he was one of the first Kings of Rome, but even they knew little about him and his cult was very mysterious.

What was Janus’ role in Roman myth?

In the fragmentary myths that have survived, he was the embodiment of change and transformation. He is described in some sources as a creator deity who attended the birth of the Roman Gods, such as Jupiter. In another ancient account, Janus arrived in Italy by ship, and was a God of agriculture. Janus was often shown to be the assistant of Saturn and helped him to create a Golden Age. In some, sources he married a nymph, and their son was Tiberinus, after whom the River Tiber was named. The deity of transition was also responsible for the calendar.

The Worship of Janus

The worship of the god was thought to derive from the time of Romulus. There were many ceremonial gateways in Rome, known as Jani. They were seen as auspicious for entrances and leave-takings. Good or bad luck became attached to a person or army as they moved through these gateways. The most famous gateway in Rome was the Janus Geminus. This was the most important shrine dedicated to Janus. A temple on the Janiculum hill was believed to be the place where the god resided, but this temple has never been found by archaeologists. It was a square bronze structure with two doors, one closed inward and the other outwards. This was regarded as the symbolic threshold for first the Roman Republic and later the Empire.

The Romans believed that they should be kept closed in times of peace and open in times of war. The war-like Romans rarely closed the gates for an extended period.  They were closed by Augustus and Nero, who used it for propaganda purposes in the First Century AD. The Salii priests would close and open the doors. In the early Roman Republic this would signify the beginning or end of the season for war. In ancient agricultural societies, this was only conducted during the Spring and Summer. The citizens of the Eternal City believed that Janus oversaw the start and end of wars but was not technically a ‘god of war’.

Janus evolved over time, and he was also associated with travel, trade, and sailing. Many merchants celebrate the cult of Janus as a result. Janus was also summoned at the beginning of any public ceremony, such as the Senate opening. He was also honored at significant moments in life, for example weddings, births, and the harvest. Private citizens would seek Janus’ protection as they crossed the threshold in his home.  In myth and art, the god was shown as bearded and having two faces looking different ways. This expressed the liminal nature of this enigmatic deity.

Janus and the New Year

Janus was associated with the calendar and time. His association with transitions meant that he was often seen as a god of time. Janus was especially associated with celebrations around the New Year in mid-winter. Janus’ main feast was seemingly on January 9^th, although a number of scholars dispute this. The god was believed to oversee the transition from one year to the next. Because of this, the Romans named the first month in their calendar after him. Later cultures adopted the Roman calendar and took over several of their month’s names. Today the month of January is named after the mysterious Janus.

The end of Janus

The Janiculum was eventually converted into a Christian Church. It seems that small groups of pagans continued to worship the god and during the Gothic Wars (sixth century AD), the doors of Janus were opened again. There were several medieval scholars who believed that witches and wizards worshipped Janus in their ceremonies.

Janus and Roman Religion

Janus has no real equivalent in Greek religion, and he is a uniquely Roman god. They worship him because they were preoccupied with the principles of transformation and transitions. The various cults dedicated to Janus were all thought by Romans to help to ensure that any transitions were not dangerous and hazardous. In particular, Romans sought his help to ensure that the transition from peace to war, and war to peace were successfully managed.

Conclusion

Janus offers us an insight into the worldview of the Romans. He was worshipped because he helped them to control changes and transitions and allowed them to understand time and the nature of the world. For the average Roman, the god personified important forces that that he wanted to control. In particular Janus was associated with the successful commencement and conclusion of war, which was critical for the martial Romans.

As a figure representing thresholds and transitions, there's perhaps no more fitting legacy than inspiring the name of the year's first month.

Further Reading

Ferguson, John (1985). The religions of the Roman Empire. Cornell, CA: Cornell University Press.

By Visnja Bojovic, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom

When we think of wine in the ancient world, the first thing that comes to mind is the Romans and their luxurious banquets. We know that wine was an important part of the Roman culture; there were even precise rules for the way and quantity in which it was to be consumed. However, while we do know that wine played an enormous part in the life of the ancient Romans, we have to bear in mind that most of the information we have about wine and drunkenness in Roman society come from literary sources. As such, the information we get from these sources is entirely susceptible to the requirements of the genre.

Horace

If you wanted to find the most ardent fan of wine, look no further – you have found a man who not only resorts to wine for pleasure, but claims that his work itself entirely depends on it:

No poetry could ever live long or delight us

That water-drinkers pen. Since Bacchus enlisted

Poets, the barely sane, among his Fauns and Satyrs,

The sweet Muses usually have a dawn scent of wine.

The most important role that Horace attributes to wine is that of a source of inspiration, and he claims that he cannot write until directed to by Bacchus, the god of wine. He does not know where Bacchus will take him, but this direction also depends on Horace’s mood, as well as the type of wine that he is drinking.

We all know the famous line “seize the day”. What some of us may not know, however, is that Horace uses wine more than anything else to demonstrate the importance of this attitude. He says that there is no way to know what gods have in store for us, so the solution is: “Be wise, strain the wine, and trim your long hope into a brief space … seize the day, trusting as little as possible in the next.” It is not useful to spend time thinking about bad things, and to get rid of these earthly cares, we should resort to wine.

Another important feature of wine, according to Horace, is its inability of being connected to the war in any way. He thinks that Bacchus brings only harmony, and that there is no place for war in the wine-drinking world. What is important to note, however, is the fact that Horace emphasizes the importance of moderation in drinking, and warns of the dangers if this moderation is not achieved.

Propertius

As mentioned above, the exaggerated appraisal of wine that can be found in the works of these poets should not be taken literally. That is to say that, most probably, they were not such passionate wine-drinkers in their private lives. This is especially true when it comes to Propertius. We know almost for sure that Propertius the man would not allow himself to fall under the temptations caused by excessive intake of wine. Propertius the poet, on the other hand, continues the elegiac tradition in the best way possible.

He uses wine to emphasize the passion in his poems, and it is an almost inevitable feature of the lovers’ encounters. Similar to Horace, for Propertius, wine is the source of inspiration, his muse. However, Propertius is a bit more realistic, taking into account that wine does not only solve lovers’ problems, but it also creates them. In his prayer to Bacchus, Propertius says: Through you lovers are joined, through you they are broken up.

The poet's ambivalent approach to wine can also be seen in the following verses:

Perish the man who discovered undiluted grapes and

first corrupted good water with nectar! … Beauty dies by wine, youth is broken by wine,

often a mistress does not know her own man because of wine

Tibullus

The two greatest passions of Tibullus are his lover and the countryside. For him, wine is an instrument that he uses to emphasize the importance of both, as it is not only related to love affairs, but also to the celebration of nature. When it comes to love though, he is a bit more moderate than his two colleagues. He takes Horace's stance that wine can dissolve earthly cares, but he also agrees with Propertius that it is not always the case.

Tibullus was in love with a married woman named Delia. You can imagine how much suffering this situation can cause, especially for an elegy poet. Therefore, only wine and sleep can provide him with a temporary relief:

Add merum, and restrain new grief with wine,

so that victorious sleep might occupy the eyes

of a tired man.

On the other hand, wine can also help him seduce Delia, or bring sleep to her husband, leaving some lovers' time to them. This poet's stance on wine was very ambivalent, which usually depended on the nature of the relationship in question. When he was suffering, not even the countryside could soothe his sadness. When things were going well, however, there was nothing better than enjoying wine outside:

Let the wines celebrate the day: There is no shame

in dripping with wine on a feast day, and clumsily moving

wobbly feet

Even though we know for sure that these poets were merely conforming to the requirements of the genre, we can still learn a lot of actual wine facts from them, and take great pleasure in reading about their struggles and passions.

After all, we have all been there, haven’t we?

It’s called the Imposter Syndrome and it’s usually touted about by life coaches to reassure the doubtful. For those who are prone to question their abilities, to feel as if they are actually an imposter rather than the expert they are portrayed as, this label can assuage their fears. 

You are fully capable, they confirm, the fact that you don’t feel that way is the falsehood. 

But is this true? 

On the other end of the spectrum is the famous Dunning-Kruger effect. 

This is a well established psychological effect that essentially explains how folks overestimate their abilities. In fact, the less one knows about something, the more confident they will be in expressing an opinion. 

We all have enough anecdotal experience of this effect to know what I’m going on about... from talking heads to annoying dinner guests, we’ve all been on the receiving end of overly confident ignorance. 

What we might not realise (or admit) is that we’ve all done it as well. 

You may not have fallen victim to it in your field of expertise... but there is A topic in which you have at one point or another claimed more understanding than you in fact have. 

This is where the boldness and brilliance of Socrates’ comments - that he can admit that he does not know that which he can not claim to know - rings relevant.

(And this is an important difference from the regular misquote that he simply does not know anything. Obviously Socrates knows a lot, he just doesn’t claim to know things which he doesn’t know. 

(See Richard Dawkins speaking about Jordan Peterson as a perfect example here - at 4:20) 

Okay great. What’s the question you may be asking? We should all practice a bit of humility... try to learn more about the fields in which we don’t know or keep quiet on those subjects. Simple. 

Well, the waters get murky when you see some of the negative consequences of the Dunning-Kruger effect. 

For instance, even though in a study the women and men performed equally in their scientific abilities, because the women felt less confident, they did not enter in the science fair. 

Likewise, we regularly see society promoting, praising and rewarding confidence - even over-under deserved confidence. Who gets the raise? The person who asked for it, of course. 

At this point, the wisdom of Virgil echoes in our ears and in the history books: Fortune favors the bold. 

So where does that leave us? Should we know that we know nothing? Or should we quell those worries and march ahead? 

As always, you can write me directly or comment below. 

But before you go, a quick bit of housekeeping. 

This year’s Essential Greeks course will begin January 15th! If you haven’t taken our Essential Greeks course, you can register for it here.

Former students LOVED the course, for instance Steven S. wrote to us saying: 

“I enjoyed the course immensely and found it most intellectually thought-provoking and enlightening. Many thanks to you for offering such an educational and stimulating experience.”

While Bill V. said:

“Essential Greeks has been a very entertaining, edifying, and–as whenever one engages that culture–inspiring on-line course. Thanks for the enjoyable and motivating experience.” 

Start 2022 with the Essential Greeks. Make sure to register before January 15th!

Earlier this year we launched our inaugural Stoic Essay competition... and today I'm excited to announce the winner! 

We asked how Stoicism can help in our modern lives and were fortunate to have Donald Robertson, renowned Stoic and author of "How to Think Like a Roman Emperor", judge our submissions. 

I'd like to officially congratulate Lia Pas on her winning essay on Stoicism and chronic Illness... Lia has worked hard to turn her illness into inspiration with the aid of the ancient philosophy of Stoicism. You can learn a bit more about Lia and the stoic influences in her life in the very short clip below. 

As winner of the Stoic Essay Competition, Lia has won $500 as well as the feature article in this month's Classical Wisdom Litterae Magazine, coming out this week. 

If you aren't already a Classical Wisdom Member or magazine subscriber, you can get the magazine here.

End of Year Sale! Enjoy an additional 25% OFF this week ONLY.

To follow Lia's artwork, please go to:

website: https://liapas.com/ 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lia_pas/

Twitter: https://mobile.twitter.com/lia_pas

Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/lia_pas

It’s hard to get into the Christmas spirit here. 

There are no Christmas carols playing in the shops. It is impossible to find a live Christmas tree. Decorations are rare and there isn’t much point putting up lights when it gets dark so late. 

On top of all that, it’s stinking hot. Who would want hot cocoa or mulled wine in this heat!? 

Nonetheless your holiday loving editor persists. I found a cute (fake) tree and decorated it the best I could. I happily jumped at one entrepreneurial baker’s offering of a gingerbread house kit (and dutifully told all the other expat parents)... and I force my poor husband to put on the Christmas tunes here in the house whenever possible.

You see, in this predominantly Catholic country, Christmas still belongs in the realm of the religious. It’s a family affair rather than a commercial endeavor. Didn’t they get the memo?? 

And it is in this stark contrast that those of us who originally hail from the northern regions of the world become aware that many of our Christmas traditions are, in fact, quite pagan. 

This will come as no surprise to you, dear reader. You are no doubt aware of all the Celtic, Germanic, Norsk, and Roman vestiges that can be found in modern day Christmas. From Saturnalia’s ‘best of days’, to mistletoe and Santa Claus, it appears that all over the northern hemisphere, cultures find a way to mark the winter solstice, to bring light in the dead of winter. (Which is probably why it feels so counterintuitive to celebrate in the height of summer.)

This widely spread ritual (one that spans both distance and time) brings us to this week’s mailbag question: 

Why do we celebrate holidays in the first place? What is the purpose? And why is it so universal? 

As always, you can comment below or write to me directly here. 

Io Saturnalia and Merry Christmas to all!  

by Ed Whelan, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom

We are all familiar with Santa Claus, at least in the western world.

The inspiration for the modern Santa was the Christian Saint Nicholas (285-342/343AD). Saint Nicholas was a famed miracle worker, known for his charity, and the patron saint of sailors, pawn brokers, children and others. The story of Saint Nicholas is essential to understand the evolution of the story of Santa, and also offers us a unique insight into Christianity in Late Antiquity.

The Life of Saint Nicholas

Saint Nicholas was probably a historical figure, and by the 6^th century AD churches were dedicated in his name. We know very little about the real Saint Nicholas, and our sources concerning his life come from centuries after his death. Many of these are based on oral traditions and Christian works. It is possible that many of the stories of the Saint are based on the pagan philosopher Apollonius of Tyana.

According to the sources, Saint Nicholas was born in Patara, Lycia (modern Turkey) into a wealthy Christian family sometime in 285 AD. He was a very pious young man, and was orphaned very young. Some stories claim that much of his inheritance was stolen. Despite this, he was noted for his charity and almsgiving. In one story, he secretly gave away his money to the father of three poor girls so that they could marry. He travelled to the Holy Island, and during his voyage there he was able to miraculously calm a storm and save his ship. Because of this and other miracles, he is the patron saint of sailors.

His uncle was the Bishop of Myra (Demre in Turkey). The young saint went to visit his uncle, but discovered that he had died. The local Christian community then elected him their bishop, which was the custom in Late Antiquity. During Emperor Diocletian’s persecution of the Christians (303-313 AD), it is claimed that Nicholas was arrested and imprisoned. He miraculously survived, and went on to become a leader in the Christian Church during the reign of Constantine the Great. There is some evidence that Nicholas attended the Council of Nicaea, and that he was a champion of Orthodoxy. In one account, he is alleged to have slapped the face of the heretical Arius.

Saint Nicholas was clearly a man of some standing. He is reputed to have stopped soldiers looting civilians in his province. A well-known legend has him saving the lives of three generals whose execution was ordered by the Emperor Constantine. These tales are indicative of the real influence and political power that Christian bishops had in the Roman Empire by the 4^th Century AD. It is claimed by several authors that Saint Nicholas died on December 6^th 342/343 AD. His bones were eventually brought to the Italian city of Bari, and this is why in some account he is referred to as Saint Nicholas of Bari. His relics are buried in the Basilica San Nicola. Forensic scientists have tested a bone fragment and established that it dates from the 4^th century AD. Today, Saint Nicholas is still worshipped as a saint by many Christians, especially members of the Orthodox Churches. There is an island named after the Christian bishop off the southern coast of Turkey.

From Saint to Santa Claus

After his death, many stories were told about the miracles of St Nicholas. Indeed, he is often referred to as 'Nicholas the Wonderworker'. Because of his charity and his kindness to the young, he became the patron saint of children. In one story, he brought three children back from the dead who had been murdered by a butcher who intended to sell their flesh as meat during food shortages. His cult grew, and Theodosius III ordered a Basilica to be built over his grave.

During the Middle Ages, the cult of Saint Nicholas spread all over Europe and the Near East. During the Reformation, his cult was suppressed in many lands, but continued to flourish in Catholic and Orthodox societies. In the Dutch Republic, by the 17^th century Saint Nicholas was celebrated on the 6^th of December. During these celebrations, children would receive gifts. The Dutch version of Saint Nicholas, affectionately known as Sinterklass was brought to America before the Revolution.

The America poet, Clement Clarke Moore, wrote a poem about Saint Nicholas, and he portrayed him as a portly and cheerful man, not at all like the pious and ascetic Christian bishop. Moore also described Nicholas as riding in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeers. This came straight out of the imagination of the poet. In the 1880s, the famous cartoonist Thomas Nast began to draw Saint Nicholas in a red suit with white fur. By the early 20^th century, Saint Nicholas had morphed into Santa Claus (or Father Christmas).

Conclusion

Saint Nicholas inspired the stories of Santa Claus, probably because of his legendary charity and kindness to children. In reality he was a Christian saint who likely played a not insignificant role in Late Roman religion and society. The dramatic transformation from Saint to Santa demonstrates how narratives can shift.

Will YOU get a visit from Saint Nicholas this year?

by Brendan Heard, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom

We love to learn about ancient Egypt today…but what did the Egyptians learn about? Was their education system at all like the ancient Greek education system?

It is not possible for us today to know the complete details of Ancient Egyptian education, or to trace precisely its history. We do, however, know some things, and there is clear evidence of a state teaching system which existed throughout the many long-lived dynasties of the Pharaohs. It has been speculated that education began (along with recorded Egyptian history) with the Old Kingdom of 3000 BC. There are some remarkable similarities to our system today, and archaeological evidence has verified images of children seated at desks in classrooms, taking instruction from a teacher who is seated at a larger desk.

From what we know, their actual curriculum was not unfamiliar, consisting of common subjects with particular attention paid to: mathematics, astronomy, geometry, reading, writing, geography, music, sports, manners, medicine, and moral instruction. Education was held in high regard, and typically anyone who had the means sent their children to school when they reached a certain age.

Due to the limited number of schools, lower class people often could not send their children, and they were educated to the best of their ability at home. Girls also were not permitted to go, as education in these things was not considered important for them. They were instructed at home by their mothers, with the expectation that they would become wives and mothers themselves, tutored in the arts of cooking, sewing, religion, and reading. While girls could not go to school, most could be given advanced instruction in what was considered suitable disciplines, such as dancing, weaving, and baking. Girls from noble families had the privilege to be taught politics, history, the arts, as well as reading, writing, and ciphering. Many were also given instruction on supervising household servants and slaves.

There was an education option for artisans and the working class, associated with craft guilds (an unbroken classical tradition which only ended in the 19th century). At the age of 14, middle- and lower-class boys left formal education to work as apprentice farmers, masons, carpenters, etc, to their fathers. For both poor and rich, education of some sort was necessary, and generally the course of that education (craft-school, home-school, elite-school) was ordained by your family’s occupation, which the children were expected to maintain. For the elite of Egyptian society, royal offices remained in the same families for generations, as did farmland to farming families. Thus, it was customary for children to be instructed in what was considered the family discipline. A son was commonly referred to as ‘the staff of his father’s old age’, meaning he assisted him in the performance of his duties.

Schooling generally began at the age of 7. The same as today, school started in the morning with a midday break before commencing for the rest of the afternoon. School supplies for younger students consisted of a wooden writing tablet which could be wiped clean, and educational books (called Kemty) were written vertically rather than horizontally. Older students were permitted papyrus. The schools were generally part of a larger religious or government complex, and were taught either by priests or by scribes. Priests oversaw religious lessons, and scribes the secular lessons.

There were village ‘elementary’ schools that instructed a preliminary education, and these were followed by specialized schools for ‘secondary’ education. Typically, specialization instructed the necessary disciplines for common ‘middle class’ roles, such as doctors, scribes, etc. One of the few careers with upward mobility was as a scribe.

Throughout the education system there was a strict hierarchy, with different schools for each class, and this hierarchy continued into professional life, with the Prince’s School at the top (where the nobles and Pharaoh’s sons were educated). They themselves were instructed by the Vizier, in specialized higher education which was focused on producing skilled individuals. In that sense expectations were the same throughout the hierarchy. Young boys who showed extreme promise were often allowed to attend The Prince’s school as well, and for them this was a great honor.

Archeological discoveries have shown how Egyptian classrooms resembled modern ones, with school rules written on the walls. Punishment could be severe, including beatings and spending time in stocks. Boys who failed to learn their trade well were often sent away and forced to set up their life in a new town.

In Ancient Egypt, religious education and philosophy were taught alongside secular subjects, impressing upon students a strong moral foundation. They believed you became wise by following moral principles, such as truth.

There is no doubt ancient Egyptians held education in high regard and saw it as a privilege. It is a testimony to their success.

Well, I will certainly delve into controversial waters today dear reader.

I do think it’s important though, perhaps especially because it’s so hard to discuss. 

The concept of “Race” as a human categorization is all the rage. It’s something that filters the media, the arts, permeates our culture and is seen to affect our work, education and our very way of thinking...You can’t spend five minutes online without seeing the word “race”, and there’s plenty of evidence to show that keeps increasing. 

And yet “race” is so modern, such a new concept - we rarely stop to think about the premise itself. 

In fact, “race” was used to describe national affiliations and it wasn’t until the 17th century that it was ascribed to phenotypes. 

Nowadays we have very vague pseudoscientific definitions that appear to arbitrarily collect billions of people into arbitrary silos. 

At current estimate, there are 650 ethnic groups in 190 countries.... And yet we have, what? 4 or 5 races? (Anyone who has read Jared Diamond will not forget the Pygmies!)

Like the abstract lines that border nations and create wars, we have randomly chosen some folks to belong in one category and not another. Race is like the delineation of Chad... completely unnatural. 

But let’s look at examples, shall we? Take the two women below. They are thrown into the Caucasian category (the first) and the Asian category (then second) because... why exactly?

If we are going by phenotypes, then to be honest, it’s pretty hard to tell them apart. Even though one is Mexican and the other is Indian. 

And then we group together people who really have nothing in common, either with regards to their religion, language, culture...or even phenotypic characteristics.

These two women, for instance, belong to two different categories:

But if we are grouping them by today’s absurd categorizations, then they should be compared to... 

BLACK: Ethiopian first, second Nigerian
ASIAN: Japanese first, then Indian

Heck, as someone who has spent time in places like Kazakhstan - that expansive landscape that literally and figuratively spans the east and the west... ‘Race’ blurs through the imagined boundaries of nations and categories alike. 

Perhaps you have a few million people sticking out at the extremes.... From West Africa to the very northern corners of Norway... but the vast majority of the world’s population is a tiny point on a beautiful spectrum somewhere in between. 

And then to add an entirely new, and yet completely necessary, layer of confusion: The world is now so international, with ethinic groups blending at never before seen rates, that the spectrum of phenotypes is even more nuisanced. 

I have a friend, for instance, who told me people often mistake him for either a North African or an Indian... he happens to be... German-Bolivian. Phenotypically speaking, he literally could be from ANY CONTINENT, except Antarctica.

Oh, and he married a Croatian and lives in Mexico...

So where do you draw the line? And perhaps much more importantly... should a line be drawn? 

Now before we continue, I should clarify that I’m not saying Racism doesn’t exist.... Or that the history of racism hasn’t had a huge impact on societies and cultures around the globe, especially places like the United States (with its tragic past of race-based slavery), South Africa (Aparteid was lifted only 30 years ago) or Australia, where Aborigines were legally listed as ‘fauna’ until the 1970s. Similarly there is still ongoing violence against ‘racially’ different ethnic groups the world over... 

Obviously it does. People very horrifically and stupidly have and continue to judge others on their phenotypes. My point is that doesn’t make sense... because at the premise, the categorizations don’t make sense either. 

Now, if at this point you are wondering what all this has to do with the classics... fair enough, because this is a classical newsletter after all! What are we talking about race for?

Obviously the current western world’s media and discussions are heavily focused on the impact of ‘race’ - so as good philosophers (and I like to think that’s what we are), it’s only natural that we should wade in and first determine the terms. 

How can anyone discuss what to do about racial issues, if they haven’t defined race in the first place? 

Further, this inquiry continues the conversation we have been having of late about the need for categorizations at all. We know we have a human tendency to do this and the likes of Aristotle is a perfect example. Just because we enjoy making lists and trying to find order, doesn’t we should... doesn’t mean it’s virtuous... or does it?

There is, sadly, yet another reason to discuss this topic... and that is because the study of the classics itself is often drawn into question because of a perceived lack of racial diversity. 

Essentially, it’s considered totally fine to cancel the classics because it’s a bunch of dead white guys... 

The fact that race and racial differences were not part of the ancient world (or really any world pre-17th century) makes it a pretty stupid reason to cancel them... Adding to the argument is the reality that the ‘Classical’ period, which lasted over a thousand years and included a territory spanning from England to India was, in fact, extremely diverse.

Nonetheless, we would like to address the question at hand. 

What is “race”? Does it really exist? Is its concept useful? And should we continue to use it? 

 As always you can write to me directly or comment below.

by Andrew Rattray

If you’re anything like me, I’m sure you’ll have noticed the bookshelves of your local store positively groaning with all manner of self-help books; stylish tomes offering a route to peacefulness and serenity. It’s no surprise that the pressures of our modern life, particularly stressed by the ongoing difficulties of the pandemic, are driving many to search for techniques and approaches that might offer them some peace in these trying times. 

What’s particularly interesting is how two different philosophies that have seen a resurgence of interest in the Western world both arrived at such similar conclusions for how to live a happy life, despite being separated by hundreds of years and thousands of miles. I’m speaking of course about Buddhism and Stoicism. The convergent evolution of the two outlooks, despite the vastly different environments in which they developed, has equipped adherents of each with remarkably similar approaches on how to overcome the challenges we all face in our lives. In fact, certain aspects are so similar that some historians have even deigned to theorise that perhaps there was some exchange of ideas between the forefathers of each ideology, although this idea has not been widely accepted. The similarities are more than likely a simple quirk of history. 

Stoicism was originally known as ‘Zenoism’; named for its founder, Zeno of Citium. Zeno was very wealthy and operated as a merchant until his ship was wrecked on a trading journey. He survived and travelled to Athens, where he ultimately came under the tutelage of the Cynic philosopher Crates of Thebes, before finally developing his own philosophical ideas which he went on to share with others. Interestingly, the name of the philosophy was changed to prevent the teachings becoming a cult of personality. Instead, the philosophy adopted the name of where it was preached, at the Stoa Poikile, a public hall in Athens.

Stoicism is an eminently practical philosophy focused on how to live a good life and free oneself from emotional burdens. Stoics believe that we can free ourselves from the effect of the external world and live a good life by living in accordance with the four virtues: courage, temperance, justice, and wisdom. The central thrust of the philosophy has always hinged around accepting life for what it is, and living in the moment, as a cure for the woes of the human condition. Suffering is merely a perception, the Stoics say, and that by changing our perceptions we can change our outlook. Indeed, a key goal of any aspiring Stoic is to develop an internal understanding of control; that by understanding what is within our control we can better accept those things that are not. Epictetus teaches us as much, ‘The more we value things outside our control, the less control we have.’ 

Modern Buddhism was founded by a man called Siddhartha Gautama, who lived and taught philosophical and spiritual teachings in the region around the border between modern day Nepal and India. Although his life is described in early Buddhist texts, the specific details are somewhat contested; however modern historians do agree that Gautama was a real historical figure. Buddhist texts describe how Gautama was born into aristocracy and raised in a life of immense opulence. Ultimately, however, he cast off these luxuries and spent significant time reflecting and meditating on the nature of life. He gained an understanding of the cycle of birth and rebirth (a common belief of various religions of the region both then and now) and how to free oneself from it. The title, Buddha, can be roughly translated as ‘Enlightened One’. It was granted to Gautama after he spent a significant period of time meditating beneath a tree, wherein he reached a state of enlightenment (or nirvana), and achieved freedom from pain and suffering caused by attachments to the world around him. 

Buddhism is now one of the world's largest religions, with over 500 million adherents and different sects interpret the teachings of Buddha in different ways. There are, however, some general core ideals. For example, the ultimate goal of adherents of Buddhism is to free themselves from suffering and, like Gautama, to see the nature of reality clearly and to live according to that nature. Buddhists believe in the idea of the four noble truths; existence is suffering, suffering has a cause, there is an end to suffering, and there is a path to the end of suffering.

You see, Buddhists believe that all suffering is ultimately caused by our desires (or trishna) and that these desires generate karma, which fuels the process of samsara or birth and rebirth. Thus, in order to free ourselves from suffering, and the cycle of rebirth, we must reach a state of nirvana or a freedom from attachments and desires. To overcome this suffering and reach nirvana, the Buddhists follow what is called the Eightfold Path; interestingly, this is somewhat similar to the four virtues of Stoicism. It consists of cultivating the ‘right’ understanding, thought, speech, action, livelihood, effort, mindfulness, and concentration. This idea is captured within the teachings of the Buddha, who states “If with a pure mind a person speaks or acts, happiness follows him like a never departing shadow. If with an impure mind a person speaks or acts, suffering follows him like the wheel that follows the foot of an ox.”

Beyond their similar origins, stemming from the experiences of one individual, both Buddhism and Stoicism are practical philosophies and have shown a focus and willingness to open themselves up to all comers. Both are inclusive styles of thought that encourage us to consider our own internal ability to improve our state of mind by focusing upon the one thing we can control; the way in which we engage with the world around us.  By finding happiness within us, we can free ourselves from the ever-changing tides of life; this is the ultimate principle of both Stoicism and Buddhism. Though one key difference worth highlighting is the extent to which each adherent is expected to remove themselves from their attachments. While Buddhists seek to free themselves of all worldly attachments, Stoics believe that some aspects of life (known as preferred indifferents, such as physical health) are acceptable to pursue, provided one does not damage their virtue in the process. 

Buddhism is sometimes considered a bit of a curious religion as it has no deity, so to speak. Buddhists believe that Siddhartha Gautama, the ‘Buddha’, was a real man who was able to free himself from samsara, the cycle of birth and rebirth, through the eightfold path, but do not believe he was, or became, a god. Though Stoicism is not a religion in the way that Buddhism is, it does have a strikingly similar idea embedded within it; the Buddhists have the Buddha, the Stoics have the ‘Sage’. 

The Sage is a person who is completely free from the impact of the world around them. They have achieved the Stoic aim of no longer being impacted by the circumstances of their life, and instead have reached a state of total freedom, living in complete accordance with the four virtues. Sound familiar? This ideal is so rigid and has such a high bar in Stoicism that ancient philosophers were not sure anyone ever had, or ever could, reach that state, though some have argued that Diogenes of Sinope was perhaps a Sage. I believe that Siddhartha Gautama may well fit the Stoic ideal of a Sage as well.

For better or worse, modern society is driving us to look to ancient wisdom to endure the pressures of an unknown and uncertain future. Both Stoicism and Buddhism, so similar in their outlooks, offer practical routes away from the suffering implicit in day-to-day life. If we were all to spend a little more time following the eightfold path, and cultivating the four virtues, we might find that those issues we’ve been grappling with don’t seem quite so severe. While you navigate the challenges of this modern life, remember, ‘A disciplined mind brings happiness.’

by Ed Whelan, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom

He is a towering figure of ancient myth.

He fought at Troy and appears in the Iliad. Yet he is remembered for something much greater. He was seen by the Romans as a paragon of virtue, and one of the founders of their city. One of the world's most enduring and influential pieces of literature, the Aeneid, was written about him. But who was Aeneas?

The origins of Aeneas

The Greek version of Aeneas is related in two sources: the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite and the Iliad. According to legends, he was the son of Anchises, a Trojan royal prince. His mother was the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite (Venus in Roman mythology). Aphrodite had made Zeus fall in love with a human woman; in retaliation, he made her fall in love with a human too, namely Anchises. Aeneas was then born on Mount Ida, and was at first raised by nymphs before being taken to his father in Troy.

In ancient Greek, he was known as Αἰνείας (Aineías). Aeneas is a Latin form of the Greek. It has been speculated that the Greek name Αἰνείας meant originally ‘terrible’ or agony. This could refer to his martial prowess, or relate to the fact that his mother predicted his life of struggle when he was born.

In the Iliad, Aeneas is a fairly minor figure, but he is still portrayed as a noble warrior who is notably pious. At first in the epic, he holds back from the fighting, because he is angry that he has not received recognition from Priam. Later, he leads a mission to retrieve the body of his brother-in-law Alcathous. He is shown as a commander of a group of Trojan allies. During his time in Troy, Aeneas is rescued twice by the gods because he is destined to have a great future…

Aeneas, the founder of Rome

The legend of Aeneas was later adopted by several Roman writers. The Trojan hero was popular with Romans because he embodied qualities that they valued such as ‘pietas’ or commitment to native land, family and duty. The best-known version of the myth of Aeneas is told in Virgil’s epic poem, the Aeneid, one of the greatest works in all of Classical literature.

In Roman mythology, the focus is on Aeneas and his adventures after the destruction of Troy. During the fall of the city, Aeneas leads his family and a small group to safety. He then leads them on a mission to find a new home for the surviving Trojans. They attempted to find a new city several times, but each time they failed. Eventually, Aeneas' father Anchises died in Sicily. Later, Juno sends a storm that drives the Trojans to the shores of Carthage.

There, Aeneas has a six-year affair with the Phoenician Queen Dido. Committed to his duty, he eventually leaves Dido to find a new home for his people. In despair, Dido commits suicide. After arranging funeral games in Sicily, Aeneas lands on the western shores of Italy with his small band. At this time, Aeneas journeys to the Underworld and meets Dido and his father, who predicts that he would establish a great city (Rome).

Aeneas and the Foundation of Rome

Returning from the Underworld, Aeneas continued his journeys. The King of the Latins welcomed the Trojans and allowed them to settle in his territory. Aeneas became engaged to the Latin King’s daughter, Lavinia. This leads to a war with Turnus, the Rutulian King and his allies. In this bloody war, Aeneas emerges victorious. The story makes clear that Aeneas won because his cause was right. At this point in the Aeneid, the story of Aeneas ends abruptly, possibly because of the death of Virgil. The story of Aeneas was completed by writers such as Livy and Ovid. After his victory over Turnus, Aeneas founds the city of Lavinium, named after his wife Lavinia. The hero had many descendants. One of them became King of Alba Longa, and was the progenitor of Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome. After his death, Venus had Jupiter make him immortal and he ascended into the heavens to live like a god.

Aeneas and Roman Culture

The myth of Aeneas was of great cultural significance in Roman civilization. In ancient societies, myths were used to tell the history of peoples and to explain their origin. The story of Aeneas and his adventures was used to explain the foundation of Rome and justify its imperialism. Similarly, the tragic love affair between Dido and Aeneas was used to explain the enmity between Carthage and Rome. Aeneas was seen as the embodiment of Roman virtues, especially his pietas. The story of the Trojan prince was used to promote social and cultural ideas that had come to be considered essential for Roman greatness. They were also instrumental in teaching and reinforcing Roman ideas on morality and also justifying its empire as something moral and noble.

Conclusion

The stories of Aeneas demonstrate the power of myths and how they can be adapted. The Trojan was a minor figure in the Trojan War. Yet, when the Romans adopted him, he became something of a 'national hero.’ Aeneas and his adventures were a common subject in Roman literature and art, and the legends of the Trojan were used to explain the history of Rome.

References

Elliot, A., 2013. Aeneas. Arion: A Journal of Humanities and the Classics, 20(3), pp.1-8.

Stahl, H.P., 1981. Aeneas—An’Unheroic’Hero? Arethusa, 14(1), pp.157-177.

by Christina Lee

Greek mythology offers an abundance of tales, many of which have helped inspire modern-day culture and storytelling. Needless to say, Greek mythology is compelling, diverse and not for the faint-of-heart, so it makes for great reading material. However, if you want to get your fix of Greek mythology in a format that is easy to fit in around a busy schedule, read on for my top ten Greek mythology podcast recommendations.

1) Let’s Talk About Myths, Baby!

This podcast aims to retell Greek and Roman mythology in a way that is appropriate for a modern audience: sarcastic, irreverent and casual. Covering monsters, heroes, gods and goddesses, this retelling of the ancient world focuses on the unparalleled minds of ancient Greece and the wild escapades of the gods.

2) Mythunderstood: A Greek Mythology Podcast

Learn from host Paul as he teaches his co-host Sarah, a comedy writer, all he knows about Greek mythology. Tune in if you enjoy banter and hilarity with an educational twist.

3) Garner’s Greek Mythology

It’s a commonly held belief that ancient Greek gods were only myths, but what if that’s wrong? Best-selling author and mythologist Patrick Garner discusses the major Greek deities, offering little known insights about who they were and who they became.

4) Tales Of The Night Sky

If you’re looking for something a little different, this audio drama could fit the bill. The tales are based on Greco-Roman myths surrounding the constellations in our skies and, as you would expect, are filled with tragedy, heroics, violence and injustice. This is the perfect podcast to listen to while looking out at the night sky during a bout of insomnia, so grab a cup of coffee (decaf, of course) and get cozy.

5) Greek Gods And Human Mythtakes

Olympians had a reputation for being mercurial, petty and vengeful, so it makes sense that there’s an entire podcast dedicated to the misfortune of Greeks who attracted their attention and the havoc unleashed upon their lives.

6) Greeking Out

This is billed as a podcast for children, but don’t let that put you off. While this podcast does focus on renditions of classic tales that have been tweaked for young minds, it can easily be enjoyed by people of all ages who are interested in ancient myths made accessible.

7) Greek Mythology Retold

Created by Janell Rhiannon, author of the Homeric Chronicles, a brilliant adult retelling of the Trojan War, this podcast explores the research that went into the series and the various surprises she uncovered. The aim of this podcast is to highlight female voices of the Trojan War era, offering a more diverse perspective on this fascinating, but often heavily masculinized, topic.

8) Legendary Passages – Greek/Roman Myths

Simple but effective, this podcast offers short summaries and readings of various classical myths. At only 10 to 15 minutes long, each episode is a bitesize chunk that can be easily digested on your lunch break or while doing chores.

9) The Heroes, Or Greek Fairytales For My Children

Originally published in 1855, Charles Kingsley’s collection of three stories (Perseus, The Argonauts and Theseus) is now available in audiobook format. While the author intended for the heroes and adventures in this book to inspire a sense of nobility and integrity in the children who read it, the work has been deemed as culturally important and a significant contribution to our knowledge of ancient civilization.

10) Rambling About Greek Mythology

Informal, fun, and easy to relax into, this podcast focuses on Nikhil Ranjan sharing his knowledge of Greek mythology with everyone. The content of this podcast is drawn from a variety of sources, including original works, some of which have their own episodes. If you enjoy podcasts which lean more towards content than analysis, this might be one for you.

I hope this list has given you some inspiration and encouraged you to dive into a new podcast to brush up on all things Greek. Wherever your particular interests lie, there is a whole range of podcasts and audiobooks out there for you, so get exploring and get listening!

Christina Lee is a writer at Australian Reviewer and other sites, who primarily focuses on marketing news and related technologies. In addition, she is a project manager at Student writing services and Top essay writing services.

We definitely don’t appreciate it in our modern world. 

Being vague is considered a negative. It is someone lacking confidence, knowledge, and focus. From the courtroom or the boardroom, the absence of certainty is detrimental.  

In our increasingly specific, niche and overly analytical lives, all we do is try to be more precise. 

Maybe we can blame the likes of Aristotle, with his list making and constant categorization. 

Everything should have a place. A point. A purpose. 

But has it always been that way? 

Homer, for example, was often very vague... perhaps by design. Cultivating a sense of mystery, he is actively indistinct when pinpointing locations, such as the underworld in the Nekyia. (something discussed in our most recent Classical Wisdom Litterae Magazine, The Appeal of the Odyssey).

Similarly Plato employs obscurity in his dialogues. With confounding details, yet vague folktales, he conjures the myth of Atlantis. (For what purpose this month’s podcast with professors with Dr. Angie Hobbs will delve!)

Some have even argued that the founding fathers were purposefully vague in writing some parts of the constitution... in order to make it more applicable in the unknown future. 

In our current culture of burdensome categorizations with its heavy focus on legalese and semantic overloading, can we see the purpose of something being not so clear?

Essentially, is there any need or value in the vague?

As always, you can write me directly at anya@classicalwisdom.com or comment below. 

I’ll post your responses in next week’s mailbag! 

Also, a quick note to remind you that our Essential Classics hardback book makes the perfect gift this holiday season! However, you do have to act fast in order to ensure it ships in time. 

Give the Gift of Wisdom this Holiday Season! 

by Sean Kelly, Managing Editor, Classical Wisdom

What do you think of when hear the words “Greek tragedy”?

I’ll bet that the images that spring to mind tend to be dark and dramatic. Yet not all tragedies fit this preconception. Not all tragedies are quite so…. Tragic.

For instance, there were the Satyr plays. In ancient Greece, tragedies were staged in trilogies, accompanied by an additional play in a separate genre, the Satyr play. These were much more comedic and farcical in nature than the sometimes austere world of tragedy. In honour of the god Dionysus, centaurs drank and caroused, causing mischief and chaos in irreverent settings. Only one of these plays has been handed down to us, the Cyclops, once more by Euripides, which is a playful retelling of Odysseus' encounter with the one-eyed Polyphemus. It is from these plays such as these that we get the word satire.

There is, however, another play that is neither comedy, tragedy, nor satyr play. It is a unique blend of all these forms, and yet utterly unlike anything else handed down from the ancients. The story has more in common with a fairy-tale than many of its peers in the corpus of Greek tragedy. It is Alcestis.

Of the three Greek tragedians, Euripides is by far the most unconventional, frequently challenging the norms and conventions of the form. It is from these experiments that a play as unusual but ultimately moving as Alcestis.

Unlike the more familiar stories of the Theban Oedipus cycle or the unhappy tales of the House of Atreus, Alcestis deals with a lesser known, more unusual branch of Greek mythology. Alcestis tells the story of the title character and her husband, Admetus. Due to a complicated mythical backstory, the god Apollo was forced to work as a labourer. During this humbling experience, Admetus, the human king of Thessaly, treated the diminished god with great kindness.

The god, eager to repay a human kindness, has arranged a special favour for Admetus. He is granted the chance to live a longer life than he had been allotted by the Fates, and in doing so, frustrate death. Yet, this gift comes with a cost.

The play begins with a conversation between Apollo and Death (or Thanatos in Greek). Thanatos is eager to the reclaim what Apollo has denied him: someone now has to die in Admetus' place. Admetus' father refuses to do so, and so Admetus' wife, Alcestis, chooses to die in her husband's place. Much of the early part of the play is dedicated to the household's anticipation of Alcestis' death. As is typical of Euripides, situations are inversed: someone still alive is being mourned.

Alcestis dies, and Admetus is wracked by grief and despair. Yet, despite this, hope may yet remain with the arrival of Heracles, Alcestis being one of a number of tragedies featuring the demigod. Here, he is characterised very differently to how is he appears elsewhere in tragedy. In Alcestis, Heacles is as a dim-witted, yet kindly party boy.

Heracles is blissfully unaware that his friend Admetus is in mourning; he arrives eager to drink, party and have fun. Admetus decides to not burden his guest with the sad news. The world of the Satyr play and Tragedy now collide in a way that enhances each other. The starkness of Admetus’ grieving for his wife is set against the oblivious, fun-loving Heracles, to great effect.

Whenever Heracles does discover the truth, the demi-god is in fact be uniquely qualified to deal with the situation, being one of a very small group of Greek heroes who can travel to the Underworld. Eager to help his grieving friend, Heracles exits the scene to go and retrieve his friend's wife from Hades.

What follows is one of the most moving scenes in Greek theatre. Herakles returns to the party with a veiled woman in tow. He offers her to Admetus as a new wife, but the grieving King finds this highly inappropriate. Eventually he is goaded, against his judgement in to seeing just who it is beneath the veil...

Considering that the play begins with a conversation between Apollo and Death (or Thanatos in Greek), it ends on a very human emotion: the joy of reunion. For all the grandeur of the mythic backdrop and quarrelling divinities, the Alcestis is, at core, about the love between a married couple.

It is the earliest play we have by Euripides, having been staged in 438 BCE. Considering how much ancient literature is lost, it is a gift that this strange, tragi-comic fairy-tale can still resonate.

by Ed Whelan, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom

Homer is considered one of the greatest poets who ever lived. The literary and cultural influence of the Iliad and the Odyssey is incomparable. But who was Homer, exactly? The answer is a little bit complicated…

You see, for many centuries scholars have questioned not just the identity, but even the existence of Homer. The ‘Homeric Question’ seeks to understand if Homer actually wrote the works attributed to him, and if not, then who?

The Life of Homer

We’ll get to the more modern scholarship in a moment. But first, who did the ancients think Homer was?

Well, in antiquity, Homer was believed to have composed his great works in the Greek Dark Ages (9-8^th century). According to this tradition, he was born on the island of Chios and was blind from birth. It was believed that he was a wandering bard, and that he sung his epics to the public at festivals.  These poems were based on events and heroes from the Mycenaean Age (12^th-11^th century BC). His works were later written down, and though they had been changed and edited, it was still believed that the Iliad and Odyssey were ultimately the product of one mind: Homer’s. Even as far back as antiquity, however, there were those who questioned if Homer really did write the epics…

The Homeric Question

Now we’re going to jump forward in time quite a bit. Just a couple of millennia!

Beginning in the 17^th century, scholars began to develop textual criticism. Figures such as Isaac Causbon analysed the texts of Homer and found certain discrepancies. Critics began to suspect that the works of Homer were not actually written by just one person.

Rather, they believed that ‘Homer’ was the name given to a much larger oral tradition of storytelling. The reading public rejected this idea right down to the 19^th century, and maintained that the figure of Homer, the blind bard, was the author of the works.

Milman Parry (1902 – 1935), an American Classicist, later revolutionized the study of Homer.  You see, across the Iliad and the Odyssey, there are many formulaic expressions, such as the epithets ‘divine Odysseus’ and ‘swift-footed Achilles’. Parry showed that there was a reason for this consistent repetition. Their presence was no accident: they were in fact memory devices, which allowed the reciting bard to improvise during his public recitations. Parry was also influenced by the recordings of bards from the Balkans, who similarly used formulas to recite very long epic poems. Parry argued that the works of Homer were part of a long literary tradition. He and later scholars proved that “Homer” (as he was commonly understood) did not write the Iliad and Odyssey. Rather, they emerged from a very ancient tradition.

Based on archaeological finds, later scholars have found that the Homeric works displayed a knowledge of Mycenaean warfare and weaponry, which indicates that this oral tradition dated back to the 12^th and 11 century BC. Some elements of the poems, however, also came from later time periods. This confirmed that the epics evolved as part of a very dynamic oral tradition; the Homeric Question was resolved. The most famous epics in all of literature were not written by one man named Homer. It was, in fact, the creation of many minds.

So Who DID Write the Iliad and Odyssey?

It seems likely that itinerant bards sang of the heroics of the Greeks during the Trojan War during the Late Bronze Age. These were the instigators of the Homeric epics. Later bards developed their works and added to them. Scholars speculate that “Homer” may have been a name for groups of travelling bards who travelled the Greek world.  The stories told about Homer may reflect the fact that the bards had connections to the island of Chios. Yet mysteries still persist: there is no agreement on this particular theory.  

The Homeric tradition was then popularized by the rhapsodists who succeeded the traditional bards. These were professional singers who performed the works of others, and would have performed the poems attributed to Homer. It is possible that Homer was a famous rhapsodist, and the epics were mistakenly attributed to him. It’s also possible that the popular image of Homer as the blind bard was simply a creation of a similar oral tradition. All of these bards and rhapsodes contributed to the development of the Homeric works and helped to make them such great works of art.

It appears that the oral poems were written down sometime in the 8^th century after the development of the Greek alphabet. The various Homeric poems were compiled in Athens during the rule of the tyrant Peisistratus (c 520-540 BC), according to one source. Another tradition argues that the versions of the work that we have were the result of scholars who worked in the Library of Alexandria (c 2^nd century BC).

Conclusion

The Homeric Question has been largely solved. There was no single genius behind the works. The epics set during the Trojan War and its aftermath were the product of a very ancient tradition that dated back to the Bronze Age. This tradition was constantly evolving. Bards, rhapsodists, and scholars all contributed to the work in some small way.

References

Burgess, Jonathan S. (2003). The Tradition of the Trojan War in Homer and the Epic Cycle. JHU Press

by Andrew Rattray

If you’re anything like me, you love a good mystery.

The provenance of the Sea Peoples is one enduring enigma that still hasn’t been answered. You see, accounts from the 12th Century BCE describe massive armies who terrorised the Eastern Mediterranean by sea. In fact, these armies have been argued to be one of the major causes of the Late Bronze Age Collapse, a period of destabilization during the early part of the 12th Century BCE, which saw the destruction of empires and civilisations all across the region. No primary accounts detail the origin of these people, and today contemporary scholars are still unsure of exactly where they came from. 

While the ultimate cause of the Bronze Age Collapse is highly contested, the devastation these people wrought is hard to overstate, and impossible to deny. One foreboding inscription from the second pylon of Medinet Habu, a Temple devoted to the life of Ramses III of Egypt reads:

“All at once the lands were removed and scattered in the fray. No land could resist their arms, from Hatti, Kode, Carchemish, Arzawa, and Alashiya on - being cut off at one time. A camp was set up in Amurru. They desolated its people and its land was like that which had never existed. They were coming forward toward Egypt, while the flame was prepared for them."

This wasn’t simple hyperbole to exaggerate the threat faced to the Egyptian empire either. Historian Erdal Yavuz describes in his work ‘Anatolian Civilisations’ how the Sea Peoples proved to be the death-knell for the mighty Hittite empire, a major power in the region, stating:

“A mass of attacks from [a people of unknown origin] known as 'the Sea Peoples' destroyed much of Asia Minor, including the Hittite State, about 1200 BCE and, after that, the Hittites were never able to restore their state again.”. 

These were people with enough power to topple well-established power structures, which would imply sophisticated organisation and military prowess, but who were they? The term ‘Sea Peoples’ was actually first coined by Emmanuel de Rouge in 1855 in his work ‘Note on Some Hieroglyphic Texts Recently Published by Mr. Greene’, wherein de Rouge interprets some of the imagery from the Second Pylon of Medinet Habu. The reliefs depict various battles between Egyptian forces and these unknown invaders. In fact, most of the historical records of the Sea Peoples come from Egyptian sources. 

These sources, primarily detailing the lives and achievements of some of the New Kingdom Pharaohs such as Ramses the Great, Merentaph, and Ramses III, all describe the Sea Peoples as a terrifying enemy, yet they are remarkably light on details regarding their origins. Like any good mystery, however, there are some clues in the historical record for modern historians to investigate. For example, inscriptions detailing the reign of Merenptah, son and successor of Ramses the Great, describe the Sea Peoples as coming from seas to the North. This has allowed historians to rule out much of Northern Africa as their homeland, for example. Clues such as these have given way to multiple theories on the ultimate origins of the Sea Peoples. 

So why are the origins of these tribes not mentioned in any records? Well the reliefs of Medinet Habu do name several tribes that fall under the general definition of ‘Sea Peoples’ including; the Denyen, the Ekwesh, the Lukka, the Peleset, the Shekelesh, the Sherden, the Teresh, the Tjeker, and the Weshesh.  The problem, though, is that although they are named, their origins are not explained. The origins of some of these groups have been considered by examining other tablets and reliefs where the Egyptians named the homeland of these peoples and adding all the evidence together. In this way, modern historians have argued that the Peleset, for example, are the Philistines, originating from what is modern day Palestine. 

Of course, it’s important to note that not all of the origins of all of these groups have been settled. Furthermore, while the above list, when read together, gives the impression of this being a confederation of multiple different peoples from different regions the truth is that the inscriptions do not list all nine of these peoples together in the same army at the same time. The different tribes making up the Sea Peoples ravaged the region, and Egypt in particular, multiple times over a span of decades during the reigns of Ramses the Great, Merenptah, and Ramses III. 

Interestingly, some modern historians, such as Raffaele D’Amato and Andrea Salimbeti, believe that the Egyptians did know the origins of the Sea Peoples. They argue that the lack of references in any of the Egyptian reliefs or inscriptions indicate that the knowledge was so obvious as to be unnecessary to remark on. They believe that had their origins been unknown to the Egyptians, this would have been alluded to. Whether the knowledge is simply lost, or never known to begin with, the outcome is the same for us today; we do not know where they came from. 

Not only are their origins uncertain, but even the nature of their arrival in the region is one that remains in debate today. De Rouge’s initial interpretations and considerations on the Sea Peoples were later expanded by Gaston Maspero in his work ‘The Struggle of the Nations’ in 1896 whereby he theorised the idea of a migratory wave of peoples that swept across the region, with various tribes joining the confederation, to ultimately form the massive armies as seen in the various Egyptian reliefs and inscriptions. This migratory theory is supported by some modern historians such as Eric Cline who has argued that factors such as climatic changes, famine, and others were what drove these migratory activities and forced the Sea Peoples to try and settle new land elsewhere.

The idea of migrations seems obvious when you look at some of the imagery that depict carts laden with women and children alongside invading forces. Indeed, this narrative of migrations became the predominant theory on the subject and has only recently faced more intense challenges from historians. For example, American historian Robert Drews in his book ‘The End of the Bronze Age’ disputes the idea of migration claiming that there are no references to such movements of people within any of the Egyptian sources and arguing that the migration theory is simply conjecture. 

In its place Drews puts forward the argument that rather than migrating forces the Sea Peoples were more likely to have been pirates and raiders, arising from various locations across the Mediterranean. Drews forwards the point that the massive amounts of trade across the region, even from as far afield as modern day Sicily and Italy, would have driven piracy, and that furthermore the opulence of Bronze Age cities would have made the ideal prize for more ambitious raiders. Drews believes then that the Sea Peoples were confederations of a sort, but rather than desperate people looking to settle a new homeland, they were instead bands of pirates looking to haul away the treasures of these Mediterranean cities and empires. 

Another idea is that the Sea Peoples did not come from strange, far away lands, but were actually mercenaries local to the region. Several reliefs (such as those in Luxor and Karnak) detailing the reign of Ramses the Great report that the vital regional trade center of Kadesh (in what is now modern day Syria) was captured by the Hittite empire and Ramses raised an army to drive them out. These records note that groups of Sea Peoples fought as mercenaries both for the Hittites and the Egyptians during the battle of Kadesh which ultimately ended in an Egyptian victory. This evidence also further undermines the idea that these were a single conglomerate of people with a unitary goal as suggested by those that champion the migratory theory. 

So it seems that even after 150 years we are no closer to settling on the truth of these enigmatic people. Where did they come from? What brought them to the region? Did they truly provide the catalyst for the Late Bronze Age Collapse, as some have argued, which snuffed out so many civilisations of the Eastern Mediterranean? Ultimately, we may never know for sure.